Blood Drive

Episode 1: Bad Times on the Goodnight

Based the Deadlands campaign by John Goff. Adapted by Andrew Roberts. Characters and

Setting by Pinnacle Entertainment and Great White Games.

The year is 1879, and the history is not our own. After almost two decades of bitter

fighting, the American Civil War has ground to a standstill. The Confederate States are still

free. California has fallen into the Pacific Ocean. Rail Barons fight bloody battles to decide

who the victor will be in the race for a transcontinental railroad, while a super fuel called

ghost rock advances technology by unpredictable leaps and sometimes dangerous bounds.

The Sioux have retaken the Dakotas and the Coyote Confederation dances the Ghost Dance

on the High Plains. Some even say the dead walk among us…

Chapter 1 – Sutter’s Flats

Texas, Confederate States of America – March 1879 Calm spring weather was prevalent across the low, grassy hills of South-Western Texas.

The occasional cottonwood tree could be seen dotting the landscapes in addition to the

longhorn herds of varying size. This was cattle country after all. A single railroad ran

across the plains from San Antonio as far as the Mojave Desert, owned and operated by

the Bayou Vermilion railroad company from New Orleans. Topping the landscape was

Sutter’s Flats, a settlement merely ten miles away from the Mexican border. While Sutter’s

Flats was referred to as a town, it was simply a stop-off for local ranchers, containing

nothing more than a livery, Frank Pettinger’s General Store, and The Lonely Crow – a

watering hole for ranch hands.

Around mid-day, the settlement was visited by five new faces, all with varying motives.

First to come was a lone drifter who could have been considered a fallen angel by her

appearance: a beautiful woman in black trail clothes, including a black duster; a long

hairstyle blowing in the breeze from under her black Stetson; riding a black mare. As she

hitched the mare on the post outside the Lonely Crow, she noticed another person

entering the town: A portly fellow in a priest’s tunic with a white bundle slung over his

shoulders. He was on foot, using an axe handle as a makeshift walking stick while leading

a rather stubborn Appaloosa to the hitching post. The woman helped take the Appaloosa’s

reins and hitched her while the priest adjusted the bundle on his shoulders.

“God bless you madam.” He said.

“Gabriella Vasquez.” The woman introduced, “And this is Mina.” She gestured towards her

mare. “I’m looking for some place to lie low.”

“I’m Father Sam Johnson.” The priest replied. “You seem repentant, helping a tired priest

with Charity. She always wants her way.”

“That sounds like me.” Gabriella remarked, “Repentant or not repentant, I’m still wanted.”

“Well, this place seems as low as you can lie.” A voice said behind her with a Cajun

accent, not too common in the Southwest. The pair turned to see a man in fancy suit with

a top hat and pince-nez arriving on horseback.

“Shady Doug Liveaux, at your service.” He said, tipping his hat. “And my horse is named

Baron. I’m looking for places with good card joints after an outstayed welcome in the Big

Easy.”

“Well, you won’t find it here.” Gabriela replied, walking into the Lonely Crow.

Only a handful of clients were sitting in the saloon. They stared at in the trio as they

ordered drinks at the bar – diluted whiskey or tequila. As they sat, two more strangers

arrived in town: an Indian of athletic build, dressed in hide clothing and riding a horse

bareback or at least with a blanket and buckskin saddlebags. Not too far behind him was a

bald man in a surgeon’s uniform and welding goggles with a bizarre contraption on his

back. As they entered the saloon, the Indian looked at the contraption with curiosity. The

backpack looked like it powered a somewhat sinister looking weapon that resembled a

glowing umbrella attached to a blunderbuss.

“It’s an Aetheric Static Compressor of my own invention.” The man said, almost to himself.

“I wouldn’t get too close to it. This thing could take down one of those large monsters that

are said to roam these places.”

Everyone else in the saloon stared at the man with a feeling of unease. He spoke with a

Brooklyn accent, but he didn’t sound very sane. “I’m Dr Lightning by the way.” He quickly

added. It didn’t help to ease the tensions.

“And my people called me Plays With Fire.” The Indian said bluntly, “I am interested in how

you developed a machine like that.”

“That’s a trade secret!” Dr Lightning hissed.

About five minutes later, a grizzled man with a rangy physique and horseshoe moustache

entered the bar. “Howdy!” he said with a deep and resonant voice, “My name’s Bill Sutter. I

know most everyone hereabouts and I didn’t recognise you, so I wanted to say ‘Welcome

to Sutter’s Flats.’ Just to clear things up, the town’s named after my daddy. He was the

first settler in this area, but that’s as far as my connection goes.”

The five newcomers looked on with piqued interest.

“Aw, Hell. I ain’t good at small talk.” Sutter continued, “I’m gettin’ ready to pull up stakes

and I’m lookin’ for some extra hands. Bayou Vermilion has got a stranglehold on the cattle

trade ‘round these parts, due to being the only railroad within hundreds of miles, and

calling the prices they offer ‘highway robbery’ is an insult to bandits. That bein’ the case,

I’m gonna take my herd and leave, so to speak.”

“What exactly are you looking for?” Shady Doug asked.

“I’ve got a solid crew, but I’m shy a few.” Sutter explained, “I’m lookin’ for experienced trail

riders, but I’ll settle for anybody who knows which end of a gun the bullet comes out of. But

pickin’s is gettin’ slim and I want to get on the trail before we get too far into spring, so if I

can’t get that, I’ll make do with breathin’.”

“What’s your interest in us?”

“Nobody comes to Sutter’s Flats if they’ve got anywhere else to be, so I figured I’d make

you the offer.”

“Where are you planning on selling?” Gabriella asked.

“I’m gonna head north.” Sutter proposed, “The best bet is the Confederate base at

Roswell. If that doesn’t work out, I’ll take it to Denver. I’ve ridden the Goodnight-Loving

Trail before, so I’ll follow it. Denver’s a good bet because of the three major railroads.”

“The journey to Denver is sure to be long and dangerous.” Father Sam warned, “Surely

there are closer places like Dodge City. I believe that Peacetown has quite the meat

market.”

“I admire your thoughts, Reverend.” Sutter commented, “But I’m not too keen on Dodge.

Disregarding the problems with buffalo hunters and partisans, most ranchers have been

herding up there and have gone and stagnated the market.”

“I’m in!” Dr Lightning said enthusiastically. “I’m sure we’ll encounter some target practise.”

“You’re overconfident aren’t you?” Gabriella observed, “However, I’m kinda broke, so you

can count me in too.”

“I’m eager to see the doctor’s technology at work.” Plays With Fire mentioned. “I’ll join too.”

“There’s bound to be some weirdness on the journey, so I’ll come along.” Shady Doug

volunteered.

“I swore an oath to protect the innocent, so I’ll join you.” Father Sam vowed, amidst

sniggers from the others.

“Much appreciated, folks.” Sutter remarked happily, “The pay’s $30 a month, plus meals

and boards in my bunkhouse before the drive starts, and I’ll throw in a string of five horses

if needed.”

“Surely the Lord will favour greater generosity.” Father Sam persuaded, “These people

may need it for their travels.”

“You’re right there, Pilgrim.” Sutter pondered, “Alright, $35 a month. The drive will be a

month or two, plus a month finishing the round-up before heading out, but I’m hoping to cut

that short. You’ll find me at the Lazy S Ranch, just west of here. You can start tomorrow

morning.”

Sutter turned around and left the saloon. Watching him leave, Gabriella noticed that he

had a very slight limp. “I got that in Atlanta in ’64.” Sutter explained as he noticed their

observations. “I was in the Army of Tennessee.”

Chapter 2 – Round Up After a meal at the Lonely Crow consisting of coffee and a plate of beans, the group rode

to the Lazy S Ranch. Ranch hands were either gathering stray cattle or horses, branding,

or collecting gear. The ranch hands included a balance of race and gender. A large

number of ranch hands were black, as racism had been disregarded in the years that

followed the Confederate Government’s emancipation bill that was passed in 1865 in

exchange for foreign support in the war. There were a lot of Mexican workers too, mainly

because of the ranch’s proximity to the border. Upon arrival, the newcomers were directed

to the bunkhouse by Sutter. Waiting at the door was a leathery old cowboy with the looks

of someone who’s been on drives for most of his life.

“You’d better enjoy your downtime while it lasts, folks.” He warned, “The round up is

rougher than the actual drives most of the time.”

“This here’s Luke Canton.” Sutter explained, “He’s my most trusted ranch hand. I want to

be hitting the trail as soon as, so you’ll be working six-and-a-half days a week, possibly

throughout some entire nights. You’ll get Sunday mornings off to hear the circuit

preacher’s sermon at the Lonely Crow, if you feel the call that is. Chances are you’ll use it

to sleep in like everyone else. Trust me; you’ll need with the coming work weeks,

particularly if you like the Saturday night cards and whiskey.”

With that, the pair left to continue with other duties, leaving the newcomers to loiter in the

bunkhouse. Shady Doug reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards.

“Anyone interested?” he asked as he began to shuffle. The others shook their heads.

“I don’t have much money, and I’m not prepared to wager my secrets.” Dr Lightning said

sternly.

“You could wager your horse.” Shady Doug replied, “I have no interest in scientific

methods. Not since I flunked medicine.”

“I’m not wagering my horse against a card sharp either. Besides, Bolt is too cowardly to be

of any use to you.”

“Why did you buy a horse if it’s yellow?”

“He was cheap, and I’d spent most of my money on tools to build my creations. And ways

to keep thieves away from my designs.”

As night fell, most of the other ranch hands had turned in for the night, having come back

from the standard night patrol. Shady Doug was already fast asleep, while Dr Lightning

was mumbling to himself about his inventions. Father Sam was saying a short prayer while

Gabriella was staring at the ceiling of the bunkhouse. Plays sat outside, not really

comfortable with being around the others on the ranch. He was Arapaho, and they weren’t.

