Chapter One: McCoy's Boys
1903
The Van Der Linde gang, for all its daring yet foolish actions all the way back before it came crumbling down like a house of cards, seemed to fair better to Sadie than what a sorry excuse of a gang she had gotten herself into. But she couldn't complain. Not now, at least. She spent all those weeks infiltrating McCoy's Boys, a deadbeat gang much like the O'Driscolls, and complaining about it shouldn't do her any good. The train to New Mexico and the agony of socializing with a bunch of bearded gunslingers she knew nothing about (or cared about, for that matter), were all means to an end. She did all that because she had one goal in her clever mind.
Now, she stood guard with the gang's leader under the scorching sun and the cloudless blue sky. With them, there were a dozen men spread among a wide area. They had their shovels on the work as they dug around a small, jagged, dark orange rock formation. Sadie wanted to hide from the sun's presence and take cover under the small, unkempt tents that littered like the cacti and dead bush among their vicinity. Alas, she was ordered to stand and mope around to guard this unprofessional excavation.
Today was the day Sadie finds out about the second clue to the Braithwaite Gold. For all she knew, the gold was just a myth, much like ghost trains and supernatural men in black suits and top hats. But she had a strong feeling about this one, and it wasn't going to be silenced anytime soon.
"So, boss," Sadie said, "how long 'till we get the second clue?"
A tinge of dignity was taken away from her when she said the word 'boss'. True, she served a bunch of sheriffs in the Frontier, but it was only a one time thing for each of them. Never had she had a boss ever since 1899, but even then, she just tagged along with Dutch in her opinion, not that she served him.
However, McCoy's Boys already had a head start at discovering the Braithwaite Gold with the clue they had gotten two weeks ago. That clue lead them to the deserts of New Mexico, and needless to say, word got around and into Sadie herself. She had to join the gang in hopes of snatching it from their hands at the right time, and already, there was a plan she had up on her white, dirty sleeves. It was a daring plan, but a plan nonetheless.
"When mah men are done diggin'," Marshall McCoy said sternly, his heavy Southern accent proclaiming through the hot air. Though he and Sadie shared the same interest of finding gold, how they looked was quite the opposite. Sadie kept her white shirt that covered her thin stature clean, and her immaculate jeans were tucked in her newly shined boots. McCoy, on the other hand, wore a black hat with holes in it, a shirt with faint bloodstains and mud, and pants that seemed like a dog wreaked havoc on it. His hair was also the greasiest of the West. "Ah don't even know if they're diggin' on the right place!"
"Mister McCoy," a voice stuttered at the leader. There was a hint of British. "I humbly a-assure you that this is the right place."
"It better be, you fuckin' fancy dan!" McCoy exclaimed.
Sadie whirled her head around to see a young man on the sidelines, who looked terribly afraid at the circumstances he was in. He held a worn-out paper on one hand and a suitcase on the other. Perhaps he and Sadie was the only ones in the gang who had knack for keeping personal hygiene in touch, as he was a stark contrast to the dirty, dug-in, burly members of McCoy's Boys and to Marshall McCoy himself.
"Who is he, boss?" Sadie asked, shifting her gaze away from the gang's leader to the clean-shaven, trembling man.
"He's Peter Addington," McCoy replied. "He's helping us find the second clue, and Ah thought his supposed horse sense'll have us finding it lickety split but we've been searchin' fer hours!"
Sadie looked upon the small elongated rock formation. It was small compared to the Texas Buttes, but in actuality, it was twenty-three feet tall and a dozen feet in diameter. The gunmen had their rifles holstered as they dug around it in a lagged manner. They were probably just as tired as the horses, and their leader didn't plan on giving them a break anytime soon.
"PETER!" McCoy shouted. "Why in tarnation aren't we findin' anythin', huh? Ah thought you have a- what is it- a PhD? Or whatever ya call it?"
"B-but Mister, this is what the first clue said. I-I'm merely following it!" Peter stammered. The sun's glare from millions of miles away was reflected by his sweat and into Sadie's eye, and she blinked for a bit. This man didn't seem to belong here; with his somewhat posh accent and formal attire. A tie and a blue opulent vest wasn't something you should wear in the heat of the desert, but at least his sleeves were rolled.
