Frontier Justice

[IronChief]

Frontier Justice

Henry Banes turned the key in the door lock to close the shop for the night. A sigh escaped unexpected from his lips like the last puff of steam from cooling boiler. It had been a long day. He then went from lamp to lamp in the shop reducing the gas lights to a dim glow. The shop was a tidy affair, just over 12 feet wide but running nearly 100 feet deep. It was typical frontier construction, almost everything, floors, walls, counters and shelves, were built from the native wood of the area. One expensive pane of glass for the front window was hand painted in block letters, BANES MERCHANTILE.

Henry caught a glimpse of movement through the glass. He peered through the darkened store to the dusty street outside. He could see the outline of the buildings on the other side of the street. But as the town of Sharp Pass didn’t have any street lights, the street was indistinct in the gathering gloom. If anything had been out there, it was gone now. The only sound was tinny piano music and the murmur of voices from The Imperial saloon down at the end of the street. All the respectable businesses had closed for the night.

Henry made his way past the shelves stacked with clothing, mining tools, camp supplies and weapons. He paused to consider a small display box which contained “artifacts” he had taken in trade from the miners. He had the usual assortment of small glass jars and vials which were commonly found in ruins, a few metal buttons, a small stone statue which may have been a hoarcat, and his newest addition, a broach or medallion. It was made of gold strands of wire twisted around one another to make a rope. The rope was twisted as well into a circle. Each strand of wire had very tiny letters engraved all along it, most impossible to see without a magnifying glass. The entire thing was about the size of a man’s palm. By the weight of the gold alone, it was the most valuable thing in the case, possibly in the entire store.

A young miner had brought it in. He was wild eyed and was only interested in trading it and a few other meager possessions for enough money to get a ticket back to Earthside. Henry had seen his type before. They came with dreams of making a fortune, only to have those dreams shattered by the harsh reality of Malifaux. “Of all the shops in all of Malifaux, why do the charity cases always find mine?” He wondered aloud. Of course, this one hadn’t been a charity case as the medallion would turn a tidy profit with the right buyer.

He continued to the back of the store and then up the stairs to his apartment and storeroom above. Like most of the inhabitants of Sharp Pass, he lived where he worked. Only the truly rich could afford a separate house.

Henry finished his evening meal and was just preparing to get into bed when he heard a wild galloping of horses down the street. He ran to the small upstairs window and peered out into the darkened street. He could see six riders galloping past in the light from The Imperial, the lead rider had dark hair billowing out behind her like a war banner. The second rider bore a huge sword on his back. The remaining riders all appeared to be carrying… coffins? “Oh Hell! Death Marshalls!” Henry rocked back on his heels as if their passing had created a gust of wind which blew through the closed window. The riders disappeared out of town into the inky night.

Henry stood blinking after them, chewing his lower lip in thought. He thought of the times he had ridden hell bent for leather with a six gun on his hip and how it usually turned out. Then he turned, still in his nightshirt, and rushed downstairs. From the back of the store, he hoisted the heavy iron grill which would fit into the frame of his front window. He had it made nearly a year ago, but as nothing much ever seemed to happen in Sharp Pass, he had gotten out of the habit of locking it into place every night. Tonight suddenly seemed like a good night to get back into the habit. Sweat broke out on his forehead has he took small steps to the front of the store bearing the heavy grill.

He nearly had the grill in place when a small head popped up to peer in over the sill of the window. Henry dropped the grill in surprise which landed squarely on his bare foot.

“Yeow!!!” screeched Henry yanking his foot out and dancing around on one leg while holding his throbbing foot in his hands. He danced around for a couple of minutes before the pain subsided enough from more rational thought. What had he seen? “I’ll be damned if that didn’t look like a child’s rag doll peeping in.” He looked out into the night. There was nothing moving except for a ground fog which was rolling into town. The lights of The Imperial were surrounded by glowing halos and the outlines of the buildings across the street were blurred. “Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.” He muttered.

He hoisted the grill into place and slid the locking bolts home. He considered getting the door key and checking outside the store front, but decided against it. “This ain’t the night for opening doors, that’s for sure.”

