Chapter 3: The Dirt Road

The revelry went on into the night for the citizens of New Tombstone and the Oriental was at the heart of it. The people sang and danced, drank and cheered; some even took to the Cage to finish venting off what frustrations remained. The festivities even spilled out onto the street where some of the worst fighting the town had seen took place no more than a few scant hours ago.

Kreshna stared in the direction of the Carnival, waiting for some sign that the worst was over. Hearing Markie step out onto the veranda, he glanced up at her and nodded, “I knew there was some fight in you somewhere. Antiquated uniform perhaps but I am sure a balance can be found. Besides, I believe the townsfolk feel a bit better knowing that the one they turn to for healing can cause just as much damage to those who would do them harm.” The demon stood from his rocking chair and gave her as warm a smile as his near skeletal visage could muster. “If nothing else, my dear Markie, I was quite pleased to see that you have a mean streak after all. It will serve as a warning to any would-be admirers to mind their manners.”

The old man took his time returning from the Carnival. He had a lot to sort out before the spire light brought another day to the Outlands. He stopped in the middle of Allen Street, looking around the area at the destruction that had been wrought over the past few days and took a long draw from his cigar. He looked to the Oriental, the sounds of the celebration within not doing a blasted thing to ease the numbing ache he had to deal with. He saw his friends, Markie and Kreshna were chatting and…. And there was Red, standing there, watching, and waiting. Doc walked to the steps of the veranda and looked at them as he took another draw from his cigar. He seemed to consider what he was about to say, finding the words was not coming easy to him. “It seems I have a trip to make. I’ll be heading out in the morning. I trust you all will take care of the place while I’m gone.”

She heard his words, but gave no indication that she had. She appreciated the sentiment, even if she could take little comfort form them. However, his last remark drew a tired, wry smile to her lip, and she finally glanced to her side at him. "If that's the case, then I fear I will live alone in my little apartment forever." She breathed deep and heaved a heavy sigh, and rested her hands on the balustrade at the edge of the porch. "There is a lot of history in that uniform...a lot of history... It was one I had hoped to never wear again." She sighed again, more softly this time, and looked out into the night at the torch fires still burning, calm and controlled compared to the earlier infernos. "I still hold to that hope..."

"I was a different person when I wore that uniform," she offered as an explanation, even though he had not asked. She said nothing more on it, but there were enough signs to show that it was not a person she was proud of.

Keen ears caught the crunch of boots on the road, and she looked up to find Doc returning at last. She opened her mouth to greet him, but let it die in her throat when she saw the look on his face. What he had to say, however, was not something she expected. Markie pinned him with a curious look, and glanced to Kreshna in case the demon might hold some greater information. In the end she simply nodded, and relaxed her stance with a sigh, made a bit more audible for effect. "Blasse won't be pleased, you know..."