Dolores and Tempe's horses trotted along at a steady pace. Dolores had taken the lead early in their ride. As loath as she was to admit it, Tempe had never had the best sense of direction. She had once gotten lost in her family's backyard. In fairness to Tempe, the backyard in question stretched over twelve acres. Still, maps and geography were not her strong suit.
While they rode, Tempe's thoughts wandered. She had been on a treasure hunt in Westworld before, but that had been years ago, and very different besides. Her and several other guests had joined a caravan, supposedly looking for the lost gold of the Hernadez gang. On only her first outing to Westworld without her father, Tempe had hoped to get a little closer to Dolores. The fact that the pretty farm girl had absolutely no recollection of her had made the experience seem artificial, which was the exact thing she was trying to avoid.
When a chance came up for some adventure, she had jumped at it. A small group of rough looking men armed to the teeth had spotted her coming out of the Mariposa and one had called out to her.
Seven Years Earlier
Tempe stepped out into the oppressive sunlight of mid-morning. As she looked around the already bustling street, she questioned her decision to disappear on Dolores. She had been looking forward to getting to know more about the beautiful farm girl, but the encounter had felt too scripted. Several times, Tempe heard Dolores say a sentence or phrase that sounded familiar, only to realize that she had heard Dolores say the exact same thing the last time she had been to Westworld.
"You there!" a gruff voice called, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned to see a man in tan britches and a matching vest over a grey shirt. Each hip had a holstered revolver and he also had a rifle slung over one shoulder. Tempe thought she could see the butt of a shotgun over his other shoulder. Tempe's fingers brushed the grip of her own sidearm. The stranger must have seen the motion because he held up his hands, palms out in a non-threatening gesture.
"Didn't mean to unnerve you, Ma'am," he said, his voice like sandpaper, "I just thought you looked like someone who can handle herself." Tempe dropped her hand.
The man smiled, putting his own hands to his sides. He continued, "We're gatherin' a posse to go after the Hernandez gold."
Tempe took in the other members of the group. She could see a few guests and at least five other hosts, every one of them at least as well armed as the one talking to her.
"That's a lot of firepower for a treasure hunt," she observed, "Is this Hernandez still in possession of his gold?"
The man glanced over his shoulder at his colleagues, then back to Tempe, smiling. He said, "Not likely, as I saw him swing myself. But we ain't the only ones lookin' for it. We're offerin' an equal share to anyone interested in lendin' an extra gun."
Tempe thought for a minute. It seemed too easy. But that's why she'd come here, right? To have fun and forget about the real world for a while. And her dad had agreed to let her be on her own even though she was only seventeen. Since her original plan had fizzled out, maybe this was a chance to cut loose and have some fun.
"Alright," she said, "I'm in."
Present Day
But, it too felt constructed. Tempe wanted an adventure, not a theme park ride. She had left the group shortly after they had found their first clue, which in Tempe's mind, might as well have an LED screen pointing right at it.
She had wandered the country side for four days, taking in the beauty of the scenery and enjoying the time to herself. That had been the last time she had been in Westworld without the company of Dolores. Thanks to her dad, she's had the company of an angel ever since.
After several hours, Tempe thought she could see someone in the distance. Pulling her binoculars, she tried to focus on the figure on the horizon. After several seconds, she realized that she could actually see two figures. A man with his hands bound and leashed to a horse and rider were moving toward Tempe and Dolores.
Tempe let a little slack into her reins, letting her horse know that she wanted it to speed up while she used the pressure of her legs to maneuver him around to the right side of Dolores. Once alongside her, Tempe wordlessly handed her the binoculars. Dolores took them and looked down the road, instantly spotting what Tempe had seen.
"What do we do?" she asked.
"Nothing," Tempe said, "At least not yet. I mainly wanted you to see them and be prepared. It's probably just a bounty hunter bringing in his latest payday. Let me take the lead for now. Keep your wits about you. If something goes sideways, just try to stay out of line of sight."
After what felt like an eternity, though it was barely an hour, the two pairs got within shouting distance of each other. The man on the horse wore a tailored gray suit and matching hat. His boots shined as though they had been polished only moments ago. In stark contrast, his prisoner's clothes were worn and appeared to have been repaired by hand dozens of times over through the years. In Tempe's estimation, the man on the horse had to be a guest.
As they came within a couple dozen feet, the rider stopped his horse. His prisoner dropped to his knees, seemingly out of exhaustion. Tempe and Dolores also stopped. Several tense seconds passed as the riders stared at each other.
"Howdy, Ladies," the man called, breaking the silence, "What brings you this far out?"
"Our business is our own," Tempe said, "Maybe we ought to let your business be your own and just move on about our day."
The man chuckled, "Ya see, that presents a little bit of a problem. I happen to know that the only place this road leads to is Pariah. Now as far as I know, there are only three reasons to go to Pariah. One, to catch this son of a bitch," he yanked on the rope tied to his prisoner, causing him to pitch forward onto his face, "Two, to go get your weiner tickled at that crazy ass brothel, or three, to go after the Confederate gold supposedly stashed somewhere along a path that starts in that cesspool of a city. Now, since I already have Slim here and I'm guessing neither has a wiener that needs tickling, I just have one question; Where's the map?"
Suddenly, Tempe noticed that the barrel of the rider's sidearm was pointing at Dolores from behind his hip. Tempe had to admit to herself that she was impressed. She hadn't even noticed him reach for it. Her hand rested on her own gun, though she didn't draw it. If the gun had been on her, she might have taken the risk. But with the gun pointed at Dolores, the risk far outweighed the possible reward. Instead, she decided to play dumb.
