My pocket watch was nowhere to be found. I had turned over everything in this room and nothing. Had I been robbed, it wouldn't be hard to phantom. I exhaled. I needed to stay focused. Come on, Ron, you can do this. Today, you will get a job. I closed the door, adjusted myself, and walked towards the front of the Gentleman's Den.

A glass thudded on the counter. "The rent is due this week, Ron."

The bar dog had his white cloth over his shoulder. He wore a red vest and a white apron. His drinks were laid out, and he surveyed them. Beside him was a handwritten letter with a seal. He shifted it under the counter as he noticed me looking at it.

I licked my lips and avoided his gaze, stopping by the bar. "I know. Just give me some more time to find a job."

"This is about a month going into two now. I would be in my right to put you out just after a week."

My eyes darted to the floor. "I promised I will have the money."

The bar dog scratched the back of his neck and continued to shine the glass in his hand. Sweat ran down my back as my eyes gazed around the empty room, waiting for his response.

"Where do you plan to target now? Have you been to all the stores?"

I cleared my throat. "I still have to try the bank and the pig farm further down the road, maybe a ranch hand at the stables."

"A pig farm, rag proper like that?"

"Yeah, something's wrong?"

"You ever dealt with a pig? You look like you're going on a fancy date."

"No, it is just to look professional."

"Professional, you definitely are from the city."

"What do people here do for representation of the law?"

The bar dog chuckled. "Representation by law?"

"Don't people need defending when they go to jail? Maybe I can —"

"The law is what the sheriff says it is, and that's it and since he's not here, the people he put in charge enforce it. It's easy to tell who the law favors."

"That's —"

"Listen, I will work with you, Ron. You seem like a good man. When you get whatever actual, you can, you pay with interest, of course."

"Thank you, thank you."

"It's a win-win. I am sure you will figure something out and with the deputy at your back. At least my girls won't get so much hassle."

I ran my hand over my beard.

"Don't worry about it. Get some prog, head upstairs, and get some breakfast. Let the waitress know I sent you."

"Okay, thanks again."

"Well, go ahead then, Ron. Don't stand here like you're at sea."

I headed up the stairs and followed the path of the hall. I found myself in the breakfast area. The waitress stood by a table, and her eyes shifted to me. "What can I get you?"

"Can I get some coffee, bread, and eggs?"

"Sure, that's it?" the waitress asked.

"Yes, the bar dog downstairs said it's on him."

"Oh," she said, moving towards what looked like a kitchen.

I took my seat at a table and waited. My stomach was kicking up a storm. I was more grateful for this meal than the bar dog might even know. I had been pinching these last few days just to make it through. The amount of actual I had would not get me through to tomorrow. This was do or die. Bill came to mind, but I had not seen the man since that day we played cards.

After eating, I left the Gentlemen's Den and got on my horse that I had detached from the wagon. The wagon was tempting to sell. It was by willpower and the fact I knew we needed it to leave that stayed my hand. I just had to hold on and get a job. You can do this, Ron! I turned the horse and galloped towards the bank.

The sign printed in white was the bank. It was clear and easy to see for miles. For a bank out here, it was very big. I hitched my horse outside, noticing the two guards beside the wall.

"Good morning," I said.

The two men did not even give a response. Their eyes, however, inspected me.

I tipped my hat and pushed open the door. Inside was a young man hidden behind burglar bars in a spacious, clean room. Light entered freely through the windows, and the room carried a fresh fragrance compared to the dung that followed Black Water. All the other stations were empty. Another guard with his hand in his holster turned to meet me. I took my first step, and the wood tapped.

"Good morning," I said.

"Good morning, sir. How may I help you?"

I stepped forward towards his station. "Yes, are there any jobs available here or would I need to talk to someone senior?"

"Jobs? The bank doesn't need anyone, sir." He pointed towards the two other empty stations. "No one has been hired here in over three years. The bank has been reducing, sir. Only kept this job because of being here first. Hardly anyone comes in now." He muttered off. "Unless they're desperate."

