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The Civil War Within (Or "Stan Wrote A Western")


STUDZ
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[i did this for an English short story project a few months ago. My first western, and I hope to make a couple more with these characters. If you can brave the wall of text below, PLEASE let me know what you think of it!]

 

 

 

THE CIVIL WAR WITHIN

 

 

 

 

Thursday evening. The kind of time where nothing really happens, no matter how hard one tries. Nothing too special about Thursdays, especially in a small Virginian township about twelve years after the Civil War. The now-called “United†States of America were well on their way to eliminating slavery, regardless of Lincoln's murder. Like it or not, Americans were Americans, Confederate or Union. Whatever side you were on in the War, there was no point in fighting over it now.

 

But back to Thursday evening. Sure, nothing really happened on a Thursday, but in this town, there was something of significance. For the last four months, a mysterious drifter has rolled into town every other Thursday, stopped in Roscoe's tavern, orders the same thing—shot of whiskey, with the bottle left by him—and just sits there. It's not like he's ever caused any trouble, and no one ever looked for trouble from him. People just knew nothing about him, who he was, where he came from, or what he does for a living. After about half an hour or so, he would pay for the drink (even though he never touches the bottle), get up, and ride off to the east. People have reported the same man in the other three towns within county limits, but other details are hazy, at best.

 

On one such Thursday, however, something a little more interesting happened.

 

Seamus Walsh's telegraph office received an odd wire at around the same time that mysterious man was in the saloon again. As the message came through, the drifter had just walked in. The telegram had specified to give a seemingly random string of words to the man who had graced the town with his presence every other week.

 

Malcolm, Seamus' son, was in the office at the time. Malcolm had been interested in what the man was here for and why. Thankfully, opportunity knocked for him.

 

“Malcolm!†his father called for him, his clear Irish accent filling the building. Malcolm came in.

 

“Yes, father?†Malcolm replied. He was no younger than sixteen, first in his family to be born in the New World.

 

“Looks like your prayers have been answered, lad. I've got a telegram for that bloke who just walked into the bar. But I can't make hide nor tail of it But you know what? It's too late to be worrying about that. Just get this to the man and come back, will you?â€

 

Malcolm took the telegram and headed off to the tavern. After reading so much on secret messages and what people tried to do to communicate with one another during the Civil War, he was able to decipher what the message said. Someone wanted that man in the city by Friday. No reason for why, and no name.

 

The boy walked into the tavern and saw the man, sitting in the same place, with the same order as always. Malcolm walked up to the drifter. “Uh, excuse me, sir?â€

 

The man glanced at him with one of those looks that says the guy can't trust anyone. Piercing green eyes looked back at the Irish-American.

 

Malcolm swallowed hard. The good Lord only knew where this man came from, or what he had seen. He looked old enough to have seen the War—or worse yet, be in it. “Uh,†he stammered, “Telegram for you, sir. Don't know who it's from. There was no return address.â€

 

Wordlessly, the drifter took the note. He placed it down on the counter next to him and got down to cracking the code.

 

Malcolm looked on. “Uh, you wouldn't happen to know what it says, do you?â€

 

For the first time, the mysterious man spoke. “It says something that's meant for my eyes and my eyes only. I'd suggest you keep your nose out of it, son. It'll be the difference between life and death for you.†He didn't say it harshly, just enough to know the man didn't want any more trouble than whatever came from the note. He put what he owed to the bar on the counter, put a hand on Malcolm's shoulder, and headed off into the night.

 

Malcolm ran after the man, but he was already on his horse and off to the west. According to what he got out of the message, that man was supposed to leave for the city as soon as possible. The stubbornness of the Irish kicked in and the boy was off like a bullet to go after him. Malcolm grabbed what belongings he could grab from home, a horse, a coat, and chased after the man. After reading so much about adventures and the like in books, he thought it was high time to get into one himself.

 

* * *

 

Several hours went by. Malcolm was able to catch up to the drifter easily enough just out of town. The only problem was keeping up without him noticing.

