Tales From the West » Places

         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.

         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.

         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.

         

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.