I own nothing, do not sue
But the West of the old times, with its strong characters, its stern battles and its tremendous stretches of loneliness, can never be blotted from my mind, ~Bufflo Bill
The city of Townsville, Arizona in the year 1870! The towns are boomin', the Steam Engines are rollin'! And out of the Wild West is the meanest, rowdiest collection of cowboys and gun-slingers this side of the Maxie-Dixie! Fortune favors the bold, and life expectancy is uncertain! Saddle up partners! YEEHAWW-
(*)
Chunk-a-chunk-a CHUNK-Chunk-a-Chunk-a-CHUNK-chunk-a-chunk-a-CHUNK-Chunk-a-Chunk-a-CHUNK-
TWE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E!
Sleek and slow-moving as a fattened calf, the Citiesville Express Steam Engine charged its dandy way 'cross the Southwestern landscape. Cheerful puffs of gray-white clouds blowing up to the sky. Relaxed and unwary, if a machine could've express (hee) anything. As if the country it rolled through was civilized and therefore it had nothing to fear while traveling. Which was precisely what their pickle-loving, cotten-minded Mayor had assured the world, when Townsville first boomed in the rush for silver against the sizzle of the late afternoon.
The brothers who eagerly watched the train from the ridge intended to show them just how very wrong that statement was.
They were young men, triplets, nineteen years-of-age, and as rowdy and unsettled as the rough overlength that concealed them in their leather dusters and worn-out shirts and clicking spurs. For all they were brothers, they looked nothing akin to each other, save for a vague resemblance in their smirks tucked behind dirty hankerchiefs.
The youngest brother, currently loading his colt forty-five, was chewing his lip as doubled, tripled-checked everything. Under his brown hat, his sweat plastered hair was a dark, sandy blond on an innocent face, like the kind you'd see the masters paint on angels. Well, you know, before you saw the gunbelt. His dark blue gaze was bright, over-eager, but more focused on his brothers than the train rumbling down the tracks.
The middle brother more than made up for the younger's lack of zeal. Indeed, the raven-hair boy's expression, what little could be seen between his Mexican sombrero and his stripped handkerchief, could only be called maniacal. He didn't see the train or his brothers. He only saw, tasted, and breathed for the coming action, and his stocky body was cocked like his shotgun.
The oldest was different from his kin tall and appearing more capable than a boy his age should: his cool demeanor and calculated gaze totally at odds with his fiery red rims and messy auburn hair, loosely tied behind his broad shoulders in a short ponytail. Between his fingers was a cigarillo, methodically worn down to its nub by clear patience.
TWE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E!
Carelessly tossing away the remains of the nub, the redhead pressed cracked lips to repress a smirk, before tugging up his bandana and adjusting the edge of his black Cordovan lower over his brow.
"Let's ride boys."
(*)
TWE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E! The train car was luxurious in the extreme, with ornate seats, gilded windows, and crystal lights twinkling above their heads. It was almost like being in a front room parlor, like the one Professor John Utoniom and his family had left behind them back east, for the second time in their lives.
The Professor shivered slightly at the notice, and forced himself to look around him, first at the amble gathering of fellow travelers around him, and then at his girls, dressed like the perfect ladies he'd always hoped-always known, they would become-they'd become.
Blossom, the oldest of his nineteen-year-old triplets, lived up to the image best, perhaps. She was seated at his right-hand side, as always. As elegant and composed as a church window, Blossom wore a white travel dress with a rose-colored jacket, meant to bring out the unusual violet-pink of her eyes. She was a classical beauty, the sort that transcended the era to be admired by all. With her copper-gold piled in a neat updo, her neck graced by her mother's silver locket, and her eyes demurely fixed on her dog-eared of Uncle Tom's Cabin, her profile brought to mind a statue of a Grecian goddess.
Across from them were his other girls. Both were lovely like their sister, though in their own separate ways. Buttercup, his middle child, was grumbling again as she squirmed in her seat, tugging at the lace of her green bodice before catching Blossom's warning look and dropping her hand. it was hard for her to be contained for long. The brunette needed movement, action, excitement, like a yearling filly. Back home she was always getting into mischief, and John hoped the wider space would give his child the freedom she so clearly needed.
His youngest gave a soft giggle behind a baby blue glove and John fought off a smile. With bright blue eyes and golden hair, Bubbles had been the family's joy and laughter since she was born, always kind with helping hands. Though, her habit of bringing all manners of stray cats and dogs (and other things that belonged on Noah's ark) had gotten a bit tiresome back home.
No, John corrected himself, clenching his pipe in his hand. Not home. Citiesville. Home was before them, waiting on his brother Eugene's ranch, just outside of Townsville. Where he had invited his nieces and their father to come and make a new life. Paying for their train fare and everything.
Five years ago, John Utonium would never have considered it. Never considered bringing his girls back into the lawless country, no matter the potential for wealth and advancement. The West had taken too much from him the last time he tried his luck.
