Once they were out in the sun, the marshal took the lead and pointed at a nearby sign. It read ‘General Goods’ in plain lettering and hung askew in relation to the boardwalk. The building itself was simple, but in good repair aside from a broken window in the doorframe. An older man was working on that as they approached, using a hammer and chisel to clear the window frame while scowling at the broken glass.
“Mornin!” he grumped as they approached. “Don’t mind the glass, some ruffian broke in last night and robbed from me.” Holding the door open for them as they approached, he moved towards a broom nearby and began sweeping at the shards of glass scattered about his floor. “Only took cash though, thankfully. Least valuable thing in the shop.”
Kitty and Mitchel went inside, muttering their own ‘good mornings’, with Mitchel removing his hat to hold and tap his fingers against as he walked the shelves. Not that there were many to walk, the place was cozy.
Two triangular wooden shelf racks graced the center of the room, sporting varied sundries. The first held grocery items; canned food, packaged sweets, and pouches of tobacco, with large sacks of sugar, flour, and coffee on the floor tucked under the shelves. The second was filled with minor tools and accompaniments; ropes, lanterns, matches, packages of nails, hammers, hand saws, etc. A rack against the far wall contained simple clothing next to what looked to be a changing area behind a long curtain, and firearms were in place against the wall behind the counter.
The man that had greeted them thumped around behind the counter, one of his legs moving stiffly as he went and making a hollow sound on the floor. Kitty looked him over as he stared at her from the counter. He was older, with a full salt and pepper beard and long grey hair to match. His blue eyes bored through her, watching her movements as she took in his store.
“Captain Levi. This here is Kit, our new deputy. Came in on the train just now.” Mitchel introduced her as she stepped up to the counter.
“Call me Cap’n, everyone does.” He offered her a weathered hand over the counter.
She grabbed and shook it. “Good to meet you, Captain. I’ve got some supplies to gather for a manhunt.”
“Well you come to the right place then. Weapons and ammunition behind the counter. I suggest you get your necessaries first, then come see me ‘bout the rest.” With that, he abandoned them, gathering up some boards and tools for his window and heading towards it.
Kitty wasted no time, grabbing a pair of jeans, a clean rust colored shirt, a pair of boots, and a gun belt, setting them on the counter before she moved towards the sundries. A length of rope, a simple oil lantern, several flasks of lantern oil, a few boxes of matches, a large canteen, a clean linen sheet, a simple sewing kit, and a few sheets of jerky were added to the pile on the counter in short order. Fishing her new revolver out of her satchel, Kitty holstered it in the gun belt and nodded at the fit. She turned and faced the door, leaning on the counter as she waited for the Captain to look back at her. When he did, she gave him a single nod, and he trundled over back behind the counter.
He looked at her pile on the counter, sniffed deeply once and produced a small set of spectacles. “Just for reading and numbers, mind. My aim is still sharp as hawk toes,” Captain Levi insisted. He spoke while glowering over his spectacles at them. Mitchel raised his hands and nodded in agreement, and Kitty shrugged and nodded. His ego seemingly satisfied, Captain Levi passed his hand over the gathered items and ran a tally on a dirty scrap of paper he produced from the register. “Right. Nine dollars and seventy cents for the lot. Add in a box of shells for that Remington?”
When she gave him another single nod, he set a box on the counter and added it to his tally. “That puts you at ten even.”
Kitty was no longer paying attention, her gaze on the firearms hanging from the wall behind him. Several lever action long guns and muzzle loaders sat on pegs up there, but it was the double barrel shotgun that caught her eye. Dusky black steel barrels were set into a gorgeous walnut wood stock, reddish tinted and polished enough to glint the sun into her eyes. The black iron triggers and hammers were inlaid with filigree, one silver and one gold, and a full body wolf was carved into the stock, against an evening forest backdrop in delicate detail.
“How much for the double barrel?” Kitty asked. She had to resist drooling as she spoke.
“Oh the pretty one? Can’t let her go for less than three hundred, I’m ‘fraid,” Captain Levi answered. He looked over his spectacles at her rather severely, before snapping his fingers, suddenly remembering something. “I’ve got something in the back for you, sit tight a couple minutes.”
Kitty nodded at him again, leaning on the counter while he fished out a key from his pocket and moved to a door around the side of the counter. Once it was unlocked, he shoved at it and cursed under his breath when a series of wooden items clattered to the floor behind it. After a few moments of rummaging noises and muttered curses from the back room, he emerged holding a shotgun and proudly set it on the counter in front of Kitty.
