Hardened

Chapter I

On the Stanton train that led him to Gulchwood, Utah, Royce was relieved that his tiresome ride has ended. Unfortunately, not the end of it all. He finally rises from his seating and paces off the metal behemoth. Laying a foot outside he was presented with utter busy business. Figures were energized with movement and actions. The average man was checking his golden pocket watch for no particular reason. The average woman was dragging her offspring along; or fidgeting with her mirror, hair, or blouse.

Everyone else was doing the average peoples’ bidding. Niggers were hauling heavy loads in excruciating heat. Wetbacks were manning donkeys, carriages, or horses for their lazy asses. Chinamen were usually in the furnace with the train coal in their sweat quarters. But, Royce didn’t bother any of it.  He just glared at the yellow orb in the sky flashing beams of power at his new home and job. The sand blowing in wavy patterns in front of establishments. All of this was in his view as he was gathering his two dirt brown bags.

Royce’s attire was extremely common for a nonlocal. His wear consisted of brown khakis, black hard leather boots. Last but not least, his torso was of a soft brown leather jacket, and khaki colored shirt. After, he was assured he’d obtain everything he packed; he flew off directly to town ahead. His trail in front of him led him to wondrous sights native to his new residence. Three ragged drinkers beating down an old man for his loot; and leaving him with sand and blood.

Further, he witnessed a bunch of kids running around, screaming for jolly times. The only women here were tagging along with a male on their side. Or walking alone, in lingerie, stockings, and feathers on their heads. One gal was on her knees in front of a skinny guy with looks of fucking royalty. He was waiting for what he paid for and he paid for her ruby lips on his wretched prick.

Now, Royce finds himself at the entrance of a hotel which was his destination for the time being. It was neatly decorated, for this was a cat house also. Its exterior consisted of an elaborate, big, glossy sign that spelled out Dale and Rosie’s. The brick and wooden building was of average size and height. Two stories, and with a bar and drinks. He approached the entrance of the establishment and his wild, bright, blue eyes stared at a trio of suited and top hat wearing gentlemen. They were of tact, discretion, and above all, they were businessmen. Ah yes good sir, you must be the dandy gentleman with a knack of business talk with us; said the mustached character with greyish hair and a stubby frame.

Come on and lounge with us then my good sir. He turns to the frail bartender to ask for a refreshment for Royce. Soon, the four of them were presented with a bottle of brandy, and a new glass. I must say you’re a tad young boy, how old are you? Johnston looked up from his drink to reply to the man across from him. Twenty seven sir. Great, another kid wanting to get his hands dirty after his entry into the big hellhole of business; said the man in white attire and black gloves. Hush Mortimer hush. Anyway no formal council or meeting is started without introductions. You may call me Jerald Douglas of London, and It’s a swell sunny day today wouldn’t you care to say. This here next to me is Richardson from Nevada. Next to Richardson is of course the grim gentleman Mortimer from Oklahoma. Now is the time to introduce yourself, kind sir. Royce, from Wyoming. Well it is pleasure Royce.

Now, shall we get to business everyone. All of them were stalling their little get together for another round of drinks and treats at their plain circular table. The table was in the outer rim of the quiet hotel, bar, and cat house rolled into one. So, Royce you want to serve our fine little agency, do you? Any profession with decent pay catches my eye; Johnston replied. Douglas paused a moment to gather his latent thoughts as he was pulling out some jerky to chew. It appears to me boy that not only do you have a risky ambition, but you also have a taste for whatever a man of your class can muster. Douglas ended his statement with a long breath and laid back in his chair fixated at a possible employee.

In case you do not know Royce, we are looking to acquire a hit man to off some of our competitors and rogue acquaintances. Now a hit man is a hired killer who is hired to kill targets at a, I know what it means, just never done it before; interrupted Royce. Then you know what it is we are truly asking of you? Don’t you? Most of it; said Royce. Then, by jolly good lord, you must be the one we have longed to seek my dear gentleman!

Douglas’s exaggerated wild statement was ended with a barrage of coughing up at his handkerchief. So, if you don’t mind sir we shall commence with this job interview with a series of questions provided by us. First things first, are you familiar with firearms? Hell yeah I am sir, I’ve been near em since my fucking toddler years and started toting them when I was eight. Splendid! Have you ever taken the life of someone before? Can’t say I have, replied Royce. Well, All I can say to you my dear boy is you got yourself a job.

Douglas held out his thin, but stern hand. Royce lunged out his young, frail, and tough hand. The hands contacted each other making their deal official. Douglas reached for his leather satchel, while Richardson and Mortimer went to their horses.