@silverf0xes
The crumpled telegram in Samuel’s hand is torn and water stained and while he can still make out his prospective employer’s name, the designated station is more difficult to decipher and so is retained merely as memory. The date thankfully remains intact but the time of Mr Daniel Adams arrival is lost entirely – that is why Samuel has been sitting at the train station for what now seems like most of the day, kicking at the sun bleached wooden boards and coughing up dust as every new train pulls in, before racing away again.
He knows Adams likely travelled from England by boat and is quite aware the destination port will have determined his time of arrival, but without a port name, he can do nothing more than sit at the station, smoke and wait.
Admittedly his Mustang, Diego, seems to have taken quite well to the horse he purchased with money wired to him by Mr Adams; a partially dappled Appaloosa of good breeding stock, one the man is quite welcome to trade, should it not suit his particular tastes, which he has led to believe are fairly refined. Having achieved a good deal on the mare, Samuel had admittedly spent the remainder of the money on a comfortable bed for the night and a decent bottle of whiskey, whiskey that is now responsible for his heavy head and dry mouth. Had he known the man wouldn’t show until past noon, he might have at least had time for a shave. Not that he’s looking to impress, mind, but he’s well aware that he looks like a man who slept rough out on the trail last night and not in a fancy guesthouse bed.
Running a comb through his hair, he tries to slick some of it down, but his mouth is so dry that a lick to his hand achieves nothing of note. In truth Sam still remains unaware of most of the details of this man’s visit, including which parts of the Colorado territory he means to explore and most importantly the reasons why. He has accepted the job on good faith, after being assured by a mutual acquaintance that all would be above board. The money is good and as far as Samuel can tell, the work is legal, acting as a guide and paid protection – easy money; it sure beats wrangling outlaws for a living.
Hearing the sound of another train fast approaching, Samuel places his hat back atop his head, pulls on his leather riding gloves and pats some of the dust off himself as he rises to stand for the fifth time this morning. Hopefully this time Mr Daniel Adams will actually emerge.
