Frontier

It was a clear day, with no clouds in the blue sky and the sun shining brightly down onto the Earth below. Surprisingly, that wasn't a good thing, at least to Billy. Bright days, especially in the open, would make him easier to spot. Then again....considering what he was about to do, subtlety wasn't really in the cards.

From on high atop a small hill, Billy sat astride his motorbike, peering through his binoc-goggles at the relatively flat stretch of land ahead. It was damn near impossible to see in the pale dirt and sand, especially with the heat of the sun causing the air to ripple like water, but it was there; the tracks. Trailing his gaze east, he saw his target, the train, come down that strip of metal and wood. Right on time, he thought. Adjusting the goggles back to normal mode, he turned his bike on....and got to work.

Dust flew up from the ground as the pinto horse darted across the land.  With one hand on the reigns, Jacob held a six-shooter in his other.  Behind him was gunfire sending bullets whizzing past his ears with loud cracking sounds, one after the other.  Two four-wheeled junkers were in pursuit of the rider and gaining on him fast.  Jacob turned his torso and aimed back at the vehicles, firing off all six shots before dropping the weapon to the side before grabbing the reigns with both his hands, yanking the horse to a sharp left turn between two narrow boulders.

One of the cars on his tail slammed right into the rocks, crushing the vehicle, hopefully disabling it.  The other junker, though made a wide right around the boulders.  On the front of the vehicle was a large Gatling gun that the shooter never let off the crank.  Now with nothing but a large open plain and with the Gatling fire hitting all around Jacob, he knew he couldn't outrun these men.  Jacob reached for his lever-action in its holster on the pinto's side.  While still in its scabbard, Jacob cranked the weapon, chambering a round before unsheathing and began to turn again to shoot it one-handed but was hit by one of the machinegun's bullets before he had a chance to return fire.

The shot ripped through Jacob's rib cage, sending him flying of his horse.

Billy's bike gained ground on the train, throwing up small clouds of dust as he accelerated. Even now, he could hear the chugging of the train engine, the sound of the metal wheels grinding on the tracks. Last car, he reminded himself. Now riding parallel to the tracks, he watched as the train began to pass him by, faces in the window glancing out and noticing him. Some looked afraid, or anxious--not surprising, considering what tended to happen out in these parts.

Good news was, he wasn't there for any of them. Right as the middle of the line of cars passed him by, he sprung into action, aiming his grappling hook for the roof of one of the cars. With a squeeze the gun fired and sent a barbed projectile punching into the box-car, a cable securing it to his gun. Immediately he tightened his grip and relaxed his legs, soaring off the back of his bike as the train lifted him out of his seat. His motorbike went tumbling though he paid it no mind, simply reeling himself up to the roof.

Inside the car people gasped and screamed, more so when they soon heard thumps from above as Billy clambered onto the roof and began moving down to the last car. The wind made his duster cling tightly to his back, his hat nearly flying off. One hand held a revolver, the other firmly clamped onto his hat as he hopped over the next few cars. The moment he landed on the last one though, a shot ripped through the roof of the car and missed him by an inch. Dammit! he thought, quickly running over the roof as more bullets began to puncture the roof. He didn't fire back; it was pointless, since he was as blind as they were. Instead he got to the edge at the end, and hopped down to the tiny platform, falling by chance on one of the shooters who was prepping for an ambush.

Billy landed on the stunned shooter, knocking the unlucky idiot off the side and backwards onto the tracks. Spinning around he brought his gun up, firing at the first person he saw. The sound of a whip cracking in the air was muted by the overall sound of the train, but the bullet still found it's mark as it hit another of the bodyguards in the chest. Before he could get off another shot though, the man's companions opened fire and sent Billy scrambling for cover behind one of the seats. And now we have a shootout....wonderful, he thought.

Jacob, now laying in a patch of bushes, scanned his immediate area looking for his rifle which had been laying just outside the cover of the brush.  The loud engine of the junker could be heard circling the valley.  They didn't see where you landed.  Good. He thought to himself.  But if he went for his rifle it could give his position away.  The valley was large but it wouldn't take long for them to find him, so Jacob knew he would have to act soon.

Gatling fire started to sound off, though nowhere near Jacob.  They must have been firing randomly into brush or maybe at his horse. Horse? He thought, remembering the explosives in his pinto's pack.  Jacob put two fingers in his mouth and produced a loud whistle, to which his horse, from across the plain, came running.  The hunters in the junker saw the horse turn around and start galloping toward something and began driving right behind the pinto.  Jacob peaked out of the brush and saw them hot on his horse's heels before exclaiming an obscenity.

