West of Kansas, Union
December 2nd, 1884
Luck pulled the binoculars away from his eyes. He squinted at the town in the valley below, north of the hill he was on. “This town, ain’t it.” He said. As the night approached, the orange sky gave way to darkness. He walked over to his horse, Wayward, and stashed the binoculars away in a saddlebag.
“What do you think, girl? We’re somewhere on the Union and Free West border. My best guess is the town is Union.” Luck took a brush from the same saddlebag he put the binoculars in and started brushing Wayward’s neck, “it’s definitely not the town Long Claw and Halifax mentioned. A town that big would have provisions and maybe even a place to sleep.”
Wayward whinnied and kicked the ground with a hoof.
“I know that there might be Union Law Bearers down there, but we’re low on food and in dire need of a bath.” Luck rebutted.
In response, Wayward pulled away mid brush and blew a gust of breath out of her nose while trotting in place.
“Alright, alright, no need to be rude. We’ll camp out here tonight and set off at first light.”
Wayward settled down and moved closer to Luck, nudging him with her nose.
Luck patted her a few times and got to removing her saddle and setting up for the night.
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With a small fire built, Luck settled in. A handful of jerky, some hardtack, and water to wash it all down would be his dinner. He’d been traveling for a few months now, having left Casa Verde after the incident with bounty hunters. Initially, Luck had left with Pedro and Bill, traveling together until they reached a different town. The two men, traveling to Mexico on what they called “a spiritual journey,” told Luck of a place called Alicetown that welcomed people like him. It was an hour west of the Kansas Union border.
When Luck asked what they meant by people like him, they explained that it was a place filled with criminals, most of which were fugitives of the Union; but that they were good people. Many of which were also in hiding. With no clear destination in mind aside from “far away,” Luck decided to make his way to Alicetown. A journey that had been easy going until some bandits looking for a payday recognized him. He collected provisions when the bandits kindly informed him of his bounty, which had increased since the Casa Verde gunfight. The encounter prompted a quick scuffle and chase, ending with one bullet flesh wound, a river drowned bandit, and no extra provisions, making the week leading up to this tasty dinner a hungry one.
It was also why he avoided going into the last town he passed. The last thing he needed was more trouble this close to his destination. He pulled out his map as he chewed on a piece of hardtack. Luck marked his location on the hill, a good spot with plenty of tree cover and a good vantage point. He had made general markings with the help of Long Claw and Halifax, sketching out the town in the valley, Willisborough with Alicetown west of it. Apparently, there was also a lake somewhere southeast of Alicetown, closer to Willisborough. But from where he was, and with no sun, it was hard to tell. Luck looked at the map one last time before putting it away. Then he tossed a few small branches on the fire.
“The fire burns bright, but not enough to warm me through the night. I seek a home where I can stay, unperturbed by Union ways. Sitting here, mostly alone, I think of the place I’ll see someday. Either home or heaven, I do not know. Maybe I’ll just follow where the wind blows.” Luck poked at the fire with a stick, “What do you think, Wayward?”
There was no response from her. She was sound asleep near the fire.
“I’ll take your silence as approval.” He reached into his jacket breast pocket and pulled out a leather-bound journal and a pen to write down the poem.
Luck spent the rest of the night drifting in and out of sleep, waking up long enough to feed the fire a bit. Until his eyelids got too heavy to open again.
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The following morning, Luck awoke to find Wayward missing. He searched for her in the immediate area but only found the saddle. He checked to see if all his belongings were still in his camp, and they were. Looking for clues, Luck found a faint trail; hoof marks on softened grass. The tracks led down the hill towards Willisborough, “Unfortunately….”
Union law didn’t allow people to openly carry guns. Unless they had a Union permit, which he didn’t. He did have the grey, knee-length wool coat that he was wearing. Luck took his sawed-off shotgun and holstered it on his back with the barrel pointing up. He then tucked the M1877 Colt Lightning in the back of his trousers. Lastly, he stuffed 10-gauge shells in his right coat pocket and .38 caliber rounds in his left one. Lastly, He put his brown hat on his head and pulled the brim low on his face. Luck stood on that hill and practiced some ruses if he encountered any law bearers.
