Rocking steadily along the river called Al made Colton White uneasy. Although he could admittedly compare it to the feel of traveling horseback, with a chilled wind rushing past his head and the footing underneath unsteady, the steamboat just didn't offer the same strength and control as he traveled.
It had been two years since Cole had killed a man named Thomas Magruder, a nasty confederate veteran who had let greed corrupt him. He had tried to lead a gang of fools to find a legendary city of gold, and he finally succeeded, but it was at the cost of his own life, which he paid directly to Cole himself.
Trees and the occasional small village passed by on the riverside, the steamboat filled to the brim with rich folks and poor men alike. Even with such an array of folks, something kept him from feeling like he fit in with any of them. He hadn't found a single place to belong since killing Magruder.
The past two years after the incident had been filled with a little of nothing. It was different to hunt alone, though, as before his trouble with Magruder reared its filthy head, Cole lived off the land with his father, Ned White. Ned was ruthlessly killed by one of Magruder's posse members named Reed, though, initiating most of his need for revenge. However, avenging his father didn't make hunting any less lonesome.
"Excuse me, sir, but I hear you're a man who sells prime fur. Might that be true?" asked an older lass clothed in a ruby red dress, taking him out of his thoughts.
Before even speaking to her, Cole knew these were the kind of individuals who bought his furs for fancy clothes and decorations.
"You hear right, miss. What might you be lookin' for?" Cole answered, dropping his bag of furs onto the wooden deck of the boat.
"Oh, I do hear wolf fur makes the most cozy and beautiful of coats. Would you happen to have any?"
Cole rustled in his pack for a moment before pulling out a large gray and white pelt.
"I think I have just the thing," he teased.
The fur shimmered in the early morning sunlight, the gray appearing more like silver.
He knew she wouldn't appreciate the story behind the fur, which had been a Hell of a kill, taking seven arrows to the head before it finally died from bleeding out.
"It's simply gorgeous! I must have it! What are you asking for it?"
Cole snickered.
"Seven dollars, or some gold. You now how it goes." Cole decided to charge a dollar for each arrow it took to kill the beast. That didn't even count in all the time he spent skinning and tanning the hide to the best of his abilities.
The woman seemed a little distressed, but she didn't argue, a smile forming from her rose red lips.
"Gold it'll be," she replied, taking a small pouch from her breast pocket. She then pulled a small piece of gold from it and held it out to him.
Cole's lip twitched and he looked upon the gold with scrutiny. After a moment of consideration, he blinked and gave a disheartened look to the woman.
"M'am, this is fool's gold. Pyrite, is the real term. It idn't worth a thing."
The woman gasped and retreated her hand as if he had snapped at her.
"How dare you! Are you accussin' me of somethin'?" she demanded.
"I ain't sayin' anything like that. Lots of good folk get fooled by this stuff. That's why it's called fool's gold. I'll still take cash if you got it," Cole offered, but the woman was furiously shaking her head and had no interest.
"No thank you! Good day!" she huffed, stomping away from Cole, who shrugged. He knelt down to place the fur back in his bag.
"Now hold up, you said seven dollars? I'll take it off your hands, if you don't mind," a man with a wired bear and spurred boots asked.
Cole nodded and gave an 'Mhm', standing back up with the fur in hand.
The man pulled seven dollars from his pocket and gave it to Cole, who was impressed that the man had pulled through. A lot of people, as had happened with the woman, talked a lot of big talk regarding his furs.
"Here you go, then. Much obliged, sir," Cole said, tipping his hat to the man.
"Oh, no, thank you. I can only imagine how hard it was to take this one down. Wovles are getting' harder to kill anymore. Anyway, the name's Carter. What brings you out this way?" Carter asked, throwing a hand out in front of him.
"Cole," he replied, shaking hands with the man after he placed the cash in his vest pocket. "I'm headen' to Hitchens. Hear it's got a nice market, so I'm hoping I can get rid of some of these things"
"Is that right? I'm headin' there, too! Got family down there. You're right about the market; they've got a whole lotta' trading that way, thanks to the trading post."
Cole leaned against the metal railing of the steamboat, a thin mist from the river brushing against his face as he listened. In the distance, he saw a large boardwalk, and knew it had to be Hitchens.
