A plume of dust grew out around Jake’s feet as he touched down to a barren waste. Looking forward he saw only empty planes filled with dirt and sand rolling forward as far as his eye could see. A little ways ahead he could see massive rock formations with dried plant life and cracked earth to decorate the scene. Jake’s face reflexively tightened into disgust as he took in his surroundings.

Internally he’d come to despise the endlessly stretching plains of the desert after his last trek through the copper sands. Already he could feel the heat of the sun above beginning to bear down and bore into his skin. Beginning to break into a sweat Jake turned around, hoping to find a more pleasing view behind him than what currently faced him in the front.

Behind him, he was still met with the expanse of the desert yet a ray of hope lay nestled within. He could see just over the horizon what looked like a town. At least he assumed it was a town. Whatever it was sat unnaturally against the horizon and was man-made. It was different from the naturally formed cliffs and hills that surrounded the rest of the area. It was made of cut wood and hammered nails and sat alone against the skyline.

Jake was too far away to see any clear sign of movement coming from the town, but he didn’t care even if it was a ghost town. A town, abandoned or not, meant people had lived here once. People meant food, water, and shelter were present in the town at one point. Whether they were there now or not, it was his best bet at finding supplies while he was here. It certainly beat his other option of blindly wandering out into the dusty plains behind him, waiting in what little shade he could find and slowly shriveling up.

Adjusting his pack across his back to sit more comfortably, Jake set out across the plains toward the town he could see on the horizon. Begrudgingly Jake had to admit this desert was infinitely better than the last one he’d had to hike through. The dirt was firm and dry beneath his feet, so he was not constantly sinking into the earth with each step. Unfortunately, this desert still had its own problems.

A constant breeze filled the air, and though at first Jake was hopeful it would provide some relief from the sun above the breeze blowing was hot and rough. Combined with the heat of the breeze was its grit. Particles of sand and dust mixed with the wind to create a cloud of dust which blew forward and stuck to Jake with every step he took. He hadn’t noticed it much at first, but it felt like it was growing worse with every step.

Soon he was coated in dust from head to toe, sand permeating through his clothes sticking everywhere across his body. Dust covered the inside of his jaw leaving his mouth tasting of sand. This time no distinctive taste of copper rang through just the unpleasant taste of the earth. Hands raised in front of his face to try and protect himself as he continued wandering forward, his hatred for the desert only grew to new lengths as he wandered forward through the dust storm.

His vision was blurred as stinging bits of detritus hit his eyes, but he pulled himself towards the blurred vision of the town ahead. The vague shapes of the town grew ever closer till at last he could feel the rough outline of the wood in his outstretched hands. Near blind he pawed his way around the perimeter of the building he felt in his hands, hoping to find some sort of cover yet no relief from the ever-growing dust storm came.

Jake guessed he'd started around the back of the town. As he inched around the side of the building occasionally his hand would slip against what he thought to be the smooth surface of glass or would flex against what could be a door, yet no entrance ever presented itself. Eventually, he found himself wandering up the steps of a wooden porch, a wooden awning hanging over ahead. This helped offer some shielding from the unending onslaught of the dust that encircled him on all sides, yet not enough to make a clear difference.

Moving forward he continued blindly dragging his hand against the wall beside him, he suddenly found himself falling forward as the wall he leaned into gave way with a creak. Collapsing to the floor in a heap amongst an ever-growing pile of dirt and sand, Jake looked up to see a swinging set of batwing doors flying loosely in the breeze above him. Dragging himself upright, Jake looked around the room he’d landed himself in while hurriedly blinking to loosen the thick layers of dust that had collected in his eyes.

It was a rectangular room, thin bulbs hanging over his head from loose wires giving off a yellowish light with flower-like shades. It had wood paneling carved and arranged in ornate patterns along the walls, while the floor was paneled in simple carved planks. A simple spiraled staircase sat in the far corner of the room, leading to a second floor up above. Collections of matching handmade chairs and tables dotted about the room. The major highlight of the room was the long bar that dominated the leftmost half of the room. Long and wooden with brass bars along its top and bottom, Jake could see a few pull taps sticking up from the bar counter. Rows upon rows of bottles of varying sizes and labels lined the simple wooden shelves on the back wall behind the bar.

