Chapter 2

Jet kicked a pebble on the ground as he walked hands in pockets aimlessly around the outskirts of Boot Hill. It skidded across the gravel for a moment, bouncing on and off the ground stirring small clouds of dust into the air, until it finally came to rest in a small tuft of dry grass.

A variety of different sounds escaped the small village behind him and reached his ears. There was the constant low mumbling of people talking in the street, the tired groans of the old man stacking heavy wooden crates outside his store (jeez, why didn't someone just help him?), the barking of that big white dog outside Virginia's house and the excited hollers of playing children.

Viciously glaring back at the source the noise Jet wished he had carried something to plug his ears with.

So much for serenity…

They had stayed in town for almost a week now, living in the house of Virginia's relatives while recovering from a particularly troublesome mission. Seven days… that was about the longest time he'd ever voluntarily spent in one place before.

Rolling up the sleeve of his shirt Jet noticed his bruises were close to faded by now. He also had a minor cut right above his right eyebrow as proof of their struggles. It would soon be nothing but another faint scar now but at the time he received it, it had bled like hell. The blood had poured down into his eye making him literally see red.

But that was all in the past now; they had collected their pay and that always marked the end of a mission, for Jet anyway. He sometimes heard the others discussing details of past assignments but he could never quite grasp the purpose of it. When there's no money in it, what's the use of worrying?

As soon as the wounds faded so would the memories.

Next they were bound to leave for Humphrey's Peak following a request by Clive. He wanted visit his wife, Catherine, and that kid of theirs, Kaitlyn, and of course no one refused him that. Jet almost wished he had. There was a limit to all the joyous family reunion kind of dinners he would attend. He just didn't fit in at the table of Uncle Tesla and Aunt Shalte or at the Winslett's for that matter.

"Drifter my ass," the young drifter muttered to himself as no else was around, "I should be a freakin' hermit." he sat down on a grassy slope some hundred yards from the village. A gentle wind ruffled his white hair and momentarily silenced the now faint village noise.

The idea struck him as very appealing at the moment. Perhaps he was indeed in the wrong line of work? As far as he knew hermits never had to deal with bothers such as pesky teammates.

Sure, Jet was very skilled in the ways of avoiding conversations and escaping social situations, but he had also been granted the most persistent teammates imaginable. And they, that certain brunette whose name shall remain unsaid especially, were equally, if not even more, skilled in the ways of engaging him in the most stupid discussions and annoy him with strange ideas and comments of how he should behave.

Jet exhaled noisily; the things he put up with. To make things even worse he was currently quartered in Virginia's room, sharing the small space with her. As much as he wanted to believe it was just a coincidence he knew his 'friends' far too well not to suspect some sort of matchmaking scheme behind the curtains. Just the two of them, alone at night, who knows what might happen? Jet could just picture Gallows dressed up as some warped, horrible version of cupid, rubbing his grubby hands together, a smug smile on his face as he strung his bow. One arrow and then BANG! In love.

Jet shook his head. That was no picture he wanted haunting his dreams.

But man was Virginia noisy! It wasn't that she snored, she didn't as far as Jet was aware, but she had somehow gotten the strangest idea that he enjoyed midnight conversations of the pointless kind. She would keep him up for hours babbling on and on about the most trivial matters he couldn't even begin to care about no matter how hard he struggled. Not that he ever did, of course.

Well, at least her voice was pleasant, Jet reminded himself, smiling absent-mindedly. It could have been worse. It could have been Gallows.

The thought had him chuckling for a moment before he realized what he was doing.

"It is NOT funny" he told himself with great determination.

He must have done something terrible to anger the guardians in his previous life given the long punishment that was his current existence. Then again, even if there were such a thing as a previous life he probably wouldn't have lived one. He was special after all. The whole idea was that the soul is reborn in a new body, right? Well, suppose someone didn't have a soul? What then?

Jet shook his head more fiercely than he had first intended.

