Things started off around Colchester's Harvest Festival. It'd been a good year and The Table Round was in rare form. Mayor Art had surely arranged one of the greatest shindigs this side of the Mississippi, and the town square was full of homesteaders preparing to celebrate a good year with a generous amount of corn beef and rye whiskey.
The homesteaders were getting restless, and were maybe a few minutes from starting a riot just to see if that'd be entertaining, when a sudden hush fell over everyone, as a redskin on a chestnut horse came riding right down the city street.
Now redskins weren't unwelcome in the town, as Mayor Art always held that Colchester was open to all men. But they weren't common neither, and this redskin wouldn't have been common even among his folk. He was a big injun, nearly a head taller than the tallest man there, and had a powerful set of arms on him. He was dressed in a long leather coat, covered in red dust, and had a great red hat with one green feather and one red feather. He weren't wearing no war paint, and he held out his hand as he came up the road to show he meant no harm, but there was on his hip the most massive revolver as ever man did see. It weren't quite the equal of Art's Hole-Puncher, mind you, but it was close, and it made folks draw aside a bit as he came riding, straight into the town square. Not a word did the injun speak, till his horse came right up before Mayor Art''s pavilion. Then the redskin pulled up his horse, and looked squarely up. "Greetings, Mayor of Colchester," he said, and injun or no, ain't no denyin' the man could speak fair. "I come with a challenge."
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