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Valentine been sittin’ in my gaze for a while now. Place got that smell of fake smiles and cheap whiskey - pretty enough till you scratch it, then it bleeds lawmen. I rode in quiet, lookin’ for Joseph, thought maybe he’d still be breathin’ somewhere between the gallows and the grave. No luck. Just new faces wearin’ old sins. Headed for the saloon, Messican gal sittin’ in the bar, and a man I hadn’t laid eyes on since the rails ran red - Chase Mercer. Called himself somethin’ else now, but I know a ghost when I see one. Ain' recognize him at first, but he pulled me aside and made me remember. We talked, about old an' new - though I didn't wan' tell everything that'd happened with Rob an' Gunnar just yet. So I decided to have a little fun. Slid up to the bar, ordered about everythin' I could think of, left my coin sittin’ somewhere it wasn’t, and when the barkeep came askin’ for payment I just nodded toward Chase. “That fella’ll cover it.” Then? I made my way out that saloon' quicker than I did runnin' lawmen up from the shot-up train, few nights ago. Heh. I wasn’t runnin’ tabs — I was testin’ the old Chase I knew. Wanted to see what kind of man he’d turned into. Would he laugh and play along? Would he rat? Every outlaw worth his salt knows: loyalty ain’t tested by gunfire, it’s tested by lies told in daylight. Turns out, ol’ Chase blinked. Told the truth. Ratted me out, right there, tryin’ to keep his hands clean in a dirty town. Can’t say I blamed him - I was baitin’ him hard.  Law didn’t take kindly to the game. Chase, crooked fool, tried runnin' off - ended up in the cell for the night. Me on the other hand? I was long gone.. till I decided next mornin' on coming back. Hell, I was just tryin' see what had happened to good ol' Chase! One thing led to another, and before I knew it I had a badge barkin’ orders and a cell key jinglin’. Figured maybe I pushed too far this time. Then Chase showed. Paid what needed payin’, said what needed sayin’, and got me loose again. Didn’t have to - which told me more than any test could. Maybe he failed the first one, but he passed the second where it counted. We talked after that, just the two of us, out by the edge of town. Clara had found her way there too, hangover hangin’ off her like perfume. She an' Chase weren't exactly good colleagues, but she'd informed him of the train-job: Rob dead, Gunnar gone, Mexicans vanished with half the gold. Nothin’ left but ghosts and grit.  Me an' Chase got together, found some trust, an' figured we'd best start gettin' back to work. Two men down, one man up. Ain't no stoppin' us now - never was.

Saint Denis Times Tribune: "Shining the truth and the light since 1832" This forum thread will serve as the archive of the Saint Denis Times Tribune newspaper. This is where you'll find the latest stories taking place in the state of Tahoma. 

To Rhodes I went, rode down there lookin’ for Joseph, but the trail ran dry soon as I hit town. Folks got that way ‘round me; talkin’ less, starin’ more. Guess they got a thing for outsiders. So I turned back east, rain bitin’ cold, thinkin’ maybe Van Horn’d still got folks that knew my name. When I stepped in the saloon, it smelled like wet wood, bad whiskey, and worse memories. I took a seat in front of the fireplace - same one I always do - where a man can see the door and still keep his back to somethin’ solid.   Didn’t take long before trouble found me, though not the kind I expected. Doors swung open and there she was - Clara. Drunk, stumbling, like sorrow itself was some kinda joke. Dropped right there on the damn floor. She kept mumblin’ nonsense, as I was tryin' to tell I had been to Rhodes. Said nothin’ that made sense ‘til she looked up and said one word that froze me dead still, “Joseph.” And speak o’ the devil - in he walks. Could feel the blood rise soon as I saw him. “Where the hell you been, huh?” I snapped before thinkin’. “I thought you was gone!" Guess I wasn’t mad at him, so much as the world. But Joseph just stood there, hat in hand, starin’ at me like he'd never seen me before. I told him straight up, no cover: "Rob’s dead. Gunnar too. Mexicans took their cut and ran. Whole job turned into blood and thunder. Only Clara’s left breathin’." We spoke between us, some yellin' back and forth but nothin' I didn't expect. Ended up ridin' north to where she hid it, just the three of us. She dug up the crate herself - mud, rain, and them ugly yellow bars starin’ up at us like teeth. Government stamped. Heavy as sin. I stood there a long while, watchin’ the light hit that gold. Thought about Rob, Gunnar... Hell, all the fools who thought we could make somethin’ better outta this world. Then I said it. Didn’t plan to - it just came out like a promise I already knew’d damn me: “I ain’t lettin’ thems lives be for nothin’. We’re hittin’ that score, big time.” Joseph didn’t argue. Clara just looked at me with eyes gone glassy. Guess they both knew there wasn’t no turnin’ back once I said it. But gold ain’t worth nothin’ if you can’t move it. And sellin’ government bars? That’s like beggin' for the noose. We’d need a fence. A good one. Someone who could get this gold out'a our hands. Days later I found myself walkin’ the docks in Van Horn, moon high and rain mean. That’s when I saw it - old warehouse, sign faded to nothin’: "Wholesale & Retail." Locals said it used to be a shopkeep before the law shut it down. Inside smelled of salt, rot, and history. Dust thick enough to choke on. I ran my hand ‘cross the counter and felt somethin’ I hadn’t in a long while - purpose. Could see it clear as day. Stolen goods in, clean money out. My place, my rules. Hell, maybe this was what I’d been ridin’ towards all along. Rob’s gone, Gunnar too. But their spirit ain’t. And if I can keep this place breathin’, maybe the legend won't die with ‘em.   I ain’t much for prayin’, but I figure if I’m gonna sin, might as well build a church for it.  