Let's not go there again…

He had enough trouble as it was with this whole birthday-mess. Yes. That was how it would undoubtedly turn out: one huge freaking' mess. Of all the stupid ideas she had to come up with that one…

On a positive note, Jet thought as he watched a piece of paper sail toward him carried by a gust of wind, if he survived this birthday-thing it'd be another year until the next time. The paper landed an arms-length away. It kind of looked like a torn out page from some old book. There was writing on it and something that looked like a map.

A whole year… Jet mused while reaching to pick up the page, and by then, who knows, I might already be a hermit.

xxxxx

Virginia danced out through the front door whistling a jolly tune as she left the house. It was one of those ridiculously beautiful days that just made her want to do little pirouettes of happiness instead of simply walking.

The warm sun shone upon the ground and the people that walked it while at the same time a welcome cool breeze fought off the clamping heat that so often plagued sunny days in the wasteland. The sky was a gentle light blue with the occasional fluffy white cloud sailing peacefully by.

Looking at the birds settled on the rooftops, singing their happy songs, Virginia smiled a wide smile of contentment. She recalled similar days from her childhood before her father disappeared and her mother succumbed to the illness that would eventually be the end of her. Needless to say they were memories as fond as memories can get. Even for a drifter it was good to come home once in awhile.

Suddenly struck down by an irrational feeling of guilt Virginia stopped dead in her tracks, no trace left of the sunny smile that once played on her lips. Here she was, happily strolling around her hometown, stopping for brief chats with familiar faces simply and basking in the comfortable feeling of belonging while Jet had never once known such an experience.

It was of course silly of her to feel guilt over something that was really no fault of hers whatsoever. There was no way she could mend his past and she had had no involvement in shaping it. Still, her sunny mood dropped significantly.

Jet despised pity, she reminded herself, putting on a fake smile even though he wasn't there to see. He wouldn't want her to worry. In fact he might hate her for it and she couldn't have that, now could she?

The birthday present. She would raise his spirits with the perfect birthday present. Virginia clasped her hands together in a gesture of resolve. Her eyes set firmly on the ARMs workshop across the small space that was the town square Virginia commenced a determined stride.

She nearly tripped as she was suddenly struck by a most horrible realization. The ARMs workshop. It was really the only store in town. Except for the very necessary grocery store of course, but that was utterly useless when it came to gift shopping.

Feeling the early stages of panic wash over her Virginia closed her eyes tightly, took a deep breath and held it. She had to calm down, to keep her head cool.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6…

She had to consider her options.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

Traveling too another town was out of the question with the party scheduled for the very next day. She briefly played with the idea of postponing the whole thing but that somehow felt wrong even though it wasn't actually Jet's birthday to begin with.

Maybe she could make him something herself? Knit something? A new scarf perhaps, to replace one of the tattered, old ones he presently wore? It was actually not a bad idea except she didn't know the first thing about knitting.

To be honest, crafts of any kind had never really been her strongest side. Just take a look at her attempt at baking hidden in the back of the refrigerator. Luckily Jet wasn't a picky eater.

Virginia sighed. It was undoubtedly a good thing that she had spent her childhood honing her marksmanship skills instead of her cooking skills. Who knows what the world might have looked like now, had she prioritized differently? But that didn't really help her right now.

Wait a moment… Virginia suddenly remembered their conversation from earlier. Clive claimed to have bought Kaitlyn a present. But he had never mentioned where… She would have to ask him.

Then again, maybe something ARMs related was the right thing to get, anyway? At least those were things Jet was familiar with. Getting him something like say scented candles might only confuse him. And that was not the reaction she sought to invoke.

Breaking from her present train of thought, Virginia raised an important question: What kind of response did she expect, anyway? Jet wasn't exactly generous when it came to reactions. Sometimes she found herself wondered how someone could be blessed with such a blank, emotionless face. Then again, it fit his personality.

Anyhow, the important question remained. Was she setting herself up for a massive disappointment?

