Written to @DaHob‘s commissioned continuation; part IV of a longer story.  

This comes after Fox Hunt(Saturday) and The Hunt Continues (Wednesday), Chase the Fox Part I (Wednesday – the following Saturday), Part II (The next Wednesday and Thursday), and Part III (Friday and Monday morning)

Wednesday Morning

Challenge. She wanted challenge? George would give her a freaking challenge. He would disappear so well into the landscape that nobody could find him, change his appearance so much even his mother wouldn’t be able to tell it was him, and lay low until she’d gotten tired of looking, until she’d gotten bored with this little game of hers.

The drugstores third-, fourth- and seventh-nearest the hotel had provided the things he needed to start – a bronzer for his skin, tinted costume contacts for his eyes, dye for his hair. Another motel – this one taking money by the hour – had given him the place to change his basic look, and a stop at Goodwill had gotten him clothes to further the transformation.

The road crew used mostly slave labor, but they still needed free citizens to supervise on one end and do some of the really bad labor on the other. George – under an assumed name – was exactly what they were looking for: multilingual, dumb as rocks and willing to work his ass off, with a thin story about having lost his papers that nobody had to believe.

The road crew was willing to hire him in an ask-no-questions tell-no-lies manner, to pay him in cash, clothes, and meals, and to put him to work in the sort of backbreaking labor that left no time for worrying. They were also a mobile job, crunching their way from town to town down the highways and byways. They put their free workers up in the same portable barracks that held their slaves, the only difference being what side of the door the lock was on.

Thursday Morning

“It is time you started taking on family responsibilities. Your older sisters are as they are, and it is too late to change them, but you, Ariana, you have a good head on you, if you could only stop staring at people like you were choosing exactly where to dispose of the body.”

Since there had been a few occasions on which Ariana had been thinking exactly that, she couldn’t in all fairness deny that point. “Some people would be much more decorative and add much more to the conversation if they were to be left atop a mountain for several months.”

“While that is true, and don’t think I didn’t see the way you were measuring Lady Penelope for her coffin, there are ways to deal with situations that don’t involve a bullet. I trust something of those matters was taught to you in the Academy? Daughters of noblewomen are often trained in diplomatic solutions and such things.”

“First daughters, my most honored Lady mother. First daughters.” She drummed her fingers on the end table. “Which I am not. But I learned a bit of not shooting people here and there.” She smiled with too many teeth, a very undiplomatic expression. “Sometimes it was needed to talk to the prey when bringing them in. To not make a scene, and so on.”

Her mother’s smile was surprisingly sharp. “I remember my time in the service, too, dear. Sometimes you hoped they’d put up a fight, just so you’d have an excuse to break something, no?”

Ariana raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure it’s safe to say anything to that.”

“Ah, so you did learn a spot of diplomacy. Very good.”

“I learned that much from you and Conrad.” Ariana shrugged. “Speaking of undiplomatic… what were you saying about my sisters?”

“Nothing at all, of course. But if I was… it would be that perhaps Giorgia and Samantha are too interested in the show of the thing and not so much of the substance, if you understand what I’m saying.”

Ariana gave that due consideration. “That’s always matched my perception.”

“Politic. You can learn.”

“My instructors at the Academy always thought so.” She didn’t know why they were fencing, but she could tell they were. “Family responsibilities, you said. What do you want me to be responsible for?”

“Well, a first good step is always a man. You seem to be getting along fine with Kevin O Imogen. He’d make you a good Consort, don’t you think?”

…I think it could be fun, for a little while. To be chased. Ariana nodded slowly. “He would… that is, he might make a very interesting Consort.”

“Well, it wouldn’t do for you to be bored now, would it?”

Sunday Morning

“So what’s your story, man?”

The road crew worked six days a week, with Sundays off. Even the cook had the day off, so they were eating a cold breakfast, slaves and freemen alike, spread out over some of the shorter pieces of equipment.

And, god help George, the other freedmen were getting chatty. He thought fast while he chewed and swallowed, and started his answer with a laconic shrug. “You know how it is. Things get a little too warm, you’ve got to go somewhere else for a while.”

“Yeah, but tell us a yarn, man. Tell us how they got too warm. It doesn’t have to be true or nothing, it just has to pass the time.” Jerome grinned widely at him, Jerome who was in charge of the road crew, at least when the bosses weren’t around, who could dole out cushy assignments or the nasty, filthy work.

George considered the strategic value of pissing off the line boss. He took a long drink of his orange juice and grinned, like he was going to pull a fast one on everyone.

“Way-ellll,” he drawled. “You know how it can get sometimes.” Women, women were weird here. “Your mother and your girlfriend don’t get along. And that’s bad enough. You want to be respectful, hand to god, but then you’re stuck between two completely different sets of wants and needs and angry women and…”

He paused, grinning at them all, and took another long swing of orange juice. “And that was bad enough to make me nearly skip the – skip town, but then, Lady and Lord help me, then they started to get along!”