Its stock was sickly looking, mostly pale yellow with a hint of what used to be brown. A small swatch of baling wire held the stock in place beneath rusted barrels, both of which were soot black at both ends and a dull speckled iron in the middle. One of the triggers looked like green old bronze, and the other one was simply a nail that had been pounded in place and then curved to vaguely resemble a trigger. At least the leather strap was solid, intact with no rot or tears. Kitty looked at the shotgun on the counter, and then back up at the shotgun on the wall. Finally, she looked at the Captain and narrowed her eyes.
“Seven dollars, and I’ll throw in a box of shells,” the shopkeeper told her. He didn’t flinch.
Kitty held his gaze for a long moment, before nodding her head and reaching for the shotgun. She stopped with her hand over the stock. “If this thing gives me splinters, you and I will be having words, Captain.”
He set a box of shotgun shells on the counter, putting a hand on the shotgun to stop her from taking it. “I do not sell anything that does not operate properly. It may be old, but that gun is a workhorse. It won’t let you down.”
Taking a moment, Kitty thought it through and nodded. “I apologize for the implication. And I’ll be back for that beauty you have up there, so keep her handy for me.”
“Fair enough deputy. Fair enough,” Captain Levi said. He let go of the shotgun, after shoving it slightly her way. “You have a blade?”
“Not yet. What have you got available for three dollars or less?” She hefted the old rusted shotgun and swung the barrels open, nodding in approval at the smooth action.
The Captain pulled a small chest from under the counter and opened it, revealing a felt lined interior that housed a dozen knives, all held in place with a thin strip of leather. “The Bowie is four, so that’s out. Let’s see here . . . the little Barlow there I could let go for a dollar.” He lifted a small folding knife with a tear drop shaped wood handle and set it on the counter. “Two for the skinner. Good blade, I traded for it a while back, used it myself before I got too old for hunting.”
Kitty nodded respectfully, before pointing to a metal handled knife still in its ornate scabbard, strapped to the underside of the lid. “Is that a cavalry dagger?”
Captain Levi hurriedly pulled the knife from its place and set it gently on the counter behind the trunk. “Not for sale.”
“Understood. I’ll take the skinner and the Barlow and leave you with twenty dollars and my thanks,” Kitty said.
She swept both blades off the counter at his nod, before gathering up her purchases and heading toward a small booth made from curtains in the corner. She got dressed, strapped the gun belt in place, and loaded the rest of her purchases into her satchel. The skinning knife’s scabbard attached to her belt, right next to her Remington, and the little folding Barlow knife she tucked into her boot. As she stepped out of the dressing booth, she slid a shell into place in her gun belt and was pleased to see the rest of the leather loops fill on their own. A single box of .45 colt seemed to be exactly enough to fill her belt, so she left the small wooden box on the counter for the Captain to use again. She nodded to him as she moved to leave, and he returned the gesture, a grave expression on his face.
“Thank you, for your custom, ma’am. I hope you return safely,” Captain Levi said.
She looked back to watch as he folded his spectacles and tucked them away safely in their pocket once more. “Me too, Captain,” Kitty replied. She turned and left the shop, with Mitchel close behind her.
“Surprised you didn’t buy a hat, heat like this.” He struck a match against the bottom of his boot, raising it to a thin rolled cigarette.
“Didn’t think to. Sort that out later, what I really need now is a horse.” Kitty shaded her eyes with a hand, looking up and down the dusty street. “For free.”
“Sheriff’ll loan you one if you’re going out on a bounty. I’d gather a posse if I were you though,” Mitchel said.
“Sounds fair to me. Thanks for everything Mitchel, I’ll see you around.” Kitty turned to leave, but the marshal fell into step beside her. When she turned to stare at him, he shrugged.
“Prisoner transport is just one part of what we do at the marshals, figured I’d help you out . . . if you’ll have me o’course.” He touched the brim of his hat.
“Why not?” Kitty turned and walked down the boardwalk towards the saloon, Mitchel in tow. When she entered through the batwing doors, every soul in the building stopped what they were doing and looked up at her. All three of them. The bartender was seated behind the bar on a repurposed stool, rolling cigarettes. He had two of them complete and was struggling with a third, which fell apart onto the bar as he stared at Kitty.
A prostitute was seated on the stairs to the upper level, and she perked up a bit when the doors opened but returned to her slump with a sigh when she saw Kitty. At a table in the back corner was seated a single drunk, eyes glistening with tears as he fumbled at the half empty bottle in front of himself. When he saw the man at the table, Mitchel sidled past Kitty and went to him, sitting down across from him and taking the bottle away.