My head dipped. "Do you know where I can get a job here?"

"The only job you can get here is in the war of the land."

"That's what I keep getting told."

"You saw the farmers coming in, right?"

"Yeah, I see them."

"Abandoning their land and setting up either by the Inn or registering."

"But people still have to eat. What happens to that —"

The clean-shaved man tapped the desk. "My advice would be to leave the town and look elsewhere." His voice lowered. "Don't be tempted to take a loan here."

"What's wrong with the loans?" I whispered.

"You'll see it across town. If you can't pay the bank, it takes everything you own and if you own nothing, they dump you into the war." His eyes narrowed. "They sell you to the government."

"What?"

"Now that Sheriff Saul is —"

The door opened behind me, and an oval face man with a bald patched head walked into the line. He was overweight, with his sides bursting from the seams. The teller froze for a moment, smiled, and said good day, sir.

The manager?

I paused, thanked the man by the station, and left. Outside, I gazed around at the people moving on with their business. A chorus of shouting followed.

"Bull Prosecutors!" a young boy shouted while waving down the people passing on the road with a newspaper. "The Bull Prosecutors are doing demonic rituals; a visit to the doctor is your only cure."

"How will you fight a battle if you don't have the right ammunition? Protect yourself from bandits, Bull Prosecutors, and your woman's lover. Get a dueling pistol for the strike of noon."

"This town is forsaken. The burned church represents that. These monsters, God will punish these heathens for wearing men's flesh. The best way to do this is by offerings. The more you pay, the greater the flock can grow and purge the evil that's taken root in this town."

The town folks had given them every ability under the book, from levitating, stealing cows to kidnapping. If it was evil, it had the Bull Prosecutor's name attached.

People gathered around the criers. They took their advertisement pamphlets and handed over small amounts of actual.

"Push your barrow," one of the bank guards said to me.

I stepped down the stairs and got on my horse. Where should I go now, the pig farm down the road?

I flipped a single coin in my hand. The pig farm it is.

On arrival, I realized that this might have been a mistake. Now knee-deep in mud, one word from the owner sealed my chances.

"Have you ever dealt with pigs?"

I knew I wasn't getting a job here.

I exhaled. "Sorry for wasting your time."

The grizzled old man grunted at me and spat on the ground as I brushed the mud off my pants.

This sequence continued as I went from one place to the next in the town. I either got dismissed outright or ignored. Most people who spoke to me seemed at the edge of fighting for their lives to survive. They were fighting a battle against the bank or loan sharks coming to collect actual. People were struggling to find someone to buy what they had.

What had the sheriff done by choosing these people to be in charge of the town?

I rode back to the Inn with the sunset behind me. I had been everywhere today that I had missed out before in every nook and cranny. The registration lines were long, and I understood why most would see that as their only way out. I came to a halt outside the Gentlemen's Den.

"It seems we meet again, Ron."

I turned to see Bill on his horse, stopping beside me.

"You're still here."

"Yes, I am waiting on a man, well, two, to restock my low supplies."

"That job you mentioned to me the last time we spoke. Is that offer still available?"

"Yes," Bill smiled. "Yes, of course."

#

I had followed Bill's lead, but what had I gotten myself into?

From the time the wagon pulled into the village. Bill imparted one word to me: smile. A shouting crowd of desperate women flocked. They pushed, fought, and airin' the lungs at each other. It was like he was some warlock mystifying them with his hands. He made them dance almost to a tune with sweet honeycomb words. Words that they all wanted to hear, even me. I pitied the women in the beginning, every last one of them, as I took their actual, jewelry and whatever else they could trade in value. Bill never said no to let any lady down. The crates cleared, and with a pause, I questioned my morals. I questioned my decisions to this point. However, the lust in my heart yearned for more as each exchange went; it was more potent than Pirate Rum. Bill swayed these women, and he had swayed me. My hangover was quick as I watched happily, doomed women walk away. Guilt struck me as the actual for the day's work hit my hand. It was all for this, one bottle smaller than my palm for these women and me. It promised everything.