Previously: So Lacy and Blake headed out to find the bastard that murdered their Pa. The trail with the strange hoof print was easy to pick up his direction.
After traveling and checking out towns; it took them about a month to find him. But they did not get the chance to kill him, he was already dead having drank from a poison pond. He and his horse both lay there dead.
Then there were decisions to make. Blake wanted to find a place to stay but Lacy wanted to be on the road. She really wanted to work in the Wild West Show.
In Wichita they went to the church and told the pastor their story. It so happened he and his wife were childless and after meeting his wife they agreed—Blake could stay with them. She was glad Blake did not have any blood on his hands.
She smiled as laid-down and drifted off to sleep.
Season 12—Adventure 2—Return to Fort Justice—Episode 4… Chris and the Coopers, after an uneventful remainder-of-the-journey, left the Adventure Train just outside of North Fort Justice and rode into town.
There was no one on the street, and the shops appeared empty. On their right they saw a couple of rows of tents—and people watching them. But—even the cantina appeared empty, “I can hear people in the saloon at the end of the street.”
“Thanks Buttons,” Chris smiled (she and the others always smiled when Buttons spoke), “Let’s pay the saloon a visit.”
“We’ve only been off the train for fifteen minutes and already my mouth is a desert,” Jay quipped, “Do you think they have cold water?”
“Water? Probably. Cold water?” Sarah replied, “Probably not.”
Meanwhile—the Slater-Morales Gang had reached Nebraska… and were just outside of the town of Norfolk, “Riders approaching—I see six,”
“I see them, Lacy—try real hard not to shoot them unless they draw-down—okay?”
“That stagecoach? That was in self-defense,” she snarled, “The guard was reaching for his shotgun, and those passengers? You didn’t see it did you? Their hands were going for their guns—Pinkerton men. You fellas really need to pay attention to the eyes and hands—less you want to have a very-short career.”
As they rode up, they kept both hands in sight, “Good day. My name is Jonathan Derby, and these are my brothers—Ralph, Ira, Joseph, Franklin, and Timothy.”
“What do you fellas want?” Lacy asked, rifle pointing loosely in their direction.
“To begin with—not to get shot,” Jonathan replied, “But I’m sure you’re not cowboys, or shopkeepers—or lawmen. We aren’t either. We are, however, looking for others such as ourselves—looking for opportunities—not necessarily legal opportunities. With whom do we apply?”
“Me,” Lacy replied, glancing back at the now former Slater-Morales gang, “I run this outfit—right boys?”
To be continued…