Scene One - The 3:10 to Dusthaven
"Desert sky, dream beneath a desert sky, where rivers run but soon run dry…"
-U2, "In God's Country
April 26, 1875 - 3:10 PM
"Somewhere in the Southwest"
Tucked in the rugged arms of a canyon in the badlands, the quaint mining town of Dusthaven radiated a raw charm that mirrored the resolve and tenacity of its residents. The steep canyon walls, with their red and brown shades, stood in stark contrast to the clear blue sky overhead, providing a striking setting for the town's daily flurry of activity.
At the core of Dusthaven lay a dusty main street flanked by an assortment of wooden structures, all worn by the unyielding sun and sporadic sandstorms. The saloon stood as the town's hub, with its swinging doors perpetually moving to the rhythm of miners, cowboys, and wayfarers entering and exiting. The echoes of boisterous laughter with spirited piano melodies, and the tinkling of glassware filled the street, bearing witness to the fleeting solace embraced within its confines.
Next to the saloon was the general store, serving as a vital resource for the community with a stock of essentials that included canned goods and mining equipment. The porch of the store was the social hub, where the townspeople came together to share news and gossip while seated on timeworn benches.
Directly across the street, the blacksmith's forge worked ceaselessly, with its radiant embers and steady hammering creating an unending backdrop of sound for the town.
Scattered around the edges of the town were miners' cabins, small and humble abodes made from rough-hewn timber. Smoke curled from the chimneys, and the scent of simple meals being prepared wafts through the air. The miners themselves, faces etched with fatigue and resolve, could be seen heading to and from the Looming Vulture mine, a dark, yawning entrance set into the canyon wall.
Beyond the cabins, the landscape stretched out into a harsh and unforgiving desert, dotted with cacti and scrub brush. The distant howl of coyotes occasionally pierced the silence, a reminder of the wildness that surrounds this isolated settlement.
Cole Bridgewater arrived at the train station in Dusthaven on the 3:10 train. He’d never been to Dusthaven before, but the station looked much as he expected. The station building was a single-story structure with a wide, overhanging roof to provide shade from the relentless desert sun. The walls, weathered by the elements, were adorned with simple signs indicating the station's name and the schedules for arriving and departing trains.
A small ticket office was housed within, its window protected by iron bars. The station master was a strange and frantic sort of fellow, obviously made a bit nervous by Cole’s arrival - or perhaps the man that Cole had come to town to meet, a representative of the rail company that employed them both.
Cole's eyes flicked over the station bulletin board. Train schedules, advertisements, some kind of religious tract - his eyes stopped when he saw a familiar face and name on the poster for a “Doctor Ezekiel’s Elixir Emporium”. Genevieve Starr. He remembered her vivacious laughter and the seriousness with which she took her craft. Wasn't it a small old world? Cole reached out and touched the poster.
"Do you know her? I can introduce you later. She should be here for the show tonight. Amazing performer." Cole nearly jumped out of his skin. The railroad representative had come in while he was ogling the poster. The representative was a devilishly handsome, but haughty fellow who looked down his nose unconsciously at all the lower-class passengers. "Are you Bridgewater?" the man asked. Cole nodded. The man introduced himself. "Orin Owley, Pioneer Express Railway"
"Pleasure," said Cole, though it really wasn't.
"How was the trip?"
"Not bad," Cole told him, though in truth he had not not enjoyed it. He was used to much better accommodations though he was beginning to adjust.
"A man of few words. Not what I expected from a lawyer from back east. Well, like we say here at Pioneer Express, we're bridging one mile at a time." He snickered, but looked a bit upset that Cole didn’t even smile at that. "Well, let's get you settled and then we can talk some turkey. Carry on, Clancy!" He waved toward the station master, who seemed too flustered to really notice.
Cole and Owley stepped out of the train station, and into the streets of Dusthaven. Out front, a wooden platform stretched alongside the train tracks, its planks creaking underfoot. There were no other townsfolk or passengers awaiting the next train. Benches were scattered along the platform, offering a place to sit and rest while watching the horizon for the telltale plume of smoke signaling an approaching locomotive, but they were empty.
Even the freight docks were empty. The air is filled with the sounds of hissing steam, clanking metal, and the occasional call of a conductor.
Nearby, a water tower loomed over the station, its spout poised to replenish the steam engines that ran the trains. Afternoon was aging, the air is pleasant and dry. Dusthaven seemed to be a typical mining town along the railroad - dust in the air, clapboard buildings clustered along a dirt main drag with hitching posts and horse troughs being the main fixtures.
As Cole looked on, a tumbleweed skittered past. The streets were eerily deserted, yet signs of life were evident: fresh paint, the clang of the blacksmith's hammer, and the pungent scent of horse manure. It could have been mistaken for a ghost town if not for these details. Meanwhile, Owley appeared unfazed by the absence of people.
Initially, Cole ignored the meager preparations in the town square until Owley remarked, "That's where your medicine show will take place." His voice carried a note of indifference. "It's the only event in town tonight. I'll be there." Cole mulled over the idea. He had never experienced a Wild West medicine show, though the description reminded him of the mountebanks back home. He deemed most of them swindlers, yet they were amusing, nonetheless.
Cole and Owley crossed the street to the hotel. It was a quiet day, and Cole quickly settled into a room that seemed cozy, featuring a beautifully carved rocking chair by the window with a view of the desert. The chair looked welcoming, and he decided to rest in it for some time. However, he soon regretfully found out that the hotel was plagued with bedbugs.
He decided to go to the General Store to get a bedbug remedy. He encountered no one except for Old Jeb, the storekeeper, a crusty old man who looks as stubborn as the mule tied out front, but his shelves held honestly priced goods. In a brilliant bit of haggling, Cole managed to talk him into a deep discount for some plant ash and lime. It was vile stuff, but he figured it would be better than letting the pernicious insects have him. After that, he returned to the hotel and the rocking chair, to await the medicine show.
As he waited, Cole reflected on what had brought him here. It seemed about as far away from his old life in England as a person could get. And he liked it that way; without his father constantly looking over his shoulder, without the family name to liv up to, he could finally do things his way. Dusthaven was, in many ways, what he had expected. Still, there was something strange about this place, an almost haunted feeling that he couldn’t quite place.
Cole looked out the window toward the badlands beyond the edge of town, wondering what Dusthaven held in store for someone like him.