The following morning, the newcomers were brought together by Sutter.

“OK folks,” he said, “It’s time for you to prove yourselves. I’ve got a relatively tame job

lined up for you, but you can expect some bruises. For the past couple weeks, we’ve been

rounding up a few wild horses to serve as backups for the drive. I want you to help Luke

break a few.”

Luke was waiting for the newcomers at the corral with six horses. He handed them lariats.

“Since you’re all new meat, I’ll let you do the work yourself.” He told them, “Just watch out

for Devil Eyes.”

He indicated a large coal-black mare. “We picked her up near the border. None of us have

managed to break her so far. She has a lot of fun tossing riders who try.”

Gabriella entered the corral first, throwing the lariat around the neck of one the mustangs.

The horse reared wildly as Gabriella leapt onto its back, but she remained on. It continued

bucking, but Gabriella would not be thrown. Exhausted, it made no resistance as Gabriella

dismounted and affixed the saddle.

Plays also met with success. He efficiently roped and mounted the next horse, breaking it

in a matter of moments. Father Sam prepared to enter the corral, getting down onto his

knees to pray. Canton looked bewildered, but said nothing. Entering the corral, Sam roped

the third horse. As it reared, he spoke loudly. “Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder:

the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet!”

The mustang immediately stopped struggling and moved towards him, making no

resistance as he saddled it. Canton and the others were impressed.

“I’ve heard many a campfire tale about folks who could call for divine intervention.” Canton

said, “I never really believed I’d actually see one with my own eyes.”

“I left the factories of Deseret to work for the Lord.” Father Sam replied, “He certainly

works in mysterious ways.”

He turned to Shady Doug and Dr Lightning. “It’s your turn.” He said, “Let’s see if a pair of

city slickers like you can break mustangs.”

Doug entered the corral. While Canton believed Doug was no horse-breaker, his doubts

were surpassed by the gambler’s luck. Dr Lightning soon followed. He roped the final

mustang, but as he mounted, it threw him off. Dusting himself down, he tried again, this

time with more success.

As the horses were led back the stables, Plays With Fire remained in the corral. He

readied his lariat and approached Devil Eyes. Canton hollered to several other cowboys.

“Is that Injun gonna try and break Devil Eyes?” One of them asked. They jeered as the

mare was roped. Plays mounted. The mare threw him off, prompting the spectators to

burst out laughing. Unphased, he got up and mounted again, staying on for longer. Devil

Eyes continued to buck wildly. The Arapaho would not be thrown a second time. He

managed to tire out the mare, so she didn’t struggle as he saddled her and led her back to

the stable. As he left, the onlookers applauded. Sutter came over to investigate the

commotion.

“What’s going on here?” He asked sternly.

“That Injun fella just managed to break Devil Eyes!” Canton told him. Sutter beamed

triumphantly.

“Son, nobody on this ranch has ever broken Devil Eyes.” He said, “As a token of

appreciation, I’m gonna let you keep her as your own mount.”

The other cowboys applauded Plays, crowding around to shake his hand.

As things calmed down, Sutter approached the group. “OK,” he said, “You’ve proved to me

that you’ve got what it takes. Now I need you to find some lost cattle. These longhorns

have a tendency to roam far away from the ranch during the winter. We’ve been combing

the wilds for weeks now, and we’ve located most of the stragglers, but a few are still

unaccounted for.”

“Where should we start looking?” Shady Doug asked.

“I need you to concentrate your efforts to the southwest of the ranch, near the Rio Grande.

The cows tend to congregate at the water, but the crew ain’t found too many along the

shore. I reckon they’re probably millin’ about in a box canyon the men overlooked.”

Not long afterwards, the five companions were riding out. Plays With Fire was allowing

Devil Eyes to recuperate, and elected to perform the search on his own horse, Warrior.

Both he and Gabriella were better trackers, so they were providing most of the legwork.

“Any tracks are likely to be more than a day old.” Plays warned.

“Why do they call you Plays anyway?” Shady Doug asked.

“My tribe are followers of the Old Ways.” The brave explained.

“The Old Ways?” Gabriella queried, “I’ve heard that a lot, but what exactly is it?”

“Fifteen years ago, a great change came over this land. Many shamans believed that it

was the work of evil spirits punishing us for adopting the White Man’s polluted ways.”

“So, it’s forbidden to use guns?” Father Sam probed.

“No guns, no modern conveyances, no manufactured tools.” Plays told him, “There is a

rumour of a secret rebellion called the Order of the Raven who abandon the Old Ways and

use the White Man’s technology against them.”

“Do you follow the Old Ways?”

“I try to, only because I believe it’s the right thing to do. But I must confess that I find the

technology fascinating. How is it that the Palefaces developed these steaming

locomotives, clanking machinery and rotating guns that spit metal storms of death? Our

shaman gave me my name, and sent me from the Coyote Confederation to the rest of the

world. He believed that seeing the dangers of technology would satisfy my curiosity.”

He walked Warrior on, seeking out the cattle’s trail.

The day went on. The group had managed to locate four stray longhorns. The second day

was not so successful. After finding two steers they had found caught in some scrub late in

the afternoon, they elected to head back to the Lazy S Ranch. As they passed through a

small cottonwood grove near the river, the riders were still observant. Although others

didn’t see anything, Plays caught an unnerving sight: Several desiccated longhorns were

scattered throughout the grove. Out of the ground next to one of the steers burst a hairy

black spider nearly the size of a man. The repulsive critter latched onto the steer, which

screamed piteously as it lost its footing and fell over onto its side. At the same time,

another steer broke through the ground and dropped into a small pit. Hundreds of smaller

spiders swarmed out, flowing over the thrashing cattle and out onto the ground.

The other riders were unable to act, preoccupied with keeping their seats and controlling

their horses. Fortunately, the spiders weren’t taking any notice of them, satisfied with the

prey they’d caught. Plays, having already spotted the carcasses in the grove, had got

Warrior under control. He dismounted and drew his tomahawk, approaching the large

spider. As he moved, a second large spider burst out from the ground. Fortunately, Plays

had already spotted the trapdoor and moved out of the way. He swung the tomahawk into

the spider’s thorax. It scurried back, while the second spider moved to engage him and the

swarm flowed off the trapped longhorn.

After keeping Mina under control, Gabriella drew a Colt Peacemaker from her holster and

fired a shot. The spider dropped dead before it could spring. As it fell, Gabriella noticed the

markings on the creature’s sac which resembled a human skull. Father Sam had also

dismounted, and was fending off the wounded spider with his axe handle. He drove it into

the thorax and twisted it. The spider immediately slumped to the ground. At the same time,

Plays was stomping on the swarm as it tried to engulf him. The spiders all scattered and

returned to the holes.

Shady Doug and Father Sam examined the steers. They were slightly worse for wear, but

they had survived.

“I’ve heard a couple of tales about those things.” Shady Doug said, “They’re supposed to

be a sub-species of tarantula, which plague the Southwest. Most frontiersmen call them

‘terrantulas’ because of the skull markings.”

“They are most definitely not from this earth.” Father Sam stated gravely.

As they talked, Gabriella and Plays were searching the grove. There were over a dozen

drained longhorn carcasses, along with a few deer and smaller animals.

“How did the Sutter’s crew miss that?” Dr Lightning asked.

“The best guess is that they didn’t scrutinise the groves much.” Gabriella deduced, “These

carcasses were so desiccated that they could only be seen inside the grove.”

Chapter 3 – An Unwelcome Visit After two more days of searching, the party rode back to the ranch, slightly fatigued from

spending most of the daytime in the saddle. It was early evening as they arrived, only to

see another group of riders approaching the ranch. Seven mean-looking gunmen were

following a gentleman in an elegant suit, who carried a silver Colt Peacemaker in his

holster. Riding to one side of them was a middle-aged Indian wearing a threadbare

Confederate field jacket decorated with a variety of bangles and tribal fetishes. They took

no notice of the returning party.

“Sutter!” The man in the suit called. Almost immediately, Sutter appeared at the door to the

ranch house. He was carrying a shotgun, pointed at the ground in the direction of the new

visitors.

“Good day to you, Mr Sutter.” The sharply-dressed man said, “My name is Bartholomew

Phelps and I’m here as a representative of Bayou Vermilion. I’m authorised to purchase

your cattle at the agreed-upon price of $5 per head.”

Sutter was not amused. “Like I told them other fellers from your railroad, you can pound

sand. That ain’t half what they’re worth on the open market!” He snapped.

“Ah, but this isn’t an open market.” Phelps said, “I understand no one hereabouts will

purchase cattle with your brand and I’m afraid my employer’s stock cars are booked up for

the foreseeable future. I’d recommend you take the offer before prices drop further.”

“Prices ain’t the only thing about to be droppin’ around here if’n you and your lot don’t head

out – pronto!” Sutter growled as he thumbed back both hammers on his shotgun.

Phelps looked around at the growing crowd of ranch hands that drew to the argument. He

was outnumbered. He tipped his hat and led the gang out. The Indian gave Sutter a hard

stare before a left.

“Who was that Indian?” Shady Doug asked, “He looked like he knew you.”

Sutter propped the shotgun against his porch. “His name’s Black Dog.” He explained,

“He’s an old Comanche raider from hereabouts and me and him got a little history. I was

part of the posse who ran him to ground back in ’73.”

“Surely he would have been hanged.” Gabriella pondered.

“I thought that too.” Sutter returned, “I heard he signed on with the Confederacy for

clemency, but they cut him loose before too long. No doubt Vermilion hired him on ‘cause

he knows the area…and ain’t likely to balk at pointin’ the business end of a gun at any of

the locals.”

Later that evening, the majority of the ranch had gathered for dinner. Sutter stood at the

table for an address: “I don’t trust those Vermilion varmints as far as I can throw myself. I

figure if we sit too long, they’ll cut our herd – or worse. I’m gatherin’ what we’ve got on

hand and headin’ north in three days.”

