The sun rose in the east over the dusty landscape. A light breeze rolled tumbleweeds across the barren earth and sitting atop a jet black stallion sat a lone gunslinger. Resting his arm on the horn of his silver crested grey saddle, the man stared off into the west from under the brim of his sleek black cowboy hat. His horse shifted his weight from boredom as far in the west the silhouette of the morning train came into view. Glancing around the horizon casually, he looked for any sign that the law was around. He'd chosen this vantage point to give himself a clear view for miles in every direction. After hours of stalking the sight out, he'd seen no trace of any lawmen. He was far enough from the nearest town that no lawmen or bounty hunter would pass this way without good reason. Smirking to himself, he straightened up on his horse and pulled his black bandana up over his nose. Removing his six-shooters in turn from the holster on his waist, he checked them to make sure they were good to go. Then clicking the barrels back into place, he put them back and turned his horse to start descending the hill to make his way casually to the tracks.

Reaching the tracks, he turned his back to the train and kept his horse walking at a nice steady pace. The train whistle sounded to alert him that it was coming, but he knew from experience that he was fine where he was. His horse snorted restlessly, trying to shift into a trot, but he held him back to keep him moving at a slow prance now. Diesel had done this enough to know what was about to happen and was eager to do it. As the train started cruising by, Nathan waited as the dining cars and passenger cargos passed him. He didn't see any lawmen in or on the train. Glancing back to see the back of the train, he grinned under his bandana. No escorts. Their mistake. Just before the last train car was moving up beside them, he kicked his horse into a run. Diesel's hooves kicked up dirt and dust as he bolted to keep up with the train. As the last train car began to pass them, he adjusted into a crouch on his saddle. Timing it just right, he braced himself to grab the railing and jumped for it. Catching the railing for the stairs, the man grunted as his side hit the rest of the metal railing that fenced off the last car.

Pulling himself up with his arms, he got his feet on the stairs and moved up onto the caboose. Letting out a low whistle to Diesel to signal him to stay close, he kicked in the caboose door and entered it quickly. The caboose was stuffed with luggage from the lower class passengers, but they were small fish in a much bigger lake. Jogging through, he opened the next unlocked door into another cargo car where the poor immigrants that had probably just arrived from across the sea sat. Some were Chinamen and others were Irishmen. All too poor to afford the cushy seats of the train and looking for work. Every last one of them were sitting on trunks or on the floor, looking dirty and exhausted from their long trip. Stepping over them, he gestured for them to stay calm as they tensed up. He doubted they'd learned much english yet to understand what he was doing. Passing them, he kept going and once he reached the middle class car, he withdrew one of his guns. As he entered the car, he held up his gun and announced clearly. "Ladies and Gentlemen! I kindly ask that you remain seated for your safety. I have a bad trigger finger and I'm NOT here for you! Ya'll understand?"

A man in a long trench coat slid out of his seat and whirled around to aim his gun at him, prompting him to shoot the man between the eyes before he could even get a shot off. The man fell back dead in the isle, and the passengers shrieked or gasped. Pointing his gun around more seriously, he told them in a much darker voice. "Maybe I wasn't being clear enough. Move and you die!" Glancing out the window of the train, he saw his marker and knew he had to pick up his pace. Jumping over the dead gunmen, he quickly rushed to the next car and kicked it in. The rich snobs in the dining car jumped and gasped, but he stood menacingly in the doorway and called out. "Howdy! Let's make this quick, shall we? I don't have much patience and dead people are quicker to search." Removing his satchel, he flipped it open and tossed it onto the first table. Then withdrawing his second gun, he clicked back the hammers and growled out. "Jewelry and money in the bag. Refuse and I'll shoot you down like a dog without hesitation." The first table quickly removed their jewelry and money to put into the bag, while a man at another table bitterly stated out. "Filthy lowlife. Why don't you make something of yourself?"