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Ain’t much glory left in this life, cher - just dead friends, gunpowder smoke, and gold that don’t ever shine for long enough. We were supposed to hit a train. Westbound, carryin’ government gold, more money than a man like me oughta dream about. Some man Robert had met, that Mexican, stitched this whole thing. The plan sounded clean enough - the Mexican had a lead on the train and it's shiny contents. Friend of his was ridin’ with him; Robert, Gunnar and Clara too. Me? I shoulda known better. Rob told me Joseph was down in Rhodes, workin’ a side job - somethin’ dirty, kidnappin’ a whore tied up with the law. Claimed she had it comin’. Maybe she did. Maybe none of us got room to judge.  We caught sight of the train, ridin’ west. Storm rollin’ in, thunder crawlin’ down the sky. My girl - sweet thing, loyal but old bones - caught her hoof in a slide of rocks, out in the oil fields. Nearly broke her ankle right then and there. By the time I pulled her free, the rest was gone. All I had left was the rain, and the echo of iron wheels hummin’ outta reach. So, I followed the tracks. West, an' further west. Found myself holed up in an old waterin’ station - them rusted towers where the locomotives drink out of. Sat out the storm there, listenin’ to the rain tap the tin roof like a bad memory. I figured maybe fate done me a favor leavin’ me behind. Time passed, and it got me thinking; I rode into Valentine, lookin’ for word. Found it, too - just not how I expected. Whole town’s hummin’ with gossip. The lawmen’s wives gatherin’ on the saloon, sayin’ their husbands were guardin’ a gold train. I sat with ‘em, playin’ dumb, askin’ the kind of questions a man like me can hide behind a grin. Didn’t take long ‘fore a fella came ridin’ in, screamin’ for help. Said the train came back - and it was red all over. Cart full of blood-soaked an' lead-filled badges. So there I was - helpin’ the same lawmen I’d been fixin’ to kill, most likely. Stitchin’ up bullet holes, draggin’ bodies from the cars. Ain’t irony a cruel son of a bitch? I told ‘em to rest up, get strong again. Said there’s plenty more highwaymen out there need shootin’. They didn’t catch the mockin’ in my voice. Guess pain makes you deaf to truth. When I made it back to Van Horn, only Clara was left. She looked like she’d seen Hell, and maybe she had. Rob’s dead. Gunnar too. The rest? Gone, scattered like smoke in the wind. Those bastards took most the share, blood-money I called it. Least they could've done is leave it with Rob and Gunnar - but who am I kiddin', I'd take it for myself too had it been them greasers layin' there. Funny thing, though. I missed the heist, but I still feel robbed. Now I sit by the docks of Van Horn, watchin’ the river flow. It's quiet tonight - just the waves, the fire, and the ghosts that ain't got buried yet. I'll miss them bastards.

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October 20th, 1884 Cards of Fortune Ran into a gypsy camp today, and I don't know what made me stop... but I was drawn by the fire, the music and the mysterious woman that sat there. She never gave me her name, but she had a look in her eye that I was probably not the first or the last of my kind she'd seen. She was selling wares and reading fortunes, even breaking horses. I still don't know why I stopped, but I wanted to hear what the stupid cards say about my fortune, even if I never believed in them. Maybe I was looking for a sign. She asked for two dollars, but all I had in my pocket was one dollar, and she accepted it as a payment. I offered my pocket watch anyway... well, not really mine.. But she refused, said it's worth too much to trade, and I found it funny how she valued it better than me, who was carryin' it.. The cards revealed a hard road ahead, and then more conflict with no peace in sight, and then... victory if I fight through it all. Then came the last card that revealed I am my worst enemy, the biggest obstacle in the road ahead. I reckon she was right, even if I still refused to believe the cards.. been wrestlin' that devil long enough... Then the last card came. The Hanged Man. She told me don't let the name fool you, but I admit.. it unsettled me. But she said it meant sacrifice, that I'd have to give up somethin' to keep goin'.. I looked at my gunbelt when she said that, and thought about the things I've already lost, and what's left that still weighs me down, that I still can lose... I asked her if a man could change his fate, and she said of course you can, and that I didn't need the cards to really know that. She sounded very hopeful and I... believed her. She reminded me that a man always has a choice, one that I might not have yet seen. When it was done, I still left her the pocket watch anyway. Told her it was payment for her words, and a reminder for myself that when the time comes, I will remember this moment to pick the right choice. She tried refusin' it, but I insisted, the watch meant little to me anyway... I didn't wanna carry that damn watch anymore, and maybe I just needed to convince myself that not every trade in this world has to be made in blood. I walked away from the camp afterwards, with a lot of thoughts in mind, but I am feeling hopeful... maybe a day will come when her words will be true. Maybe a day will come when I make my own luck. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

