Chapter 4

If there’s one thing that holds true about towns, it’s that a town can feel very different depending on when you arrive. Early morning a town feels very different than it does once the day’s started. Same as if you arrive when people are winding down for the night. Or, if it’s a Sunday, or holiday, chances are the town will be very different than normal.

Showing up past midnight, well, that’s a whole different story.

First, let me make it clear, if not for Emma and Clint, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have found Bison’s Rest this late at night. The term town was… generous. I’d argue that the place itself was more a watering hole for people in between locations. No rails ran through the town, and it was too close to Emma’s town to be a center for trade or commerce. Instead, if I had to guess, some business minded folks had set it up as a last stop before the trek north to Lincoln. Considering far as a I knew, there weren’t any proper railways laid just yet to connect anywhere near Bison’s Rest and Lincoln just yet. And until one came about, well, Bison’s Rest was the stop.

As we silently approached the so called town, a lone burning torch illuminated what I took to be the main entrance. The town itself didn’t even have any proper walls or defenses. Instead, just an old, worn dirt path that led up to a couple fence posts, atop which the torch burned. Beside it, I could make out the shadow of a figure. And a quick burst of mana to my eyes showed me the guard, a wind user, was pretty weak. But again, with a town such as Bison’s Rest, of which there appeared absolutely nothing of note, I doubted they worried much about troublemakers. And that was before Clint and the Marshal, and I had gone and rid the area of the most recent outlaw infestation.

Small as it was, in the dark of the night, barely illuminated by the sliver of the moon above, I couldn’t help but feel a chill run down my spine. The buildings, a variety of which appeared to be in different states of build or repair, looked more like the bones of structures than proper houses and homes. The eerie silence, the lack of well, anything, made it feel like a right proper ghost tone. And then, most notable as we drew closer, was the bleach white skull atop the makeshift gate the guard stood by. It was a bison’s head, no doubt about it, with massive black horns curved upwards at close to ninety-degrees. So large was the skull I figured it could fit over the chest of the man guarding the city. And the empty sockets, staring out towards us, felt… damning.

Each step closer towards the town, felt like we were moving closer and closer to a land of the dead.

I wasn’t the superstitious sort. Nor was I squeamish ‘bout the dead. And even still, I found my hand pressed gently against Baron’s neck. His warmth, the rhythm of his breathing, his strong pulse, helped me steady my breathing, as I fought to chase away the specters that seemed to attempt to haunt my mind.

“Eh,” I heard the man at the gate say, to himself I was pretty certain, as he looked in our direction. We had been traveling in the dark, Emma and Clint guiding use carefully along the worn path, and it made us hard to spot. The man had probably just now heard the sound of our horses, the occasional clipping of an iron shoe striking stone, and the rustle of our saddles and gear. He reached up to his side, and a moment later lit a lantern. The light bathed outwards from him, giving him a better view of our approach. It also caused me to squint, my eyes, so accustomed to the darkness of the night from our travels, suddenly assaulted by the firelight.

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“An who might you be?” The man called as we neared. “Bit late for normal folk to be out and about.”

His right hand was at his side, resting on his pistol, while his left held the lantern towards us. “You here to cause trouble?”

“If we were here to cause trouble,” Emma said, her voice bemused, “then you’d have already been gunned down by my dear friend here.” She motioned towards Clint. The weathered veteran tipped his hat towards the man, before patting his rifle that was resting in its scabbard. “I’m sure you got word of our intent to arrive today, Mr…” she trailed off, fishing for his name.

“Oh, well then,” his hand didn’t move away from his pistol, as he shone the lantern between the three of us. We were close enough now that I could get a good look at him. He was probably in his thirties, with shaggy hair, that could have been blonde and filthy, or just a light brown. He didn’t have any defining features about him, other than the star he wore proudly on his chest. He was a deputy for the town. Though, given its size, I didn’t really think that was all that impressive. Hell, they probably gave badges to any old fool that wanted to ‘keep the peace’ in the area or die trying. I bet the sheriff handed those stars out quicker than a lady of the night could lift her skirts.

“Names Dave,” he said after another moment, “an I think I remember the Sherif mentioning we was supposed to have some visitors coming in. Supposed to be some friends of his.” He peered at the three of us. “That you?”

“That would indeed be us,” Emma said as she gently clicked her heels into the sides of her horse. She started trotting easily forward again. The man’s fingers twitched as she drew nearer, but luckily, for his sake, he didn’t draw. “I know my way to his house, and as you said, he’s expecting me.” She drew closer to him, looking down at the man from atop her horse. “So no need to bother yourself with us. I hope you have an uneventful night, Dave,” she smiled down at him, the firelight flashing off her white teeth, “and I’ll make sure not to mention how unprofessional you were towards the Mayor’s guests.”

At that, Dave’s back stiffened, and finally, his hand left his pistol. He swallowed hard as he watched Emma ride past him. Clint followed shortly after, and I brought up the rear. All I could do was chuckle at the man as I looked down at him, his eyes still trailing Emma. In one turn of phrase, she’d put the man on the backfoot and taken complete control of the situation. By now, I wasn’t sure if she did it on purpose, or it was just a natural skill of hers, a product of her upbringing. Either way, at least for this one time, it wasn’t me on the other end of her comments.

“A good night to you then, Dave,” I said with a chuckle, “if it makes you feel any better,” I slowed Baron’s pace as I got beside the deputy, my voice dropping to a whisper, “the fact she left it off at that, means she’s not going to get you fired. At least, not tonight.”

The look on his face, made me smile all the more, as I followed after Emma. It was childish, sure. But, well… I really didn’t like authority figures. Especially weak ones.