The Cursed West

A side note, this story is completely based on a D&D campaign I've written myself. Thank you for reading, it means a lot to me.

Cold, dry, winter air filled the tavern. It was dimly lit only by a few lanterns and a fire in the chimney that resided in the corner of the bar. The gnome barkeep threw another log into the fire before returning behind the bar. Women attempting to woo men for a mere buck, men falling for it in the busy tavern. Cards in hand, Hector sat in the seat at the poker table with three other male individuals, earning some money to cover dinner and Tito's medicine. He stared at his cards, Hector knew he already had the game. In his hands, was a royal flush. Hector held his stoic expression, falsifying nervousness with every play and card laid out on the table. Hector was a human in his early 30's, a thick goatee, medium length hair usually tied low. One of the men looked up at Hector and the others at the table. A smirk seen through his thick dark beard and mustache. The man threw down his cards.

"A flush, gentlemen," the man said, gazing at the money in the middle of the table. The other two men sighed, tossing down their cards. The man raised his brow at Hector, who was now wearing a smirk. Hector set down his cards. The man saw the royal flush, his expression hardened, his anger rising. Hector began taking the money from the table, shoving the bills into his coat pockets. "You cheated."

"How so?" Hector asked, "it's cards. I don't have any tricks up my sleeve, I just have a good poker face, and you were foolish enough to believe it." This response didn't sit well with the man. His face twisted with rage, his yellow broken teeth gritted. He stood curtly, his chair knocked back a foot behind him, he slammed his fists onto the table, making a loud 'thump'. Conversations around the tavern immediately stopped, folk around them paying close attention.

"Put the money back," the man demanded. Hector's expression shifted to amusement. A small chuckle escaped his lips, he stood, putting on his hat. Hector smiled at the enraged man. Hector believed his anger was amusing.

"I'm not doing that, partner." Hector replied, his hand hovering above the revolver in the holster on his right hip. The man took notice of this, and immediately grabbed his dagger. Hector glanced at his dagger, seemingly disbelieving that he would actually harm him over a few dollars. "Are you truly that desperate?"

By this point, a small group began surrounding the poker table. Hector looked up at them before returning his gaze to the angry man. "No, I'm not desperate for money, but you wronged me, I don't take too kindly to that."

"I didn't treat you as such. We played a game, friend. You lost. Don't be sore about it. It's not doing any good," Hector stated, his tone firm. The man's anger only seemed to rise at his words. The man gripped his dagger, and attempted to rush it into Hector's side. Hector caught the man's wrist, kicked his feet from under him. As the man fell, the dagger dropped, and Hector caught it, quickly kneeling down above the man with the dagger in hand, pointed the blade first at his neck. "Now then, are we done playing?"

The man's expression turned one of fear and panic. He held his hands up, conceding to Hector, panting slightly, "okay, okay, keep it."

Hector smiled. He set the dagger atop the man's chest before standing up, tipping his hat to everyone gathered around them, before heading out of the tavern, no longer really feeling welcomed. As he stepped outside, the cool winter wind felt as if it were cutting his face. The wind harshly closed the doors behind him. He grabbed a hand rolled cigarette from the pack in his pocket, retrieving a match to go along with it. Hector struck the match against his boot before lighting his cigarette. He began walking home, occasionally taking a drawl from his cigarette. It began raining and hailing, putting out Hector's cherry in the cigarette. Hector sighed, tossing the cigarette to his sides as he walked the dirt road that began to get muddy. Finally, he approached his horse, Lucky.

Lucky was a spotted Morgan horse. He climbed up, setting his feet in the stirrups before leading the horse back to him and Tito's homestead. On his way there, he pulled on Lucky's reigns at the sight of a woman and her small daughter out in the rain. Hector sighed, he unzipped his satchel, looking in the pocket where he kept his money. He fished out a dollar, and dismounted Lucky, approaching them. The woman looked up at Hector, slightly startled. Hector handed the woman the dollar.

