High Plains Drovers

7/28/2019 High Plains Drovers

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Blood Drive

Episode 2: High Plains Drovers Based the Deadlands campaign by John Goff. Adapted by Andrew Roberts. Characters and

Setting by Pinnacle Entertainment and Great White Games.



The Story So Far…

Bill Sutter was unable to get a fair price for his herd of Longhorns from Bayou Vermilion, the nearest

railroad to his ranch, the Lazy S. Refusing to knuckle under, he and his niece Abby Morton chose to

drive his beeves north to Denver, hoping to get a better price there than in the crowded cattle market

in Dodge City. Five drifters hired on as trail hands to help with the drive, but Bayou Vermilion took

exception to this and made attempts to stop them. In the process they brought Sutter back in contact

with an old enemy – a Comanche shaman known as Black Dog.

After a rough time in the western Texas scrubland, a brief stop near Roswell turned sour after an

encounter with an apparent spy from the local Confederate fort. The Confederates suspected the drifters

of being accomplices to the spy. To avoid getting into a losing fight with the Confederate army, the

herd hit the trail again.

The drifters ran afoul of Black Dog again near Black Mesa. Fending off attacks by braves from the

tribal movement known as the ‘Order of the Raven’, and creatures straight from the spiritual world of

the Hunting Grounds, the herd and crew passed into Colorado and the Disputed Territories. There they

encountered a minor warlord, Colonel Socrates Gault, who seized the herd along with Sutter and several

other trail hands. With help from enforcers working for the Black River Railroad Company, the drifters

took down the warlord and reached Denver with the herd…



Chapter 1 – A Change of Plans

Denver, Colorado – June 1879

Half a day’s ride from Denver, the Lazy S crew had been milling about the area for the

best part of a week. Bill Sutter had been absent for that time, having been in Denver to get

a feel for the local cattle market with his niece, Abby Morton. Gabriella Vasquez, a

gunslinger from Tennessee known for her vengeful streak, was riding the edges of the

herd and rounding up stragglers. Riding alongside her was Plays with Fire, an Arapaho

brave who was fascinated by technology. In the last two months, they had gained more

experience with cattle. While it wasn’t exactly a glamorous duty, it was much easier than

driving stubborn Longhorns over a thousand miles of hostile wilderness.

When the trail hands weren’t patrolling, they were swapping stories around the newly-

replaced chuck wagon. Father Sam Johnson, a former factory worker turned preacher,had recently been appointed as the trail cook after Javier Ortega was killed during an

attack by border raiders under the command of Colonel Socrates Gault. The off-duty trail

hands that didn’t have any tales were playing cards with Shady Doug Liveaux, a former

medical student and travelling gambler from New Orleans who secretly practiced a form of

black magic he’d discovered hidden within the pages of Edmond Hoyle’s Book of Games.

The last of the drifters was Harvey Edward Millstone, more commonly known as ‘Dr

Lightning’. He was a somewhat delusional scientist from New York who’d travelled west to

practise with his bizarre invention, the Aetheric Static Compressor. When he wasn’t riding

the herd or helping Father Sam maintain the chuck wagon, he was tinkering with hisdevices and constantly mumbling about them.

Every couple of days, some of the trail hands would be cut loose to head into Denver by

Luke Canton, Sutter’s right-hand man and trail boss. Sometimes they’d be sent to gather

supplies. Other times they could go to relax for a while. Even though the offer was always

there, the drifters tended not to go that often. Although Shady Doug was eager to win

some extra money in Denver’s gambling halls, the others were often rel uctant. Gabriella

knew that Black River’s agents were in town, and likely to be looking for her. The same

problem applied with Father Sam, wanted by Hellstromme Industries for stealing a Gatling

Shotgun from their factory in Deseret before he turned to faith. Plays with Fire was alsoreluctant, as he preferred the wilderness where could follow the Old Ways. Plus he wasn’t

really comfortable with being in town, as many saw him as an outsider.

After a few days, Sutter returned to the camp and gathered the crew.

“It turns out we got here a little late.” He addressed, “Between herds comin’ down from the

Wyoming Territory and Texas herds that have already hit the market in Dodge, the price of

beef is in the outhouse hereabouts. It’s only a snake’s belly above what them BayouVermilion varmints were offerin’, and this time, that’s across the board.”



“So we’re stuck then?” one of the cowboys asked. Sutter raised his hand for silence.

“Now, after cogitatin’ on it a piece, I figure it’s both good and bad.” He explained, “It’s bad

that I ain’t headin’ back to Texas a rich man – at least not right away. It’s good in that

there’s another herd here that I was able to buy for a little more than a song. On top of

that, a feller sold me a Union land grant in the Bighorn Basin up in Wyoming that’s a fair

sight larger than my spread on the Brazos. I’m sick of dealin’ with those Bayou Vermilionhooligans, so I took him up on it. I plan to take both herds north and start a new ranch up

in the territory. Any of you that wants can ride with me. Those who don’t I understand.

You’re welcome to any pay that’s owed to you with no hard feelings on my part.”

Half a dozen cowboys stepped forward, agreeing to accompany Sutter north. Luke Canton

and Abby Morton also agreed, but the others declined and opted to return to Texas.

“I’m gonna follow the Overland Trail north outta Denver.” Sutter explained, “That’s gonna

cut the western edge of the Sioux Nations before we forge north through Winding River

Canyon. Those of you who stayed on will receive $45 a month.”

The cowboys cheered at Sutter’s generous offer. As the crew sorted themselves out,

Sutter pulled the drifters aside. “You folk have done right by me and Abby from the get go.”

He told them, “To tell the truth, this here deal has put a dent in my wallet. I’m gonna need

to be hirin’ more hands as well. I’m willin’ to cut you in for a tenth ownership of my original

herd, divided amongst yourselves, in lieu of payment, if you choose to stay on with us.”

Shady Doug whistled at the proposal; Sutter’s herd numbered 1300 steers when it hadreached Denver, accounting for losses and sales along the way. The drifters were being

offered 130 Longhorns.

“The lord shines down on you, Mr Sutter.” Father Sam remarked, “But I’m sure prices will

be high in Wyoming.”

“You’re right.” Sutter replied, “I’ll tell what; I’m gonna offer 200 steers for your recent

contributions these past months. Things probably ain’t gonna be any easier north of

Mason-Dixon, so that’s a generous offer. You can get as much as $40 fo r one Longhorn if

you sell them in a favourable market.” “That’s almost $8000.” Gabriella commented, “We can’t thank you enough.”

“Buying the second herd gives us a total of 2000 Longhorns, but we’re shorthanded for the

trip.”

More days went by. Sutter had put out a call for experienced trail hands in Denver, and

drifters were flocking to the camp. Both he and Canton were scrutinising them carefully.

Many of the newcomers were honest cowboys looking for work, but Canton was stillsuspicious of many, fearing that they could be rustlers or bandits taking a measure of the

crew. The first candidate to be recruited was Colton Wright, a somewhat laid back guitar



playing smart-aleck who always wore a brown derby. Also recruited was a mean booze-

hound named Tall Murphy and a former chemistry teacher from Back East known as

‘Jimmy the Chemist’.

A few days later, the camp was visited by a nondescript unimposing man who seemeddedicated to signing on. As the drifters were resting, he approached them.

“Howdy folks!” He said cheerfully, “My name’s Jay Goodman. I’m really looking forward to

working with this crew.”

“Are you a trail hand?” Shady Doug asked.

“Hell yeah!” Goodman replied, “I’ve ridden down the Texas Road and the Chisholm Trails

a lot of times.”

“What kind of things do you encounter on the Chisholm Trail?”

“Tummy Twisters infecting the herds, Injuns attacking us as we pass Adobe Walls, ghostly

judges that lynch the trail hands…” Goodman listed.

