A Discussion on an Unwanted Future

I walk slowly out of Sally’s general store as the sun reaches her zenith. My overpriced bottle of whiskey half empty and my every step a journey. Diabla has not returned from her wanderings yet, unfortunately. I pull out a whistle from my coat and blow, then lean on one of Sally’s porch roof’s pillars to wait for her to show up. Some locals wander by, giving me polite nods. As I see Diabla walking her way back up the road towards me, a man in a fancy suit and a woman in a far too elegant dress walk across the road to me. “Excuse me, sir?” the man says, “Sir?”

I look over at him. Well groomed, overly dressed, clearly disgusted. This must be one of those bankers swinging through and trying to buy up land for a rail. “I don’t recognize you two,” I say slowly to the pair with a smile. Diabla walks slower, nervous about the pair. She’s right to be nervous. These sorts are always trouble, bring only more of it.

“You wouldn’t happen to be the owner of the prairie to the south east of here?” he asks.

I smile. And the gulch straight south of here, but that isn’t something I need to add. “Might be,” I reply aloud, “What’s it to you?” Curious on what approach the pair will take.

He begins, “I’m Samuel Snelling, and I wanted to talk to you about a potential opportunity.” They’ve been working the prospector route. Can’t blame them, given my appearance.

The woman seems to notice something about my reaction, and taps Mister Snelling’s shoulder, an indication that she wishes to take over. Oddly enough, he obliges her. Interesting, at the very least. She smiles as she looks me dead in the eyes. “We were hoping we might grab lunch with you, talk about some ideas we have.”

I give a polite nod. “Of course,” I begin. “Though I am rather too intoxicated to agree to much of anything today, I’d love to chat,” I lie. Diabla finally has no way of not being here without fully stopping, so she saddles up beside me. I pat her forehead as she stops and interposes herself between me and the well-dressed man. He seems less than pleased that his companion wants them to have a meal with me. Understandable, I suppose. I’m not exactly the cleanest person around today. Fortunately, my only lingering injuries aren’t really visible.

“I wouldn’t expect you to come to any decisions today, in any case. This is a discussion about potential, we want you to really consider it,” she replies, using all the right words to catch someone in a trap.

“In that case, where were you going to eat?” I ask with a smile as I climb into Diabla’s saddle.

The man takes back over. “While I’m sure you would prefer the saloon, there was that lovely little dining house out across the way from the large sign that just says ‘Pete’s’.” I always am entertained by what people think the poker den is supposed to be. It’s the sort of place that if you ask anyone, they’d say, but Pete doesn’t advertise much.

“Ah, Janette Fitzwilliam’s place. I prefer making my own way, but I hear good things about her people.” Then, with a wicked grin, I add, “You two wouldn’t have any ulterior motive, taking us to one of the Fitzwilliams’ businesses? Because if you do, you should be aware that Janette doesn’t have much sway with the family. From what I hear, at least.”

They chuckle, as they head back to their buggy. The woman pauses, as though she wants to say something, then thinks better of it and follows her companion. I see another man in a fancy suit have an intense chat with the pair, before nodding and walking over in the general direction of Jackson’s mansion. Good luck, I can’t help but muse, he likes his privacy too much. Might well end up with a request to disappear a body tonight. Shaking my head, I begin the ride over towards Janette’s.

I let Diabla walk, so I can sober up a bit and think about what’s actually going on. I know why I’m agreeing to do this, I get a free meal from a fairly talented cook, depending on which of the two are working today. And I get to mess with Janette. Win win for me. But they were targeting me about the prairie. Why? The ground there is fairly unstable, it would cost more to build their rail there. Unless they either have a path already that we’re being looped into, or they have funding based on some other element. Curious, to say the least.

As the horse walks along, I notice the ranger talking with Elise, our local madame. I see another of the unknown horses from earlier. A woman is riding atop it, someone new to town. She doesn’t look like she is the sort who would work with the ranger nor the bankers. Perhaps the gang that Ranger Blanc is looking for. Or she’s a new member of some other group or crew around here. Whichever it is, I watch carefully as she heads towards Hiram’s. Must be staying there for the moment. I’ll check it out after lunch.

At the dining hall, I see the buggy, despite my slow speed, still rolling towards the front. Why people think that is the future, I do not really understand. I tie Diabla on the post, apologizing to her quietly as I do. It’ll bother Janette, and keep people away. I do realize as I’m knotting the rope, so will the fancy buggy, but I’m already halfway through the knot. Don’t want to appear indecisive. Not in front of the wolves ready and waiting to pounce at any weakness. As I wait, I check my gear visibly, mostly to let anyone who might be watching know not to bother me today. The buggy stops by the door, and the pair of rich people step out. I give them a polite nod. The woman asks, “Are you worried? Why did you have your pistol out a moment ago?”

I smile and shrug. “Always pays to be prepared in my book,” I say noncommittally. I am a little worried, this pair looks like money and people might get the notion that they’re an easy target. I’m not sure I mind in theory, but I don’t want to have another body on my hands while there’s a ranger wandering town. Might start asking questions.