"I certainly hope it's worth my troubles," he mumbled. Lord knows I've had enough of them.
"I'm sure you'll do fine, friend! Maybe I'll see you there! Anyways, thanks for the fur," Carter hooted before walking off to talk with other folks on the boat. Cole felt the man was nice enough, but the need to be weary of strangers was an important one.
The boat reached the boardwalk and docked, most of the passengers disembarking. Along the riverbank and by the boardwalk were stagecoaches, awaiting their respectful clients. Up from the boardwalk was a large wheat field, a path down the middle. At the very end near where the sun was rising was Hitchens.
Cole began walking, stagecoaches passing him with ease. They were filled with pompous folks in dresses and suits, fanning themselves as if the morning sun were boiling. Cole found no trouble going down the dirt path, the walk shorter than it appeared from the riverside.
When he made it to the front of the riggidy looking down, some of the stagecoaches hadn't even made it yet, the few that had being emptied. The town front was brimming with life, the store fronts open and a few people shouting their great deals down the alleys.
The buildings of Hitchens looked old and worn, but the town itself was large. The main shops were all in a large cross shape, with a multitude of houses and smaller businesses dotting around behind the main shops. Every corner, he saw life, and it was busier than he was accustomed to.
"Oh, dear! There's the trading post! I better get my ma' something antique or she'll have my skin on her wall!" a lady hushed to her presumed husband, and the man nodded as if he were paying attention and both of them set off to the farthest right corner of the road.
Cole followed them. The building was large, its doors propped wide open to allow an easy flow of traffic. Inside appeared disorganized, tables and booths scattered around. Food, antiques and other junk lined them, and Cole wasn't sure who was selling and who was buying.
At the back of the post was a small office, the word "Manager" Scrawled across the top of the door. Cole figured that would be the best place to inquire about selling, and the door was open, so pushing through the crowd, he went to it.
He gave a curt knock on the open door, trying to avoid looking inside until he heard a booming "Come in!". Cole obliged, ducking under the door slightly. Sitting at a desk in the small room was a large, older man with short curly gray hair and a short beard. A cigarette was resting on his lips as he scrawled away at some papers.
"What can I do for ya'?" he asked, sitting back in his wooden chair.
"I'm interested in selling," Cole quietly said, feeling a sense of dread he couldn't understand.
"What might ya' be selling?"
"Furs and bones," he answered.
The man stood up, slamming a hand no the table. Cole didn't move.
"I'll be! Where ya' been, son? We ain't had furs here in weeks! Had a guy that use to sell 'em, but his ol' lady had a baby and he's been out since." The man stood up and dusted some cigarette ashes from his bulky brown overcoat.
"Name's Auger Doucet! Welcome to the Hitchens' trading post!"
"Cole." The two quickly shook hands, the man's grip powerful against Cole's own.
"Tell you what. You're new here, and we've had folks askin' about furs forever. Mostly them rich ones, the tourist, but business is business! People even sell fur clothes here, but I guess them types of people prefer to have their own experts do it."
"Now, if you do good business here, and you wanna' stay, we'll talk further arrangements."
"That's mighty kind of you," Cole answered
The man started walking out of the office, and Cole followed him, watching him walk almost as if he were prancing, as if he had everything in the world to be proud of underneath his boots.
"Well, I gotta' make sure my people are okay and have what they need in good ol' Hitchens, and right now, that's you! Go ahead and set up here at this booth, and we'll check on you later," Auger said, stopping at an empty booth near the opposite end of his office.
Cole nodded and gave the man another thanks before he started setting up. Auger went off to check on other patrons of the post, and as Cole laid out his furs, he hoped he wouldn't have to speak to the man for a long time.
He had two more wolf pelts, a deer skin, three coyote skins, an elk skin, the skin of a bison cut into four pieces, a rough quail skin, and two mink skins he had been given from working for an older women a long time back. He also had the skull of a wolf he had found and not killed, some deer antlers, hooves, and most notably a bear skull. It was a lot he needed to sell, but he hoped Hitchens would have the kind of people that found use in all parts of the animal.
