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Where the Water Tastes Like Wine


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"We finally got the whole gang together and talked over our next move. Patrick had a high opinion of Blackwater, so the choice seemed clear... it's time to hit the road. We split into two groups: the first, led by Greg, was to find a good spot for camp and get it set up, while the second, which included Pat and me, had another task. We were heading straight to Blackwater to stock up on supplies and catch up on the latest news."

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"The road to the river crossing was long but easy. Eventually, Greg, Benny, and the others peeled off to scout for a camp, while Pat and I continued toward Blackwater. But of course, things couldn't be that simple—a sandstorm rolled in outta nowhere. That damned dust got everywhere—our eyes, our mouths, all over our faces. But even through the stinging grit, there was something beautiful about the way the sun fought to break through, trying to light the way into town."

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"Luck was on our side. Despite the wind howling and sand getting into places I'd rather not mention, we made it to Blackwater in one piece. First stop? Miss Nelly's saloon, of course. She greeted us with free drinks, which I reckon was a fine way to welcome a couple of dust-covered drifters. We agreed to keep sending our folks over to play in her saloon, but the bigger plan was to play in the streets and put together a proper show.

Once that was settled, we grabbed the supplies we came for and started back toward camp. Thank the Lord, the sandstorm had finally died down."

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"On the way back, we passed by the cemetery, and a few ideas started brewing about how we could make a little money outside of just playing music. Nothing too outta the ordinary—just the kinda things a bunch of vagrants gotta do to keep their pockets from running dry.

When we finally met up with Greg and Benny, they weren't alone. Two more fellas had joined the mix. First was Jacob Barlow, some Irish loudmouth who works as a saloon bouncer at Miss Nelly's, but acts like he's the damn sheriff of Blackwater. Now, don't get me wrong—I ain't got nothing against Irishmen, seeing as I got Irish blood myself—but this fella got under my skin real quick. He was asking about Bill and Dave, those two trouble-making kids we ran into before. Looks like they've been causing more mischief around town.

The second man was Tom Carpenter. He's from the ranch near our new camp... Not sure if he owns it or just works there, but either way, he heard we were a band and offered us a gig at their upcoming fair. Said we gotta play for him tomorrow so he can decide if we're worth hiring for the real thing.

For now, though, we're finally settled in our new camp. Bout time we got some proper rest."

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"Been a few days now since we set up camp near Blackwater. Figured this place'd be as easygoing as Strawberry, but turns out I was dead wrong. Lot more lawmen poking around, and a hell of a lot more hungry beasts lurking in the woods.

Wolves been getting bolder—slinking into camp at night, jumping outta the brush when we're out hunting. Ain't gonna lie, Greg and I had a couple of close calls while tracking deer and turkeys. Came real near to being turned into wolf chow more times than I'd care to admit. Damn things move like ghosts out here."

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"Met a new fella today—Corey, a damn fine pianist, bout five years younger than me. Says he's heard of us for a while and wants to ride along. Can't say I know if the drifter's life is really cut out for him, but I listened to him play, and hell… boy's got talent.

Meanwhile, Dakota and Liam showed up at our camp. They used to run with Bill and Dave, but looks like some bad blood split em up. Don't reckon they'll be sticking with us long, but for now, Dakota's got a good hand for cooking, and Liam ain't bad with a rifle."

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"Made a trip out to Tom Carpenter's ranch today, but the man himself wasn't around. Instead, we ran into a damn deputy sheriff for the first time—fella sniffing around about Bill and Dave.

Seems that loudmouth Irishman's been running his mouth, telling folks those kids been riding with us this whole time—like we're some kind of guardians to em. Load of nonsense, but now it's got the law looking our way.

Liam didn't do himself any favors, acting all shifty while talking to the deputy. Feels like there's too many secrets floating around, and the last thing we need is trouble knocking at our door. Might need to make some hard decisions bout that boy real soon."

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