They're following her awfully close though... "Damn.  Sorry, girl."  Jacob darted from the bushes toward his rifle before picking it up and racked it again, forgetting there was already a bullet chambered, sending a perfectly good round to the ground.  Jacob took aim at the pack on the pinto's back.  As the horse and the junker were both booking it right for him, Jacob took a deep breath before pulling the trigger.

As the shot ripped through the air, it hit the horses pack, went right through and traveled past the pinto and hit the driver of the vehicle behind it.  The junker went out of control hitting a pothole, sending it flipping through the air, landing upside down.  Jacob stood in awe.  "Huh..."  The horse stopped by Jacob's side, seemingly oblivious to what just occurred behind it.  Jacob checked his wound, but the shot seemed to pass through him without much collateral.  Patch it up later.  Gotta check for survivors.  He started jogging toward the crashed junker before he heard a quiet hissing behind him.

Jacob turned around and saw the pack on the horse had a small fire coming from it.  "Shit."  One second, the pinto was standing there still when Jacob stopped running, the next, it was engulfed in fire and sent Jacob and parts of the horse flying.

The great yellow disc illuminated the sky. Nothing seemed to be able to escape its light. Not even the secrets buried in the crevices of the mind. A white-man stood on the canyon edge, looking out for some path or person. Accompanying him, a man of one of the local tribes, testing the outsiders perception. The white-man pointed and spoke in his friends' native tongue. The red-man smiled and nodded, replying in kind. The white-man was named "pale-friend", accepted by the local tribes, though an outsider, he too was foreign to the British and Americans. Outside of the villages he was called "Smiling-Crow" for when he smiled, he had crows-feet wrinkles by his eyes. The red-man accompanying Pale-Friend was called "Rock-Hopper", for his ability to climb rocks. Smiling-Crow and Rock-Hopper, followed the trail that Smiling-Crow and found, down into the Canyon. They were meeting with a friendly tribe, one where Smiling-Crow was known as "He who asks questions", a nickname given on account of the number of questions he asks the people.

Rock-Hopper and Smiling-Crow followed the trail down at a leisurely pace. Rock-Hopper asked about Smiling-Crow's tribe, his family, what brings him out west, questions of a curious sort, the Smiling-Crow answers honestly, and to the best of his knowledge of the language. Rock-Hopper also asked about the "strange machines" that were the automobiles that the white-man drove around to get places quickly. Smiling-Crow expressed his dislike for these machines, he would prefer his own two feet to something artificial, but Rock-Hopper is intrigued and fascinated by these things. 

It is because he is a tribal. Smiling-Crow thought to himself. His understanding of the consequences of these technologies are not his to comprehend, but he'll learn, when the white man commeth, he'll learn. Rock-Hopper stopped suddenly and communicated to Smiling-Crow that there were people ahead. "Down the road, white-men." He said in his own language. Smiling-Crow signed that his red-friend stay put while he scouted a bit closer to these white-men. Unfortunately the pair were in a defile, there would be no avoiding them. "That fucker affronted me, he did." Miklos could hear the men conversing. "I'd say his vexation was awful. But not warranting execution!" They continued speaking about some poor fellow whom the former speaker had killed not long ago. Miklos faile to recognize some of their cant, but got sensible about them being bravos. Miklos waited with Patience for the two men to move on. "the covert should be in close neighborhood now. Can't be more than a mile or two yonder." There we have it, Miklos thought, a way past these men. Rock-Hopper stepped softly behind him, and as he did, some birds were startled nearby, and flew up in a great flurry.

"You're outnumbered boy!" came a call from the other end of the car. The firing stopped soon after, and the speaker continued "I'm guessing you came all this way to kill me?" Peeking up, Billy spotted at least three other gunmen in the car, one of them a well dressed individual standing in the middle--his target. "Clarence Obediah," Billy shouted, "I've come to collect your head."

That got a laugh out of Clarence, who shot back "Seems to me you've forgotten how to count boy! There's three of us here, and only one of you." That fact hadn't escaped Billy, he just didn't see the relevance. The idiots had made the mistake of pausing to banter; no wonder the bounty wasn't that high.

Grabbing his second gun Billy popped up and fired both pistols, getting one bodyguard in the chest and the other in the face. Clarence blanched and reached for his gun, but a third shot from Billy dropped him too. He didn't need the idiot alive after all.

Ears ringing and entire body hurting, Jacob groaned and rapidly blinked his eyes as everything seemed brighter than usual.  Though his body was still in pain his hearing started to come back to him just in time for him to hear boots walking toward him, crunching the ground.  "Ya provin' more trouble then yer worth, boy."  A man stood over the young criminal laying on the ground.  In his hand was a six-shooter, lazily pointing at Jacob.  He was obviously injured with his other hand clenching his chest.  Jacob recognized the man as the one who was firing the Gatling gun.  "Both your carts are trashed and my horse was blown sky-high.  How do you even plan on collecting?"  Jacob responded as his right hand shifted underneath his poncho toward his cross-draw double-barrel.  "I'll drag ya by the fuckin' balls if I hafta.  Now stand!" Jacob used his thumb to pull back both of the shotgun's levers.