“I heard about those.” Doug commented, “Do you know anything about them?”

“I heard only a lawman’s bullet can put ‘em down. There was couple of other stuff too…”

While Goodman was answering the questions, Gabriella was scrutinising him closely. She

had a distinct feeling that he wasn’t being completely square with them.

As the day went on, Goodman continued to chat up the trail crew. He recalled anecdotes

from his drives, monopolising conversations to some extent and barely letting other parties

getting words in. He also entertained the others with cigars, chewing tobacco, a flask of

whiskey, a deck of cards, and a small roll of cash, playing to their vices. As he played, he

established a rapport with Shady Doug.

“What happened when you went through Texas?” he asked them during a card game.

“The usual array of threats.” Gabriella replied bluntly.

“Why’d you come to Denver?”

“We wanted to get away from Bayou Vermilion’s monopoly on the cattle trade.” Abby told

him, “We were gonna make sales at Roswell but weren’t successful.”

“What happened? Did you have some kind of encounter?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Shady Doug answered.

“Well, when we came across the Hanging Judges on the Chisholm Trail I had a roughencounter with a Texas Ranger. Hank ‘One Eye’ Ketchum was his name. He kicked my

ass for trying to investigate the mystery behind the Judge.”



“The Chisholm Trail is nowhere near Roswell.” Tall Murphy informed him.

In the late afternoon, Goodman was preparing to take his leave. “It was a time and a half.”

He told the drifters, “I’m sure your boss will keep me in mind if work opens up.”

As he was leaving, Gabriella pulled him out of sight behind the chuck wagon, holding her

bowie knife to his throat.

“No one has ever been that outgoing when applying for trail work.” She hissed, “I want

answers and I want them now!”

“That’s not necessary.” Goodman replied, “What do you take me for?”

“You’ve been asking too many questions.” Gabriella stated. “For all I know, you’re scouting

us out for rustlers. Now spill the beans before I spill your guts!”

She pressed the blade to his throat tightly. Goodman was trembling like a leaf. Whatever

his agenda, he was no martyr.

“I’m a spy for Union Blue!” he stuttered as the other drifters investigated the commotion,

“I’m just making sure you’re all who you say you are since you’re passing the Uni on Blue

line.”

“And why are you interested in Roswell?” Gabriella demanded.

“Word reached the railroad that a Wasatch spy broke into the Confederate’s base there.”

Goodman explained, “They heard about your dust-up with the army.”

“He’s telling the truth.” Father Sam told Gabriella, “Only one of Hellstromme’s agents

would carry Deseret bank notes in New Mexico.”

“You see? That wasn’t so hard.” Gabriella noted, “Now scram!”

They watched the spy take off back to Denver. Shady Doug took another look at the paper

he’d taken from the body of the spy in Roswell. Father Sam examined the illustration and

the annotations.

“It looks like a schematic for Hellstromme’s automatons.” Father Sam explained, “It looks

like the Confederate army was attempting to reverse engineer one.”

“How would that work?” Plays asked.

“I don’t know.” Sam replied, “I only worked on the chassis, not the interior. I’ve never seen

them in action.”

The following day, Sutter led the herd on the new drive.



Chapter 2 – Outbreak!Thanks to a little amount of good animal husbandry and large amount of luck, none of

Sutter’s herd had been afflicted by any serious parasites. Unfortunately, the previous

owner of the herd he’d acquired in Denver was not so lucky. A week out of Denver, the

crew was nearing the South Platte River. Father Sam was driving the chuck wagon, while

the other drifters had been promoted to flank riders. Shady Doug was riding close to the

herd on his horse, Baron. As he rode, he noticed one of the Longhorns staggering to a

stop and falling over.

“Is everything alright there?” Sutter called.

“One of the Longhorns just collapsed!” Dr Lightning called back, “Maybe it just stumbled!”

Despite the inventor’s premature response, Shady Doug went to examine the steer. While

a Longhorn stumbling or even dying wasn’t unusual, they had been travelling through goodgrazing country, there wasn’t a water shortage, and their pace had been fairly leisurely. As

such, the situation seemed out of the ordinary. When he dismounted for a closer look, he

saw the Longhorn’s abdomen moving spastically in and out, almost fluttering as if it was

struggling for breath. He examined the beast’s head. There were no definite signs of life:

Its eyes were rolled back into its head, its lips were pulled back from teeth, and its tongue

was protruding slightly from its mouth. Furthermore, there was no movement in the steer’s

nostrils to indicate that it was still breathing.

While Doug was performing his impromptu autopsy, the sound of snorts and squeals

erupted throughout the herd as more Longhorns stumbled and collapsed. Almost a dozenhad simply fallen over and died, leaving the trail hands scratching their heads. Doug

continued to examine them. Within moments, a tick the size of a man’s fist burst from the

Longhorn’s stomach.

“Prairie ticks!” Murphy shouted as more of the engorged and blood-soaked parasites

chewed their way out of the bellies of the other dead steers, pieces of entrails dangling

from their hooked legs. Nausea overcame Plays with Fire as he watched the ticks crawl

out of the carcasses and onto the ground. Fortunately, their bladders were filled to the

bursting point with cow’s blood, so all they could do was crawl. Another trail hand, Bob

Epps, dismounted and stomped on one of them, reeling back in disgust as its sac burst

and sprayed its hellish contents up his leg. Several other trail hands reached for their

pistols.

“No, don’t!” Gabriella cried, but it was futile. One of the cowboys fired off a single shot in

fear. The herd, already nervous from the smell of blood in the air, immediately panicked

and broke into a stampede.

“Oh…merde!” Doug cried out. As he was examining one of the dead beeves, he was

standing right in the middle of the herd as they began to panic. He was able to dive for

cover, but not before being kicked by several beeves as they thundered past. Gabriellaand Plays joined the other trail hands as they tried to calm the herd down, turning back the



lead steers by riding in arcs in front of them. By the end of the afternoon, the stampede

had halted and the steers were rounded up again. Shady Doug was back on his horse

riding to meet Sutter. Thankfully, he had only suffered a couple of bumps and bruises from

the kicks, but he had been somewhat rattled.

“I’ll live.” He told the others, “But we should check the other steers for any signs of the

ticks.” While examining the lost cattle, the other hands had noticed small lacerations on thesteers’ lips from when the ticks had first crawled into their mouths. Doug hadn’t noticed

these when he examined them, but they were at least a week old and had mostly healed

over.

“You’re suggesting that we check the mouths of every steer for scratches that are hard to

see.” Sutter told him bluntly, “That’ll take several days to clear the herd and by that time,

those which were affected will be dead. Besides, there’s not much we can do about it

anyway except watch ‘em die or put ‘em down.”

Doug contemplated Sutter’s words and nodded in understanding, trotting back to hisposition on the flank. Fortunately, only three more steers were killed by prairie ticks the

morning after the first outbreak. No further losses followed.



Chapter 3 – At the Gates of HadesIt had transitioned to mid-summer, so the weather had taken a turn for the milder and

lessened the threat of challenging river crossings. The Lazy S crew was able to ford the

South Platte River near the stagecoach stop at Latham Station with minimal trouble. The

route to the Wyoming Territory looked clear. Even the on-going guerrilla warfare that

plagued the Disputed Territories was getting quieter the further north they travelled. After a

couple of days, the drifters were slowly beginning to relax. Until Sutter made his

announcement that evening:

“I want everyone to be on their toes for this part of the stretch.” He advised, “We’ll be in the

vicinity of Camp Hades.”

“Oh Lord.” Father Sam muttered, “I can’t afford to have any run-ins with Hellstromme’s

flock.”