 

That, and the fact that Malcolm had forgotten to pack food. And he skipped supper.

 

The man had stopped up ahead and was getting off his horse for the night. Malcolm stopped as well at a safe distance. The man was warming some beans and jerky that he already had prepared from an earlier date. Malcolm was pretty hungry by now, and was praying that the drifter would leave some food and just fall asleep.

 

Eventually and surprisingly, he does, and Malcolm sneaked up tried to nab some jerky from the sleeping man. Cautiously, he tiptoed to the drifter and tried to take the dried strips of meat that was left on his plate.

 

Of course, Malcolm overlooked the fact that there was an empty metal canteen he could trip over.

 

The boy tripped with a loud CLAAANG!, enough to wake both the man and his horse. In a flash, he was on top of Malcolm, the man's arm to his neck.

 

“I thought I told you to keep your nose out of my business, boy!†he said through clenched teeth. “Do you have a death wish or something!?†He let go of Malcolm, allowing him to move and, more importantly, breathe.

 

Malcolm composed himself and hastily tried to make an excuse. “Uh, well... Y—you forgot to pay for the drink and--â€

 

“That's a lie and you know it. Don't even try to take more money from me.†The man pulled out his revolver. “Now, you have ten seconds to explain yourself or I'll put this gun to good use. Something I can't say has happened since the war.â€

 

The man cocked the hammer on his pistol. “Are you one of Miller's men?†He demanded.

 

“Miller???†Malcolm only knew of one Miller: The man who owned the town general store, Jacob Miller. “I'm an operator's son, not the shop-owner’s!â€

 

“Then why are you even here? Don't tell me you're one of those kids who've read too many books and your head's full of ideas of adventures—“ The man stopped dead in his tracks upon realizing what he was saying. He lowered the gun. “That's your idea, isn't it?â€

 

Malcolm didn't say a word. In fact, he was too busy holding his breath to say much of anything.

 

The man cursed under his breath. “Well, I'm not killing a boy over something like that, no matter how foolish you are for it. What's your name, son?†It took a moment for Malcolm to register that the man was still talking to him. The man put away his gun. “Don't worry, I'm not gonna shoot you. I haven't actually shot a man since the end of the war.â€

 

The boy finally opened his mouth. “Mal—Malcolm Walsh, sir.†There was an awkward silence, while both parties were looking for something to say next. “I know what your message says. You're headed for Virginia City to meet some guy about a shipment and--â€

 

The man stopped him. “You've said enough. So long as you never say a word of it to another soul again. I'm not playing babysitter to a young Don Quixote.†Malcolm looked at him dubiously. “Yeah, I've read my fair share of stories too. But anyway--â€

 

Just then, the two of them heard a man approaching on horseback. Dawn was breaking, but it was still dark, so only silhouettes could really be seen. The stranger stopped but didn't get off his horse. “Adam Bradley?†The stranger called.

 

The drifter spoke up. “Yeah, that's me. Who's asking?â€

 

“Just making sure you got the message alright. There won't be any funny business with this one.†The horseman noticed Malcolm. “Who's the boy?â€

 

Adam Bradley was silent for a split moment. Then he spoke. “He cracked the code. He's my insurance, to make sure no one knows what Miller has planned. Why is he sending his goons to check up on me? Doesn't he realize I'm in this until I see Jeb?â€

 

“Miller also knows not to trust a tough ex-military man like you,†the stranger retorted. “Just get to Virginia City and meet up with our inside man. We'll be waiting at the county limit.†And with that, the horseman was off.