There was a series of mutterings at the decision – it was much sooner than anyone had

expected. Sutter lifted his hand for silence again. “I know what you’re all thinking, but that’s

how it goes. I have spent years building this ranch. We have faced Comanches. We have

faced outlaws from across the Mexican border. We’ve faced…things…which still give

many of us nightmares, me included. I’m not about to roll over and die because some city

slicker in New Orleans has taken a liking to my herd.” He proclaimed. The other ranchers

cheered him on.

Morning came. While Gabriella and Dr Lightning were fresh and ready, the others were

fatigued from the exertion of the previous days’ work. They were brought together by

Sutter, who was accompanied by a redheaded girl no older than eighteen.

“This here’s my niece, Abby Morton.” Sutter explained, “I’m sending her to Sutter’s Flats

with a buckboard to pick up the last of the supplies. I want you all to help her with the

loading.”

As Abby left to prepare the buckboard, Sutter lowered his voice. “I want you to keep a

close eye on Abby more than anything else. She’s relatively new to the saddle, and I’m not

ready to trust her with any matters of real importance just yet.” He explained, “On top of

that, I want to make sure that she doesn’t run into any trouble with Bayou Vermilion on the

way. I’m not expecting any trouble, but I’m not taking any chances.”

The journey to Sutter’s Flats was uneventful. “What brought you to Sutter?” Shady Doug

asked as they rode along the trail.

“I was originally from Jackson.” Abby replied, “I lost my parents less than a year ago during

a cholera outbreak. So I came down here to live with Uncle Bill.”

“You have our sincere condolences.” Father Sam said solemnly, “Has it been hard?”

“Well, I’m trying to adapt. Uncle Bill’s not really raised young women before. He’s been

treating me as a slightly favoured ranch hand, but if it helps me learn, I’ll take it.”

As the group arrived at Sutter’s Flats, Abby produced a list of supplies and prepared to

head into the general store.

“Plays, you’re a man of good build.” She said, “Not mention a good horse breaker. Would

you care to help me carry?”

Plays nodded and followed her inside. “Let me help you too.” Father Sam added, joining

them.

“Thank you, Reverend.” Abby replied. The trio entered Pettinger’s Supply. Gabriella,

Shady Doug, and Dr Lightning remained outside standing idle. Five minutes later, they

noticed the gunmen from the previous day converging on their position. They were armed

with Colt Peacemakers and Winchester rifles, and had the store surrounded. Bartholomew

Phelps approached the three waiting outside.

“I commend you on your stubbornness, if not your common sense.” He said with a

mocking tone, “Most would have cleared out ahead of the storm that is coming. Instead,

you chose to leave the Lazy S where you held, at least for the moment, a numerical

advantage.”

Gabriella felt herself inching for her Peacemaker. One of the gunmen noticed her and

raised his revolver. “Not so fast, Vendetta.” He said.

“Hey!” Another called out, “You’re Vendetta Vasquez, that Tennessee gunslinger with a

vengeful streak wider than the Colorado river.”

“Hell, it is too!” a third man said, “The one who killed that sheriff in Donner Pass in the

winter!”

Phelps listened to the conversation with intrigue. “I see you have a reputation.” He said,

“Well, I’m calling you out. Right here, right now.”

Everyone fell silent as Gabriella stood to face Phelps. Nobody spoke. They stood back to

back and walked six paces, turning to face each other.

“Come on girl!” Phelps shouted cockily, “You probably shot that sheriff in the back. Let’s

see you shoot someone in the front!”

Gabriella said nothing. She simply looked Phelps in the eyes. Phelps was taken aback by

her steely stare. He was unnerved, but he didn’t want to show it. The fear-filled seconds

felt like minutes. Finally, Gabriella spoke: “Draw.”

They both reached for their guns simultaneously. Phelps was shaking as he drew. While

he was quick on the draw, he was intimidated by Gabriella’s hard stare. He took aim. In a

flash, Gabriella fired. The bullet caught Phelps between the eyes. He was dead before he

hit the floor. Father Sam heard the shot from within the store. He stepped outside, holding

his bundle in his arms, unwrapping it to reveal a battered but mean-looking Gatling

shotgun. The other gunmen scattered and ran.

Chapter 4 – Head ‘Em Up “After the dust-up at Pettinger’s Supply, I want to be getting on the trail sooner.” Sutter told

everybody the next day, “We’ll spend today making our final preparations for the herd. I

want everyone keeping close to the ranch.”

The five friends helped the others rope steers and round up the herd.

“What exactly happened in Donner Pass?” Shady Doug asked Gabriella.

“I thought curiosity killed the cat.” She replied.

Work continued into dusk. Shady Doug was just narrowly able to remain awake during the

standard two hours spent riding the edges of the herd. He hoped things would be slightly

easier when they moved out.

Morning broke. When everyone was assembled, Sutter was busy assigning everybody to

positions on the herd. Luke Canton, as always, was serving as the trail boss. His duty was

to find the best trail for the herd, and to ride out ahead to locate watering holes and

campsites. This was an important position of power and responsibility, and Canton was

well suited to it, as he knew the route better than anybody. There were fourteen other

cowboys employed on the drive. Sutter appointed the most seasoned of them as the point

riders. Point riding was one of the most coveted positions on a drive, riding at the head of

the herd to keep the lead steers heading in the right direction and keeping the pace of the

drive. The next few cowboys were designated as swing riders, positioned a third of the

way back along the herd to keep things moving. Flank riders were positioned two thirds of

the way back, to wrangle the cattle that drifted off to one side of the main body.

Abby Morton was assigned to tend to the remuda, the crew’s spare horses. All the trail

hands had a string of five horses, some of which served various duties. With everyone

participating, she found herself tending over a hundred mounts. She kept them close to the

crew’s chuck wagon. The wagon itself was tended by Javier Ortega, a former Mexican

soldier who’d signed on as the crew’s cook. He was proud of his position, and guarded it

closely. His wagon carried the foodstuffs, along with the more bulky gear, including

bedrolls and tarpaulins, a water barrel, and an upright cabinet affixed to the rear of the

wagon. While he was exempt from night watch, his day was still long: he had to be up

early to prepare a hot breakfast and he was always the last person to bed down for the

night. His final duty was to point the wagon’s tongue towards the North Star, orienting the

herd the next day if the morning sky was overcast.

The five drifters waited as everyone was assigned to their posts. Finally, Sutter

approached them.

“As you’re the least experienced trail hands on my ranch, I’m assigning you to ride drag.”

He instructed, “You’ll be riding behind the herd, picking up any stragglers and driving the

slower cattle at the herd’s pace. I’ll warn you that it ain’t pleasant.”

The friends looked at each other and shrugged. “There is one other thing though.” Sutter

continued, “There’s a risk of attack by Indian raiders, rustlers, and outlaws. Most often than

not, they’ll try to strike the herd from behind, because they can get in and back out before

anyone else realises they’re under attack. My boys know cattle, but they’re not exactly

seasoned gunhands. That is why I hired you after all.”

With that, he turned his horse and rode back to the front.

The first few days of the drive were relatively quiet. The friends found their position a tough

one, having to spend the greater part of the day breathing the dust and flatulence of 1500

Texas longhorns. At the end of the day, the drag riders were always greeted by the sight of

a small camp set up by Ortega, who always rode ahead in time to prepare dinner. His

chuck wagon was always a bizarre sight when set up: The cabinet affixed to the back of

the wagon was a rolling kitchen. It’s hinged lid would let down to form a work table, which

in turn exposed an array of draws and cubbies that held everything from salt and lard to

tobacco and castor oil. Underneath the wagon was the ‘boot’ – another box which held the

skillets, pots and pans, along with Ortega’s prized Dutch oven. Ortega never let anyone

near the wagon without his permission or his close supervision. Plays almost learned that

the hard way. Fortunately, Ortega, like the others, had come to respect him ever since he

tamed Devil Eyes. Around the same time Ortega was setting up, Abby would be tying off

the remuda in a rope corral near the campsite.

Three days out of the Lazy S, the party had been spending most of their time figuring out

what they were supposed to be doing apart from swatting flies and learning to breathe

dust. Despite the occasional stray cattle or frisky horse, the days had been relatively quiet.

As they arrived at the camp, they were saddle sore as Ortega distributed a hot meal of

pork and beans.

“Sutter and Canton have ridden ahead.” He explained, “They’ve gone to scout out the next

watering hole, but they won’t be back until the next morning.”

As they ate, the other trail hands attempted to strike up conversation.

“What led you folks here anyhow?” One of the cowboys asked.

Gabriella stared into the campfire for a while. “I’m from Tennessee. I used to work for

Black River.” She said with a beat. “I was just a hired gun on $15 a month. As time

passed, I was having trouble stomaching some of the things I was made to do. The Battle

of the Cauldron was the final straw. It was a senseless waste of human life. I split.”

“You were at the Cauldron?”

“No, I deserted before then. It was pathetic. The dead piled up like cordwood. Mina Devlin

didn’t even have any interest there. She just thought the others were up to something.”

The Battle of the Cauldron was a series of multisided skirmishes between the rail barons

which took place near the Rocky Mountains from September to October in 1876. It was

ultimately Union Blue who held the field, and had the predominant interest in the region –

protecting trains operated by their allies in the Denver-Pacific Railroad. Skirmishes began

when rail gangs from the Iron Dragon Company entered the region in search of an

unknown item of interest. Once that started, the battles were joined by Dixie Rails, Bayou

Vermilion, Black River and Wasatch. As they believed the others had their own motives,

the rail barons did not leave too soon. By the winter, the battle had resulted in three

hundred dead, more than two thousand wounded, and half a million dollars’ worth of rolling

stock destroyed.

The other cowboys shuddered at Gabriella’s tale. “It’s always the damn trains. What’s the

point in these Rail Wars anyhow?”

