Old American West

As usual, it was a dry and hot day. Delilah considered the existence of God, eventually concluding that if he did indeed exist (and let's face it, that was certainly the most likely scenario), then he had absolutely no imagination. Day after day, it was always the same. Occassionally a storm hit, or just a deluge of rain, but it always seemed as more of an afterthought than anything else. Yes, God was definitely one dull character. For this town though, it probably didn't matter. The young shopkeeper doubted the existence of any deity would even make a difference to anyone in the town, least of all her.

These ridiculous musings were as a result of the dreary day. It was nearing noon, and yet it felt as if three days had passed, at the very least. Business was usually slow, most of the townsfolk popped in once a week for their various needs, deliveries were made in the middle of the week. The only real reason the shop stayed open was for the occassional traveller passing through. If any of the citizens needed something, they had only to ask Delilah's father, the man who usually sat in front of the shop, growing older and fatter every day. He was a good man, but since his daughter had reached adulthood, his zest for life seemed to have dissipated. With no one to rely on him, he had begun to drift into a slight depression, and his love for the drink had certainly begun to increase. Delilah didn't complain, he had every right to wallow. He had lost many comrades in battle, come home permanently disabled, only to lose his wife less than two years later. He was owed this respite, even if it wasn't all that healthy.

Delilah, the cause of the mothers death, ventured out from behind the counter, moving outside to the wooden porch on which her daddy sat. "Fine day, isn't it, pa?" She mused, brushing brunette strands of hair from her green eyes, which she then had to shield against the sun.

"As always. I'll help you out packing the deliveries later." He responded, affectionately placing a hand on his daughters arm. They were close, as any family of two would be.

"No you won't. You've done enough to see you retired three times over." Delilah had been slyly taking over the shop since she had turned sixteen, and by now she pretty much did it all. Again, there wasn't much to do, and so the young woman simply stood leaning against the front of the shop, waiting for any customers that might come along.
 
A shadowy stranger walked through the middle of town, horse spurs clinking and raven hair blowing in the wind. It had a bandana covering their face from the dust and a hat covering everything else. It looked at the shop then at the girl standing out front. "This town is fairly quiet, and quaint." Ulrika thought to herself. She thought about if she might get some money for the things she scavanged from the wreckage. She slowly walked toward the building, and just as slow up the steps, spurs clinking.
 
Ethan sat at his desk, flipping through papers and mindlessly reading them. His hat sat on the table next to the papers and a cigarette sat limp between his lips. Donald, his father, walked into the room and tipped his hat to him. "Father, is all this paper work really needed. I mean I know who is good and who is bad. I mean I deal with both on a daily basis, and so do you. There is no need to record everything. It only goes for a boring read, you ask me." Donald gave a low, rumbling laugh and patted him on the back. "Ah, son, it's required by Marshall law. It's not that bad, I mean you look you about finished it." "Ya, I'm going to head out on patrol now, I'm already a few minutes late." His father smiled and headed over to his desk, where he poured himself a small glass of whiskey and lit up a cigarette.

Ethan put his hat on, placed his trusty revolver, Daisy, into her holster, and headed out the door of the police station. The sun was bright in the sky and the young deputy smiled. He loved being outside and interacting with all that was LockBridge. It was a large town that had much to be explored for anyone who was new. Ethan knew the town front and back and still never got bored. For him, moreover, it was a thrill to exercise he power as deputy. Bringing outlaws to justice was such a thrill for him.

He said his greetings to a few people and walked along, making sure all was well. It happened to be a less than active day and he soon found himself walked off his route and talking to anyone he could. The people of LockBridge were friendly, and would gladly talk to their friendly deputy.
 
She blinked hearing chatter and looked around then noticed a young adult with a star on his chest. This was new to her, this person must be special somehow. Could he be an authority figure? It would be a change from the uniformed officers she's used to, back in Germany and that of the Eastern U.S. She just watched the young man quietly.
 
The stranger who had arrived was hardly your average traveller. She was female, of course, but not cut of the same cloth as most were. Her clothing was a dead giveaway, and Delilah couldn't help but be on her guard. Had it been a man dressed as such, she wouldn't have batted an eyelid, but in her experience, women who dressed so aggressively were invariably ne'er do wells of some kind. They were few and far between, but some were even vicious and lethal outlaws. Even so, there was a chance that this one was nothing too frightening, and so the young shopkeep called out to her.

"Were you in need of something, ma'am?" The passer by had seemed to be interested in the shop, just before her attention had been caught by the sherriffs son. He was part of the scenery to the townsfolk, although Delilah's father was more likely to speak with the lawmen than any. He liked sharing war stories with anyone, particularly the sherriff - who he always kept talking far longer than was necessary, until his daughter invented an excuse for him to retreat inside. Luckily, the ageing man didn't push his luck too far, though the daughter often felt rather embarrassed by his constant chatter. He was turning into an old gossip.
 
