The man in the tan long coat and matching flat hat stumbled towards the cluster of buildings he had been traveling to. When he'd first seen it, he thought it was some thirst-induced hallucination. Being aimless in the first place, he had walked to the town. Now that he was there, he saw how small it was. There couldn't have been more than thirty buildings in the entire town, and as he walked through the street, he couldn't have seen more than half that. The first building he'd walked by that was right next to the dirty sign that read "Welcome" from the perspective of someone entering town, and "Adios amigo" on the back was a large building that read MAYOR on a sign at the very top. The man would've called it the largest building in town, but another building-one on the other side, right behind a big well-gave it a sure run for it's money. That one simply said GUNS, and the man made a note to go there soon. First, however, he needed a drink. He stood in the middle of town and scanned for the building marked SALOON and when he did, he made a beeline. He stepped inside and was slightly surprised by the amount of people there. Many wore farmer's clothes, and were probably locals, and others wore guns, just like the traveler. Drifters? Bounty hunters? A gang? He didn't know, and he didn't worry. He didn't plan on staying in this town long. He took a seat at the bar, two seats away from another man with a gun as big as the traveler's Colt .45 and waved over the bartender.

The traveler finished his drink and the bartender asked if he needed anything else. The traveler nodded. “You got a bank? Somewhere that sells gold?” The bartender nodded. “Yes, yes. If the traveling wagon is here, you can sell it there but you can make far more by taking it to the bank.” The wanderer nodded and put a small gold coin on the table and stood up. He had a massive sum of gold in the pockets of his long coat, and he was ready to cash in. After the fight he’d gone through to find it and then a walk through the desert, he felt he earned it. He swung open the doors of the bar and almost walked right into a small, blonde woman.

The wanderer put his hands on his belt and leaned against the doorway. He had wanted to get his gold to the bank as soon as possible, but he supposed it wouldn’t be polite to simply walk away from the woman he’d almost knocked down. He adjusted his hat so it revealed his blue eyes, giving him what he hoped was a much less menacing approach despite the permanent almost-squint from his constant being outside in the blazing sun with the bright ball of flames reflecting off the desert sand.
“Well, I’d like to say it’s the call of adventure in faraway lands, Miz Stanton, but it would be much more to the point if I just said money. Gold, specifically.” He hadn’t spoken in days, weeks probably, and his voice was quiet but strong. His accent wasn’t quite placable because of the man’s rasp, and the man himself wouldn’t remember if he didn’t know better.
“If you’d seen me before, there’s a good chance you would’ve recognized me just now, so I guess this is hello.”

San Miguel should have been a one horse town but the usually rift raft of bandits and thieves kept it in constant supply of the equine kind. Of course, that was not why Miss Elizabeth Culpeper and her band of merry men found themselves in the Saloon of that very town. No, the party came with an agenda. Some may call it noble but most . . . no doubt would think it down right criminal.

Yet, as Miss Elizabeth Culpeper put it so eloquently to her men, "Is it really thieving if you're thieving from a thief?" Naturally, no body could argue with that. That was how the folks of James River Farm found themselves chuckling along with the rest of the patrons of the Saloon as an out of place Miss almost found her face flattened by wood.

Miss Ellie Culpeper and some of her most trusted and loyal servants and farmhands soon turned back into their circle at the corner of the bar. All with whiskey in hand. A little courage before the almost impossible feet.

"Now, listen up boys." Ellie began in hushed tones. "The news is, there's a train coming in hot here in about thirty minutes or so. All that stinky fingered loot and dollars sitting there in that crooked bank across the way is being taken to an even bigger crooked back all the way to Washington. Now you all know what to do don't you?"

The four men nodded in unison. Concentration and the gravity of the situation upon their features as they listened carefully to the woman dressed as a man. Her corset hidden under her coat and those long legs covered in unlady like pants that could barely be seen beneath boots that came past knee high. She dirtied up good for a woman of fine breeding.

"Ya'll know why we need to do this-" She stopped and breathed in quickly. "Ya'll know I'd never ask any of you to risk your li-"

"Miss Ellie." Interrupted a tall obsidian farmhand. His voice gentle, in stark contrast to his fierce appearance. "I know we'd all do anythin, just anythin for ol' Mr Culpeper."

"That's right there girly." Added Bo Bedford leaning his sturdy frame back against the dirty bar; who did odd jobs on the farm for as long as Ellie could remember. He had scruffy blonde hair with an even scruffier beard that was turning ever so slightly silver these days and the man would never be caught short without a toothpick between his teeth. "I couldn't have said it better than Atticus here myself."

