//------------------------------// // The Town of Broadbrook // Story: Gonna Cut You Down // by Gapeagle //------------------------------// The mining town of Broadbrook was a night's ride through the badlands. The two sisters set up camp only when Abby felt like she couldn't ride any longer. Jack allowed only three hours of rest for her little sister before she forced her to continue on the journey. She told her sister many times about how they need to reach the town as fast as possible. Abby was a tough girl, and did not complain often. A rooster crowed on a wooden fence when Jack and her sister rode into the small town. It was a simple western town with only the necessary buildings and nothing else. It had a tavern, a hotel, a doctor, a general store, a sheriff, and a good looking white church. The homes of the residence were a bit farther away from the town, being close to the copper tunnels that kept the town running. Jack dismounted her horse and hitched the stallion to a post in front of the tavern. With one boot still in a stirrup, she adjusted her hat and inspected the town around her. Since it was early morning, most of the people were in mines. The place did not seem dead, but it was not lively either. Not a soul was on the porches that overlooked the dirt road, but the distant sounds of people talking or laughing could be heard. Abby was about to follow, but Jack held a halting hand to stop her. "I'll be headin' in the tavern. Ain't no place for one of your age. Jus' keep the horses fresh." "Ya gonna leave me out here when there could be trou-" "Quiet!" Jack harshly whispered. "We don't know nothin' yet. We only came here cause it would be logical of them bandits to find rest here. There could be folk that needs God's smitin' and there could not be. We need to be ready, but don't ya start spreading panic. I'll be right out." Jack the pointed at a water trough. "Looky there. Take Hester and Little Queen over there to get some water." Abby still seemed annoyed at her sister's orders, but hopped off to take the horses over for a drink. Jack patted her obedient sister's head with approval before turning to the swinging doors of the tavern. Her spurs were loud with movement as the tavern's ghostly demeanor did nothing to interrupt the quiet of the town. She entered the tavern to see only three or four patrons inside. Only two sat at the same table, the others were in the far corners, unwilling to socialize. It was not an old tavern, but it was a simple one. It possessed a bar, a piano, and tables, but that was it. Unlike some of the taverns in Heavenshire or Appleloosa had stages for its showgirls or traveling entertainers. This tavern was as bare bones as they got, not even having a hundred types of beverages on the shelves behind the bar. It was no surprise hardly any patrons were there, as in some towns, even the morning hours has a crowd. One patron took Jack's notice instantly. It was a young woman with a pale, unblemished face, holding an opened leather-bound book in her white-gloved hands. She wore a purple dress with pink and black accessories. A small, pink hat with decorative white flowers rested on her head with her purple and light green curls beneath it. She had no dust or grime on her, which in a mining town, was strange. No drink was in her possession and her only purpose seemed to be reading her little black book. She alone was the most vibrant thing in the tavern full of gray, dark brown, and rusty orange. The bartender was speaking with a showgirl, who was obviously off-duty with the morning hours. They spoke as partners and not lovers. Jack overheard them talking about a new building that may come up in the town. The woman was eager for it, the bartender was worried the town was growing too fast. "Ya got a stranger, David," the showgirl pointed at Jack, "better get to it." "Of course," he nodded and slowly made his way to the bar. The bartender was a tall, lanky man with spotless white hair that did nothing to match his younger age. There was nothing off about him at all. He was not clean like the sitting woman as his face had black spots on it, probably from soot. His apron used to be white, but was now a disgusting pale yellow. However, his light blue eyes were friendly enough, so Jack didn't mind. "Heya, miss," he smiled. "What brings you to humble Broadbrook? There ain't much beyond us." Jack's eyes shifted around casually before answering. "Nothin' much, partner. I do have my reasons though." "Ah, if it's rest you need, we have a great hotel. It's certainly the be-" Jack interrupted him with a quick whisper. "Have ya seen any strange folk around here?" He blinked in confusion. "Not really. Actually, none at all. We don't get many people this far west except the ranchers and they don't even stay here but move on to Queensburg." "Ya telling me ya don't get any strangers?" Jack was surprised. "Then who is that women in pink? She don't look like she belongs here." "Miss Garner?" the bartender chuckled. "Why, she's our new preacher. I'm sure ya saw the chapel out there. I mean, it's hard to miss." Jack looked back at her. The woman was still reading from her supposedly holy book. Her legs, in a rather not-lady-like manner, were propped up on the chair in front of her, showing her black heeled boots that hardly had a speck of dust on them. She seemed to wear nothing that was made on the badlands. Even the showgirls appeared more country than she did. "A preacher? She don't look like one. I ain't seen a preacher that could rival the city women in fashion alone," Jack grunted. "I remember my town of Appleloosa. Our Preacher, Brother Arnold, was already wearin' black and smelled like the Hell he preached against. She looks like she jus' got off a train from the capital!" "Well, that's just how she is," the bartender shrugged. "Miss Garner is one to look fine while preaching. It's her style and none of us care to point it out. She's the daughter of a businessman in Heavenshire. She wanted to move west and she did, but she's got no skill as a woman. Tell her to sew and she'll look at you with a blank face. Tell her to bake and she'll make you a pie that the flies won't dare touch. What