“I don’t know.” Gabriella said, “They all say it’s because of ghost rock. Whoever builds a

transcontinental railroad walks home with shiny new government contract to ship ghost

rock. And that will result in the Civil War starting up again. Nobody wants a war.

Personally, I’d sooner have so Wasatch wins the war.”

The other campers stared at her in bewilderment. “You want Professor Hellstromme

shipping ghost rock? He may hoard it in Deseret!”

“Exactly. Hellstromme’s track runs through the Disputed Territories, so he can accept

shipping contracts from the USA and the CSA. That means that neither side will have the

advantage, so the war is less likely to kick off again.”

Father Sam was not swayed by the theory. When asked, he remained quiet.

It was midnight. Gabriella and Plays were on night watch at the camp, while four cowboys

were away from the camp riding the edges of the herd. They noticed several shapes

moving towards the camp. Black Dog was leading a night attack. He was accompanied by

a force of 21 gunslingers. Most of them were locally-hired outlaws, but seven of them were

the railroad company’s elite troopers.

Gabriella had already drawn her Peacemaker and fired at shot at one of the gunslingers.

The round entered his chest, but he was unphased. In the moonlight, she could see that

the gunslinger had decomposing features. She concentrated hard to keep her head. Plays

already had his bow prepared. He fired, hitting one of the regular gunmen. What followed

was chaos. Half the gunmen ran towards the herd shouting and firing into the air, causing

them to stampede. The rest attacked the main camp.

The other cowboys were up and ready now, firing at the attackers with revolvers and

repeaters. Father Sam was up and had his Gatling Shotgun primed. He fired a burst at two

of the reanimated gunmen. The hail of buckshot chewed them up. At the same time, Dr

Lightning was awake. He fired up his contraption, which began to hum as the small tesla

coils on his backpack began to glow. A burst of electrical energy emitted from the business

end, fatally electrocuting six of the attackers.

As the shootout continued, Black Dog was at the rear, chanting an incantation. His tribal

medicine caused seven cowboys to briefly glimpse into a spiritual world in an attempt to

induce fear, but they didn’t balk.

Shady Doug hadn’t managed to wake up in time to spot the bushwhackers, but he was

alert now. Abby was protecting the remuda with her Winchester while Javier was crouched

behind the chuck wagon with his shotgun. Several cowboys had broken away to calm the

herd. Doug tried to take cover while he focused on Black Dog. His only weapons were a

derringer and a knife, but he had other tricks up his sleeves. He concentrated hard. Two

pairs of shimmering cards materialised in his hands. Three of the cards glowed with

eldritch energy as he flung them at the gang. Two of the men were fatally hit by them,

while the third hit Black Dog. Wincing, he chanted another incantation, turning into a crow

and flying into the night. The remaining gunmen also fled, while the undead gunslingers

remained, only to be swiftly eliminated by the trail crew.

“That’ll teach those bastards.” Gabriella said, spitting on the ground. As Father Sam and

Shady Doug tended to the wounded, Gabriella and Plays helped recover any stray cattle.

Amazingly, none of the crew had been killed in the attack.

“I’m surprised at how well the others fought.” Doug commented.

“Well, we’re among the toughest hands at Lazy S.” One of the cowboys boasted, “Most of

the cowpunchers left when Sutter began to scrap with Vermilion. We’ve all stood by him

and fought off attacks by rustlers and outlaws, even Santa Anna’s troops. Baron LaCroix

ain’t gonna scare us with his freaky wizardry.”

“I doubt any of his men stay dead. I’m from New Orleans. Black magic and voodoo were

as common to life as gumbo. You can be sure that there’s something used to raise the

dead.”

Chapter 5 – A Long, Dry Spell After the Bayou Vermilion attack, the next two weeks were relatively peaceful. The drag

riders were slowly becoming acquainted to their duties. The land was starting to become

drier. Water sources were fewer and farther between.

“How did you do that card trick during the attack?” Abby queried as they camped down for

the night.

“It’s a special magic.” Shady Doug replied.

“So that’s why you came west.”

“My father was a doctor in the Big Easy. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but I was

more of a gambler than a sawbones. I spent more time reading cards and poker faces

than I did reading textbooks. My gambling passion brought to a copy of Edmond Hoyle’s

Book of Games.”

“Isn’t that just a book of card games?”

“Ostensibly. That’s what I thought. But I noticed unusual patterns among the bridge

diagrams, sample scores, and numeric codes written into card play examples. I brought

the book to some of the shady elements of New Orleans to have the patterns looked at. It

turned out that it was a book of arcane power. I had an argument with my parents over

‘declining morals’ and went west to learn about the powers.”

Sutter was walking past them as they talked.

“I wouldn’t spread that around here, dude.” He warned, “They often hang people for

witchcraft out here.”

He went on to address the crew. “OK folks,” he proclaimed, “Tomorrow we’ll be hittin’ a

desert region of the trail. It’s still springtime, so it won’t be the blast furnace it’ll be in the

summer months, but it’ll still be an unpleasant ride. We’ll reach the next watering hole

soon.”

The following morning, the crew arrived at the small watering hole Canton had discovered.

It was very close to being a mud pit. Ortega began to fill the water barrels on the chuck

wagon. Sutter once again turned to face the crew.

“There isn’t likely to be much water for the next couple weeks.” He warned, “While we

have enough water for the barrels on the chuck wagon, there isn’t enough for full rations.”

The crew drove the herd on, but the reduced water rations were beginning to take their toll.

The trail hands were perspiring constantly. Dehydration was begging to set in. Efforts

made to find water on the trail resulted in little more than collecting morning dew. After

three days, the Lazy S crew reached their next watering hole: a small well located on an

abandoned homestead and barn in the wilderness.

“That’s handy.” Canton remarked, “It means the cattle or horses won’t foul it by wadin’ in.”

“Don’t forget that we need to get enough water for the entire herd.” Sutter replied, “We’ll be

here for a while.” He turned to the others.

“We’ll be taking as much water as possible.” He informed them, “Javier, fetch some

buckets. We’ll work in shifts. I want you taking water or riding the fringes of the herd. Now

hop to it!”

The trail hands set themselves to work. The water level in the well was 50’ below the

surface, so drawing water was an arduous job which took the greater part of the day.

Those who weren’t lifting water were either riding the fringes of the herd, per Sutter’s

orders, or having a rest period.

As the drag riders were taking a break, Shady Doug was looking around the isolated

homestead. He felt something amiss. He knocked on the door to the farmhouse. No one

answered, but when he tried the door, he found it to be barred shut from the inside. He

couldn’t see inside, as the windows were shuttered, and shouting didn’t prompt any

response. Father Sam and Plays With Fire opened the door with a few well-placed

shoulder barges. Dr Lightning immediately entered the house, a large wrench grasped

tightly in his hands.

The interior of the house was covered by a layer of dust and was unmarred by any tracks

except for those of the five drifters. Two plates were set on a small table in the main room,

including the desiccated remains of an uneaten meal. There was no sign of any

inhabitants or what became of them.

“It looks as though this house has been abandoned for six months.” Gabriella deduced,

“Take a look around. Maybe there’s some stuff we can use.”

The house only contained two rooms, but everything seemed virtually untouched. A search

of the place revealed a small box of jewellery, a loaded but unfired Evans Old Model

Sporting rifle, and $32 in Confederate bills.

“We should leave this.” Father Sam warned.

“Spare us the sermon, padre.” Gabriella returned, “We don’t have much use for paper

money anyway, especially if we’re heading to Denver. However, I can make use of some

things here.”

She picked up the Evans and left the house. Shady Doug followed the others out, but not

before picking up the box of jewellery. “This could be worth at least $50.” He said.

Sutter was waiting for the group as they left. “It’s time for a shift change.” He said, “What

did you find?”

“Not much.” Gabriella reported, “The place has been abandoned for six months but the

doors were barred from the inside.”

“That doesn’t seem right. However, it ain’t my concern. This place is days from civilisation,

not to mention in Comanche territory. They could have raided the place.”

“Not really.” Plays interjected, “All the evidence we found indicates that no one has been

here in the past six months since the inhabitants left.”

“I’m not sure. I’ve seen enough out here to know that things can get weird at times. I try to

ignore the ghost stories. But while we’re here, we should search the barn for anything we

can use. After that, you’re on water duty.”

A search of the barn revealed the usual tools and accoutrements of a small farm, but there

were no animals, while the stalls were all closed and latched. The companions left to take

over collecting water. The day was long and tiresome, but the herd and the remuda were

able to satisfy their thirsts well. The Lazy S crew felt a feeling of comfort as they drank

their fill and refilled their canteens.

“There’s gonna be a change of plans.” Sutter informed everybody, “We’ll be travelling at

night for the next couple of days to reduce the effects of thirst on the herd. However, the

additional distance will mean reduced water for the next four days.”

As the crew continued along the trail, they were once again beset by a feeling of

constantly dry mouths. As they were travelling through the night, the drifters had a feeling

that they were being watched. Gabriella noticed something following them. It looked like a

coyote, shadowing the herd at a distance. She turned Mina to approach it and prepared

her Evans to take a shot. The coyote fled into the wilderness and disappeared, seemingly

without a trace. As the party camped down, Father Sam was repairing his Gatling

Shotgun. Abby was watching him with curiosity.

“Where would a priest carry a weapon like that?” she asked.

“Salt Lake City.” Father Sam replied bluntly.

“The City of Gloom? Are you a Mormon?”

“No. I was from Kansas. I moved to Deseret for work when it developed into an industrial

hub.”

“Did you work with Smith and Robards?” Shady Doug asked.

“I was a tinker in the Hellstromme Industries manufacturing plant. I made their devices.

One night I had a dream, possibly a vision. I was visited by an angel who claimed that

demons were manipulating the professor into building his infernal devices. I gave my

notice by borrowing this gun from the factory, and gave myself to God.”