“Earl, you'll drink yourself to death at this rate.” The marshal tried to reason with the drunk.
“So what?!” Earl took a languid swipe at the bottle, being easily dodged by the sober marshal. “Gimme my bottle back!”
“Stop this Earl, it won’t bring them back. You think Dorothy would have wanted to see you like this? Or your boy?” Mitchel tried to speak kindly but was becoming distraught anyway. “This town needs you. We can’t operate without a stable master.”
Earl stopped his lunge for the bottle and stared hard at the marshal. “What’s it matter anymore? They’re cinders out there in those fuckin’ coffins. Fuck the horses! Let em all run for all I care.”
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Kitty decided to leave Mitchel to his work, heading over to the bar instead. “Hey. Any water around here? I need my canteen filled.”
The bartender had gone back to his rolling and glanced at her with a small scowl. “Pump’s out back, help yourself.”
She stared at him. “How chivalrous. You make all your customers fetch their own drinks?”
He sighed, deeply. Then he set down his rolling papers and tobacco pouch, walked over to take her canteen, and headed for the back door.
“I also need some empty bottles, please. Just whatever you’ll be throwing out later.” She smiled at him when he stopped with a hand on the door to glare back at her. He didn’t respond, simply leaving the building and letting the creaky door slam behind him.
She got to work, pulling the clean linen sheet out of her satchel and unsheathing the skinning knife she had bought. Once she had the cloth spread across the bar, she used her skinning knife to slice small strips from it, laying them out beside herself. Next to each strip she set a single flask of oil and a strip of sandpaper from the matchboxes, along with three matches. The bale of farm wire sat in front of her, next to the bundles of items.
The bartender returned then, a small crate filled with empty bottles under one arm, and her canteen gripped under the other. He stopped and glared at her workspace on the bar, before walking over to her and setting both items down on the other side of the mess she had created.
Kitty rewarded him with a smile. “Thanks!”
She rifled through the crate of empty bottles and chose an assortment, setting them down next to each pile of cloth and matches, before shoving the box off out of the way. Everything set up the way she wanted it; she began making her advanced fire bottles. Once each one was complete, it was bundled into her satchel, along with a few spare empty bottles and the rest of her gear.
Mitchel had been trying to talk to Earl in the corner, with very little luck. He ordered a pot of black coffee to the table anyway and sat trying to convince Earl to drink some of it.
“Look Earl, we’re about to head out trackin’ that evil man, the one who burnt the church down. Our new deputy’ll help bring this town back to normal. Back to a peaceful life. Hope you’re around to see it.” Mitchel sighed as he stood, taking the bottle of whiskey with him back to the bar. Earl stared at the cup of steaming black coffee in front of him, before looking at Kitty.
“His wife and son were in the church, but he had to help reshod a horse and missed the evening service. Sick bastard nailed the doors shut and lit fires all around the building. Whole place went up, everyone inside died,” Mitchel told her. He shook his head and took a slug from the bottle. “Whole town’s been waiting for justice, but the sheriff is overwhelmed, and the marshals can’t help much. Our men are overworked, and somethings been killing them en masse since these bad times started.”
“I think I may know what’s causin’ all that,” Kitty replied. “We can talk more once we get back from this hunt. One thing at a time.” Kitty took a quick drink from her canteen before shoving it into her satchel and standing up. She adjusted the old shotgun at her back and moved to the door, Mitchel in tow. They moved across the street, heading down a few doors to the sheriff’s office again, where Kitty pulled a bounty off the overloaded board out front and sat down to read it while Mitchel went inside.
It showed a rough sketch of a man’s face, which matched what she had seen of the firebug the other night. Wispy hair, thin features, sunken eyes. The bounty offered had jumped again, now just shy of four thousand dollars for his capture, half of that if he was brought back dead. Kitty gave it a moment of thought and decided dead was preferable.
At that thought she stopped and scowled at the paper. Alive was what she should do. With a sigh, she folded up the bounty poster and slipped it into her journal. As she stood to enter the sheriff’s office, a rider stormed into town at a full gallop. People moved slightly to avoid him, but none of them seemed upset by his sudden arrival, and none of them even looked as he slid to a stop in front of Kitty and dismounted.
“Pony Express for Kit!” The young man was covered in trail dust that puffed from his clothing as he swept off his hat and held out a hand with a letter in it to her.
“Thanks. Please wait for a reply.” Kitty unfolded the letter.
“Miss Kitty! I’m so excited to see you playing this beta, please give me your location so we can meet up. P.S. I’m still handy with a rifle.” The letter was unsigned.