"Here, get you and your daughter out of this rain," Hector said softly, which was slightly uncharacteristic of him. The woman's face lit up, she was incredibly thankful, she hesitated before reaching out, taking the dollar.

"I... Thank you, sir." She almost whispered. A feeling of shame settled within her, Hector picked up on it, he seemed sad by it.

"Can I ask, what happened?" Hector asked. The woman slowly let go of her daughter and let out a heavy sigh, her eyes shut, a regretful look on her face.

"...My husband, tried to kill us. So I off'ed the bastard." The woman answered honestly. This didn't surprise Hector, the frontier was a cruel place. Hector sighed, taking off his hat briefly to cool off the top of his head.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, young lady." Hector replied, adjusting his hat. The woman nodded curtly, showing appreciation. Hector nodded back, giving them one last glance before heading back to the horse, and continuing his trek home. Finally, Hector reached the homestead. It was overgrown, and the woods nearby held troubling wildlife. Bears, skunks, cougars, Hector looked between the front porch a lantern illuminated, and the woods. He really needed to check his traps. He sighed, conceding to his responsibilities. He walked into the neck of the woods, checking his snare traps.

He carefully untangled a skunk from the trap, and a few rabbits from his pitfall trap. He tied the carcasses to his rope, slinging them on his back before heading inside the homestead. He entered, taking his shoes off at the door. He entered the kitchen. Seeing Tito sitting at the table, drinking some tea. Hector looked at him apologetically as he set the dead animals down on the counter. Hector took off his hat and shirt, they were soaked from the rain. He took note that Tito recently cleaned the house, when he was supposed to be on bedrest. This irritated Hector, but he held his tongue about it, being grateful that he'd just done it. Tito was five years younger than his brother, who usually kept a clean shaven face, but a stubble had grown from his fatigue, and his hair reached a bit passed his shoulders.

"Sorry it took so long," Hector told Tito, "we've got dinner, though."

Tito looked between him and the dead animals, "thank goodness for that."

Hector grabbed the knife from his sheath, slicing open the animals, cutting the edible meat from them, taking mental notes to keep the pelt for winter clothing. Hector drained the blood into a bucket, prepping the dinner. He lit the wooden stove, grabbing a pan for the meat. Tito let out a heavy cough that he covered, gasping for air between each cough. Hector paused his movements as he heard his brother's cough, a concern look in his eyes.

"Did you take your medicine, brother?" Hector asked as he resumed cutting the meat. Tito glanced at him, his cough finally dying down. Tito looked apologetic, mentally answering 'no' to the question. This slightly irritated Hector, he fully turned to Tito, seeing his expression, "and why not?"

"I... Haven't crafted it yet," Tito admitted sheepishly, looking down, afraid of being scolded for his actions. Hector's expression softened for a moment before he sighed.

"Once I get done with dinner, I'll craft it." Hector told Tito. Tito nodded, grateful for his older brother. He finished the last sip of his drink before bringing the cup to the tap, washing it out, Hector looked over at Tito, then back at the meat he was cutting. Tito seemed a bit paler, his eyes bloodshot. Hector knew Tito's health was getting to the danger zone again. He sighed, cutting the meat faster, he needed to hurry and make Tito's medicine. He threw the meat into the pan, stirring it and seasoning it as it cooked on the wood stove. Tito began grabbing herbs, prepping them into the medicine. Hector turned slightly to look at Tito before returning his attention to the food, "I thought you were going to let me handle that."

"I'm more than capable, brother. But, thank you. Your efforts don't go amiss." Tito said as he began crushing the herbs. Hector suppressed his sigh, stirring the meat before grabbing a few wooden bowls from the cupboard, dividing the dinner between them. Hector grabbed two forks from the shelf, and handed Tito his plate. Tito looked up from the herbs, taking the plate, setting it in front of him at the table. "Thank you."

The next day...