“Don’t panic,” Sutter replied, “The Overland Trail runs some distance west of the Wasatch

encampment. That should prevent any unwanted entanglements with any rail gangs in the

area.”

There wasn’t much relief at Sutter’s claims. Camp Hades was a heavily fortified railroad

camp owned by Wasatch, the company owned by Professor Darius Hellstromme to fund

his inventions back at his laboratories and factories in Salt Lake City. The mighty fortress

protected the eastern entrance of a mighty tunnel which would run under the RockyMountains all the way to California. Since this could be an ideal target for the other rail

barons, Hellstromme ordered the construction of a camp manned by his enforcers,

including the feared X-Squads, steam-powered automatons, Gatling guns, and cannons.

As the herd moved along the trail, the drifters were looking over their shoulders. On the

horizon, they noticed a group of heavily armed gunmen shadowing them from the higher

ground. As they looked a second time, the group had moved on. The trail hands, including

the drifters, were jittery. They were afraid that rustlers were observing them. Sutter himself was not worried. He knew this was another effect of being in the vicinity of Camp Hades;

the armed groups were obviously scouts working for the other rail barons keeping an eye

on the activity in the area. The group monitoring them had obviously determined that the

Lazy S crew did not pose a serious threat.

Two days after the herd crossed the South Platte, a devilish howl pierced the air. Everyone

recognised it as the sound of burning ghost rock. A steam wagon was churning across the

rolling terrain towards the herd. From a distance, it looked bulky and oddly shaped, moving

slowly in an ominous way. Obviously, it was not one of the commercial models sold by

Smith and Robards. Sutter turned to the drifters.



“See what those folks want before they get closer.” He instructed, “I don’t want that

contraption scaring the herd.”

The drifters turned their horses and rode to confront the approaching steam wagon. As

they rode closer, they discovered that the vehicle was heavily armoured, including adriver’s bench surrounded by steel plating. When the drifters reached the wagon, they

found themselves staring down the business end of the barrels of a manned Gatling gun

mounted behind the driver’s compartment. While the gunner wasn’t tracking the drifters,

they still got an eyeful of the weapon’s barrels. The steam wagon came to a halt a short

distance from the drifters. A tall, thin man dressed in a long, steel-grey coat stepped down

from the passenger side. His gaze was solely focused on the drifters. He dismounted and

marched up the drifters in a determined manner, carrying a pistol-like device attached to a

backpack.

“Guten tag . I am Jürgen Emmerich, a representative of the Wasatch Railroad Company.”He said with the warmth and personality of cold steel. “It has come to my attention that you

or one of your fellow…’cowboys’ is in possession of property of an intellectual nature that

belongs to the Wasatch Railroad.”

“What property?” Gabriella asked. Emmerich hushed her.

“This property is of tremendous value to my employer and he would like it returned post-

haste. Of course, the perceived value of the property warrants that I render adequate

remuneration on his behalf for your efforts in seeing it safely here.”

“I’ll ask again.” Gabriella said, “What property are you talking about?”

Emmerich gave them a look of exasperation. “The exact nature of said property is not

something I am at liberty to discuss. However, a…courier in our employ was en route to

deliver this property when he ran afoul of Confederate interdiction forces in the vicinity of

Roswell, New Mexico. Other sources have informed us that the Confederates did not

recover our property.”

The drifters looked at him blankly.

“The same sources have also provided that this herd – the ‘Lazy S’, correct? – And itscrew were the only others in the vicinity at that time. Again, we would appreciate the return

of our property. Failure to do so would not be looked upon favourably, of course.”

“How much are you offering?” Shady Doug asked.

“The railroad is willing to pay the sum of $1000 in whatever currency you require for the

information.” Emmerich answered.

Shady Doug produced the blueprint from his pocket and handed it to Emmerich. The

representative examined them before throwing them aside.



“I will not pay for these forgeries!” He snapped, turning sharply and returning to the steam

wagon, which departed in a cloud of dust.

Even though the drifters were correct in assuming that the Confederates were attempting

to create their own mechanical man, Emmerich had a different impression. Hellstromme’s

spy in Roswell was sent to confirm a belief that the Confederacy had been able to partially

decipher the secret of the automatons. Even though the spy was killed trying to escape,Wasatch had learned that the Confederates did not recover any documents, and the Lazy

S crew were the only others in the area. When the pieces were put together, Wasatch sent

Emmerich to recover the documents. Unfortunately, Emmerich had already decided that

the Lazy S crew was to be eliminated. After all, they could have already made copies of

the documents.

In the middle of the night, Gabriella was waking up to relieve Shady Doug of night watch

duty when she heard some unusual noises: the snorts of frightened cattle at the westernedge of the herd half a mile away from the camp. She woke the other drifters up, leading

them to mount and investigate. Several Longhorns lay dead in the area, with large holes in

their sides.

“Do you think that we’ve had more prairie ticks?” Plays asked.

Shady Doug examined the carcasses and shook his head. “These wounds have come

from an outside trauma.” He reported, “I doubt that they’re ticks.”

Plays nodded in agreement. In the poor lighting, he could make out a large number of small indentations around the dead steers. Almost immediately, the sound of more

frightened steers arose not far away. The drifters ran to investigate. The steers were being

attacked by five mysterious creatures. As the drifters looked closer, they could see them: a

group of spiders the size of small dogs, similar to those which they had encountered back

in Texas. However, these spiders weren’t organic creatures; they were mechanical

constructs that were attacking the Longhorns with acid sprays.

Plays with Fire readied his bow and fired an arrow at one of the spiders. The arrow hit the

tarantula’s carapace, but failed to penetrate the metal plates that covered it. The other

spiders moved to engage the drifters with their acid sprays. Shady Doug concentrated. Apair of jacks materialised in his hand. He concealed them with a nifty shuffle while flinging

another card from his sleeve with devastating force. The spider collapsed, releasing a

burst of acid from its head. Gabriella fired a shot with her Peacemaker. The bullet

ricocheted off the spider’s casing.

Dr Lightning immediately fired up his Aetheric Static Compressor. The burst of electricity

hit all four remaining spiders, putting them out of action. Father Sam examined the

attackers. There was no clue to how they worked.

“These spiders are one of Hellstromme’s creations.” He explained, “Whatever’s in their heads seems to have been destroyed.”



“Was I too enthusiastic in stopping them?” Dr Lightning asked.

“No. It looks like they released acid into their casings to dissolve the mechanisms that

made them run. It was probably meant to stop people figuring out how they’re made.”

The following morning, the drifters were once again met by Emmerich.

“So you’re the one who sent those tarantulas after our herd.” Gabriella said accusingly.

“Tarantulas? I sent no such thing.” Emmerich lied, “If you’re going to accuse me of that, I

would like to see these alleged contraptions.” He knew full well the defence mechanisms

on the spiders would shield him from claiming responsibility.

“Perhaps some of our inventions fell into the wrong hands and were released on your

cattle. That would be a terrible event if it occurred, of course. Having seen how dire

possible outcomes from these circumstances can be, I’m sure that you understand myinterest in recovering my employer ’s property. I would hate to see any further calamity

befall your efforts.”

“We have those blueprints if they’re what you’re looking for.” Father Sam explained.

“It is my firm belief that you are withholding information.” Emmerich stated, “I do not have

the patience for your foolish and obstinate ways.”

Once again, he departed in his steam wagon.

An hour later, the crew had been continuing along the trail. The smell of cattle and horses

was prevalent, but the drifters had picked up a distinct odour of smoke in the air. A few

minutes later, a large grass fire was approaching rapidly from the east. Gabriella and Plays

joined the other crew hands as they tried to keep the skittish cattle under control. While the

herd was already moving away from the fire by their own accord, the crew were ensuring

that they didn’t stampede.