"What map?" she asked.
The man's gun came into full view as he swung it around to point at Tempe, causing her to breathe a sigh of relief. A small part of her wondered at the oddity of being relieved that a gun was now pointed at her.
"Don't play dumb with me," he said, "I know you have it. Just hand it over. I'll even let you take Slim here in for the reward."
"Tempting," Tempe said, "But I don't think so."
"Slim?" Dolores suddenly chimed in, "You want to get away from this bastard? Think you could pull things in our favor?"
Slim, who had managed to regain his feet, nodded at Dolores before yanking violently on his binds. The stranger's horse responded by kicking backwards at the sudden irritation. Slim was well out of the way, but the sudden motion distracted his captor long enough for Tempe to draw and put three rounds into his chest.
He fell off of his horse and hit the ground with a resounding THUD! He coughed from deep in his chest, confirming to Tempe her guess about being a guest. He'd had the wind knocked out of him.
Tempe dismounted, as did Dolores. Tempe walked around the horses to the stranger, while Dolores took a knife to the ropes holding Slim. The man had stopped coughing and was sitting on his butt in the dirt. Tempe holstered her gun and held out a hand. The man looked at it for several seconds before he accepted the help to his feet.
"I'm afraid we're gonna have to take your prisoner off you," Tempe said in an amiable tone.
"Aw, come on!" he cried, all traces of faux western accent gone, "I have been trying for that damn map for years. I always thought I had to get Slim to get a hold of it. I can only afford a few days here every few years."
Tempe actually felt bad for taking this opportunity from him, but she wasn't looking for a third wheel. An idea suddenly popped into her mind, a way to give this guy a chance at the adventure he had been looking for, but keep her own vacation to herself. She motioned with her head and walked to her own horse. The stranger followed.
She reached into her saddle bag and pulled one of the bottles of fine bourbon she always made sure she had on her. She turned and held it out to the man.
"What's your name?" she asked.
He took the bottle cautiously. "Travis," he said, "Travis Andrews."
"Look, Travis," she said, "That's the finest bottle of whiskey you'll find in Westworld. Take it, as an apology. Is it possible to extend your vacation?"
"No, I can't afford it," he said, looking from her back to the bottle.
Tempe huffed, "No, Travis, I mean if you wanted to take another week or two off, would your job or family mind."
Travis actually laughed. "No," he said, "I don't really have any family, and the only time I take off work is to come here. I have so much time saved up, my boss is practically begging me to take more time off."
"Okay," Tempe said, "Here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna take Slim and your horse. You'll have to walk back to Sweetwater." Travis opened his mouth, but Tempe kept talking, "When you get there, talk to a Delos employee. Tell them that Tempe Michaels told you that she would pay for two more weeks for you in Westworld."
Travis blinked at her, and at first Tempe thought he hadn't heard her. But then he said, "Wait, you're gonna pay for two weeks of my vacation. This place is forty thousand a day."
Tempe smiled, "Don't worry, I can afford it."
Sudden realization flashed across his face. "Wait," he said, "Wait. As in Michaels' Food Labs?"
Tempe nodded sheepishly. She hated trading on her family's name, but she had messed up this poor man's vacation. She knew how that felt.
"Okay," he said with a seeming mix of relief and confidence, "Okay deal. On one condition. Tell me how you got the map."
Tempe smiled as she mounted up. "Look for a man with an eyepatch in Sweetwater. He has the map."
Travis nodded. He tipped his hat to Tempe as Dolores and Slim mounted up.
"Wait," Dolores said, "He needs supplies."
"Well," Slim said from atop Travis' horse, "These saddle bags have all his supplies. I suppose he could just take them."
Tempe nodded to Slim, who cut the bags free and tossed them to Travis.
"Good luck to you Travis," Tempe said, "I genuinely hope you find what you're looking for."
Travis took another sip from the bottle. He couldn't believe his luck. A starting place for the one treasure hunt he'd been trying for since the first time he'd come here, and two whole weeks to pursue it. And the bonus of whiskey finer than he would ever be able to afford. At this point, a couple days' walk with saddlebags on his shoulder didn't seem like such a big price to pay.
Travis was pulled from his thoughts by a figure dressed head to toe in black on a horse walking toward him. The man in the saddle pulled his horse to a stop, clearly meaning for Travis to stop as well.
"Can I ask you, friend," the man said, "How did you end up carrying your own saddle bags."
"A small misunderstanding," Travis said, his faux western accent fully in place, "But things were settled fairly. If I'm honest, despite what the looks of it, I may have made out the bandit of the deal, as it were."
The man's lips puckered slightly. "May I ask who this misunderstanding was with."
Travis shrugged, "Two women, one of them in a brown duster and grey travelling hat-"
"And the other a blond in a blue dress?" the man in black interrupted.
Travis thought for a moment then nodded vigorously, "Yeah, that's them."
The man in black nodded solemnly. Then he held out his hand. "You mind if I get a sip of that whiskey, Partner?"
Travis shrugged and passed him the bottle. The rider took a long swig.
"That is the good stuff," he said. He handed the bottle back. Then he reached into one of his saddle bags and produced a water skin. He tossed it unceremoniously at Travis.
"Make sure to temper that with water," he said, "It's a long walk to Sweetwater." With that, he spurred his horse into a gallop.
Travis watched him for a moment before shrugging and continuing his walk, ruminating on his good fortune.