"I agree." Pipped up Sawyer, a young man in his twenties with golden blonde hair that framed his face, who also worked hard on the farm. No one knew much about Sawyer, only that he came to steal a cow about five years ago, Lord only knew why or what for but found himself working on the farm after Mr Culpeper caught him and spoke to him and never left. Sawyer didn't say much. He was as secretive as he was handsome and that was abundantly.

George, another black servant of the household nodded again heartily.

"Good men." Ellie smiled with renewed reassurance. She knew she could count on these men with their lives and her own, nevertheless, it was good to hear it. "Now, as soon as we leave this bar we're all strangers. We go our separate ways. However, as soon as that train rolls in . . ." The whiskey in her glass sloshed as she moved her hand like a train coming into station. "We all get on as fast. And as inconspicuously as we can. Real casual like. Old Billy's got horses waitin' on us in Bunkie, ready for us as soon as we disembark. Now, I don't need to go over what happens there on the train or after we get to Bunkie do I?"

The men shook their heads and Ellie breathed in deeply tipping her hat at them and they did the same in return. "Well boys, it's gonna be one hell of a ride." To which they all clinked glasses and downed the hard whiskey. A crocked grin on each of their face.

They were ready.

The woman the traveler had been talking to seemed uncomfortable when he’d told her he’d been in town for gold. He could see she was contemplating who he was. He tried his hand at a grin.
“Don’t worry, ma’am. I’m selling, not taking. Picked up a tidy sum of gold from a... friend and hiked here. Figured farther I went, more valuable the gold’d be. Plan on using some of it to stay at the inn, get some supplies, then maybe a train ticket. That or I’ll just follow the railroad.” Suddenly the traveler frowned.
“Say, why’d you be a target just for asking my business?”

The traveler winced slightly when the schoolteacher asked if he had a family. He decided to ignore it, and pondered the previous question. He supposed he didn’t really know where he planned to go. He could go West to California, he’d heard there was a lot of opportunities there. On second thought, there were probably also a lot of Indian tribes, and he’d learned not to mess with the Natives. He figured he’d try and give the lady a vague answer that would still satisfy her.
“Well Miz Stanton, I guess I don’t have much of a plan. I’ll probably be staying here a week or so, and then I’ll most likely hit the road again. I figure the gold I picked up should be enough for food and board and, if I’m lucky, a horse. Maybe even some rounds to protect myself. I’m sure I’ll find some boom town or gold mine and before you know it I’ll be at another town making profit. That’s usually the plan.”

The traveler grinned again.
“I’ll be sure to stop by, Miz Stanton. Hope we meet again, ma’am,” he said as he adjusted his hat back over his eyes. He walked away from the saloon and looked around for the bank. He caught the large sign and walked to the building. At the bank he was able to sell his gold for exactly as much as he hoped, and then immediately deposited all of it for the time being with the exception of a fistful of dollars, enough to pay his first night at the inn, maybe get a mule, and buy some rounds for his .45, depending on the price. Off to the side, he heard two citizens talking about the Railroad that was coming into town. It was a big locomotive, and it was a spectacle for such a small town. The traveler apologized to the two for butting in and asked where such a train’s station could be found. He followed their directions until he got to the stop.
The stop was the size of a very small ranch, with a platform next to the tracks and inside was a ticket vendor, chairs, and presumably restrooms. The traveler stood at the platform, marveling at technological advancements these days. He wasn’t going to board the train, but wanted to see it arrive and maybe ask the conductor a thing or two about steam powered machines. Suddenly, a big blonde man with a silver streak in his unkempt beard pushed by the traveler, not bothering to excuse himself but rather quickly walked into the station. The traveler leaned against the outside wall of the station and wondered what that man could possibly be in such a rush for.

It was pure luck that woke him up when he did. For the past three stations he had been fast asleep, though he hadn't meant to be. No, he'd meant to be alert and ready for trouble, but the uneven shaking of the train had lulled him to sleep against his will. In a hazy place between sleep and waking, he heard the conductor inform another passenger that the next station was San Miguel. William rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the feeling of perpetual tiredness that hung over him these days. He sat up, peering through the window at the landscape beyond at the same dusty desert they'd been travelling through for miles. No sign of civilisation yet, he noted, though that wasn't unheard of. Outside the city, towns rose out of the horizon like unexpected rocks in the road. It was something he had learned, even in his short time away from the comforts of city living.

