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Let it be known,
On this day, May the 30th, Year of Our Lord 1861, in the town of Little Neck Missouri, Doran Flynn and Gabriel Armistead are forthwith inducted into the U.S. Marshalls.
Sponsored and witnessed by Marshall Jedediah Driscoll.
The grizzled old marshall replaces the pen in the inkwell and blows across the page to dry the ink. He holds the paper up for one of the men to take it.
"This makes your manhunt legal. If it were me, I'd be looking for another gun or two afore I took on a venture of this magnitude."
"Now I ain't a man to give unwanted advice, but word is there's a chinaman stayin' over t'th' general store looking for reprisal 'gainst the Judd-Mattlock gang."
"Now, the Marshalls'd never give a star to a chink, but it's said he can hold his own in a fight. You may want to talk to him."
"Yes, sir. We do need all the help we can get. I will see if this man will aid us, then begin investigating the gang. I suppose it would be best to get started as soon as possible."
He begins to leave before pausing to say, "Is there any information about the gang that we have so far beyond the obvious? Anything at all would be helpful."
Gabe reaches out and takes the paper. He has old Marshall Burns's star but no papers saying he was official. The weathered cavalry man briefly scans the note before folding it up carefully and tucking it in a pocket on the inside of his vest.
He gives Flynn a sideways nod. "I'll take whatever help I can get. Goin' in outnumbered six ta two ain't my idea of a winnin' strategy."
Meng Ren Rui finishes patching the rattlesnake bite on a quietly whimpering horse. Ol' Man Robinson, owner of the General Store, thought that he had broken his ankle, and wanted to put him down, but Meng convinced him otherwise. Rising to his feet and wiping his hands on a stained handkerchief, Meng gives Mr. Robinson a small bottle and gives him some instructions. There would be no cash for this work, as there seldom was, but the Ol' man had a fair heart and waived Meng's grocery bill. Meng Gathered his things and cast a glance at the sky: the sun was nearing its last quarter of light. The Sheriff was probably gathering a posse to go after the Judd-Matlock gang right then, so the flyers had been announcing for the past week, but it seemed that few in the town were going to show up.
Two years ago...
Meng shook his head suddenly. He had taken an oath to never fight again. How foolish.
Bandits, innocents, soldiers, and barbarians, even in this strange place. People are all the same, it is simply their actions that make them different.
Were it so simple..
Gabe nods at the marshal, recognizing a man who wants people out of his office. "That's the way we'll head, then. G'bye, marshal." He gestures with his head at the door and starts walking out, waiting for Flynn to catch up on the planks that served as a sidewalk outside.
"Right, then..."
Flynn follows Gabe out of the door, surveying the street before starting to walk to the general store.
Waiting just outside the door is an enormous dog lolling on the sidewalk. As Gabe comes out the dog sits up, suddenly alert. Gabe grins at the massive, shaggy animal and kneels down to slip it a piece of jerky and ruffle the fur on its head. "Brownie, this is Flynn. Flynn, this here's Brownie." The origin of the dog's name isn't immediately apparent, since the dog is grey as gunmetal, not brown. Flynn, an Irishman, might even recognize the breed- the dog was an Irish Wolfhound.
Gabe stands and walks off down the sidewalk with Flynn, Brownie trailing behind. His worn in cavalry boots clomp on the wood of the sidewalk as he and Flynn make their way to the general store. He reaches into a pocket and takes out Marshal Burns's star, looking at it for a couple of strides before pinning it to his chest. He looks over at Flynn and shrugs. "Figured I might as well wear the star since we're official now. You ever done anything like this before? Bounty huntin'? Trackin' men?"
"Well, good to meet you, Brownie."
Flynn walks with Gabe. He nods and also takes out his star, pinning it on, replying, "I am not one for violence, so I suppose I have not. That said, I have my reasons for making an exception to that, and I can handle myself. I do know my way around a gun, as I did a bit of a repair business on the side. I figure that and a few other skills I picked up over the years will be enough that I should be far from a liability. How about yourself?"
Gabe shrugs. "Was a cavalry scout. An' I been a tracker for tha Marshals before. Was a deputy fer a while, too."[b] Gabe glances over at Flynn. [b]"So you could say I have." He taps the star on his chest. "But I never wore this star before. It's diff'rent, goin' 'round as a U.S. Marshal. Wild Bill Hickock an' tha Earp boys've wore this star." He shrugs again. "It's a hell of a thing, is what I'm sayin'."
"It is definitely an honor. I hope I can live up to it."
Eventually the trio arrives at the General Store. Gabe heads on inside to ask around for the stray celestial.
The celestial Meng can be found behind the general store, piling his stores on a tired but determined looking mule. He spins around at a whistle, clearly being shaken from his thoughts. His eyes settle around, like they don't quite know what to focus on, lingering a while on Gabe and a little longer on Brownie. With a light frown he turns back to what he was doing. You must be Sherriff's hunting party. Imagine you have another man too. Hope he looks better, so far Dog looks best. He tosses a piece of jerky over his shoulder. It looks freshly made, and delicious. I've decided. Good thing I am coming with you. As he finishes tying the pack, he takes the mule's lead line and begins to walk to the front of the general store. If Gabe looks closely, he sees Meng flash him a friendly, if quick, grin. They also said he had a curious sense of humor.