Part. 15

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(F/N) groaned, it had been two days and his headache was still carrying. The still hungover outlaw, handed Reverend Swanson a couple of dollars, "And in return, you'll put in some good words with the big man?"

Swanson nodded and spoke in a slightly slurred voice, he was keeping his eyes on the money, "Ohh of course, my son, I have saved many a man for the right price." He quickly scurried off with (F/N)'s hard-earned dollars, no doubt to fuel his morphine addiction.

He didn't like enabling the Reverend but if it helped get him in better shape so be it, cause he needed it. (F/N) walked over to a nearby table and just sat there for a few minutes, Lenny walked by and waved at him, he had recovered a lot more, and it was nice having him back at camp. (F/N) waved back weakly, a voice behind him spoke up, "Still hungover?"

He looked over his shoulder, just in time for John to pat him on it and sit right next to him, he had a smug look on his face. (F/N) sighed, "A little bit."

John chuckled, the scars on his face flexed a bit, they still looked stupid, "I know a good cure for a hangover."

(F/N) raised an eyebrow, if he had a cure for this, then he wanted to know, "What is it?"

John's smile grew as he rattled off the remedy, "Some moldy oatmeal served in a dirty ash-tray."

(F/N) gagged thinking about the concoction, he had to stop himself from puking and turned away from the man, John burst out laughing, "I'm leaving."

The scarred outlaw raised a hand, "Wait, wait...I do need your help."

He sighed, he did need something to do, he had been pretty bored, "What do you need?"

John got a serious look on his face, "Uncle told me something about a train."

(F/N) raised an eyebrow, John leaned forward knowing he had the younger man hooked, "Well your woman..."

(F/N) interrupted, he spoke casually, "She's not my woman. She's a good friend."

John looked at (F/N), not quite believing him, "Mh-hm, anyway Mary-Beth overhead something about a train full of wealthy folk rolling down through Scarlett Meadows just south of the state border."

(F/N) nodded, he knew where he was going with this, "Yeah, I remember her telling me."

John smiled, as he continued with the plan, "Well what if they didn't make it to their destination with all their valuables."

The gunslinger whistled, those rich folk should have some money, some real money, "I like it...but how're we gonna stop a train?"

John nodded, he had obviously put a lot of thought into this, "What if we could force a train to stop? We get a wagon full of oil and put it on the tracks, they see it, then they either have to stop, or die. Ain't no train driver wants to be cooked alive."

(F/N) rested his head on his hand, he liked it but there was one glaring problem, "Where do we get a wagon full of oil?"

The scarred man smiled, "That's where you come in, I need you to steal one from that refinery nearby and bring it to an old rundown shack just over the border north of a place called Dewberry Creek. Can you do that?"

(F/N) nodded, he knew about that refinery in the middle of the heartlands, "I might need help, I've seen that refinery, they got armed guards at every entrance."

John cocked his head, "Take another guy if you need to. Just get it there quick. We're on the clock."

(F/N) got up from the table and walked over to Bullseye. He cracked his knuckles nervously, he was still on edge about what Lenny knew or rather what he thought was a joke. Micah Bell was his father, just thinking that made his skin crawl, he knew the feeling was mutual. (F/N) hated his other parent before he even knew him, his mother had made that so, but when he found out his father was a sadistic, racist, sexist, crazy, bully his hatred for the man only grew.

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