- 7 - Emmett Miller

Dust blew through the town ahead of 5 riders and 7 horses. People stared.

“Should have left the spares outside of town.” Emmett said. “We are drawing attention.”

“They need water. And we can trade in a few for fresh ones.” Mari said.

If Hawk had an opinion, he didn’t voice it.

Lottie urged her horse ahead to catch up with her brother.

“Jonathan, do you see? They have a Telegraph Office.” Lottie said. “With a Telegraph, we could-”

“Hush Lottie.” He said.

“And their church is closed.” She whispered. “How will I consolidate my discovery?”

“Lottie please, not in the street for everyone to hear.” Jonathan whispered back. “We will be a target enough with two of these crates on our backs.”

“You both are too loud.” Emmett said nodding his hat to an old woman on her porch.

They passed the dilapidated church and into the town proper. The buildings on main street had been white washed recently. The wash had worn off the ones they had passed already. All of them built out of cheap wood and local stone.

The people who built these homes were doing the best they could. Their hopes and dreams are built into the floors, the roofs. Their sons served, some of these fathers too. Any one of them could have been in my platoon.

They tied off their horses at the general store. Jonathan jumped down to grab the reigns of their two horses carrying canvas covered loot crates. The group had stored them in empty grundys, large oak water barrels. Nobody came out to greet them.

“Welcome to Skuduggery?” Jonathan read on a posted sign. “You think that’s a Surname?”

“Lets be quick here.” Emmett said.

“Couldn’t we spend the night? I’d send a message to Pandect University about our… progress.” Lottie said discretely.

“And a clean bed and a bath would be worth the coin.” Mari said.

Hawk nodded and pulled out the Cartridge Gin. He looked to Emmett and shrugged.

“Do we need to vote?” Emmett said and pulled his hat down over his eyes.

I don’t trust this town. It feels hungry, lean.

“Mari, find us some rooms. Get on the telegraph and find us a buyer in Jamestown. Hawk and I will reload.” Emmett said. “Jonathan despite my better judgment you stay with the horses.”

“Lottie. Keep your eye on Jonathan. I don’t want to be run out of town before we can sleep in our rooms.” Mari said.

“It was one time!” Jonathan said.

“It was twice.” Lottie said.

“The second time wasn’t my fault.” Jonathan pouted as he helped his sister off her horse.

Emmett looked south to the sea. Their shoreline was shallow. The water was enclosed marshland. The smell of the water reached him on the breeze.

Too shallow for anything but small boats. They farm salt and oysters here.

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As his crew went about their business Emmett rode his horse slowly through town looking at the people. He passed the sheriffs office, the door was open.

No bars on their windows. Jail large enough to fit 4 iron cells. No sign of the sheriff or any deputies.

He passed the saloon and saw four soft men at the bar, three with badges on.

No name on the saloon. It's the only one in town. There’s the sheriff and his men.

Emmett nodded his hat to them. They nodded back.

He circled back and gave Jonathan a look, he was leaning against the post of the general store, up on the boardwalk out of the sun playing with his cards. Lottie was inside the general store haggling with the storekeeper.

“Aye Captain.” Jonathan said with a weak salute.

Emmett pointed two of fingers at his eyes and traced his line of sight to the rouge in the universal “I’m watching you” gesture before riding on.

The town’s gunsmith had packed up and left. The Springfield shop was closed, the franchise left a vending machine as a last ditch effort to make some sales. It whirred to life as Emmett rode by. Flipsign advertising the exchange rate for spent shells. It could pay out in cash or cartridges.

Not much business in cartridges out here. That’s why we have the gin.

-

Emmett caught up with Hawk near the shore. The sniper had stopped and tied off his horse on some trees. Emmett did the same and helped lift the gin, taking the heavier end.

Down on the shore, two old timers were sitting on a wooden deck built above the tide line. It looked out over the water at ten posts strung up with nets. They were taking turns sipping form a clay jug as large as Emmett's head.

“Look how big that lad is, he could buck an ox off his back.” One said.

“Hey what’s that contraption you two have there. Did you steal it?” One old guy asked.

“Sorry to bother you old timers! Mind if we borrow your beach? We can walk down a ways.” Emmett said with his best smile.