 

By now, dawn was breaking. “For a man as shrewd as Miller, he tends to keep some pretty stupid goons,†Adam admitted. “Well, son, it looks like you got your wish. One of Miller's men have seen you, so you're gonna have to work with me now. I can't guarantee your safety now, once you're home, and something's telling me you wouldn't leave me alone anyways.†He grabbed some things from his saddlebag. “Have you ever fired a gun?â€

 

Malcolm shook his head. “I'm afraid not, Mr. Bradley—Can I call you that?†Adam shrugged to show his indifference. “Okay, then. No, I've never handled a gu—“ Malcolm had a revolver tossed to him. “I won't have to actually fire this thing, will I???â€

 

“If we're lucky, I would hope not.†Adam replied. “Regardless, this would be a better six-shot for a beginner if it comes to a gunfight. Remingtons like this one are smoother to reload and fire with. I prefer my old Colt. Served me well in the war and since, so there's no reason I should change that.â€

 

Malcolm shrugged now. “I suppose. So who's this guy we're meeting in the city?â€

 

“First, I need to get you up to speed on what we'll be doing.†Adam began. “That Miller guy we were talking about, Seth Miller. He's an ex-stockholder whose business went under after the war.â€

 

“What did he do?†Malcolm asked.

 

“Slave trading. I'm sure you understand why he's out of a job. Now, Miller had a family to feed, and a lot of time on his hands, so he resorted to becoming a crime boss in the county. The payoff was good, so he kept at it until he was in control of pretty much the whole area. Of course, he still has to steal a few things here and there. Which is what we're doing.â€

 

By now, dawn had broken. The two of them were on their horses, heading northwards to the city.

 

Adam continued. “A Wells Fargo train is headed out to Virginia City in two days' time. Miller had his eyes on its contents for a while, though nobody knows why. The man has plenty of gold, so what's so important about a heist? Regardless, I'm stuck doing his dirty work.â€

 

“And why are you doing this?†Malcolm asked. Adam didn't look like one to rob a train. He would have killed Malcolm when he had the chance. But the boy was still on the fence on whether to trust him or not.

 

Adam was quiet for a long while. Finally, he explained. “Just before the war was over, my brother and I were under attack by some Union soldiers. Our entire squad was taken prisoner, and only a handful of us escaped. After the war was over, all of the POWs were released. Our squad was reunited, and we found out who died. Nobody knew what happened to Jebediah.

 

“Fast forward to two years ago, and I received news that Jeb was still alive, but being held captive by Miller. I didn't find out about that last bit until about four months ago. That's when I got a wire from Miller, saying that if I wanted to see my brother alive, I would do what he says. He needed a fresh mind for a heist he had planned, and he made me wait in several towns for more information. In the meantime, I did odd jobs here and there while I waited, mainly as a cowhand in the longer stretches of time.â€

 

Silence again. Finally, Malcolm asked Adam one last question. “So why are you telling me all of this, Mr. Bradley? You seem like a man who doesn't want to trust anyone.â€

 

Adam sighed. “You're not wrong, kid. I've suffered too much from the war, and I don't want to trust people. But I thought someone who never had to see the war would be a little different. A fresh mind, if you will.†He chuckled, and Malcolm smiled. It seemed that some of the tension that was present that morning had lowered.

 

The two of them were At Virginia City's limits by now. And just in the nick of time. Dusk was setting on the frontier, and neither Adam nor Malcolm fancied to spend another night out in the open. “Time to get to work,†Adam huffed.

 

They walked into an inn near the center of town. For a place in a larger city, the inn seemed pretty bare. Adam walked up to the innkeeper and asked where he might find one “Quinton Smithâ€. The keep gave them his room number and they headed up to Smith's door.

 

Adam took out his gun and whispered to Malcolm, “I'm not gonna shoot him. He may be working for Miller, but they can still be scared of me.â€

 

Adam knocked on the door and walked in. He aimed his gun only to find the other man already aiming one at him.

 

“No use in any civility, now is there?†The informant asked. He was a little older than Adam, but a little rounder and grey-haired. “I'm a little smarter than most of those goons of Miller's. That and I know a lot about you, Bradley.â€

 

Adam looked more than a bit surprised. “Do you now?†He asked. “And how would any half-wit goon of Miller's know anything about me, other than the obvious?â€

 

“You're a good man, Bradley. I've seen your file. Ex-Confederate soldier. One of the few to escape imprisonment of your squad.. You're not a killer, and you're not a crook. That, and I've seen you in action. It was me and my men who took yours down. Now, I never wanted there to be a war, just justice. And whether we were on opposing sides or not, we're all Americans.â€

 

“So why are you working with Miller?†Adam asked.

