Chapter Text
The wind was blowing gently through the field, the desert grass dancing along as it drifted by, carrying the smell of gunpowder around the homestead. A small child had been practicing shooting his small rifle, father present to teach him the proper techniques. They had put targets on the fence to practice shooting at and several bales of hay behind to catch the bullets, but the boy was hitting everything else but the targets.
“Richarlyson,” He started, “you need to hold the barrel higher so you can actually hit the target, son.” Pac exclaimed, giving a slight laugh as he guided his son’s arms up. Richas looks in his direction and sighs, lowering the weapon.
“I’m trying, Pai. My arm is getting tired, and I don’t like when it jerks back.”
“I know, but when you get bigger, you’ll have more control, I promise. It takes a lot of practice.” Pac places a hand on Richarlyson’s shoulder and smiled, then looked back at the fence that, now, clearly needed to be replaced.
Pac stood tall with ebony locks that he usually pulled up to keep out of his face. His eyes were dark golden brown that sparkled in the light. He wore a black wide-brimmed hat with a yellow band around the base, a white shirt, and black trousers, paired with black dyed leather boots. Today was more of a casual day so he didn’t need his vest or chaps.
Pac lives on the Favela compound some distance outside of the town of Silverbrush. Richas belongs to all members of the compound, going between each house throughout the month. Pac owns the ranch, he grows various crops, houses chickens, raises cattle, and has sheep, which are owned by his neighbors, Tina and Bagi, seamstresses who run the clothes shop. They do repair work for anyone who needed their clothes hemmed or a hole patched up. They also hand make the items they sell and are very popular amongst the town-folk.
On the other side of the girls lives Cellbit and his partner, Roier. The two own Caselonas Saloon/Inn in town. Cellbit is a great talker and rents out the rooms for the Inn, and Roier puts on a great show spinning bottles and crafting specialty drinks. The Saloon is the place to go most nights, but every Saturday and Sunday, the showgirls do their routine, which is very popular and bring in good business.
Felps is the town priest, he lives at the church, which sat closer to town than the rest of the favela. He is always available for a chat and his easy-going attitude make confessions easy. He hosts Sunday dinners every week for anyone who is interested in joining, it was usually a popular choice.
Mike is the builder of the group, his land being close to Pac’s and bordering Bagi’s. He lives there with his wife, Mine, who would help Pac with the animals. He had a major part in building the houses, the barn, even the shooting range for Pac, who was an expert sharpshooter. He has entered and won many contests with his skills; he is the perfect teacher for Richas to learn how to shoot.
“I want to be done for now, Pai. Can I go to town and play?” Pac ruffles Richas’ curly locks and nods.
“Take your horse, and make sure to make your way home before sundown! Don’t tell Mister Halo that you can stay out with the firebugs again.” Pac didn’t need to be told who he was visiting. His best friends are Dapper and Pomme, who can usually be found with Bad Boy Halo (he’s anything but bad, he received the nickname after a childhood incident that Pac isn’t quite familiar with, but the name stuck). He receives an enthusiastic nod and watches Richas run to the barn to ready his horse. Mike exits his house and approaches Pac. Mike is the same height as Pac, a broader build with dark brown hair and matching eyes. He wears a white hat with green trim, green shirt, black trousers with dark brown leather chaps, and black dyed boots.
“Where is Richas headed to?” Mike asked Pac, who was still looking in the direction of the barn. The barn was central to all the Favela houses, everyone could keep their horses and gear in there, it was a shared space.
“He’s going to town to play for a little while. Did you need him? He did his chores with me already and practiced his shooting.”
“No no, I just saw him rush out of the barn on his horse. But I also need to go into town. I need supplies for the workshop. Why don’t you come? You were saying you needed something for your pistols, right?” Mike suggested, and he was right. Pac had mentioned he wanted some custom work done to the grip, and Missa was an expert craftsman when it came to detail work. He might as well visit the Sinfonia-Craft shop and discuss ideas with him.