On his way back upstairs, he paused by the displace case and picked up the gold medallion. “I think you need to be put away for safe keeping.” He dropped the medallion into the pocket of his night shirt. He then made a second stop by the gun rack. He considered the glimmering six shooters in the dim gas light. “I ain’t like that anymore.” he muttered and looked up to the long arms standing along the wall. Henry selected a used double barrel shotgun with exposed hammers and a dark oak stock. Flipping the release, the weapon broke and Henry pulled two 00 shotgun shells from the shelf and thumbed them into the breach. Then grabbing a handful of four or five more shells he dropped them into his nightshirt pocket which caused the shirt to sag terribly on one side. Satisfied, he headed back upstairs, propped the shotgun by his bed, set the shells on the night stand, and blew out the light.

Henry sat bolt upright in bed. He heard the sound of wood squealing as it was bent and the sharp cracks as individual boards and beams gave way under pressure. He grabbed the shotgun and hurried to the stairs. Staring down into the dimly lit store, at first he saw nothing but then a piece of wood went skittering across the floor from the back of the store. Turning to look, he saw a massive shape pushing through the wall. It wasn’t attacking the wall, it was simply pushing through it with massive strength causing the wood to bend and break. Henry thumbed back both hammers on the shotgun, took aim at what must be the head and cut loose with both barrels. The roar of the shotgun with deafening in the small shop and a satisfyingly large chuck of the creature disappeared into a gooey mist.

But the creature didn’t stop. If anything, it increased its pushing and more boards broke away allowing it to swing a massive leg into the shop. Henry ran through a quick mental checklist:

Not human: check

Really strong: check

Immune to having its head blown into the next town: check

Conclusion: Time to go!

He paused to consider putting on his pants just long enough to hear the whole back wall of the shop collapsing, ran to the night stand, scooped the five shotgun shells back into his nightshirt pocket, and went to the front upstairs window. From what he could see, the street was empty, but with the fog, anything could be lurking down there. He opened the window, lowered the shotgun as far as he could then let it drop, stock first, to the street. He then turn around and went through the windows legs first lowering himself as far as he could by holding onto the sill before dropping to the street. His wounded foot screamed in agony as it hit. Henry briefly saw stars before his eyes.

Shaking his head to clear his vision, he looked for the shotgun. A rag doll was heaving the stock onto its cloth shoulder and trying to drag the heavy gun away. Henry lurched toward it and grabbed the barrel of the gun. The little doll clung to the stock and sounded as if it growled at him. Henry paused to consider the doll, but only for a moment. He then swung the shotgun by the barrel and with a snap of his wrist at the end of the swing sent the little doll sailing down the street out of sight.

Crashing sounds from inside the shop brought Henry back from enjoying his small victory. Glancing down the street, there were no lights at The Imperial. It must be really late. He began to hobble in that direction anyway. If there were people around, that is where he would be most likely to find them. Also, the doll was somewhere in the other direction. Two empty shells dropped to the street and Henry checked to make sure both barrels were clear before thumbing two fresh rounds into the breach. If any of his neighbors had heard the commotion, they had the good sense to stay inside and out of sight. Snap, snap, click, snap, snap, click and both hammers were drawn back on the old gun.

He reached The Imperial and rattled the front door, but it was locked up tight. Faint noises of destruction could still be heard from the direction of his shop. He raised a hand to pound on the door and yell to be let in when he caught sight of a darker shadow in the mist. It was roughly human shape but walked with a strange side to side motion. Henry lifted the shotgun to his shoulder. Another shadow appeared to the left of the first and seconds later, a third appeared on the right. With the darkness and fog they weren’t more than 15 feet away but still indistinct.

Henry froze hopping the deeper shadow around the doorway would conceal him from this new threat. As the nearest figure came closer, Henry could make out leathery skin that glimmered in the dim light, glassy eyes and fins. Just as it appeared they would pass by, the nearest one turned toward him and hissed. All three turned on him. “Ok Henry,” he said aloud, “three bad guys and two shells, a plan would be nice about now.” They edged closer, webbed claws extended toward him. Just as Henry was about to take his shots and hope to fight off whatever was left, a cracked voice rang out in the night.

“Give my servants the amulet and you can go, yes go and be bothered no more.” The voice sounded female and old, but muffled by the fog, it could have been coming from anywhere.

Henry used his cheek to steady the shotgun he held against his shoulder with his left hand while he slowly took his right hand and fished in his pocket. Rattling around with the three remaining shells was the loop of gold. He pulled it out and held it up beside the shotgun which was still pointed at the center creature. The creature extended a claw palm up to receive the golden thing.

As he held it, his mind was in turmoil. He was loath to part with the amulet, especially under threat. But certainly his life was worth more than this ancient hunk of gold, no matter how finely it was wrought. The urge to obey the voice began to win out.

