Journal of a Wanderer

Carson City, May 2, 1525 After Founding

The new boss I was talking about is Jack Almer. He works for the Railroad, which pretty much owns Carson City. Job posting was "No questions asked"... I had some reservations about signing their contract, but $100 up front and $50 more on completion sings quite a song for a man with nothing.

Figured out why it was "no questions asked" right quick and in a hurry after signing. Mr. Almer has hired me and 5 other desperate men to collect overdue mortgage payments from ranchers along the river... or evict them if they can't pay. Not exactly what I'd like to be doing. We also have to pay back the company for whatever food we eat while on the trail. I got a bad feeling about that.

Our expedition is led by Billy Wilson, another company man. He owns the horses and tack and the chuckwagon we'll be using. Mr. Wilson looks like a hard man, not someone you want to cross. At least he has decent horses.

The other men are a pretty mixed bunch.

We got a cityboy name of Carter, all decked out in a pinstripe suit and bowler cap with Re-fined attitudes. Looks like he can handle that Henry rifle he bought at the company store with his advance.

A gunslinger who introduced himself as Lester Moore, seemed to think everyone should recognize his name. Wears his mustaches so long you can't even see his mouth. I hope he can actually use those Peacemakers he bought, I don't think it'll be long before this job turns south.

Jack White, a scruffy old mountainman. Must be really down on his luck to be down here in the first place. His beard has a blazing white stripe down from his chin. Not sure why he picked that old Colt Percussion Repeater...The company store clerk looked at him like he was crazy, and ol' Jack just smiled.

Doc Lawson, the same Doc that sewed up the wound I came into town with, is coming along "just in case".

There's also this weird little oriental guy following us... he just stares at us when we talk to him, didn't buy nothing at the store.

I wasn't able to afford what I wanted from the store, ended up with a Remington six-shooter and an old double-barrel hogleg. That, plus ammo, some rope for a lasso and this journal used up near all my cash.

We're heading out west toward the first ranch early tomorrow.

Christianson Farm, May 6th. 1525 After Founding.

4 days out, we finally reached the first ranch we're supposed to collect from. The owner, name of Will Christianson, owed $450 dollars. Really small farmhouse with 4 really small head of cattle and a couple horses. Mr. Wilson drew up the chuckwagon a ways back and motioned for us to go on ahead and "Deal with it".

Lester and I rode up and hitched our horses near the porch, Carter and Jack stayed back with their rifles, while the Doc just stood around holding a shotgun near them... not sure what he was thinking to hit at that range, but ok. I knocked on the door and decided to do the talking and let Lester look intimidating. Mrs. Christianson answered, looking very pregnant and more than a little scared. Can't really blame her... I asked after her husband and she told us he was out in the west fields and would be back around sunset.

With a little discussion, we decided to ride out to meet him. The Doc spotted him first, leading a couple more cows back in from the fields. We set up in his path, with Carter off a bit to the side with his Henry. He pulled up pretty sharp when he noticed us, then came ahead cautiously.

I explained why we were there and suggested we head back to his ranch to discuss the matter of payment. When we arrived, Mr. Wilson was sitting on the porch with the wife who was looking even more scared than earlier. I went inside with Will, who decided it would be prudent to carry his rifle in with him. I didn't much like that, but decided not to press the issue.

Turns out he only had about half the money. Not good. I suggested we go out and discuss alternate payment with Mr Wilson, perhaps we could take his cattle? He didn't react well to the additional request that he leave the rifle on the mantle. When I explained that we wanted to resolve this without bloodshed and didn't want to threaten him, he pretty obviously didn't believe me, and started to get more agitated. I could see his kids peeking down from the loft... I called outside to Mr. Wilson, asking what we could work out, partial payments, etc, at which point Carter and Jack came in to join the conversation. Jack suggested renegotiation the lease on the land to a smaller acreage. Mr. Wilson pretty much shot that down, payment is all or nothing.

I was still standing there in front of Mr Christianson, his kids looking down on us and him with that spencer in his clenched in his hands. I handed him back his $200 and said "Take your kids, your wife and your cows, whatever you can carry, and leave." with my heart breaking inside me. He started to raise his rifle, and I could hear Carter cocking that old Henry. "I don't want to have to kill you in front of your kids. You said you got good neighbors that'll help you out... please, just take your stuff and go."