She rolled her eyes and motioned to the rider. “What’s this town called?”
“Delusion, ma’am.”
“Dictate a reply for me?” When he nodded and produced a charcoal pencil, she continued. ‘Great to hear from you Nels, I’m currently working out of Delusion. Head over, I’d love to team up, but fair warning, we’re playing the good guys this time. Check in with the sheriff and ask for Kit.’ When she was finished, the rider folded up her note and secured his hat back on his head. He slid a finger along the rim and nodded at her before leaping into his saddle and wheeling the horse around and leaving town at a gallop. Mitchel exited the office then, squinting slightly as he tried to identify the rider.
“Pony Express?” the marshal asked. He produced another cigarette.
“Yep.” Kitty said.
“Great company, those riders are plenty tough too. Considered it myself at one point.” He grumbled around his cigarette, cupping a struck match in his palms to light it.
Kitty nodded absently at the man. When he walked down the steps into the road, she rose and followed him. They chatted amicably as they moved towards the stables, with Mitchel doing most of the talking. She nodded along and added the occasional ‘yup’ just to keep him happy. Earl was at the stables, saddling up a horse as they arrived.
He yelped as the buckle pinched his thumb, making the horse nicker and look back at him briefly. “Goldam hellfire that hurts!” Earl hopped away, sucking at the tip of his thumb.
“He’s not coming with,” Kitty said. She remained deadpan and moved toward one of the horses already prepared for them.
“What’d she say?!” Earl shouted it at Mitchel, ignoring Kitty as she swung easily into the saddle.
“Hold on Earl, let me talk to her.” Mitchel held out a hand at the man, turning to face Kitty. “Are you sure about that deputy? I think we could use the help, and Earl can be relied on.”
“He’s compromised,” Kitty replied. She stopped at Mitchel’s confused expression. “He’s in no state, he’ll give us away or kill our bounty for revenge.”
“The hell she sayin’ about me?!” Earl walked closer, sweating and red faced from drink.
“I’m sayin’ that we can’t trust you. You’re drunk and mad with grief. It’s no insult, but you need to sit this out,” Kitty told the man. She fixed him with a withering stare.
“Hell with you! I got a right to vengeance!” Earl yelled. His face screwed up in anger as he staggered slightly, gripping the nearby hitching rail for stability. He seemed to have a moment of realization at that, pulling up his gun belt and raising his chin at Kitty. “I’ll sober on the trail.”
Her hand twitched as she stared at the belligerent man. When she glanced over at Mitchel, already in his saddle, the marshal simply shrugged. “Earl.” She began slowly, attempting to keep the annoyance out of her voice. “Your word Earl. You will not kill this man.”
He scowled. “I can’t make that promise miss. He took those most important to me, I got a right to vengeance.”
She dismounted in a swirl of dust, approaching the man and backhanding him once, hard. He pinwheeled to the dirt and rolled over to stare up at her, disbelief in his eyes. When she spoke again, her patience was spent. “The only right you have now is to keep breathin.’ You think your claim to vengeance outweighs anyone else’s? That man will hang, and all of Delusion will get justice. I don’t ride with selfish drunkards. You can stay your sorry ass in that dirt.”
As she was remounting, she heard him struggle to stand. When she turned back, Earl was facing her, hat in hand. “I apologize ma’am. My word given. I will not kill this man unless he gives me no other choice.”
She raised an eyebrow at the stable hand, letting him stew a moment before she nodded at him. “All I can ask.”
He struggled a bit but got himself mounted. The three of them left town, following in Kitty’s wake as she brought her horse to a canter. Soon they were following her backtrail from the night before, which she kept to by using her mostly blacked out map. It was an easy trail to follow, she simply kept moving in a straight line, following a dirt trail beside the train tracks. They reached the bizarre reptile ambush point within an hour, and Kitty narrowed her eyes to see that all of the carcasses had been skinned in her absence. Gone were the shapeless lumps of generic ‘meat’ from Brescia Online, these were fully realized carcasses, and Kitty’s stomach turned at the sight. Her horse shied at the blood and charred scrub, so she let it walk in a wider circle around the mess. Neither of the men in her posse said a word, simply following where she led.
The sun crept high overhead, and she started to sweat through her shirt, pausing to appreciate the level of depth. Brescia and The Life never had sweating. Focusing, she brought up her HUD and was dismayed to find a debuff seated neatly above her water bar. It showed wavering lines rising from a bald head with heat distortion shimmering them as they moved. She took a swig from her canteen to top off the slowly shrinking thirst bar and made a mental note to buy a hat, before continuing on their path. As she focused on the trail again, she noticed a faint glow coming from a small flowering shrub.
