The nervous foreman led John to a wrought-iron fenced-in two-story house. The fenced-in area around the house wasn’t large, but it was telling. Especially since no other house in town sported such an extravagant design element. He looked up at the iron arch over the padlocked gate. It read ‘Novarez Estate’. Of course, it did.

This surprised John. Not because he couldn’t picture his boss doing something like this. He certainly could. But he knew Daniel Novarez would never be caught dead in a small town such as this. The man was a man of the city and enjoyed those comforts to their fullest.

John had never once seen his boss leave New Gata. Despite the man having mining interests up and down the East Coast and all the way to the Shiffen Spine Mountain range, that separated the colonized East from the unexplored West, his boss had never left the big city. He conducted all of his business out of the Gateway to the New World as some people referred to New Gata.

So why bother building a house for himself out here? John looked to the foreman causing the man to start and fumble for a key to the locked gate.

As the man hurriedly went to unlock the gate, he seemed to understand John’s unasked question. “The boss has houses built in all of his mining cities. They are meant as a place for his direct representatives to stay.”

So people realized who was in charge and to remind his representatives who they worked for.

He really shouldn’t be surprised by this. He knew Daniel Novarez was a self-entitled, self-centered, asshole.

The lock made a loud click as Frederick finally managed to find the correct key. With a groan of uncared-for metal, the gate swung open and John walked in. Frederick followed him in after closing and latching the gate. The overweight man had to slightly jog to catch up with John’s much longer stride. He could have waited or slowed his stride but he didn’t much like the pompous little man.

Frederick seemed like the type of person who would use any ounce of power over someone to take advantage of them. And when someone with real authority came along, he groveled and simpered like a well-trained dog. It explained why Mr. Novarez put him in charge of the money shipments.

The front door to the house looked to be made of some thick dark wood with an ornate N carved into its center. Another monument to the man’s ego. This time when Frederick unlocked the door, he stepped aside and didn’t appear as if he was going to enter. When John looked at him for an explanation, the man cleared his throat.

“Ahem… I am not allowed inside. Only the occasional cleaning staff, used to maintain the residence as well as Mr. Novarez’s direct… um, representative are allowed inside. Unless of course, you wish for me to enter?"

Calling him a representative was a very polite way of saying he was Mr. Novarez’s enforcer and they both knew it. John snapped his fingers and held out his hand. “I want both keys.”

Annoyance flashed across the foreman’s face for an instant before the pudgy man squashed it. He gave an exaggerated resigned sigh. “Without the key, how will I let the maids in during your stay?”

“You won’t,” John stated flatly, stopping any such discussion on the matter. He didn’t need the foreman’s spies looking into him or his business.

Reluctantly, the man handed over both keys and John shoved them into his vest pocket. “Have someone bring my trunk by and leave it on the porch.”

The man took the statement as the intended dismissal it was and bowed his head slightly. “At once, Mr. Smith.”

Once Mr. Novarez’s lapdog left, John headed inside and shut the heavy door. He allowed himself a moment to relax, popping his neck to relieve the stiffness. He never much liked playing the hardass, but he found that a combination of fear and respect usually garnered the best results when dealing with the unknown.

The house was large, sporting four rather impressive bedrooms, a study, a dining room that looked like it could seat twenty, a parlor for entertainment, a kitchen with three stoves, and a well-equipped bathroom with running water.

That last part was a surprise to John since there was no electricity. It didn’t take him long to find out why the house had running water. The backyard sported a large water tower. And a convenient steam pump to draw the water from a well and into the tower to refill it. The bathroom even had a small boiler to heat the water.

John took full advantage of this luxury to wash the grime of the last week off. Once he was clean and dressed, he stepped outside and found his trunk waiting for him. After a brief inspection to ensure the idiot foreman hadn’t tried to get inside, he lifted the wooden chest and carried it through the door and up into the room he had chosen.

It wasn’t the largest room in the house, but it was the closest to the stairs and the bathroom, which suited him just fine. He unlocked the case and set one of the rifles next to the door. He didn’t expect trouble but it was important to be prepared. He also stuck some ammo in one of the drawers on the writing table. The rest he left locked in the trunk which he pushed into a closet.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

With that out of the way, John picked up his holey hat and left the house. The first item on his agenda was to replace the damaged head covering. Then he needed to get a report on the issues in town.

Ember Creek wasn’t large enough to have a dedicated haberdashery, but John’s search took him to the general store. The store didn’t have a large selection, but it did sell the essentials. Unfortunately, they didn’t carry derby hats much to John’s annoyance. He didn’t much like the longer-brimmed hats as they could block sight. He eventually found one made from soft leather with a felt lining. The sides were curved upwards, limiting their obstruction slightly. It wasn’t ideal but it was the best he could hope for out here. He couldn’t keep walking around wearing the damaged hat like some penniless fool.

“Find what you were looking for?” A grey-haired man behind the counter asked.

“I did. Unfortunately, I’m new here. The pricetag said three novos?”

The man rubbed the back of his neck looking a bit embarrassed. “That’s just what everyone calls the currency.”

John reached into his pocket and produced three dollars. “Would this suffice instead?”