Once the herd was under control and away from the fire, Plays rode back to investigate.

He could make out the tracks in the ash. The fire had obviously been started deliberately.

He returned to the crew.

“I don’t think a fire would burn that fiercely in its own.” He told Sutter.

“Maybe someone got careless with a cigar.” Jimmy the Chemist replied.

“I doubt it. A cigar wouldn’t burn up that quickly.”

“It was probably a flamethrower.” Father Sam deduced, “There’s no doubt to who theculprits are.”



Chapter 4 – Death from AboveIt was the morning after the wildfire. The crew was still driving the herd when Emmerich’s

steam wagon once again appeared on the horizon. Sutter’s fists clenched as it appeared.

He called the drifters over.

“I’ve had up to here with that slicker.” He grumbled, “Go talk to him. I’ll send some men

with you.”

The drifters all walked slowly towards the approaching steam wagon, accompanied by ten

other cowboys. Above the noise of the steam wagon’s burning ghost rock was the sound

of bullets being chambered into revolvers and rifles. Father Sam had his Gatling shotgun

primed and ready. Dr Lightning’s equipment was humming. Play with Fire readied his

tomahawk.

Emmerich was not taken by the crew’s show of force. He remained seated on the steam

wagon’s open-topped driver’s compartment. His patience had worn thin.

“I see there were some…further difficulties, yesterday.” He addressed, “I truly wish we

could have reached an accommodation. Unfortunately, the truth is that my employers

could never have been certain of our discretion even if we came to an agreement. So, I

suppose this outcome was inevitable.”

He raised his left hand. Immediately, a Wasatch X-Squad streaked up into the sky from

behind a distant hill. Lines of smoke streamed behind their rocket packs as they

leapfrogged towards the herd. Simultaneously, an auto-gyro appeared around the base of

the hill, flying only a few dozen feet above the ground as it closed in on the herd.

“Pull back!” Emmerich barked unexpectedly, “We’ll lead them to lion’s mouth and claim the

bounty on the preacher!”

Plays with Fire had readied his bow and fired off an arrow at the trouble-shooter.

Emmerich fell from the top of the steam wagon, but was relatively unharmed. He pulled the

arrow out, which hand failed to penetrate the ghost-steel shavings lining his vest. The

other cowboys scattered behind the rocks as the steam wagon’s gunner opened fire withthe Gatling gun. Gabriella fanned the hammer of her Peacemaker, but the bullets simply

ricocheted off the wagon’s armour plating.

Emmerich returned fire with his Electrostatic gun, firing a bolt of electricity at Gabriella. As

the gunslinger dodged it, Dr Lighting fired a burst from his Aetheric Static Compressor at

the wagon. While it dealt minimal damage to the wagon itself, both the driver and the

gunner were fatally electrocuted. The steam wagon rolled out of control into the nearby

hillside and exploded.



By this time, the other Wasatch forces had arrived. The X-Squad troopers opened fire on

the cowboys with Gatling pistols. Around the same time, the autogyro pilot was dropping

bundles of dynamite onto the biggest concentrations of people. The cowboys who returned

fire were failing to dispatch the X-Squads, their bullets not penetrating their armour. Abby

had raised her Winchester and fired multiple shots. Several stray rounds damaged some

of their jetpacks, sending them flying out of control before exploding. The drifters wereoutnumbered. Those who were in cover were targeted by the autogyro crew. When they

ran out to get clear of the dynamite’s blast radius, the X-Squad troopers carved them up.

Shady Doug prepared another mental duel with the spirits who gave him his power. The

bullets curved around him as an invisible force field deflected them. He prepared to throw

a bolt at the autogyro, only for his mental game to backfire. Eldritch power flowed through

his nervous system. He cried out in pain. Meanwhile, Sutter and the other cowboys

already had their hands full. The pitched battle had prompted the herd to stampede, and

they were trying to control them under heavy fire.

As the battle progressed, the drifters and the cowboys were being overpowered by

Emmerich’s men. At the same time, more trouble was on the way: One of Hellstromme’s

automatons was chugging over the hill. This was a humanoid war machine with a ghost-

rock boiler housed in its torso which stomped across the fields with piston-driven limbs. It

opened fire on the drifters with the Gatling gun built into its arm.

Although the trail crew was outmatched, they weren’t alone. A contingent of riders

appeared on the hills and opened fire on the X-Squad. Gabriella watched them advance

before rolling behind a rock to avoid the automaton’s fire. She grabbed a discarded

Winchester and took aim. Her shot entered the automaton’s cylindrical head. The terrifying

machine clunked forwards before falling to the ground. Before anybody could approach,

the automaton’s defence mechanisms caused it to self -destruct.

Emmerich watched as the new band of riders helped the cowboys beat back his men. He

raised his Electrostatic gun and fired at the group. A ball of lightning resembling St Elmo’s

fire emitted from the device. It travelled towards the attackers before erupting in a burst of

electrical energy. Emmerich sneered before turning his tail and running. The autogyro flew

away to meet him.

The trail crew were busy picking up the pieces when the riders met them. The herd had

been calmed down, but almost a quarter of the hands had been killed. Luke Canton was

among them. Gabriella watched as Father Sam administered the last rites. Shady Doug

was propped against the chuck wagon, recovering from the backlash he had suffered. The

riders had stayed to help bury the dead. Jay Goodman approached the drifters. He had

been accompanying the riders.

“I know what you will be asking.” He told Gabriella, “So let me explain: These men arefrom Union Blue, normally watching Camp Hades. We’ve been keeping tabs on the herd



ever since you left Denver. We couldn’t approach until we knew you weren’t in cahoots

with Wasatch. That little skirmish was the proof we needed.”

Gabriella felt a surge of anger at Goodman’s explanation, but it was nonetheless true. She

was angry that Emmerich was able to escape them. She wanted to take care of him before

he came back. Goodman could tell she was thinking that. Her frontier name was ‘Vendetta’

Vasquez after all.

“Don’t bother going after that mad doctor.” He told her, “I doubt his bosses will take the fact

that he failed too kindly. Leave him be.”

“So the Confederates were trying to replicate the automaton.” Father Sam deduced.

“If they did crack their secret, there’s nothing they can do about it now.” Goodman

suggested, “You’d best get away from here. My boys will keep Wasatch away.”

The rest of the journey through the Disputed Territories was uneventful. Sutter and Abby

were despondent over Canton’s death. The drifters were feeling guilty about it too. After

all, it was Canton who had sent them to investigate where the spy had landed.

The drive continued in silence. Nobody felt like talking. Plays with Fire seemed to be

getting increasingly uneasy. Father Sam was the first to notice.

“Plays?” he asked, “Is something troubling you?” “I’ve been thinking about that fight with Wasatch.” He replied, “I now understand the

dangers of technology.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was sent west by my shaman because of my interest in technology.” Plays explained,

“Now that I have seen the dangers first-hand, my work is done.”

“Are you saying…?” Gabriella began.

“Yes. I am finished here. I must return home and tell the tribe what I have seen.”

He handed Gabriella a small trinket.

“Take this.” He said, “It’s so you’ll remember me.”

With that, he turned Devil Eyes and rode away.



Chapter 5 – Into the NationsSeveral weeks passed. By this time, the herd had left the Disputed Territories and crossed

over into Wyoming. While the chances of partisan attacks had gone, Sutter was still

worried.

“Okay folks,” he addressed, “We’ve almost cleared the Overland Trail, but we’re due to

cross a portion of the Sioux Nations.”

There were nervous mutterings amongst the crew. They were all aware that the Sioux

were protective of their land. Sutter raised his hand for silence.

