“Now what?” Deputy Seline asked. Despite her chastisement of his methods, the woman sounded almost hopeful to have some of the workload taken off of her.

“Now you go back to the jail and wait for our illustrious Sherrif to come around.”

“Are you sure? Aren’t you worried about what Pappy Klein will do after what you did to Big D?”

John stopped, almost causing the Deputy to run into him. “Big D? Really?”

“Don’t look at me, that’s what he goes around calling himself.”

John just shook his head and continued walking. “Why would I care about what this Pappy fellow does? If I cared about what every single idiot did after I put them or their family members in their place, I would constantly second-guess my actions. And doing that gets you killed. Take that lesson to heart, Deputy Seline. You may not have had to use your gun for self-defense yet, but there will come a day when you need to. Hesitating could mean the difference between saving yourself or allowing some innocent to die.”

The pair stopped outside the jail and John turned to the younger officer. “This is where we part ways. Think about what I said.”

“I- I’ll do that. Thank you, John.”

John nodded. The woman looked deep in thought, so it seemed his words had the desired effect. She seemed like a competent enough Peacekeeper, she had to be considering she had held the town together so far. If she survived the tribulation of having to take a life, she may even be among the greats. Only time will tell.

“I’ll probably be down by the train station for the next few hours. Come get me once the Sheriff finishes sleeping off his hangover. We need to have a chat.” With that, he walked away, leaving a very uncertain Deputy behind.

Other than the last remaining passengers having moved off, not much had changed at the train station since he had arrived a few hours ago. He had expected some of the cargo to have been unloaded by this point but it was all still sitting on the flat cars.

When he moved around to the far side of the train he found the reason why. The conductor and engineer were hard at work removing the cobbled-together parts they had used to get the train moving again.

The engineer was the first to spot him and he elbowed the conductor to get his attention.

“Mr. Smith,” the Conductor spoke, offering his hand after wiping the grease off. John shook the man’s hand.

“You left so quickly that we didn’t get to properly thank you for taking care of the bandits.”

“You already thanked me once. It wasn’t necessary then, and it isn’t now. I was just doing what needed to be done,” John stated, releasing the man’s hand.

“Still. We would have likely died if you weren’t aboard. It would be ill-mannered of me not to thank you.”

Instead of continuing to argue, John nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Why are you taking apart the train?”

“Those fixes we used to get the train running were only temporary. I’m honestly surprised they held as long as they did. Those hoses were built for a walker, they were never designed for the pressures a train can generate.”

As the man started going into the more technical aspects, John tuned him out. The engineer must have realized they were losing John’s attention and nudged the older man.

“Anyway,” the man spoke quickly. “We asked one of the workers to fetch the local artificer. They should be able to build us proper replacement parts. Although it will delay our return trip.”

John winced at the news. They had already been delayed a day just arriving. Having the train get delayed even further would reflect poorly on his performance so far. But there was little he could do about it. “How long are you expecting it to take?”

The conductor looked over to the engineer. The younger man shrugged. “A couple of days, maybe. Hard to say. If the local artificer has the pipes on hand, maybe less. If not, he’ll need to make them. But we’re stuck here for a week anyway just to unload everything and load up for the return trip.”

“Would it help if I get some workers over here to assist?”

Both men shook their heads but it was the conductor who responded. “They would likely just get in the way. Besides, there is only one cargo crane.”

John looked in the direction the man thumbed. The overhead gantry ran along a wider set of tracks that ran parallel to the train tracks. It sat near the water tower and another bin that likely held coal. He had noted the construction when he arrived but hadn’t thought much about it. He supposed there would be no point assigning more people to assist if there was only one crane.

“What about the… what did you call it? The walker.”

“As far as we are concerned, it belongs to you or Mr. Novarez. Since we are removing the pipes and hoses we took from it, we should be able to get it back into working order. If you would like, we can ask the artificer to take it to his shop once he comes by.”

“That’s fine with me. I just have a few more questions before I let you two get back to work.”

“Certainly,” The older man replied. “What would you like to know?”

“Is there a lot of bandit activity along the route?”

The man paused and thought for a bit. “Not really. Sure we get the occasional gang that takes potshots at us. But most of those are opportunists. Once they realize the train is a harder target than they realized, they don’t usually try a second time.”

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“So this attack was unusual then?”

“Yeah,” The engineer spat. “They knew when and how to strike us to disable the train. Crack shots too.”

John nodded. He agreed with the engineer. It wasn’t easy to hit a moving target.

“They were also far better equipped than any other gang we have come across,” The man said as he glanced over at the walker sitting atop the train car. “Walkers are pretty basic as far as automatons go, but they still aren’t cheap. They could have bought four good horses for the cost of the contraption. The devices really are only practical for extremely rough terrain. Then there’s the cost of running it and keeping it maintained. While not all that onerous, it's more than keeping four horses fed and watered.” The man scratched at his beard. “I suppose they could have used wood to keep it powered most of the time, but wood isn’t very efficient compared to coal.”

It was much as John had expected. He didn’t know much about automatons, but he did know the only people who used them in New Gata were the well-off. And going by the rough and dirty clothing the bandits had been wearing, they were not criminal masterminds. That likely meant someone was bankrolling them. The who and why were the questions though.

John tilted his hat and thanked the men before heading off. He wasn’t sure how the attack fit with everything else the Deputy had told him, but he doubted it was a coincidence. Someone wanted to disrupt Terminus Mining’s operations in the area and he needed to find out who and why before his boss decided to send some mercenaries out here. Ember Creek had enough issues without adding groups like that.

