Where the Water Tastes Like Wine

[kufaz]

 

[Free-N-Easy]

"I woke up feeling like a bear crawling outta winter's sleep—bones sore, head foggy, but at least I wasn't behind bars anymore. Jail never did make for a restful night. Our new camp's a fine spot, but too many travelers stop by to share the fire. That ain't a bad thing, but we gotta be careful—last thing we need is more trouble knocking at our door.

Ab made his way back, looking real apologetic, saying the whole shootout wouldn't have happened if it weren't for the fuss over his skin color. I told him that was nonsense—what's done is done, and he's got a place here if he wants it. Turns out, he's got a voice on him too, deep and gospel-like. Ain't what we're used to, but hell, that's something we can work with.

Another fella showed up at camp, going by the name Stubby. Strange sort—asked if he could grow cotton on our land. Said he'd pay for the right in cannabis seeds. Can't say I ever met a man willing to trade one crop for another like that, but he seemed harmless enough. The boys didn't mind, so long as he kept to himself. He don't look like the kind to stick with one crowd for too long—seems like the type that drifts from group to group, just riding the wind wherever it takes him."

"Dory… Darcy… Derry? Hell, she's so tangled up in names I don't think she even knows which one's real anymore. Anyway, she figured she needed some new clothes, something clean after all the blood, vomit, and dirt she's been wearing. Fair enough. I planned to ride into Blackwater anyhow—needed to track down Madam Myra and Mayor Prescott. Myra offered us a gig at her place, and the mayor's putting together a county fair. Seemed like the kind of thing we oughta be part of.

At the tailor's, though, she up and asks for five whole dollars for a dress. Five! Damn near laughed in her face—told her to pick something a helluva lot cheaper. The girl might be new to this kind of life, but it's like she's got no sense of the world around her. Maybe she came from money? Would explain a few things… but right now, ain't my business."

"Didn't have much luck in town—couldn't find neither Madam Myra nor the mayor, so we stopped in at Miss Nelly's saloon. She said she'd put in a good word for us with the mayor since he's a regular. Played a few songs for the crowd, then took a walk to clear my head.

That's when I ran into a Creole fella with a cart selling sweet tea—Dominique Thibodeaux. Damn near made my heart ache, hearing that old accent again. Oui, mozjeu… It's been too long. Funny how you don't realize you're forgetting your roots til something reminds you. I needed it.

Ended up renting a cot at one of the hostels. Think I'll stay the night, get some real rest, and spend tomorrow sorting out the band's business in town."

[kufaz]

[Free-N-Easy]

"Spending the night in Blackwater wasn't exactly restful—too much noise, too many voices, too many drunken fools hollering outside my window. I'd take the lull of crickets and the whisper of the woods over this racket any day. But what's done is done. Spent most of the day scribbling out new ballads, only stepping out come evening.

I wandered through the lamplit streets, watching as the lanterns flickered like trapped stars, their light struggling to escape the iron cages that held em. The night was alive in a way the wilderness never was—full of sharp laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shadow slipping out of sight. Eventually, I ran into Greg, and we made our way to Althewaye Inn to see Madam Myra. She remembered us well enough and confirmed her offer still stood—$2.25 a night for performances. Seemed fair to me. Soon as we earn it, we'll drink it away anyhow. Ain't no sense worrying over things that always come round again.

After settling that business, Madam Myra treated us to the finest damn rabbit stew I'd had in months. Greg and I took a table and spoke over dinner, mostly about our plans—particularly the matter of paying off our fine. Our talk was cut short by the arrival of Miss Nelly, who joined us for a bit of conversation. The topic of roots came up, and I mentioned my recent run-in with Dominique Thibodeaux. Turns out she ain't too fond of the man—seems he had the nerve to advertise his little tea business right on her saloon porch. Funny how folks around here will go to war over a sliver of space, fighting over dirt and planks like it's the last patch of land on Earth."

"Once we finished up at the inn, Greg and I set out to retrieve our stash. We got a habit of burying our funds outside of camp—safer that way. Ain't nothing worse than some low-down thief running off with the band's hard-earned money. We don't have much, but what we got, we protect.

The lone tree out on the plains wasn't hard to find. We dug up the chest, pulled out the fifty dollars we needed, then buried it somewhere new. One day, someone might stumble across one of our old hiding spots, but by then, we'll be long gone, making music in another town."

"Sheriff Cobb looked mighty surprised to see me stroll into his office with the money in hand. I'd wager he didn't think we'd scrape it together so fast—maybe he figured we'd cut and run, or end up buried in some shallow grave before we could pay our dues. But we ain't fools. We know how to survive, how to play the game. The fine's settled, our heads are held high, and now there's nothing left but to get back to what we do best—playing, drinking and moving on before the dust settles."

"Before heading back to camp, I stopped by the mayor's office, hoping to finally get a word in about the fair. No mayor in sight, but sitting at the desk was Arabella—the girl from the saloon, the same one Lenny and Benny had been pestering the other night. The second she saw me, she stiffened up some, like she wasn't sure whether to be nervous or just plain annoyed. Can't say I blame her.

She scribbled my name down, said she'd schedule a meeting with the mayor soon. I thanked her, but she barely met my eyes. Seems she ain't too keen on seeing any of us again anytime soon. Those two idiots sure know how to make a lasting impression."