Abby contemplated the preacher’s tale. By then, Shady Doug was already sleeping.

The next night, the group was still driving the herd. This time it was Plays and Father Sam

who had spotted the coyote. Once again, it disappeared as soon as anybody approached.

Every night it returned, but never actually attacked the herd. It was almost as if it was

waiting.

Four days later, the Lazy S crew had reached the headwaters of a tributary of the

Colorado River. The longhorns at the front of the herd could smell the water long before

anyone could see it, and had become restless. The drifters were riding intensely to calm

them down. While it had become easier to cajole them due to the weeks riding the trail, it

was still difficult to control the thirsty cattle. Gabriella and Dr Lightning did their best to

control the herd, but the others weren’t successful. The cattle began to break loose in a

stampede, thundering towards the watering hole. The point riders quickly manoeuvred

their horses to turn back the lead steers while the other riders tried to round up the others.

The herd eventually calmed down, but 25 steers were lost to exhaustion or trampling.

The water was shallow enough that it didn’t require too much effort to move the herd

across. This was made especially easy as cattle were eager to enter the river due to their

thirst, and the river was little more than a stream with delusions of grandeur. Sutter rode

back to the drifters.

“We only need to shepherd them across rather than drive them.” He said, “You might want

to make the most of this.”

As the drifters watched the cattle, the rest of the crew were using the opportunity to refill

their canteens and water their horses. Ortega was busy filling the water barrels on the

chuck wagon. Halfway across the river, Gabriella noticed some movement in the water. A

mass of water snakes was roiling to the surface, apparently riled by the herd. They rose

from under the muddy water a mere two yards away from her, attempting to strike and bite

Mina’s legs. Gabriella tried to keep her mare under control, while Plays rode over to her on

Devil Eyes. The spirited mare kicked at the water, prompting the snakes to scatter.

“Is everything alright?” Canton asked them.

“Couple water snakes went for us.” Gabriella replied, “They seem to have fled now.”

Canton felt slightly bewildered at the report; Water snakes weren’t aggressive unless

handled. “Don’t worry.” He said reassuringly, “They ain’t poisonous.”

Plays With Fire was unconvinced. He rode back to check if anything was following them.

The only thing in sight was a raven flying away. He turned and rode Devil Eyes back to the

herd.

“Something must have been controlling those snakes.” He explained to Sutter.

“Who would do that, and how?” Abby queried.

“All the tribes have men and women who adopt spiritual medicine.” Plays explained, “The

most powerful of these are capable of transforming into other animals or walking without

leaving tracks.”

“I think I saw Black Dog turn into a crow to escape during the Vermilion attack.” Shady

Doug pointed out.

“He must be following us.” Plays warned.

Another week passed. The crew had left the desert and were returning to a plains region

close to Roswell. There were no distinguishing features in the wilderness, save the nearby

Pecos River. Abby led the herd and the remuda into a shallow box canyon to the east of

the river. Sutter assembled the rest of the crew.

“We’re not too far from Roswell.” He addressed, “I’m gonna sell a portion of the herd to the

Confederate Army at the fort across the river. If that don’t work, I’ll find a buyer in town,

since Dixie Rails have their main line running through here. Abby, Frank, and Duke, you’re

coming with me. As for everyone else, Canton’s in charge ‘til I get back. Stay out of trouble

and keep your heads down.”

He rode away with Abby and two of the other cowboys. Everyone else sat back and

waited. Some went for some downtime; others went to ride the edges of the herd. As the

drifters relaxed, Luke Canton sat with them.

“You know, I’ve heard stories about you.” He told Gabriella, “Everyone’s been talking

about some business with a sheriff. What exactly happened?”

Gabriella sighed. “A couple years back, I’d got arrested in Carson City.” She explained,

“As I languished in jail, I learned that the local sheriff had taken a bribe to lock me away. I

managed to escape, but the sheriff had already skipped town. I got after him, so he tried to

throw me off by crossing the Sierra Nevadas in the middle of winter. I wasn’t willing to let

him escape. I went after him and caught him in Donner Pass. He tried to resist and I shot

the scumbag.”

“That’s determination.” Dr Lightning commented.

“What about you?” Shady Doug asked, “Where’d you get your name?”

“I studied chemistry and physics at New York.” He clarified, “But I was dismissed when I

started studying ghost rock and its aetheric effects. I’d developed my Aetheric Static

Compressor, and went west to see it tested on those weird creatures rather than have all

that meddling in New York. Most people started calling me Dr Lightning, but my real name

is Harvey Edward Millstone.”

Chapter 6 – Shooting Stars The next day was just as uneventful. Sutter had not returned, so the crew remained by the

river. As night fell, a distant rumbling from the west seemed to foretell an approaching

thunderstorm. Some of the more experienced cowboys began to fetch canvas tarps from

the chuck wagon, grumbling about a long and wet night. A flicker of light first appeared to

be a lightning flash on the horizon, followed by more rumbling. The flickering became a

steady glow which abruptly rose off the ground towards the clouds in the west. The

longhorns, always quick to seize upon a chance to become restless, began to stir to the

strange goings-on. Their mood promptly worsened as the arc of the strange object

streaking into the sky began to turn its trajectory towards the herd. Shortly thereafter, it

rose into the clouds. Although the rumble was still audible, its glow ceased to threaten the

skittish cows.

Suddenly, there was a flash and the object, now clearly jetting flame and smoke,

plummeted out of the clouds and hurtled towards the ground less than a mile from the

camp. Luke Canton quickly set the crew to settle the cattle before they could stampede.

“You greenhorns git over there and find out what that thing is!” He shouted to the drifters, “I

don’t want you muckin’ things up tryin’ to rein in these bull-headed brutes in the dark.”

The drifters mounted their horses and rode out. Small fires lit by the impact served as

beacons to them as they made their way through the sparsely vegetated countryside.

Even without the fires, they had managed to pinpoint the spot on the flat ground near the

river.

Upon reaching the scene, the group discovered that the unidentified object was the body

of a man in Confederate greys with a large rocket pack. Plays With Fire examined the

jetpack with intrigue. It was definitely not going to function again; there were several bullet

holes in the device. Father Sam dismantled it.

“These jetpacks use burning ghost rock vapour to propel the user into the sky.” He

explained to the others, “I’ve helped build these before. When the fuse on the top is lit, a

rod of ghost rock at the centre of the pack ignites and heats the water in the boiler. The

steam forces the wearer upwards, and he controls the thrust with two side panels.”

“What happened?” Plays asked.

“The bullets must have punched a hole in the boiler.”

At the same time, Shady Doug and Gabriella were examining the body. Gabriella had

noticed a bullet hole on the man’s uniform, but there was no corresponding wound on the

corpse.

“He’s definitely dead.” Shady Doug reported.

“Hang on,” Gabriella interrupted, “This isn’t a uniform. Those pants are common trousers

dyed to like a standard issue Confederate uniform.”

“And look at this.” Doug added, searching the body. He had found two items of interest: a

roll of money, along with a small piece of paper. “This is Mormon money – Deseret bank

notes. You don’t often find this outside of Deseret.”

“So why is on a dead body in New Mexico?” Gabriella pondered, “What’s the paper?”

Shady Doug examined the paper. It had precise drawings of what appeared to be a

mechanical man, along with cryptic notes consisting of chemical formulae and engineering

calculations. “It looks like some kind of blueprint.” He mumbled.

After a few minutes, shots began to ring out. Twelve Confederate soldiers led by an officer

emerged from the darkness and opened fire on the drifters. Gabriella immediately returned

fire, while Plays moved to flank them with his tomahawk, aiming to get close so they

couldn’t fire on him. Father Sam killed two of the men with a burst of his Gatling shotgun.

These troops were concerned about damage control, and were under orders not to let

anyone escape. Therefore, Sam knew he had to defend himself. They wouldn’t hear any

attempts to parley.

Dr Lightning had fired up his Aetheric Static Compressor, electrocuting six of the soldiers.

Meanwhile, the confederate lieutenant had engaged Plays with his sabre. He swung, only

for the Arapaho to parry it with his tomahawk. Plays swiped at him, leaving a gash across

his chest. Three of the soldiers opened fire on Shady Doug. A pair of fours materialised in

Doug’s hands, and the soldier’s bullets were missing him, as if he was deflecting them. He

threw three playing cards back, taking down two of the soldiers but missing the third one.

Plays with Fire still managed to evade the lieutenant’s sabre. He swung the tomahawk

again. The blade embedded in the officer’s throat, killing him instantly. He turned and

threw the tomahawk at the last soldier, hitting him squarely in the chest. The others were

catching a breath as he retrieved it. Father Sam was administering last rites to the dead

soldiers.

“We need to hide everything.” Gabriella warned, “Someone will find it in the morning.”

The other drifters nodded in agreement.

The following morning, Sutter returned to the camp with an armed escort. A surly captain

assembled the crew as Confederate soldiers searched the camp.

“What’s going on here?” Canton asked.

“Last night there was a break-in at one of our forts in the area. I have reason to believe

that a Wasatch spy is hiding here.” The captain explained.

“Hey!” Ortega shouted as two soldiers searched the chuck wagon, “That stuff is important.”

A burly sergeant pulled him away.

“If there’s another outburst like that I’ll have you all arrested for interfering with an

investigation.” The captain threatened.

After a short while, the escort was content that they had found no evidence that none of

the crew were involved in the break-in. As they left, Sutter watched them in contempt.

“What’s happened?” Shady Doug asked.

“Well, the Confederate government and Dixie Rails were very uncooperative with my

business venture. We’re heading north tomorrow. Start rounding up the herd.” He

instructed. The crew immediately went to work. At the break of dawn the following day,

Canton was leading the herd north towards the Disputed Territories.

Chapter 7 – Black Mesa A week and half out of Roswell, the crew arrived at the Canadian River. This would

typically be a slow-moving stream banked by mud flats, but it was late in the spring by the

time the crew arrived, so the water level had risen due to snowmelt and spring rains.