San Miguel represented a beacon of hope. It was a long shot, but there was still a chance that Culpeper remembered him. Whether he'd be willing to help was another matter, but it was still the best option. An unexpected ally that Joseph had no reason to know of, and if he did, had no reason to suspect William would go to for help. From Culpeper's house he could plan his next move, hopefully in relative safety before Joseph's goons caught up with him. Of course, there was always the possibility that someone else would kill him before they had the chance to. He had heard tales of the kind of people that lived in these small communities- outlaws, gangs surviving with half of Joseph's wit but twice the cruelty. Nowhere was safe anymore.

William leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes searching for the first signs of buildings, a knot building in the pit of his stomach- a familiar feeling of anxiety.

It had been a long ride on the trail, dust, coupled with all the thorns he had ridden through on his way to San Miguel from home, had done little for his appearance, not to mention his smell. Still Jesse Banse, though battered and weary, did not stray from his usual swagger. Instead he sauntered through the dusty saloon, looking for the first sign of a bath and a place to sleep. Really, the sleep was more his concern at the moment, though a hot bath and a shave would have been slightly more than welcome as well. Come to think of it, someone doing a bit of laundry might have been a welcome sight as well. San Miguel was a dust bowl but it did have one thing going for it, the railroad. Yes sir, all that money riding in on those hot little rails, couldn't help but make a man see dollar signs. After a brief discussion with the bartender, Jesse made his way upstairs and towards a room. The saloon might have had drinks but at this point the outlaw really only cared about one thing, sleep and plenty of it. He had really only just laid his head down when he heard the all too familiar click of a pistol, as he turned over, he was face to face with a bounty hunter. His mouth sat agape as on instinct he began to reach for his gun belt only to be threatened silently with the barrel of a .45. The man pulled the trigger, Jesse closed his eyes bracing for the horror to come and... click, misfire!

Shortly after, the sound of a man whistling in a "yoohoo" kind of fashion, the man dropped like a sack of potatoes, falling in a heap to the floor. In the doorway stood a smiling, soul, it was his cousin Colt! Jesse jumped up from the bed wrapping his arms around the man as he exclaimed "Well I'll be damned! How's it buzzin' cousin?!" The man put his pistol away and began to embrace his cousin in a similar fashion as he retorted "Next time we meet somewhere, I'm pickin' the spot. I can't count the number of cactus and rattlers I've met comin' down this way." With a laugh Jesse retorted "At least you finally found a way you can hit somethin' with that pistol of yours." "Keep bein' funny idgit, next time I'll let him turn your head into a canoe. Anyway, imagine that post in the paper 'Devil Jesse Banse brought down by a farmer with a six gun.' might be a touch humblin' even to you." Jesse scoffed as he let his cousin go, dragging the palm of his hand down his face as he replied "What is it with you? You still sore about Siler City?" "Damn it Jess that was not a robbery, more like a chance for the locals to see how well they could shoot. They killed one of the Cooper boys, captured the other, word is he met with some lovely boys who had potato sacks pulled over their heads and did the dead man's dance from a tree. That could have been us." "But it ain't us.
Besides, no way that tree limb could hold all three of us." As Jesse winked with a chuckle, Colt began his speech with a slow shake of his head "I see you're not just lacking in looks but brains too. Listen idgit what in the name of a lbue tick hound's butt am I doin' here? I didn't really see a bank worth robbin', this saloon ain't shit. Have you finally gone soft in the head? Or do you have a particular affection for sunburn and snake bites?" "No, no, cousin word is there's a train comin' she's full of cash, Union soldier pay to be exact." "Bullshit! Ain't a damn soul gonna tell you a damn thing about blue belly pay. You really are soft in the head."

