Shadows of Agua Fria

The once peaceable town of Agua Fria boiled with hidden tension. Troubles with renegades and bandits had been bad, though it had been some time since the last raids. Like any other boomtown, her streets overflowed with people seeking their fortunes. Gold and silver mines brought more people to the farming community; adding their personal and political schemes to the unstable mix. Navigating her streets even visitors could feel the weight of stress on their shoulders. Agua Fria was a powder keg. With tensions high, the last thing the town needed was a spark.

Riding into town, a lone stranger upon a horse as black as midnight threatened to shatter this fragile peace. Upon his hip, he wore a sawed-off Winchester repeating rifle in a custom holster. Spurring on his mount as he rode in from the South, he slowly scanned, noting all he saw. The stranger had a dark presence about him, his cold eyes narrowed to slits by the New Mexico sun. He looked dangerous. The majestic black horse moved with a slow grace, its rider bobbed lightly in the saddle. It was not the graceful animal that held the towns' attention. All eyes were focused on the stranger. It was his weapon that caught every eye and suspicion drove many to utter the words "Outlaw", or "Killer". People in Agua Fria were caught off guard by this menacing presence, and could only stare as he dismounted his horse with a thud and stepped onto the boardwalk. A sense of foreboding had fallen over the town, and its people feared a coming storm.

Eyes narrowed in distrust as the stranger walked past. Shopkeepers watched him through the windows of their shops. A mother pulled her child to the side, shielding the kid behind her skirts. All eyed him with suspicion. The stranger was used to this treatment. He used cynicism and distrust to his advantage. These were natural human emotions that allowed him to appear menacing. In his line of work, it paid to look dangerous. He knew that for a fact. Knowing so did nothing to remove the sting he felt when things like this happened. With a furrowed brow and a stern look, the newcomer turned to face the woman who spurned him.

"The marshal," he demanded of the woman who could only point in reply.

He noticed the child's bright eyes shining at him. The little girl craned her neck to look around her mother. Her smile was infectious. The stranger returned her smile and tipped his hat with a wink, leaving the two to their business. He walked in the direction the woman had given him. He was working and had a simple yet dangerous job to do.

The outsider didn't need the Marshal. He preferred to take care of his business without the possible interference of local law enforcement. The fact that local law would allow such a man as his quarry to walk freely through the streets did not suggest he could trust them. He'd best avoid any legal entanglements he decided. Bounty hunters weren't exactly loved in frontier towns.

Walking along the boardwalk, he noticed the streets were bustling with people. Some entered shops, others stood at the windows and looked at the goods displayed. Everyone walked with a purpose, quickly, and avoided eye contact. He observed that no one stopped to talk with others. He noticed the only voices he heard came from the many saloons that lined Agua Fria Street. Aside from the more raucous types at the bars, it seemed as if no one was willing to break the peace with even a whisper.