Chapter 1

Narrator:

Some men enjoyed huntin', others liked a good card game, not so Sherriff Harris Owens . If he had his druthers, he'd spend his days apprehending train robbers, or bank robbers, or stagecoach robbers for that matter. Anything that resulted in a horse chase in an effort to catch a bad guy was a damn good time.

It made a man feel like a man.

Which made days like today so damn depressing.

Damn depressing, indeed. You see today Sheriff Owens missed the pesky train robbin' varmints only to be left with, well, nothin’.

Harris allowed a sigh and released the door to the empty safe. “These guys were pros,” he muttered to himself. Professionals with fancy new technology. The safe had employed a fibercast jigiron heart lock, but that security device had been blown open by some sort of incendiary squib. Harris had never seen one able to power open a lock while doing such little damage to its surroundings.

The only thing Harris knew for sure was that the robbers got on the train at one of its stops, tied up the guard, took the gold bullion from the safe, and got off the train before the theft was discovered by train employees at this stop. He used a commonsense guess to ascertain the events because no one had seen a damn thing.

No mean looking hombres in bandannas, except for the two cowboys headed to Vergina City, Nev'adda for a bit of fun before starting new jobs at the Curly C Ranch in Washliper Valley. No gun wielding thieves, except for the three businessmen on their way home from a conference in Sang Frensighsco. No demands of jewelry and cash from the passengers except from a young woman wondering why her beau hadn’t yet given her a wedding ring and a young boy asking his beleaguered mother for a penny for candy. To top it off, there had not been a single unscheduled train stop.

The safe had been full and locked at the last depot and now at the Vergina City depot it was empty, and the guard incapacitated. It stood to reason that the robbers got on and off the train with no fanfare or posturing. Just regular train passengers going about their regular lives.

One of his deputies entered the car carrying a large knife and he went right to the still unconscious and roped up guard slumped in the corner. The robbers used a thin, easy to carry, easy to conceal rope to tie up the guard. Harris assumed they used etherium to knock him out because the man showed no signs of bodily force and he was sleeping, trussed up in the corner, like a happy baby. That is until Harris saw an empty metal canister in the corner. He picked it up and sighed again. Nope, no etherium involved.

"I can't make sense of any of it, Sheriff,” another of his deputies said from the doorway. “There was a lot of commotion in the passenger cars. Crying babies, arguing women, drunk teens, and something about a kid with a couple of loose chickens. No one saw anything unusual.”

Harris nodded. Yep, these guys were professionals. “Keep on it, Ted. Find out everything the passengers remember about the ride no matter how insignificant. Smells, sounds, colors, people, it might prove useful later on.”

The sky outside the train car was a bright blue without a single cloud and the air pulled in dry and sage tinged. Harris took a deep breath. Sage filled air was one of the many things he loved about living in the high desert of Nev’adda. The wide-open spaces were another. But, after a rare rainstorm hit, (which hadn’t happened in a while) well the world was lush with the rich aroma of sage. Today, the sun was bright and clear, no signs of rain, and Harris put on his eyeshades to protect against the intense rays.

His foot had barely hit the platform when he saw the well-dressed Easterner waiting for him. He’d met the senator a few days ago when the man had first rolled into town in a plush personal locomotive car. Senator Sterling Worth was well known in these parts as the man trying to push law and order in lawless territories while doing his best to hold railroad and mining companies to a standard of ethics. He used bold words and bold tactics to get his points across and his mandates enacted.

Harris didn’t trust him. Nine times outta ten do-gooders had a hidden agenda and Harris would bet the good senator sided with nine more times than not. The man was here to investigate the mines, but Harris couldn’t help feeling that there was something else brewing with the senator and he couldn’t help feeling that he was involuntarily involved. Nothing set in stone, just a hunch, and Harris always followed his gut.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” Senator Worth greeted. “It looks like you’ve had quite a day already.”

Harris nodded his greeting. "Senator."

"Sheriff, I'd like you to meet Jagx Ransom. Mr. Ransom needs your help in a matter of national security.”

See, involuntarily involved.

Do-gooders always wanted you to do things for them for “the good of mankind” and all that claptrap. Nothing for it now but shake the kid’s (yeah, kid. He couldn’t be more than 12...24 tops) hand and find out what national problems could be so all-fired important that they required his help.

Fortunately, the kid’s handshake was firm and direct, and he didn’t flounce about with false flattery and pithy greetings, which raised him slightly in Harris’ estimation.

“Now if you will excuse me, I’ll rejoin my entourage,” Senator Worth indicated a quartet of businessmen, two guards, and a single reporter. “I’m touring a few of the mines today. Any advice, sheriff?”

“Yeah, don’t cry when your shiny shoes get dirty.”

Worth smiled. “I think I can manage.”

“So, what are you, kid, a government agent?” Harris asked as the senator walked away.

"We're not affiliated with the government, sir. I work for an independent group tasked with testing and safeguarding private and sometimes governmental interests."

“Like Plinkertron agents?”

Ransom chuckled. “I assure you we are nothing like Plinkertron agents.”

Harris started walking. Ransom fell into step with him. “You’re not affiliated with the government, yet you sometimes safeguard government interests and you have a senator vouching for you. Care to explain?”

“We’re good at what we do.”

With a flick of his wrist Harris tossed him the empty canister. "I found this in the safe car. What does that look like to you?"

“Smoke bomb.”

“You ever see one like that before?"

When no response was forthcoming Harris pressed with, "Or how about an explosive squib able to destroy a fibercast jigiron heart lock but not damage anything else?”

Ransom remained silent.

Harris stopped walking and faced the kid. "You know who robbed that train?"

"I have agents on it."

Harris shook his head and gave a tight smile. Sure, a non-government agent tasked with safeguarding government interest just happened to show up immediately after a government shipment was stolen from a train, with no sign of force, the use of sparkly new technology, and with no one on the train being the wiser. "This is your jurisdiction now?"

"No sir. I’m here because we believe the Ralston Gang is on their way to Vergina City. We’ll need your help to apprehend them. We have agents in place who will in no way impede your authority, but we need your help."

The Ralston Gang was bad news. Thieving and murdering were the nice things the gang did. Led by Barrett Ralston, the gang started out as a bunch of Yew Nork City street thugs, they’d made their money through coercion, blackmail, and outright stealing. Recently, Ralston had decided to move into the interstellar Clopium trade and he was eagerly doing business with the rising Sang Frensighsco street gangs. The last thing Harris wanted was for Ralston and his crew taking up residency in his county. "What do you need?"

"One of my agents will contact you when they require cooperation, sheriff and I’ll keep you updated as to the gangs movements.”