Some Mood Music
Late Afternoon, April 11th, 1879. On The Road to Blackthorn, Texas. Good Friday.
It's been a long and dusty trail from Victoria. The wind whips dark clouds over the sky, and it has started to rain. It's not bad yet, but the pair of riders on the trail shiver at the cold nonetheless.
quote:
"Places you can get away from it all?" The stranger with the monocle had said at the Rusty Cage in Victoria. "I know a place like that. Let's share a drink, friend."
One of the riders wears fancy duds, the sort of ostentatious wear that speaks of much money but little taste. He has a wide-brimmed hat, a fringed black leather jacket festooned with spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts, and more of the same on his shiny black leather pants. A shiny silver Peacemaker rests in a tooled leather holster at his side, and on his weathered face is a pretentious monocle.
The other rider's clothes are well-worn and too warm for the climate around here - denoting him as foreign in these parts (though he's glad to have them in this ugly rain). He's heeled, the holster and gun in much better condition than his coat. He has a haunted, tired look about him, his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings and he rarely seems relaxed.
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"I know of this place." the monocled stranger said as he poured the whiskey. "Little town about twenty, thirty miles from here by the name of Blackthorn. Used to be a boomtown, pulling silver like it was nothing. Then the mine closed and it dried up. It's a cow town now, and a struggling one at that. Hell, it ain't even on the latest maps no more. You want a place to go to ground, where no one will bother you? Blackthorn's the place. Nothing ever happens in Blackthorn."
The monocled rider reigns in his horse.
"Whoa, there." He says, then points to the horizon.
"Look over there. You can see the buildings from here. Ain't it just the saddest little piece of shit in this whole wide world?" He grins.
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"Tell you what," He said. "I'm heading out that way myself. Got some business that needs tending. If you want a place to lay low and hide from your troubles, I'll lead you there. In exchange, I'll introduce you to some friends of mine who could use a quick hand with a gun."
Thunder rumbles across the plains as the pair stare down at the collection of ramshackle hovels on the horizon.
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"Oh, I'd put that piece away if I were you." The monocled man said with a grin, the barrel of his pistol resting on William's gun hand and pinning it to his holster. "And I'd urge you to reconsider my offer. I've heard of you, Billy Pierce. I know about that trouble in Dodge City. You wouldn't want them to extradite you back across the border, now, would you? I thought not. I can help, 'cause I'm a giving soul. You come with me, and I'll treat you right. Could very well be lucrative, too. What do you say?"
And here they were, at the ass end of nowhere, right next to a dead tree.
"I'm going to visit a friend of mine, pay my respects." The monocled man says to William, dropping off his horse.
"You wait right here for a spell. Don't go ridin' off...I'd hate having to track you down."