"First time here?" an elderly woman at the booth next to him asked. Her hair was short and a shiny silver, her clothing a sack like dress. Her table was lined with stones and antiques.
"Yes, m'am. I'm just trying to see where it takes me," Cole said, leaning back on a booth corner and watching business unfold within the post.
"Those are just beautiful. Did you kill and tan them all yourself?" she asked.
"All but the minks. You interested in any of them? Cole asked.
"I might be. It just depends on how much I sell today," the old woman chuckled.
As she said that, a young boy and his mother walked up to the booth and began haggling with the old woman about some dishes. It was then that Cole finally had his own customer. It was a young looking woman who looked like a hunter, her outfit made of leather and furs. She had short black hair that was pressed back by a tied strip of a flour sack.
"Is that a bear skull?" she asked in an unfamiliar accent, tapping her finger near the large piece.
"Yes, it is. Killed it myself some time ago."
"Really?" she asked, straightening her back in some awkward manner. "Did it attack you?"
Cole nodded, her interest sparking his own interest. He picked up the head, its large canines stuck in an everlasting grin.
"Sure did. Was hunting coyotes a few months back, and I didn't find any coyotes but this fella' sure did find me. Was a big grizzly, claws like scythes. I was being quiet of course, tryna' hunt, but this thing was quieter. And before I could turn around, it was on me."
Cole hadn't told the story in quite a while, and he would have stopped at that point any other time, but the farmer seemed genuinely interested. He hoped his story would make her more likely to buy it.
"My shot gun was knocked from my hands, and I thought that beast had me. I was smaller than it, though, and was able to get myself free before its claws came down on my neck. I grabbed my gun, and after more shots than I can remember, it went down. Right here, you can see where I hit it," Cole said, pointing to a few small holes in the top of its head. The farmer nodded in amazement.
"Seems like such a waste to sell it, then! But, since you are, what're you asking for it?"
"Five dollars-" Cole began.
"Gun! What might you be doin'? If Auger sees you here, your hide will be on that man's booth!" the older woman asked.
"I'm shoppin', granny! My money is as good as anybody's! Why, you got something good, too?" the farmer laughed.
"Well, I guess you're right. You won't know what I got if you don't come and look!"
The farmer looked back to the skull, still in Cole's hands, and sighed.
"I'll take it, buddy," she said, as if Cole had been trying to haggle with her. She handed him five dollars and he handed her the skull. When it was within her hands, she opened and closed its jaws a few times, nodding her thanks to him. He watched her step over to the elderly woman's booth, holding the skull against her side.
The two talked for a while, and in that time, Cole managed to sell a coyote fur, a piece of the bison pelt, and he traded his two minks for a bit of gold. He was amazed at how well he had done, and hoped that by the end of the week, he'd have his whole stock sold out.
"Now, I need this, gran1 One dollar, and that's it!" the farmer girl yelled. When she saw peering eyes, she hushed her voice. "One dollar."
"Three, and that's final!" the old woman argued.
"One now, and I'll give you some vegetables from our harvest when the time comes. You know where the farm is, and you know you'll get 'em!" the farmer girl offered.
Cole could see the old woman weigh the offer for a moment, then she nodded.
"Fine, but I get the best picks!" she spat.
"Yeah, you ornery thing," the farmer sighed.
The girl and the lady exchanged their fare – cash for a small bottle – and parted their ways. He was a little curious at what item could cause such a rukus between the two, but he ignored his curiosity, hoping to sell more of his own items before the post closed.
He didn't, however, and towards late noon everyone was beginning to close up their stalls. He decided to do the same, taking down all he had left. As he put them in his bag, Auger walked by with a man at his side.
"You said you saw her here?" he asked the man at his side in a hushed tone.
"Mhm. Princess told me."
"Well, find her before she leaves town – if she hasn't already. And make sure she's alive, Grayson," Auger ordered. The man named Grayson nodded in obedience and hurried out of the post.
"Ah, Mr. Cole! How was your day?" Auger asked. Cole had tried to pack his bag and leave before the man had noticed him, but as he threw his bag on his back, he was caught.
"I did just fine. I reckon I'll be back tomorrow," Cole wagered, and Auger laughed.