Pac walks back to the house to put his leather chaps on over his trousers, then walks across the corral into the barn. Pac owns a white horse with brown patches and a dark brown mane named Nene. She was his first horse after moving out to the Quesadilla valley with the rest of the favela group. He grabs his saddle from the wall, sets it to her back and fastens it around her body. He’s always so gentle when he does anything with the animals, careful not to create unnecessary pain. He pulls himself up and nods to Mike, who is ready on his tan horse with black mane. He turns and heads out of the barn, Pac following behind him headed to town.
~~~~~~
It takes 10 minutes to reach the town of Silverbrush, they passed Richas and his friends at Verde creek along the way, giving a hearty wave toward them as they rode by. There is a corral in the shade with a water trough and hay to eat down the sides for horses to be left. The two men leave their horses tied in the corral and separate to take care of the tasks. Pac walks into the gun shop to find Phil at the counter wiping down the barrel of a shotgun. He notices Pac and smiles.
“Hello mate. How are you doing today?” Phil is a blonde man with sky blue eyes, a lean build, and stands a couple inches taller than Pac. He primarily wears black, with touches of crows incorporated in his look. Pac greets him with a smile and takes out his pistol and sets it on the counter.
“I’m doing well, thank you! A lovely spring we’re having.” Phil nods with a smile.
“Are the cattle at the hillside already?
“Yes, took them last week. I’ll go check on them in a month, but they’re usually fine with Antoine.”
From end of summer through winter, the cattle stay on the Ranch and are cared for by Pac. When spring arrives and the snow melts, they head to the Quesadilla hills to eat the fresh grass and enjoy the spring water that flows from the melting snow in the mountains. They are looked after by Antoine, who owns a good portion of the hillside and the creek. He and Pac have an arrangement made where Antoine allows the cattle on his property to eat the grass in exchange for coffee beans and tea that Pac grows during the spring. Antoine mixes the crushed beans with vanilla, peppers, and cocoa, bags them, and sells them at the farmers market on Wednesday’s. Sometimes he will brew some into a warm drink and give them out as samples. It’s a good exchange to make sure his cattle are okay.
“But getting down to business, do you think Missa could do some grip work for me? I want a new design made for my pistol here before the next competition.”
“I’ll ask him, he’s a little busy with other works for the Sheriff. What are you looking for?”
Pac pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Phil. “It’s a rose with some filigree surrounding. Do you think you could ask him for me?” Phil nods and sets the paper to the side.
“I’ll ask him for you. Why don’t you come back tomorrow. I should have an answer for you by then.” Pac grabs his gun and puts it back in the holster at his hip.
“Thank you, Phil! I’ll see you soon, then.” He tips his hat and leaves the shop.
While he’s in town, Pac might as well go to the general store to get a few things. He walks down main street and takes in the sounds of people talking, dogs barking, and the horses and carts rolling by on the road. He passes by the Sheriff’s office and can hear Sheriff Foolish talking with Deputy Tubbo about nothing important. The general store is on the corner of main street near the middle of town, not too far from the sheriff’s office. Pac enters to see Mouse at the counter. She greets him with a wave and Pac waves back.
“How are you Pac? Looking for anything in particular?” She asks. He slowly makes his way down the aisle, looking at the goods.
“Nothing specific, just looking to fill my cupboards.”
“Well Pac, I do have something for you, something you should keep in your back pocket.” Pac is intrigued. This was mouse’s way of saying she has gossip for him.
“Spill it, what is the fofoca?”
“Well, you should keep an extra eye on Sheriff Foolish and Mister Halo. It sounds like they’re at it again with their love hate relationship.”
“Oh, really now? It’s back on again?” Pac asks the high-pitched shop keeper, she nods.
“Those two just can’t figure themselves out. It’s crazy.” Pac agrees. They bicker a lot, but it’s clearly done out of deep care for each other. “Also, bandits have been active in neighboring towns, I was told to warn others to be prepared with ammunition and traps for the homestead.”
“Thanks for the heads up, Mouse! I’ll make sure I have more traps set. I’m always set with ammunition. I’ll grab these lemons, onions, and beans from you.” She rings him up, and he pays for his goods and nods at her. “I’ll see you soon, Mouse!”
