Yeah, Okay. This chapter didn't really need to exist, but I wanted to squeeze in one more minor character cameo...

For Eustace, the drudgery of lawlessness was proving hard to bear. Since daybreak, he'd been trapped with Eddie in some no-name boarding house, stewing in a mélange of smoke and body odor. The back room that harbored them bore the scars of their endeavors. Discarded cigarette butts littered the carpet, and maps, checklists, and receipts lay scattered everywhere. A stack of Wanted posters occupied the table – it was a shopping list of sorts, a roster of degenerates whose crimes ranged from theft to assault to drunken slaughter. They weren't the sort of men Eustace was accustomed to employing, but these were desperate times.

As the clock struck noon, Eddie tossed one final leaflet on the stack. "Welp," he said, plumes curling from his Lucky Strike, "that takes care of firepower. The foreman has his marching orders, logistics look good…things are finally shapin' up."

The teenager indulged in a languid stretch, then rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. Eustace fidgeted impatiently.

"Don't celebrate just yet," he chided. "We still need horses for the last leg of the trek. Wasn't Adler supposed to handle that? Where in blazes is he?"

"Beats me." Eddie took a deep, long drag, then slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Damn," he murmured, exhaling slowly. "I could really use a drink."

Tick-tick-tick. The sound of the rail baron's pocket watch lengthened the silence.

"Eddie," ventured Eustace, as he played with the chain on his timepiece, "I've been thinking…how big is the reward on Tex?"

"Her again?" Eddie scratched a bug bite, but didn't open his eyes.

"An outlaw of her caliber must be worth a pretty penny, don't you think? Much more than these bottom-of-the-barrel miscreants Terry dredged up."

"Do you have a point, Useless, or are you just takin' your tongue for a walk?"

"Come on, Eddie, think. We could take her in. Recoup some of our losses."

He snorted. "Hate to piss on your parade, compadre, but you won't get the payout you're lookin' for. Her bounty's for assault and battery. It ain't worth the trouble."

"Assault? That can't be right. I've seen grown men quail at the mere mention of her name – surely her trade is widely known."

"You don't get it, Strych. Her puny reward is why they're scared of her. They know that she could do away with them and face zero consequences. You see, Useless, there's this little thing called 'the burden of proof'. Tex doesn't just kill people – she makes her victims disappear. Without a body, the law can't prove they're actually dead. No body, no murder." He chuckled as he crushed his cigarette against the tabletop. "I gotta hand it to the bitch. She knows her stuff."

Eustace stroked his chin. "There must be someone willing to pay for her. A rival outlaw, perhaps? A jilted lover? The family of a missing victim?"

"God, you're a bore. Why does every conversation have to be about your bank account? It's exhausting."

"Well, I wouldn't expect a gambler to appreciate the nuances of finance," he shot back. "Shall we discuss some of your specialties instead? Cheap booze and loose women, perhaps?"

"Hey. Don't knock 'em 'til you try 'em, Strych."

Eustace made a face. "I'm not like you, Eddie. I drink wine, not spirits, and when it comes to the fairer sex, I have no choice but to take a circumspect approach. Men of my social standing are at constant risk of falling prey to greedy Jezebels who want to get their hands on our fortunes. It's one of the reasons why I haven't married."

"Aww, don't let it get you down, Useless. Look at it this way – with teeth like yours, you could always court a mule."

Eustace sighed heavily. It wasn't worth the argument.

Moments later, a knock came at the door, and Blix nudged it open a hair. "I am sorry to interrupt, Mein Herr, but Abraham Adler is here to see you. Shall I send him in?"

"Stop asking permission to do your job, you servile buffoon. Just do it."

"Of course, Mein Herr. I apologize."

The door creaked as it swung fully open, and Muttface gangled into view.

"Got an update on the hosses, boss," he said. "I found us a rustler that's willin' to throw in – he says he's got a plan to pinch some Appaloosas."

Eddie pulled out another cigarette. "Go on."