He was in. He could tell it from their laughs, the way they relaxed, the way they slapped his back and leaned back, telling their own stories of wives, girlfriends, mothers, boyfriends, fathers. They didn’t believe him, of course, but they weren’t supposed to believe him. Nobody actually jumped the border because their mother was running their lives – at least, not as far as George could imagine. For all he knew, Californian men ran away to Mexico and Canada all the time to get away from overbearing women.

Hadn’t he joined a work crew for pretty much that reason, after all?

The line boss picked up with a story of his own, twice as improbable as George’s and three times as long. After him, the junior supervisor had his own tale, something about two boyfriends and a girlfriend, a ranch and a visiting royal woman.

George could tell from the sidelong looks as they talked about the boyfriends and the royal lady that they were testing him, so he ate his breakfast and grinned just the same as everyone else. “I concede,” he allowed, when the junior supervisor was done. “Your stories are way more interesting than mine.”

“You’ve got a week.” The line boss’s grin was easy; whatever the test had been, George had passed it. “I’m sure you can come up with a bigger whopper in that much time.”

The Saturday Just Prior

Her mother had a new project, and its name was Ariana. Massage, manicure, pedicure, lunch downtown and dinner at a posh place on the edge of the city; Friday hadn’t been all that bad.

Now she was spending more time with her potential Consort and his mother, and that, in and of itself, was rather pleasant.

Kevin had a knack for casual flirtation and, better yet, a way of handling it that made it look like Ariana knew more than she did about such things. They tried out their verbal fencing while their mothers negotiated terms and drank down glass after glass of Kevin’s family’s Merlot.

Eventually, the merlot had led to reminiscing, and the mothers distracted themselves thoroughly with stories of their own youth, their own first Consorts. Kevin and Ariana slipped away for a walk in the gardens.

Soon, they were no longer strolling. Kevin grinned at Ariana, a playful expression she hadn’t seen from him before. “Catch me?”

She’d noted the way he looked around first, but she did the same. Nobody was looking; there wasn’t so much as a slave in this portion of the garden. Had he arranged it? More points to him. Ariana returned his smile. “You know I will. Give me a chase?”

“Yes, my lady.” With a joyous laugh, he was off. Ariana counted to five and ran after him. Only the proximity of their mothers kept her from whooping out loud, and not even that kept her from a joyous laugh when she tackled him to the ground.

“You got grass on my pants.” He was still grinning, smiling up at her in challenge.

“That sort of things happens when you roll around in the garden. I’m told the Goddess likes it.”

“Are we? Rolling around in the garden?” There was tension in his question. Ariana respected it by ignoring it.

“Well, now I guess we’d better. To explain the grass stains, at the very least.”

“To explain the stains,” he agreed, the tension gone. He would do quite nicely.

In the back of her mind, however, Ariana was still thinking of her runaway fox. If he’d been stupid, he was probably already in a holding cell at the border. If he’d listened this time, she had a nice chilling trail waiting for her. She’d kissed Kevin good-bye, excited and anticipating the chase she had coming the next day.

Thursday

“This is the fourth day in a row.” Ariana tried to sound as if she was commenting, not complaining, not trying to get out of another family responsibility. One didn’t do that, and one certainly didn’t do that while one’s mother was trying to subtly groom one for the position that should, by rights, be going to one’s sister.

And yet…

Sunday had turned into family brunch followed by family dinner, with only enough time in between to discuss endlessly appropriate clothing for both. Monday – and Tuesday and Wednesday and now today – had turned into lessons on politics, on-the-job training without warning as her mother brought her from meeting to meeting. She was beginning to get antsy and her mother seemed entirely unconcerned.

“It is. It’s a busy week. Some weeks, I have plenty of time for playing. Some weeks are worse than this. You have to get used to getting your fun in when you can. That’s one reason having a Companion is so useful. They’re always there, always waiting. You don’t have to schedule time with them. Now – yes, that’s a very good outfit. I didn’t know you had so many suitable clothes, Ariana. I thought it was all Army fatigues.”

Her mother’s smile was gently teasing, but the praise sounded real. Ariana decided to be honest.

“I sent Conrad out for some new outfits after looking after the Senate pictures,” she admitted. “It seemed good to cover all my bases.” And, because she couldn’t help a little jab back, she added, “to be properly equipped for the mission.”

Her mother smiled, although it was possible it looked a bit strained. “Very good. Now…”

It was a busy week. Ariana’s lady mother was cramming lessons into her as if the world was ending. And yet, in a brain full of politics and business, Ariana found time to think about her fox. Had he run for the border again? Was he hiding? More likely he was glad she hadn’t been bothering him.

The Next Sunday Morning

“So what’s the story going to be this week, man? More women chasing you out of town?”

“What? Oh.” George managed a smile for the line boss. “Nah, ma, telling the old story twice in a row, that’s old hat. Got a whole new line for you this time.” He wasn’t being chased at all, it seemed like. He was actually starting to get worried about his crazy royal lady. It had been over a week, and he hadn’t seen so much as a strand of her red hair, heard so much as a peep out of her

.

There was, of course, the possibility that he’d actually managed to lose her.