“We’ll try and skedaddle across the very corner of the Nations.” He continued, “If

everything plays out well, we can be in Wind River Canyon before the Injuns know we

were in their land.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Gabriella chambered more rounds into her Peacemaker.

While Sutter was hopeful, his crew had to respect the fact they were trying to move

through territory unnoticed, while escorting a herd of just under two thousand Longhorns.

Two days into the journey, Gabriella caught notice of several small bands of Indians. They

were shadowing the herd from a distance.

“It looks like a war party.” Plays observed. They both rode over in the hopes of a parley.

The band swiftly rode away into the wilderness.

“We’ve been spotted.” Gabriella informed Sutter.

“They’re only a small band.” Sutter replied, “They won’t risk attacking us. We’ll have

double the watch at night though. It’s best to be prepared.”

As the crew camped down for the night, the drifters were on watch. Doug was trying his

best to stay awake while Dr Lightning was still muttering about his inventions. As they

were on watch, five Sioux braves were sneaking into the camp and making their waytowards the Remuda. Gabriella was the first to notice them. She whistled for the others.

The braves heard the whistle and turned to face them. Two of them carried ornate wooden

sticks. They attempted to touch Gabriella and Father Sam with them before fleeing into the

night. Gabriella prepared to give chase with Mina, her trusty steed. Sutter grabbed her

shoulder

“Let them go.” He said, “They’re just trying to count coup.”

“What does that mean?” Gabriella asked.

“They touch one of their opponents with an ornate stick. It’s meant to be a display of

bravery.”



“What’s happening?” One of the other cowboys asked groggily as he woke up.

“Sutter was right about the war party.” Doug replied, “We caught them trying to steal some

horses.”

The journey continued. Once again, the war party was following the herd from a distance

during the day. Once again, they tried to sneak into the camp at night to steal horses and

count coup. On some nights, they even tried to stampede the herd. However, like before,

they fled into the night whenever the drifters tried to confront them.

Three more days passed. The trial crew found themselves at the North Platte River near

the Oregon Trail. Shady Doug was riding Warrior, the horse Plays originally had, while his

own horse rested. The brave had left him the horse when he claimed Devil Eyes and

returned home. The trail hands riding point were too late to notice a patch of quicksand on

the bank of the river. As a result, four cattle stumbled into the pool and began to sink

before the crew could divert the rest.

“Get them outta there!” Sutter commanded. The drifters immediately rode forwards. They

were due to own part of the herd after all. Lariats were thrown to the cattle. Shady Doug

tried to pull one of the Longhorns out. His less than obedient mount stumbled into the

quicksand. Gabriella moved to help him. Doug used all his strength to try and climb out.

He wasn’t able to free himself, but he had stopped himself from sinking further. Gabriella

pulled him out, but they were unable to stop Warrior from being sucked under the surface.There was nothing they could do. The Longhorns were a more pressing matter. By the

time they were pulled out, Warrior had drowned.

It was only a minor loss, so nobody mourned for long. The damage had been done, but the

hazard had been dealt with. The rest of the herd was diverted around the quicksand with

minimal effort.

Not long after clearing the river, the crew got their first look at the Oregon Trail after

cresting a rise. The drifters were in awe. Not from the trail itself, this was nothing more

than a pair of deeply rutted wagon wheel tracks, but from the large contingent of Sioux on

the opposite side of the ruts that blocked the herd’s progress north.

“I think they want us to follow the trail.” Sutter theorised, “Maybe that’s how they want folks

passin’ through?”

The drifters had no choice but to agree. The war party had been following them all the way

through their land, and their numbers had grown each day. They were outnumbered five toone, possibly more.



Once the herd was moving along the Oregon Trail, the Sioux began to flank them to the

north and south, while a rear guard followed them close behind. The crew was keeping the

herd to the vicinity of the trail, and the Indians seemed content to pace them. Gabriella

was riding point. As she viewed the trail, she could make out the tracks to be from a

sizeable group of wagons, horses, and walkers.

“These are fresh tracks.” She deduced, “They’re from at least a few days.”

“I’d say there were six wagons.” Sutter replied, “Possibly more.”

The Sioux escort remained with the herd throughout the day and kept watch over them

that night. The following morning, Gabriella caught sight of an old fort beside the trail. The

rest of the crew spotted it before she could tell them; they had seen the smoke rising from

inside the walls, a possibility that the fort was inhabited. An almighty cheer came from the

crew. Sutter and the drifters were not rejoicing, and they were right not to.

The fort was in a state of disrepair. Significantly large holes were in the palisades. The

gates were propped up with some of the broken segments. There were several figures

atop the walls observing the herd. The trail crew could immediately tell that they were not

soldiers. As the drifters led the herd towards the ramshackle fort, they found the Sioux

blocking any further progress. The Indians drove them towards the fort while

simultaneously widening their cordon. They were trapped, shepherded to an area roughly

one mile in diameter centred on the fort. Their ‘pen’ was ringed by a growing horde of Sioux warriors.

As the herd settled down, a small group of men came out of the fort. They looked like

pioneers. Leading them was a grey-bearded man in a flannel shirt and weathered

plainsman hat.

“Boy, are we glad to see you folks!” He said excitedly, “It’s the first bit of luck we’ve had in

a while. Those Injuns cor ralled us here a few days ago, and we ain’t seen any other white

folks since then. Weirdest thing, though. They ain’t attacked us, not even a feint. They justsit over there in the distance and watch.”

“Who are you folks?” Sutter asked.

“I’m Rudolph Jovich.” The pioneer introduced, “I’m the wagon master.”

“Have you tried meeting with them?” Shady Doug asked.

Rudolph pointed at a few corpses in the distance. “Anyone that tries to leave the

encirclement gets feathered with so many arrows he looks like an over sized pincushion.”

He explained, “We’re afraid to go round ‘em up for fear of catchin’ a few arrows ourselves.”



The drifters wandered into the fort. Nearly 30 settlers were camped inside. The fort itself

was as ramshackle on the inside as it was on the outside. The interior buildings were

nothing more than an occasional wall or door frame. Large sections of the palisade had

fallen down in several places. Wagons had been moved in front of the wall breaches to

block them. A few of the pioneers were patrolling atop the remaining wall sections, armed

with shotguns or muzzle-loading rifles. Their families had set up living quarters in their wagons or in the half-dozen battered tents.

“We were heading to Oregon when the Sioux caught us a few days ago.” Rudolph to ld

them, “I’ve no idea why they trapped us here. They have made no attempt to contact us.”

The drifters were unsettled at the tale. As they pondered, they noticed one family gathered

together which was looking more grief-stricken than the rest.

“What bad luck did you run into previously?” Father Sam asked.

“That’s the Bowers family.” Rudolph answered, “They lost their grandmother to

consumption just outside of Laramie. To be honest, I thought she was too frail to be makin’

the trip in the first place. Anyways, that cost us a few days, what with her laid up sick…and

then the burial.”

“You have our condolences.” Gabriella said quickly. Father Sam made a sign of the cross

with his hand.

“Here’s the part I’ve been delayin’. Before we ran into the Injuns, a few folks started

showin’ signs of illness – smallpox, to be exact. Three have died from it since we’ve been

trapped at the fort. We’ve set up a cemetery round back. I reckon the Injuns are keepin’ us

bottled up until we fill it.”

“How many of you are carrying?” Shady Doug queried.

“We’ve got four showin’ the symptoms.” Rudolph told him, pointing to a tent in the back of

the ruins.

The drifters were even more unsettled.

“If the disease or the arrows don’t kill us, the starvation will.”



Chapter 6 - Quarantine“We’ll be camping a short distance from the ruins.” Sutter informed the drifters, “The last

thing we want is to shelter in a fort with folks brimming with disease.”

“That’s understandable.” Gabriella commented as the crew was assembled.

