Castle Gulch

[Narrator]

She gets up and shakes the dust off her pants and trenchcoat-ish jacket. The toolbelt around her hips hasn't changed too much safe for some of the more high-tech ones. The two mechanical limbs meant to unspool from her back are gone entirely though, in their place is a rifle slung over her shoulder. She takes a conscious look around the area for the first time and is met with sparse vegetation in what looks suspiciously like the American south-west. Behind her the heat-distortion haze of the portal hangs in the air, conveniently nestled between some rocky outcroppings. In the distance she can make out train tracks and following their path with her eyes she spots cattle and the occasional building, which means there's a nearby settlement, perhaps even a town. She'd told Will she'd be right back but she should at least gather some information first while she's here...

Shrugging the rifle into a more comfortable position she sets out towards the signs of civilization.

Ashlie crested a ridge, and there, sprawled out before her, lay a town called "Castle Gulch" -- at least, if the wooden, hand-painted sign could be trusted. A crooked main street ran down the center, if one could even call it a street -- it was, in fact, little more than packed dirt, rutted by wagon wheels and horse hooves. The buildings there had impressive false fronts backing the squat wooden buildings behind them, promising grandeur and civilization that hadn't quite reached out this far. The weathered signs glinted in the late-afternoon sun -- GENERAL STORE, SMITHY, UNDERTAKER, and so on and so forth. The smell of coal and bacon drifted faintly up the slope; coming from the chimneys poking out of the patchwork of tin and warped shingles topping the buildings. A water tower perched near the far edge of town, casting it's shadow below.

The eastern side of the valley saw the jailhouse and sherrif's office, windows barred and imposing. It also happened to guard the only road eastward, as the rocky gulch walls beyond it narrowed into a single canyon. It was easier to approach from the west, where battered corrals and lean-to stables housed a herd of cattle. Or, I suppose, you could just traipse down from the northern ridge Ashlie was coming down.

The largest building in the heart of town? The Lucky Spur Saloon, clearly the center of culture in this fine place. Laughter, piano music, and the occasional angry shout drifted upward, part of the soundscape of the town that included the rhythmic clank of a blacksmith's hammer and the whinnies of horses.

In short -- a dusty town, perhaps a little tired and rough around the edges, but still clinging to life in the West.

[Ashlie Minamida]

Ashlie makes her way down the ridge by heading roughly east towards the 'proper' way into town and also to avoid too much of a climb. She's already a stranger wandering in, no need to do it while tumbling down into somebody's backyard. She still ends up having to skid on her boots here and there but manages to reach the road not much worse for wear and not much dustier than anybody else would be. There aren't a lot of people in the street but as she walks towards the saloon she notices two figures lingering in the street near the general store. They look harmless enough, just a man and a woman in plain farmer's clothes, currently in the process of trying to talk up a man leaving the store. Uncertain what that is about but wanting to avoid being this directly accosted she steps into the saloon.

[Narrator]

The Lucky Spur Saloon had with it a familiar blend of whiskey, smoke and sweat, wafting out through the swinging doors. Inside, the light was dim and amber-hued, thanks to the dusty glass oil lamps and what little light filtered through the smoke-stained windows.

It wasn't quite as lively as it could be yet -- still relatively early in the afternoon, judging by the angle of the sun, but there was still the din of piano music and chairs scraping on the floor. The bar was on the right, shelves of mismatched bottles semi-randomly arranged behind it in front of a cracked mirror. There were a few early arrivals seated at the scattering of round tables throughout the room, a lanky man with a bowler hat tipped jauntily on his head at the piano on top of the raised stage. A curtain beside the stage hid a narrow stairway leading up to the balcony and the saloon’s private rooms.

Ashlie's arrival did not seem to immediately get anyone to jump out of their seats in shock and surprise.

[Ashlie Minamida]

Ashlie walks over to the bar, glancing around to get a feel for the general atmosphere. This is not exactly a scenario she's familiar with and assuming it mirrors her own history of the American south-west would probably be foolhardy. She slides the rifle from her shoulder, making sure to grab it by the barrel and set it down, propped against the bar. "Afternoon." she nods at the barkeeper, realizing she's wearing some kind of hat and takes off the cloth slouch hat to put on the bar counter.