“Huh? No officer, I don’t know who that is. I’m just a traveler looking for my lost horse,” he rehearsed. “Where am I from? Tejas. But I’ve been traveling for some time, research for a travel book. Huh? You wanna read what I have? Sorry sir’s or ma’am’s, but it’s all up here,” Luck said, tapping his temple, “wait, why don’t you believe me?” Luck quickly drew his revolver and shotgun, with his right and left hand, respectively, miming shooting law bearers. He dropped his arms and shrugged with a deep breath, “I’ll come up with something better.”
Luck holstered his weapons, gathered his belongings, and followed the hoof trails that led to Willisborough.
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Approaching the edge of town between two houses, Luck could see the various electrical lamp posts going dark. From where he stood, he seemed to be in the residential space of town. The sounds of a town waking up began to fill the empty air. Folks were dressed regally as they hopped into the back of small horse-pulled carriages made for one, taking off with the sound of hooves and wood along the cobblestone streets. Carriages and horses that were not in use lined the edge of both sides of the road. A pair of young boys went from horse to horse with a wheelbarrow and shovels, collecting horse manure.
During the last stretch into town, Luck lost track of the hooves left by Wayward, but if she was anywhere, she probably wouldn’t be amongst the owned horse.
The road he was on went from east to west, so Luck decided to walk east, looking for the nonresidential area of town. As he walked, people turned their heads to look at him. Clearly, he didn’t belong. He tried to keep his head down without looking too inconspicuous. However, being a stranger walking down the street, sweating, and hauling a saddle was doing him no favors.
Eventually, he reached the end of the street where a factory came into view. Not an entirely constructed factory, though. It had a foundation set down, and about half the walls had been erected. In fact, the only reason Luck knew it was a factory was because there was a big sign that read, “Future Home of Willis Weaponry Factory Works.”
“It’s all a lie.” A soft voice said behind him.
Luck turned, not suspiciously, but curiously, and saw a young girl, dark blond hair, blue eyes, her face white but her cheeks and nose red from the cold. She was bundled up in a thick fur coat. He couldn’t tell if her arms were in the sleaves or inside the coat. “What’s a lie?
“It’s something that tries to pass off as truthful but isn’t.” She said with a straight face.
Luck cocked his head and raised his eyes brows. “That – is accurate.” He was unsure if the girl was making a joke, especially since her face was expressionless.
She turned to look at Luck and smiled softly.
“I see, you are jesting! Okay. That’s very good.” Luck smiled, praising her poker face and her wit.
“You look lost Mister…?”
“Luck, Tomas Luck.” Luck extended his free hand, and she reached a handout from within her fur coat and shook it. “And you are?”
“Racheal Willis, Mr. Luck.”
“Oh,” Luck blurted, “like the town?”
Racheal nodded her head.
“Are you the daughter or granddaughter of the namesake?”
“Wife.”
“Oh,” Luck blurted again, this time quietly. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Willis.”
“Why sorry?”
“You look so young; I assume you’re not even 20 years old. And I’m assuming the namesake is an older man?”
Racheal nodded.
“Sounds like a shit deal to me. Doubt that’s something you’re happy with. Again, just an assumption.”
Racheal stared at Luck quietly. Her eyes slightly darted back and forth as if she was searching for something. “An accurate assumption, I suppose.” She said, pulling her gaze away and putting it back on the factory. “You kill people, don’t you, Mr. Luck?”
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Luck slouched his shoulders a bit, “An accurate assumption, I suppose.”
“Do you kill for money?”
“No.”
“Then why do you kill?”
“To protect myself. To protect others.”
“Can you kill me to protect me?”
Her words cut through Luck like a knife across his heart. He looked at Racheal Willis and wondered why she would ask that. “No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, Mr. Luck. I just thought I’d ask, seeing as you’re a stranger here with no ties to me or this town.” Racheal turned back to him and raised her eyebrows at the saddle he was carrying, “do you need a horse?”
“My horse, actually. Ran off sometime last night, and I tracked here. Know where I could maybe find her?”
“Her?”
“Yes. She’s got a wavy mane, shiny black coat, and she’s a big horse. A Friesian, to be exact. Responds to the name Wayward.”
“Can’t say I’ve seen it, but perhaps you can find her in the stables near the station. That’s usually where loose horses get taken. Does she often wander off like that?” Racheal started walking up the street.
Luck followed closely, adjusting the saddle on his tired shoulder, “back when I first got her, all the time. I used to have to go looking for her, but she was never too far. After a few weeks, she was still wandering away, but she started to return to me on her own. So, her not returning got me worried.”