 

“I'm not,†The informant admitted, as he lowered his gun. “Heck, I'm not even Quinton Smith. The name's Zephaniah Smith. I'm with Pinkerton's detective agency.†He showed them his credentials. “They wanted me to take down Miller's operation from the inside, and this heist is a golden opportunity. I've been working with Seth Miller for the last two years. Met your brother, too.â€

 

Adam lowered his gun now, too. “You know where Jeb is?â€

 

Smith gave him a somber look. “I'm afraid I do, but you won't like what happened to him.â€

 

“So long as he's still alive and breathing,†Adam huffed. “Why?â€

 

Smith hesitated. “Well, your brother seems to be more than playing up the part of Miller's right-hand man. I've seen the restraint you use on that piece of yours, no matter how often you pull it out. But Jebediah... He's got a lot of unnecessary blood on his hands. I'm sorry to say this Bradley, but your brother, he's the killer here.â€

 

Adam slightly winced at that last statement. “Well, I'll be the judge of that,†he said finally. “So what's happening tomorrow?â€

 

Smith pulled out a county map. He pointed at the easternmost outskirts. “We'll meet Miller and the others here,†he began, pointing just above an area marked THE PONDEROSA, “and we'll split up down the railway at each of the stations before we hit Virginia City. If luck's on our side, we'll be put together. But seeing as Miller's heading this heist, I doubt it.â€

 

“And the rendezvous is close to the city,†Adam added. “So we can leave before dawn hits tomorrow, and still be there on time.â€

 

“Yep,†Smith stretched. “And from there we'll wait for everyone to get aboard and take the cargo, I guess. Only problem is, what's in it?â€

 

Malcolm finally spoke up. “Wait, so it's not gold or money we're stealing?â€

 

Smith turned to the boy. “Miller's got plenty of money from previous heists. To plan something like this over money is dangerous. I guess we'll find out what this is all about tomorrow. But for now, it's late. You both should book a room for the night, and we'll meet at the rendezvous tomorrow. I've got a few things I need to deal with before I hit the hay myself. I'll see you boys later.†And with that, Adam and Malcolm left the inn and booked a room elsewhere, to avoid any suspicion.

 

* * *

 

Malcolm woke up to Adam shaking him awake. “C'mon, son. We need to get going.†It was still dark, but Malcolm could see through a lamp that Adam was already dressed and ready to go. He quickly got ready and they both rode out of town just as dawn began to break.

 

The ride to the meeting point was a quiet one. Neither Adam nor Malcolm had much to say about what was going to happen, and both of them dreaded what could happen.

 

Saturday morning. This train will be the last shipment in these parts until Monday. Nobody would be working on the Lord's Day. Malcolm had been gone from home for over a day now, with no word to his father. Maybe he should have dropped him a wire back in the city, to tell him he's okay, but Malcolm was with Adam the whole time.

 

He also wondered what was going on back home in general. Word gets around pretty fast in his little town, and surely someone saw Malcolm ride off after the drifter that Thursday night. So maybe his father did know. Either way, he would have Malcolm's hide when he got back.

 

If he got back.
 

Eventually Adam and Malcolm made it to the rendezvous by the Ponderosa Ranch. They were the last of the gang to arrive, as Smith was already there. He gave the two of them a tense nod. Among the garden variety thugs, Miller was also present, as well as a man who wore a black bandana and matching hat with a poncho. Malcolm thought this was odd, since Virginia state was nowhere near Mexico, and it was too early in the year to worry about getting a chill.

 

Miller spoke, “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm sure by now you all know what we're here for. In order to pull this off, I'll need your total cooperation. As for our latecomers, Quinton has told me That Adam's young friend here won't be a problem.†Miller was referring to Malcolm at this point, causing him to swallow hard.