she got is the money she brought from her family and her reading. She's the best reader and writer in the badlands, I tell you. Her brain and wit is more than all of Broadbrook combined. So just cause she doesn't look the part doesn't mean she isn't the part, ma'am." Jack was about to argue once more, but she was interrupted. Her attentive ears heard the leather-bound book shut. The sound of the boots meeting the cold wooden floor followed. The woman was up and she was walking right over to the bar. "I apologize if I intrude," Miss Garner said in a sweet voice that could make the hardest heart melt. "I heard my name uttered." "Oh Miss Garner," the bartender noted with respect. "We have a new guest in our town. Miss...erm..." "Ya can jus' call me Jack," Jack reached a hand out to the preacher. Miss Garner hesitated upon seeing Jack's filthy palm. It was not polite to offer a hand to a lady, especially in the eastern cities. It was easy to tell women from the badlands with woman from the east, as the badland women would shake a hand, no matter how filthy or lumpy it was. Garner's reaction just proved to Jack that she was quite new to badland culture. After the moment of hesitation, she did take the hand and offered a weak shake that didn't move Jack's hand at all. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jack," Miss Garner smiled, showing perfectly white teeth, "Welcome, welcome to our little town. I'm the preacher, hehe, that's what I contribute to this fine little society." "So I've heard," Jack smiled back. "Miss Jack here was wondering if any strangers roam these parts," the bartender said to the preacher. "No one has ever been through here since I arrived four months ago," Miss Garner told Jack with sincerity. "Well, no one that has ever been here twice. We've seen the wandering rancher family go by here on their way to Queensburg." It was the same tale that the bartender had told her. Perhaps the bandits did not go to Broadbrook? Jack was trying to piece it together. Six surveyors dead just hours south of the town and the horse tracks led northward. There was nothing but wasteland between the camp and here. Any sensible bandit wouldn't take on more horses than he had men and stay out in the countryside. No, a smart bandit would sell the horses. There was something wrong going on and Jack could not figure out what it was. Jack then shrugged and smiled at the two of them. "Well then, I guess my sister and I will stay a few days in town. She's not one for long journeys, so a hotel night or two would do her good." "That sounds fantastic," Miss Garner beamed. "The hotel is just across the street,. It's owned by a lovely young woman named Sarah Bradshaw. She'll take care of you. She bakes a great batch of muffins too." "Well then, why am I wastin' time here?" Jack faked the laugh and walked through the doors. When she got outside, Abby was right there, leaning on a porch pole. At the instant she saw her older sister, she rolled her eyes. It was not hard to annoy the girl and Jack knew this well. "Well, ya said ya was gonna be out right away..." Abby started. Jack blocked her words from her ears. She looked at Abby, pretending to be giving her full attention, but in reality, her ears focused on other things. Miss Garner and the bartender were now speaking to each other in hushed tones. The two undoubtedly thought that Jack couldn't hear them whisper, but they didn't know who they were dealing with. "David," Miss Garner spoke with less kindness than before, "a woman of her kind just walking into here at this hour is rare and suspicious. She's a gunslinger, I can tell you that." David quickly replied. "What do you want me to do? We ought to welcome anybody. I aim to do that to the best of my ability, Miss Garner." "And that's fine," Miss Garner returned with a huff, "however, there must be a limit somewhere." David planted his hands on the bar. "I aim to be welcoming." "Fine then!" Miss Garner growled. "I'll see you in the chapel." Miss Garner then walked out of the doors as well. Her heels paused on the dusty planks and she took a step back to look at David once more. This time however, her rosy red lips were back in an exceptionally friendly smile. "And Mr. Dickson, please put some real clothes on your showgirls. They don't need to be flaunting their bodies this early in the morning." She then finally carried on and walked down the street as if Jack and Abby were not there. "Wow, she's a pretty woman," Abby remarked as the both of them watched her walk towards the chapel. "Too pretty for a place like this," Jack grunted. "Come along, Abby, ya better get used to seeing this town, ya gonna be livin' in it for a few days." "Well, I ain't gonna complain," Abby chuckled. "It's about time we've had some rest. We were almost outta bean too! We need to head to the store to resupply." Jack popped another cigarette in her mouth. Damn it, this is the last one. At the request of her little sister, she tossed a pair of silver dollars her way. "Go on then," she said, "spend it wisely. Every cent spent is a cent lost." Jack never enjoyed spending money, as she and her sister had no way of making it back. With Ma, Pa, and their old Granny Smith six feet under the worthless dirt, they had not earn a cent since. When they could easily spend money was back when they had a family and a orchard. The only true orchard in the badlands. That was so long ago, Jack forgot how it felt to walk among the apple trees they grew. Ever since she had begun on quest to find that rotten Midnight Rider, family and hope was so distant that it seemed that it was never there in the first place. The sun now watched her with its growing intensity. It was mid-morning, which always felt like the burning noon in the badlands. Jack took her cigarette out, letting out the smoke she had kept in her cheeks. Her eyes went over to the chapel once more. It was a simple white chapel that would always be roaring with praise on a Sunday morning. By now, Miss Garner had reached the door of the place and walked in without looking back. What a woman to be seen out in these badlands. "I think I oughtta attend one of her sermons," Jack said aloud. ~*~