Chapter 13

The ride back to Hootyville was quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts, the gravity of their actions weighing heavily on their young minds. The town’s lights grew closer, the warm glow of candles and lanterns a stark contrast to the cold, hard world they had just left behind.

They arrived just as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, painting the sky in soft pastels. The trio, bone-tired and weary, dismounted in front of their respective homes. Their mothers, having been alerted by the commotion of their return, waited anxiously in the doorways, their faces a mix of relief and pride.

Mrs. Elena was the first to speak, her eyes searching Erick’s face. “You’re okay?” she asked, her voice tight with concern.

“We’re all okay,” Erick assured her, his voice weary but firm. “We stopped Alex Thornton gangs. We got them in Grubspring, and we saved the Jonas family.”

Mrs. Elena’s eyes searched his, looking for the truth behind the words. “I’m proud of you,” she said finally, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve done more than any boy your age should ever have to do.”

With that, she pulled Erick into a tight embrace, her warmth enveloping him like a comforting blanket. She kissed the top of his head, her lips lingering for a moment longer than usual. Erick felt the tension in his body begin to ease, the warmth of her love seeping into his very bones. For a brief instant, he was no longer the sheriff’s apprentice, the town’s hero, or the boy who had seen too much. He was simply Erick, loved and cherished by the woman who had raised him.

Pulling back, Erick took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers. “Thanks, Mom,” he began, his voice cracking slightly. “But ... I don’t think I can go to school today. I’m too tired.”

Mrs. Elena’s gaze softened, her hand brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’ve earned a day’s rest,” she said gently. “But remember, get back to school tommorow, I don’t want to be kicked out from school, Ok?”

Erick nodded, his eyes already drifting shut as she led him into the house. The comforting scent of her perfume filled his nostrils, a stark contrast to the acrid odor of gunpowder that clung to his clothes. He felt the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifted as she guided him to his bed, pulling the covers over his tired body.

Mrs. Elena hovered over him, her expression a blend of worry and pride. “Rest now,” she murmured, her fingertips brushing lightly against his forehead. “We’ll talk about this when you’re feeling better.”

With a nod, Erick succumbed to the sweet embrace of sleep, the events of the night receding into the shadows of his mind. When he awoke, the sun had moved to the other side of the sky, casting a warm glow into his room. He sat up, the bed creaking beneath him, and rubbed his eyes. The house was unusually quiet, save for the distant clank of pots and pans from the kitchen. He glanced around, his gaze settling on the pile of clothes on the floor, the remnants of their recent escapade.

Yawning, he pushed the blankets aside and padded out into the hallway, his bare feet silent on the cool wooden boards. The scent of roasting chicken filled the air, a comforting and familiar aroma that reminded him of simpler times before the corruption of Hootyville had invaded their lives.

He followed the scent into the kitchen, where Mrs. Elena was busy at the stove, her apron tied tightly around her waist. She looked up as he entered, her eyes sparkling with warmth and love. “Ah, you’re awake,” she said, a gentle smile playing on her lips. “You must be starving.”

Erick nodded, his stomach growling in response to the mouthwatering smells. He took a seat at the table, watching as she plated up a generous portion of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy. The food looked heavenly, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world outside their four walls.

As they ate, the silence between them grew heavy, the weight of the night’s events palpable. Nick and Micko soon joined them, their faces etched with the same lines of fatigue and the unspoken burden of what they had seen and done. Their eyes met across the table, and Erick knew that their bond had grown stronger, forged in the fires of adversity.

Mrs. Elena finally broke the silence, her voice measured and calm. “So, what’s the next move, boys?” she asked, her gaze shifting from one to the other, her eyes searching for the resolve that had fueled their mission thus far.

Erick took a deep breath, pushing his plate aside. “We’ve got two more targets,” he said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion that weighed on his shoulders. “Lady Cornelia with her brothel and the goons gang, Emil Willis.”

Mrs. Elena nodded thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving her son’s face. “And what of Lady Cornelia?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral. “Her brothel is no secret, it’s just a regular establishment.”

Erick’s expression grew grim. “The light sentence Lady Amelia got is all thanks to Lady Cornelia’s influence,” he said, his voice filled with a maturity beyond his years.

Mrs. Elena nodded gravely. “We need to cut the head off the snake,” she murmured, her eyes reflecting the steely resolve that had fueled her own battles in the past.

Erick leaned in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Lady Cornelia’s got a special room in the brothel,” he said, his eyes flicking to his friends for their reactions. “It’s like Lady Amelia’s, but bigger, more luxurious. It’s where she ... entertains her most important guests.”

Micko’s eyes widened, his curiosity piqued. “What’s it called?” he asked, his voice barely above a murmur.

Nick swallowed, his cheeks flushing slightly. “The Whipping Post,” he revealed, his voice filled with a mix of disgust and fascination.

Mrs. Elena’s eyes grew steely. “Are you sure, kid?” she said firmly. “Now I found the reason why all the women who used to be stay with her were getting out.”

The trio nodded in unison, the gravity of their mission sinking in deeper than ever before. “We need to find a way to expose her,” Micko suggested, his voice tight with determination.

Mrs. Elena placed a gentle hand on Erick’s shoulder. “Remember, boys,” she said, her voice a soft warning. “Lady Cornelia is not a creature to be underestimated. She is cunning and ruthless, and she’ll stop at nothing to protect her interests.”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Erick said, his eyes meeting hers with a fierce determination that made her heart swell with pride. “We’re with the sheriffs now. We’re not just three kids playing hero anymore.”

Mrs. Elena nodded, her hand tightening around her son’s shoulder. “You’re right,” she said. “But remember, no matter what happens, you can always come to us.”

The trio mounted their horses, the leather creaking as they swung their legs over the saddles. They rode through the dusty streets of Hootyville, their eyes scanning the buildings that had once held so much excitement and intrigue for them. Now, they saw the cracks in the façade, the shadows of pain and suffering that lurked behind every closed door.

The sheriff’s office was a squat, unassuming building at the center of town, a symbol of the law that had for so long been corrupted by the very people it was meant to protect. As they approached, the sound of their hooves echoed off the wooden sidewalks, a stark reminder of the change they had brought to the town.

Marshall Hall looked up from his desk as they entered, his eyes weary but a glimmer of gratitude shining through the exhaustion. He stood, his hand extending to shake theirs firmly. “You did good, real good,” he said, his voice gruff but filled with genuine admiration. “The folks of Grubspring will not soon forget what you’ve done.”