"Ya fuckin' deaf, boy? I said stand!" The man stepped forward, aiming threateningly with his pistol.  Jacob flung his poncho over his shoulder, revealing the shotgun pointed right at the bounty-hunter.  The man's eyes widened before he attempted to shoot the criminal but was hit by both barrels, sending the man flying backwards and a mist of blood in the air, while his shot went just over Jacob's head.

Jacob closed his eyes for a moment to regain his normal cognition before he stood up, still holding his smoking shotgun.  The valley, just moments before being full of sounds of gunfire and explosions was now completely quiet.  Not even the birds were present.  Feeling his head Jacob noticed a lack of hat.  He saw his fedora on the ground near where his horse had been standing.  Retrieving his hat, he donned it atop his head with an ever so slight tilt to it.  Feeling his pockets for a smoke Jacob produced a cigar from his belt, as well as a box of matches.  He lit the tobacco and reflected on the valley.  "Huh."

Spoiler:

((I like music too))

There wasn't much time, not if he wanted to get back to his bike. Moving for the door, Billy stepped out onto the small platform and looked down at the connecting clamp, the lock that secured the trains cars together. He yanked out the locking pin, which wasn't easy considering the force exerted on it, courtesy of the train cars.

Nearly lost a finger, pulling it out.

As soon as it came out though, the car began to slow while the rest of the train pulled away. More and more, the car began to slow down until it came to a dead stop, while ahead the train kept chugging on until it became a speck on that horizon. Okay, hard part's over, Billy thought. Before he left, he searched Clarence's body for something. Anything to show proof of death, since he wasn't going to drag the body with him. There was a silver pocket-watch on him, with his initials scratched into it. That'd do the trick.

Pocketing the piece, Billy headed for the back of the car, jumping off into the dirt and sand. So far, things were going well.....except for the whole hike along the tracks back to the bike. At least he still had his hat.

Jacob began looting the dead bounty-hunters.  He used a brown duffel bag that he found in the turned over junker to store any ammo and weapons he found.  From the total of six men, Jacob scavenged four rifles, two shotguns and six wheel-guns.  He tried to detach the Gatling gun but it was too heavy for him to travel with.  Jacob then loaded up with as much rations he could carry before leaving the valley.

Making it to the top of a hill that overlooked train tracks, Jacob saw some smoke about a mile down the tracks and it was getting closer.  Maybe I could hitch a ride?  As the train came into Jacob's view he noticed it started to slow to a stop.  Knowing they wouldn't let him board, Jacob would have to sneak aboard one of the train cars.  At the bottom of the hill he spotted a small batch of bushes, just enough that it may conceal him and he could board the train before it gained too much speed.

As he quickly made his way down the hill he saw men getting out of the train and started waking to the back.  Jacob wasn't about to question the reason for their sudden stop, he just needed a ride to the next town.  Now at the bottom he camouflaged himself in the bushes and waited a good half-hour before the train started chugging back to life and made its way toward Jacob.

Damn. Thing's quicker than I thought. Right as the train engine passed him Jacob started running alongside the cars, trying to match their speed.  It's now or never. He thought as the last few cars started to pass him by.  In the middle of two carts he hurled himself into it and grabbed onto the metal railing.  Yanking his arm so hard Jacob wasn't able to keep holding on, thankfully he was still able to get on, though his body was slammed into the wall by the sudden change in momentum.

Now sitting on the platform just outside the traincar door, Jacob hoped nobody had seen him climb aboard.  He wasn't gonna risk entering the cars, so he just sat there for the ride.

Looking back, Billy was certain he could have come up with a better plan than 'hopping' the train, and leaving his bike to tumble behind. For starters, it meant he didn't have his canteen with him, and the heat was getting to him as his mouth started to dry, beads of sweat running down his face and neck. It was quiet though, in the desert; no sound save for the crunch of dirt under his feet, or the breeze that would pass by occasionally.

He finally got back to his bike, immediately inspecting the damage; it actually wasn't that bad....then again, he wasn't much of an engineer, so he couldn't be sure without getting it to a town. Hopefully one that had a blacksmith. Righting the bike, he tested the engine. It came to life with a low purr, puffs of steam emanating from the exhaust. Well, looks like my luck's still going, he thought, getting on the bike. A second later, he was off.