"Wonderful! And since you seem new around here, you ought to hit up the bar! Get you a nice drink and see what tomorrow brings! I'll see you then!" Auger bellowed, the sound almost forced. He gave Cole a pat on the shoulder before he, too, left the post.
Cole walked outside and looked around at what Hitchens offered. Lots of restaurants and bars, giving him plenty of choices. He decided on the bar where the most people seemed to be heading.
It was a simple bar with the name 'Rust', and rightfully so, the front practically falling apart. The townsfolk seemed to flock to it, though, and Cole decided he would trust it.
Inside sat all sorts of people, from the rich to the poor and even a few trollops. Cole took a seat at the bar itself, letting his back rest from the heavy bag.
"What'll it be?" the bartender asked.
"Whiskey," Cole replied. In short time, he had downed the shot quickly. It burned as it went down, cheap and far from smooth, but it did the job for him.
"Well, I'll be. You're already hittin' the bar?" You must've done mighty fine here."
Cole arched back to see Carter, the man from the boat, taking seat next to him. He had the largest, most ridiculous cowboy hat Cole had seen, but he wore it well.
"I guess so. Hitchens idn't a bad little place."
"That is sure true. Got rid of any more of them furs?" Carter pressed.
"Quite a few, and hopin' for more tomorrow."
"That fur I got from you made a nice present for my brother and his wife. Say he's makin' a blanket out of it for the winter." Carter asked for some beer from the bartender.
The two sat in silence for a while, Cole taking in the idle guffaws of the patrons aroudn him. The bar was bustling, and it made him just a little uneasy.
"Say, can you tell me anything about that Auger fellow that runs the trading post?" Cole asked, getting another shot of whiskey.
"Auger Doucet? He's an odd fellow. Ain't much to look at, but he sure knows how to do business. All about the money, even though he's got plenty of it. Just a businessman," Carter assured.
"Seems like he's a little shady, to me."
"Auger's always been a little out there, lookin' for something. Money, items, people. Whatever keeps him busy and helps keep his status in Hitchens." Carter took a long sip of his beer. "Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear!"
Cole didn't have time to ask as Auger lumbered through the door of the bar. A few folks hushed up, a short wave of awkward silence echoing on the bar's wooden walls, but most ignored the large fellow. Slowly, he made his way to the bar, stopping to talk to just a few people.
"Here he is, lookin' for somethin' now. Wonder what is is," Carter said, more to himself than Cole.
Auger finally made his way to the bar, where without hesitation, he walked behind the counter. The bartender didn't appear too startled by his action, and none of the other occupants seemed to care, either.
Auger leaned in towards the bartender and began to whisper, Cole hardly catching his words.
"Kay...Pactolus..."
The bartender nodded, his eyes wide as if he'd seen the Devil himself. He pointed a shaky finger towards a corner of the bar, leading Cole and Auger's eyes both to follow.
Only one person Cole could identify was the farmer from the post who had bought the bear skull. She sat alone, tapping her finger next to a beer bottle.
Before Cole could look back, Auger was walking towards that direction. Cole only watched in curiosity as he stopped at her table, leaning against it with his own curiosity. He said something to her, but Cole couldn't hear him. She only shook her head in reply, taking small sips of her beer.
Auger's audacious smile faded, and his face scrunched in disgust.
"I know already. Now, this can go the easy way, or the hard way, and let me assure you, miss, that I'm okay with either."
The farmer laughed and leaned in her chair.
"Or what, Auger? You gonna' kill me?" she teased.
"If you don't cooperate, you're gonna' wish I'd killed you," Auger threatened, the words hushing most of the bar.
The farmer sighed, holding her beer bottle to her lips for a moment. She twitched her upper lip, downed the rest and stood up. Auger crossed his arms and nodded toward the crowd. Cole looked to see where he might be nodding, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
"Well then, I best kill you first, shouldn't I, Mr. Doucet?" the farmer said. She reared her right hand back, a tight grip on the beer bottle, and though Auger was larger than her, she smashed that brown bottle across his face, shattering it. He stumbled back, specks of blood falling to the ground. Cole slid off his seat, and the bar gave a collective gasp before hushing back up.
