When The Ticking Stopped

[1] Cowboys and Gunfire

Karl found himself in a crowd of people, each one seemingly eager to get into town. They shoved past, one nearly knocking Karl to the ground. "Hey!" he cried, but he got no response from the busy patron.
"Why is everyone in such a rush?"
One of the crowd members turned to him, a look of surprise on his face. "Haven't you heard, boy? They say that gold is flowing down the rivers!" The crowd kept pushing until Karl found himself entering a little town called Tumble Town.

Karl watched as the people dispersed and headed in different directions. Some head to the saloon, some to the bank, and others to a small area that appeared to be a shopping district. Karl jumped as a surprisingly short man tapped him on the shoulder. Karl took note of a gun holstered to his hip, and a golden badge that shone in the bright sunlight.
"Well howdy! Name's Tim, I'm the sheriff here in Tumble Town. I ain't seen you around these parts, what's your name boy?"
Karl stared down at him, wondering how someone so short could be a respected sheriff.
"Oh, I'm- Karl. Karl Jacobs."
"Karl! Well I'll be, do you happen to have a brother that's been around here?"
Karl hesitated, unsure of whether he had a brother or not.
"I don't believe so?"
Sheriff Tim looked up at him, somewhat confused.
"My mistake I guess. I could've sworn I've seen a boy almost identical to you. It was just last week, I think." He stopped to check his watch, then continued, "Well since you're new here I'd normally give you the tour, but I'm afraid I must be on my way. I suppose you've heard about the bandits in town?"

Karl froze. Bandits? That couldn't be good.
"Uh, no. I don't think I have heard about these bandits."
The Sheriff gawked at Karl, as if he were the strangest thing in town. "You ain't heard about the bandits? Where are you coming from that you haven't heard of the Red Bandits?" Karl paused, unsure of how to answer. Luckily, the Sheriff continued, "Well, the Red Bandits is one of the most mischievous gangs in town. They were founded by some guy that used to live here, can't for the life of me remember his name, but he started the gang for revenge."
"Revenge?" Karl asked, "Revenge for what?"
The Sheriff just stared at Karl, as though he should already know all of this. But he sighed and continued.
"Revenge against an old friend of his. Ever since that gang was started the town kept getting robbed and eventually, everyone just left. After that, the man who founded it left too. No one has heard from him since. There's a rumor that he took his haul and started building some fancy mansion."
Karl tried to picture this man, a man bitter and seeking revenge against an old friend. A man with a grudge.
"Gang comes in and out of town, wreaking havoc wherever they go. The whole lot of em is trouble, but one particular member is very, very-"
"Pesky?" Karl tried.
"Yes, pesky is the word for it. Well I best be off, important sheriff things to do and all. But I tell ya, this Gold Rush? It'll be the revival of this here town. Just you wait, Tumble Town will breathe life again once more."
Karl watched the Sheriff check his watch once more and stride back towards the building he'd come from.
Karl noticed that the building was a saloon, and with a shrug of his shoulders followed suit.

Entering the saloon, the air was filled with the smell of alcohol and the sounds of patrons playing Poker, or loudly and drunkenly conversing. Karl also happened to notice that almost everyone in the saloon had a gun on them.
"Wow, does everyone here own a gun?"
"Of course!"
Karl turned to see a man with charcoal black hair sitting on a stool, clutching a shot glass.
"Everyone here has a gun or two, especially with all the chaos being brought by the Red Bandits. Why, I happen to own 6 of em!" He added the last bit with a smirk, seemingly taking pride in the number of firearms he owned.

The young man turned to Karl with an outstretched arm. "Name's Mason! And what might the name of a handsome stranger like you be?"
Karl felt his face get warm at the young man's words. Something about him seemed strangely familiar, almost like the comforting feeling of a fire's warmth. But there was also a burning passion, a dangerous feeling, that Karl sensed radiating from the boy. Like a forest fire that had grown out of hand.
"It's Karl," he responded, looking into the boy's eyes as his face grew hotter.
Mason seemed to take notice of the boy's flustered nature and chuckled to himself. He finished his drink in a single gulp and said, "Well, Karl, I'll be working in the mines for the day. Feel free to swing by and say hello."
And with that, Mason winked at Karl and began to walk toward the exit, leaving Karl feeling as though he swallowed hundreds of fluttering butterflies.
Mason stopped, and added, "You might need a pick though. There's a guy in the shopping district, goes by Q. He sells some fine picks. Tell him Mason sent ya."
Karl nodded, and watched as Mason left out the saloon doors. He smiled to himself. "Maybe I will pay him a visit,"