“Let’s hope she’s in the stables.” Racheal waved a hand at some law bearers who tipped their bowler hats at her.
Luck faked a saddle adjustment to cover his face. Once they were far enough away, he peeked behind him and noticed that they had picked up some stragglers. Racheal continued leading the way and making conversation, as Luck now had an extra watchful eye out on his surroundings.
“Where are you from, Mr. Luck?”
“Tejas. It’s where my family home used to be until my family died. But I return to it every now and then.” The pair turned at what seemed the third and last main town road.
“I remember learning about the Tejas-Union Betrayal during the Manifest Wars.”
“Is that so,” Luck said. He looked at Racheal and used his peripherals to check on the stragglers. They were still on them. “What did you learn, Mrs. Willis?”
“I learned that the reason the Union lost was because Tejas flipped. Not to the side of the Free West, but to be independent; from them, the Free West, and the Kingdom of Mexico.”
“Most people just call it Mexico. But yeah, that’s what Union says.”
“You’re skeptical.”
Luck turned back to the road ahead. “Assume that when the Union declares something a fact, it’s usually not.”
“Interesting,” Racheal stopped in the middle of the road and turned to him, “Why do you keep looking around?”
Luck kept his head facing forward, noticing the different shops lining both sides of the road for the first time. “Just looking at everything this town might have to offer. Like a gen-goods store. I’m down a horse and low on provisions.”
“So, it has nothing to do with the Union Law Bearer’s following us?” She said, pointing at the men that were close behind.
Luck pulled her hand down a bit too forcibly, and she flinched. The law bearers rushed over with her reaction, hands on their weapons and shouting at Luck.
“Step away!” the ULB with a thick mustache said, putting a hand on Luck’s chest and pressing to push him away. Except Luck didn’t budge.
“Easy now, gentlemen, there’s no need to get physical.” Luck said, putting his free hand in the air.
“Funny you should say that after you lashed out at her.” The non-mustachioed ULB said. This one was young and appeared to be nervous.
“He didn’t lash out at me. He just pulled my hand down,” Racheal said, annoyed. This was the first time he heard actual emotion in her voice. Before then, all of her words had been monotone.
“And why would you need to do that, huh? Hiding something? You a thief? A swindler?” the mustachioed ULB gripped his pistol tighter and got closer to Luck.
“I’m just looking for my horse. It wandered off last night, and I don’t exactly have up-to-date Union Papers or her. I don’t want any trouble.” Luck could read on both men’s face’s that neither believed him.
“It’s true.” Racheal addressed the young ULB. “I remembered him from a few weeks back because he had a lovely black horse. When I saw him this morning looking lost without it – I knew I had to help. I’m taking him to the stables now.”
Both men eyed Racheal and Luck before giving each other looks and relaxing. The mustachioed man, however, kept a hand on his pistol.
“We’ll escort this man to stables then,” the mustachioed man then turned to Racheal, “I advise you to return home, Mrs. Willis.”
“Oh, I don’t mind coming with - ”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Willis, but I think it’s best you go back. I’m sure Mr. Willis would want to hear about this.” The mustachioed man waved to a pair of casually dressed men loading a wagon across the street. They walked over to the group, “boys, take Mrs. Willis back to the mansion, then return to your post.”
Shit. Luck thought to himself. He never considered that there could be plainclothed ULBs around. With that information, Luck felt even more unease. He gave the street another thorough look.
“What are you looking for?” The young ULB asked with gusto in his words.
“My horse.” Luck smiled, then turned to Racheal. The undercovers were escorting her back to the mansion while flanking both of her sides. She stopped to look back at Luck. He could see in her expression, not fear but pain. He mouthed the words thank you, and I’m sorry to her – and a faint smile grew across her lips.
“C’mon, scoundrel.” The mustachioed man poked Luck with a wooden baton. “This way to the stables.”
Luck followed as they continued down the road a little further until arriving at a broad path between two buildings that led to stables. This time, the young UBL poked him forward. Luck ambled, looking at his surrounding, now significantly more cautious than when he first walked into town.
They were at the threshold of the stable entrance. Luck looked around but saw no Wayward, only the stablehand who was standing near the entrance on the inside.
“I didn’t say stop,” the mustachioed man shoved the baton into Luck’s shoulder. “Frank, why don’t you close them doors.”
Luck heard a suppressed laugher as the stable doors closed. Darkness filled most of the stables, aside from the light that pierced through gaps in the planks.