The amber liquid sloshed in the tankard as she rested it by the Sheriff’s side, ‘you know if everyone held their drink in-kind I could retire early’, Ela joked. Her tone more wavering than she wanted. She knew the Sherriff was prone to violence and had heard the tale of a stable boy’s arrest turned blue. The kid no older than she at the time was found drowned in the three inches of water the horses fed from. What happened though was the Sheriff’s business alone and the townsfolk were too scared to ask.

In truth though Ela didn’t fear him, she had seen the ilk before, no she was just uncomfortable with him. For whatever reason the lawman had decided The Yeoman was his watering hole, perhaps it was the quiet nature of the place. Or maybe it was just out of the eyes of gossip enough for his tastes. She knew it certainly wasn’t her disposition as she’d been told she had the charisma of a anxious dillo’. The Sheriff grunted in approval of the drink and she took this as her dismissal and returned to the bar.

Sighing and blowing a strand of hair away from her face she resigned herself back to mop duty. The floorboards of The Yeoman had stains that hid even older stains. It was kind of a fruitless effort but she had to look like she was tryin’ at least. If she got lucky maybe some more business could distract her from this exercise in futility. Her coffers would certainly appreciate the kindness of a strangers business.

The train's billowing cloud of smoke grew smaller as it began to slow down.  In eye-shot was the train's next stop.  A larger looking town but far from calling it a city.  Jacob saw people in the cabins standing up, getting ready to step off the train.  Still between two of the train cars Jacob considered jumping off before the train made a complete stop but figured that may draw even more attention to him, so instead he would blend with the crowd.

Jacob reached into his pocket for a cigar but found his pocket empty, save for his matches.  He cursed beneath his breath as the train's breaks screeched and slowed to a stop in front of the loading dock.  Tilting his hat to cover his face he stepped onto the wooden deck as a crowd formed behind him, all exiting the train cars.  Jacob stopped for just a moment, letting the flock of people spread across the dock before dispersing.

As he walked down the steps, Jacob overheard some men talking about some kind of assassination on the train.  Must be why they stopped earlier.  Jacob wasn't about to get involved, he had to focus on remaining undetected.  Making his way to the nearest shop Jacob passed a bounty-board, seeing a poster of himself posted.  "WANTED: BY THE BRITISH KINGDOM FOR MURDER OF TWO LAWMEN: Angus Smith and Nate Brown. BOUNTY 500 DOLLARS"  The poster pictured Jacob very well, though without a hat.

Looking around to make sure nobody was looking Jacob tore the poster down before folding it and stuffing it under his belt.

He stayed to the tracks, knowing there was a town down a ways. The last stop the train had made before he had.....well, hopped aboard, as it so happened. Billy had no idea what the town was called, just that it was another of the frontier settlements.

Ever since the failed revolution and the breakaway from the original colonies, the Colonials of the United States had moved further into the American Continent. So far, they had set up for themselves a new collection of towns, the New Colonies. It wasn't much, but he remembered that they were free of British rule....even if they were now still in a truce.

Then came the west, the expansion into it. All unsettled land, ripe for settling. Of course, there was still fighting with the local savages, the natives who refused to give up the land. He didn't much for it, seeing as how it wasn't much of his problem. The expansion, the brewing tension with the Brits.....so long as he got paid, he didn't care what happened.

The ride back was uneventful, save for his arrival into town. Even though the steam engine had been around for some time, seeing the smaller, steam powered vehicles was always a treat for some. But, out there in the frontier it was still a rarity, which was more dangerous than awe inspiring; it meant parts were harder to come by, if at all. Not to mention finding blacksmiths who knew enough to fix it.

A sign pitched outside town, on the worn road, named the collection of buildings as 'Perfection.' Silly name, for a place that hardly looked the part. Most of the buildings were new, seeing as the town itself wouldn't have had long to stand. But that didn't matter to the dust storms that frequented the area, sand and debris already aging the place. He made out a general goods store, the sheriff's office, a doctor's office.....and a saloon. Perfect, he needed a drink. Particularly a good one.

Parking the bike and taking the lock, the little pin needed for the bike to start, he casually walked in through the double doors.

Ela's pose stiffened as she watched the stranger enter the bar. She eyed him up and down, this guy looks like one of those hunter drifter types she muttered to herself. The types that never settle their tab or decide that they'd care for a whore in their room. Only the finest gentleman visit The Yeoman she reflected.

Ela took a single deep breath before reciting what was obviously rehearsed introduction. 'Now I see what you might’ be considerin, that a mere girl would find it fit to run a lawless place. I’ll tell you it ain’t by my design. Pappie died back in the summer of 6’ from a touch of consumption but old uncie lives on board and considers travellers with sceptical condescension. So I ask you to mind yours and abide by your kindest accord.' She pauses to watch his reaction before continuing.