“I was thinking about telling you about my great-Uncle Thomas. The one that went for a walk one day, just trying to get away from work for a while, and got so far away even he didn’t know where he was.”

“That sounds like a teller, all right. Come on, we got a little extra for the Oh-Jay this week.” The line boss waved a plastic bottle of vodka. “A little bit of lubrication for the stories, eh?”

“Sounds great. I’ll work out, ah, remembering the details.” You didn’t drink when you were on a mission. You didn’t lose your senses when they might be the only thing keeping you alive. On the other hand, you didn’t blow your cover when you were deep in.

“You do that.” The line boss slapped him on the back. “You liven this place up. Gonna be quiet when you decide to move on.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh, don’t waste your lies on bullshit like this. You came in looking for a quick job, and you’ll be gone when it starts to itch. Don’t mean you’re not a good worker. Just means you’re a little more temporary than some. Now come on, son. Work on those good tales today, and I’ll pack you bag with a bonus when you move on.”

“Yes, sir.” He’d have to figure out what he’d done to blow his cover. Later. Now he was going to polish up Uncle Thomas’ story and earn that bonus.

Monday Afternoon

“No appointments today. You might want to visit Kevin; I’m sure he’s missing you.” Lady Juliet, Ariana’s mother, seemed playful about the whole thing. “After those grass stains…”

Ariana smiled back at her mother, the smile growing into a grin as she thought about exactly how Kevin’s slacks had gotten stained. “I’ll make sure to see him. Are you doing to need me tomorrow?”

“Oh, I think you can take tomorrow off too. Be back before Wednesday, though. There’s a meeting with the Countess at noon, and I wasn’t you to sit in. You never know when you might have to step in for me.”

Ariana opened her mouth and closed it again. Her mother was still young, barely past sixty. And there were still her sisters…

“We’re not built for being tied down, our family line. I’m sure you’ve noticed. And there’s precedent. Your grandmother retired the year you were born. She said I had enough heirs, one of them would likely turn out all right.” Lady Juliet smirked. “I guess she was right, too. Be smart, Ariana, and get your heirs born early. Kevin will make pretty babies.”

He would. Pretty and strong.

Her fox would make gorgeous babies – and she would never saddle a potential Baroness with his American genes. “Thanks, Mother. Thank you.” She paused, just long enough that she knew her mother was paying attention. “For everything.”

Her mother raised her eyebrows. “Enjoy yourself, dear. The time when you have to work until you’re too tired to play is coming soon enough.”

Even as Ariana bowed in obedience, she was thinking well, I’ll have to find a way to make the work fun too, then. It had been effective enough in the army, after all.

Tuesday Evening

Feeling like a hypocrite, George shut the door on the slave pen and made certain it was firmly locked. They didn’t seem to mind it, but maybe they were just too beaten down to care? Either way, he wasn’t ready to leave the cover of the road crew yet, and so he had to do his job. Maybe when he left, he’d pop the lock on his way out. All those fleeing slaves would give him some cover, at least…

“They wouldn’t know what to do if you let them free, most of them. And the ones that would, well, half of them are murderers. Not the sort of people you’d want at your back.”

She wasn’t the sort of people George would want at his back either, but there she was. He turned around slowly, very slowly.

“I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.” He didn’t have any weapons on hand. Then again, He wasn’t sure she was that sort of threat.

“I was beginning to think you’d managed to hop the border. Nice hiding place, by the way.”

She looked different. Her hair was smoother and her eyebrows looked somehow fake. “You’ve been busy.”

“I’m getting a new Consort. And” She flapped her hand. Despite himself, George found his eyes following the movement. “Other considerations. Come on, I want to talk with you in private.”

“And I should what, just follow?”

“You’re following a Californian noble. On a Californian road. In the camp of a Californian road crew. Nobody’s going to look at you strange if you follow me, though they may be a bit concerned if you don’t.”

“It’s not really a fair contest if you’ve got the deck stacked, you know.”

“Well, since there’s no way I can make you a…” She closed her moth and looked thoughtful. “Unless…”

“No, no, whatever you’re thinking, no. Besides, is fair really what you’re looking for? I thought you wanted a challenge.”

“…I think making you a Californian noble would be fun. But since I’d have to make you a girl, and I can’t see you consenting to that, I guess we’ll have to skip that idea.” She jerked her head off to the left. “Come with me?”

George made a quick risk assessment in his head, checked her hands to see that she didn’t have a gun in her hand, and broke into a run. The laugh that followed him, joyous and feral, told him he’d made – well, maybe not the right decision. He picked up the pace and started dodging behind any cover he could find.

He’d have to leave the road crew after this. He’d have to find himself a new persona, a new ID. He found new speed as he skidded behind a giant tree. If he got himself up into the branches before she saw him, he could move from tree to tree.

 

Her laughter had stopped, but he could hear her breathing, coming closer and closer. His heart was pounding. With a start, George realized he was smiling.

Screw the trees. She wanted him to run, he was gonna run.

As her whoops followed him into the forest, George broke into laughter. She might never stop chasing him… and that was fine. He could keep running forever.

~fin~