[kufaz]

[kufaz]

 

[driponip]

On 16/01/2025 at 10:31, Free-N-Easy said:

Lenny Boyd was born in the slums of Saint Denis, in a home weighed down by hardship and shattered ambitions. His father, a man who once brimmed with dreams, lost himself to gambling, squandering every last cent at the card table. Each loss dragged him further into trouble, and soon, into the grip of alcoholism. His mother, more pragmatic, peddled trinkets to keep food on the table, but the strain of keeping their family afloat was relentless. As his father's temper flared and his debts mounted, the household grew more unstable—until one day, after one loss too many, he took his own life.

Growing up in the shadow of his father's failures, Lenny became a defiant and impulsive teenager, always looking for a way to prove himself. Trouble seemed to follow wherever he went, whether through street brawls, reckless gambling, or petty theft. Yet, no matter how deep he found himself in a mess, he had an uncanny way of scrambling out of it, laughing as if it was all just another hand of cards. He inherited his father's love for gambling but lacked the self-control to ever walk away while he was ahead. Though luck was never on his side for long, he never stopped chasing the next big win.

Lenny's reckless nature made him an unlikely fit for a group of musicians, but in The Vagrant Band, he found something close to a home. Alongside Benny Lloyd, he worked as both an enforcer and a barker, drawing crowds before performances. Their constant bickering and occasional brawls became part of the band's charm, adding to the chaotic energy of their shows. Though he never picked up an instrument, his gambler's charm and quick fists made sure the band stayed in business—one way or another.

 

 

 

[driponip]

 

[driponip]

 

[Free-N-Easy]

"Before riding out to Blackwater, Greg and I figured we'd try our luck hunting. Brought back a good haul, only to find Benny snoozing away like a babe in a cradle. Couldn't resist giving him a scare—Greg put on his best lawman voice, told him he was under arrest. Funny thing is, we never stopped to think what'd happen if Benny woke up trigger-happy. Lucky for us, he ain't the shoot-first kind.

We set up by the fire, soon joined by Lenny and Craig. The whiskey came out, the fresh venison got cooked, and Lenny—well, he got to talking more than usual. Told a story bout his old man, a gambler through and through, never won a damn thing his whole life. Except once. One big win. Course, by the end of that same day, he’d lost it all... Got me thinking—what’s Lenny's fate gonna be? He says luck's gonna turn in his favor one day, but I ain't so sure. He's chasing the same fool's dream his old man did. Then again, we all got our vices. Mine's whiskey. Benny's too. Greg ain't no stranger to a bottle either. Lenny and Craig got their cards and dice. Guess we're all just wandering through this life, holding onto whatever keeps us going. Hell, at least we got each other. Ain't much, but it's something."

"Ain't nothing like a belly full of whiskey to make a man feel invincible. Despite most of the gang barely sitting straight, we figured it was as good a time as any to ride into town and find the mayor. After all, the county fair's tomorrow, and we still hadn't secured our place in it. Ab caught up with us along the way, and I reckon we made quite the sight—half-drunk musicians and a man most folk in Blackwater wouldn't even let through their front doors. Sure enough, we caught some side-eyes, but we didn't give a damn. Abdoul's with us, and that means he's Vagrant Band through and through.

Lenny, for once, decided to clean himself up proper—dusted off his best damn suit, slicked back his hair, and strutted in like he was some high-rolling showman outta Saint Denis. Reckon he figured if we looked respectable, the mayor'd be more inclined to let us play. Can't say it worked, but hell, at least he tried. Prescott listened to our pitch, and I could see that glint in his eye—man was thinking about his cut before we even struck the first chord. He was clearly hoping we'd grease his palms for a good spot, but soon as he got a real good look at us, I swear I saw the exact moment he realized we ain't the paying type. Instead, he played it off, saying we could set up for free if we played all night long. Like we weren't already planning on doing just that.

Still, fair's fair—we got our spot, and I got a good feeling about this. A full night's worth of music, a lively crowd, and plenty of pockets just waiting to be lightened. And between Lenny's knife-throwing, Benny's near-death experiences, and whatever tricks we got up our sleeves, I reckon by the end of it all, the mayor himself'll be slipping us a few dollars just to keep us around. Greedy bastard won't be able to help himself."

[Been restored]

Nice 

[Steve_Huys]

[Steve_Huys]

[driponip]

 

[Free-N-Easy]

"Well, I'll be damned—we finally got our chance to play at the West Elisabeth County Fair, and let me tell you, we gave em a show they won't be forgetting anytime soon. Music rang out clear through the fairgrounds, our tunes rolling like a river that just wouldn't stop. Folks were clapping, stomping and dancing along, and for the first time, I figured we had something real special here.

Decided to give Abdoul his shot at a performance, and hell, he knocked it outta the park. Wasn't sure how the good folks of Blackwater would take to it, but I'll admit—this town's a sight more progressive than I figured. Not only did he belt out a damn fine tune, but the boy's got a knack for drawing in a crowd. Between singing and working the crowd for tips, he ended up bringing in a fair bit of coin. By the time we wrapped up, we had ourselves twenty dollars, maybe more. Course, most of it wound up on the blackjack table by night's end—but that's just the way things go, ain't it? Still, I made sure to tuck away a share for the band's needs. Ain't no sense in running dry when we got places to go.

Still got a couple more shows lined up—especially the circus act with Lenny and Benny, which we couldn't pull off at the fair on account of not having the right setup for their "tricks". Once we play those out, it's time to hit the road. New Austin's calling, and first stop's looking to be Thieves Landing. Can't say I've heard much good about the place, but hell, when's that ever stopped us before?"