Hector woke up to the smell of... bacon and eggs? He quickly sat up in his cot, rushing to his feet. He grabbed his clothes from the floor, getting dressed before exiting his bedroom, his track quick to the kitchen. Hector saw Tito at the wooden stove, making scrambled eggs and bacon, Hector's face lit up joyfully at the sight. Tito turned from his cooking to Hector, a smile on his face.

"Where did you get the food?" Hector asked, smiling widely.

"Stole it from the markets this morning," Tito replied. His face seemed to be more colorful today, his health seemed to improve from his last dose of medicine. Something Hector was grateful for. Hector sat down at the table, looking through the window.

"Good job," Hector told him, a hint of pride in his tone. Tito set Hector's plate in front of him, before sitting across at the table from Hector. Hector nodded, showing appreciation before taking a bite of his bacon. Crispy. They ate together before Hector handled the dishes. He grabbed his coat that finally dried from the coat rack. Tito glanced up at him from the table, raising his brow.

"Heading out already?" Tito asked.

"Yeah. I got a couple of things I need to do, brother. Not to worry, I'll be back in a bit." Hector said with a reassuring smile. Tito nodded, his gaze falling slightly. Hector took note of this, he was going to say something, but, instead, he slipped on his boots, grabbed his satchel from the coat rack, and headed out the front door of their homestead. The morning air ran chilly, and humid, Hector noticed all the morning dew glistening in the sunlight. He walked to his horse, at the hitch post on the side of the homestead. Taking some hay from the hack stack from the side of the house, feeding Lucky. Hector looked up at the shelf, grabbing the brush as Lucky ate. He brushed out Lucky thoroughly before tossing the brush back on the shelf, and mounted the horse. Hector headed into town, finding a hitching post quickly. He dismounted, tossing the reins around the post. He walked towards the tavern, the bulletin board between the tavern and sheriff's office caught his attention at the bold '$50,000 REWARD'. Hector took the poster. He knew this man, Larry Cook. They temporarily worked together at the tavern. He knew where his house was at that. Hector turned, went into the sheriff's office instead of the tavern. He approached the counter, the sheriff and a few deputies turned to look at Hector.

"Can we help you, son?" The sheriff asked. Hector held up the wanted poster, his expression in a slight concern. The jail looked dirty, cobwebs in all corners, the concrete walls beginning to crack, dust all over the hanging lanterns and plaques. Inmates in their cells, wearing tired expressions, their cheeks sunken in from either being starved or refusing what's been offered to them.

"Larry Cook, what did he do?" Hector asked. The sheriff and deputies looked at each other, sighing. The sheriff took off his hat.

"You know this fella?" The sheriff asked.

"We were colleagues at one point," Hector answered, folding up the wanted poster, stuffing it into his coat pocket. The sheriff set his hat on the mahogany desk beside him, opening the drawer in the desk, grabbing Larry Cook's file. He opened the folder, grabbing a long list of crimes that Larry Cook recently committed.

"Eighteen counts of murder, kidnapping, horse theft, train robbery, bank robbery, animal cruelty, twenty two cases of armed assault, and ten cases of unarmed assault." The sheriff read off before closing the file, setting it beside his hat on the desk. Hector's face drained. The man he once knew to be charming and witty, turned completely psychotic. Hector's gaze fell in thought. "So, are you going to catch him?"

"I... Might. If he's gotten dangerous, I may need a crew." Hector replied hesitantly. "What's his last known location?"

"At his homestead down the road. Slippery bastard escaped through a hatch." The sheriff replied. Hector slowly nodded. He glanced beside him, noticing a man pacing in the cell, he seemed distraught, like he'd been through the ringer recently. Hector gestured to the man.

"Who's he?" Hector asked the sheriff. The sheriff glanced at the man in the cell, his expression hardening.