"Then what did it say again? Maybe Mrs. Freckles' genius brain could prove ya were wrong," McCoy said. He was maybe just as worse as Micah Bell, but at least he didn't call Sadie a miss.
Peter fumbled around with his black suitcase first, and then he knelt on the sands as he opened it and dug through the stack of papers and documents. After a few seconds, he paused for a while then pulled out a well-worn piece of paper that turned yellow. It must've gone through a lot. Jogging to Sadie and McCoy's direction, he almost slipped, but he regained his balance as quick as he said his sentences.
"From the state found in 1845, walk a dozen miles to the right,
And seventy miles from the country with a familiar name,
There you'll find a finger, pointing to the clear, cloudless sky."
The thing that caught Sadie's attention the most was how sappy that poem was, as if it was written by a teenager. If this was the first clue, she would've quit a long time ago, thinking it wasn't legitimate. Then again, they first found the clue written in a string of symbols and hieroglyphs, so that poem must have been the deciphered output. She raised an eyebrow.
It was cryptic, sure, but she could see where it was pointing at.
"The state found in 1845," Sadie said, furrowing her eyebrows. "I reckon that's Texas, right?"
"Absolutely!" Peter exclaimed.
The next verse was the country with a familiar name. Sadie paused for a while, but so far, her clever mind thought of nothing, though she was familiar with a lot of countries. For some reason, she even knew the four capitals of the Ottoman Empire.
"Country with a familiar name, that I can't figure out." Sadie spoke, and a pair of glaring eyes were laid upon her by the burly man on her side.
"Mexico," Peter explained. "It's Mexico. And the state we're in is called...?"
Sadie's eyes widened. Of course! How could she not have thought of that? Then again, it was a tad too difficult on her part. "New Mexico," she murmered.
"Exactly. If we go seventy miles north of the Mexico border, then a dozen miles west of the Texas border, we find our lovely arses here in New Mexico. I assume that you already know what 'the finger pointing to the clear, cloudless sky' means, right?"
Sadie once again laid her eyes on the tall rock formation the clue was talking about. Needless to say, she was impressed. Whoever came up with the clue knows what they were doing, and the hunt became much more interesting. Back then, she used to help a once healthy Arthur discover numerous treasures, from Jack Hall's own gold bars to a serial killer's hole. Now, however, the stakes were higher and the search was grander. The first clue was found all the way back in New Hanover, now they were hundreds of miles away with a crew of gunslingers, about twenty horses, and several horse-drawn carriages stocked with all kinds of supplies.
The whole fiasco sure was the work of the Braithwaites. She tended to stay away from the gravity of the old family's presence when her former gang decided to incinerate their mansion, but now, she could see why Dutch was eager to put his nose where it didn't belong. Now that the family secret was out, all the cowboys and opportunists from all around the frontier frantically started their attempt for the search.
"Still doesn't explain why we can't find a goddamn thing!" McCoy chimed in, his voice was becoming much calmer now. Well, as calmer as it can be.
"Maybe your cannon fodders are just some lousy plonkers who can't dig properly," Peter remarked, and Sadie wished he didn't.
McCoy's left eye started to twitch. There was no way he'll let Peter's poor comment slide; the young man would end up in a shallow grave at best. Sadie could do nothing as McCoy shoved Peter, causing the latter to land on the burning sand.
"Cooper! Sam!" McCoy's voice rang through the direction of his digging men, and two of them bearded goons perked up, dropping their shovels. They probably shouldn't have; after all, they were gonna use it to dig a poor European's grave.
The pair's attire couldn't be anymore unsurprising for Sadie. Rolled up sleeves that highlighted their closed fists were a check, and sweaty, brown areas on their varying shirts were also present. The two even had the same whiskers, but one of them was blonde who had a binocular hanging on his chest like a necklace.
Her eyes slowly drifted to the top of the supposed 'finger' that the poem described. It didn't look like a finger at all, it was more of a rocky spike that had a small flat top. An idea came to mind.
"This boy," McCoy started. "They called ya a couple of cannon fodders... and lousy plonkers who can't dig for shit."