The voice called again, “Fate is not with you tonight, give it up and live another day.”

His arm extended holding the amulet between thumb and forefinger to drop it into the outstretched claw. Before his eyes, the ropes of wire seemed to twist and bend. Suddenly recognizable letters gleamed silver in the night. They spelled: “I C A N H E L P.” Henry blinked. I… can… help? Oh. OH. His hand stopped inches from the claw. The compulsion to give up the medallion faded.

With the certainly of a man who takes that next drink knowing he’ll regret it in the morning, he dropped the amulet into his own palm and closed his fist on it. The first barrel of the shotgun boomed in the night. At that range, he could not miss the creature standing before him and knocked it back into the fog. Rotating left with the recoil, Henry unloaded the second barrel into that hapless creature still standing with claws outstretched but apparently shocked by the sudden disappearance of its friend. With the recoil the barrel was a little high so instead of hitting the thing’s chest, the shot blew its head clean off. The headless body flopped on the ground.

The third creature recovered and lunged for him. Its claws grabbed Henry’s shoulders and drew him toward an open mouth full of needle sharp teeth. Damn it was fast! If they had all jumped him instead of waiting to be handed the medallion, he would already have been dead. Henry’s dropped the shotgun and punched both fists into the thing's chest to push it back. The left fist had little impact, but the right was another story. The fishy flesh popped and sizzled under his right fist. The creature jumped back with a hiss of pain, its claws clutching at the blackened imprint of a fist on its chest. It glared balefully at Henry then leapt away and out of sight.

Henry opened his right hand in amazement. The medallion lay in his palm. Glowing symbols lit up the bottom half and at two points in the upper half. It looked like a smiley face.

The old woman’s voice called out again, “Fool, you have no idea the powers you trifle with.” Henry picked up the shotgun, opened the breach, checked the barrels and slid in two fresh shells from his pocket. He lifted the gun to his shoulder and swung in arc looking for the old woman. He didn’t see her, but caught a glimpse of movement down and to the left. Focusing on it, he saw the little rag doll trying to sneak up on him with a wickedly long hat pin clutched in its tiny hand. He fired one barrel at point blank range. The doll disappeared in a poof of stuffing.

A screech of rage pierced the night and made Henry’s skin crawl. The door flew off his shop and the massive creature he has seen before lumbered into the street. He could just make out its glowing green eyes in the fog. Henry reloaded the spent barrel with his last shell. If two shotgun shells at close range hadn’t even slowed it down before, he wasn’t sure how much good it was going to do now. He sighted down the twin barrels and noticed he could see the creature more clearly. He paused and glanced about. It was getting lighter. The sun was coming up. A breath of wind tore at the fog, shredding it. And suddenly like a veil lifting, Henry somehow knew the danger had passed.

The monster before him melted away leaving a puddle of ooze in the middle of the street. Little wisps of fluff blew past his feet. The bodies of the two creatures he killed still lay nearby but they seemed less frightening in the growing light. The sound of pounding hooves caused him to spin about but he lowered his shotgun at the sight of the red hair battle standard. The cavalry had arrived. As casually as he could, he pocketed the medallion as the posse slowed to a walk and rode up to him. Two of the death marshals dismounted with their coffins in tow and went to check the creatures lying in the street.

The man with the huge sword on his back was wearing a mask and goggles. “It appears you had some excitement.” He stated in a gravelly voice. Henry blinked at the statement of the obvious. The two bodies had disappeared into the coffins. The man continued, “Any idea what they were after?” The woman with the mane of red hair was turning her blindfolded face left and right as if examining every detail of the town.

Henry gestured toward the coffins, “Those critters never said.”

The man’s face was unreadable due to the mask and goggles, but his body language radiated dissatisfaction. “You know more than that, I am sure. Interfering with a Guild investigation is punis…” The lady interrupted him with a raised hand. “Judge, can’t you see this man has already had a difficult night.” She turned to face Henry, “Take care of yourself Mr. Banes, there are things in the night scarier than the Guild. But I guess you already know that. If you wish to discuss this further, leave word at any Guild office that you need Justice.” She turned her mount away from town. The two death marshals leapt on their horses, coffins in tow. “And Mr. Banes, you really should put some pants on...” With a slight smile on her lips, she rode out of town, red mane streaming.

Henry scratched his head as he limped back to the shop to see what could be salvaged, “How did she know my name?” he wondered aloud.