But times were hard. Citiesville was devastated by the War Between the States and didn't look like it would be recovering anytime soon. There was no future for his girls there, save to marry as soon and fast just so they wouldn't stave. That was unacceptable to John.
So westward they went. To home and kin and taking what few belongings they had left: John's books, the family Bible, old letters and papers, and a few pieces of his wife's jewelry for the girls.
Unnerved once again, John reached in his waistcoat for the letter that had started them on this venture, unfolding it with slightly shaking fingers. Again he read the sharp scrawl:
My Dear Brother,
I would hope this finds you and my nieces in better circumstances. However, should it not, I have taken the liberty of including enough fare to take you and the girls west on the next available train. I know you are still haunted by losing Emma out here, but that was the past, John. For the girls, you must look to the future. Townville is no longer a backwater. It is an up-and-coming center of civilization. There are new rails being laid, and I have the means to become wealthy off it. Share it with me, John. This town is full of idiots like you wouldn't believe - wait till you see who they chose to be mayor. We need men of learning and common sense. Come to Townsville. Bring the girls. Seek a new beginning.
Your loving brother, Eugene
P.S.
There is someone I dearly want you to meet.
A new beginning. John closed his eyes. He dearly hoped so.
(*)
TWE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E! A mountainside of dust provided the perfect cover as the brothers' thundering mounts raced for their objective, tight in formation with the redhead in front. In command. As he damn well should be. A jerk of his head and both he and his youngest brother drew their horses closer to the rocking caboose of the train.
In a slick move born of practice, the two bandits leaned to their left, firmly seizing the railing polls and swinging themselves onto the platform. Their riderless horses weren't abandoned for long, however. The middle brother soon had their reins well in hand for when they made their escape upfront.
The redhead locked gazes with the youngest, checking to make sure their charcoal face paint and handkerchiefs obscure their features. Making sure their peacemakers were cocked and ready. Not that they needed to be -these morons they never thought to have means to defend themselves. Never thought they would need too. Never thought it could happen to them.
Not even in their territory.
It was a mistake. One they would sadly have to pay for.
The youngest nodded, and the redhead allowed himself to smirk.
Let's go.
(*)
TWE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E! The advance of progress never failed to impress Blossom Utonium. Only fifteen years ago, she had crossed the west with her family in a covered wagon. She scoffed behind her book as she remembered. A rickety coffin was more like it, totally exposed to the dangers of the open plains. Be it heat, sleet, cold, or unfriendly Indians, the cost had eventually proven to be to great. And had convinced her father to turn the family back to Citiesville. With the impression that he would never expose his family to such risk again.
Well, his portion of the family that is. The portion he was head over. Eugene started up his ranch with his adopted sons, Floyd and Lloyd, the three of them scraping out a hard living in the Boomtown. A living he was willing to share with them.
Blossom could objectively say that she and her sisters were honestly excited. Why wouldn't they be? There was nothing left for them in Citiesville, just broken buildings, and broken dreams.
This could be their new start. For all of them. Buttercup made no secret of her eagerness to uncover every nook ad cranny of their wild new land, and Bubbles, dear, dear Bubbles, had spent the first half of the train ride starry-eyed at the prospect of music and dances and new friends. As for Papa and herself? With their education, there was so much they could do to improve life in their new home. And not only for themselves-
"Girls," Bubbles' sweet voice suddenly interpreted her thought, all puzzled sunshine as she looked out the window, golden head cocked. "What's that man doing?"
Man? Curious, Blossom marked her page and turned to where her sister was pointing. Buttercup followed suit. And all three of the Utonium sisters bore witness to the strange sight of a man galloping full tilt alongside the train. Wearing an oversized sombrero like the Mexicans. Odder still was the fact that he was leading two riderless horses.
"Sure is in a hurry," Buttercup remarked, green eyes lit up in interest. "He's riding like hell's on his heels-"
"Buttercup!" Blossom scolded, thankful that the Professor had risen to go to the lavatory. "Watch your Language!"
Buttercup stubbornly crossed her arms, scowling. "Well, he is-"
Behind them, from the car's rear, there was the slamming of a door, cutting off all further conversation. As one unit, the sisters whipped around and collectively felt their hearts jump into their throats at the sight before them.
In the doorway of the smashed door were two men. And it was very obvious that they were not fellow passengers. They were filthy: Blossom fancied she could smell them from here, and it was not pleasant. If that weren't enough, she could only see their eyes, peering like wolves over the train riders. Gun belts dangled like cowbells from their waist, loud with every dominating movement as the two strolled into the car like it was their own house.
"The Rowdyruff Boys," an old minister's wife squawked, before sliding out of her seat in a dead faint, legs set apart in a shamful manner.
Bubbles squeaked, Buttercup nearly fell out of her chair gapping. But Blossom was ridged, her eyes seeing, but not truly processing as the one with the russet ponytail took center stage and smoothly began to address them as if he was President Lincoln at Gettysburg.