 

One of the other men was uneasy of hearing Adam's name. “You mean Adam Cartwright!?†He blurted out in fear. And for good reason too, as the Ponderosa belonged to the Cartwright family, who were known throughout the county and most of the state. Every criminal knew not to cross a Cartwright, and Bradley happened to share the same first name as the eldest Cartwright boy. “I'm not working with any Cartwright!â€

 

Miller's bushy grey eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “No, you nitwit,†he snapped. “I'd no sooner shoot a Cartwright than have one help us! Adam Bradley is the man's name.†The other man was about to open his mouth when Miller moved on. “Now, we'll split up and board the train at each of the stations. Bradley, you're with me and my right-hand man here.†He pointed at the bandana man.

 

Miller continued to list off names, three at a time, ending with “Smith, Wilson, and the boy†taking the station closest to Virginia City. Wordlessly, each of the groups rode off.

 

Malcolm stayed close to Smith, as Wilson rode ahead of them, clearly being impatient. Smith rode a little closer to Malcolm, so that their conversation couldn't be heard by the desperado ahead of them.

 

“Remember to stay close to me if anything goes sour, son,†he whispered. “I may be a little older, but I can still hold my own.â€

 

Wilson called back to them. “Hurry up, slowpokes! We've still got a ways to go before we get there.†Smith and Malcolm picked up their pace and said no more to each other.

 

* * *

 

The three of them arrived at the station just in time. They roped up their horses, bought their tickets, and climbed aboard. The train seemed a little odd, compared to most Malcolm had seen. There was a car with “WELLS FARGO†in big letters in the middle, but where there was usually a gap between cars, the cargo section was completely closed off.

 

The second anomaly came when they boarded the train. Everyone he had seen back at the rendezvous were present, but Adam was nowhere to be found. Malcolm raised his concern to Smith, who asked around. The stories varied from him chickening out to him almost ratting them all out and having to be shot before any of them ever got to the station. But the two who were with Adam before said nothing.

 

The train left the station, and everyone got to work. Miller and a handful of goons (Wilson being one of the more notable ones) headed up to the engine to stop the train, while Smith, Malcolm, and the bandana man headed to the cargo. The bandana man wordlessly made a beeline to the cargo, knocking out everyone who stood in his way. Smith just walked right by the injured, while Malcolm had a look of concern on his face.

 

Eventually they made it to the cargo hold. The bandana man walked up to the man guarding the entrance, kicked him in the stomach, and took his keys.

 

Smith grimaced at this and sighed. “Well, let's see what we're transporting--†The bandana man blew a punch right square to Smith's head, and he was out like a light.

 

Malcolm couldn't take this thug's impulsiveness anymore. “What did you bloody well do that for!?†he cried.

 

Finally the bandana man spoke. “Never did like that Smith,†he muttered. “Seems to know too many things. And you--†He pulled out his gun and stuck it in Malcolm's chest. “--Why are you even here? Not like Adam to have a shadow following him.â€

 

“And how the blazes would you know?â€

 

The bandana man chuckled. “Because I've known him all my life. Went to war with the man. And when we were all captured, by that Union sack of skin I just punched out, Adam abandoned us. He betrayed his squad, and he betrayed his own flesh and blood.â€

 

Malcolm's eyes widened. “You're Jebediah!†he blurted.

 

“So he's told you about me,†Jeb pondered, taking his bandana off. “He knew it was me the moment he laid eyes on me back at the Ponderosa. Before we headed to the station, he confronted me and I took him out. No use in keeping someone who would be a problem, that and he got what he wanted. He wanted to see me.

 

“Now,†Jeb was unlocking the door, his gun still aimed at Malcolm. “Let's take a look at what we've got here.â€

 

They walked into the hold, and were met with a large number of crates. Jeb grabbed a crowbar laying by one of them and pried it open. Inside was neither gold nor cash. Inside were firearms, the kind neither Jeb nor Malcolm had ever seen, even with Malcolm's vast knowledge of fiction.