Narrowing his eyes on the man, he pointed one of his guns on him as he growled out darkly. "Not all men are created equal. So, the great equalize was made... gunslingers. Say another word and I'll save a life by putting another politician in the ground. I know exactly who you are... and I know you've heard my name, Jackass. Shut up and pay up." They quickly loaded up the bag with everything as a woman whispered to her friend. "Oh, my god. I think I know who he is..." Holstering a gun, he picked up the full satchel and moved to a window. Smashing the window open with the handle of his gun, he whistled and tossed the satchel out. Once it was gone, he moved up to the woman and lifted her chin with the end of his pistol. Looking down into her eyes, he told her seriously. "Tell your husband that I'm coming for him." She swallowed, nervously asking him. "You're Nathan Sharp, aren't you?" Nathan turned his gun away from her neck to shoot a bullet into the floor between her feet, causing her jump and scream. Then raising the smoking gun back to aim at her face, he cocked back the hammer and told her sternly. "To you I'm the devil's son. Only my friends call me by my name. And you sure as hell are not my friend."

Lowering her eyes away from his, she uttered out through her teeth. "My husband is going to hang you." Pushing the brim of his hat up with his pistol, Nate purred out to her smugly. "He's gonna have to catch me first." Straightening up, he saw the conductor waving a red bandana out of the window of the engine to signal the train station to alert the lawmen. Quickly holstering his gun, he rushed back out the door from where he came. Stepping out into the rushing wind between the attached train cars, he whistled and waited for Diesel. A few men got up in the train car to snatch their guns. Just as they were rushing over to the door, Nate leapt off the train and grabbed Diesel's saddle. Diesel instantly started to slow to put them out of range of the unskilled shooters, allowing him to adjust himself into the saddle and take the strap of the satchel from Diesel's mouth. Slinging the strap over his head, he cursed as he saw the deputies riding out after him. Turning Diesel to head in the opposite direction, he kicked him into a run. He was not going to be taken in today. He was going to lose them. Whatever it took.

Within the town of Iron Hills, Jack jumped back as a set of deputies rode through town like their arse was on fire. The Marshal rode with them, but Jack paid them no mind. There was always someone robbing or killing someone every other week. It was the reason why he didn't live in the town but on the outskirts of it. Spotting the Mayor and the Sheriff, he rushed over to block their path. The mayor stopped, letting out a long drag from his cigar as he asked him dryly. "What can I do for you?" Shuffling his feet a bit nervously, Jack told him seriously. "Mayor, I need your help. You know it's a dry season this year. I'm gonna lose my farm if you don't do something. I just need you to talk the banker into holding off until harvest season. You know I'm good for it." The mayor sighed heavily, them shrugged out to him. "I'm sorry, Jack. But I can't do that. With the mines reopening and bigger business looking to come by... Well, everyone has to pull their weight and do their share. Your little farm is nice. But if you can't run it, then maybe you should sell. A lot of folks are selling. I know that he's made you an offer-"

Jack cut him off to snap out in a thicker Irish accent. "I'm not selling! I put every cent I have into that land. It's mine! You can't expect me to pull miracles from my arse! I can't force plants to grow and animals to mature! I need time! And the weather isn't helping." The mayor put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a pitiful smile when he told him nicely. "Look. I know you farmers have it tough... I feel for ya. I do. But I can't just keep breaking the rules for you. How would that look to other folks that make a living? They have debts they have to pay on time too." Swatting his hand off him, Jack sternly told him. "Maybe if you stopped raising taxes to dig back into that old fucking mine, you'd be able to afford it! People here need what I bring in every year. They eat because of us farmers!" The mayor puffed on his cigar a moment, then told him bluntly. "I won't be accused of showing favoritism, Jack. Now, if you can't pay. The bank will take your farm and I'll simply hire cheap workers to run it to keep this town fed. Men that will appreciate it and will tend the land right. Then once the mine reopens... you can work there."