“Looking is free lad!” The old timer laughed. He passed the jug to his friend.

“That may be a portable gin. Ain’t it?” The other old timer asked. “Why it’s a quarter the size of the one I worked in the war!”

Emmett nodded and Hawk set it down on a steel plate on the sand. They sorted out their spent cartridges and slotted them into the hopper on the side.

“Well would you look at that. I bet you right! Who thinks these things up?” The first old man said. He took a deep pull on the jug and passed it to the other old man.

“Was the dwarves I reckon! They have all sorts of secrets buried out there under the ground.” Old timer number 2 said.

“Almost, this here is the idea from a big thinking machine. The Cramer one, out in New Amsterdam came up with it.” Emmett said “It pulls metal out of the ground and air somehow.”

“Don’t use it near my oyster farm! It’ll make them grow smaller!” said the old timer.

“Nonsense.” Said the other old timer. “Don’t pay him no mind. His oysters always been small.”

“Screw you Guss!” He said back leisurely. “You should get over there and crank that gin for them. It might shrink y’er saggy balls for you!” He cackled and Guss gave him a rude gesture, twisting the fingers on his hands into something that neither Emmett nor Hawk recognized.

“Bah, Scott, you old fart! Wouldn’t know tits from toads.”Gus said while Scott continued laughing. “You fellas ain’t got anything to worry about. I turned a back breaker of a gin in the war until I threw out my back!”

“I’ve used this little gin for over 15 years, no side effects yet. More harm done from the bullets it reloads than anything else.” Emmett said.

Hawk carried the gin farther down the beach and started cranking it. It gave off a faint hum as the inner servos wound up. The antennas on top looped and coiled around themselves. It was in need of maintenance and some clean grease.

The old thing is likely to over heat if we put it off too much longer. We will be able to afford ten new ones after this haul, but repairs for an old friend will be a welcome expense.

“Well he will be at that a while. What are you two fellas out here for? Watching for the sea gods to return?” Emmett asked.

“Ha! Poseidon can come whet my whistle if he could get out of his barnacle encrusted sea bed for a minute.” Guss said. “I’m out here to make sure Scott don’t steal my oysters.”

“Liar! I’m out here making sure you stay honest and don’t steal my oysters.” Scott said. He took a swig of the jug and passed it back.

“Are they Gulf Blues? Or freshwater?” Emmett asked.

I’d buy some butter oysters but this water is too brackish for large oysters.

“You some kind of government paid fish and game man?” Scott asked skeptically. “You got to tell us if you work for the territory, that’s entrapment.”

“They’s blues. Not for eating.” Gus’s said. “Waters too salty for anything so fine eating. We grow these for blue dye. Or we did until the war ended. No point stopping now is there.”

Finding a new way to live is hard. The west demands you be hard.

“There’s plenty else to do with your time.” Emmett said.

“Like go shoot people?” Scott asked, he glared at Hawk turning the gin.

He's got a point there.

“Americas favorite pastime.” Guss said sardonically.

“You could travel.” Emmet said.

“Nope, can’t ride with a bum back.” Said Scott.

“How about you learn an instrument?” Emmett said.

“I haven’t got the ear for music.” Scott said.

“He’s an awful singer.” Gus said.

Well damn, might as well get drunk and watch oysters grow. Not a bad way to go soft.

“Do young folks play snooker?” Gus asked.

“There’s a table over at Klyde’s. I’d pay you a fist full of dollars if you could beat me.” Scott said.

Lottie better hold Jonathan’s purse.

Hawk returned with the gin and passed Emmett 11 of his smaller .38 caliber rounds. Hawk kept the three .303s for himself. There were 5 Springfield cartridges that Mari had used. Jonathan’s Springfield was the same model but he hadn’t shot it since the war.

Emmett looped his cartridges in his belts and thanked Hawk. Hawk nodded to the old men and left with the gin.

“Well gents, we may see you tonight. If you still want the wager I have a friend that you should meet.” Emmett said.

“Well met fella, you can’t miss it, our wagon’ll be out front an hour before dark any day of the week.” Said Gus.

“Every day of the week.” Scott added. His cackling turned into a cough as Emmett followed Hawk back towards town.