"I dunno what the hell that means, oh but you're gonna get it, fancy pants," one of them said, then a disconcerting smile formed on their tired face as they approached their victim.
Peter, on the other hand, was still on the ground, terrified for his well-being. But the two didn't care, and soon enough they were kicking the poor guy with their pointy leather boots. Their spurs jangled with every motion. Sadie then whistled; a small part of her did it so the kicking would stop for a while. Only a couple of moans were heard from Peter but it didn't take a Murfree to see that he'll be crying for help soon.
"Hey, you, blondie," she said, then the pair stopped and looked at where the raspy voice came from.
"Now just what do you want, lady?" the blonde spat with venom.
"Your binoculars."
McCoy just scowled at Sadie, and so did Sam and Cooper, though she didn't know which of them was which. Peter could only moan in pain as the train of kicks momentarily stopped. Much to his dismay, the blonde's kicking partner continued the beating.
"Why?"
"You ain't using them now, are you?" Sadie quipped, "What, you're gonna stick it up his ass or something?"
Deep in her mind, as long as she didn't insult any of McCoy's goons, she will remain unscathed. Besides, all that socializing with a bunch of the gang's members made her somewhat close to the leader, so she had that going for her. In fact, she even heard a faint chuckle from McCoy himself, and he didn't seem to blow off any steam. She just hoped the two didn't take it as a serious question, or else they might get ideas.
Before Sadie knew it, the man's face was mere inches away from hers. If she didn't know that the man was seeping with anger (from such a little quip), and also a gunslinger, she would've taken it as a flirt. But it wasn't. It was an act of intimidation, and Sadie acknowledged it. She might not have moved a muscle, but her heart was beating as fast as a humming bird flaps its wings— like it was hanging on to dear life. And to some extent, it was.
She could've punched the person any time she wanted to, but she didn't have to. Not yet. A show of hostility to any one in this wretched goons will end up blowing her cover, and as such, her plan, as well. It didn't involve just finding the gold. Something else was inside Sadie's mind, and it did nothing but push her on beyond her successful infiltration.
A small cough came out of Sadie's lips as the blonde man slammed the binoculars on her chest. There was pang of pain that surged from her sternum, and she winced. It hurt a lot, then a pair of hands fumbled around the binoculars. The blonde obviously scoffed, and with a final sideways stare, he turned around to join the kicking with his friend.
Sadie wasted no time and pointed the binoculars to the very top of the rock formation. The freckled lass's expression turned bright; her eyes widened as she peered through. It was enough to spark curiosity for McCoy.
Of course it would be there
"Whaddya see, Freckles?" McCoy asked.
"You didn't have to dig," Sadie said, wasting no time as she took off running to the butte. The binoculars hit the sand.
The sound of Peter Addington's ouches and Marshall McCoy's calling for her nickname became fainter and fainter as she drew nearer to the tall butte. How could they overlook it? How could she have not thought about it sooner? Now that realization hit her, it became so obvious, as if there was a banner that said: 'Hey, I'm over here!"
Sadie looked up. The painful light of the sun hit her eyes, and it was hard to keep herself from squinting.
After dusting off her coarse hands, Sadie jumped and caught a crevice of the rock formation. She was hanging for a moment, but she pressed one of her foot against the rocks. Since there were no ladders and hot air balloons in the vicinity, she had to climb the tall thing by herself. She gulped. She just hoped that she didn't fall and break her legs, let alone her neck.
Sadie reached out for another crevice or corner for her hands to grip, and with a little luck, she felt one and safely grabbed onto it. She pressed another boot against the butte, and the cycle of climbing continued. With each inch she put between her and the ground, her grip tightened ever so slightly. There was no way she was gonna die climbing this ugly rock formation, and if she did survive the fall, which was more than likely, she didn't want to break something. The nearest town was many miles away. Heck, she didn't even know if there was a doctor in there.
A yelp escaped from her lips, which were now dry; her left hand almost slipped. Thankfully, her other hand kept the tight grip, which saved her from falling. If she fell right now, it would be fine, as she wasn't even halfway up the peek. Sadie thanked whoever was behind these clues for picking a jagged butte. Jagged enough for someone to climb over like a monkey. She also cursed at Braithwaite responsible for this. Of all the places they could hide it, they just went on their way and put it on such an odd place.