Sutter had already ridden ahead the previous day and located a solid fording point. As the

drag riders, the drifters were set to drive the reluctant herd across the ford. As they rode,

Father Sam was butted by one of the longhorns, knocking him off Charity into the mass of

cattle. Fortunately, he was able to remount with only a few mild bruises. Dr Lightning was

also unhorsed, but unable to escape. He cried out in pain as the herd trampled him. Two

of the cowboys pulled him to safety while Father Sam and Shady Doug went to examine

him.

“His leg’s fractured.” Doug informed them, “I’m going to have to snap it back into line.”

Dr Lightning winced as Doug snapped the fractured leg back into place. At the same time,

Father Sam was once again praying. He laid his hand on the broken leg and spoke.

“For I will restore health unto thee, and I will heal thee of thy wounds.”

Dr Lightning felt his leg healing. He stood up. The fracture had been repaired. “Thank you,

Reverend.” He said.

As Dr Lightning was being tended to, Gabriella and Plays had managed to direct the herd

into the ford. The next challenge was crossing it themselves. The river was deep enough

that they had to cling to their horses, in the vicinity of an agitated mass of unruly steers

which all weighed more than half a ton. It was tough, but the group made it. As the herd

crossed the Canadian, one steer stepped in a patch of quicksand.

“Get her outta there!” Canton ordered. The drifters set to work. Fortunately for them, the

quicksand was closer to thick mud, so the cow was only sinking a few inches at a time.

While this bought them some time to think, the quicksand’s viscosity was working against

them, holding the steer fast.

“Mr Ortega!” Father Sam called, “Do you have any spare axles or wheels?”

Ortega reached into the wagon and produced them. As Gabriella lassoed the steer, Father

Sam used the axle and one of the wheels to make an improvised capstan. Plays tied the

other end of the lasso to Devil Eyes while Shady Doug wound the rope around the wheel.

Gabriella tried to partially dig out the cow’s legs as Plays walked Devil Eyes forward. The

plan worked. The steer was pulled to safety while the other ranch hands watched

admirably.

The crew drove the herd further on. Sutter was keeping the herd close to the Texas-New

Mexico border as they continued north towards Denver. Looming ahead were the eastern

foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. As the crew were camping down for the night,

Sutter gathered them around the campfire.

“We’ve almost reached the Disputed Territories.” He told everybody, “Most traffic heads up

through Raton Pass. Unfortunately, some enterprising soul named ‘Uncle Dick’ Wooten set

up a toll road there nearly a decade ago with the blessing of our government. His tolls for

the herd is likely gonna devour my grubstakes, so we’re going via Trincheras Pass.”

There was a shudder from some of the cowboys. They knew the dirty secret of the route.

“What’s so bad about the pass?” Shady Doug asked.

“Not so loud!” Canton hissed, “You’ll frighten the others.”

“Well, what is it?” Gabriella queried.

“Trincheras Pass will put us within spitting distance of Black Mesa.” The veteran trail hand

explained, “There’s a chance we’d encounter Injuns, and other unworldly creatures around

there.”

Father Sam made a sign of the cross before checking he had plenty of shells for his

Gatling shotgun. Black Mesa was a large mountain made of dark volcanic rock which

stood on the border of the Oklahoma panhandle and New Mexico. Little did people know

that it was an area where the veil between the earth and the spiritual realm known as the

hunting rounds was thinner than usual, meaning that many creatures of a supernatural

nature could be seen. Fortunately, the Lazy S crew did not come into sight of the

mountain, so they were spared the ultimate horrors that could await many.

That night, the drifters were all suffering from nightmares. As they woke up, they heard the

other cowboys yelling and screaming in their sleep. Even Sutter and Canton were having

bad dreams. The drifters felt worried. Why was everybody having nightmares? They knew

it must have been connected to why Black Mesa was shunned by the locals.

Plays with Fire contemplated his dreams hard. The others were reluctant to discuss the

matter. He brought a suggestion forward: “My father once told me of mythical birds which

were attracted to vivid dreams and could establish mental links with the dreamers.”

“So they manipulate the dreams by drawing on their target’s fears and worries?” Shady

Doug proposed.

“It’s something like that.” Plays returned, “They say that sorcerers use them before an

attack.”

“Black Dog.” Gabriella said bluntly, priming the Evans rifle. There were still plenty of bullets

left. It was a high capacity weapon after all. She knew she wouldn’t be keeping it once she

ran out – it needed special rounds that were hard to come by. She chambered some

rounds into her Peacemaker.

“They can’t be too far away to influence us.” Shady Doug guessed. He prepared to explore

the area. The other drifters followed him.

Not too far away from the camp they found a dozen ravens perching on a nearby dead

tree. They stared at the drifters, a steely gaze found unnerving by many. Gabriella felt a

surge of adrenaline as she walked towards them, spinning the chambers on her

Peacemaker. The ravens took off and flew elsewhere.

“They’ll be back.” Gabriella warned.

“Maybe, but they’d have to re-establish a link again.” Plays said reassuringly, “They need a

few days to make serious alterations to dreams.”

“What kind of alterations?” Shady Doug inquired.

“Every day they have the mental link established they increase the victim’s night terror.”

Plays construed, “After three days they’ll be exhausted from a lack of restful sleep. I’ve

heard tales that after five days wounds sustained from dreams appear on the victim’s

flesh, but they remain superficial. Their torment continues until the victim either dies of

fright or chases the birds away.”

The days went on. The night ravens continued to influence the trail crew’s dreams, but the

drifters kept chasing them away. On the fourth night, the herd entered the approach to the

pass. Sutter once again met with the drifters.

“Me and Luke are gonna ride ahead to scout the pass.” He explained, “We should be back

the next day, but you people have really impressed me on this drive. Therefore, I’m leaving

you in charge until I get back.”

As the Lazy S crew bedded down for the night, Black Dog finally put his plan into place.

He knew that Black Mesa was a hideout used by Ravenites – young braves from every

Native American nation who rejected the Old Ways. He had assembled a war party of

eighteen braves, all armed with Winchester rifles and steel tomahawks. Under cover of

darkness, they crawled towards the camp, remaining low to avoid detection. Black Dog

was chanting quietly in Shoshonean, once again utilising his tribal medicine to aid in the

attack.

Gabriella was on night watch. While it was dark, she noticed shadows moving in the dark.

She whistled for the others to wake. Many of the cowboys were up and ready, but Shady

Doug remained asleep, being a heavy sleeper. Before anyone could act, a large swarm of

bats flew down to attack the cowboys. Gabriella opened fire with the Evans rifle, hitting

one of the braves. The Ravenites immediately fired back, while half their number charged

the crew with their tomahawks.

Father Sam dispatched two of the charging Ravenites with his Gatling shotgun before

using his axe handle to fend another one off. The Ravenite swung at him, only for Abby

Morton to take him out with her own Winchester. At the same time, Gabriella knocked an

attacking brave out with the butt of her rifle, moving to engage another with her bowie

knife. Plays with Fire had also managed to hold his own against the attackers.

Meanwhile, Javier Ortega was loading up his shotgun and firing at the bats. The buckshot

took down several of them, prompting the others to fly away. The other cowboys, now able

to act without distraction from the bats, opened fire on the braves firing at them. The

drifters had also managed to dispatch the braves who charged them. Gabriella picked up

the Evans rifle and aimed at Black Dog. The Comanche chanted another incantation,

prompting Gabriella to briefly glimpse into the hunting grounds. Not taken aback, she fired

a shot. The bullet hit Black Dog in his torso. He winced painfully as he clutched it and

chanted another incantation, shape-shifting into a raven and flying away with the other

retreating braves.

Plays with Fire examined one of the dead braves. In the darkness, he could just make out

a tattoo of a raven on the warrior’s chest.

“So, this is the Order of the Raven you were talking about?” Gabriella asked. Plays

nodded.

Chapter 8 – No Man’s Land After surviving Black Dog’s attack, the rest of the journey through Trincheras Pass was

uneventful. The terrain was not overly steep and the trail skirted the edges of a few draws,

but it never became particularly challenging. In fact, the transition was so gentle, the

drifters were almost through the pass before they even realised they were crossing the

apex. At last, they left the pass.

“Keep your eyes peeled!” Sutter warned everyone, “We’ve just entered Colorado, so we’re

now in Disputed Lands!”

A day north of the pass, the Lazy S crew arrived at the remains of a small, burnt down

homestead. As the drifters stopped to explore it, they realised that the fires were recent –

no older than a week. Shady Doug explored further, and discovered a tripod lashed over

the remains of a small fire. Hanging above the ashes was a large, bulging bag constructed

from fresh leather skins. Curiosity getting the better of him, Doug pulled out his knife and

opened the back, resisting the feeling of nausea as a horribly twisted and mangled body

tumbled out.

“Good lord.” Gabriella muttered as Doug examined the body, “What happened?”

“It looks like he was sewn up into the bag alive and then suspended over the fire.” Doug

theorised, “The heat would cook him while causing the leather to dry and constrict,

crushing him while he roasted.”

“Your accent does not make the description sound any better!” Another cowboy said

quickly, trying to stop himself from throwing up.

“It’s no doubt the place was raided by Injuns.” Canton deduced, “Some tribes use that as a

method of killin’ captives.”

Some of the drifters were nodding in agreement, but Gabriella and Plays were sceptical.

They had managed to locate more than a dozen horse tracks.

“They may not be Indians.” Gabriella argued, “These tracks are shod. Indian war parties

usually ride unshod horses.”

“There’s probably nothing of value here!” Sutter called to them, “We should keep moving!”

