Seeing John, the man rushed over to assist.

“Pull the spear out of my arm, I have the room covered.”

“A- Are you sure? Shouldn’t you go to the Doc?”

“I’ll be fine, just do it.”

The man slung his rifle over his shoulder and grabbed the spear tentatively with one hand and John’s arm with the other. He gave John a searching look before sighing quietly and yanking the spear out with one quick pull.

John grunted as the spear came free, but he held the arm in place as the man pulled out a handkerchief and wrapped it around the wound. While this was happening, John never took his eyes off the back door. He could still hear people moving around in the cell area. But he was waiting for the rest of Blackwood’s people before he decided to go in guns blazing.

Wyatt was the last to jog up to the jail, his breathing coming in ragged gasps as he tried to catch his breath. “Wha- What happened?”

“I just got back from the train. No survivors, but there were a lot of weapons. Figured I would bring them to the jail. When I arrived and saw it wasn’t searched, I decided to do it myself. Two men almost got the better of me. I can hear more hiding in the back room, but they haven’t come out. They may not even be combatants. I saw some people assisting the Harc’otti with the armor, this could be where they are hiding now.”

“Probably their women or children,” the Sheriff spat. “Non-fighters are not treated very well among the Harc’otti.” Blackwood motioned for one of his people who was holding the partial remains of a door. They had drilled some holes through it and strapped loops of leather through.

John realized it was an improvised shield.

The Sheriff must have seen his interest. “It may look ridiculous but it’s saved a few of us more than once already.”

“If it works it works,” John stated.

The man with the door shield stepped into the building and four more with rifles entered behind him. With a nod, one of the men jerked the door to the backroom open and the shield man braced for an attack.

There was a loud bleat and seven sheep rushed out of the back room. John was forced to step aside as the frightened animals rushed out of the building and down the street.

Everyone watched the animals for a bit before relieved laughter broke out.

Blackwood turned to him with a completely straight face. “Whatever would we do if you weren’t here to protect us against those vicious things?”

“Shut up,” John sighed, earning a chuckle from the Sheriff. “Why are they even hiding sheep inside this building?”

“No clue. We’ve found other stockpiles of food in strange locations but this is the first evidence of them taking livestock. You mentioned guns?” Wyatt asked.

John put his revolver away and gestured to the sheet wrapped around a nearby post. “The train had a full complement of mercenaries aboard. But they weren’t sent by Novarez.”

The Sheriff paused. “They weren’t? Then who sent them?”

“It’s only a guess, but I believe a man by the name of Vernon Hensley sent them.” After looking around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping, he lowered his voice and said, “I think he may have also killed Novarez.”

“Can’t say I’m all that upset by that news, but are you sure?”

John shook his head. “No, but that’s what it said in the letter on one of the dead men. This mysterious V will also be arriving soon by airship.”

“Sounds like the man is stupidly brave or suicidal to board one of those things. Any idea who attacked the train?”

“Someone inside detonated the caboose filled with explosives, but there were two separate attacks. The second derailed the entire engine and left a huge crater. There’s only one person that comes to mind.”

“Jacob,” Wyatt growled. “But where did he get the explosives from? You said you detonated everything they stole from the foreman.”

“That they stole this time around,” John corrected the man. “For all I know, every time the train arrived, it came plum full of dynamite. My guess is that V and Jacob have been planning this for years.”

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“Hmm,” Blackwood rubbed his beard. “Not much we can do about that but to endure. Your arm gonna be ok?”

John glanced down at the ragged cut that ran up the side of his arm. It was already almost sealed, and the blood flowing from the deep gash where the spear had been had stopped bleeding already. He moved it gently, getting a spike of pain. “It’ll be fine in a few hours.”

“Good, because we don’t have time to babysit you. Now let’s go see these weapons you nearly died to bring me. We could use more.”

John joined the man as they walked over to the bundle. Blackwood untied the sheet and laid it out to get a good inventory of what they had. He whistled approvingly. “The pistols will help us clear the building more efficiently. Hard to maneuver the rifles once we get inside. I would say we should store the rest in the gun cabinet inside the jail, but I see the Harc’otti hacked that apart looking for weapons.”

The Sheriff whistled and his men who had been guarding the area from further threat came over. He handed each a holster with a pistol still in it. That still left thirty-four pistols and forty rifles. Once he was done handing out weapons, he tied the improvised sack closed again and handed it to John.