“I must agree,” Samuel replies, “That is why our good driver Gregory always has the shotgun up on the bench.” The driver, sitting on the bench, pats the gap beside him. He doesn’t get down. He wasn’t atop the buggy this morning, so he must leave at times. Maybe not mealtimes, though. It’s not worth asking.

“After you,” I say with a smile as I gesture towards the door. They head inside, and I follow. Janette is there, chatting with one of her family’s people as we come inside. At first, she seems pleased to have some customers, then, noticing me, she visibly sighs. She maintains her polite facade, however, as the pair I’ve entered alongside look monied.

Walking over to join us as we seat ourselves at one of the tables, she asks them, “Soup, sandwich, or entree?” then to me, she adds, “I take it your demon’s out front.”

“Don’t worry, she’s mostly hidden by my new friends’ buggy,” I reply.

She turns to the pair of rich people. “You two know he’s just scamming a meal out of you.”

“So he’s not the owner of the prairie south-east of here?” the man asks.

Janette frowns, immediately realizing who chose her restaurant and why. She was hoping word was getting out about it, or that my irritating habits of annoying her was bringing in a new customer. Instead, it was an attempt to get to her family through her, one of the more publicly available and social members of it. “Technically, yes,” she admits.

I finish her thought for her, “But the land is basically worthless.” They look confused, so I explain. “It’s difficult to build on, out of the way, not particularly arable for crops, and doesn’t have any ore to speak of. If anyone were to buy it, the only reason I can think of would be as grazing land.”

“And that’s not to mention he’s always been real reticent about selling it, according to my cousin.”

I hold up a hand. “To be fair, I have a somewhat visceral hatred for your dear cousin-in-law Lyle, so keep that in mind with all my interactions with him.” I make sure to keep the record clear about her relation to the Fitzwilliams.

Janette smiles. “You really need to get over that little incident, my cousin has apologized already.” She emphasizes the cousin in the same way I emphasized the in-law. To be fair, by all accounts she is more correct than me, as while she may have married into it, she’s most certainly a part of the family. But I’m hoping to spare her the bankers’ gaze and she’s too focused on our bickering to notice.

I shrug, looking back to the lunch company. “Apologies, that’s not about you guys.”

“What is it about?” the woman asks, leaning in. I can’t tell if it’s genuine interest or a way to garner more information. Either way, what better method of discouraging investment than telling the truth.

I shrug, and wistfully answer. “I’m evidently one of those rare few individuals who struggles to get over being shot.”

“Grazed. Barely,” Janette insists.

“Why?” Samuel asks, concerned. Likely about his venture and investments here.

I look at his companion. “That would be impolite to say,” I offer, to let them think something crude. Janette shakes her head. She knows the truth, the disappearance of someone that he was trying to murder as a rite of passage into adulthood, but she also knows I’m right. Talking about our illegal habits would be impolite.

“I suppose I’ll have to pry the secrets out of you then,” the woman adds. Clearly her companion isn’t too happy about this, but he doesn’t stop her. Not a fiancé or wife, then. The money? Some sort of child of a rich family trying to live a frontier life? Interesting. Though if she is the money behind it and is that sort of person, that’ll be harder to convince them that the investment isn’t worth it.

“More to the point,” the banker begins, interposing himself into the eye contact going on between me and his companion, “That is exactly the sort of reason we need to do this. Bring a more civilized outlook to towns like yours. Slowly, letting you all make money and adapt, of course, but helping connect this beautiful town to the rest of the world.”

Rage. I can feel it start to bubble. I force it back into the box. I can feel it strain. I’m going to need to vent it all soon. But not today. Not with eyes on town. Not unless I have to. “I will say, that is fair,” I admit, “But there’s a lot of things buried around this town.” That causes a chuckle from Janette, the only person here who understands the double entendre. I continue as she chuckles, “You may find more resistance than you’d imagine for such a noble task.” I make sure to call it noble in a way that’s clearly sarcastic to anyone not so wrapped up in their own egotistical self-righteousness that they can’t imagine people disagreeing with them.

The woman smiles, catching my sarcasm, and seemingly to some extent agreeing with me. Unfortunate. She won’t be deterred easily. He, on the other hand, nods. “I am starting to see it. But you seem a reasonable sort, at least,” he says. Once again, Janette laughs.

“Come, let’s have lunch,” the woman says, “I’ll just have the soup or sandwich, whichever you prefer, dear Missus Fitzwilliam.” She looks me in my eyes. “And you?”

“If you two don’t mind,” I say to her, “The entree. It’ll be a bit much for lunch, but Diabla’s hungry.” I smile to make it clear to the two people buying me a meal that I’m probably joking, while making eye contact with Janette to tell her I’m definitely not. A chuckle goes around the room.

“Well, you can’t let your horse go hungry. I’ll have the entree as well,” Mister Snelling says. As Janette heads to the kitchen, the banker turns back to me. “Now, let me explain what we have in mind for the future.”