After another stretch of road, Stephen finally arrived on the outskirts of Blackwater. He knew he had arrived at his destination.
The style here was vastly different from the Heartlands. Everywhere he looked was parched earth. The wind whipped up dust storms, forcing Stephen to pull up his bandana to cover his nose and mouth.
The sparse vegetation consisted mostly of low shrubs. It felt like the legendary Wild West he'd heard about.
Stephen had been to Blackwater once before, chasing down an escaped convict, but that was it.
He wasn't fond of the environment around Blackwater. It was just too desolate for his liking.
He rode along the riverbank for a while until he finally saw the shadows of buildings in the distance.
He'd reached Blackwater. Instead of endless wilderness, he was surrounded by houses, farms, and ranches.
Unlike the filthy, dung-filled Valentine, Blackwater was thriving.
Blue cobblestones paved the streets, and the horses' hooves rang out on them with a "clippety-clop".
This made the town exceptionally clean and tidy compared to Valentine.
Being a port city, it had everything: movie theaters, photography studios, clothing stores, all of it.
The pedestrians strolling along the streets were elegantly dressed. Men wore smart suits, and women sported fancy dresses and carried parasols. It was obvious that these were the wealthy elite.
Of course, there were plenty of working stiffs, but even they looked relatively clean compared to those in other places.
One thing stood out, though: there wasn't a single person of color in sight.
No black people, no Asians, no Native Americans.
Blackwater had a serious problem with racial discrimination compared to other towns, which was another reason Stephen didn't like it.
Contrasting the prosperity, there was also a palpable tension in the air.
Police officers stood guard at nearly every intersection, and Pinkerton detectives in long coats questioned passersby one by one.
To avoid trouble, Stephen had stashed all his weapons under his saddle.
He'd already been questioned several times along the way.
Stephen found a decent stable and prepared to hand over his horse for a full massage and a good feeding.
Maybe it was the loving care of the stable owner in Valentine that had won her over, because she didn't resist entering the stable at all.
Without needing to be led, she clip-clopped her way inside.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
As usual, the white mare drew gasps of admiration from the stable owner, who repeatedly asked Stephen how much he'd sell her for.
Stephen still refused. Over the last several months she had become invaluable.
Whether for traveling long distances or reacting in dangerous situations, she was top-notch.
The owner shook his head with a sigh, saying this horse could easily fetch over $1000, and hoped Stephen might reconsider.
After settling his precious girl, Stephen left the stable and strolled down the street.
He decided to find a saloon to relax for a bit, then look for a place to buy a camera.
He hadn't forgotten why he was here.
He walked in the first saloon he could find that looked respectable.
The bar inside looked quite high end, reminiscent of the boutique restaurants back home.
Stephen ordered a light meal and as he finished he purchased a couple of beers, and sat at the bar chatting casually with the bartender.
In the course of their conversation, Stephen learned quite a bit about the Van der Linde gang in Blackwater.
The bartender mentioned the police had publicly killed one of the Van der Linde gang members and left his body hanging outside town for days.
The body was recently taken down but buried hastily by the police. There wasn't a prayer.
Bounty hunters also caught a redhead and stuck him in the jail on the north side of town. Word has it they are set to hang him in a few days.
Those must be Sean MacGuire and Mac Callander.
Stephen had heard Arthur talk about those two, often expressing sympathy for them.
He'd even said he wanted to do everything possible to save them, if the need presented itself.
Looks like that wasn’t ever going to be possible. One's already dead. And the other is in jail, soon to be hanged.
Looks like Arthur won’t ever be close to Blackwater.
Stephen decided he wasn’t interested in trying to save that unfortunate fella about to be hanged. It wasn’t his gig.
"So, is there anywhere in town to buy a camera?" Stephen casually slipped the bartender a couple of bills for a tip.
The promise of such a generous tip made the bartender even more enthusiastic.
"Sure thing, head down the street over there, and you’ll find a Kodak shop. They're selling the newest cameras. It’s small, fits in your pocket.
"When you're done taking pictures, you can mail them the film, and they'll develop them for you and package them up to be sent back," he elaborated.
"That convenient, huh?'' Stephen asked, intrigued, "Gotta figure that comes with a big price tag.”
The bartender responded as if it was just a matter of fact, “Sure does! But they'd say that comes from using the newest tech along with the best services out there."
"My boss even bought one! Ever since he purchased that camera he goes around in circles around Blackwater, looking to become some famous photographer,”
The bartender shrugged, resigned, and said, "But to me? He's just a businessman with money on his mind. All I see is his hunger for riches and being cheap! No art in there! None!"
Stephen half listened to the bartender's ranting about his boss while looking out at the rain, he suddenly felt relaxed.
The sky was opening up with torrential rainfall in June!
After a boom of thunder in the distance, people scrambled for cover, dodging the massive puddles gathering in the street.
A decent pub was a decent shelter.
Before he knew it, the saloon started filling with folks getting away from the streets.
As people stumbled in the bar tender couldn’t help himself from cracking a huge grin.
As long as they were inside he knew they would buy something,
It wasn't a hard sell, they’re all adults after all, it isn’t really up for debate.
The bartender then forced himself on folks peddling all sorts of drinks and food until his hand he used to get tips was worn numb.
Stephen noticed how crazy the streets looked as they cleared out with heavy rainfall, He felt the urge to sit down somewhere inside for awhile
Stephen was still getting sober but was feeling better and had a more pleasant feeling that lingered since arriving.
He stumbled and staggered upwards into the 21 table game section when he heard a commotion and the dealing of the deck. Stephen sat on a corner side with a seat opening and threw in the dice for the table action.
Sadly with multiple bursts from both decks, Stephen called the game a joke after a burst series of busts and cashed out what he threw into the pot originally
He said “Okay, Sleep…”
He took himself to his bed inside a room, turned with a soft flip on to his gut, and then went face diving hard into the dark until morning arrived.
