Unwelcome Wagon Part 2

He turned his eyes back to what looked like their leader, the man with the gray beard, and spit some brown saliva from his chewing 'bacco onto the ground. "What's it gonna be?"

Vas looked to Tim like he was growing a second head with the overly masculine voice.

Jago ignored Tim's attempt at tough talk. “Well sweetheart that is one hell of a claim.” Jago chuckled, leaning on the wagon. “And not a single piece of tin on any of you.” He noted with a nod. “You got anything but wind and lead to back up that claim?”

Vas was working off work gloves jamming them in a back pocket before leaning on an oxen to settle the beast.

An uncomfortable silence settled and the men shifted uncomfortably in their saddles.

Patch was still under the wagon when he killed the welding torch. While he couldn't make out the particulars of the conversation while he was working, he could make as much of that the tone was tense. With the torch off, he could better get his bearing of what was going on. He slid the darn goggles onto his forehead just in time to hear the Captain's challenge to the 'visitors'. He knew he'd be dead to rights and completely unable to defend himself in his current position, what with his rifle up in the wagon and all. The mechanic shimmied his large frame out from under the vehicle coming up to his feet at the rear. He leaned against it trying desperately to look casual and not remotely as scared as he most definitely was. He glanced down to see if he could locate his weapon but didn't glance long so as not to look like he was looking for his weapon. Unfortunately, he didn't glance long enough so he wasn't able to spot it on his first go. It took two or three more 'casual' glances before he got a bead on it.

The tension in the air grew with Rottooth and Jago staring each other down.

Rottooth didn't have a claim, that much was obvious but they did outnumber Jagos crew. They only had some punk kid, some fat guy who looked like he lost his gun, the guy with the sore throat, the one man on the horse, and some fancy-looking chick. Then there was Jago himself.

Not exactly an intimidating bunch. Just the Captain's confidence was a bit concerning. He didn't know if he had balls of brass or if there was some trick at play.

"Well? What's your play?" Jago asked as Rottooth narrowed his eyes, clenched his jaw and his finger twitching on his gun.

Jago never claimed to be a good or a bad guy. Just someone scraping their little piece of sky for his and his own. But Jago was still a Merc at heart and he took somewhat of an ambivalent stance at shooting folk who crossed him and you don't get to live as long as he had by waiting for someone to shoot you first.

So for the record, Jago shot first and the guy he dubbed Rottooth went down with a smoking hole in his chest.

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