Edited September 21, 2010 by IronChief

[AvatarForm]

Wonderful. You managed to work everything in and still keep me wanting more!

[IronChief]

Frontier Justice – Part 2

The smell of the cook fire drifted through the long leaf pine trees in the early evening air. Henry Banes was a passable camp cook. Having never married and spending the majority of his 38 years on the trail, he had lots of time to practice.

Two weeks had passed since the attack on his store in Sharp Pass. Mayor Greely, a tall thin man with a long face and greying hair, had politely but firmly suggested the town didn’t need any trouble and that Mr. Banes’ lease on his shop had run out… yesterday. Henry didn’t blame the man much. Mayor Greely was good at running the little town, but you wouldn’t expect him to back you in a fight. It just wasn’t in his nature.

So, Henry picked supplies out of the wreckage of his shop that he would need and sold the rest to the Wong brothers down the street. Mayor Greely had even stepped in to make sure the Wongs gave him a fair price. That was as good a proof as any that the mayor really wanted him gone. He bought a roan riding horse and a brown pack mule and set out for the back country.

Henry wandered generally north for the next few days. He passed near enough to the town of Sawdust to see the smoke of the steam powered saw mill, but didn’t ride into town. Sawdust had a reputation for tough lumbermen who worked hard and played harder. There was no reason to go looking for trouble especially since it was probably following behind. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the creatures that had attacked him in Sharp Pass, but it didn’t figure that they had just given up.

“Hallo the camp,” a voice called out from the lengthening shadows along the track he had been following.

Henry lifted his eyes from the bacon he was frying to see a single man on horseback. The strangler had stopped a respectable distance away and was waiting for Henry’s response. While things were different in Malifaux, Henry had been raised to be generous to travelers. “Get down and come on in. Have you had supper?”

A short, stocky man got down stiffly from his horse and led the animal into the fire light. He had the fair complexion of an anglo, and wore a brown duster. A black bowler hat that could use the attention of a good brushing was perched on his head. Henry could just make out a worn two gun rig under the duster.

“Thankee, stranger, it’s a pleasure to share your fire.” He pronounced fire almost as if it had two syllables, Fi – Air. Henry nodded toward a tree with low branches where his own animals were tethered. The newcomer tended to his horse and settled on a patch of clear ground on the other side of the fire. They shared their provisions with Henry contributing beans and bacon while the newcomer had bread and cheese. Between the two, it made a respectable meal.

After they both had eaten their fill in relative silence, the newcomer belched and then said, “Billy D is my name, and I thank you again for the provender. If I ain’t being too nosy, who are you and where are you headin’?”

Henry nodded, “Name’s Banes, Henry Banes.” Giving the truth of why he was wandering the back country wouldn’t quite do, so he added, “I’m planning on doing some prospecting, up north a ways.”

Billy D seemed to accept the lie at face value. “There is a ranch another day or so along this path. I hear tell they are hiring guns to keep their herds safe. That’s where I’m headin’.” Billy D nodded to himself. “Yep, I even hear there is a pretty daughter that runs the house, though what fool brings his womenfolk to a place like this is beyond me.”

Henry’s thoughts returned unbidden to the image of Lady Justice on her horse. He smiled and tossed back, “Some of them womenfolk are tougher than us men.”

Billy D laughed and slapped his thigh, “Henry, you are right about that. I remember this one lady in Savannah…” Billy D went on to tell a bawdy story of questionable origins about a Madam and a customer who wouldn’t pay his bill. “… and I hear tell he’s never been able to get rid of the mark.”

By that time it had gotten dark, the true blackness of nighttime under a canopy of trees. A red glow from the embers of the fire gave both men’s faces a devilish appearance. Henry stirred and brought up two large chunks of wood he had saved for the night. They would burn slowly with less chance of the fire burning itself out. He dropped them onto the embers and a shower of glowing sparks shot up in a glittering column. He could see Billy D on the other side of the fire arranging his bedroll. “Night Billy D,” he said.

“Night Henry,” Billy D replied and settled his bowler to cover the top half of his face.

Both men started awake to a chorus of frightened whinnying. The horses stomped and pulled at their tethers. The fire only gave off a low glow from the coals which made seeing more than a few feet away impossible. Henry scratched a hand out across the ground searching by feel for the kindling he had gathered. He could just make out Billy D standing up and drawing a pistol. Somewhere beyond Billy D, Henry could see a pair of glowing red eyes. Barely above a whisper Henry said, “Billy D, right.”