'If it is to your interests we got rooms for two-piece a night with freshly launder sheets and bedclothes for the weary. Though if you can’t afford it like many of our beverage’d fellows you’re more than willing to stoke the fire and sleep on the floor in front. So being you settle any tab or fines before-and’.  There also is a jar for coinage if you’re feeling as charitable in turn.' She shakes a jar in her hand which looks mostly full of loose buttons and fluff.

'That being said welcome to The Yeoman and what can I get you?'

As Ela finishes her rant she see's the Sheriff raise his cup again, surely the old man must want a refill.

Billy paused at the door, caught off guard by the whole.....monologue. His eyes wandered to the source and settled on the speaker, a girl younger than him by the looks of it. Tipping his hat to her, he simply said "Just here for a drink ma'am." With that, he walked over the grimy floor to the counter, grabbing a seat at one of the stools. One of the patrons on his right, a raggedy man who was very much in love with his drink, hardly paid Billy any mind save to give the man a once over, grunt, and return to his glass.

'What's your poison?' Ela asked approaching him from behind the bar. 'There's Burb that's been in the basement, pretty cool in this heat' she said. Of course she wouldn't sell him the cheap drinks.

As she spoke she prepared another glass for the Sheriff, pouring the dark amber liquid into a fresh cup. 'You're uh? From round' the Valley up north? Boy came in a while ago with accent not too different from them parts.' As she asked she noticed just how well armed the gentleman was, not that it was unusual round these parts, but still he must have some coin to keep himself so... Loaded. Pun not intended.

'Name's Ela by the way...'

"Water right now," Billy said, slapping a pair of silver coins on the counter. "I'm from out East, just passin' through ma'am." Removing his hat, he set it down and added "Name's Billy by the way."

'Billy...' She said, taking the coins. This was a little much just for water but she wasn't about to argue with a customer. She poured a fresh glass from the bronze faucet, letting it run for a few moments to insure it wouldn't be all chalky. Only the best at The Yeoman.

'So... what brings you to town?', Ela says as she hands him the glass.

"Just passin through," Billy replied, taking the glass and downing the water in one go. "Got business I need to take care of."

'didn't mean to intrude sir,' Ela says, 'I just tend to yak more than a lame horse...'. Before she could finish that thought the Sheriff grunted again as he slammed his table , clearly waiting for the drink that Ela had forgotten to serve. 'Oh sorry sheriff... It's comin' now. scuse me Billy' she said as she left for his table.

If her service got any worse she'd be pouring liquor into a trough and letting the customers help themselves like pigs.

That left Billy at the bar, looking into his empty glass absentmindedly. If that was the sheriff over at the table, then he was probably the one to talk to about the bounty. Still, judging by the look of the town, he wondered if the sheriff had the coin on him to pay up.

Ela served the Sheriff his drink, and with a nervous smile and a 'thank you for your patiences' left him be. He seemed distracted, taking idle slips while staring out the window as if expecting a guest. Though she knew that wouldn't be the guess the Sheriff wasn't the type to take social visits.

Without warning she returned the bar, continuing her mopping effort, occasionally looking up at Billy.
'More water Billy..?' she said... Kind of hoping that he'd order a stiffer drink instead.

"One more glass," he said. Putting a few more coins down, he added "And something stronger after that."

Ela complied, refilling Billy's glass of water and pulling out a bottle of Scotch. Stuff was only watered down a little bit, and well Billy seemed to like water.

'You staying long?' she asked, idly making conversation. Her eyes catching one of his ammo belts, for some reason she couldn't look away from them for too long.

"Not longer than I need to," Billy replied, getting a little curious as to her own curiosity. He downed the next round of water, then took a sip of the scotch. Watered down, cheap stuff......but it would have to do.

'It's just we don't see many new faces round here, specially in The Yeoman, ain't exactly bustlin', she said sort of gesturing to the rest of the empty tavern.

The Sheriff stood up, fixing his belt as he did so, the weight of his eight chamber revolver swinging at his side. Picking up his hat off the back of the chair and nicking it with one knuckle he made his way back to the bar, returning his tankard. As he did so he leaned over, sneering at Billy.

'Them's a lot of guns... You huntin'?, the Sheriff said with a voice that sounded like spit and gravel, his eyes thinning.

"Actually I was, matter o'fact," Billy said, looking at the dirty sheriff. "Clarence Obediah, wanted in about six towns for horse theft, cattle theft, and murder." Taking the silver watch out with the initials, Billy slapped it down on the counter. "My name is Billy Hayes, and I killed Clarence not less than an hour ago. And I'm here to collect the bounty of two hundred dollars."