“I want four people on night watch every night.” Sutter addressed, “Two pairs will patrol the

perimeter in opposite directions as usual.”

As night fell, most of the trail hands were asleep, including the drifters. A dozen scalp-

hungry braves were making their way towards the camp. Leading them was Black Dog. He

had been trailing the herd ever since their skirmish on Black Mesa, slowly recovering from

the wound he had sustained. Now the herd was in the Sioux Nations, he had seen a

chance. He had convinced the Sioux to trap them with the pioneers, but his patience had

worn thin over the weeks.

Black Dog’s party had been able to bypass the trail hands on watch, and was prepared to

focus his wrath on the drifters. Several braves crept up and prepared to cut their throats as

they slept. Shady Doug, always a heavy sleeper, was nearly caught unaware when

Gabriella woke up suddenly. She grabbed a blade-wielding arm mere inches away from

her neck and threw the attacking brave into the one trying to jump Shady Doug. The other

braves ran to attack her. Gabriella drew her Peacemaker and fired off a wild shot. The

other drifter woke up quickly and confronted the war party.

Black Dog had subdued several cowboys by making them glimpse into the Hunting

Grounds. As they tried to flee in panic, he prepared to cut Sutter’s throat with his Bowie

knife. Gabriella quickly threw her own knife into his torso. Black Dog cried out in pain and

turned to face her. She quickly pulled the knife out of him before knocking him to the

ground. As she raised her Peacemaker, another brave attempted to jump her, giving Black

Dog a chance to turn into a coyote and scurry away. As he fled, the remaining braves also

retreated into the night.

The following morning, the Lazy S Crew was looking over the damage caused by the night

attack. While eating breakfast, the drifters noticed a procession leaving the fort. Shady

Doug got up and approached them.

“What’s happened?” He asked Jovich.

“Another person has died from the plague.” The frontiersman explained, “Worse, two more

people have been afflicted.”

“I’ll see if Father Sam will run a service.” Doug promised.



“Doug!” A voice called from the trail crew’s camp. It was Abby. She was running to where

Doug and Jovich were standing.

“What is it?”

“We need you back at the camp.” She told him, “Colton’s fallen ill. I think it may be

smallpox. You said you were a trainee doctor.”

“What about your new carriers?” Doug asked Jovich, “Do they have smallpox too?”

Jovich nodded. Shady Doug was unsettled by the response.

“That’s odd.” He muttered, “Smallpox does not spread that fast.”

Father Sam was tending to the feverish Colton. The unfortunate trail hand was afflicted

with a heavy rash. Shady Doug examined him.

“It’s definitely smallpox.” He said solemnly, “But it’s a more virulent f orm. Can you arrange

for some divine intervention, Pere?”

“I’m afraid not.” Father Sam replied, “The time to do that is when the disease first sets in. I

may be able to try though.”

He kneeled down and said a short prayer. Nothing happened. Father Sam got up and

walked away, sitting by the chuck wagon in quiet contemplation. Shady Doug watched him

moping before turning back to the patient. He looked at the blisters on Colton’s ankle.

Some of the pockmarks looked out of place from the others. In fact, they d idn’t look likepox blisters at all; they resembled puncture wounds. He ran to find the others.

Most of the trail hands were spending the day trying to sit out of the blistering sun.

Gabriella was consulting with Sutter and Abby.

“There’s no water source here.” She informed them, “How did a trade with Jovich go?”

“Not well.” Abby replied, “His people are running low on supplies. To be honest, most folks

are uneasy about trading with them. We don’t want another outbreak of the pox.”

“The water barrel on the chuck wagon’s full.” Sutter added, “But we have to share it

between the herd and the trail hands. It won’t last for another few days.”

“Father Sam will be having difficulties cooking. All we have is hard tack.” Abby mentioned.

“Why are being kept here?” Gabriella pondered, “Surely the Sioux would be after our

scalps right now. Do you think Black Dog had something to do with this?”

“It’s possible.” Sutter answered, “They only seem to attack when someone tries to sneak

away. If Plays was here, do you think he could parley with them?”

“I think we’ve been trapped with something.” Shady Doug interrupted.



The three turned and raised their brows at his suggestion.

“I saw some puncture wounds on Colton’s leg.” He explained, “They must have been

concealed by his sores.”

“Puncture wounds?” Gabriella asked in bewilderment.

“I think it’s something to do with the pioneers. Something is among them. It may actually

be a vampire.”

Gabriella and Abby both stared at him. They weren’t buying his story at all. On the other

hand, Sutter was contemplating it carefully. He had seen a lot of things that he didn’t

understand, both during his days in the army and when he was running the ranch back in

Texas.

“I think you may be right.” He said ominously.

It was late in the afternoon. Jovich and his party were watching Sutter’s group as they dug

up the graves to the north of the fort.

“We wish to examine your pox victims.” Doug had explained to him, “I believe that I have

found a pattern in the spread of the disease.”

The trail crew had been surprised when he consented to the group’s proposal to exhume

the victims’ bodies. Like Doug, he was also suspicious of how fast the smallpox had beenspreading.

It was tiring work to dig up the shallow graves in the blazing sun. A strong smell of sweat

permeated the air, but for some reason, the smell of decomposition wasn’t big. Father

Sam was digging hard when he unearthed the first body. As expected, it was covered with

sores. What wasn’t expected was that the corpse burst into flames and was reduced to

dust the moment it came into contact with the sunlight. Father Sam made the sign of the

cross.

“We are facing a creature of pure evil.” He said hysterically, “These are unholy creatures of the night which carry the pox.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Reverend.” Jovich interrupted.

“No.” Shady Doug replied, “I’m afraid that he is right. These ‘plague vampires’ could

explain why the smallpox was travelling so quickly. Perhaps this is why the Sioux have

trapped us here. We have been quarantined.”

As he spoke, the trail crew dug up the other graves. Once again, the corpses burnt up as

soon as the sunlight hit them.“There may be more.” Father Sam warned, “We should prepare.”



“How do we prepare?” Gabriella asked.

“I might have an idea.” Shady Doug began, “When I was still living in New Orleans, I met a

fellow student from Romania who told me tales about vampires. He talked about them

being unholy beings which were fended off by symbols of religion.”

“Reverend, do you have a crucifix?” Sutter asked. Father Sam nodded and held it out.

“We need crucifixes, bibles, crosses, anything to represent our faith!” Sutter called to

everybody in the immediate vicinity.

“We might not be able to kill them with that, but it will scare them away.” Doug replied, “We

know that sunlight kills them, as we saw that on hand. Maybe we could hold them at bay

until dawn. They’ll be flambéed as they are caught in the sunlight.”

“I’m all for that.” Dr Lightning said enthusiastically.

“But we don’t know how many of these things there are.” Gabriella warned, “Surely there isanother way.”

“Well, the traditional way to kill a vampire is to drive a wooden stake through their heart.”

Doug explained, “But I’m sure that most would be reluctant to get close.”

“I don’t care.” Sutter replied, “We should kill whatever ungodly abomination is spreading

this, and then we can figure out how to get out of here.”

“That thing will come tonight.” Jovich deduced, “And when it does, we’ll be ready for it.”



Chapter 7 – Curing the Plague As night fell, Gabriella and Father Sam were on patrol. It was late at night and the rest of

the camp had settled in. As they looked sharply, they could make out a figure weaving

through the herd towards the vicinity of the sleeping trail crew. They watched closely. The

figure stood over Shady Doug as he slept, and was preparing to feed. Gabriella drew her

Peacemaker and shot it in the back. Unphased, the figure turned to face her. She waved

her torch towards it. In the light of the flame, she made out a hideous face which bore the

pus-filled lesions of a smallpox carrier, along with a mouth which had sharp fangs in place

of teeth.