But if an inbred ex-slaver was able to climb it, who was to say Sadie couldn't?
Her mind started racing, and so was her beating heart. Looking down, it made it worse. She was a fair distance away from the ground. She'll break a bone if she fell this time, and another pang of realization hit her: her way down. She had to this all over again, and to some extent, climbing down this rock formation was harder than climbing up. The blonde just groaned. She came so far. There was no sense in turning back.
It could be worse, she thought. Sadie could've been charging a guarded penitentiary, a ranch filled with nasty O'Driscolls, or get stabbed on a snowy mountain all over again. Comparing her situation to those of her time in the Van Der Linde gang, she will choose this a hundred times over.
She started theorizing what the next clue will be. The first clue was on the bottom of an expensive wine bottle. There were those random symbols that raised everybody's suspicion, and as she gathered earlier, it was some sort of code that translated to the poem that poor Peter Addington recited earlier. What was next was a mystery to her. What if it was more code? What if it you had to buy another expensive wine bottle? What if it wasn't even on top of the butte? What if one of McCoy's Boys already found the clue while she was climbing?
She shook her head. To her, there was no way she'll climb down empty handed.
And when her right hand reached the top, she knew her little expedition was over. Carrying her weight to the flat top, she finally had all of her body at the peak. Her view of the world under her was astonishing, even though it was just desert.
A pair of hazel eyes reflected upon the almost-orange world that loomed over all the way to the horizon. Buttes and plateaus stuck out from the earth sporadically, and the olive dessert grassland that left spots exposing the desert sands stretched from every corner and slit. A river cut through on the far side, sparkling platinum reflections of the sun. To her east, a dark orange mountain range served as a curtain to the direction.
Shifting her gaze away from the unexpectedly beautiful landscape, she glanced down the natural platform. A smile formed on her freckled face. There it was— a rectangular box that situated on a small fissure with the same shape. It was blue, and it was just as small as a handgun. It was even wrapped around by a purple ribbon, like a gift.
"Boss!" Sadie shouted. "I found it!"
Marshall McCoy was tiny from up where she was. He waved a thumbs up on the air, and Sadie celebrated by a wiping the sweat from her forehead. Now it was time to climb down.
But just then, she saw something on the distance.
A convoy of two dozen armed men (double her gang's numbers) rode their steeds leisurely for what seemed like a mile away from McCoy's excavation site. Their rifles weren't holstered. It seemed like they were aiming at killing everybody in McCoy's gang, and soon, gunshots would be heard from all around the area and the empty stomachs of vultures will have something to feast at. She had to hurry down, quick. Putting the small box in her satchel, she readied herself.
Before she could descend, however, she eyed an empty, small, wooden wagon just on the outskirts of the site. It was behind a tall brown boulder.
Slowly inching her body on the edge, then putting one foot on a small ledge, she started her descent. This time, she decided to speed it up a tad bit. For all she knew everything could be a warzone when she got down, so she tried her best to put a strong grip but an agile retreat.
She was halfway down the butte before she even realized it, and the slow, reluctant climbing down the rock formation was becoming easy as pie for her. But she should've known better, because her hand slipped and she found herself being taken over by gravity. The wind blew on her back. Her heart raced. Her lungs took in air. She held her breath. She hit the hot ground before she knew it.
Fortunately, the ground was a mere five feet away from her, and it wasn't exactly concrete or steel. No bones were broken, and Sadie sighed in relief. It was a good thing she decided to be cocky at the later part of her descent.
The other posse should be well on their way now, so Sadie hurriedly jogged to Marshall McCoy. Peter Addington, to her relief, was just laying on the ground with no boot kicking on his ribs. Sam and Cooper were on a water break.
A smile crept on McCoy's dry lips. "Freckles!"
With a slight hesitation, Sadie pulled out the box from her satchel. Anytime now, she anticipated.
McCoy snatched the thing out of her hands, as if it was a long lost belonging of his. Sadie mentally scoffed. Instead of opening the box, he just examined it eye level and twisted and turned it like a detective looking for clues. After a while, he whirled his head around to the men who were digging for him.