Thank the Lord above, he broke before we had to kill him. We watched him pack up and head off down the dark road as night was falling.

I already hate this job, and I suspect it's only going to get worse.

Boot ranch, May 11th, 1525 After Founding

The trail between the Christianson farm and the Boot ranch was pretty uneventful. Jack and Carter bagged a couple rabbits and a snake... Not really much game on the prairie this time of year to supplement the food that we all suspect we're going to pay out the ass for.

The Boot ranch looked much more prosperous than Christianson's little place. Joe Boot appears to have made enough money to be able afford extra hands on his ranch, judging from the bunkhouse. There's also a barn and a grain silo, in addition to the large corral for his cattle. As we rode up, leaving Billy Wilson behind in his chuckwagon again, I motioned for Carter to take up position near the only tree we've seen for over a week, and for Jack to take the Doc and set up near the silo.

Three men came running out of the bunkhouse as Lester and I rode up to the main house, two running around behind the bunk and one hightailing it over behind the house. I couldn't tell immediately if they was armed, on account of how fast they was running. Mr. Boot opened the door as I stepped up onto the porch, and I stood there staring down the wide open barrels of his shotgun.

When I explained that we were here to peacefully collect the $2000 dollars he owed for his land, he politely told me to fuck off. I tried witty re-par-tay, and plain out threatening him with a bullet in the brainpan from Carter's Henry, but he was not to be swayed no matter what I said. I had just started to step back off the porch when all hell broke loose.

I heard Jack's old percussion repeater crack off followed by a scream from behind the bunkhouse... the kinda scream that a feller don't get back up from, if you know what I mean. All I remember after that is thinking "Oh Shit!" as Boot pulled the trigger on his shotgun. Underneath the boom of Boot's weapon, I heard the distinctive CRACK of Carter's Henry Rifle.

I felt and heard buckshot ripping by me, plucking at the trailing edge of my coat as I desperately swung aside trying to dodge, and somehow managing to come out unharmed. Praise the Lord! I wipped back around, yanking my pistol from the holster as Boot's body thumped to the floor inside the doorway, a gaping hole right between his eyes. I did warn him that Carter had him dead to rights....

Lester darted off to the left of the porch, toward the barn and started firing at another ranch hand that was drawing a bead on the Doc. He fanned his peacemaker like a real pro, stitching the rancher from the stomach up through his shoulder with 3 shots, taking him down. I darted to the left of the door, scanning inside the house and caught sight of another man aiming a pistol at me, and we started exchanging bullets while Carter fired away with his Henry. I remember at one point hearing him call out "Oh dear, I seem to have been shot!". Things got a bit confusing after that, while I was trading fire with the man inside the house, Lester looped around the back and took out the rancher that had darted back there, while Carter somehow managed to totally disarm the third man behind the bunkhouse in retaliation for hitting him.

When the smoke cleared, the only prior resident of the ranch that survived was the rancher that Lester took out behind the house, but I'm not sure how long he'll live. Jack started stripping the house of every bit of food he could find while I checked out the horses in the barn. 3 swaybacked nags that should have been retired years ago, and one moderately decent if nearly past her prime horse. Carter called the Doc over to help patch him up. I'm not sure where all he got hit, but there's an oddly suspicious hole through the crotch of his fine pants now and the Doc has taken to calling him "Lefty Carter"... Seems reasonable, since he is a southpaw.

We came back around front of the house to find Billy Wilson coming out with a lockbox, counting out cash to the sum of $6000. Why in hell didn't Boot just pay up? I just don't understand... Billy started handing out $20 to each of us, at which point I got a bit riled up. I said to him, "Seems to me, the railroad is owed about 2000 of those dollars there, leaving the rest for us to split." The others were quick to agree and chime in. Billy suggested we take that up with Mr Almer back in Carson City and handed Lester his $20, at which point I noticed his hand had been on his pistol and ready to draw. I never even saw him move....

I begin to wonder if I've sold my soul to the railroad company... It seems the price of the lives of six men today were cashed in for $20. I'd tell Mr Wilson to watch his back, but I suspect he already is.

I'm not sure how much more of this job I can take before I become just like the men that killed my family and set me on this road in the first place.