The Sheriff thumbed his chin, scratching his beard and grunting. In that position he couldn't be described as less than a meaty thumb of a man, albeit a yellow one stained with years of tobacco abuse. He picked up the watch, holding it up the the light, and closing one eye.

Ela couldn't help but try and remember what it was like to do that, in fact she found it very hard to remember what it was like having two working eyes at all these days...


'Psh,' the Sheriff exclaimed. 'Might fancy story... Billy, though how am I not to know you're one of his friends that just grabbed the watch and brought it back here for a pretty penny? The post asks for the boys head, not same damn yarn and a broken watch. He slams the watch against the bar smashing the glass face.

'Don't demand money from me boy unless you can goddamn ask for it, who are you anyway huh? You could be wanted for worse..?'

The Sheriff now pressing his waist against the side of Billy's stool preventing him from any sudden movments.

Ela tried to speak up, 'Sandy, he ain't mean man...'

'Shut it El and get me a drink...' The Sheriff snapped.

Billy didn't reach for his gun.....yet. "Old Clarence was on a train outbound from here. Killed him on board, but well I couldn't exactly drag his carcass back here with me." Looking the sheriff in the eyes, he took another swig of the scotch before saying "Sheriff, all you gotta do is look at a wanted poster of the asshat. Bound to be one that had someone show his little watch."

'My job ain't to ask about damn watches son', Sandy could see a look in Billy's eyes, the sort of widened pupils a man gets when he thinks about reaching for his gun. 'Now you just be good right and keep those pretty hands of yours on that bar top', his S's whistled through his teeth as he spoke.

'Let's say I believe this little tale, bout' you and a train. You killed the boy, doing a good job you think, but you didn't do it right. So I can't trust you, and I can't give you that $200 no matter how many times you swear it true.' But I'm a fair sheriff and a kinder man, little lady can vouch for that', he nodded at Ela as she sheepishly dropped another drink at his side then left for some back room fearing bloodshed.

He stopped for a moment, his windpipe contracting and his tone lowering to a whisper.
'And I'd recommend you get the trust the Sheriff if you want to avoid scrutiny... So how about we cut ourselves a deal... You go shake up a friend for me, show me you're a good man that can do a job well, then I give you half your reward. Sound fair?'

"Shake up?" Billy asked. "And what pray tell, does that even mean?"

'It means what I want it to mean, now I suggest you and me return to my table and talk details. I'll even settle your tab'. He said, swinging one arm towards the corner of the room where he came from.

'Don't worry if concern is it, if you really did kill that kid this job will be easy'.

Honestly, Billy didn't want to. But he needed the money, and half a bounty was better than none. So he followed the sheriff to his table.

Sandy yelled for Ela to bring a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, as she did so he payed a note into her hand and nodded, 'for the boy's bill'. Ela didn't really feel like asking too many question, content enough that someone wasn't going to die in the middle of her pub.

When she had left the both of them Sandy drew nearer. 'ssumin' you're a pretty skilled kid, don't worry though ain't asking you to spill anyone's blood. Maybe a few bruises though'. Mayor's getting fed up by the O'Leary brothers downstream. Setting up a distillery with new fangled machines from the East. Drink's cleaner and purer than anything we seen in the whole damn bush before.' Sandy stopped for a moment taking out a pipe and lighting it with a steadied hand. The smoke bellowed out of his nostrils and as he spoke the smoke moved like ghostly ligatures.

'Mayor and a few friends been thinking they can't have this, and wanna buy out the place, but they boy's ain't selling. So you do us a favor, shake em up, burn the distillery down, make it look like a robbery, bandit or something. They lose the plot, mayor nabs it up for a pretty penny, town is safe from degenerates like the Leary brothers... Simple enough right?

He turned his pipe like a weapon pointing it at the pocket Billy kept Clarence's watch in. 'we could even say it was our little dead friend here... Make you out to look like a town hero...'

Taking that all in, Billy set his hands on the table, looking at the sheriff. "These O'Leary brothers....sound like they're just honest folk trying to make a living," he said. "Seems to me that's something you and yours don't much care for."

His posture changed as Sandy put down his pipe, clearly offended by the statement. 'O'leary's are thieves and cheats. Goddamn one of them almost killed a whore last year, beat her half to death. Poor lass still got stitches carving up her face. Looks like a goddamn battlefield'. They're a crooked family, we've been poking at them bit by bit but they're smart, they get their goons to cover for them. With this fire, we could clear em' outta town once and for all. You'd be doing a service, protecting people' he said with a smile.

'And let me make it clear, I appreciate you're a man who cares about morality, that makes two of us...' Sandy's eyes sinking into Billy, a small twitch on his face wiped away with a false laugh.

