Chapter IX
Jessica drove like a cop. She broke the speed limit. She ran red lights. Her business was more important than the business of anyone on the road. They left Evelyn’s in a rush, hastily explaining why they had to go, got to the precinct in ten minutes, and went from there to Owen’s Bronx community in under twenty minutes. When they got there, he was glad he hadn’t waited.
There was a ring of dwarves around his house. It was already dark so there were lots of lanterns being held and some sitting on the grass and the street. There were torches along the side of the road that were lit on holidays and special occasions. A few of them were lit now. On the outskirts stood the females and children mostly carrying the light, but some of them held weapons. The inner circle was comprised of males. Some of them had weapons, too. Owen was instantly infuriated. He had the door open and was getting out of the car even before Jessica had a chance to stop it. His hand went to his where his gun should have been, but he only found the empty holster. He had turned both his gun and his badge in to Captain Walters. So much the better. This was no place for a gun. Instead, he used his hands to cleave his way through the crowd. He began by shoving aside the outer circle, the females and children. He had no regard for them, knocking them to the ground whenever they got in his way. When he got to the males, they were already aware of his presence. Several of them converged on him at once, but he met them with gleeful rage. A lot of blows were thrown. Owen’s neighbors were strong respectable dwarves, but Owen was a fighter. He fended them off one by one, knocking them aside as he had the females and joined his family on the front porch.
Esmerelda was standing with her father’s pickaxe hefted in both hands. The boys were there, too, each with a hand axe. Joi stood by the door, cowering.
Damned human school!
But that was just his first thought. Other thoughts invaded, derailing his train. Though he may have wanted to chide his daughter for being less of a dwarf than his standards would allow, he found sympathy within himself. After all, what was he fighting for if not equality and the right to behave as one chose?
Several of the male dwarves from the inner circle took a few steps toward the porch. Snarling at them, Owen grabbed the pickaxe from his wife and swung it in a wide arc. The dwarves growled at him like animals, but held their places.
“Come on,” Owen challenged. “What is it, then? Not sure I’m a dwarf anymore? Do you want to test it? Who wants to test it?!”
One of his neighbors stepped forward. Unlike the others, he wasn’t armed and he wasn’t snarling. His hands were not balled into fists. In fact, he looked very calm and was holding nothing more than his pipe. Augie always smoked the sweet tobacco and the smell wafted forward on the light spring breeze. It mixed with the drizzle to create a tangy, candy aroma.
“Have calm, Owen,” Augie said in his elder statesman voice. “No one wants to hurt anyone else.”
Looking through the throng of armed and angry dwarves, Owen had to disagree.
But Augie continued before he could make mention of it. “It’s just that you’ve disgraced this community and dwarven kind in general.”
“Is that so?” Owen growled.
Augie lifted his pipe to his mouth and took a long pull. “Now, Owen, we’ve all been neighbors a long time. We all know that your aspirations reach higher than to where a dwarf is supposed to reach. No one never faulted you for that, but we’ve got to now question your methods.”
For a dwarf, Augie was tremendously diplomatic. But Owen saw right through his poetic words to the point. “I don’t give a rat’s mangy ass what you think, Augie,” he said. Then he raised his voice. “And that goes for the rest of you, too!”
“Well, that’s just the point, isn’t it?” Augie said.
Jessica had come through and the veteran dwarf gave her a look as if to illustrate his point. Owen partnered with humans. He partnered with elves. What kind of credibility did he have?
“You’ve got some great neighbors, Owen,” Jessica admonished loudly.
“Keep your tongue, woman!” came a shout from the crowd.
She turned toward the sound, looking for the voice. Though average height among humans, she was tall among the dwarves. She could see over the tops of their heads, but there were too many for her to pick out the speaker.
“You call this a community?” she continued. “There’s more loyalty among a pack of wolves.”
When she had promised not to embarrass him, Owen had hoped it meant she would keep silent.
Alba Klondike pushed his way through the crowd and started toward her. Though others were stirring at her insults, he was looking for the glory of shutting her the hell up. She caught sight of him while he was still several paces away and set her legs so that she could meet the charge. She had squared off against dwarves before, both as a young girl living in her parents’ home and as a police officer. All things being equal, she could hold her own for about ninety seconds. It would have been enough to impress them, but Owen hopped off the porch and put himself right into Alba Klondike’s way. Alba was a big dwarf. He stood only an inch or so taller than Owen, but he was much broader at the chest and shoulders. He was a logger on leave from his camp. In fact, he was due to return in a week.
Owen hit him in the chin with the handle of the pickaxe and then knocked him down with both fists. When Alba was flat on his back, Owen put a foot on his chest and told him to stay down. Alba wasn’t about to listen until Owen brought the axe down and rested the point on his forehead.
“You listen up, the lot of you,” Owen said. “I won’t have you threatening my home and my family. You can bitch and moan all you like about what I do and who I do it with. In the end, though, I’m a dwarf and what I want is a better world for dwarves.”
“Go find your better world somewhere else,” growled Alba.
Owen pressed the axe down against his head so that a drop of blood welled up around the tip. Alba scrunched his eyes but didn’t move.
“This is my home,” Owen said. “If any of you want to try to throw me out of it, get in a line and I’ll put you each down one by one.”
“Nobody wants to throw you out of your home, Owen,” said Augie.
Owen pulled the axe away from Alba’s head and tossed it to Esmerelda. She caught it gracefully with one hand.
Owen reached down for Alba and helped him up. Then he brushed him off. Then he punched him in the head, right where the blood was starting to drip. Alba went back down.
Looking directly at Augie, Owen said, “Do you speak for them?” He looked at the grumbling crowd and had his answer. “I didn’t think so.”
Alba stood up again but didn’t approach Owen. Instead, he glared at Jessica with venom in his eyes. That score had yet to be settled. Jessica glared right back at him, refusing to show any intimidation.
Owen looked at the silent crowd. He looked at the faces of the dwarves who were supposed to be his friends and neighbors. Turning his back on them, he took Jessica by the hand and led her up to the porch where his family stood.
“You people are living in a world that died a long time ago. We can’t make our way in this world through true grit and axe blood. If you want better lives for your children, the way I want for mine, you’ve got to have the courage to stand up and make it happen. Dwarves are supposed to have courage.”
Looking over the crowd he saw that some of his neighbors were hearing his words. Their anger had been replaced by shame. Good.
“A community is made up of the people who stand by you and believe in you,” he said. “Go home.”
Then he went inside.