"Ain't true! Now would you shut up before you tell everyone in the saloon?"Now Colt began to drag his fingers through his beard "Just where did you hear this from?" "Silky Jane heard from Bill Perkins and..." "Silky Jane is a two bit a trick whore and Bill Perkins?! Really? That man come out of the womb drunk, probably with a bottle of whiskey in each hand. Besides, he couldn't find his butt with both hands and a map. Who's your next source gonna be? School kids. Probably be more reliable and twice as damned accurate." Jesse now sighed as he replied "You know what your problem is? You're always so negative. Let a few black clouds gather on the horizon and you're off to start complainin' like there was some sort of race goin' on to see who could do the most. You have to believe Colt! You have to see your objective, believe you can take it, then make it happen son." Colt's hand now covered his face, he knew there was no way of talking Jesse out of this so he mumbled from under the palm of his hand "What's our crew look like? I tried the Culvers, they refuse to ride with you. Said they're tired of their wanted posters not comin' out right while yours is drawn to perfection." "Bob Culver really said that? Sounds like he needs to check his ego a little." "Yeah idgit, like yours is so small. Anyway, what about those Mexican fellers you knew?" "You mean the Dominguez brothers? Paco is crazier than a shit house rat his brother Juan...even worse." "I see, so the only person you want gettin' our asses shot off is you? Is that about right? We're going to take a train with a two man team? You and me against the world Jess? I'm good but I ain't that good and neither are you." "No, it's not like that, I'm just thinkin' is all. Besides anyone we bring in we have to divvy up shares with.
I don't want to do that!" "Jess! It's a train! It's gonna be full of guards. We need a way to stop it and we need enough guns to keep them boys from gettin' itchy fingers. You and me alone ain't gonna get that done. Don't be thick your whole life!" "What's your plan then? Or is it to keep complainin' about everything I try to put together?" "You just keep thinkin' Jess,
it gets funnier and scarier by the second. Now let's go get a drink." "What about the bounty hunter?" "We'll walk downstairs and tell people he tried to take advantage of your virtues. Make sure you have your hourly rate figured out first." "Funny, really funny and while I am easy, I'm not that easy." Colt then laughed as the pair walked down the stairs "Somehow Jess, I don't think I ever want to know where you draw the line." Jesse laughed as he retorted in a soft voice "Oh Colt..." "Don't start! You'll be the second thing I hit with a pistol today." "That'd be the second thing you hit with a pistol in your lifetime." "Oh shut up."

The heels of Vivian's black shoes clicked against the steps as she walked downstairs, mentally preparing herself for another long, grueling day of work. She had many responsibilities to tend to within the saloon - waiting on customers, bussing tables, and, when it got later in the day, dancing for entertainment. It had taken her a long time to learn how to dance well, but she'd eventually managed. After almost ten years working in the saloon, she liked to consider herself quite good at her job.

As she rounded the corner into the main area of the saloon, she was relieved to see that it wasn't too terribly busy. There was a pair of men who'd just come down the stairs ahead of her, a small group in a corner with drinks already served, and a man engaged in conversation with the local schoolteacher. Vivian didn't know the woman's name - they were around the same age, so she'd obviously never taught Vivian as a child. Had they gone to school together? Vivian couldn't be sure. Generally, the only people whose names she took care to learn were the male regulars who tipped well. Anyone else, even people who came in all the time, was just another face to her.

Vivian strolled over to the counter, glancing around again. There didn't seem to be anybody who needed their flagon topped up just yet, so she had some time to stand around and look pretty until someone called her over for service.

Vivian quirked a curious eyebrow as the schoolteacher approached her, but smiled nonetheless as she listened to what the woman had to say. Clementine. So that was her name. Wasn't a clementine some sort of fruit? The woman was holding out a basket, and a towel within was covering something that was suspiciously bread-shaped. Vivian reached out and gently took the basket from Clementine as she held it out. "Certainly, ma'am. I'm always up for a spot of heroism from time to time," Vivian responded with a soft laugh. "Dare I ask what it might be?" she added curiously.

Vivian laughed at Clementine's comment, shaking her head. "That wasn't my concern at all. I can handle smugglers," she joked in response. She was intrigued by Clementine saying that it was some sweet bread that she'd made. Vivian had no skill in the kitchen whatsoever. She could clean, and she could pour drinks, but she certainly couldn't cook. She'd tried a few times, but the kitchen staff in the back of the saloon had quickly kicked her out when they realized what a disaster it was becoming. Had she been a less honest woman, she'd have considered snagging a bite or two of the bread for herself, but she'd never dare steal from the kindly owner who'd taken pity on an orphaned teenager and given her a job and a room for all these years.

A smile came to Clementine's face suddenly, a more genuine smile from within than the friendly smile she'd given to Vivian in the first place. Then, the schoolteacher proposed that they should spend time together some day - she offered to treat Vivian to sweet bread and iced tea, and she said that they should be friends. It certainly wasn't a terrible idea. Vivian entertained male company whenever she could, but she had no female friends. A smile spread across her face now, a genuine one just as Clementine's had been. "I'd like that very much, M'z Stanton," she responded softly. "When d'you, y'know, not have the munchkins in the schoolhouse? I'm sure my schedule's got a good deal more flexibility than yours," she said with a light laugh.

