Seven Spanish Angels: The Ballad of Innocent Blood

Lone Wolf_fanwriter

This story is inspired by the Ray Charles/Willie Nelson song ‘Seven Spanish Angels.’ The song’s lyrics are copyright to them.

Balto, Jenna, Steele and Boris are copyright to Universal Pictures.

The remainder of this story is the property of Lone Wolf_fanwriter.

Chapter One

Texas, 1903

The sun rose over the barren desert, signaling the beginning of another day. As far as the eye could see, the land was flat and dry, with only cactuses to provide shade for the scampering prairie dogs and jack rabbits. The only safe inhabitable place for settlers was the town of Applegate.

Located on the shores of Luna Lake, Applegate was the closest town to the New Mexican border, except El Paso. While the name of the town was a mystery, for there had never been apple trees or anything of the sort in Applegate, the lake was named after the mother of the first family to settle along its shores. Luna Daniels had been the driving force behind her family when they decided to make their home by the lake, and when more settlers joined them, she was often found washing clothes for the townsfolk in the lake.

Until one morning when she went out earlier than usual and disappeared without a trace. No one had even the smallest inkling where she’d gone or what had happened to her except her daughter, who was only five years old at the time of the disappearance. She said she had woken as her mother got up, and when she called to her, her mother had told her she was going to start washing early that day, and then tucked her back in bed and left. Luna Daniels was never seen again. Her only daughter’s name was Jenna.

Growing up with only a father and two brothers was difficult, but, she found, not unbearable in the least. She often followed her brothers around and by the time she was ten, she could run just as fast as them or any of their friends, even with her dress on. Once, Flint had convinced her to wear a pair of his summer pants and a vest while she put her hair in a bun and covered it with a hat. The result was a drastic change in appearance the made even her closest friends mistake her for a boy. She kept up the ruse all day.

Now, in 1903, she was nearly twenty-one years old. The white fur that covered the front of her body as well as her slender arms and legs created a sort of glow if the sun reflected off it at the right angle, but it was her stunning red fur that made her the envy of the boys. She had always hated wearing bonnets, preferring to go without it, letting her stunning red hair rest on her shoulders.

Her father, Jason Daniels, was a gunsmith, and since he was often busy replenishing purchased munitions and making special guns for higher paying customers, he gave her charge of the store. This in itself required Jenna to know how to properly handle firearms. So in the week or so before he turned management of the store over to Jenna, he had showed her exactly how to handle a rifle.

Once he was confident she was well prepared, he took her to the edge of town and let her fire it at a few vultures hovering near a cactus. She fired, and one of the birds fell dead. Then the second, and then the third. Jenna had lowered the rifle and smiled.

Once word of her feat got around, every young man looked at her with a bit more respect when they passed her in the street, but she could guess the reason behind their smiles, and although she smiled in return, that was as far as most boys got with her.

Most boys, that is, except for Balto McLain.

When he smiled at her and doffed his hat, she somehow knew that it was sincere, true kindness and not a mask for other thoughts. That, perhaps, was what first made her notice him. Most others ignored him on the street and didn’t even acknowledge his greetings. Jenna had sensed there was something different about him the first time they passed each other on the street, but it wasn’t until they met face to face that she truly understood him.

It was a warm day in mid-June, and she was working the counter at her father’s store. Balto walked in late that morning and, as always, tipped his hat to her with a smile as he made his way to the counter. As Jenna took count of what the last customer had bought, he looked at the rack of hunting rifles and shotguns behind her.

“Do you often handle those things, Miss Jenna?” he asked, nodding toward the guns.

“Every day,” she replied, setting aside the counted money as she looked up, “Do you want one?”

“How much for that 12-gauge there?’ he said, pointing to a rather large double-barreled shotgun.

“That’s a pretty big one. Usually used for hunting, but the biggest thing to shoot around here is a coyote. What’re you buying this one for?”

“I’m trying to teach myself to shoot.”

“That’s a mighty big gun for a first try,” she said, looking back at it, “Didn’t your daddy teach you how to shoot?”

At this, Balto’s face lost its cheerful appearance and took on an expression of deep sorrow.

“I, uh, never knew my dad…or my mother for that matter,” he said quietly, “They both died when I was real young.”