Muttface mistook this for an invitation, and he flopped down in a vacant chair. An eye-watering miasma wafted from his boots, and Eustace nearly gagged.

"Y'ever heard of a broad what goes by the name o' 'Sagebrush Sally'?" he asked.

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"She owns a ranch just east of Marble Orchard. Word is, Sally ain't got no husband, and her line riders are spread real thin this time o' year. If we go in, guns blazing, it oughtta be easy pickin's."

"So…what? We hoof it from the train stop, pop off a couple sentries, and ride the stolen horses down to Retro Valley?"

"I reckon that covers it."

"Hmm." Eddie drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "This rustler…where'd you say you found him?"

"Up near Alazán Creek. I chanced upon him early mornin', camped out by the riverbank. Couldn't tell ya his real name, but folks 'round town call him 'Flippy'."

The boy outlaw narrowed his eyes. "Describe him to me."

"Gee, I dunno...creepy li'l cuss, about yay-high, and he's done up like a carnie barker. Fair near certain I sensed the devil on him, but I'm told he's the best in the biz. Why? You know him?"

"I knew him," replied Eddie, fishing out his lighter. "He used to work the rodeo circuit, back before he committed all the murders."

"Murders, plural?" interjected Eustace.

"Yep. Three U.S. marshals, two judges, and a clown. Though he insists the clown was self-defense."

"Good God."

"There's no sense tryin' to sugarcoat it. The man's crazy as a shithouse rat, but if he says he can get us horses, he can get us horses." Eddie turned back to Muttface. "Where does he want to meet?"

"...Here, boss. He's in the parlor now."

Eddie shook his head as he stood and gathered up his papers. "You know, I almost feel sorry for those poor suckers in Retro Valley. This is gonna be a bloodbath, and not a single one of them will see it comin'."

I don't think I ever really clarified why Tex has her clients sign a formal contract before she takes a job, given that her modus operandi is covert action. The motive is simple: it's vindictiveness. If she ever does get caught (or if her client tries to throw her under the bus to hide their own culpability), she wants to be able to bring them down with her.

HISTORICAL SHIT AND BULLSHIT SHIT
- In 1870, an Ohio man named Albert Pease invented a machine that chopped up tobacco for cigarettes. This automation reduced the price, increasing their popularity. The "Lucky Strike" tobacco brand mentioned in this chapter was introduced in 1871, and it still exists today. Originally conceived as a kind of chewing tobacco, it later evolved into cigarettes. Also, fun fact: lighters were invented before matches! The first lighter was invented in 1823, while the match was created in 1826.
- The era of westward expansion was chaotic, with populations constantly in flux: people were known to disappear, then reappear elsewhere, all the time. Contract killers like Tex could evade prosecution, so long as their victims' fates remained a mystery. While it is possible to go to trial without the purported victim's body, no-body murder convictions were historically rare. By the mid-1870s, there had only been three such guilty verdicts in the United States – and one of them was later overturned after the alleged victim was found alive.
- Line Riders were ranch employees who patrolled the farmstead's boundaries, turning back stray livestock, repairing fences, and guarding against rustlers. Horse and cattle theft was a major problem in the Old West, especially in wartime; Comanche and Apache raiders preyed on Mexico in the years leading up to the Mexican-American War, and the outbreak of the American Civil War brought about a massive increase in rustling on both sides of the border. If you ever want to go down a crazy rabbit hole, read up on The Johnson County War in Wyoming. The conflict, which lasted from 1889 to 1893, was a dramatic clash between cattle barons, homesteaders, rustlers, local lawmen, and the United States Cavalry. Shit was wild.
- Alazán Creek is a small waterway in San Antonio. Named for its reddish-brown color, it was the site of a battle in 1813, during the Mexican War of Independence.

Colloquialisms:
* Hosses - Horses
* Quail - Cower in fear
* Pinch - Steal
* Jezebel - A power-hungry temptress. In the Bible, Jezebel was a Phoenician royal who promoted the worship of false gods in Israel after seducing and marrying King Ahab.