She looked at the young female and pulled down her bandana. "Erm, yes. I wanted to see if I could get anything for some Native American arrow heads and knives I uh.. found.." She spoke with a heavy German accent. "What say you Fraulein? Would you be interested?" She smiled, her visible face was dusty even though she had worn a bandana. "I have zem here." She began to reach around to her bag which was hidden inside her coat next to her pistols.
 
Ethan made his way to the shop which had the masked stranger and Delilah, standing out with her father. The stranger had peaked his interest, as it was an unusual fashion and it was his job to inquire. Ethan walked up the group, tipping his hat, and smiled. He said his hello to Delilah's father and herself, then turned his attention towards to mystery person. "Hey, I haven't seen you around here. You new? The name's Ethan. I'm the deputy around here. My father is Donald. Big man, crazy white beard. You'll know him if you see him." He laughed at that. "I figure you are new, any thing in particular peak your interest around here. LockBridge is a mighty fine place. I must admit." Ethan smiled once more and extended his hand out the person as a gesture of welcome.
 
The light-humming of weird-machinery filled the quiet atmosphere of the room in which they were messily laid upon. On the wooden ground, sitting crossed legged and poking at a control panel of sorts with an assortments of odd tools, was Jeremiah. His brown-orangish eyebrows were sharpened at a certain angle that made it seemed he was glaring down the warm piece of metal.

"Tch." Jeremiah spat, the rest of his words sounding like murmurs of complete nonsense, his hands tightened clearly show that what he would do next would decide whether the machine would finally work, but as a loud sharp noise and the little spark of electricity, Jeremiah jerked back his hand and a large frown formed. He leaned in slowly to inspect the control panel and he clicked his mouth in disappointment.

"I'm going to have to go to the shop and buy some more parts.." Jeremiah spoke to himself with a long sigh ensuing afterwards.

Jeremiah stood up slowly before wiping his sweaty forehead. He rolled up the sleeves of his white polo before he fixed his messy orange hair. He quickly re-adjusted his glasses that had slid to the very edge of his nose during his concentration and afterwards he straightened his leather vest before finally leaving via the wooden front door of his home.

The sun was relentless on this particular day and Jeremiah grabbed a leather hat that was left on the front porch's bench, he slipped it on and stepped onto the dusty road of LockBridge. The shop was a mere walking distance, he could make it there in less then a couple of minutes.

As he approached the familiar building, he stopped at the doorway as he could hear the voices of a couple of people, two of which were familiar but the others not so much.
 
A few hundred yards out of town Irving Smiles rides on a colorful covered wagon pulled by a young camel named Lincoln. On the side of the wagon a sheet hung with a painted picture of a muscle-bound man covered in tattoos. Above read "With Every Smile There's A Freak. On the other side was a cartoon caricature painting of the "African Wild-man", who was actually a childhood friend of Irving's that stumbled upon a set of fanged porcelain teeth. He decided to exploit the white man's fear and prejudices of Africans to the fullest. But that is another story.

The real story is the two hogtied, gagged men in the back of the obnoxious covered wagon. Two thieves who decided to rob a lone traveler or two. Well, before the could get to the second they robbed the wrong person. Irving was riding into the nearest town to drop these two criminals off before making his way to California. He could've left the two men to dry out in the desert, but his urge of wanting to tell the story of how he overcame the odds of two armed men and beat them bare handed. Whether it was all the truth or not didn't matter, he just wanted to show off a bit. And of course deliver the men up to the proper authorities, who will undoubtedly ask how the two men came to be in Irving's possession.

Their first few steps into town Irving and Lincoln noticed the horses becoming restless. Horses aren't too comfortable with the sounds of moaning and muffled cursing coming from grown men. Or maybe it was the stench of the foreign camel riding past. Either way they were ready for the attention they were about to get. Good OR bad.

"Well, another small town, Lincoln. Wonder if there is anything worth while here?" Irving said with a sarcastic tone, followed with a small laugh. If you didn't know better you could've sworn Lincoln laughed along with him, but hes a camel. Camel's don't laugh.

Irving guides the lanky camel behind the buildings to park his wagon. He unties Lincoln from the wagon.

"Anyone comes near... Ahh... Just don't let them near. Ok?" Irving says as he walks through a short ally back onto the main street.

"Hello?! Police! I need some help over here!" He shouts obnoxiously to over dramatize the situation.
 
"Oh.. Um.. Guten Morgan Herr Ethan. Ja.. I am new.. What is a.. Deputy?" She blinked never hearing the word before. She started to feel uncomfortable seeing the third man looking at her, there was more and more people gathering and she didn't like being the center of attention.
 
Ethan looked over at the man screaming. "Oh, you're foreign? That's interesting, I hate to cut a conversation short, but I need to attend to this." He departed the group and briskly walked over to the man who screaming for help. "What's the hollering about? What's wrong?" He looked around for any immediate disturbances. Frankly it was just this man shouting with nothing around them that seemed dangerous. "I'm the deputy around here."
 
"Nice badge..." Irving snapped back into his fake sense of urgency.