"Stop the diggin' boys!" he shouted again. "Ah found it!"
Sadie mentally scoffed again. She was the one who found the box, not him. What a way to treat his people. Then again, it maybe just Sadie's image of Dutch Van Der Linde himself that made her think every gang leader was a charismatic, caring one. Or maybe she couldn't stand McCoy's giddy smile that pushed her buttons.
Banter and relief were heard among the goons who were once burrowing around the sight. All those time with the shovels for nothing, and they could've got their hands on the clue on a much early time. Sadie still couldn't get over the fact that it was on top of the 'finger' all along. She shook her head. There was no sense on dwelling over mistakes. There was a fight coming, and she readied herself for it.
"Ah gotta say, Freckles," started McCoy, "never did Ah regret puttin' ya under mah wing."
"All in a day's work, boss," Sadie replied. She got tired of being called Freckles quite quickly, but it was the only nickname she'll cling to to protect her real one.
"Is there somethin' wrong?" McCoy said.
It took Sadie a while to realize her eyeballs were darting around the place. "O-oh, ain't nothing wrong! Everything's right... we got the second clue."
"Darn tootin'!"
"So, aren't you going to open it?" Sadie asked.
"After the gang's all ready. We gotta round up the whole family first before we open the thing."
"Is... Peter going to be alright?" Sadie asked again, taking a gander at the battered man, who was still on the ground.
"Oh he'll be fine!" McCoy said. "Ain't that right, boy?"
He received no response. With the way they're treating him, Peter is not going to be suit for solving clues and finding boxes on top of rugged promontories.
"Ah gotta say, Freckles. It sure is a long day. Ah can't wait to sleep."
Sadie's eyes suddenly widened. The aspect of fear was plastered on her gaping face. "Y-You'll get your sleep soon, boss."
When Marshall McCoy turned around, instead of seeing only the empty sandy knolls of the New Mexico desert, he saw something that made his heart momentarily stop.
It was the sweet sight of silhouettes of men mounted on their horses, with their rifles and six-irons on their hands, ready to pull those triggers. Every second, another silhouette popped out from the hills, until the number stopped rising at the twenty-fifth gunman. Silence enveloped the site, but it was interrupted by the cocking of revolvers.
"Sadie, who the hell are—"
Marshall McCoy turned his head once again, but this time to the freckled gal. He expected to see her petrified eyes, and a hanging jaw, but he stared down at something different:
The barrel of Sadie's revolver.
*BANG*
The shot didn't come from Sadie's gun, instead, it was from the silhouettes behind McCoy, who was now motionless on the ground— face first on the sand— beside a terrified Peter Addington. A pool of blood started from under his body, and one final twitch from his fingers signified that he got his sleep sooner than he expected. She quickly took the blue little box.
But that lone shot was buried by the sound of more bullets, and soon the gunshots came rapid as if a gatling gun was being fired from the posse. Bullets whizzed past Sadie, and she frantically took cover behind a medium-sized boulder. Her cover spewed powders of sand and rock as bullets came hitting it. With every impact, her body seemed to tense more and more. She fumbled around her revolver and blindly shot at the other posse's direction.
Instead of the sense of accomplishment washing over her, she found herself terrified.
Her plan— that consisted of luring that other posse to McCoy's Boys, so that she could take the second clue for herself— worked. She even signed herself to be a guard overlooking the site to anticipate the posse's arrival. All those weeks infiltrating the doomed gang paid off, but in a way she wanted to get herself out of the fruits of her labor, which was getting shot at by twenty-five gunslingers.
The bullets hit the sand beside her too, kicking up the small particles through the air. She squinted as one tiny fleck entered her eyes. And also her lungs too, so she coughed like there was no tomorrow until her eyes became teary as a result. At least when she raided the Hanging Dog ranch, she had Arthur accompany her. Now, she's by herself, save for several of McCoy's boys who were firing back at their enemies.
Her ears gradually adapted to the sound of gunfire. The ringing stopped. It was time to plan her next move.