"Could I bother you for a non-alcoholic drink? Dealer's choice."

[Narrator]

A generic non-alcoholic drink? An odd request, but a good bartender knows when not to press too hard. The bartender himself -- tall, broad shoulders, with salt-and-pepper hair swept back and tied up and adorned with a thick, grizzled beard, nodded.

"One coffee, comin' up," he said, turning to a big cast-iron pot and filling a heavy tin mug. "Don't think I've seen you around here before, ma'am. Come in with the stage?"

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Much appreciated." she nods. "I just arrived, yes. Just passing through but hoping to connect with a friend round these parts. You wouldn't happen to know anyone with green hair?"

[Narrator]

"Green?" the bartender asked, raising an eyebrow. "I can't say we get anyone 'round these parts like that; not too often at any rate. Maybe back towards one of the big cities; but we're a little more quiet out here."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Hmm, that's unfortunate though they might not have dyed it that way. The name Stanton ring any bells by any chance?"

[Narrator]

The bartender shook his head. "Not a name that rings a bell for me, no. Were you just supposed to meet your friend here, or were they supposed to be livin' out here, too?"

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Might've just been passing through in search of a place to settle down in. Been a while since we last connected when they went by Will Stanton. Wouldn't be the first one to reimagine themselves on their way out west, I reckon."

[Narrator]

"Lookin' for a new life out in the wilds, huh? I s'pose they wouldn't be the first.

I don't know no Will Stanton, and I know most everyone in town. But there are those around who don't live in town -- either in one of the smaller camps, or just someone who keeps to their lonesome and comes in for supplies."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Suppose I'll have to keep my eyes peeled. I'll be out there regardless, surveying for a possible railroad line." she says. May as well establish a reason for why a stranger is wandering around the town and surrounding area.

[Narrator]

"Oh, are they finally deciding to get out this way, then? That'll ruffle some feathers, for sure, but I won't lie, a connection back East wouldn't be the worst thing we've come across by far."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Depends on how feasible it is to run it through the canyon. Harder sell to go round north or south and double back, especially if it'd cut through peoples' claims, but not impossible." she says, catching herself actually running through some of the calculations and approaches of running a railroad through what she's seen of the geography on her approach. Less messy than getting things done in Mutant Town, certainly. The freedom from regulations and constraints of existing infrastructure has a strange kind of appeal. Probably why people settled this town to begin with.

[Narrator]

"Well, you watch yourself. There's plenty who would rather the railroad take a wide berth of this place, if you know what I mean. Then again, it looks like you're bringing with you...proper precautions," he said, tipping his hat at Ashlie's rifle.

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Even if it's just coyotes. Any places worth avoiding? No need rustling any feathers if I don't have to."

[Narrator]

"Won't just be coyotes -- there's a fair share of owlhoots who'd prefer the law not have easy access to the Gulch, if you catch my drift. I can't even begin to count how many times they used to rob the stage."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"I reckon that'd be the ones living outside town then. When's the next time the stage is due?"

[Narrator]

"Didn't you say you came in on the stage?" the bartender asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought that'd be a bit early..."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Rode here myself." she says, finishing off her coffee. It's... very rustic. "Well, I better go check in with the sheriff, let them know a stranger'll be poking around. Thanks for the heads-up on things." she adds, putting her hat back on and tipping it at the barkeep. "How much do I owe you?"

[Narrator]

"We're a one-bit saloon, ma'am. Just the one," he nodded.

[Ashlie Minamida]

Ashlie nods and reaches into her duster's pocket to fish out a quarter. "Keep the change."

Her phone had disappeared upon crossing the portal and whatever non-sense Conduit had done transposed it into an aspect of it. A not-so-digital wallet. What will happen to it upon crossing back now that a part of it is missing is anyone's guess but worth sacrificing a phone to find out. She glances around the saloon one last time to make sure she didn't miss an obvious Stanton among the patrons or furniture. She'd swing by the sheriff as a final bit of recon and then head back. Perhaps yell at Conduit remotely, though as much as it begrudges her to admit, the sneaky modifications did help her blend in. What logic they follow is still up for debate, as is the weird specificity of some of it. She'd examined her possessions thoroughly on the way into town and discovered her arm had a semi-hidden lever that could pop out of it and, when turned, arrest the entire arm, bend a little under ninety degrees at the elbow. A safety feature?