'So we gots a deal?' he said holding out his hand.

Eyes narrowed, Billy considered his options. Walk away and get nothing.....or do more dirty work, and get something for the trouble. "Fine," Billy said. "And I'll be expecting that hundred."

'So long you don't bring me back a watch this time, I want a burned barn, just follow the river downstream, you'll see it, can't miss it.'. He chuckled. 'Might want to cover your face too, just in case...'he gestured to his upper lip in a manner that perhaps betrayed how often he had covered his own face. He returned his face to his drink and stared out the window again like nothing had happened, sipping his alcohol absent-mindedly.

Ela, only now braving enough to peek her head around the door in the pantry decided that the Sheriff's haughty laughter was a good sign. In fact she just guessed it was the sheriff's having never actually heard him laugh before. She saw Billy by the table, he had a strange posture. She called out pointing to his hat still on the bar. 'Don't forget your hat sir... It's mighty hot out...'

In truth she felt so odd talking, like she had become a stranger in her own bar...

Entering the first general store he could find, Jacob darted in.  As he swung the door open a bell hanging above sounded a jingle, alerting the store owner who had been somewhere in the back.  It was an old light-skinned man with white hear atop his head.  "What is it I could do fer ya, stranger?" The man asked with a smile on his face, keeping his hands under the counter.  "Trade." Jacob replied simply.

Walking up to the shopkeeper Jacob unslung his duffel bag from his back and onto the counter top.  He took the flap on the top of the bag off and dumped the assortment of weapons on the tabletop.  As Jacob did this the old man's smile withered, now realizing what kinda man he was dealing with.  "Maybe you better talk to the sheriff, kid, he'd have more use for all these gu-" As the man started walking out from behind the counter Jacob cut the man off, both sentence and path.  "No, no sheriff."  Jacob held a six-shooter by his hip, aimed at the old man.

"Now I'm a fair man.  I'm not gonna rob ya.  Just gonna take what those guns are worth.  Okay? Okay."  Jacob grabbed the bag from the counter.  Holding the bag in the same hand as his gun, Jacob kept the revolver trained on the old man as he went across the shop.  He grabbed a handful of cigars and extra shotgun shells.  "That horse outside for sale?" Jacob gestured to a brown mayor.  "No. It's mine." The old man's voice was filled with anger.  "That's eleven guns you got there on your counter, fair trade if I do say."

The old man glared at Jacob as he slowly left the store, never taking the weapon's aim away from him.  "I'm really not a bad guy."  Jacob said before holstering his pistol and turning around out the door with a brisk walk.  Before the shop door even closed a shotgun blast from inside the store exploded through the large glass window.  Jacob ducked as glass shards flew through the air.  He wasn't sure if he was hit by the gunshot and didn't really have the time.  He sprinted toward the horse he had just 'bought'.

Undoing the reigns from the post, Jacob slung himself into the saddle and starting kicking the horse to get moving.  The old man came running out of the store, loading his shotgun and yelling. "THEIF! THEIF! THEIF!"  Not even looking back Jacob started riding out of town as fast as he could, hoping he would be long gone before lawmen pursued.

Looking at Ela, Billy walked over to her, taking the hat with a nod. "Thank you kindly miss," he said, putting it back on before walking out the door.

Once he was outside and his back to the place, he allowed himself to scowl and roll his eyes. Of course my luck runs out, he thought.

Ela watched the stranger leave with relief, she didn't know what had gone on between him and Sandy but she knew it would end in someone's blood being spilled, she was just glad it would happen in the dirt and not her bar.

Sighing she went to collect the glasses left behind at the table, as the Sheriff too seemed to take his leave. 'Bye Sandy....' she sheepishly called though he seemed to take no notice. If she could have, Ela would ban him, but who bans the Sheriff? When they show up who do you call for to get rid of them? The Deputy... Her head shook, she'd much rather be shooting fowl right now.

James walked on, alone and in the scorching heat, toward where he thought would be a town of some sort. Somewhere he can get some shade at least. Normally he would wait until nightfall to move, as he never had much in the way of transport, but they found him again. That time it was almost too much for him to handle. Three lawmen and two bounty hunters. Way more then usual. It seemed the further away he gets the more valuable he becomes. He didn't want to even see his bounty at this point. All that mattered was he was so close, the frontier was just up ahead. If only he had a motorbike or even with a horse he'd be out of British territory in just a few days. But was it all worth it? How many lives had he taken? No, he mustn't think of this. It didn't matter now.