That is, if she hadn't already planned it. She remembered her time at the top of that butte, and as such, the small wooden wagon too. If only she could find a way to not get her body pumped by bullets. She looked around, and she found nothing that could help her. She was going to cross her fingers and dash across the horse-drawn carriage a fair distance away from her. However, she needed a bit of courage to that. After all, she was going to expose herself to trigger-itching gunmen.
Sadie took a deep breath. Then another. Then another. Every second she wanted to run was met with a bite of fear. She couldn't push herself to expose her body to bullets. She just couldn't do it... but then—
HISSSSS
Sadie whirled her head around to see where the sound came from:
A stick of dynamite beside her.
That was her cue.
She got on her feet, and dashed for her life to the area of tents, carriages, and campfires. The horses that carried their load were freaking out, neighing and jumping about. The riding horses, however, just took off and flee, since they weren't carrying anything. Sadie eyed her next potential covers so much that she almost forgot that bullets were flitting and whizzing past her, some were mere inches from hitting her thin stature. But to the gunmen's dismay, they couldn't seem to hit the gal that won't die.
The blonde took cover on the rear of a carriage. She started to catch her breath; no way was she going to do it again. She closed her eyes to relax herself, but the sound of a particular dynamite's explosion interrupted her, and her heart skipped a beat once more.
Scanning her surroundings, she saw the wooden wagon. It sat there by its lonesome, wondering what Sadie could possibly do to it so she can save her skin.
"Freckles!" someone shouted on her right. It was one of the men that beat Peter Addington, and he was taking cover behind the familiar rock formation. They met each other's terrorized gazes. "Come here! I'll cover you!"
Did he not see that I pointed my gun at his leader? Sadie thought, but she wasted no time at running for her life and avoiding volley of bullets once again, and took cover beside one of McCoy's goons. It wasn't the blonde one, and he was carrying a shotgun.
"Are you Cooper, or are you Sam?" Sadie panted.
"I'm Cooper," he explained. "Listen, we need to—"
"Over there!" Sadie cried, and a brown horse, mounted by a gunslinger with a mountaineer hat, trotted behind them. The two quickly pointed their guns at the man, who was ready to cock his repeater and put a bullet or two between their eyes. The man fired a shot, missing Sadie, who was on her turn at firing back. With her somewhat accurate aim, she fired two rounds before the brown horse started to carry a limping body.
"Cooper, I—" Sadie started, but when she looked to her friend, his chest had a terrifying amount of blood pooling out of a wound. He didn't say another word when he closed his eyes.
Sadie scrutinized the wooden wagon again. Then it dawned on her: if she ran across to it, there will probably be a lot of eyes fixated on her. If that was the case, her plan won't work. Sure, it was only a few feet from her, but even a for a split second they see her, they'll know where she's headed. She cursed under her breath.
Fortunately for her, she hadn't ran out of luck yet. Beside a motionless Cooper were four large bags of flour, just as large as the burly man's whole torso. Sadie grabbed all bags of flour one-by-one and hurled it across the path to the wooden wagon. It landed exactly where she wanted to, and she quickly snatched Cooper's shotgun and aimed at the bags.
She wished that it would be enough to deploy a small smoke screen, and with that, she pulled the trigger four times. The flour, when first shot at, dispersed a less than ideal amount of cover at first, but when Sadie continued firing, it scattered more than enough cover for her. She ran behind the cloud of white, and soon she found herself beside that wooden wagon she cared so much about. Before the flour finally disappeared, she was practically unseen behind a large boulder, and so was the wagon.
Sadie didn't have time to think about whether or not the gunmen saw her, but she was willing to risk it and continue her plan. She turned the empty cart over, and thankfully, it offered the exact kind of protection she needed with its steel-lined basin. The blonde carefully lifted the back-end of the cart up and dragged it over so that it was sheltering all of her trembling body. There were tiny gaps on the wagon that made breathing possible, but it wasn't near optimal at all.
It was time to play the waiting game, and she just hoped that no one saw her little scheme. The sound of sporadic gunshots and horses galloping was muffled inside, and she figured she'll wait for the fiasco to die down before she finally gets some well-deserved fresh-air.