"You good or nothin' whore!" Auger hollered. "Halier, get this bitch outta' here!"
A scrawny fellow, smaller than Cole himself, stepped from the crowd. He had a pistol in hand, but he didn't even have it aimed at the farmer.
"That there's the deputy," Carter said.
"Bet he keeps the peace real easy," Cole joked Carter didn't reply.
"Auger, look what you've done, here. You've ruined everyone's good time!" the farmer laughed.
Auger rubbed his face vigorously, blood smearing on his outfit.
"Only thing been ruined is your chance of getting' out of her alive, miss," he assured under his pain.
Halier, the deputy, placed his gun back in its holster. In a quick leap, he was on the farmer, his hands around her throat in a choak hold. They struggled for a moment, he bar in a hushed enthrallment at the ordeal.
As they struggled, Cole was amazed at the stamina both of them had. Every time Halier thought he had secured the farmer, she wriggled free, her small size her best defense. Halier did get wise at her last attempt to fall under his arm, and kept tight. Cole admitted to himself he was impressed with her next move as she smashed her head back into the deputy's face.
"My nose!" Halier wailed, both his hands releasing the girl.
The farmer used the distraction to trip Holier, not before snatching his gun from its holster. It hadn't been properly secured, and Cole, just for a moment, questioned the deputy's competence.
Auger grunted, but he held his hands up in compliance as the farmer held the gun out to him. Holier kept his hands over his bruising face.
"If I see you again, Auger, then may the Lord have mercy on your soul, you overfed pig," she snarled. She began backing up towards the exit, the patrons clearing for her.
Auger laughed for a short moment, though he kept his hands up.
"First folk to take her down gets an ounce of gold from me, but I need her alive," he chuckled.
Cole thought folks would jump on the idea of an entire ounce of gold just for subduing some tiny farmer, but with the gun in hand, none of them seemed too happy to get the gold at the trade of their own life. A few folks seemed edgy, almost ready to jump at her, but none budged.
Cole considered an ounce of gold and how it could give him a nice vacation for a while. And as he watched the chance slowly dwindle, he figured he'd have the best chance at capturing her compard to the rest.
He then waited. The farmer kept backing up, giving just a few quick glances behind her to see if anyone was up to the challenge. Cole tried not to look suspicious, but he wasn't sure if he were doing a good job or not.
The farmer was nearly next to him, and with a few more steps -
He lunged forward, like a cougar on its pray, and grabbed the wrist that held the gun. He twisted her wrist, the metal piece hitting the floor with a loud clunk.
"Screw off!" she demanded through grit teeth, and Cole was impressed with how feisty she was.
With the gun gone, he placed both his arms around her neck. She struggled ferociously, as any prey would, but he was quicker. He wasn't one to hurt a lady who seemed innocent, but he considered capturing her a better fate than if Auger had, and so with a solid punch, he knocked her cheek and she fell unconscious with a gasp. Cole held her body a moment longer, but when he was sure she was out, he put her to the ground.
"I'll be damned, son!" Auger said, clapping his hands. Soon the entire bar was clapping for him. "I ought to make you deputy here. Seems Holier can't get his head on straight," Auger insulted, but Holier paid no attention to him, dabbing his nose with his shirt sleeve.
"Holier, when you're done pissing around, take her to jail. And hurry! If she wakes up and escapes, I'll scalp you!"
Holier nodded and went to the farmer's body. He tried to lift her on his own, but failed, and so Carter rushed in to help.
"Nice job, Cole!" Carter praised, picking up the farmers legs and carrying her out of the bar with Holier.
"Cole, right? I have some business to attend to, as you may have guessed, but if you're lookin' to sell again, come see me tomorrow, and I'll get you that gold I promised! One full ounce. Get yourself some rest now, though, as I can bet how famished you are." Auger dusted his suit of and started to leave the bar.
"Bar keep, whatever this man drinks is on me," Auger told proudly. The bartender nodded, but Cole didn't feel like drinking anymore. He had too many questions regarding what just happened and who the farmer was. Moreso, who Auger really was. And as the man walked out of the bar, Cole wondered what dark secrets Hitchens may be hiding.