Behind the bars counter stood a man, dressed simply yet elegantly in a button-up shirt and vest. He had a lean face bespectacled with a thin mustache and greased hair. He was polishing a glass with a rag and was staring at Jake with a confused expression on his face.

“Not many wander during a dust storm. You must be itching for a drink, son.”

Jake tried to respond but the effort just brought forth a series of coughs and further aggravated his dust-covered throat. Moving away from the batwing doors, still blowing freely in the dusty breeze, Jake moved closer toward the barkeep and managed to reply in an itchy whisper.

“It… It was an accident…”

A smirk appeared on the barkeep's face as he nodded along to Jakes words, before setting the glass he was polishing down and turning around. He turned back a minute later resetting one of the larger glass bottles back onto the shelf behind him and set a shot glass down across from Jake.

“Here son, that should help.”

Jake reached for the shot before stopping and shaking his head. Now closer to the bar he could see behind the barkeep a double barrel shotgun displayed prominently hanging from the wall amongst the liquor bottles. Jake had no idea if it was functional, or what offense might result in him getting shot, but as he had no money to pay with he decided it best to play it safe. The barkeep looked confused a moment before asking,

“What, not your brand or something?”

Jake shook his head again before managing to ink out,

“No…Money…”

The barkeep looked shocked at Jake's words. He stood there a moment mouth agape before he sized Jake up and down cautiously from head to toe asking,

“What drags a man here with no money in the middle of a dust storm? Don’t you know where you are?”

Jake shook his head no. The barkeep peered into his eyes a moment before a wide smile crept back across his lips, and he carefully nudged the shot closer toward Jake.

“Well I told you to take that, didn’t I? You never ordered it. That one can be on me. We can work out payment for whatever else you need later.”

Jake nodded, grateful. He doubted he could offer anything significant, or at least anything he was willing to part with, but he gratefully took the shot and downed it. The familiar taste of whisky hurried down his gullet, however, he found his coughing only grew worse. It was stronger, much stronger than any whiskey he’d had back in college. The strength combined with how little there was to drink also did little to help clear his throat. Coughing, he let out a spurting cry,

“…Water… Please…”

The barkeep looked at him more confused than before shrugging and turning around to the bottles lining the backwall. Jake couldn’t see what he was doing but when he turned back around, he provided a glass of uncomfortably murky water. With a slight grimace, Jake downed the water down. It didn’t taste pleasant, and Jake felt the odd particle floating amongst the water with each swallow. Whether this was due to the water or the dust already coating his mouth though, he couldn’t say. Setting the still half-full glass of water onto the counter, Jake turned toward the barkeep and said in a still croaky voice.

“Thank you…”

“No problem son. Now let's talk trade, hm?”

The barkeep leaned over a glint in his eyes as he turned his attention toward the dust-covered pack on Jake's back. With an uncomfortable gulp, Jake swallowed and opened the bag, digging through for something he hoped might interest the barkeep. All he could find was the blue rabbit pelt he’d harvested yesterday. It was in rather poor condition, some dried blood still stuck to the blue of its fur and it had been skinned rather poorly. Still, Jake hoped the uniqueness of the item would make up for its defects.

He presented the pelt to the barkeep, who took hold of the pelt, examining it closely. He dragged his fingers across the blue of its fur before rubbing them together. At finding no color had come off he let out a low murmur of appreciation. Setting the rough rabbit pelt down to the countertop of the bar, he looked back to Jake and said,

“I’ve never seen anything like it, son. Unfortunately, it’s in pretty bad shape, but I can tell you this it’s worth a lot more than one shot and half a glass of water,” the barkeep began stroking his chin as if falling into deep thought before his eyes seemed to light up. “How’s about this, I’ll let you stay the night here up above in one of my rooms. There should be plenty of vacancies. Tell you what as an added bonus…”

He stopped talking and dropped down beneath the bar, disappearing. He was gone from view for quite a while, during which Jake could hear grunts of exertion as the sounds of floorboards being pulled up and the clanging of iron met Jake's ears. When the barkeep resurfaced, he carried with him a decently sized iron lockbox he had to carry it with both hands. He set it flat onto the counter’s surface before removing a key from around his neck. He opened the box facing himself and pulled from inside a set of black boots and a brown poncho with grey trim.

“Added bonus I’ll through these in son. Noticed you lacked any real protection from the dust earlier. We got a deal?” The barkeep extended his hands a large smile creeping across his face. Jake readily shook his hand. A place to sleep tonight was already a massive advantage, but what got Jake really excited was the set of boots and the poncho.

