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Chapter 3 by MissAshleyJ MissAshleyJ

What's the town like?

Strange...

The young man led them up a trail to a small town, more a mining camp that had been expanded. Everywhere the two looked, they saw men, but not a single woman. A man was running the general store. A man was standing outside the jail house… A man was dancing on the saloon stage to a male only audience.

All of them stopped and stared at the two women on horseback.

“Papa… Uncle John…” The young man called “I found someone who wants to talk to you.”

An older man walked out of the first house.

“Andrew… what are you doing?” He asked before looking at the women “Oh… I’m sorry. Welcome to Thunder Mesa, Ladies… Is there anything we can do for the Military?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Sitwell began “I’m Hillary Sitwell, my associate here and I searching for the GrayDottir gang. Bunch of thieves, made off with half the money in Salt Lake.”

“The Graydottir Gang? Can’t say I’ve heard of them.” The man said before turning to his son “Go bring Uncle John what you picked so we can get dinner ready.”

The young lady nodded to his father and went inside.

“I’m Roger Whitby, you’ve met my son Andrew and my… brother John is inside.”

“Where’s your wife?” Sitwell asked.

“She’s gone… in the accident.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Whitby…”

“Thank you… It’s not comforting seeing it every day out the window… but… This is our home. The other men in town, we all agreed to stay here. There’s water from the springs, plenty of good soil… We made our home here and we see no reason to leave.”

He looked inside at his brother

“I think we have enough, If you’d like to stay for dinner and stay the night, you are more than welcome”

“Mighty kind of you” She said. “We need to start heading back to the fort and we could use a good night’s sleep and some provisions.”

“It’s weird, ain’t it, Bigly” Sitwell said as she washed the dirt off her in the tub in the Whitby’s barn.

“What’s weird?” the private asked as she dried off from her own bath.

“All these men by themselves…” Sitwell said.

“I mean, not really…”

“Men without a provider… how do they survive?”

“Seem to be surviving pretty well if you ask me.”

“Maybe a bit two well…”

What happened?

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