Jenna immediately regretted speaking.

“Then who…”

Balto sighed.

“I grew up in a town not far from here, sleeping where I could, until an old man named Boris took me in and let me work his shop. From then on, I saved up enough to move out and find my own way in the world. And here I am.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jenna whispered, “If I’d known… I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright. It’s not like you brought this back to my mind,” Balto said with a small smile, “I’m always thinking about them. Wondering what they would have been like…” He sighed again. “Well, how much for the gun?”

“The list price is forty-five dollars, but we have others that go as low as twenty-five if you want.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go with the first one.”

Jenna nodded and lifted the 12-gauge off the rack. As she laid it on the counter, Balto held out a handful of bills.

“Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, forty-five,” he said, counting it out for her as he laid it in her hand. Jenna giggled.

“Thank you. Will you need ammunition as well?”

“How much would that be?”

“Five dollars.”

“Done.”

He handed her the money and she handed him the shotgun and its shells.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” he said, extending his hand, “Balto J. McLain.”

“Jenna E. Daniels,” she replied.

Balto noticed an orange bandanna around her neck.

“That’s a pretty little cloth there,” he commented.

“My mother gave it to me,” she replied, “Not long before she disappeared.”

Balto started to apologize, but Jenna held up her hand.

“That’s alright. It seems we’ve both lost someone close to us. At least we both know.”

“True. It’s been nice to talk with you, Jenna,” he said, “I’ll see you around.”

“Alright. You take care, you hear?” she called after him.

Balto stopped and turned around.

“Yes ma’am, thank you,” he replied, waving back at her.

As he turned around again, though, he came face to face with Steele Thane, who gave him a malicious smirk as he flashed the badge pinned on his shirt.

“One side, half-breed,” he said, pushed Balto aside, “Make way for the new sheriff.”

Steele strode up to the counter and rested his elbow on it. Jenna gave a half-hearted smile as she closed the register.

“Morning, Jenna. Your father’s been making a special order for me,” he said to her, “Is it ready?”

“I’ll check.”

While Jenna disappeared into the back room where the surplus inventory was kept, Steele turned on Balto again.

“Where are you going with that?” he chuckled, nodding at Balto’s gun, “Gonna shoot some coyotes? Oh wait, I forgot, you’d be shooting your brothers and sisters, wouldn’t you?”

Balto leaned against the door frame and said nothing, but only looked at Steele without a single hint of emotion on his face. He opened the cartridge box and pulled out two rounds. He then snapped the two barrels open on the hinge above the trigger. As he loaded the shells calmly into his newly bought shotgun, he said,

“I don’t like to shoot for anything other than necessity.”

He finished loading and snapped the barrels closed again.

“Have you ever shot anyone?” Steele pried.

“Never,” Balto replied. Truth be told, he’d often thought of shooting Steele for his insults, but always reasoned that it would be a waste of a bullet. “Had reasons to, but never shot anybody.”

Steele chuckled to himself.

“Half-breed…”

At that moment, Jenna reappeared carrying a small rectangular box.

“Here you are Mister Thane,” she said, setting the box down on the counter.

“Thank you Jenna,” he replied, picking it up and walking toward the door. He had only gotten a few steps when Jenna called to him.

“Mister Thane?”

Steele turned around.

“Sheriff or not, we require payment.”

Balto noticed that Steele smiled, but he could clearly sense that the new sheriff had expected a few perks to the job.

“Of course,” Steele said, “How much?”

“That will be thirty-five dollars.”

The register rang, and a minute later, Steele left.

Balto shook his head and sighed, still leaning against the door frame.

“How a man like him became sheriff I’ll never know.”

“His father owns nearly half the town,” Jenna replied, “It wouldn’t be hard for him to buy the position.”

“That’s probably what he did,” Balto agreed, “There is no way the town would elect him to office.”

“I agree,” Jenna replied, producing a bowl and spoon from behind the counter.

“What’s that?” Balto inquired.

“Lunch. Beef and carrot stew.”

“It smells heavenly.” Balto scented the air and smiled.

“It’s my special recipe,” Jenna replied, “I use my own vegetables.”

“I didn’t know you were a farmer, too.”

“A gardener is more like it,” Jenna said