The creature lunged towards Gabriella, when Father Sam stepped forwards with a crucifix

held high. The creature was repulsed, as if the crucifix was preventing from approaching.

“It’s here!” A shout emerged, Jovich and the other members of his party emerged from the

fort with torches and rifles. The creature lunged towards them. Several of the group wereunsettled and retreated back into the fort, but the more hardy members forced the

abomination back with bibles and crosses. It was caught in a bottleneck, but nobody was

willing to approach it out of fear of infection.

“You must drive a stake through its heart!” Shady Doug called, “It’s the best way to kill it!”

Nobody came any closer to the creature.

“Maybe there’s another way.” Abby called back.

“Perhaps holy water could do the trick.” Father Sam suggested.

“No. We need to save the water in the chuck wagons.” Sutter replied.

“I have an idea!” Gabriella cried, “If all else fails, kill it with fire!”

She swung her torch at the vampire, hitting it in the side of the torso. The unholy creature

burst into flames, but was unable to escape as everybody held it bay with their holy

symbols. With nowhere to go, it slowly burnt to ashes.

Everybody watched as the creature died.

“Everybody who has been infected is to be buried with a stake through their heart.” Shady

Doug ordered, “I know many will object, but our reverend friend will agree with me that it

shall free their souls.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Both the trail crew and the frontier party spent the next few days watching over their

numbers who had been infected with smallpox. One by one, they succumbed to the



sickness, and were given the new burials as per Doug’s instructions. Eventually, all the

carriers had been taken care of.

The morning after the last carrier was staked, Gabriella woke early to find that the ring of

Indians surrounding the area had disappeared. A lone rider was approaching. To her

surprise, it was Plays with Fire.

“Plays?” she inquired as the other trail hands joined her.

“I decided to return.” The Indian explained, “I followed your tracks to the fort and tried to

reach you, but I was barred by the local tribes.”

“Why were they keeping us here?” Sutter asked, “Did you get to meet any of the

shamans?”

“Yes. It seems that they had detected the presence of a dangerous abomination among

the wagon train here, and were keeping them here to make sure that it didn’t spread

across the Nation.” He told everybody.

“Do you think Black Dog had something to do with it?” Abby queried.

“He may have manipulated the warriors guarding the wagon train into keeping you at the

fort.”

“Maybe he thought that the vampires would finish us off.” Dr Lightning suggested.

“He must have got tired of waiting if that was the case.” Gabriella added, “That explains

why they went for us on the first night.” Plays raised his hand for silence. “The shamans met me the previous night and asked me

to bring a message: They know that you have put down this horrific abomination, and in

recognition of your efforts, have convinced their respective tribes to grant us passage

through the Sioux Nations unmolested.”

Sutter turned to face the trail crew. “Did you folks all hear that?” he called, “We’re free to

go! Now let’s mount up and get the herd outta here!”

There was a cheer from the crew. As they rounded up the herd, Jovich approached the

group.

“Before you go, I’d like to thank you all for your help. If it wasn’t for this city slicker’s

knowin’ of the world’s weirdness, none of us would have got out of here.”

He walked over to Shady Doug and shook him by the hand.

“Merci , Monsieur Jovich.” Doug replied, “And Plays; it’s great to see you again.”



Chapter 8 – The Home StretchTrue to the shamans’ message, the herd continued through the Sioux Nations with no

interference. Eventually, they arrived at the recognised boundaries of the Nations at the

foot of the Owl Creek and Bridger Mountains. Sutter once again assembled the crew at

breakfast. The ranges were separated by Wind River Canyon, and the Bighorn River lay to

the north of that.

“We won’t have much luck getting a herd across those mountain ranges.” He stated, “So

we’ll herd them through the canyon. If we’re lucky, we can find a shortcut to our new

property near the Bighorn Basin.”

Most of the crew listened, but they weren’t convinced; it didn’t take a frontiersman to know

that it wouldn’t be an easy route. The southern mouth of the river flowed north into the

canyon between cliff walls that rose in places to almost half a mile on either side. The

canyon itself twisted its way between two mountain ranges for nearly twenty miles. Therewas precious little room between the canyon walls for anything besides the river itself.

When the crew drove the herd into the canyon, they found it every bit difficult as it

appeared. The river bottom was covered with rocks and the banks were very narrow –

wedged between rushing water and steep cliffs. The riverbank petered out on one side

more often than not, and the roaring rapids made crossings impossible. The crew were

effectively running into dead ends, made worse by the fact that they had to convince a

herd of nearly 3000 less than obedient Longhorns to turn around and backtrack to a

suitable fording spot.

By the end of the day, the herd had barely moved five miles into the canyon. There was

little else which could be done.

Night fell. The trail hands were all bedded down. Shady Doug was posted on watch while

Father Sam was maintaining the chuck wagon. Plays with Fire had been posted on watch

at the other end. The only light was from the stars while the breeze was one of the only

sounds which could be heard, besides the crackling of the campfire slowly going out.

Shady Doug was trying to stay awake, swallowing a mouthful of lukewarm coffee.

As he stood watch, he was snapped out of his daze by an odd, high-pitched cry from

somewhere above. He picked up a shotgun from one of the sleeping trail hands.

“Did you hear that, Pere?” He whispered to Father Sam. The priest nodded, picking up his

Gatling Shotgun from the chuck wagon. He looked up. A black silhouette of what could

have been a huge bird passed in front of the stars. All was quiet.

“I can’t have just imagined that.” Shady Doug grumbled. Almost ironically, something

swooped down and grabbed one of the sleeping trail hands. Father Sam pulled the trigger

on his Gatling. A hail of buckshot flew into the creature. In the light of the muzzle flashes,

Shady Doug made out the sight of huge black wings, snapping teeth, and luminous red



eyes. More screeching echoed through the canyon. As Father Sam tried to pull the

carcass off the hysterical cowboy, at least nine more of the creatures swooped down from

the mountains. Shots rang out as the trail hands began to wake up and fire back at the

creatures. One of the creatures tried grabbing Sutter. He drew his revolver and fired a wild

shot which hit the creature.

“Protect the herd!” He yelled, “We can’t let those critters steal our beeves.”

Nobody said anything back as they continued to fend off the swooping creatures. The

Longhorns were too big for them to snatch up, but the trail hands were easy targets. More

shots echoed through the canyon as the creatures had flown off into the night. The Lazy S

crew had only suffered one casualty, who had been picked up by one of the creatures and

dropped onto the rocks of the canyon floor. He had cracked his skull when he hit the rocks.

Miraculously, the herd had not stampeded during the attack, despite all the wild shooting.

As the herd could only travel in two directions, it was fairly easy to round them up again.

The following morning, the drifters were met by Sutter and Abby.

“I want you folks to ride ahead.” He instructed, “Maybe we can avoid dead -ends and

backtracking as we move further into the canyon.”

The drifters nodded in agreement, but Father Sam elected to stay behind and maintain the

chuck wagon.

By midday, the drifters had not made much progress. That was quickly forgotten about

when they heard the sounds of sustained gunfire echoing from the north.

“It sounds like outlaws.” Dr Lightning concluded, “I’ve modified my Aetheric Static

Compressor to do something impressive.”

He fiddled with several dials on the device he carried with him. The other drifters watched

as he fired it across the river. Rather than the standard burst of electricity the gun normally

emitted, this time it fired a glowing orb which flew across the river and exploded when it

came into contact with the rocks on the other side.

“Save the juice for that thing.” Gabriella warned, “We might need a few salvos of those.”

As she listened to the sounds of gunfire, she heard a lot of it, almost like a pitched battle.