He’d grown tired of tromping around in mismatched shoes. He didn’t particularly look forward to wearing cowboy boots, but it was better than nothing. As for the poncho, he could only see its advantages. It could help keep him warm, help keep him shaded, protect him from the dust. Plus, Jake thought it looked cool. He was more than happy to trade away a pelt he had no use for.

Handing the poncho and the pair of boots over to Jake in one collected bundle, The barkeep included a key with a flat wooden disk attached to it by a leather cord. A one was carved into the disk.

“You can sleep in room one kid. Not much to do with the dust storm going on and you can’t afford anything else, so I’d just stay there. Oh, but take a bath first, would you? I’ll throw that into our deal as well since I don’t want you to track around shit I’ll have to clean. Rooms are labeled, can’t miss 'em.”

Jake thanked the barkeep before heading upstairs, missing the glint held behind the barkeep’s eyes as his smile dropped away.

----------------------------------------

Jake stirred little in his sleep that night. For the first time in a long while he’d been able to take a bath thanks to the bathtub found on the second floor of the saloon. He hadn’t been able to take nearly as relaxing a bath as he may have wanted as the water was rather lukewarm, but it was the best chance he’d had to properly clean himself in a long while. It felt good. Equally as good was the bed of the room he was allowed to stay in.

It was a simple room, only a single-person wire frame bed, a dresser, and an oil lantern, but Jake wasn’t asking for complexity just somewhere to sleep that wasn’t dirt or stone. As soon as he laid down in a real bed he knew the chances of him waking up before sunrise was virtually nonexistent, which is why he fell asleep fully packed to leave.

It took some time to get used to sleeping wearing his pack and to get readjusted to his clothes, as despite his best efforts to shake and clean them the odd grain of sand still stuck to the inside of the fabric to irritate him, but soon he was carried off to sleep not even bothering to try and find something to eat or drink. Jake figured he could deal with those issues tomorrow wherever he next landed, for now, he wanted to rest as long as he could in a real bed.

Unfortunately, in the dead of night, he was woken from his sleep as the door to his room was violently tossed open. He had no time to react as in the dark of night men rushed in to grab him and violently haul him downstairs. His new poncho fluttered around him as his arms were pinned behind his back, pushed roughly into his pack. Soon he was being shoved forward, forced to kneel against the wooden floor of the bar.

Looking up as best he could, he made out a figure he couldn’t recognize clad all in a black duster a Stetson tilted back to reveal he had a long black beard, a bulbous crooked nose, and several missing teeth revealed by a mouth he wore in a scowl. Standing next to him stood the barkeep who held his hands behind his back. His expression was completely neutral as he looked down at Jake. The barkeep turned to the man in black before beginning to speak,

“What did I tell you, I found him. Brown poncho, black boots. That’s how you described him right?”

The man clad in black leaned forward, pushing his bulbous face close to Jake, causing Jake to gulp as a bead of sweat began dripping from his forehead. The man in black held his face a moment, allowing Jake to breathe in his putrid-smelling breath before his face broke into a crooked grin. Pulling back, he clasped the shoulder of the barkeep before saying,

“Never doubted you a minute, Ricky, never doubted you for a minute. If you’ll excuse us me and our little friend here need to step outside, have a talk as it were.”

He looked back toward Jake, a crooked smile still displayed but his eyes dancing with wicked intent. The bartender also met Jake's eyes, remaining neutral for a moment before they too broke into a wicked glint as with a halfhearted shrug he said,

“Just don’t start till you're outside, don’t want to clean more blood than I half to.”

The figure in black laughed and started toward the door of the saloon. The figures holding tight to Jake started dragging him across the rough wooden floor, out towards the sandy roads beyond. Struggling fiercely against their grasp, Jake soon found escape to be impossible. Jake tried to scream or call out but received nothing more than a rough punch to the face, sending him falling to the floor.

A half second passed before he was grabbed again and fully dragged beyond the batwing doors of the saloon. In that time his eyes met the barkeeps who now lazily reclined against the wooden countertop of the bar. With a bored expression, he made a lazed wave toward Jake. That was the last Jake saw of the saloon or its barkeep before being drawn out beyond the doors and thrown to the dirt below.