She knew what she wanted. That one was easy. She wanted to see Jet smile. She wanted him to give her a tight hug as a token of his gratitude and whisper into her ear as he held her close, that he loved her gift just as much as he loved her.

Virginia blushed a deep red at the images conjured by her mind. If only…

But alas, that was nothing but plain old wishful thinking. The chances of it actually happening were about as big as Jet donating his share of the mission payment to orphans. It just wouldn't happen.

Virginia sighed. She remembered a time when she still saw him as nothing but an infuriating, uncaring outlaw, a valuable asset to the team maybe, but nothing more. When had it changed? Had he changed or was it only her image of him?

The answer probably lay somewhere in between. Jet still came off as uncaring on many occasions and his catchphrase was still an indifferent 'whatever', but the fact he was still a part of the team despite his many threats to leave spoke differently. And sometimes, albeit still very rarely, he would even try to be nice to her. Which basically meant he would actively partake in conversations, compliment her leadership skills or simply apologize when he was being an ass.

But were those subtle changes enough to explain her warmer emotions toward him? Hardly. He was still very capable of being the same infuriating, uncaring outlaw she first had come to know. That part of him she had learned to accept over time but it was hardly one of his most lovable sides.

Then there were times when he ceased scowling, when he opened up if only for a brief instant. There was always something insecure about him then, something she felt rather than saw. It made her want to hug him so bad she had a hard time restraining herself.

There were times when he would valiantly protect her in battle then only to claim he did it by reflex or simply because he thought it would be a disadvantage for the team to loose its leader. It wasn't like he really cared. Not at all. Of course, by then he was usually blushing and that was kind of cute.

Anyhow… Virginia shook her head. She'd wasted enough time already. Deciding to have a look inside the ARMs workshop before she made up her mind, she quickly made it across to the wooden building by the town gates.

The air inside was still and smelled of grease and gunpowder, scents greatly familiar to any true drifter.

The ARMs smith, a middle aged man with the unfair name of Libera, looked up from his newspaper as Virginia entered. He had worked a lot on her ARMs back when she was still a resident in the village.

"How can I help you today, Virginia?" he asked as she approached the middle of the store. Before he spoke she had barely noticed him, her gaze traveling across the crates of ammunition and various other ARMs related merchandise such as holsters, cases and racks of different kinds and materials.

"Oh hi," Virginia turned to face him, "Um, I'm kind of looking for a gift for someone…it's his birthday"

"I see." Libera smiled, "Not every day I get people in here looking for birthday gifts."

"I can imagine." Virginia smiled in return. Incidentally her father had done much of his gift shopping in ARMs workshops. Well, at least for Virginia. Her mother had never been much into weapons.

The fair-haired man stroked his moustache in a thoughtful manner, looking around his small store. "Can't say I have much in the ways of gift material in here…unless you want to give him a clip of bullets or a decorative gun-rack?"

Virginia felt her heart drop. Her suspicions were confirmed. She was now doomed. "No, I'm looking for something more special than that" she managed a weak smile despite her diminishing spirits.

"I can imagine" he mimicked her response from earlier, smiling knowingly. Virginia wondered briefly if perhaps Gallows had paid him a visit earlier. The Baskar tribesman was the equivalent of a bored, middle-aged housewife when it came to gossiping.

"I might just be able to help you still" Libera claimed. "You see…" he began searching his many pockets, "…I found this a couple of days ago when I was cleaning the shop…" throwing a couple of pocket lint entangled screws from one pocket over his shoulder onto the floor he went on searching the next. "…Now where in the world did I put it?" he muttered as he repeatedly came up with no results. When he had searched the same pockets twice he finally gave up, "…I seem to have dropped it somewhere." he sighed regretfully.

"What was it?" Virginia wondered, riding a wave of anticipation.

Libera gave her a secretive look. He then looked around him to ensure they were alone in the room, an action that struck Virginia as incredibly silly considering the small size of his store. When he looked at her again he seemed about ready to share with her his most guarded secret.

"It was a treasure map"

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And so the story takes a surprising new turn...