They spurred their horses forward and came across an immense sight in the canyon

ahead: Two heavily armed groups were squaring off with one another over a railroad

trestle that crossed Wind River. One group was using flamethrowers, Gatling weapons,

and a wide array of other outlandish mechanical devices. The other was not as well-

equipped but had an advantage in sheer numbers. They were not in the mood to takeprisoners.



“They haven’t noticed us yet.” Gabriella stated in a hushed tone, “Perhaps we could sneak

around.”

“They look like two of the rail companies.” Plays added.

The drifters observed the skirmish. To the east of the trestle lay a pair of tents atop the

high ground. A flagpole was flying a banner depicting several smokestacks – the emblemof Wasatch. To the west, on the opposite shore, a similar layout was in place, but the

banner was of two Chinese dragons encircling each other on a green background. This

was the Iron Dragon Company’s logo.

“Do you think that Emmerich guy has something to do with this?” Shady Doug pondered.

“Possibly.” Gabriella replied. She led the group on. They caught sight of numerous armed

patrols watching them. They were watching them, but ignoring them. It was as if the

drifters weren’t there. As they rode, they passed a makeshift field hospital set up by the rail

gang. Dead and dying gunhands were haphazardly laid out on the ground. A corpsmanwas wandering amongst them in a vain attempt to ease their suffering. Gabriella looked

down. Their wounds were horrific and obviously mortal. She felt nauseous, but was able to

surpass it.

As the drifters reached the Wasatch command tent, they found it to be substantial.

However, the fabric was long faded and tattered, as if the tent had stood for years against

the elements. Likewise, the Wasatch banner outside was badly weathered and frayed, and

the pole from which it flew was sun-dried and cracked.

Gabriella gingerly peered inside. The Wasatch commander was speaking to another enforcer. He seemed weary, almost saddened at the carnage taking place in the canyon,

but was resigned to do his duty.

“Our orders are to hold Kang’s forces here as long as we can.” The commander said.

“We can hold them until hell busts loose, but I don’t think we can beat them.” His

subordinate answered, “There’s just too many and they ain’t showin’ any signs of retreat.”

“As long as that bridge stands, we keep fighting.”

As they spoke, Gabriella turned to see someone running towards her. It looked like acourier delivering a report from the battlefield. She was right in front of him, but he wasn’t

taking any notice. When she held out her hand to halt him, the courier ran right through

her.

“What is going on here?” she asked herself, almost in shock from what she had seen.



Chapter 9 – Battlefield of the DamnedThe other drifters had seen what had happened, so there was no need for Gabriella to

explain anything: The battle was being fought by ghosts.

“We’ll have no chance of getting a herd through this place.” Dr Lightning stated.

“How do we get rid of everyone, then?” Gabriella returned, “We can’t kill the ghosts, but

there’s no other way around here.”

“Perhaps Doug has an idea.” Plays suggested.

“I don’t know.” Shady Doug replied, “These people seemed to have been doing a lot of

fighting for some trestle.”

“Welcome to the Rail Wars.” Gabriella muttered.

“Well, I may have learned about some occult stories from that southern rag, the

Tombstone Epitaph.” Doug pondered, “If these people fought this battle a long time ago,

perhaps there is something anchoring them to here. That is seen as a common similarity

between ghost tales.”

“I heard the commander say something about keeping up the conflict as long as the trestle

stands.” Gabriella pondered. It came to her immediately.

“Of course! As long as the bridge is standing, they will keep fighting. The bridge is the

anchor!” “So?” Dr Lightning commented.

“So, we have to destroy the bridge.” Gabriella explained, “Then maybe those ghosts will

take their fight somewhere else.”

Gabriella looked at the trestle from afar.

“Do you know anything about rails?” Shady Doug asked.

“Black River did not employ me to lay tracks.” Gabriella replied, “They hired me to shoot

people. However, I do recall having to protect engineers as they built a trestle. That does

not look like one he would want to run a train across.”

While her experience in the field wasn’t great, she was r ight: The trestle was not well-

constructed. Wasatch had been putting more effort into making the trestle look like a viable

bridge than they did actually making it.

“I think that the lower midsection is pretty tempting.” Dr Lightning muttered, “You may not

have built a bridge, but I’m sure you’ve blown one up before, knowing your background.”

Plays folded his arms. “You’d need to do some significant damage to bring it down. Itwould take days to chop that down.” He muttered.



“Forget that.” Gabriella replied, “We’d need some dynamite.”

“Like this?” Shady Doug called from one of the other tents. The drifters rushed to meet

him. There was a dusty crate at the back of the tent covered by debris. Inside were 24

sticks of old dynamite, coated with a clear a liquid. Dr Lightning rushed forward to take a

closer look.

“That’s not a good idea.” He hissed intently, “These are sweating.”

The others looked at him with bewilderment.

“These sticks have been unused for a long period.” He explained, “When that happens,

they begin to sweat nitro-glycerine.”

“Is it enough to bring down a bridge?” Gabriella asked.

“Yes, but it is highly unstable. Drop it, or even just subject it to a severe enough bump and

you can guess the outcome.”

“Leave the horses.” Gabriella ordered, “We don’t want them being spooked.”

With that, she and Plays lifted up the crate and hauled it out of the tent.

As they descended into the battlefield, things only got worse before they got better. Stray

bullets flew past their heads, as if they were being fired by any mundane threat. As they

moved, Dr Lightning was hit in the torso by a rifle round. He stumbled back and cried out in

pain. Shady Doug ran over and picked him up.

“Get him out of here!” Gabriella yelled, “Plays and I will take out the bridge!”

Shady Doug nodded as he dragged Dr Lightning to safety.

Gabriella and Plays slowly made their way through the battlefield. It was at least 120 yards

from the Wasatch command post to the waterline, their intended spot to plant the

dynamite. They had considered running, but had narrowly avoided a disaster when

Gabriella stumbled. After several long, fear-filled minutes of dodging phantom bullets and

keeping the dynamite steady, they were getting close to the shoreline. As they drew

closer, they didn’t catch sight of what was hiding in the dark water under bridge. Some

grotesque creature came roaring and babbling at the pair as they came closer. Gabriella

looked on with terror. It looked like six corpses mangled together in a horrifying mass. To

make things worse, it looked like it was mad.

“What is that thing?” Plays asked. Gabriella drew her revolver . Her hands were shaking

uncontrollably. A wild shot hit one of the bodies, but did nothing to damage the creature in

any way.



Chapter 10 – The End of the TrailFrom the trestle, it was barely another day’s travel to the northern end of the canyon. The

Wind River shortly gave way to the Bighorn River. The ride north to the Bighorn River

Basin was a relatively peaceful ride. Dr Lightning was able to recover with Abby’s help,

along with that of Shady Doug and Father Sam.

Sutter assembled the drifters as they reached the vicinity of the town of Dirtwater.

“My land grant is in this area.” He addressed, “ Anybody who wants to leave my services is

now welcome to do so, or you can opt to remain here and help with getting the place set

up.”

“I thank you for the opportunity.” Gabriella stated, “But I’m staying. This is much better than

gun slinging for the railroads. Besides, we’re part owners of the herd now.”

“In that case, you are welcome to stay.” Sutter grinned, “ And if you help me build up the

ranch, I’ll let your cattle graze my land.”

Gabriella shook Sutter ’s hand in agreement, followed by the other drifters, one by one.

“We have been through a lot together.” Abby stated, “I’m glad you have been with us.”

Gabriella smiled at her. Over the months, Abby had looked upon her as a mother figure.

“I think I might just retire to here.” Shady Doug remarked.

To be concluded in ‘Range Wars’…

Original Story by John Goff, with additional material by Matthew Cutter and Piotr Korys

Setting by Shane Lacy Hensley

High Plains Drovers

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