Taking in the small town she heads towards the sheriff's office while continuing her musings. Her additional appendages had turned into a gun, which bothers her on some level but perhaps these circumstances make it as much a tool as it is a weapon. Besides, it's not like her arms are completely incapable of doing damage and were translated to a Conduit-brand system. She should probably be grateful half her things didn't turn into sticks of dynamite.

[Narrator]

"An obvious Stanton". Now, there was an oxymoron if there ever was one. Not only had they existed for billions of years as, for all intents and purposes, a rock, the one she knew had managed to convince scientists for nearly half a century that they were an ordinary couch. They weren't looking for a person-turned-davenport, mind you, but 'obvious' wasn't something they did, as a general rule. Oh, maybe there'd be a brand stamped somewhere, or a maker's mark that would tip someone off, but even that was just vanity -- surely, if Will wanted to disappear, Will would disappear. And while certainly Ashlie had something in her lab that she could whip up to serve as a sort of acid test, Castle Gulch did not seem like the center of scientific activity. How on Earth do you find a Stanton who didn't want to be found?

Not that they were hiding, mind you. Presumably, they'd have no idea about Ashlie's appearance, or that of alternate universes or their split selves, so they wouldn't be trying to not be found. Thank heaven for small favors. Still, short of crawling around on hands and knees and checking the underside of all the barstools to make sure there wasn't a STANTON label on them or something, and going out and trying to shakedown all the tumbleweeds... it was a needle in a haystack, only you couldn't be sure what the needle or haystack were. Hrm. Well, asking around was probably a better first step than that, and perhaps something clever would come up.

The sheriff's office -- the center of law in Castle Gulch -- was a one-room shack with one cell, currently empty. It also contained a desk, and a chair, and a man sitting in said chair with his feet on said desk. Perhaps he spoke a different language, one composed entirely of variations on the letter Z. Or perhaps the law in this town was asleep on the job.

[Samantha McManus]

There's a murmur on the street at a sight that Ashlie might assume was about her appearance, though it hadn't garnered much comment on the way to the saloon. The focus is apparently a large figure draped in a dusty woolen poncho, a lock of red hair visible under a dark, wide-brimmed hat.

[Narrator]

They'd been busy when Ashlie had walked through or maybe the general murmuring drew their attention, but unlike most folks who seem happy to keep their distance, two of them seek her out directly. A man and a woman, dressed in plain but surprisingly neat clothes. "Pardon me, sir!" the man says as they hurry towards her. "Oh! Oh I am terribly sorry, miss. You cut quite the imposing figure and I assumed..."

[Samantha McManus]

"Thought I was someone else?" She quirks a brow, managing to hide a little bit of surprise as it comes out a drawl rather than a brogue.

[Narrator]

"S'just most women round here aren't quite build as sturdy." the woman of the two chimes in cheerfully. She seems impressed more than anything. "You must be new in town. I don't come down here as much as I'd like but surely the good lord would have made me notice you if you weren't."

[Ashlie Minamida]

The sheriff's office -- the center of law in Castle Gulch -- was a one-room shack with one cell, currently empty. It also contained a desk, and a chair, and a man sitting in said chair with his feet on said desk. Perhaps he spoke a different language, one composed entirely of variations on the letter Z. Or perhaps the law in this town was asleep on the job.

Ashlie clears her throat and pulls the door closed hard enough to presumably give the man a chance to wake up and at least pretend not to be asleep on the job.

[Narrator]

The man woke up with a start, chair slamming on the ground, followed shortly by his feet.

"What in ter...Ahem.

What can I do for you, ma'am?"

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Just figured I'd give a heads-up. I'll be surveying outside the town and heard you had some not so savory folks circling around out there. I'd rather not have someone spot a stranger doing the same and get shot at while I work. Though perhaps I was concerned for nothin'."

[Narrator]

"Just figured I'd give a heads-up. I'll be surveying outside the town and heard you had some not so savory folks circling around out there. I'd rather not have someone spot a stranger doing the same and get shot at while I work. Though perhaps I was concerned for nothin'."