"That piece of shit killed Reginald Howard. Charles Lumpkin." The sheriff replied. Hector's brows shot up in surprise. Reginald Howard was a notorious business man, who also had some underground shady slave trading, though it was never proven, and it was suspected Sheriff Harold was accepting bribes to keep the secret. Hector suppressed his smirk, he shook his head.

"What a shame," he feigned, "let him out and join me in my search for Larry, and I'll cut you in on the reward."

The sheriff seemed a bit surprised by this offer, but didn't immediately decline. His gaze drifted afar in thought. Sheriff Harold let out a long sigh, looking up at Hector. "...Alright."

Hector smiled at his agreement. He watched as Sheriff Harold made his way to his cell, fishing the cell key from his coat pocket, he looked at Hector, turning to him once more. "But, he's under your word. He mucks up? It's on you."

Hector nodded in agreement. The deal thickened, it made his anxiety rise a bit, but he didn't let it show, masking a stoic expression. Sheriff Harold turned back to the cell door, unlocking it, and opening it. Charles froze up, he stared at the open cell door, his expression appalled and disbelief. He slowly stepped out of the cell, Sheriff Harold shut it behind him. Charles looked at Hector, his mouth opened, but he struggled with his words. It made Hector smile.

"Thank you," Charles finally spoke. Hector curtly nodded.

"You can fight, then?" Hector asked, looking him up and down, getting a good view of his stature. Charles was pale, long brown hair, a small stubble, he looked young, yet something deeply disturbed him. He was slightly muscular, Hector took note he could probably hold his own in a pickle.

"I can," Charles confirmed. Sheriff Harold approached Charles, giving him his pack. Charles took the pack, nodding in gratitude as he swung the straps around his shoulders. Hector slid his hand into his coat pocket, slowly nodding.

"Alright then. You heard Sheriff Harold, you're under my authority until you can prove yourself that you can stray away from trouble. You'll be joining my brother and I at our homestead for the time being. Oh, and my name is Hector." Hector stated to Charles. He seemed like he wanted to protest this, he opened his mouth to, but knew he had no right to. Charles sighed, conceding.

"...Fine," he almost whispered in a tone of defeat. Hector almost felt sad by this, but if he was going to have that reward, he needed all the help he could get, no matter the cost. "...Do I get a cut?"

Hector nodded, "I'll give you eight-hundred."

"And for me?" Sheriff Harold asked, leaning against the wall near the cell. The deputies shook their head before exiting the front door of the sheriff's office, wanting no part of this corruption. Hector glanced at the Sheriff, thinking.

"Two hundred." Hector offered. Sheriff Harold nodded in agreement, extending his hand to him, offering Hector a handshake to seal the deal. Hector firmly shook his hand, taking note that Sheriff Harold had no callouses. No foot work, it seems. They let go of one another before Hector shifted his focus on Charles. "Let's get a drink. Celebrate your freedom."

Charles' mood lightened at that. He eagerly nodded, holding onto the strap of his pack. Charles gestured toward the door at Hector, indicating that he was more than ready to exit the jail, and start living a life of freedom. Hector nodded, waving bye to sheriff Harold before the two exited the building. They walked side by side up the dirt road next door to the tavern. They both entered and sat down at the bar. The gnome barkeep approached them. Hector was the first to speak, "Two ales, please."

"That'll be fifty cents." The male gnome told him, laying his hands on the bar. Hector reached into his coat pocket, handing the barkeep two quarters. The barkeep took the quarters and started on their drinks. The barkeep returned with two tankards of ale, setting it down in front of them. Hector nodded in appreciation, Charles picked up his drink and quickly began chugging it. Freedom tasted so sweet.

"So, what happened? What landed you in that cell?" Hector asked. Charles' expression turned solemn. His grip around the handle of the tankard tightened, a hint of anger in his eyes. His knuckles were white at this point.

"Reginald knew where Larry Cook resided. He didn't tell me. I begged, pleaded, but he just spat in my face, and told me to fuck off." Charles finally replied with anger in his tone, but also remorse. "My sister was one of Larry Cook's murder victims. I don't mind helping you. But I do want the last strike that takes him down."