 

These guns were regular shotguns with some sort of catapult on the top, with a capacity about the size of a large skipping stone. Jeb opened the other crates, which had odd-looking pistols, a rifle with a small periscope on top, and lots of ammunition.

 

Jeb laughed aloud. “Miller said we were getting stuff to take over the state. Never even thought this was what he meant! This shipment had come a long way, from California to New York to here...†He looked at Malcolm, put his gun away, and picked up one of the pistols. “Let's see what these bad boys can do.â€

 

Just then, the train came to a complete halt, making Jeb lose his balance. Malcolm took this opportunity to run to the back of the train. Surely someone would be able to help him. He ran to the other locked door, released the bolt, and headed for the caboose, with Jeb following closely behind. Malcolm didn't get far before he ran right into someone. He fell back a bit, only to realize Adam was looking right back at him.

 

“A—Adam!†He stammered. It was like he'd seen a ghost.

 

“Get back, Malcolm.†Adam said plainly. The boy obeyed and ran behind him. Adam pulled out his gun and cocked it. “So this is how you've survived all these years, huh Jeb? You used to be a man who cared about others. You used to be so selfless, and now what happened?â€

 

Jeb spat on the floor. By now, everyone had vacated the car. “I fended for myself. Did what I had to do to survive. See here, everyone's in this life for themselves. You taught me that.â€

 

“I spent the last two years looking for you. I thought you were dead! Our mother died, convinced that you were killed in that prison camp. She wasn't the same, Jeb. Now you're playing up people, crushing everything that gets in your way, just because you think no one is out there for others. Maybe my brother did die in the war, because I don't see him standing here right now.â€

 

Jeb pulled out the gun he'd picked up in the cargo crate. “Who cares about what happened after the war?†He bellowed. “We lost! I had nothing! Everything I had done these last twelve years was by my own sweat, by my own brow. I owe no one nothing, least of all you.â€

 

Malcolm could see Adam's otherwise gruff demeanour falter a bit. “I made my peace on the war years ago. And while we may have lost, the war isn't quite over for some.†Adam dropped his gun. “You want to end this, right here, right now, take your shot. I failed you, and I failed my country. I spent two long years looking, praying I would find you alive and well, maybe with a pretty woman and a kid or two.†Adam's voice was wavering. “I buried our mother nine years ago and hoped you were alive. I should have been the one in that camp, Jeb. I should have stayed with my men. So do me the favor. Take your shot, and I'll let the Almighty figure out what to do with me next. I'm not holding it against you.â€

 

Jeb took aim with the prototype firearm, but couldn't pull the trigger. “Such a fool, I am,†he said, lowering it once more. “I've killed a lot of folks in my day, anyone who was between me and my goal. Got in way over my head with this one. But I can't kill you, Adam. You're the only man with the guts to have guts like that. Probably still are some good things in this world...†Jeb pulled out his revolver and pointed it at his chest. “But I'm not one of them.â€

 

Adam rushed to his brother. “Jeb, no--!â€

 

Just then, an arm pistol-whipped Jeb in the back of the head. He collapsed, and Adam grabbed him. Smith emerged and coughed. Malcolm could easily see the bump on his head, now beginning to redden. “Couldn't let the man take his own life. He'll be fine.â€

 

Adam looked blankly at his brother for a long while. “He may be alive, but I doubt he'll ever be fine,†he finally said. “So, what did I miss?â€

 

“Well,†Smith began, “the cargo in there seems to be some sort of prototype weapons, with grenade flingers and repeating pistols and long-ranged rifles. Looks like something a crazy Californian blacksmith who read a bit too much Jules Verne would make.â€

 

Adam chuckled. “Looks like you're not the only one to have read too much, kid.†He patted Malcolm on the shoulder. “I think it would be best to tie Jeb up for now, just to keep him and everyone else safe.â€

 

The three of them headed back to the cargo hold, in hopes that they can lock the car from the inside and block off Miller and his men. Of course, that kind of luck only happens in stories.