The man barely even glanced at the money before snatching it out of John’s hand. “We do accept Fareen currency. If you have more, feel free to come on by.”

John almost snorted in response. It seemed he wasn’t the only one to find Mr. Novarez’s stranglehold on the currency distasteful.

“Could you dispose of this for me?” John handed his old hat to the man.

The man accepted the hat, looking curiously at the hole that went straight through. “Ran into a bit of trouble, Mister?”

“Call me John, and something like that.”

The man grunted. “I’m not surprised. Seems to be more trouble cropping up lately. By the way, my name’s Ernest. You may also see my son managing the shop from time to time. His name’s Billy.”

John tilted the brim of his new hat at the man. “Nice to meet you, Ernest. Could you point me toward the Peacekeepers?”

After following the aged shopkeeper's directions, John found himself outside a single-story stone and wood building. He didn’t go in right away though. Instead, he circled the building once before stopping out front with a frown.

It was barely a jail. There were four cells all of which had barred windows that led outside. There were shutters that could close over those to keep the weather out, but that would be all they were good for. Not that he expected they ever held hardened criminals inside these cells. If he had to guess, they were used more as a drunk lockup than anything else. Going by the snoring noise coming from one room, it seemed to be in use. Now that he knew what he was working with, it was time to meet the local law.

The front door opened with a loud creak and the tinkle of an overhead bell. The inside wasn’t very large. Two desks were sitting off to either wall facing the front with a door set in the center behind them that probably led to the cells.

A younger woman wearing a frilly white shirt and leather bodice with far too many straps and buckles looked up from something she had been fiddling with on the desk. Covering her eyes were a pair of strange glasses with one side sporting what looked like a small looking glass.

It appeared this woman was an artificer of some sort. But among the numerous buckles and small pouches on her bodice, he also noticed the badge that read ‘Deputy’.

John removed his hat, holding it to his chest as he nodded. “Ma’am.”

“Greetings, How can I help you today?” The brunette girl asked. She was all smiles as she removed the strange glasses.

“You’re the deputy?”

“Yup,” she laughed. “Don’t let my age fool you. I graduated from Academy three years ago.”

John wanted to ask what academy, but it was probably something Mr. Novarez had cooked up to cut out actual lawmen from being involved in his town. Not that he doubted this woman’s ability. Just her experience.

“I was looking to speak with the Sheriff.”

John didn’t miss her gaze flicking toward the door behind her. “I’m afraid the Sheriff is indisposed at the moment." Then she looked around conspiratorially. “But if I’m honest, you’re better off speaking to me anyway.”

“I see.” John set his hat on the rack to the side, next to a frilly tophat with more buckles on it.

“What’s that you’re working on?”

“Oh, this? It’s nothing really. Just a project.” When her gaze returned to John, they stopped momentarily on where his weapons were hidden by his coat. Her smile slipped slightly for a moment. “Who did you say you were?”

He hadn’t, but he was glad to see she had good instincts. “Apologies,” he said, offering his hand. “My name is John. John Smith.”

Instead of extending her hand to shake his, she simply said, “Oh…”

“So you know who I am then?” John asked, letting his hand fall back to his side.

She glanced back toward the cell doors with concern. “Um. Yes. I wasn’t supposed to read the letter Mr. Novarez sent… They were meant for the Sheriff.”

“Let me guess, he was indisposed? Deputy, I’m not one to beat around the bush. Your boss was too busy sleeping off a bender wasn’t he?”

She tried to smile again, but it seemed forced. “He’s not a bad man… Just, you know?”

Instead of crowding the flustered woman, he sat on the desk opposite hers. “I honestly don’t. Why don’t you tell me.”

It didn’t take long to get the story out of the woman. Her boss was some ex-soldier. He had been part of the early efforts to clear the west side of the Spine so people could settle the area. He did something or witnessed something bad and left the army.

The man had been assigned to Ember Creek after joining with Terminus Mining. A real shit deal considering the mountains were probably a constant reminder of what the man had done. And like most men who couldn’t live with their actions, he tried to drown himself in alcohol.

John thumbed toward the door that led to the cells. “If I walk in there, am I going to find our esteemed Sheriff?”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

He did just that, finding a mess of a man passed out in an open cell, snoring up a storm, with an empty bottle lying discarded on the ground next to him. He shook his head and walked back out of the holding area.

John sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “You understand that your boss's inability to do his job is why I was sent out here, right?”

“Yes,” she squeaked out.

“How long is he usually out?” It was still morning, but only for another hour or so. If the man did this every day, it was no wonder Ember Creek was falling apart. One deputy could only do so much in a town of this size.

“He’s usually awake by now, but when your train didn’t arrive on time, he spent the entirety of yesterday at the saloon.”

So the man expected to be relieved of duty, maybe even assigned somewhere else. When that didn’t happen, he drank himself into oblivion. Well, the man was gonna get a rude wake-up call. John wasn’t here to replace or relieve him. Only to fix the mess he created.

John stood from the desk and headed back for the door. “Come with me, your boss can sleep off his mistakes.”

The deputy scrambled to follow him as John grabbed his hat and stepped out the door.