Two more days passed. The drifters heard the sound of gunshots from far up ahead of the

herd. Cresting a small rise, they saw a herd approaching a slightly larger homestead. The

lead steers were beginning to scatter and wander, while the point riders were trying to

keep them under control. Father Sam and Gabriella walked their mounts closer. Two men

holding shotguns were standing a short distance in front of the cattle. Sutter and Canton

were trying to talk to them, but even at a distance the drifters could tell that things were not

going well. Riding closer, they heard one of the homesteaders shouting at them:

“I’ll be damned if I let you trample my field with a bunch of stinkin’ Texas cows!” He

bellowed, “It ain’t enough that we gotta contend with border raiders from New Mexico,

home-grown guerrillas, Injun raidin’ parties, and Gault’s bunch on top of all that, but now

you want to go draggin’ a thousand head of cattle across our land. Ain’t no way that’s

happenin’, mister! I’ll stampede them cows all the way back to Santa Fe!”

“Stop this!” Father Sam yelled, “There’s no need for violence here!”

The two homesteaders turned to face him. “Come on then, preacher.” One of them said,

“Let’s hear some sermon about this.”

“I just want to talk.” Father Sam replied, “Who are you people?”

“The name’s Earle Farley.” The homesteader introduced, “This here’s my brother Gail. If

you want to pass through here, speak your piece.”

“We are trying to reach Denver with this herd.” Sam explained, “We face the same threats

that you do, and we are not here to force you out.

“We still need the corn, so we can’t have your herd trampling it.” Earle argued.

“Who is Gault?” Shady Doug asked as he rode to investigate the commotion.

“He’s a nasty border raider who’s been plaguing the area recently.” Earle told them, “He’s

got at least a couple dozen men with him.”

“He also claims to be a Union supporter.” Gail added, “But that’s probably a lie. He’s just

an outlaw using that as a cover for his atrocities. However, I have heard that he’s

connected with Black River.”

Gabriella felt a strong sense of unease at the revelation. Nonetheless, she kept

composure as Father Sam continued talking.

“We came across a burned homestead a few days ago.” He informed them, “The owner

was apparently sewn up into a sack and pressure cooked.”

The Farley brothers both turned pale at the story. “That sounds like Gault.” Earle said,

“He’s not raided us yet, but he’s been slaughtering entire settlements north of here.”

The pair both backed down.

“You can cross our fields,” Earle told the crew, “But only if you pay $50 to cover property

damage.”

Shady Doug threw the box of jewellery to Gail. “These should be worth $50.” He said, “It

saves all that exchange business with paper money.”

“Much obliged.” Earle replied.

As they rode along, Gabriella was still feeling uneasy at the Farley brothers’ story.

“What’s going through your mind Gabriella?” Shady Doug asked.

“I may have to leave.” Gabriella told him, “Black River has a price on my head. If Gault is

connected with them, he’ll try and claim a bounty if he runs into us. The last thing I want is

to have to face Mina Devlin, especially after knowing about the man who killed her

husband.”

“Try not to think about it.” Father Sam told her, “I’ve got a price on my head too.

Hellstromme Industries doesn’t take kindly to their tinkerers leaving. Stay with us. This is

more honest than gunslinging anyway.”

Another few days passed. Sutter met with the heroes one morning for a special errand.

“I sent a pair of hands off to Dog Leg – that’s a small town a day’s ride to the west – to

scout for provisions.” He explained, “However, they ain’t back yet. I’m more than a little

worried they’ve run afoul of Indians, border raiders, bandits, or even that Gault fellow them

Farley boys mentioned. I want y’all to ride over to Dog Leg and see if you can’t find them

yahoos.”

“What are you gonna do?” Gabriella asked.

“I’m gonna keep the herd moving north,” Sutter informed her, “If you’re delayed or you lose

the trail, I’ll wait for you outside the town of Exposition, a few days to north. Agreed?”

“Sure.” Dr Lightning answered.

Chapter 9 – Legal Troubles After an uneventful trip, the five drifters rode into the town of Dog Leg. It was a relatively

small town, with no more than a hundred residents. The drifters hitched their mounts in the

small business district and prepared to search for the missing hands.

“Excuse me,” Father Sam asked a passer-by, “We’re looking for two trail hands. Have you

seen them?”

The local pondered for a moment. “I recall seeing some cowboy-types recently arriving

here.” He said, “I’m sorry, but they were arrested by the town marshal yesterday. I don’t

know why.”

Before anyone else could question him, the man fled. Gabriella sensed that mentioning the

town marshal made him nervous. She headed into the saloon with Shady Doug.

Everybody stopped and gazed at them as they entered. She approached the bartender.

“Some friends of ours were arrested by the town marshal.” She told him, “Do you know

anything about that?”

The bartender shook his head. “Aw hell,” he said, “I can’t turn away a pretty lady like this.”

He led them to a backroom and poured himself a whiskey. “A month ago, this town was

visited by a band of marauders led by Colonel Socrates Gault. When the marshal tried to

intervene, they gunned him down. Gault installed his man Dalton Wilcott as the new

marshal. He runs this town with two lackeys serving as his deputies. Nobody’s gonna

stand up to him out of fear of a reprisal by Gault. There’s even rumours going ‘round that

he’s supported by Black River.”

“We’d better pay him a visit.” Gabriella said to Doug. The bartender stood up as they left.

“Are you crazy?” he asked frantically, “You’re not seriously gonna confront one of Gault’s

boys?”

Gabriella nodded, leaving the saloon. Outside, Father Sam was waiting for them.

“We should pay the marshal a visit.” He said to them. Gabriella nodded, saving the truth

for the right moment.

The marshal’s office was a somewhat unremarkable wooden building with a freshly

painted sign over the door. Gabriella noticed that the windows did not have any bars or

reinforcement. Inside, a portly man in a brown derby and trail clothes was sitting behind a

desk with his feet up and hat down. As the drifters entered, they noticed the two Lazy S

cowboys sat on the floor, chained to a metal eyebolt. They both looked worse for wear,

sporting bruises and scrapes along with black eyes. A pair of unkempt men in deputy’s

badges watched the drifters enter. Marshal Wilcott lifted his hat as they entered.

“What do you folks want?” he asked in a surly voice.

“We’re here to settle a misunderstanding involving the trail hands in your custody.” Father

Sam told him.

“Well, we got us a little problem.” Wilcott returned, “These fellas came in bustin’ up the

place, and me and the boys had to take ‘em into custody – for the good of the town. Before

we can let ‘em go we need restitution for the damages to local establishments.”

“What kind of restitution?” Father Sam asked.

“I want $250 per man, up front, to secure their release.” He demanded. While the

townspeople had denied any evidence that they had ‘busted up the place’, it was a simple

excuse to demand a ransom. He had already interrogated the two cowboys to find out

whether Sutter could pay, but knew that Gault would try and seize the Lazy S herd soon

enough. If he could line his own pockets beforehand, then that was a bonus.

Gabriella nodded to Shady Doug. In a flash, he flipped out the derringer concealed in his

sleeve and shot one of the deputies in the head. At the same time, Gabriella had drawn

her Peacemaker and fanned three shots to kill the second deputy and hit Wilcott in the

abdomen. He fell back and writhed on the floor in agony. Gabriella held her Peacemaker

to his head.

“What are you and Gault up to?” she demanded.

“Sorry, but your boys already spilt the beans about Lazy S.” Wilcott sneered, “Gault is on

his way to pick them up.”

The fake marshal screamed as Gabriella stomped on his wound. Shady Doug freed the

two cowboys and helped them to their feet. Father Sam was aghast by her actions.

“He was an imposter!” She explained, “A plant installed by Gault to keep the town quiet.

The herd is in danger. Now move!”

Everyone quickly ran to their horses and cantered out of Dog Leg.

When the drifters returned to the herd, they had arrived too late. Abby, Canton, and half a

dozen trail hands were remaining, along with less than a hundred steers.

“Thank God you’re back!” Abby cried out as the drifters rode towards them. She sounded

almost hysterical. “Gault and his men jumped us the day before you came back from Dog

Leg. The herd was moving so we couldn’t put up a fight, what with all our men dispersed

around.”

“Couple of the trail hands were killed.” Canton added, “Ortega too. Sutter and everyone

else were taken captive when the raiders drove the cows away to the east. We rounded up

few stragglers.”

“Now that our friends are here we should get after them!” Abby cried, “Uncle Bill’s the only

family I got. Let’s go!”

Canton grabbed her arm. “No!” he snapped, “We’re outnumbered. We won’t stand a

chance.”

“What about Dr Lightning?” Abby shouted, “That gun of his can take most of them out!”

Canton grabbed Abby in both arms and shook her. “Look at me!” he snapped, “There were

at least thirty guys during that attack! Even with our friends here, we don’t have a third of

that number!”

Abby calmed down and caught a breath. They both turned to the drifters.

“What do you propose we should do?” she asked them.

“We could head to Exposition.” Doug suggested, “Maybe we could get the authorities

involved or raise a posse.”

Two days later, the crew arrived at the town of Exposition, built at the end of a rail spur. As

they entered the town, the locals were watching them nervously. The tension was high

between both parties. A small boy darted into a saloon near the train station. Within

moments, a large band of armed men and women emerged with their weapons aimed in

the drifters’ general direction.

“That’s far enough, Gault!” a cold-eyed woman at the front of the group shouted, “Drop

your weapons and get your hands up!”

“Hold on now!” Canton yelled back, “We wish to parley! We ain’t Gault’s boys!”

The woman gestured for the others to lower their weapons as she moved towards them.

Gabriella was once again feeling uneasy as she realised where they were. They had met a

gang of Black River enforcers. While she was afraid of being recognised, she also felt

relieved at the gang’s orders; if they had been mistaken for Gault, then he had obviously

fabricated his claims about their support.

“My name is Constance Merit.” The leader of the enforcers told them, “When an armed

group was seen riding into town everyone was afraid it was Gault’s band.” She seemed

too proud to apologise, but she did order her troops to lower their weapons.