Vivian lifted a hand to adjust her tight curls slightly as she listened to Clementine's words. She was excited by the prospect of having a friend. She just wasn't entirely sure what she'd do with a friend. Aside from going to Clementine's house for some sweet bread and iced tea, what would they do together? She knew what men did with their friends - they went out drinking, tried to pick up women, played cards, smoked cigars, went out hunting... None of those activities sounded terribly appealing to Vivian, though, except for maybe the cards, and she doubted they'd be appealing to Clementine. The woman was clearly intelligent and well-educated, and her fondness of children definitely indicated a layer of innocence that Vivian could only wish for.

Clementine's schedule sounded busy, and Vivian grinned slightly. "Well, I can tell ya for sure that nine o'clock's much too early," she said with a slight chuckle. "I work the evening tonight and tomorrow, but the next day I'm on the afternoon shift and should be done roughly five o'clock, maybe a bit early if it's slow. I could come 'round after then, if that'd suit you!" She remembered having friends when she was a little girl in the schoolhouse - they'd played tag and hide 'n' seek in the schoolyard, and bossy little Susie Robinson had always thrown a fit when she'd lost. They'd also played with Susie's dolls, except no one was allowed to touch them except Susie, so it was mostly just the girls all sitting in a circle watching Susie and her dolls. Of course, what kids did together was much different from what adult friends would do.

A loud whistle blew, and the traveler looked and saw the massive locomotive coming from the distance. When the train slowed to a stop, many people flocked to get on and off the engine. One of the people to come out was the conductor, a stout man ringing a bell.
“Everybody on, next stop’s Rose Creek!” He shouted, waving the bell around. He came up to the traveler.
“You sir, you have a ticket” He asked. “Come to take a ride on the best railroad north of the border? South of the border, if that’s where were going sometimes!”
The traveler was amused by the man’s enthusiasm. “No, sorry sir. Just showed up here, actually. Pretty nice train isn’t it?”
He said. The man smiled.
“Why yes! They’ve been working on this train for years, yes they have! College graduates, too! You’ll never find a better, faster, stupider train!” The traveler could tell the conductor wouldn’t be stopping any time soon, and slowly slipped away as the man was caught up with himself. He needed to look around the town some more. He knew. He’d go to the big building marked GUNS.

The gun house was huge. It seemed more like one of the majors he’d been to with a hundred slaves working on the plantation. He stepped inside the building, and he saw he was only on one floor. He was surrounded by guns and ammo, and to his right was a staircase leading to the second floor where a man stood at with a rifle. The traveler sidled up to the counter where a man stood behind.
“What’re ya buyin’, stranga?” The man asked, grinning with a cigar clenched between his teeth.
“Well, I need bullets for a Colt .45. I got a few already, so I think three rounds should do fine.” He responded. The seller cackled.
“Three rounds, eh? Eighteen bullets? I’d value that at, let’s see... I’d say seventy five dollars is a fair deal, yeah?” The traveler raised his eyebrows. “What kind of price is that?” He demanded.
“A fair one,” the seller said, sidddnly sounding much angrier. “You got a problem, you can shove it.” The traveler’s hand started to go to his side when he heard a loud click. He looked up and saw the man on the top of the stairs pointing his rifle at the traveler’s head. The seller grinned.
“Now, you were buying something?”
The traveler nodded slowly and put seventy five dollars on the table, and the seller put the rounds on the table. He grinned again, and the traveler took the cigar out of the seller’s mouth and stuck it in his own, then put the rounds in his pocket. As he left the building, he heard the clerk say “We’re not going to let him get away with that!” and five seconds after he was on the street, a gun cracked and a bullet hit the ground next to his feet. He spun around and drew his gun, then fired his own Colt at the doorway. He missed, and the man with the rifle cocked the gun for another shot. The traveler sprinted to the well not far from the building and dived behind it, dropping the man’s cigar as more gunshots whizzed by him. He sat there for a minute as a rifle hit the sand around him. When the shots subsided, he heard the seller yell “And don’t come back, you sunna gun!” And a loud door slam. The traveler sat there for a second. That was close. Too close. At least now he knew why that Stanton woman had seemed so afraid.

Vivian grinned, nodding as Clementine excused herself. "Of course. Have fun plannin' lessons and all," she chimed with a light laugh. She watched as her new friend left, and then she looked around the saloon. There was probably work to be done, and as much as she usually dreaded it, she actually didn't feel too badly about having to do work now. She had a new friend, and there was a renewed bounce in her step as she began to do a quick lap of the saloon, figuring she'd stop by each of the tables to see whether or not they needed anything at the moment.