October 19th, 1884 Crossroads Been a long rainy day at Van Horn, met even more old faces.. guess Robert wasn't lyin' when he said they still live. Elijah, as charming as ever, and Clara the quite opposite of Elijah, the silent type. We were all gathered at the dockside and later got joined by a woman called Jane. Robert knows her, but me? Not so much yet.  After the rain, we all holed up inside Old Light Saloon. elijah rummaged behind the counter like usual, looking for anything worth drinking, while Jane cursed at anyone who ever crossed her path, Clara didn't say much like usual and Robert enjoyed his gin. I guess some things never really change. I watched it all, listening, wondering if this life got anything left in it for us besides waiting for the next "big one" as Robert always says. But truth to be told? All I was truly thinking about is how I'll feed myself tonight. I mentioned honest work again, find a ranch and earn an honest living, Elijah thought we're better off gambling, and Jane said even better, cheat at it. Clara just sat there looking at us, but I could feel her judging us. Judging me. I finally got to meet that Messican that Robert kept talkin' about... he reminds me a lot of Robert. Man of few words and big dreams. No wonder the two got along, but deep inside I still don't trust him, but I trust Robert. He always looked after us, and this has to be good for us. This back and forth kept going at the saloon after that Messican left, the usual kind of fool's hope I guess.. then Elijah retired for the night, Robert gave him few bills to eat, and I was ready to head out, back to Lucile's place in search of my forgotten repeater. Clara said she'd ride with me, and who could blame her? Just about any excuse to get out of this miserable town. We rode to Lucile's place, but no one was home. Valentine was next, but no hope either. So Clara decided to spend the night there, while I gambled some of my money away. Hours passed an' I was ready to hit the hay when I ran into Lucile herself, carryin' a backpack nearly as big as her. She talked about the mountains, injured folks, big men with hairy feet. I wasn't sure which one of us was drunk for a moment, but she looked tired enough to know that at least somethin' happened. She told me she had my repeater.. funny how fate works sometimes... She invited me to ride back home with her along with a man named Cian Murphy and a young woman called Rinlei. I remembered Cian's name. The same name the Marshal gave me the other day to seek work at Hill Haven Ranch. Both Cian and Renly also came back from the mountains and they were worn from whatever hell they'd been through up in those mountain. They indeed offered me honest work, said they could use more hands and for once.. I felt like this is a road worth walking. Lucile, generous and hospitable like always invited us for dinner, roast chicken, and warmth. I didn't know what I had been missing till this moment. She even showed me the pocket watch I gave her, and that meant more to me than my repeater for some reason. Funny.. We all talked over dinner, I loved hearing their stories about the mountains and the dangerous drive back, thanks to Sheriff Holloway they said. Life felt good for a fleeting moment, and I almost forgot what kind of a man I've been trying not to be. Then I left her place with a full belly and a happy smile. Said my goodbyes to Cian and Rinlei as well, but somethin' tells me I'll be seeing them again soon enough. Maybe workin' cattle ain't as bad as Robert makes it sound, but who knows what tomorrow has in store for us? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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October 17th, 1884 Ashes of the Past I ran into Robert again today... and here I thought he was long dead. It was like I saw a ghost, one that I never wished to see ever again. That bastard still lives.. Elijah too, holed up somewhere by the docks. I can't deny that feeling when I heard their names, it's like my stomach went cold, but I guess the past can never stay buried, no matter how far we run from it. Despite what we've been through, Robert never changed.. still speaking of yet another job.. yet another score, a big one he says. I tried tellin' him we're lucky to be alive, that we gotta stay clean, but he just laughed at me and said freedom takes money, like he always does. He said the law is weak, he said the old gang still lives.  And God help me, I almost believed him. We went for a ride after that and came across a destroyed wagon by the road, and a woman almost dead bleeding next to it. She was stabbed. I wanted to help her, but Robert wanted to rob her. And I guess we both got what we wanted in the end. Robert took her money and her gun, then we hauled her to town. I thought that still counts as good. I mean it does, right? But then.. when we neared Valentine, Robert stabbed her again, just to make sure she wouldn't talk. He didn't even flinch... but I did. I can't tell anymore what's weighin' me down like this. Is it guilt? Or just exhaustion? Grave robbin' don't stir me like it used to. I guess I've gotten too used to takin' from the dead, after all they don't fight back, they don't scream or bleed.. they don't haunt you the same way the living do. But watchin' what Robert did today.. it reminded me of how close i still am to the man I swore I'd bury in Texas. After all of this, he still talks about the big job, the old crew, one more chance to die on our own terms. But me? I lit a cigarette and took the money, ready to spend it for a drink, a meal, and a night at the saloon. Maybe redemption ain't waitin' for me now more.. maybe the lost never really find their way back. Maybe Lucile was wrong. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------