He put his two fingers to his lips and whistled waiting for something to happen. . .

"God damnit Lincoln. Wait here will ya deputy?"

Irving ran around back and dragged the camel around the coroner with the wagon.

"These darn beasts are more stubborn than elephant mothers." Irving reached into the back of the covered wagon with sounds of wrestling in the back. He came out and slapped Lincoln on the hind leg making him run a few yards past the deputy and pulling the two thieves out of the wagon.

"Here you go deputy with the shiny badge. Some excitement in this little town. Two notorious thieving swindlers." Irving looked proud of himself as he tugged on the right ropes of the hogtied bandits.
 
She exhaled slowly, relieved that she wasn't so crowded. She leaned against the railing, sighing softly, and looking at the other girl. "Have any smokes?"
 
It had been weeks since the bandit ventured into town, any town for that matter, and was at the end of her supplies. The last can of beans had been corroded by the heat of the sun and made her so ill she was up all night refunding the meal. Finally, after feeling her butt was going to fall off, Colt Franco spotted a town up ahead and wrapped her black, tattered scarf around her face, leaving only her blue and brown eyes exposed. Her face was dirty, and that would help conceal her identity and gender. The idea of a soft bed, whiskey and steak was almost too much for her fathom.

Risky, her black mustang, needed water and rest, too; they were lucky to stumble across this place. Riding into town she cautiously glanced around, sizing the town up. She spotted a saloon and didn't have to think twice—she was getting something to wet her throat. However, her venture towards the saloon was stalled, as she noticed a disturbance. 'What in blazes is going on o'er there?'
 
Ethan took a look at the two men tide up. "How in the hell? Look, I can't just take these men in. Don't work like that round here. I need proof. Ya know, somethin to tag thus fellas with. Have anything?" Ethan looked around at the gathering crowd. "People don't worry none, I got this handled. Just go bout tour business." He knelt before the fidgeting men and tried searching their bodies for anything. After finding nothing, he directed his stare up at the man.
 
The new shady stranger caught Ulrika's eye. She was intrigued and watched the stranger. She smiled at the curiosity of what the stranger might do if they saw someone who looked similar to them and pulled up her bandana so only her eyes too were showing.
 
Jeremiah had kept quiet for the majority of the conversations and events that seemed to be quickly flying by in this town of his. He chuckled every once in a while, but he just chose to stay a bit back and just analyze. His times traveling around the western parts of his home country allowed him to use that skill quite alot and eventually he found himself using it subconsciously.

From his pool of knowledge he believed the foreigner was German, and if not at least she was European. Her accent told off that much from her to a studious mind and he's heard rumors that women from Germany were quite the beauts, and under all the grime of the West she somewhat fit the picture from Jeremiah's perspective.

Forgetting about his original task of buying machinery parts, he followed the deputy as the enigmatic man had called for the authorities. The man that had called was rather odd to Jeremiah actually. He was clearly a Caucasian, but his loose demeanor and his attitude reminded the inventor something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. His opinion of the man being odd grew stronger as he saw the man's mount.

"Well, that right there's a camel if I'm not been mistaken'" Jeremiah spoke aloud, despite the deputy having his hands full with the odd man. He approached it slowly, wondering if it was agressive. "Camel's usually are vibrant down over at Egypt. How in God's name did you manage to get one here?" Jeremiah asked, turning to the man with curiosity plastered across his face.
 
Irving smiled at the man asking a question. Finally a story to break the ice. . .

" Well, kind sir, I have no clue really. I suppose he's just as American as we are. Born in New Orleans, raised in almost every state in the union. Hell his name is even Lincoln. But if I have to guess by the American domestication if this animal he's maybe forth or fifth generation American." Irving noticed he was getting caught up in his story.

"I'm Irving Smiles." Lincoln walks between the two men to the shade of the wagon.

Irving turned his attention to the crowd that was gathering around the bound men, wagon and camel. "Deputy, these men tried to rob me blind and rape my camel in the middle if the night. Confederates no doubt. I was going to tell some tall tales about how I single handedly beat the two men to submission, but I'm craving a nice stack of hay to sleep on and the comfort of a nice woman's beard. My camel Lincoln here trampled both men then I tied them up best I could."
 
"Right," Ethan began, now standing upwards, "I'll get these men to the jail. Get their stories and then decide from there." Ethan whistled in a distinct fashion and suddenly appeared a man with a rifle in his hand. "Go on and take this men back to the station. Tell Donald I sent you with em." The man nodded and loaded them onto a horse nearby, where he trotted down to the station. "Well Irving, the name's Ethan. Don't leave town too quick. I might need you again down the road. You enjoy yourself and, well, same goes to Lincoln." Ethan tipped his hat to Irving and turned towards the shop with the foreigner. There we walked over and stood in front of them. "I apologize madam, that was awful rude of me. Now, I forgot if I even asked your name. Delilah," He spoke turning his head towards her, "Do you know this woman?" He wasn't patronizing, more of inquiring. He liked to know all who entered and left LockBridge.
 
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