 

Miller had a pistol in his hand, with his goons holding shotguns. There was a long silence. Miller knew better than to monologue, and none of his henchmen had the wit to make a good speech. The silence was broken by the sound of a trumpet and a large amount of hoof-steps.

 

Smith smiled wide. “Looks like the Cavalry's here,†he said.

 

Miller looked shocked. “You son of a gun,†He growled. He fired his gun, only to have it make an internal rattling noise before coughing out on him.

 

Adam, Malcolm and Smith took this chance to run back to the caboose. Smith headed the three of them, and Malcolm could see men with blue coats and horses from out the windows. The three of them shot out the back of the train with Smith hollering out “It's me! It's Zep! Don't shoot!â€

 

Miller's men were out not too long after. Smith and company were able to get behind the front line of the cavalry before Miller began to open fire on them all. A couple of his henchmen were up on the roof of the rear car, with the long-ranged rifles from the cargo.

 

Even with Miller's superior firepower, he had less manpower and a lot less space to work with compared to the soldiers. Miller grabbed one of his goons' shotguns and loaded what Malcolm could only assume was a grenade. The round made some good distance as everyone cleared the way for it.

 

But there was no need. The grenade sailed clear over their heads. All the gunfire had stopped to see the projectile. Malcolm was the only one to turn around completely to see where it landed. The mark was right out, easily by fifty yards or so. The grenade detonated with a loud THWOOOMP.

 

Miller was busy loading another grenade while his men covered him. The cavalry took aim one last time and took out the henchmen. Miller was the last one standing. He had another grenade loaded and was about to fire when he went rigid and fell forward. Jebediah numbly walked out from behind Miller, a plain old Colt in his hand. He dropped the gun and raised his hands, slowly walking out of the train.

 

Smith raised his eyebrows. “How did he get out of those bonds?†he wondered.

 

“I gave him some slack,†Adam told him. “And he did the right thing.â€

 

“But this small favor won't save him, surely he'll still hang for all of this!â€

 

“I don't doubt that,†Adam admitted, “but at least he's come to his senses, I guess.â€

 

Three cavalry troops were escorting Jeb, while others were moving into the train to find any more of Miller's gang. The train wasn't too far from Virginia City from where they were.

 

“You know,†Smith said. “There was a bit of a bounty on Miller's head. I'd think you two are entitled to a cut of the reward.â€

 

That's when Malcolm realized his father had no idea where he was! “I think that reward will have to wait, Mr. Smith. I need to get home.â€

 

Adam had been silent since the cavalry took his brother, but he finally spoke up. “Well in that case, we'd better drop a wire to him. You said he was a telegraph operator, right?â€

 

* * *

 

All the loose ends were dealt with. A telegram was sent to Malcolm's father saying he was alive and well, and would be home by Monday. Malcolm tried to figure out an excuse for running off Thursday night, but decided against it. He would just come clean and bring his cut of Miller's bounty with him.

 

Adam made his peace with Jeb. His trial won't start until Tuesday, and even then, everyone was certain he would be sentenced to hang. This didn't sit well with Adam, but justice had to be served. That, and Jeb seemed to be surprisingly calm about his fate. Seeing Adam again seemed to do something to Jeb. Malcolm found out how close they really were, and it almost made him wish he had a brother of his own.

 

Monday rolled around, and Malcolm and Adam were on their way back to the small town. Malcolm carried a moderately large bag of cash with him, so they made sure to stick with the main road. But, seeing as Miller's gang had been dissolved thanks to them, and there was hardly any other crime rings to speak of, so neither of them feared being mugged.

 

They made it back alright, and the two of them headed to the telegraph office. Malcolm expected a hiding from his father for running off like that, but he was sure the large sum of money he had earned would ease most of the tension.

 

Malcolm was the first to walk in. Seamus was there waiting for him.

