The Harc’otti would be unlikely to return anytime soon, not after taking that many losses. And the explosion would tell any of their surviving warriors that their infiltration had been successful. That didn’t mean they would never be back. With this unknown group backing them, John couldn’t say what they might do next.

The Harc’otti’s willingness to risk the lives of a large number of their fighters just to destroy a few broken automata suits was a shock. Considering what Travis had found inside the suits, maybe not. It made him wonder if the Harc’otti messed up. The explosives were clearly designed to remove any evidence, but Travis had already managed to get into one of them before they attacked.

He would bet his revolvers that if they returned to that valley where they saved those workers, the suits they hadn’t had time to cart off would be gone. He needed to have a word with Travis.

John found the man cursing as he picked up small chunks of metal in his yard and dumped them into a wheelbarrow. “Anything worth saving?” he asked as he walked up.

The aging artificer grunted before straightening his back. “Not a damn bit. However, I can melt the metal down. Lotta good that does,” he grumbled out the last part.

Before asking his next question, John looked around to make sure no one else was around. “What about what I gave you before the attack?”

“You mean the–,” John clamped his hand over the man’s mouth earning a look of surprise from the artificer.

“Just nod if you still have it.”

Travis nodded.

John removed his hands from the man.

“You think they were after it?” the artificer asked.

“No. I think they didn’t want us to learn how these suits operate. Do me a favor and don’t mention it to anyone, and I mean anyone. If they did this to keep this knowledge secret, who knows what else they might do?”

As John spoke, he saw the understanding dawn in the old man’s eyes. “I- I understand.”

He decided to change the topic. “It looks like the walker survived. That’s something at least.”

It took a moment for the artificer to switch gears, his mind still spinning on the revelation John had dumped on his lap, but he soon snorted. “Not as well as you might think. Go over and take a look.”

John accepted the invitation and walked over to the weird bipedal machine. From a distance, it looked fine, but as he got closer, he began to see large gouges, and even small bits of metal sticking from the side of the wooden platform.

It was practically peppered with the stuff, and even some of the metal of the legs looked scuffed up. Worst off were the pipes and the metal box that housed the controls. Most of the pipes sported at least a few dents. They would likely need to be replaced. But the control box took the worst of the damage. It looked like that fancy cheese Daniel Novarez liked so much. The one with all the holes in it.

John had never understood why anyone would like cheese that looked like mice had gone at it.

The damage to the walker was going to take time to fix, which limited John’s options. He had planned on taking it through that thick forest to find out where this group backing the Harc’otti had gone off to. But with the attack and now the damage to their only means of travel, he couldn’t afford to leave the town to track down Jacob’s group.

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While he loathed leaving these people out there to do as they pleased, there wasn’t much he could do about it at the moment.

It was time he faced facts and dealt with the things he had been putting off. There were issues in the town that needed to be addressed before they started festering and causing even more problems.

Chief among those was the money situation.

He hadn’t addressed it yet, because he had no idea how to fix it. He still didn’t know how if he was honest. John had hoped to recover the stolen gold when he confronted Jacob’s group but that wasn’t an option anymore. The people would find out sooner or later that the Terminus Mining notes were worthless pieces of paper. Well… more worthless than it already was. At least it used to have some value in Ember Creek. Now it wasn’t even worth using to wipe with.

As he was pondering the issue, he recalled the bag he had taken from the bandit leader. Diamonds were at least worth something. Although he didn’t have nearly enough to cover for the entire town, but it was a start.

That was one problem partially solved. His other problem was the foreman or lack thereof. Someone trustworthy would need to cover for the late Mr. Thumb until he could report the man’s murder to Novarez and get a replacement sent out.

He should also report everything else that was going on, but he didn’t need Daniel sending more goons out here. If his boss had his way, he would declare martial law in Ember Creek. The only reason he hadn’t already is that hiring mercenaries was expensive. And John was the cheaper option. Technically John was free since he got paid by Bartem Novarez. Leave it to Daniel to find the cheapest option to solve his problem.

If he could keep the town from exploding into violence or rioting until the next train arrived, he was probably set. John was ill-equipped for management. He was more a man of action. This was why he did not look forward to the next few weeks. It was going to be a lot of running around town and putting out fires, probably both literal and figurative. Hopefully only the latter but he had lived long enough to see what desperate people were capable of.

The first person John went to talk to was the Sheriff. He still thought the man was a disgrace for letting the town get to this point, but when it mattered, the old warhorse of a Sheriff had stepped up. The only reason he let Blackwood’s past slide was the fact the man had saved him back on the rescue operation. If not for that, he would not be as trusting.

It took John a while to find the Sheriff. He was on the outskirts of town, posted up on the tannery roof, watching the woodline for more trouble. John joined him up there, the two not speaking for a bit as they both scanned the treeline.

“Make it quick, Smith. I’m on watch.”

“Anyone you can recommend to replace the foreman?” he stated plainly.

“Been wondering when you would ask about that. There's a few guys who might want it. But this is a very temporary position if I’m not mistaken?”

“It is,” John confirmed.

“Then why not have Cassandra manage it for the time being?”

“Madam Cassandra?” John asked, surprised by the recommendation.

“Why not,” the Sheriff replied defensively. “She runs her own business, she’s good with money, and all the workers love her. You wouldn’t have to worry about anyone trying anything because if they did they would get banned from the saloon.”

“I don’t doubt that she is capable,” John quickly stated. “I was just surprised. But now that you mention it, she would be a perfect fit. Especially since she already knows Mr. Novarez. I can’t imagine the man would be happy having some random person he didn’t know put in charge of all his mining assets out here.”

“Speaking of mining assets. Do you plan on restarting the mines any time soon?” the Sheriff asked while glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

John shook his head. “Not until I can deal with the Harc’otti. Otherwise, we are just sending people out there to be bait.”

“Good,” Blackwood grunted. “With you working for the boss, I was afraid you might be one of Novarez’s ass-kissers.”

John frowned. “I don’t work for Daniel. I work for his father.”

That got a look of surprise from the old Sheriff.

“Huh. I heard about his old man. Good man from what I heard. Hard to understand what made the kid the right bastard he is.”

That got a chuckle out of John. “Junior has always had a chip on his shoulder because he can’t compare to his father or grandfather.”

The Sheriff turned back to watching the treeline and sighed. “Sometimes I look at you and forget just how old you are. I can’t imagine the shit you’ve seen. Probably makes what we are going through seem petty in comparison.”

“No. While it’s true I’ve seen some shit, so have you. Life is messy, and we can only do what we can.”

After the short conversation, the two lapsed into a companionable silence.

Before it became awkward, John tipped his hat to the man and headed off. He needed to speak with Madam Cassandra. Hopefully, she was receptive to his offer. If not… he would need to find someone else.