Chapter 2

To get from Golden Door to Cosha County, you had to take a shared carriage pulled by three mules. Every time the carriage rolled over the sandy road, the rope-tied luggage rattled and swayed.

Margopy Sparrow, the sole passenger, sat at the back of the carriage. She wedged herself into the narrow seat and barely kept her balance. Every time the carriage lurched hard, her backside ached.

“Margopy, we’ll be in Cosha soon.”

The coachman called out over the creaking wheels.

“Start getting ready to get off.”

“Yes.”

Margopy leaned her head out the window. Beyond the coachman’s sweat-drenched nape and the mules’ rumps, she could see a stretch of road where tall rocks jutted up. Between the rocks, dry trees stuck their branches out at odd angles.

A row of old shacks and a few tents occupied both sides of the road. It was the checkpoint of the vigilante group that everyone had to pass through to enter Cosha County.

A young man stood atop a grey rock that rose like a cliff face. He was Jackson Baker, on afternoon patrol. Jackson held his rifle in one hand and jumped down from the rock.

“Hey, Margopy.”

Jackson walked up to the carriage and scanned the seat where Margopy sat and the luggage compartment. Margopy gave a quiet wave and picked up the worn leather bag she’d set on the seat.

“Jackson, do I need to open my bag and show you?”

“Don’t bother. It’s obviously just a wooden chalkboard and a stack of papers. How’s school treating you?”

“Fine.”

“I wish my siblings were more like you. Unlike you, they’ve got no interest in studying.”

He lifted the canvas covering the luggage compartment with his rifle barrel and let out a sigh. Only after confirming the stacked firewood did Jackson’s sharp eyes soften.

“Are you heading to the train station?”

The coachman nodded at Jackson’s question.

“Station master Elkin placed an order for firewood.”

“You’re clear to pass.”

Jackson covered the luggage compartment again and shifted his gaze toward the mules. His eyes narrowed with puzzlement as he looked over the three old mules.

“Why only three mules? An odd number’s a bad omen. Don’t tell me you were robbed by bandits?”

“The lawmen took one.”

Margopy hugged her worn leather bag tight and said glumly. The old coachman grew equally glum and let his bony shoulders sag.

“They blocked the road out of nowhere at the canyon and took a mule as a so-called toll.”

“Rotten bastards.”

Jackson glared at the empty reins the coachman swung limply and ground his teeth.

“When the federal marshals wash their hands of managing the backwater, the sheriffs turn into bandits.”

“Who knows. They might already be in league with the gangs.”

The coachman sighed and picked up his leather whip.

“And because of that, only the young people here are working day and night. If the lawmen had any sense, you wouldn’t have had to form a vigilante group, would you, son of the innkeeper?”

“Paying those bastards protection money is worse than this.”

Jackson clicked his tongue briefly and turned to look at Margopy.

“Oh, Margopy. Stay away from the Green Pony for a while.”

“Why?”

“There are some military cadets from the east staying there, and they both look like real trouble. I’m thinking of sending Ann to her uncle’s ranch soon.”

He said nothing more and headed back toward the rocks. He climbed up and let out a sharp whistle, and two young men came running out of the tent. They grunted as they dragged the log barricade blocking the road out of the way.

The coachman cracked the whip at the mules and drove the carriage into the road. Margopy waved at Jackson as he settled onto the rock.

“See you, pretty.”

The vigilante boys dropped what they were doing and called out flirtatiously at Margopy. She pretended not to hear their cheap whistles and hugged her bag tight.

“You idiots. She’s a kid.”

Jackson spat out a rough curse and hurled a pebble at the boys’ heads.

“She’s the same age as my twins. You really want to do that to a schoolgirl?”

“Ah, Jackson! That means she’s fifteen! My sister got married at fifteen!”

“That’s because your father sold his daughter to pay off his gambling debts, you idiot!”

“Ow!”

One of the boys apparently caught a kick from Jackson. A pained scream rang out from behind.

As the town drew closer, the road grew steadily smoother. The carriage, which had been slowly rocking up and down, began to pick up speed.

The sound of the mules’ hooves grew gradually quieter, and a cloud of dust swelled around the carriage wheels.

Voices grew clearer as a long road came into view. Cosha County was small enough that the whole town fit in a single glance.

Wooden buildings lined both sides of the narrow, dirty road, each with a flimsy tent set up in front.

Every building had a low roof and a visibly shoddy frame, and most were only one or two storeys. The only tall building was a three-storey inn bearing a flat sign that read “Green Pony.”

The ground floor of the Green Pony, run by Jackson’s family, doubled as a tavern, and Margopy’s childhood friends, the twins Peter and Ann, always ate their meals there.

“Thank you.”

Margopy gave the coachman a quick bow and jumped out of the carriage, then made her way toward the Green Pony.

Jackson’s warning to stay away from the tavern had already been wiped clean from her mind.

“Margopy.”

The owner of a nearby fabric shop called out to her warmly.

“Coming home from school?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Margopy smiled and nodded. The shop owner looked at her sand-dusted face with a sympathetic expression.

“Isn’t it exhausting going all the way to Golden Door every day? It’s the only town with a school nearby, so you really do have it hard.”

“It would’ve been wonderful if Grandma Rosie were still alive.”

A passing blacksmith sighed quietly and joined the conversation.

“Of all the timing, to pass away right before you started school……”

“Don’t say such things!”

The fabric shop owner startled and stamped on the blacksmith’s foot. Margopy looked up at the blacksmith, who let out a strangled sound and clamped his mouth shut, and made a sulky face.

“Grandma wasn’t very fond of me going to school.”

She left the two of them shifting awkwardly and walked on.

A low, rumbling whistle sounded in the distance. Margopy stopped on instinct and turned her head toward the wilderness.

At the bottom of the hill leading down from town, a golden wilderness stretched out with sandy winds sweeping across it. In the middle of it stood a lone train station, its frame barely assembled.

A set of sturdy rails running through the desolate sandstorm caught her eye too. A massive steam train thundered along the tracks, belching black smoke.

Margopy stood with her hair whipping in the sandy wind and stared blankly at the grand sight. She’d been standing there for quite a while when she finally stepped into the town square, and an unexpected sight caught her eye.

She clutched her leather bag tight and widened her eyes. A heavyset, fat lawman stood in front of the Green Pony.

She knew the lawman’s face well. He was the greedy one who’d had his eye on one of Grandma Rosie’s cows the day the old woman died.

The lawman’s face was full of harsh wrinkles and spite, and his small, sharp eyes gleamed with greed. His oily face, buried under coarse stubble, looked like a beast hunting for prey.

“Hey, Peter. You still haven’t paid this month’s protection money, huh? You want to stay safe in this town, you pay up.”

The heavyset lawman held out a large hand and flashed a threatening smile.