 

“You crazy child,†Seamus began railing on him. “I give you one job, take the telegram to that drifter, and you run off with him! Next thing I know, I get a wire saying you've nabbed some mob boss with him. I shouldn't have let you read all of those bloody books, adventure got into your head...†The rant continued for quite some time before Seamus figured that he had better things to do than just tell off his son. “So, who's the man who brought you home?â€

 

“Same man he chased outside town,†Adam said. “Adam Bradley. Your son helped bust a train heist which could have fuelled another war.â€

 

“Well, you have some nerve, Bradley. Taking my son without any warning and putting him out there like that. I mean, just the very...†Seamus would have kept going if Adam hadn't put the large bag of money down on the counter. “Wait, is that the reward?â€

 

Adam nodded. “Yes sir, three hundred fifty dollars. Yours to do as you wish.â€

 

Seamus changed his tune. “Well, I guess this whole escapade wasn't for nothing. I'm still not pleased with you, Malcolm, but at least something came out of it.†He turned to Adam. “And while we're at it, I may as well thank you for getting my boy home in one piece. Hope he wasn't too much of a hassle for you.â€

 

Adam laughed. “That's what I was hoping when this all started. But anyway...†He turned to Malcolm, “You stay out of trouble now, Malcolm.â€

 

He put out his hand, and Malcolm shook it. “Yessir,†was all he could say.

 

And with that, Adam walked out, got on his horse, and rode off, much like he did that Thursday night.

 

Father and son watched him leave. Finally, Seamus interrupted the silence. “Well lad,†he said, “I've left all your chores for you. Plus, for running off like that, you'll be dusting every inch of the working floor. And I expect the lot of it to be done before the day is out.â€

 

Malcolm sighed. He understood his father was a busy man, and work needed to be done. “Yes sir,†he said once more.

 

* * *

 

Thursday evening. The kind of time where nothing really happens, no matter how hard one tries. Three days had passed since Malcolm returned from the train heist. Daily life returned for the boy. Fetch this, clean that, deliver this to so-and-so. The day was pretty much done, and Malcolm was getting the last of things finished when a man rode into town and headed into the small inn the town had.

 

Malcolm didn't get the best look at him, but there was no doubt it was Adam. Malcolm headed for the inn to greet him.

 

Turns out that Adam's brother did indeed hang, and his drifting days were over. It was about time Adam settle down somewhere and do something with his life. What family he had left was gone, and he thought doing some hard, honest work would help.

 

“The way I see it,†Adam said, “I've got a fistful of dollars and nothing to do now. In my travels and my time in the army, I've picked up a few things on smithing. Looks like you folks don't exactly have a blacksmith in this town, so I decided to set up a shop here.â€

 

Malcolm looked at him dubiously. They didn't have a blacksmith, but somehow he couldn't see Adam as one. Then again, he still didn't really know what this ex-military man was capable of.

 

“I'm sure you'll do a fine job, Mr. Bradley,†Malcolm assured him. “So I suppose I'll be seeing you around?â€

 

“If all goes well, for sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to my room I'll have a bit of work to do with the mayor in the morning. Goodnight, Malcolm.†And with that, Adam was off to bed.

 

Thursday evenings from then on were the same old boredom they were before Adam's drifting days. Malcolm didn't go looking for adventure like he did with Adam, and he even wrote a book or two, inspired by Adam and his endeavours in the army.

 

Smith retired from Pinkerton shortly after the Miller case was closed. Malcolm heard from him every now and then, but it was mostly small talk.

 

And Adam? His smith-shop was a success, and he eventually found a woman who was brave enough to love him, and settled down. When they got married, Malcolm was Adam's best man.

 

As hokey as it may sound, there really is no good way to say this other than: Yeah, they all lived happily ever after.

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Perfect  :thumbsup: . Like stories such as that, with interesting "atmosphere" and hence - with a decire to read. Also, like endings like that, when people quietly diverge and reader stay thinking about a continue of story.

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