Wanted: Hard and Alive

The harmonicas practically played themselves as the sun beat down with an ungodly heat. The quiet town of copper ridge was a dry, dusty, back water hell hole that Franklin had found himself inexplicably drawn to. Well, the reason actually was rather explicable. Copper Ridge had a separate sheriff from Blackwater and Coyote Springs. Two towns that suddenly had decided he was better off either in jail or being dragged back east to Dusthaven. As his faithful steed Domino continued to gallop along the dusty trail into town his mind remained focused on the same plan that’d kept him outta trouble so far.

First, he had to find a new town. After that he had to come up with a new name on the spot. Dustin would have to do this time around. As a gambling man he was willing to bet they’d call him dusty. With such a nickname there’d be an easy connection back to Dusthaven, sure, but everyone would have to assume him a fool for that kinda recklessness. Admittedly that kinda double faux pas was what he lived for. That and the comforts of a gorgeous woman at night.

Second, he had to find a new job he could flounder around in until he was actually good. Some fence building experience, some roofing experience, and being a bit in handy in general made that simple enough usually. In the absolute worst case he’d go back to digging for a well like he had as a boy. Options, as always, changed depending on the state of the town he rode into. Judging from the name, copper ridge either needed snake catchers or miners. How much harder could digging for ore be compared to shoveling dirt for fence posts?

Third, he would need to find a place to stay. Staying at an inn until he could get some land and at least build the humble starts of a home would be nice. Though the last one had been far too close to a brothel for his sensibilities. Meaning he had lasted about three nights before ploughing one of their whores into the morning light. Not a problem, until she started refusing men waiting up on him. Then things had gotten dicey.

He pulled the reins back a bit, getting Domino to settle a bit. The horse knickered at him, but obliged his firm request. He pat the neck of his only friend, easing him back into town life. A horse buggy rolled through. The star of a sheriff on the side. The prickly feeling of starting to sweat started on the small of his back. Copper Ridge was no metropolis, not by any stretch of the word. Hell not even by drawing and quartering the word could you call it that. About a dozen buildings stood in town. All the familiar signs were around.

A barber, the sheriff’s office, the saloon, a general store, and a few more he couldn’t tell from a passing glance. He led Domino to a water trough and tied off his travel companion on a nearby post. He shook off the dust from his long ride, settling his poncho back to how it ought to be. He spurs clinked with every step as he saunters into the saloon. Tilting his hat up, he got a better look at the gathered folk. A few games of cards, a drunk passed out on a bar, and the same cheery kind of bar he'd seen in every town he rode through. New place, same old story. Time to weave it anew.

“Howdy stranger, guessing you blew into town just now?”

“Sure did. Looking for work and a spot to sit a spell.” He tapped the bar top. The bartender poured him a beer off of draft and slid it his way. “Thank you kindly.”

“Well if you’re looking for work the quarry’s short a man. I also know a few folk that need some handiwork done. The last sandstorm that blew through did a number of some of the houses nearby. None of ‘em further than an hour’s ride.”

“Sounds like my luck’s turning right on around then.” Dusty said with a devilish grin growing on his face.

“So, where did you say you were from again?”

“I hadn’t yet, pardon me. I’m from…” Then he started to weigh which town he wanted as people’s first impression of him.