This was surprising to Hector, but, it made him smile, knowing there was more motivation besides money to this man that he'd gotten freed from his sentence. "By all means then."

Charles lightly smiled at Hector's words, holding his tankard up in a mock cheers, but Hector obliged, clinking his cup against his before they both sipped their ales. Hector glanced around the tavern, he wasn't just there to support his drinking habit, he was on a mission to find an old pal of his that usually came to the tavern at this point of the day. He lifted his hand to the barkeep, who was wiping out a tankard. The barkeep set down his rag and empty tankard, approaching Hector and Charles once more. "Yessir?"

"You know Gary Rolan, yes?" Hector asked. The gnome visibly looked distressed at that name, a small sigh escaped his lips.

"I do, unfortunately." He replied.

"Great. Where is he?" Hector asked before sipping his ale. The barkeep gestured to the stairs to the second floor of the tavern.

"Should be up there." The barkeep replied. Hector nodded, sliding a nickel his way for the information. He finished off his ale, and grabbed a couple of quarters from his pocket, setting it on the bar next to Charles.

"Make sure we get a refill, friend." Hector said before standing from his seat, looking at the stairs. He headed to them, ascending up. He immediately saw Gary sitting on the plush red sofa, reading a book with a tankard of ale in hand. Gary, the red haired elf looked up at Hector, his brown eyes reflecting the sunlight streaming in from the window beside him. Gary smiled lightly, setting his book down on the table in front of him before standing, tankard still in hand.

"Old friend, what a pleasant surprise." Gary said with a smile that he was feigning. Hector rolled his eyes, not even bothering to hide his irritation.

"Save me the pleasantries. I need your help." Hector stated. The barbarian elf couldn't help but let out a small laugh at Hector's request, which made Hector's expression harden. "You owe me."

Gary's laughter died, and his expression shifted to irritation. "What do you want, Hector?"

Hector reached into his coat pocket, grabbing Larry's wanted poster, he handed it to Gary, who took the poster, he skimmed it before glancing back up at Hector, his expression shifting to determination, "what's my cut?"

"A thousand." Hector answered. This further tempted Gary. He handed Hector back the wanted poster, he took the parchment, folding it back up, placing it into his pocket.

"...Alright. I'm assuming you're wanting to recruit others?" Gary asked. Hector nodded in confirmation. Larry Cook wouldn't be working alone, not with the amount of death and tragedy he's caused. The death toll was high, and it wasn't slowing to a stop. "Okay, I'm pretty sure Sally is still here in room 3B, and... It's a long shot, but, my cousin might be up to it."

Hector took in the information. He heavily considered recruiting Tito, mostly to keep him close, but he couldn't put his little brother in danger. It was time to rely on old friends that he wasn't sure could be trusted. What choice did Hector have, though? Not have the proper herbs for Tito's medicine? There was no way Hector was going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Pushing his pride away, he nodded. "I'll talk to Sally, you get your cousin. Meet me back at me and Tito's homestead."

Gary nodded, mentally absorbing the information. He downed the rest of his ale, setting the tankard down, and returning the book to his satchel. He looked at Hector. His gaze dropped slightly, a remorseful look on his face. "...I am sorry. About before. I was insensitive to you and Tito's problems. Thought I couldn't count on you."

The sincere apology took Hector for a loop. Especially from a man who seemed like he was incapable of apologizing due to his massive ego. Hector hesitated to say anything, not knowing how to respond to such heavy words. "...Let's just put the past behind us, and make some money."

"Speaking of, how much are we offering my dear cousin?" Gary asked, closing up his satchel. Hector's eyes shifted to the side as he thought about it for a moment.