The plant was low to the ground, came up to about knee level, and was covered in little yellow puffs surrounded by tiny white petals, lifted from the ground on leafy green stalks. Like everything around it, the plant was sparse, adapted to life in harsh environs. She called a halt and dismounted, walking over to the shrub while digging out her book of herbs. As she approached, it flopped open in her hand, revealing a page with an illustration. It looked remarkably similar to the plant in front of her, and Kitty smiled as she recognized a game mechanic in hiding.
Matricaria chamomilla. (Chamomile)
Chamomile is a wonderfully versatile herb. It excels at aiding digestive troubles and can send you off to a most restful sleep when brewed into a tea. When burned as incense, a sense of general relaxation is oft reported. When gathering, the flowering buds are of utmost importance. Seeds and stem have some value as well but remain secondary. This herb has no detrimental effects, and potency increases with volume.
Her head cocked to the side, she re-read the excerpt. Then with a shrug, she gripped the shrub at its base and hauled on it, tearing it root and stem from the hardpack. She folded the flowers down into the bulk of the greenery in her hand and then wrapped the whole bundle with a strip of clean cloth, tucking it away into her satchel. A new pocket revealed itself to accept the bundle of chamomile.
From that point on, she was careful to watch for more glimmering herbs, and kept her HUD active most of the trip. They passed bleached bones while approaching a stubby railroad bridge over a gully, and Kitty continued to take sips from her canteen to manage her annoying thirst bar. The game really made her feel thirsty too, she continued to be dazzled by the sheer level of immersion. If she stopped paying attention, she could really buy being in a desert with a Wild West marshal and a mostly drunk stable hand. If she stopped paying attention.
The gully was broad and shallow, rimmed by cacti and dry looking scrub on either side. Kitty had been on the lookout for more herbs to gather, but her HUD hadn’t picked up much until they arrived at the gully. Then both sides of it seemed to sparkle, all along the rims stretching from the horizon in one direction to the black void in the other. She called a halt and dismounted to inspect the strange little plants that were glowing in her hub, fetching her herb book again. They looked vaguely like a tiny button-shaped cactus without any needles. When the book fell open this time, she smiled in recognition of the plant’s name.
Lophophora williamsii. (Peyote)
An unusually thirsty variety of cactus plant, Peyote is typically found in areas of desert that contain unusual amounts of water or limestone. As a topical unguent, Peyote is known to sooth burns, ease the ache of old joints, and aid in recovery of small wounds. Ingested in tea, or chewed, it can produce powerful visions and is considered by some natives to be the gateway to the magic of the soul. To harvest, use a small knife and remove the button top of the plant at or slightly above the dirt line, leaving green visible in your blade’s wake.
With a toothy grin, Kitty unfolded her small pocket knife and went to work. After a few minutes, Mitchel and Earl looked antsy, so she turned to face them, shielding her eyes from the baking sun with a raised hand.
“Sorry boys, I’m going to be a few with this,” Kitty announced. “Marshal, why don’t you scout ahead for us. We’re looking for a nice bald ridge with a small outcropping of stone on top. When you sight that, head back, shouldn’t be far now.” She paused, turning to face Earl. “Earl, I’m hopin’ a man I sent for will be close, can you watch our backtrail?” Then to herself while squatting back down. “Never thought I’d become a plant nerd. Super fun though.”
Earl nodded and turned his horse around, settling in the middle of the dirt path they had been following and leaning forward over his saddle horn. Mitchel walked his horse in the other direction and produced a pair of field glasses from his saddlebags, looking back at Kitty for guidance.
“Yeah, straight ahead east. The rise should be . . .” She paused to glance at her map. “Just to the north if you head in a straight line east from here. Once you see it or any signs of people, just come straight back.” The man tipped his hat and wheeled his horse around, leaving the gully with a snap of his reins.
That seen to, she began harvesting as much of the peyote as she could. The little button tops went into her satchel easily, but within a few minutes she noticed that her ‘herbs’ section was no longer simply absorbing them, and she could see them piling up in the bottom of the bag. After twenty minutes of careful harvesting, her satchel wouldn’t take any more of the small cacti. When she attempted to add more to the bag, they simply tumbled out of the top and landed in the dirt, no matter how carefully she tried to stack or cram them into place. Standing and dusting her hands on her thighs, Kitty climbed the ridge behind Earl just in time for him to shout over his shoulder directly into her face.
