Ok. Everything starts here.
Sorry for any grammar or vocab mistakes, you know, not everything can be checked.
After a half of an hour the fog finally started to thin down and Jean somehow could look farther than one horse length. He passed a few well known to him landmarks, delighting ubiquitous silence.
He caught himself on thinking about this Marco kid.
If he ended up on Smith's Ranch, it meant he's a foreigner with no place to go - the landlord had this strange tendency to employ all of those, who haven't had luck in the southern states. Therefore, their crew consisted of people with overly different looks and oddly sounded surnames, like his own.
It was very generous of the master, so they'd never questioned it. They could leave when they wanted to.
Hope this whole Bodt will appreciate this.
He didn't have a good feeling about him, but, he never did. Previous year, when they addmited a girl named Ymir, they made a mistake - addmitedly, she quickly befriend Crista, a house maid, but turned out she was absolutely useless in field.
Not that she was weak, oh darn no, she was strong like no one, but also unbelievably lazy and unreliable.
Jean had trust issues, when it came to new workers.
He soonly became surrounded by white hills appearing from the mist. Breathing deeply cold, heavy air, he fasten the horse and turned to a main road leading to the town.
He tried to loosen tensed muscles, but they still ached after the attack. - even breathing was an effort for him.
"Goddamnit." He cursed under his voice. "Why did I agree on this anyway?"
His cough pierced the silence.
"Ah. Armin."
He'd always wonder why this boy with a hair like a halo had so much concern for his person. They didn't grow up together, neither knew each other before landing on this god forgotten ranch. But - as far as he could remember, it was him who always worked with him, sometimes didn't leave his side for days.
It could get annoying sometimes.
Through the fog, Jean saw dim lights appearing from the town. He was closing. He tried to remind himself what master Ackerman said about the new recruit's appearance - his mind started working like a dusty old steam machine.
"Bodt's from western Europe. Southern France as I can tell, I haven't met him yet. Sure he looks like one heck of an European, tall, black hair."
Well, at least he could ride to town and pick up the most french-looking guy up there.
With confusion he entered the White Rock. Sun was almost fully on the horizon, and the mist have worn off. In the pale light, Jean could see the town hasn't changed much since his last visit there, despite of the governor's shallow promises. It was still like two rows of decaying teeth, growing out of a cold, dusty gum of ground. He didn't like the town at all - neither its dead, almost ghostly atmosphere, nor grouchy people living in its poorly built houses.
He was passing the sheriff's, when he heard someone calling out his name with a slight whistle.
He turned around.
"Howdy, mister Kirschtein!"
Hannes, one of sheriff Pixis' deputies, walked slowly to Jean's horse, with his prominent smirk drawing between red cheeks.
"Mornin', mister Hannes." Jean tipped his hat and inspected the man with his sight. "Are you drunk again?"
Hannes laughed.
"On my service? No way, boy! It's goddamn cold, that's it."
He patted the mare's head. Deputy Hannes was a common guess at the ranch, but he would rarely see master Smith - he'd often just come and check up on kids; Eren, Mikasa and Armin in particular. Sometimes even help them with work, out of the sight of master Ackerman.
"How long haven't you been here, Jean? It will be six months?"
The boy sighed, straightening in the saddle.
"Yeah... I've came here to get a new worker. Have you seen someone named Marco Bodt around here?"
Hannes shook his head.
"No, no Marcos here. Wait at the station, the train should arrive soon."
With a heavy sigh, Jean tighten the horse.
"Come on, Clyde."
And as he was leaving his companion, the boy could heard Hannes' surprise.
"But... that's a mare!"
Thud of hooves drowned his voice.
"Yeah, I know!"
The wood under his feet started to tremble, then creak in few places; birds took off at once, cutting the stiff air. There was something big coming.
And clrealy it was the train, considering the hour shown on a great clock on a station tower. Jean was sitting on a bench, squeezed between two proud, oversized citizens of White Rock and counted passing minutes, trying to save his breath.
He got to thirty six, when a huge, menacing monster, shiny from steam and breathing heat, rolled slowly on the station and stopped. People welcomed him with smirks and sighs of relief, and so did Jean, overjoyed that he wouldn't be crushed even more.
After a quick stretching, he pulled out a piece of paper with the newcomer's name on it from his pocket - and waited, observing the flow of people getting in and out of the train. The flow of high hairstyles, tweed, denim, linen, laces, leather, black and white.
Stomps of cowboy boots, and little steps of heels.
It took ages to replace all of the livestock, but eventually the monster started to roll away from the station.
And Jean stood like he was standing.
He adjusted his hat, and looked around nervously - the platform, excluding few people, who were already leaving, was completely empty. No signs of a tall European with black hair.
He crumbled the paper in his hands and threw it on the ground with passion.
Where the hell was he?!
Next train? No way, the next one was coming barely in the evening.
Master Ackerman will kill him for sure. And a death from master Ackerman's hands was one thing he was afraid of the most.
Jean ran his hand across his neck.
He again felt a clench in his stomach, like always, when he was about to get to know the consequences of screwing something up.
Well, there was no hope for him.
With a vision of Eren, choosing a suitable gravestone for him with a loud smile on his face, he began to walk off the platform.
But suddenly, he heard a rising sound of thud coming in his way, till it was to be heard precisely behind him.
Jean turned around to see a man on a horse.
"Pardon me," the man said, "Are you from Smith's Ranch?"
Jean measured him with sight. He sure suited the master's characterization - tall, European looking with a pinch of frenchness, black hair hidden under a black leather hat.
Hell, what thing attached to him wasn't black! His eyes, shirt, trench coat, trousers, boots, even horse were toned in this colour - and he would look like death personified, if there wasn't a contrasting wide grin on his face.
Jean looked at him suspiciously, despite his smile.
"Are you heading to Smith's Ranch?"
The stranger took off his hat, but not the stupid grin.
"My name is Marco Bodt. I'm here for a job."
Jean nudged his shoulders and nonchalantly turned around. The situation was stabilised, so there was no need to worry - now to transport the boy to the ranch. He seemed pretty annoying, though.
"Then follow me." He didn't even looked at him when going for his horse. "Name's Jean. Jean Kirschtein. You'll get to know the rules when we arrive."
Marco nodded wordlessly and watched him getting on Clyde.
Just before they took off, Jean allowed himself for a one second glance at the newcomer.
He didn't know what to expect. The boy was at his age, with olive hued skin and so deep dark eyes, one could drown in.
And the fact his cheeks were sprinkled with freckles made him look somewhat innocent, but not childish.
"Hm." He thought. "Let's see how this guy works."