"At ease, everyone. Remain in your seats. We all corporate, and this will be quick and painless-"
"Like the dentist," chimed his blue-clad companion, helpfully. Or at least, well, what he clearly thought was helpful. Blossom blinked, and Auburn Hair stilled a moment and seemed to hold back a growl.
"Yes, thank you, Blue. Now as Mrs. Legs said, we're the Rowdyruff Gang. So here's the deal. Whenever a train passes through our turf, it has to pay toll. But for some reason, the train always forgets, and we have to chase after it-"
He shook his head sadly, and Blossom could hear him smirking as Blue swung an open sachel bag around.
"So if you'll kindly surrender whatever you have in cash and valuables, we will be much obliged," he finished in a rumble. Immediately there was the sound of frantic rustling, as everyone onboard fumbled with white hands to do as the man said.
TWE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E!
Pale-faced, the sisters turned to look at each other.
"Blossom what do we...what do we do?" Bubbles whispered, eyes wide like twin moons. "We don't have anything for them!"
Buttercup snorted and lifted her wrist with her golden bracelet before gesturing to Bubbles' pearl earrings and Blossom's locket. "Cept our jewelry, remember?"
Bubbles gasped, hands flying defensively to her ears. "But...but...those are Mama's...they wouldn't!"
"Wouldn't?!" Buttercup hissed. "Bubbles have you lost your mind?! Their train robbers!"
"M-Maybe if we ask them nicely-" Bubbles mumbled desperately. That was enough for Blossom to snap back to the present.
"Out of the question," she hissed, already reaching behind her neck to fumble with the latch. "Give 'em up girls. It's not worth it-"
"Smart choice ladies," that voice rumbled from beside them. Jumping up, the girls whipped their head up to see that it was their turn, the rest of the train having been deposed of their goods.
And beyond the blind panic of having these bandits so close, some thought in the back of Blossom's brain niggled her with a strange thought. No, not even a thought, more of a ghost of a thought. A sensation. A sensation that this robber -who was much younger looking up close- was somewhat...familiar. How, she couldn't even think to know. She was most certainly not in the habit of associating with criminals or outlaws! But Bubbles was also peering at Blue with a baffled sort of look, head tilted and brow furrowed.
And if the girls hadn't been so panicked, they might've noticed that the boys had stiffened at the sight of them as well. However, Auburn Hair's voice betrayed nothing.
"Hand them over. Now."
Miserable, Buttercup and Bubbles did as they were told, sliding their jewelry off and dropping it into the bag. Blossom tried to follow suit. She really did. But to her growing horror, the latch on her locket chain had jammed.
"It's stuck," she quickly explained -frantic. "I-I can't-"
A finger-long, callous, filthy- slide itself under Blossom's chin, lifting it up so that for a moment, her eyes met his, spying a burning red to shame firelight. Then he lifted it higher, so she was facing the ceiling. Whishing the clasp around to the front, his own fingers then worked on it, and her skin shivered when he mistakenly brushed the porcelain lines of her neck in the process.
After a few moments, she felt the locket give way. And the sudden wetness in her eyes made Blossom jerk her head down and away from him, recoiling and seething.
Howdarehehowdarehehowdarehe!
"Much obliged Pinky," the thief of her mother's jewelry had the nerve to try and soothe. He even inclined the rim of his black hat to her. With a jerk of his head to his companion, the two Rodwdyruff Boys were barging out the other end of the car and were gone. Like they were never there at all.
TWE-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E!
(*)
"Holy Christ," his brother breathed, as soon as they were out of the car, standing at the front of the train now. Its conductor carried on, with no idea that it had just been robbed blind. Brick Jojo rolled his crimson eyes. Again. Morons.
"Holy Christ," Boomer said again, at once looking young. Very young. Fifteen years younger as a matter of fact. "Bro it was...it was them."
"We have no way to be sure of that," Brick snapped back harshly, refusing to allow his mind to linger on the copper-haired girl with the delicate chin. There hadn't been anything special about her. She'd been in the common attire for traveling: her white skirts were layered and trimmed in ruffles and flounces with bustles accenting the rear. A tight bodice fell to her hips with tight sleeves surrounding her wrists. Her hair -red, but far lighter than his own- had been pulled toward the back with curls cascading down the nape of her trembling neck- Furious, he banished the image. No. Not until they were off this train.
Eyes peeled on the dry land around them, he soon spotted Butch, driving their horses close enough to his brothers to swing themselves back into the saddles.
In no time at all, they were thundering away from the rail tracks, Butch, being the trigger happy idiot that he was, whooped and hollered and fired off a few rounds into the air.
There was a reason why Butch's job was to stay with the horses.
"OH HELL YEAH! THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKIN' 'BOUT! WOO NELLY! WE'RE EATING GO TONIGHT!"
A big reason, Brick refected drily. Before clearing his mind and focusing on the ride ahead.
Hey! Hope you enjoyed Merry Christmas!