"Surveyin'? Another gold digger from the East, huh, out to look to make their fortune? Well, I'll tell ya, yer wasting yer time; there ain't no treasure here and there never was, but you go and make yourself happy."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Surveying. That'd mean a prospector already found gold, if that's what I was here for. I'm with the railroad, evaluating a potential line." she says, apparently unable to turn off the teacher or infrastructure developer in her. This town really could use the help. Maybe if she can free up some time to actually see through what she's promising...

[Narrator]

"Well, of course their ain't no gold here! No one'd look for gold in these here parts; you'd go out to California for that. It's a figgur' of speech.

But if you're just here for surveyin' and not for gettin' rich quick, then I'm sure yer be fine."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Thanks. Anyway, I best be going then." she says and steps out of the sheriff's office. Outside it's hard not to notice the large poncho-wearing person with red hair being accosted by two townsfolk and Ashlie makes her way over to who she suspects is Samantha. She hasn't been gone that long, has she?

[Narrator]

While Sam and Ashlie dealt with the inquisitive townsfolk, a stagecoach rolled into town, kicking up a cloud of red dust as it went, four big bays pulling it along. "OVERLAND STAGE" was stenciled in fading gold lettering along the side of the Concord coach, the paint which was probably at one point quite vibrant paled by dust and sun. The roof was piled high with luggage, crates, a few tightly roped bundles, a strongbox, and the like.

The driver had a wide-brimmed hat pulled down over their face as the long drive came to a close. They drove alone, the passenger slot on the box empty except for a double-barrled scattergun sat at the ready -- part of operating the stage was defending it, be it from bandits, Indians or wild animals, as something like this would be a tempting prize for someone looking to get rich quick. The reigns gripped tight, they brought the contraption to a rumbling halt in front of what must be the stage shop. "End o' the line, folks."

The driver hopped down, taking off her hat to reveal a mop of blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail, that almost (but not quite) reached her jeans. Mid-20s, in a frilled vest with a gunbelt tied around her hips, she patted one of the horses affectionatley as she headed around to swing the door open, and letting out the passengers.

The first one out was another mid-20s woman, but not nearly as ready for the frontier as the driver. She wore a traveling gown of deep blue silk, with a feathered hat tipped rakishly on her head as she accepted the driver's assistance getting down off of the stage. She was followed out by a man in his early 30s, decked out in an elegant suit with a crimson vest, a silver-tipped cane helping him keep his balance as he dismounted. The flash of a gold tooth could be seen from a distance as he smiled and stretched. These two were clearly CityFolk, perhaps out here because of the train that ASHLIE had mentioned? Was mentioning it enough to spring it into existence? Or had the context provided by the portal implanted the idea of 'train surveyor' as a valid reason to be here? Questions, for sure.

The third passenger was not cityfolk. Lean, and with skin darkened by the sun, he wore a plain duster coat and a low-brimmed hat. He did not take the driver's hand for assistance as he dismounted from the stage.

[Samantha McManus]

"Lookin' for a friend," she says, casting her eyes out beyond the couple.

"Not ta be rude, but I think I just spotted her."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Oh? Many new faces today. How exciting!" the woman says cheerfully despite being dismissed.

"Ah, Samantha." Ashlie says and almost automatically tips her head. Picking habits up quickly, apparently. "Didn't Will tell you I said I'd be back soon? Suppose it's just as well, saves me a trip back to... camp." she awkwardly shifts into a cover-story as she notices the two people Sam talked to have apparently followed her and, though they're keeping some distance, are clearly in earshot.

[Samantha McManus]

"Will is out of his goddamned mind right now, and couldn't tell me how long you'd been out, just that you went alone."

[Ashlie Minamida]

"Admittedly, I let my curiosity get the better of me and took a little longer than I meant to." she says, watching the passengers disembark from the coach out of the corner of her eye. "But now that you're here we might as well keep looking. No obvious Stanton or green-haired folk around according to the barkeep and the Sheriff seemed more interested in napping and convincing me that there is definitely no substance to the rumors about the treasure of Castle Gulch."

[Narrator]

With Sam engaged in a conversation that seems hard to butt into, the two fine citizens turn their attention to the people that arrived with the coach.

"Friends! Welcome, welcome. I'm sure you're tired from your journey but if you would spare a moment to hear about the Blissful Gospel I'm sure you'll find your weary spirits lifted!"