“I have a show this Saturday, will you be there?” Mouse is also a showgirl in the weekend shows. She is very talented in singing and her dancing is fantastic. She’s great entertainment.
“Perhaps, we’ll have to see. Good luck if I don’t see you!” He leaves the building and heads back to his horse. He really doesn’t have anywhere else to visit in town. Mike is at the other end at Pierre’s blacksmith shop getting his supplies, they’ll most likely talk builds for a while, so Pac doesn't want to bother going down there. It’s time to head back home it looks like. He reaches his horse and unhooks him from the post in the corral. He puts his goods in the side saddle bag, hops up on her back, and takes off for home.
~~~~~~
Richas has made it home by nightfall and put his horse in the barn. Pac found him there, as he was working outside on the fences in the shooting range. Richas approaches him with a hug.
“Pai, what is for dinner tonight?”
“I have chicken and carrot stew. I put lemons in it, so it should taste good.” Richas isn’t too thrilled with stew, but Pac makes his meals taste good with the right spices, so it should taste fine. “Go inside and wash up, I’m going to finish cleaning up my mess and come in and we can eat.” Richas smiles and runs inside the house. He’s a good kid, so much fun to have around. It’s the final night with him before he runs off to Bagi and Tina’s.
Pac puts his tools away in the barn and closes everything up for the night. He makes sure the chickens are in the coop and the sheep are okay. The sheep are able to be outside for the night now that it’s spring, the dog is out with them. Pac will worry about improving the homestead tomorrow. He'll have to talk to the others to get ideas for better defenses against wildlife or bandits. He really wants to get everyone to practice shooting. They need to be able to protect one another, but it takes more convincing for others to try.
~~~~~~
It’s dark outside, coyotes can be heard in the distance. Across the desert, two black horses slowly make their way, unsure of where they are headed. A man sits upon the larger horse, slumped over groaning. He’s been riding for quite a while now, thirst and hunger a big factor in his groggy demeanor. His pants are stained red with blood, green bandana tied around his upper thigh. He’s trying not to sit on his right side, so his left hip is in great pain from all the pressure put on it. The smaller horse has a smaller rider, who looks tired, but otherwise fine. They pass the river and take the opportunity to clean up the wound on the taller and get something to drink. He can’t put pressure on his leg, so he hops down the left side and shuffles to the river and submerges himself. It’s cold, but anything is better than nothing.
“I think we’re out far enough.” He says to the smaller.
“Can we stop for the night somewhere? I’m really tired, pa.” He asks. The taller is sitting in the river with his eyes closed, trying to get relief from riding for so long. The two have been on the move for several days, making a small camp just wherever they stop and sleep on the ground, which hasn't been successful in any way. They're usually up within a couple hours and moving again. “There must be a town close by, the river is here.”
Smart kid.– Thinks the taller as he opens his eyes. “Let’s go a little further. You may be right.” The smaller reaches out to help him out of the river and back to his horse. He makes sure he’s back up before getting back on his.
The two head further east, about an hour before they find a barn. It’s dark, so no one is awake, he can see the sheep so there are people who live close by. He slides off his horse and pulls at the wood on the barn to create an opening. He doesn't want to go to the front and potentially cause a scene and get them caught. The other slides off, there is an old fence post behind the building so he ties up their horses to it and squeezes through the hole that was made, the bigger, grabbing his guitar from his horse, following after him. His guitar, much like it son, is his pride and joy. Someone could steal the horse, but the instrument stays with him. There is a lot of hay in the barn. It’s better than dirt and rocks. The man hops over to some loose hay on the ground and spreads it out for the boy. He takes what he can for himself and makes a bed as well.
"Here you go, son. I know it's not much, but it's better than the hard ground." He says, the boy yawns and thanks him. He lays down and falls right to sleep. The man lays on his left side and sighs.
“What a mess.” He mutters to himself. He doesn’t want to sleep so they can leave before being noticed, so he’ll just rest his eyes for a little bit. He just needs to rest his body; he’s exhausted and in pain. He just wants to get to a safer place for his son, he deserves so much…