"A thousand as well." Hector responded. Gary nodded, gripping the strap of his satchel. Gary descended downstairs, and out of the tavern, a new determined look in his eyes. Recruitment was the easiest step. The next harsh step was explaining this task to Tito, and executing the quest. Hector sighed, leaning against the wall momentarily, letting his thoughts catch up with him. He grabbed the revolver from his holster, checking his charge crystals. He opened the hammer, looking at the arcane charge crystals that glowed purple. Still all six charges were available. He closed the hammer, retuning his revolver to his holster before descending downstairs. He approached Charles once more at the bar, grabbing his recently refilled cup, taking a large swig from it. His eyes scanned the tavern at each oak picnic table, he spotted the brunette woman, Sally. A rifle strapped to her back, her gloved hands wrapped tightly around a cup of ale.

"What happened?" Charles pulled Hector from his thoughts. Hector turned, looking at Charles.

"We got my friend recruited. He's working on recruiting his cousin, and I'm about to go chat up that woman about the job." Hector replied, gesturing to Sally. Charles raised his brow at the statement.

"You're sure we don't already have enough people? He's just one man." Charles pointed out. Hector's expression flattened at Charlie's words. He sipped his ale before responding.

"Look at what all he's done thus far. Surely he's not alone, they just haven't been able to depict who's working with him." Hector told him before setting down his tankard, "now then, wish me luck."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Good luck."

Hector slowly made his way to Sally. At one point, they worked together, but fate brought them in different paths. Sally had been back in town for a few months now, but Hector, being Hector, was nervous to approach, to see how she's been, especially after dodging her. It wasn't out of animosity. It was out of respect mostly. They'd had a falling out after Sally told Hector she was moving for a job that paid well, meaning Hector was on his own. It broke them. Hector didn't want to reopen old wounds, but this was important. Reward money like this could keep Tito's medicine afloat for a very long time. Hector cleared his throat, Sally hearing this, looked behind her from the newspaper she was reading, dropping the newspaper onto the table. A small smile appeared on her lips. She stood, pulling Hector into a tight hug, which shocked him, but it wasn't unwelcomed. He relaxed into her embrace, patting her back.

"Hector fucking Fuentes," Sally said, pulling away from him, but keeping hand on his shoulder, "how've you been?"

Hector smiled softly at Sally. "Same old, dear. And yourself?"

"Can't complain. No one would listen anyway." Sally joked as her hand dropped from Hector's shoulder. Hector briefly chortled at her words, he fished the wanted poster from his coat pocket, and handed it to Sally. Sally raised a brow, her curiosity peaking. She took the parchment, reading over it, then looked back up at Hector. "You... You want me to kill this sonuvabitch with you?"

"I do, Sally, if you're willing that is. I'll give you a good share of the reward." Hector attempted to persuade her. Sally looked back at the wanted poster, contemplating. She sighed, handing Hector back the poster, he took it, folding it back up, shoving it into his pockets. "Please. I really need this. For Tito."

Hector wasn't one to ask for anything. But clearly this was important to him. She considered Tito, his younger brother. Her expression softened slightly, she sighed, mentally battling with herself. She finally reluctantly nodded. "...Alright."

Hector couldn't help but to smile at her words, and hurt at her reluctance. He knew there was a past, between most of his friends and him. "...About before-."

"Don't, Hector. Let bygones be bygones." Sally told him. A brief moment of silence washed over them, a calamity as they smiled at each other.

"I appreciate you letting me off the hook like that. What's expected of me?" Hector asked, earning a small chuckle from Sally, she briefly grinned.

"How about another drink?" She asked.

"Sold," Hector replied with a softened expression.

Hope began to linger. Hector had recruited Charles, Gary, and now Sally, with the promise of one more individual joining them. They could have the upper hand on Larry Cook. The evidence pointed to Larry having a crew, but it's not yet proven. Cautious level heads would ensure the triumph. Hector mentally prepared his next move. Back to the homestead with everyone, plan, alert Tito of what was happening, and the start of investigating.