Official Doomtown Fiction: 'Behind the Stick'

My third official Doomtown story, Behind the Stick

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The dimly lit tables of Cooke’s Nightcap were sparsely populated as Forster Cooke stood behind the bar, surveying everything. Across the room, Asakichi wiped down the tables, and he gave her a big smile when she looked his direction. He was still smiling when he turned to the door and saw her standing there. He rubbed his eyes at first, momentarily failing to recognize Samantha. Her hair was wild from riding, a pistol holstered at her hip. She strode right to the bar and sat down before him.

“Samantha?” Forster said. Her hair and eyes reminded him painfully of her mother.

“It’s Sammy now, you know that.” The strength in her voice filled him with pride.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to knock some sense into yer thick skull. You followed me here, didn’t you?”

“It’s not like that.” Forster reached out gently toward her.

She pulled away quickly. “Like hell it ain’t. If you think begging’s gonna get me to come back, you’ve got another thing comin’. I’m with Sloane now.”

“Samantha, you’ll always be my daughter. Your sister and I –”

“She ain’t my sister,” Sammy snapped, her eyes darting across the room to Asakichi with a glare sharper than a knife.

Forster looked between his two girls in despair.

Sammy snapped her fingers sharply, speaking up so half the saloon could hear. “Gomorra is Sloane’s town. You stay here, I can’t protect you, and I know you think you can, but you can’t protect me either.”

A man sat down beside Sammy, so quiet he could’ve been a ghost. “Good to see you again Sammy,” said T’ou Chi Chow, tenting his hands on the bar.

Sammy looked between Chow and her father, and then swore under her breath. “I shoulda known you’d end up out here, Chow. Gomorra’s only a slight step up from the Armpit. But you oughta know better than to drag my father along with you!”

Chow smiled, his calm demeanor unphased. “All wise men have wiser allies. Your father is a man of many talents.”

Forster leaned over the bar, his brow furrowed. “Mr. Chow is doing important work here. It was my decision to come with.”

Sammy turned back to her father. “Important work that’ll get you killed. Take my warning … you won’t get another one.”

Forster looked down at her and sighed. “I may be an old barkeep. But no one, not Sloane or the Mayor himself, can stop me from keepin’ my girls safe. Ain’t nothing gonna convince me otherwise.”

Sammy looked back at her father’s weathered features and nodded. She leaned in, just a few inches, but the intimacy meant the world to Forster. “I know, Daddy,” she whispered as she stood. “Just be careful.” Forster watched her leave, right up until the door stopped swinging.

The Bandit King smiled, tilting from side to side. “Daughters … bandit hordes … I don’t know which one is harder to manage.”

Forster nodded as he poured another whiskey for his friend.

Official Doomtown Fiction: Double or Nuthin'.

My second official Doomtown story, Double or Nuthin'

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Rico’s hands flashed the cards across the table so quick they were a blur, and then slapped one of his powerful hands down on the table loud enough to make everyone jump.

“And that was when I realized that I might be in some real trouble.” Rico continued the story that had taken four hands to build, loud enough to grab the whole saloon’s attention. He pointed a finger into Charlie’s face and flipped over the first of his dealer cards.

“Now I knew being lost in the Maze was bad enough, but now that I’d lost my horse, I knew I was in for a time of it. Lady Luck, that fickle mistress, was scowling down on me, let me tell you.”

Grant and Morley glanced down at their cards briefly, before Rico’s arms spread wide, as if to encompass the whole room, and gave a hoot.

“That’s when I saw it! Maze Dragon … biggest one I ever seen. Coming right at me outta the blue.”

The dealer’s cards came up, and with a flourish, Rico was tugging in winnings from all three players at the table.

“Bad luck gentlemen. You know what they say, ‘Next time lucky.’ How about another round? Now where was I?”

Grant looked down at his swiftly dwindling pile of chips and opened his mouth to speak, when Rico tossed him another hand and a winning smile.

“That’s right! It was all thanks to the information I’d found when I was exploring the old Knot Mine that gave me the advantage I needed to outwit that big overgrown skink, and so it was that I developed a cunning plan that would lead me safely out of his clutches, and get me the gold after all.”

“Wait, where did the gold come from again?” Charlie said, looking up from his cards, failing to keep up with the story and focus on his hand at the same time. Rico waved the question away with a flourish of deft hands and dealt out the last card.

“Whole ‘nother story; we’ll come around to that later, don’t you worry yer pretty little head about it. So anyway, the dragon bears down on me, and I can feel his breath right on my face, he’s so close.”

Glancing across the cards on the table, Rico clapped his hands together and gave a deep sigh.

“Well gentlemen looks like the fickle mistress is on my side tonight, don’t it?” He leaned forward to scoop up his opponents’ last surviving chips.

“Wai– … wait. What happened with the dragon?” Morley asked, missing the flush he could have had with the right discard.

Rico looked up, a wide smile on his face.

“Then allow me to continue, of course. Everybody loves a good story. In the meantime, shall we say, double or nuthin’?”

Official Doomtown Fiction: 'For What Ails You'.

The first of my official Doomtown Fiction stories, For What Ails You

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You there, sir! Yes, you! You have a worried look about you. What could possibly be troubling you, my good man? Come, come, over here now. Don’t let the crowd fool you. This ain’t a revival, just good ol’ fashioned wonders.

See you got a spot of boils there. Bad news, that is … been seeing it all day.

How many kids do you have, eh? Three? Hand to heart, it’s nearly impossible to keep those little ‘uns safe. Must be making your hair fall out … but we’ll get to that in a moment. Coughing already, are they? Shame, shame. Been goin’ around something fierce from what I hear.

Well, what If I told you that I can protect you and your loved ones, all for little more than the price of a mint Julep? ‘Madness,’ you say! But look again, good sir: Scuttlesby’s Miracle Tonic! Distilled through an incredible mix of far eastern phosphenes, lunules, and mountain orchids, filtered through a unique skeuomorph of my own design, this fantastic tonic guarantees a clear mind, sharpened senses, and a body free of any sickness, fever, or malady you care to name … and it’ll even regrow that hair to boot! Don’t be shy, take a whiff sir.

Smells like science, doesn’t it? I could tell you were a perceptive man the moment I set eyes on you. That’s why I’ll offer you a deal like no other. This very day, a one time only offer, you can supply your whole family with Scuttlesby’s perfected, proven, and patented panacea.

Boils? Thing of the past.

Itchy rash? A mere memory.

And best of all, take care of those poor little children’s coughin’ and wheezin’ the whole day through.

Does it truly? Good people, would I stand here — a proud man, with knowledge gleaned from mystical medicinal masters from the Far East — and lie to you? Why would I, when it’s simply a matter of unique design working in cadence with the body’s natural equilibrium through correcting all negative bio-conductive influences? Elementary science!

Dabney Scuttlesby’s a man of his word. You’ll never feel better. Guaranteed results, on my dear grandmother’s life.

Three bottles sir? Of course. And one for you my lady? Absolutely, though not even I can improve on that lovely face … medicine can only go so far, am I right gentlemen?

And why not celebrate with a trip to the circus? Tickets to see the marvels of those fine souls at the Fourth Ring, courtesy of yours truly. That’ll brighten the kids up quick smart, let me tell you. No, no, don’t thank me, I’m just a man doing his service to the fine folks of Gomorra.

A wise purchase! Let your family know miracles are on their side.

You sir! Yes, you with the limp! What would you say if I told you I could take all that pain away, for barely more than the price of a plate of bacon? Come on over, let Dabney take care of you.