The bowler topped gunfighter turned and spied the eyes. The flash of the pistol lit up their camp like a lightning bolt but was gone too quickly to reveal any enemies. Whether or not the shot in the dark hit anything, the eyes were gone.

Henry got his hand around some twigs and tossed them onto the fire. At first they only sizzled and smoked, but after what seemed like minutes, they caught. The little yellow flame grew and began to light the camp. The horses still pawed the ground nervously, the whites of their eyes showing in their fear.

A yowl pierced the night and a flying mass of claws and teeth impacted Henry’s back. Henry screamed and danced up trying to dislodge the thing with both hands. Billy D whirled pistol in hand to see a white furry critter clinging to Henry’s back but both were moving too much to risk a shot. Then he had problems of his own as another critter bowled into his leg nearly knocking him down. Billy D looked down into evilly glowing feline eyes. The hoarcat sank its claws into his leg through his heavy denim blue jeans and began to climb. Billy D flipped his pistol to grab it barrel first and began to beat at the critter on his leg.

Henry, meanwhile, danced in pain as the cat had worked its way up his back and was swiping his unprotected neck with its claws. Reaching back, Henry finally got hold of the creature just behind its forelegs. He ducked his head low and pulled the creature forward throwing it to the ground in front of him. He raised his head just in time to see the hoarcat twist and flip in midair so that it landed on its feet. The cat looked him in the eye and gave a low growling howl. Henry reached for his shotgun, and the hoarcat took off running into the night. The cat attacking Billy D dodged another blow from Billy D’s pistol butt, released its hold on his leg and also disappeared into the night.

Billy D looked down at his shredded jeans and blood leg. Henry placed his hand to the back of his neck and drew it around in front of his face to see how much blood was on it.

“Daaaamn.” Billy D was the first to speak. “I’d heard about them things but thought they were more up in the mountains and such.”

Henry was still considering the blood on his hand. “Yeah, that’s what I heard too. And that they travel in packs, not just ones and twos. I wonder what they were…” He didn’t get to finish his thought. Both men looked at each other and then at the tree where the horses had been. Had been, there were no horses there now. One broken tether rope dangled limply from a limb.

“Daaaamn.” Billy D said again. “They were after the horses!” He pulled his bowler off and slapped it against his thigh in frustration.

Henry peered into the night. “It’s too dark to track them now. A horse is pretty big and those cats are kind of small. We may find two of the horses still alive in the morning, if we’re lucky.”

Dawn came after a couple of sleepless hours. As soon as it was light enough, the two men began examining the signs around the camp. Neither was an expert tracker, but it was clear there had been more than two of the cats. Five or six seemed to be the likely count. The frightened horses left a clear path heading west.

They put all their food supplies into one set of saddlebags and used a rope to hoist it up into a tree. The saddles, blankets and other heavy gear they hid behind an old stump. Each man carried his firearms, canteen, some trail food and other necessities. There was no way they could carry the rest without animals.

The camp as secure as they could make it, the men set off through the woods. Briars tore at both men’s arms and legs as they struggled to follow the path. Half an hour later, Henry saw vultures circling through a break in the trees. They made for the spot and found the remains of Henry’s mule. There was no sign of the cats and nothing to be done, so they left the carcass to the vultures.

Another hour of searching turned up the other two horses grazing in a meadow. They had stayed together during the night. Billy D’s mare had a long scratch on her flank but otherwise they appeared unharmed.

“Sorry about your mule, Henry.” Billy D said after they caught the two horses.

Henry shrugged. “Just bad luck is all. I hate to lose the mule, but better it than me.” He paused and shaded his eyes with his hand as he considered the sun’s position. “It’s about mid-morning, if we head east from here, we can’t miss the trail.”

Billy D nodded agreement. “That’s what I figure too, we should come out somewhere south of last night’s camp. We can head north, collect our gear and be on the trail again by lunch time. Speaking of lunch, how long do you think before them cats are hungry again?”

Henry shook his head, “Who knows, but we best be out of the area before it happens. We don’t have any more mule and they might not be in the mood for horse.”

The two men started leading their horses east. They had to avoid the densest foliage and steepest grades for the sake of the horses. They rounded a small hill and entered a stony meadow. Both men were focused on looking for landmarks which would indicate the trail. As they approached the center of the clearing, a wave of dizziness struck Henry like a physical blow forcing his head down and his knees to shake.