As he continued he thought he heard the sounds of steam powered engines from far behind him. Couldn't be them. he thought. Unless they found new lockpins. Probably should've done more... Suddenly very concerned, or possibly just paranoid, James quickly but calmly searched the area for cover. Even if they sounded a good few minutes away he knew it was a false pretense. He could never really get accustomed to their sound and always misjudged their distance. Past experience tells him they're just over the hill. He looked around again, more frantically. "Damnit!" He cursed aloud. He was out of time. There was no other way out. He turned to face them.

Down the river.....should be easy, Billy thought. Walking away from the saloon, he drifted through the town, eyes wandering casually over the buildings. There were maybe a dozen or so. Maybe less. The majority were homes, and some were even still being built. Wagons were pitched here and there, the transport of settlers who had come for new starts. Somehow, he doubted life here would be much better than what was back East.

Making a stop at his bike for spare ammo and his binoc-goggles, he continued on to the edge of town. There was indeed a river, not as broad as most but still there. It winded down the desert, and just to be sure he put his goggles on, zooming out to the horizon. There it was, a barn sized building, most likely the distillery. It wasn't far, so he didn't have to take the bike.

Probably for the best anyway, would have kicked up too much dust.

O'leary's, the black calligraphy painted on the broad side of the reclaimed barn. Once used for cattle now a thriving distillery. Three whole vats and over a $1000 dollars of debt. That's what held that building up more than the rotting timber structure.

Dennis, the oldest of the two brothers had been concerned about the investment. He didn't qutie believe it until he saw it for himself. The clearest, smoothest drink he had had since he left the East. This could make back the fortune they lost. He had to hand it to his brother, but right now he had to leave. Three new barrels loaded on the cart and ready to be delivered. Still dragging the booze around with horses. Maybe one day he could invest in one of those machines to pull the cart. Leaving the building he didn't lock any doors, he knew his younger brother was kippin in back, but still no one came this far out anyway, not exactly like you can steal distillery anyhow.

He settled his foot against the carts lip, and with a flick of his wrists and yell the horses began pulling him away.

Billy had crept up behind some bushes near the distillery, keeping watch as someone from inside the barn mounted a wagon and headed off. He panned over the place with his goggles, checking for any guards. Oddly though, he didn't see much of anyone. Either they were all inside, or there were no guards to be had.

He darted from the bushes towards the barn, slowing down as he closed in on a side door. It was open for Christ's sake; what kind of 'bad men' were these O'Leary's? Clearly not bright ones....if they were bad at all. Creeping inside, he let his eyes adjust and take in what was indoors. Oh it was a distillery alright, with all the vats and machinery needed to make whatever brew one fancied.

The wind picked up knocking the door against the barn wall behind Billy.

'Dennis? 'at you? Thought you left with the cart...' A voice from the back of the barn rung out. His footsteps began to creep towards the entrance but stopped somewhere midway. The rattling of tin or cups could be heard as a dim tungsten light bulb turned on, reflecting the brass of the vats and their strange Royal markings. An uncommon sight this far west.  

The man was in long johns, swiping away the sleep in his eyes waiting for his brother to respond.
'Yo you get the barrels on okay?' One of the largest vats obstructed his view of the door though he had got used to that, wasn't exactly roomy in the barn.

Billy didn't respond. He simply stood there, drawing his gun. "Dennis ain't here," he said, aiming the gun at the newcomer. "Just a man wondering how people who leave the door unlocked are such a threat."

The man's posture was slumped, tangled in some frozen jig of fear and anger. He mumbled his words out so they were inaudible at first until he finally spoke with some more authority. 'Who the fuck are you...?' Look I ain't got no cash on me stranger, this ain't no bank alright. He lifted his hands up to his side, exposing his bare palms in a clear forfeit for his life.

Jacob rode for a couple of hours, pushing the horse before letting it rest for a moment. He spoke as he dismounted his newly acquired horse. "Sorry gir-" Jacob stopped himself before looking beneath the stallion. "Boy. Don't need anyone on our tail. Had to push you harder than I would've liked but I think we're fine now." Jacob pat the horse's neck with his right hand while feeding it some grass with his left. Getting out his water flask he realized he had forgot to fill it. "Dammit." He exclaimed before looking to the golden sky, then an almost invisible road hiding in the desert terrain.

"I give or take we have an hour of light left, boy. Sorry but I can't be sparing any water with ya." Jacob climb back into the leather saddle before darting down the road.

Not even armed? What the hell? Billy thought. He was a killer, sure.....but he didn't kill unarmed men. At least not without good reason. "Mind telling me what's going on?" Billy demanded. "The sheriff back in town offered me a hundred dollars if I killed you O'Leary's, and burned the barn for good measure." Thumbing the hammer back, he continued ""Told me you and your brothers were crooks, yet somehow that doesn't seem true now that I look at you."