“We ran afoul of them a few days ago.” Abby reported. Gabriella noticed a look of interest

in Merit’s face.

“Word has reached Black River’s head offices in Memphis that a raider named Gault was

preying on the local population and claiming that the railroad was behind him.” Merit

explained, “Mina Devlin is no saint, but she does take serious umbrage at someone else

making use of her name. My rail gang is under orders to take him down.”

“That ornery bastard has stolen our herd and is holding the rest of our crew hostage.”

Canton reported, “Can you help us?”

Merit pondered the question. “Unfortunately, I’m under orders to protect the railhead in

Exposition.” She stated, “It’s an enticing target for bandits and raiders, not to mention the

other rail gangs. However, if I can say I dealt with Gault that would be a good feather in my

cap with Esperanza.”

Gabriella shuddered at the sound of name. Violet Esperanza was Mina Devlin’s chief

enforcer, the leader of the notorious Wichita Witches. Devlin recruited Esperanza’s gang to

serve as ‘rail warriors’, whose duty was to protect her rolling stock while simultaneously

harassing her competitors. The Witches were known to dynamite trestles and send entire

trains full of people to their dooms, just to inconvenience other rail barons.

“I have a good-sized contingent of enforcers both in the town and patrolling the spur.” Merit

continued, “I’m sure I can spare a few just to get the border raiders out of my hair. I can

send you twenty enforcers to help you take down Gault if you can spare fifty head of

cattle.”

The group nodded. Canton shook Merit’s hand in agreement. By this time, Gabriella was

trying to avoid being recognised.

“Not so fast.” Merit interrupted. Gabriella froze. Merit approached her. “I see that Vendetta

Vasquez has landed with a new post.” She said, “You have a lot of nerve showing yourself

around here. You had better bring Gault back, or I’ll turn you in to Esperanza myself. I’m

sure she’ll want to have a serious talk with you.”

As Merit delivered her ultimatum, Father Sam and Shady Doug were approaching the

marshal’s office. A wanted poster on the wall depicted a hideously ugly bandit labelled as

Colonel Socrates Gault, advertising a bounty of $1000. The marshal saw them viewing it.

“I know what you’re gonna ask.” He said, “But I’m afraid that I can’t help you.”

“Isn’t it your duty to protect the people?” Father Sam insinuated.

“It is my duty,” the marshal replied, “But I have no jurisdiction over the crimes committed

outside the town. I’m just trying to keep the peace and stay on Merit’s good side.”

As the enforcers were preparing, the drifters were contemplating the coming battle. Even

with help from Black River, they would still be outnumbered. Seeking aid from the

townsfolk was futile; in the Disputed Territories, border raiders were just as accepted to life

as thunderstorms and twisters. Most people didn’t see any point in having a shootout with

a band of killers. The drifters prepared their weapons and rode out.

Chapter 10 – The Battle of Gault’s Gulch The drifters led their new allies to where the raiders had attacked the drive. Following

Gault’s trail wasn’t difficult. The wide swath of hoof prints and cowpats heading east took

the best part of a day to follow, leading to a large box canyon. The entrance to the canyon

was blocked off by a simple rope fence, and an encampment was set up nearby. The most

cursory look at the camp could tell anybody that the border raiders outnumbered the

drifters.

“There’s probably about forty guys, maybe more.” Canton lamented, “We’ll have no

chance.”

Dr Lightning was observing the camp with a telescope. “Perhaps we could even the odds a

bit.” He suggested. Gabriella looked through the telescope. She could see two sentries

atop the bluffs near the canyon mouth. As she continued to observe, she noticed Sutter

and four other trail hands. They were tied up near a pile of crates to the south of the camp.

“Your uncle’s still alive.” She told Abby. The report was met by a sigh of relief.

“They must want a ransom.” Canton pondered, “What was your idea of evening the odds?”

“If we can remain undetected, we can get half of our force on the bluffs.” Dr Lightning

explained, “That way we can divide them.”

“They’ll overpower us.” Gabriella argued, “Unless…”

“The herd!” Shady Doug interjected, “If we can get into the box canyon, we can stampede

them. They’ll charge right through the camp.”

Gabriella immediately set out to ascend the bluffs with Plays. At the same time, Shady

Doug and Abby led half the Black River enforcers to find another way up while Father Sam

and Dr Lightning stayed at ground level with the remainder of the enforcers and Luke

Canton.

The sentries atop the bluffs were bored and inattentive. Gabriella and Plays were able to

reach the second bluff unnoticed, hiding behind a small clump of bushes. She whistled.

The sentry moved towards the bush. Gabriella gripped her bowie knife tightly. As the

sentry peered over, she rolled behind and pulled him to the ground, slashing his throat with

the knife. At the same time, Plays readied his bow and took down the sentry on the

opposite bluff.

The enforcers positioned themselves atop the bluffs, going prone and taking aim.

Gabriella, Shady Doug, and Plays descended into the canyon where the herd had been

corralled. Shady Doug stealthily cut the rope fence with his knife while Gabriella prepared

to free Sutter and the other trail hands. Plays had manoeuvred behind the herd, and began

shouting loudly to try and incite a stampede. It worked. The herd thundered out of the

canyon and hurtled through the outlaw’s camp, while the enforcers on the bluffs opened

fire. While everyone was distracted, Gabriella freed the captives. Sutter nodded and led

the other four away to find weapons.

“Let’s go!” Canton ordered. The enforcers on the ground level advanced on the camp. The

outlaws who had fled to avoid the stampede were killed by a burst from Dr Lightning’s

Aetheric Static Compressor. Those who’d managed to evade it were killed by a volley from

the enforcers. Gabriella was inside the camp, picking off any outlaws with the Evans rifle.

She ducked away to avoid a wild shotgun blast, turning to see Colonel Gault aiming a

LeMat revolver at her.

“You’ve got six shots with that Peacemaker,” he said, “I’ve got nine shots.”

In a flash, Gabriella had closed distance with Gault and struck him across the face with the

empty rifle. The LeMat flew out of his hands. He drew a sabre and slashed at Gabriella,

who tried to block it with the rifle. Pushing him back, she drew her Peacemaker, only to

dive out of the way when five henchmen rushed to Gault’s aid. The stampede had settled,

and many of the longhorns were dispersing into the countryside or back into the canyon.

The rest of the outlaws were engaging in steady combat with the Lazy S cowboys and

Black River enforcers.

Gault tried to make a break for it as his henchmen kept Gabriella pinned down, only to be

ambushed by Plays. The Arapaho struck the raider in the neck with his tomahawk. At the

same time, Shady Doug had dispatched three of Gault’s men with his playing cards while

Father Sam hit the remainder with his Gatling shotgun. Gault was still alive and managed

to throw Plays aside. He had recovered his LeMat and had it risen. Gabriella leapt from

her cover and tackled Gault. As they tussled, Gault tried to raise the LeMat to shoot

Gabriella. She quickly stunned him with a well-placed punch before being thrown back. As

Gault raised the LeMat again, she threw her bowie knife into his stomach. The raider fell,

this time for good.

By now, the outlaws had been routed. Everyone gathered around Gault’s corpse.

“Thanks for bustin’ us out.” Sutter told the drifters, “I thought the whole drive was shot.”

The Black River enforcers were rounding up some of the longhorns before riding back to

Exposition. Sutter watched them leave.

“We had to pay them in some way.” Canton explained. Sutter nodded in understanding.

“We’ll stick around here for a few days.” He told the rest of the crew, “We can use this time

to recuperate while we round up the cattle.”

While resting, Shady Doug was wandering around the camp and searching the remains of

the battered tents. In one of the larger tents he found a large trunk, which he took outside

and opened in view of everyone else. The chest contained Gault’s ill-gotten gains: $1000

in Union bills, $500 in Confederate bills, along with a small bag of gold dust.

“That dust could be worth $400.” Gabriella commented.

“We should divide that among the crew.” Sutter told them. The drifters didn’t argue. While

they were broke when they first joined the crew, they weren’t greedy. Besides, paper

money had little value around these parts.

“Your boys can have the money.” Gabriella told him, “We’ll take the bounty they’re offering

on Gault.”

After a few days, the herd had been rounded up and Sutter was riding back to Exposition

for a resupply. The drifters were immediately met by the marshal as they rode in.

“I’m surprised that you folks squared off against Gault and lived.” He said admirably, “I got

a feeling that you’d want to claim the bounty on that son of a bitch. Your friends in Black

River have claimed a cut of the action, but I’ve saved $500 for you.”

As he handed them the money, Constance Merit approached them.

“They certainly don’t call you Vendetta Vasquez for nothing.” She said to Gabriella,

“Normally, I’d be inclined to hand you over for an extra hundred bucks. However, you

impressed me, and I can make a name for myself for ‘defeating’ Gault anyway. I’ll cut you

a break, but I suggest you leave Exposition as soon as you can. I can’t let Mina or Violet

know that I helped you.”

“I understand.” Gabriella replied. She didn’t want to claim credit anyway; that would attract

some unwanted attention.

After restocking in Exposition, the crew set back out along the trail again. The next two

weeks passed uneventfully, after which the drifters found themselves reaching Denver.

“I’m gonna be sticking around here for a couple days to inquire about making sales.” Sutter

told the drifters, “You’re free to visit the city as long as the herd is tended to. If you folks

want to take your leave, I won’t stop you.”

“Thanks for opportunity, but I’ll stay on.” Gabriella said. The others promptly agreed.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Sutter told them, “I’m sure that something will come up soon.”

To be continued in ‘High Plains Drovers’…

ORIGINAL SCENARIO BY JOHN GOFF, WITH ADDITIONAL MATERIAL BY MATTHEW CUTTER AND PIOTR KORYS. DEADLANDS SETTING BY

SHANE LACY HENSLEY. ADAPTATION BY ANDREW ROBERTS. CHARACTERS AND SETTINGS BY PINNACLE ENTERTAINMENT GROUP.