Landing flat on his stomach, Jake started to crawl to his knees but was stopped when he suddenly felt significant pressure grab hold of his shoulders pinning him in place.

“Think you can steal from me, kid?” He heard the man in black say.

“No please listen I…” Jake tried to start but was interrupted by a sudden strike to his ribs as the boot of the man in black connected sucking the air from his lungs.

“NOT A WORD! NOT A WORD FROM THIEVING SCUM LIKE YOU!” The man in black screamed. Jake coughed and sputtered, trying to regain his composure. He struggled before at last managing to ink out,

“Bar…keep…gave…” But he was interrupted by another kick to his ribs, harder than before that sent him spiraling back onto his back. Spittle flew from his mouth, and he ended up curled up in the fetal position puking as he felt he was suffocating. The man in black walked next to Jake who lay curled up gurgling on bile and gasping for breath and began laughing.

“He sure did kid, gave you up easy. We’ve been looking for you for a while. But with some pressure on this town, you’d be surprised how fast they roll over. We came tonight asking around again and Ricky was all too happy to tell us about you. Help him up.”

He gestured with his hands towards the men surrounding Jake, and suddenly Jake found himself back on his feet though he struggled to stay upright. The man in black stood across from Jack, a smile on his face yet hatred was clear in his eyes.

“No one, no one steals from me. No one disrespects me, dishonors me.” The man in black pulled a revolver from a holster at his waist and cocked it back, aiming the barrel at Jake's head. Jake squirmed feverishly trying to escape but was held fast by the man holding him at all sides. Looking down the barrel of the gun with nowhere to escape, Jake closed his eyes and waited for the click to come.

“No one disrespects me you little shit…” a sudden thumping sound was heard as the revolver was thrown to the dirt landing at Jake's feet. All at once he was released and pushed forward into the dirt, landing above the revolver on his hands and knees gasping for air.

“Pick it up, I want to put you down properly.” The man in black said, reaching out and taking hold of another revolver offered out to him by one of his men. With a gulp, Jake looked around. Around a dozen men of various sizes and builds surrounded him from all sides. Half of them already had their guns drawn, pointed toward Jake panting back and the others had their hands hovering around their holsters ready to draw at a moment’s notice. With no chance of escape, Jake gripped hold of the revolver and stood as the man in black stepped back a few yards.

The gun was heavy and awkward in his hand. He saw the pin cocked back, ready to fire yet holding it up in his hand his arm felt shaky, uncontrollable. As he tried to aim to barrel forward, ahead toward the man in black he couldn’t stop his arms from trembling or the gun from jerking off target. Noticing the trouble Jake seemed to be having with his gun, the man in black smirked before raising his arm wide and saying in a sarcastic voice.

“Go ahead kid, we're waiting”

With a gulp, Jake pulled the trigger. The bullet shot off into the dark landing in the dirt far away from anyone. The recoil of the gun hurt, sending a spike of pain up through his arms and shoulders. He had no clue what he was doing. He had no clue how to hold or fire the gun properly. The result of his other lack of knowledge was his complete failure to his target. As soon as his shoot rang out the surrounding group of men burst into fits of laughter while the man in black chortled and said,

“Not much of a shot are you? Then again…” He pulled the trigger of his gun, still looking over his shoulder at where Jake’s shot had fired off, “You aren’t much of a thief either.”

Sharp, sudden pain tore through his lower ribs as the bullet tore through his body. Jake struggled to process what had happened for a moment as blood began pouring freely from his wound. Every breath seemed to make the pain worse, seemed to worsen the stream of blood pouring out his body. He tried to stay upright, staggering forward a moment as his panic brain tried to think of a plan but nothing came to mind as he found himself collapsing backward into the dirt and blood.

“Still alive? That’s what I get for showing off huh boys?” The man in black's taunt brought a fresh set of laughter from the men surrounding Jake who began to close in on all sides, their black outfits darkening the sky as the morning sun rose above. The man in black walked over and stood above Jake who sputtered for breath on the ground.

“Don’t worry though, you won’t be for much longer."

As the morning sun glinted from the man in black’s gun, the revolver chambered another round, and seconds later the bullet was cocked ready to fire. Panic roared through Jake's mind as he stared into the barrel of the gun above him.

The trigger pulled and the bullet shot forth only to burrow itself into the dirt below. Its intended target had vanished into thin air.