The old-timer's eyes finally flickered when he heard the name Murfree Brood.

  He scrutinized the three of them with curiosity, then let out a mocking chuckle. "Heh, people these days sure are brave, asking about the Murfree Brood."

  "Our bravery ain't got nothing to do with you. Just tell us what you know." Arthur snapped, his patience wearing thin.

  "Heh, don't worry, I'll tell ya."

  The old man shook his head dismissively, then slowly began, "That family's a bunch of cannibals. They hole up in a cave at the top of Roanoke Ridge."

  He pointed west. "Up there on the mountain. If you got the guts to climb it, just follow the trail to the top. You'll find 'em soon enough."

  "They've been terrorizing this area for years, and their numbers keep growing. Must be close to fifty of 'em by now. God knows how many merchants and travelers they've snatched up."

  Stephen, looking puzzled, "I've noticed the guards at Annesburg aren't a small amount, but no one wants to destroy them?"

  "Wipe them out? Why would they do that?"

  The old man chuckled. "With them around, the merchants here don't have no competition. The guards and police get more handouts from the government and the bigwigs. Ain't that right?"

  Stephen was stunned. Was this the Wild West version of "keeping the enemy alive to get money"?

  Turns out, every scum in the world are the same when it comes to being rotten.

  "You're saying... the police and the company are letting it happen..." Rafael charged forward, grabbing the old man's collar.

  Stephen and Arthur quickly pulled Rafael back, but the old man didn't get angry. Instead, he laughed, "Letting it happen? They even deliver supplies and weapons to those folks on a regular basis!"

  "Anyone the competitors send here always gets hit by the Murfree Brood in the mountains, and no one can say a thing about it."

  At these words, Rafael nearly collapsed.

  He never imagined that the real culprits behind his family's ruin were from his own company!

  The old man calmly smoothed out his clothes and pulled a map from under the table.

  "Twenty dollars, and this map of the Beaver Hollow is yours. If you don't find what you're looking for there... well, that's a pity..."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  One look at Rafael, and the old man understood. Another poor soul whose family had been taken.

  Stephen didn't argue. He slapped down the money, grabbed the map, and, with Arthur's help, got the unsteady Rafael out of there.

  They found a quiet spot for Rafael to sit.

  Rafael was still out of it. Arthur stood to the side, smoking a cigarette, while Stephen studied the map.

  The old man was a man of his word, for sure. The map had a very detailed depiction of where Beaver Hollow was.

  Even the locations where the Murfree Brood might be were marked.

  It's easy to do things if you have a map.

  "So, what do we do? Just storm the place?" Arthur asked, getting impatient.

  This thing was becoming way too big.

  They were two people, and three when they considered Rafael's catatonic state.

  It's absolute insanity that they're storming a cannibal fort filled with people.

  "You guys can leave."

  Before Stephen could answer, Rafael, head down, said these words first.

  Stephen and Arthur looked at his tear-stained face. He said, "I can't let you get hurt for me. You're good people, and I'm grateful."

  "I... I don't know how to repay you, but I can't let you go die with me..."

  Stephen looked at the broken man. Rafael couldn't let them get killed so he must do it himself.

  Arthur flicked his cigarette butt into the lake and turned to Rafael. "Don't worry about it. They're just some small-time thugs."

  "Take a look at the guy next to you. He's the best bounty hunter in the West."

  Arthur pointed to Stephen and smiled. "So, you don't need to worry. We'll help you."

  Stephen shook his head and put away the map. "We're heading straight for Beaver Hollow. That's where we're most likely to find them."

  "Just the three of us?" Rafael asked dumbly.

  Stephen pulled a spare lever-action rifle from his saddle and handed it to him. "With this, the three of us are enough."

  Rafael grabbed the rifle, a spark of hope in his eyes. He wiped away his tears and nodded firmly.

  The three of them set off again, with Stephen leading the way on his horse.

  They rode slowly up the trail. According to the map, Beaver Hollow was on the summit.

  About halfway up, Stephen stopped, pointing to the trees ahead. "Look, is that smoke up ahead?"

  Arthur and Rafael looked in the direction Stephen pointed.

  Sure enough, a wisp of smoke curled into the air. Someone was camping in the wilderness.

  "With the Murfree Brood around, folks don't dare camp around here,"

  Arthur said, "Could be them. Should we check it out?"

  Stephen nodded. "Definitely. If it's them, we can ask for directions while we're at it."

  "Let them know that death is coming."

  Without a word, Arthur studied the smoke. The spot wasn't too far off.

  Not wanting to spook them, the three dismounted and walked the rest of the way with their weapons.

  The mountain was hard to walk through. The whole area was a mess of bushes and rocks, some spots even looked hard to plant the foot down on.

  Stephen carefully followed Arthur's footsteps.

  Rafael stumbled along behind Stephen, falling every few steps.

  Stephen reached back and grabbed Rafael's arm. The two of them got to the dirt hill through helping each other.

  "There's five people,"

  Arthur, hidden behind a bush, gripped his pistol, eyes glued to the five ahead.

  "We gotta leave one alive to question,"

  Stephen said softly. "And we better not use guns. Beaver Hollow isn't that far away. Gunshots might alert them."

  "If we're not using guns, it's up to you,"

  Arthur holstered his revolver and drew his knife. "I'll take out the lookout. The rest is up to you."

  "Leave it to me."

  Stephen pulled out his blade, a grin spreading across his face.