Shaking his head, Jack told him stubbornly. "I'm not selling. And you're not taking my land." The mayor chuckled heartily and started walking away as he stated confidently over his shoulder. "The government owns the land you're standing on, Kid. That's why you pay taxes." Jack bowed his head in defeat, when a woman in fancy clothes and running makeup ran past him toward the mayor. Grabbing his arm, she rushed out. "He's here! He robbed me!" The mayor turned to calm her, asking confused. "What are you going on about, woman?" Taking a breath, she regaled in a more composed voice. "That outlaw. The Battle Ballad Bandit. He's here. He robbed the train and threatened me! He said that he's coming for you." Jack wanted to care, but his heart wouldn't let him. At this point, he felt like the outlaw could do what he wanted to the old tyrant. The mayor faced the Sherriff, telling him seriously. "The Marshal was right. Mark, take your horse and ride out. See if he needs your help to bring him in." Jack snuck a discreet glance at Mark. Mark pushed his tan brimmed hat up, shaking his head as he told him firmly. "I don't think that's wise. The Marshal is the one after him. Let him chase him around the mountains. I have to look after the people of this town. If he shows up here. Then I'll deal with him."

The mayor sounded a little disappointed but answered coolly. "You're right. That is out of your jurisdiction. Well... Good day to you, Sheriff. I'm gonna take my wife home. Rain check on breakfast?" Mark tipped his hat to him, and Jack couldn't help noticing how finely dressed Mark was. His tan hat matched his long tan trench coat. Beneath that he wore a brown vest with brass buttons and a clean white shirt. His brown pants matching well with everything right down to his cowboy boots. Out of all the people in town, he found Mark to be bearable. He had his flaws but did his job to the best of his skills. Although, he knew very little about him. Walking away from him, Jack made his way toward his horse cart and watched the shopkeeper load up the last of the animal feed in the back. The shopkeeper winced when he saw his face, asking gently. "He didn't help, huh?" Shaking his head, Jack mumbled out grimly. "No... I don't know what to do. If I can't pay by the end of the month... I can't even imagine it. I have nowhere else to go. And I'm not working in the mines..."

The shopkeeper put his old and shaking hand on his arm, telling him with a sweet smile. "Take it one day at a time." Jack nodded, then pulled out the last of his coins from his pocket. It pained him to hand them over to the shopkeeper, but his animals had to eat and he'd... find a way to get by." The shopkeeper could see his pain but accepted his money and left him. Locking up the cart, Jack climbed on, when Mark strolled over and told him so warmly. "I know it doesn't seem fair. But the mayor is trying to help generate new income for the town. Things will be rocky for a while." Glancing around briefly, Mark looked up at him and said hopefully. "How about I come by later? I've been meaning to get some livestock together for myself. Maybe we can help each other out?" Nodding, Jack tried not to blush as he squeaked out. "Sure. We can talk about it. You wanna go now?" Mark shook his head, gesturing around as he told him grimly. "I can't. I've got to stay on watch. Later tonight I can ride by, if that is alright?" Giving him a nervously nod, Jack shrugged out a little excitedly. "Sure. I'm usually up late anyway."

Mark gave him a thumbs up, walking away and petting Jack's horse as he went about his daily stroll through town. Turning his horse to head out, Jack felt his excitement grow to have the sheriff over. He didn't like the idea of selling his animals, but if he managed to sell even one or two, he might get enough money to help him with other expenses for the rest of the month. While heading home, he thought about the outlaw that robbed the train and sighed. He wasn't comfortable with an outlaw lurking around. He was so far from most people that it made him an easy target for outlaws. It was almost noon by the time he got home at his current pace. The wagon was heavy, and he didn't want to stress out his only horse. His little fenced in farm came into view and for a split second he was happy. Until he saw that his barn was on fire and his cattle were being chased from the fence and out to the mountains. When the people saw him approaching, they quickly turned tail and bolted in the opposite direction. Their laughter ringing out over the open valley. Jumping off the wagon, he ran up to his burning barn to watch helplessly as it burned. Painted across the doors of the barn were the words. 'Nice try! SELL!' To Be Continued...