“Billy D?” Henry managed to croak out. He turned to look and movement of his head increased the dizziness. His stomach roiled in rebellion. Billy D was lying on his side in front of his horse. Slowly, Henry sank to his knees in the tall grass. Panic rose in Henry’s mind, they were helpless and in the open. A kitten with delusions of grandeur could take them both in their current state.

Henry began to feel warmth from the breast pocket where he kept the Malifaux medallion which had caused so much trouble back in Sharp Pass. With shaking hands, he unbuttoned the pocket and withdrew the gold hoop. While it had shifted and lit up that night two weeks ago, it was positively vibrating now. Different incomprehensible letter patterns flashed upon its polished surface. Was this the source of the dizziness? No, he felt less dizzy with it in his hand. He focused his concentration on the medallion and felt the dizziness slightly ease its grip.

Struggling back to his feet, Henry still felt weak and disoriented, but no longer completely helpless. He staggered back to where Billy D lay. The man was still breathing but his eyes were tightly closed. The horses stood idle, apparently unaffected by whatever was attacking the men. Henry slowly bent down and hoisted Billy D onto his shoulders. He wobbled over to Billy D’s horse and flopped the man across the horse’s bare back causing the bowler hat to pop off the unconscious man and fall to the ground. The medallion never left Henry’s hand. He clung to it like a life preserver as he led Billy D’s horse to where he could grab his own horse’s bridle.

A glance around showed the two men and horses were roughly in the middle of the clearing. It was just a far to go forward, back, left or right, so Henry began to slowly plod forward. His head felt heavy on his neck, continually pressed down toward the ground. Each step was an effort. He stared at the ground a yard in front of his booted feet. Something white enter Henry’s field of vision. With effort he focused on a pile of bleached bones. Really, really old, Henry thought, and a detached part of his mind wondered who it was and what had brought him here. A few steps later, he noticed one of the many stones of the field. While it appeared rough, it was in truth covered with intricate, but heavily worn inscriptions.

Henry looked back to check the horses and noted with alarm that the path of trodden grass was not a straight line. He was walking in a curve to his right. If he continued as he started, he would end up walking in a circle and never leaving the clearing. Never leaving the clearing… a wave of despair dropped Henry to his knees.

He remained on his knees, his mouth foul from rising stomach bile. His horse stepped forward and blew hot horse breath and spittle on the back of his head. She seemed to be saying, “I don’t mind you dying here, but at least let go of my bridle so I can graze properly.” Something in Henry’s mind snapped, and he suddenly found the situation amusing, possibly even funny. Here he was in the wilderness of Malifaux, with a man he barely knew, less than 30 yards to safety, and he was on his knees. He hacked a couple of times trying to moisten his mouth and then managed to rasp to the silent stones around him, “If you are going to screw me, you have to at least kiss me first.”

Henry struggled to his feet. The world tried to slip out from under him to the left, then to the right but he steadied himself and remained standing. There was a holly bush at the edge of the clearing, its green leaves shining in the sun. He focused on the holly. One step closer to the holly, he rocked back and forth but remained upright. He took another step, then another. The holly began to grow in his field of vision. At last he could almost reach out and touch the bush. The last step was like moving from deep water to dry land. The dizziness left as rapidly as it had come leaving only a headache and a queasy stomach.

Billy D slipped off his horse, stood on shaky feet and looked about. “What in Dante’s name happened? I was ok then just keeled over.”

Henry shook his head, “I don’t rightly know. But you see them stones, they have engravings all over them. I figure this is some sort of temple… or graveyard. Either way, it don’t like visitors.”

Billy D considered for a moment and scratched idly at his head. His eyes darted up and his hand felt for the hat that wasn’t there. He looked around on the ground for a moment before asking, “My hat?”

Henry pointed out to the center of the clearing.

“Daaamn,” said Billy D, “Guess it’s time for a new hat.”

Edited February 27, 2012 by IronChief

[Chucklemonkey]

A long time since part 1 :-)

I enjoyed it and look forward to reading more. (Although in my head Billy D is now just Billy)

[IronChief]

A long time since part 1 :-)

No doubt! I wrote part one and most of part two when we only had the original rule book. I liked the "Wyrd Wild West" aspect of the game. The second book came out and the 'canon' headed in a different direction, less mano on mano it seemed to me. So I put down my proverbial quill. Recently I was reviewing some old files and came across the unfinished part two. I decided to finish it off and post it. Even if the main storyline is now about gods and devils, there is still room for an old cowboy or two hiding out in the badlands. *wink*