Sadie Adler waited for what seemed like hours inside an oven.
She painfully waited for more than she wanted to. A few minutes after she first went inside the cart, she heard the pleas of the remaining McCoy goons, followed by gunshots. It looked like the posse she lured in was much more viscous than Marshall McCoy's little band of rookies. Then the image of Peter Addington flashed on her mind. That poor kid. He was probably one of the first ones shot before every single one of the people he helped were killed off. The boy was likely tagging along, just like Sadie with the Van Der Linde gang, but she did more than being kicked on the ribs.
Of course, the rival posse just had to search for the second clue themselves. Thankfully, they didn't completely turn the whole site upside down and a whole lot of them left empty handed. Unfortunately for Sadie, a considerable amount of them stayed to loot the abandoned supplies. She couldn't quite know the exact number of them that stayed so she played safer than usual, then she continued her wait.
Which brings her to her current situation. All of them left a few minutes ago and silence enveloped the deserts once again, so Sadie crawled out of the claustrophobic little oven. Very rarely she gets to enjoy the heat of the desert, but compared to the temperature inside that wagon, it might as well be Ambarino. Besides, the sun was nearing the horizon.
Stretching and wiping her sweat, she glanced at a familiar, formally-dressed man slouching near the butte. She chuckled.
"Hey!" she exclaimed.
Peter immediately jumped, and started to take off on his feet. She should've said a more passive holler.
"Don't worry, I'm Freckles!" she shouted. Peter Addington abruptly stopped, almost tripping once again.
Peter stared at Sadie like she a familiar friend. She wasn't, but he remembered her as clear as the kicks he received from Sam and Cooper. A weary smile formed on his lips, which was cut. As they approached one another, Peter immediately gestured for a handshake to which Sadie gladly accepted.
"Call me Freckles," she greeted. She wasn't going to use her real name anytime soon.
"Peter... Peter Addington." he said in between large breaths. "So I take it you have the second clue, eh?"
"Sure do," Sadie replied, pulling out the tiny box from her satchel. "Here."
Peter barely caught the box, so he fumbled around for a little bit before settling. Sadie just raised an eyebrow. Removing the ribbon, he took off the top of the box and just furrowed his eyebrows.
"What in the bloody hell is this?" his British accent proclaimed through the air.
Sadie looked over the contents of the box, and she was just as surprised at what she saw. It was a rusting revolver. It looked so old that it would probably explode into pieces when fired, and so rusty one can mistake it as a gun painted brown.
"Why would the second clue be a gun?" Sadie asked, gently grabbing it from the box. "I expected something more... more."
"Same here, miss."
"Mrs." the blonde asserted sternly.
Peter didn't respond, instead he lightly took the revolver away from her hands and examined it. "No engravings... no carvings..."
Sadie's spirit plummeted down. A dead-end. She considered the possibility that the gun maybe the treasure— maybe it was some sort of artifact, or it belonged to someone important to the Braithwaites. It certainly was likely. Just as she started to anticipate something big, she was met with rusty old gun that was no use to anybody. Of course, she could just sell it and earn a buck or two if it ended up at least a little important.
Just as she opened her mouth to break the bad news to Peter, the latter slid out the cylinder of the gun, presumably to check the bullets. Peter furrowed his eyebrows.
"Huh," he said. "Now what's tucked in'ere, eh?"
Sadie fixated her eyes on the gun, as Peter pulled out a small piece of rolled paper out of the holes. She gawked. The Brit spun the cylinder slowly, and every second he pulled out yet another piece of ripped paper hidden inside where the bullets needed to be, until there was nothing else left to uncover.
"That could only mean one thing," Sadie muttered, and the two scrambled to put the pieces of paper on the ground.
Now, the pair arranged the pieces of paper on the sand, shuffling every piece to its needed location, like a jigsaw puzzle. The only difference was that the stakes were much higher.
"Clever bastards," was only Peter could say as he and Sadie stared upon the collection papers. All of the pieces formed one thing:
A map.
Sadie Adler and the Braithwaite Gold is my attempt at a fantasy adventure Red Dead Redemption fanfiction, and I hope you enjoy! Constructive criticisim is always welcome.