“You can drop the saddle now – Maddox.”
Luck closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. He tossed the saddle to the side.
“Turn around. I want a good look at the face that’ll make us rich.”
Luck opened his eyes and turned around, putting his hands halfway up. He looked at the mustachioed man, who had a wide grin on his face.
“You know him, sir?” the young man asked.
“Oh yes. Aurelio Maddox. I saw his face plastered across every station on my way here from Philidelphia. You’re looking at the most wanted man in the Union.”
“What’d he do?” The young ULB asked. His voice was giddy with excitement.
“Ask him.”
The young man turned to Luck, “What’d you do?”
“Would you believe me if I said I did nothing?”
“Real funny, Maddox.” The mustachioed man slammed the baton across the left side of Luck's face sending him into a daze and stumbling backward. “Make sure the door stays closed, Frank, and you’ll get a piece of the pie!” The mustachioed man slammed his baton onto Luck’s shoulder. “There’s a good reward out for you, boy. But it’s a shame I’ve got orders to kill and burn you if our paths ever crossed. We’ll still get paid. Though it won’t be as much as the bounty.” The mustachioed man slammed the end of the baton into Luck’s gut, dropping him to his knees.
Luck coughed and spat out blood. The metallic taste lingered in his mouth.
“Go on, boy, have some while he’s still breathing.”
“Yes, sir!” The young ULB excitedly walked over to Luck with his baton.
Luck pulled himself up to his feet, just in time for the young ULB to slam his baton against Luck’s ribs. He stumbled to the side again but caught himself a stall door. This time, the young ULB took a swing at the side of Luck’s knee. He groaned with pain as he slammed a fist on the door. As much as it hurt, he kept himself upright. Luck knew they believed to have the upper hand, but he wanted them to think they were entirely in control. And then the right moment came.
“Break all his bones!” Frank, the stablehand, yelled.
“You gotta hit wide to cover more space, boy. I’ll show you.” The mustachioed ULB approached and swung the baton.
This time he slammed it across Luck’s back which hit hard against the metal of the sawed-off shotgun.
“The hell was that?”
“This,” with his left hand already up to his back and his right hand to his lower back, Luck spun on a heel. He released the sawed-off shotgun first, pushed it up against the mustachioed man’s mustache, and pulled the first trigger.
The pellets shattered the man's skull, sending blood, chunks of flesh, bone, and brain flying back. Some of it spraying half of Luck’s face. The body collapsed where it stood. The only thing that remained of the head was the bottom half of the jaw, which hung on by a piece of flesh.
The young ULB’s face was covered in his partner's exploded head. His eyes were wide with shock. His body shook, and his voice cracked as the fear inside tried to escape.
Luck stood upright and aimed at his pistol. The young ULB still couldn’t speak, but he put a hand up, and Luck pulled the trigger. As his body fell backward, Luck’s attention shifted to Frank, who was scurrying to open a stable door.
“What’s the matter, Frank? Don’t you want a piece of the pie?” Luck fired a .38 round into the back of Frank’s knee.
Frank shrieked in pain, “Wait, just wait.”
“Wait for what, Frank?” Luck slowly walked to the bleeding man.
“I ain’t ever seen you.” He said with a hand up. “Please! I’ll say it was bandits.”
Luck shot a bullet through the man’s hand into his shoulder. “Not good enough, Frank.”
“Wait! Wait!” he cried. “Please, I beg of you.” Frank groveled at Luck's feet.
“Alright, alright. Just stop already.” Luck pulled his feet away.
Frank looked up. He had snot running down his nose and tears trailing down the side of his face. “Oh, thank you! Thank you!”
“For what?” Frank, the stablehand, fell back, his hands at his through trying to staunch the bleeding. Another bullet found a home in Franks's body with a final trigger pull. Luck had aimed down at his throat to have the round dig down and not fly out.
Luck looked out the stable doors and from the road where he came; Wayward appeared in a full gallop before skidding and stopping nearby. “Time to move, girl. And don’t give me any sass.”
Tucking his weapons away, Luck crudely tossed the saddle onto Waywards back and left through the other end of the stables. Emerging across from a train station, he took in his surroundings, kicked his heels, and held on to the mane. Wayward took off in full gallop going west, past the train station until he left the town. From behind, he could hear shouts and bells ringing, but he kept his focus on the way ahead, only ever looking back to make sure no one was chasing him.