As he rounded the train, he spotted a steam-powered cart hurtling its way down the street toward the train station. The auto-wagon was being piloted by a grey-haired man sporting thick goggles and a wild-eyed grin on his face. The man didn’t seem fazed at all as people shouted and cursed him out as they were forced to quickly move aside as he passed.

The auto-wagon came to a screeching puffing halt only feet before it would have slammed into the side of the train. John was far more familiar with auto-wagons. New Gata had more than its fair share of the contraptions.

Before the thing even came to a full stop, the man practically threw himself off of it and onto the flat car that held the walker. Which was rather impressive considering the man had to be in his sixties. And if he thought Deputy Seline had too many buckles and pockets on her outfit, this man easily tripled that. Unlike hers, this man’s belts seemed to be festooned not only with pouches but loops to hold all manner of tools, most of which were full.

As the man scrabbled over to the disabled walker, he made so much noise that it made John wince and plug his ears. He sounded like the world's worst windchime.

He knew he had told the Deputy that he was going to stick around the train for a while, but he didn’t have the patience to deal with this eccentric artificer at the moment. While the older man was busy getting yelled at by the train crew, John slipped away. Deputy Seline would just have to find him back at his residence.

***

By the time a knock finally sounded at the front door, John had eaten lunch and had time to take inventory of all his supplies as well as reload any of his spent ammunition. Before heading down the stairs to answer the door, he glanced out the window. He frowned at the time, the sun had already passed its zenith and it was well into the afternoon.

There was another knock on the door. “I’m coming!” he shouted in annoyance.

When he finally opened the door, he found Deputy Seline standing there looking troubled. Going by the fact she was alone, he could probably guess why.

“Where is he?”

“He- He headed to the Silken Riches as soon as he woke up.”

John sighed. “Wait here.” Not waiting for a response, he stepped back inside the house and grabbed his coat and hat.

“You’re not gonna hurt him are ya? The Sheriff is a good guy… he’s just got some demons he has to work out.”

“I’m not here to coddle him, Seline. If the Sheriff doesn’t want to see reason, he needs to give up his badge and leave. Not drag the rest of the town down with him. Why do you think I was forced to come out here in the first place?”

She didn’t have a response for that as she fell in step beside him. He could have made it to the saloon in half the time without the Deputy tagging along, but there was no rush. Their unhurried stroll gave him time to take in the changes his actions had caused.

It seemed like word had gotten around about what he did to the Klein boy, Derek. People were giving him a wide birth, not willing to look him in the eye. He could still see the anger and resentment that the people felt about him being here though. That wasn’t surprising considering who he worked for.

As they neared the saloon, he could clearly hear some sort of altercation going on. He hoped this wasn’t going to be an ongoing issue every time he approached the place. Someone was shouting inside followed by a crash of wood.

They arrived just in time to see Ricardo toss a slovenly-dressed man out the door and into the street. “I already told you, Sheriff. You’re cut off, Madam Cassandra’s order.”

“You fucking ingrate!” the man shouted as he rose unsteadily to his feet. “I’m the fucking Sheriff! I protect this town!”

Ricardo looked over at John before snorting and going back inside.

“Not anymore,” John stated as he crossed the last few feet to stand in front of the Sheriff.

“And who the hell are you? Seline, who the hell is this?”

“Sheriff Blackwood, I tried to tell you back at the station, but you didn’t want to listen. This is John Smith. He was sent here by Mr. Novarez to help us.”

“Bullshit,” the Sheriff spat. “That bastard wouldn’t lift a finger to help us. He’s only worried about his money.”

If the sheriff wasn’t a raging alcoholic, he might have been another person John could turn to like Cassandra. It was a pity. Then John paused as the man’s name registered. “Blackwood?” John asked. “Wyatt Blackwood?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” The man tensed, his hand hovering near his sidearm.

John ignored the movement. Now that he had a name to go with this Sheriff, he knew exactly why the man was the way he was. Wyatt Blackwood was a notorious name from back during the war. He led the 4th company, a special operations unit that had been specifically designed to cause chaos for the indigenous populations west of the Spine during the conflict. At least until they burned down an entire village full of women and children by mistake. Of course, this was what was written in the history books. But John well knew history was written by the victor.

John had thought the man dead, hell most people probably did. Those who cared to remember him anyway. It was no wonder the man wanted to drown himself in alcohol.

Despite that sad tale, John had no sympathy for the man. The Sheriff wasn’t the only one with a checkered past. He had done some messed up shit back when he was part of the Irtishian Irregulars. But he at least had the mind-altering effects of the elixer to blame. Even so, he had never lost himself to booze or drugs to cope with what he had done as the Sheriff had. It wasn’t that he didn’t remember them, he did. He remembered every atrocity he had been ordered to commit. John refused to forget, that would be like spitting in the eye of his victims. Even after two hundred years, he still worked to pay off that bad karma.

If someone like John could cope, the Sheriff didn’t have any excuse for his actions.

Before the hungover Sheriff could finish reaching for his weapon, John blurred forward. The man had no time to react as he hammered his elbow into the side of the Sheriff’s head. He held back on the blow, he didn’t want to kill the guy, but he still went down like a puppet with his strings cut. Before Blackwood could recover, John removed the weapon from his holster and handed it to Deputy Seline. “Hold onto this for now.”

She reluctantly took the weapon.

John gave the Sheriff a few minutes to recover before he spoke again. “I don’t give two shits about your past, Blackwood. What I care about is making sure this town stays safe and that shipments return to normal. If you want to erase your past in a bottle, that’s fine by me. But you won’t be doing it here. So either man up or get the hell out.”