“Take them back across the bridge and hand them out to the defenders. There’s no point hoarding them at a time like this.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “We could use a lot more if I’m honest. Someone having one of these could save my life.”

John tossed the bag over his shoulder using his good arm. It would mean he didn’t have access to his weapons, but he was planning on returning the same way he came. And that route was already mostly cleared.

The Sheriff urged his people to recharge their weapons inside the jail. The Harc’otti hadn’t bothered to destroy the esoteric artificer recharging station.

“Seline still with her uncle?” John asked as he watched the deputized men enter the building one at a time.

“Yeah. Last I heard, he was still unconscious. The Doc says he should wake up soon. Travis’ bump to the head looked worse than it actually was.”

“Good to know. We can’t afford to lose him at this critical stage. If it wasn’t for that walker, the city would be a ghost town already.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Wyatt snorted. “I was there, remember?”

Before the Sheriff and the deputized men left, John took advantage of the recharger to top off his own Pneuma pistol. There was a recharger across the river inside Travis’ compound and one inside the foreman’s office. So people wouldn’t need to cross to this side to recharge the empty weapons.

Before leaving, he also reloaded his revolver. It was a bit awkward with one hand, but he had practiced one-handed reloading for this very situation. It wasn’t the first time he had lost temporary use of one of his arms. At least he still had one good arm. He recalled a time long ago when both his arms were injured and he was forced to fight off three men with only his legs.

He nodded to the group of men before wandering off back toward the bridge. Occasionally he would flex his healing arm to ensure the muscles were repairing themselves properly. If they weren’t he would have to slice open the wound again.

Handing out the weapons took no time at all. Anyone still defending the bridge without one, quickly came over and grabbed one from the pile. After that was done, John decided to do some much-needed relaxing in a chair near a fire.

Someone had built a fire pit and cooked up a huge pot of stew for anyone who wanted some. He thanked the small boy who carried a full bowl of the food over to his table. Another woman came by soon after with a mug full of ale.

He thanked her as well and the woman just gave him a tired smile in return.

He took his time spooning the delicious meal into his mouth. His peaceful meal didn’t last long though.

A very irate-looking artificer plopped down in a chair across from him. Deputy Seline wasn’t far behind.

“Did you see what they did to my beautiful walker!” Travis practically screeched.

“Sorry about Uncle, he refused to stay at the clinic after he woke up.”

John sighed. “It’s fine. And yes, I saw what happened.”

“Those barbaric… barbarians. Have they no understanding of the technological marvel they so casually destroyed?”

“I’m sure they could say the same about you and those suits of theirs,” John replied as he set his spoon into the nearly empty bowl. His appetite had suddenly vanished. He really wasn’t interested in having this sort of conversation at the moment.

Travis blew out a breath in his best imitation of a train whistle. “Those things are nothing in comparison to the walker. Sure at first I was intrigued by them, but they aren’t even as sophisticated as my auto-arms.”

“Auto-arms?” John had to ask.

“Yes, the arms I used to increase efficiency in my shop. The armor simply uses pressure plates built into the suits that open and close valves to make it seem life-like. It’s a ridiculous use for something so complex. You don’t see the people with mechanical limbs requiring something so crude.”

“So how do those work then?” John asked, a little curious about that.

“They just rely on existing muscle contractions to function. It’s not perfect mind you, but it works. The only thing those pressure plates allow is for the suits to essentially enhance the user's strength through steam power. The more I see of this unknown artificer’s work, the more I realize they aren’t very talented. I’m starting to doubt they even figured out how to work those damn crystals. It probably happened by accident.”

“If you’re so upset by this, why not build something to outdo them?” He said this even though Seline was shaking her head.

Travis perked up, Seline sighed, and John just shrugged.

“I will, I’ll show those talentless idiots what a real artificer is like. Then we’ll see.” Travis shot to his feet and stormed off.

“Thanks for that,” Seline groaned. “The Doc wanted him to rest for a few days, but that’s not going to happen now.” She got up. “I’ll go keep an eye on him.”

John felt sorry for the girl, but not sorry enough to apologize. Her uncle had just barged in and disrupted the only peaceful moment he had in days. With a grunt, he got up and went in search of his hat. Maybe he would encounter some more Harc’otti on the way so he could vent his frustration.