On the road

***

"People should not be judged by their actions, but by the motivations behind them."

Johannes Mario Simmel

***

Wyoming Territory, February 1882

City of Cheyenne - 103 miles north of Denver

*

Almost all kids from the city watched the leaving train of Union Pacific Corporation; some even ran along the rails until the locomotive sped up so much they couldn´t keep up with it anymore.

It had already been fourteen years since the railroad reached Cheyenne, bringing the rapid growth to the region, but the station itself was not used as much as was expected back then. The Wyoming Territory lacked the minerals as gold and silver, which would have attracted more immigrants, even though there could be found some copper instead. The city was basically the only civilized connection to the ways toward the north, so the local population grew slowly, but steadily as the years passed. The arrivals and departures of trains were still kind of an event, especially for small children. That was why they gathered to watch it this time as well.

Mr. Stuart, the city telegrapher, sipped from his afternoon cup of coffee, standing on the privileged spot, which the veranda of his post office was. You could comfortably observe the whole rail station, a good half of the main street and also, the big part of the rails disappearing far away on the horizon from there.

The kids were slowly returning from their futile train chase, balancing at or jumping over the iron tracks, which had already cut through almost all states of the Union from east to west by that time. They were only lightly clothed, despite the winter time of early February. The annual Chinook wind from the Laramie mountain range came quite late that year, so Mr. Stuart expected no more heavy snowing after it would stop blowing. But that expectation could have been changed easily; the whims of the nature in their territory were unpredictable.

Only the small piles of snow were desperately trying to survive in the dark shadows of buildings and trees, but there was no escape from the sun beams and especially the warm wind, which was coming to Cheyenne regularly; each year it allowed the citizens to have a break from the tough winter for a while. A couple of years ago, the warm period lasted for twenty days, so that even the flowers started to bloom, before they were frozen up to the core again.

Mister Telegrapher, as he was called by the kids, faced the sun with a satisfied sigh; it felt great to be warmed up after the mercilessly cold period and storm season. Moreover, he had quite a lot of time off at hand, with the wires destroyed in the last huge storm, which fortunately didn´t stop trains from running, but the telegraphic connection took a while to be restored.

As Mr. Stuart finished his coffee and intended to return to the office, his eyes glanced over the main street. He was familiar with almost everyone in the town; he knew most of the citizens by their names thanks to his job as a telegrapher and post man. That was why he immediately knew that two riders coming from the north were not local. The strangers were still too far for Mr. Stuart to recognize their faces, so he took a broom and pretended to clean up the veranda from non-existing mess, waiting for them to come closer.

It didn´t take long before the curious telegrapher, temporarily without a job, recognized that one of the newcomers was an Indian riding the dark brown stallion and the second one an Asian young man sitting in a very neat saddle on the white mare. It was quite an unusual sight in Cheyenne, as almost all Indian tribes formerly inhabiting the territory were already properly moved to the reservations and they were usually not allowed to trespass into any city. Both the riders and horses seemed to be tired, as if there was a very long journey behind them.

If they really come from the north, it´s quite a wonder, Mr. Stuart thought.

It was almost impossible to travel from Montana down here to the borders with Colorado in such a season. But judging their appearance, the heavy furs and other stuff attached to the saddles, it definitely seemed to be the case.

Many curious eyes followed the newcomers, as they rode along the main street, but nobody approached them.

Mr. Stuart thought that the travelers would head to the saloon, but instead he found them leading their animals directly toward his office. He frowned, wondering what business they might have with the railroad, or if they just intended to pass through the city without stopping here. He got quite surprised, when the young stranger reached the building first, dismounted his mare and spoke in a clearly tired, but unexpectedly polite voice.

"Good day, Mister. Are you the local post man?"

"Sure, I am," the telegrapher nodded, still baffled about the unusual newcomers and put the broom aside. "My name is Robert Stuart, at your service."

The young man stepped up on the veranda, while his Indian companion remained in his saddle, not saying a word.

"Nice to meet you," the well-mannered youngster reached out for a handshake.

Mr. Stuart accepted his firm hand, observing the pale face in front of him curiously.

"Likewise, young man… Can I help you somehow?"

"I hope you can," the young stranger nodded. "My name is Kamenashi and I just want to ask if there´s any message for me."

"Kamenashi, you say… I must check it, come with me," Robert invited the young man inside, entering the office first. It was an unusual name and the telegrapher had a feeling he had already heard it before.

Kamenashi followed him inside and waited, reading the notice board with the latest news and wanted posters, while Robert searched through his pile of unpicked messages. There were not many of them, so he found it quite quickly.

"Ah, I knew there was something… Here."

Mr. Stuart handed a small sealed envelope over to Kamenashi. The young man´s face remained tense, as he opened the letter and seemed to be relieved a little only after reading the words. The telegrapher was already going through the list of the last telegrams, which he managed to receive before that ugly storm broke the connection.

"Yes, yes, it is for you…" he murmured. "Kamenashi Kazuya, is that right?" Robert asked, checking the telegram, which he dug out.

The youngster observed his hands holding the small paper: "Yes, that´s correct," he nodded carefully.

"This telegram is for you as well then…"

To: Kazuya Kamenashi, City of Cheyenne

From: Jin, Fort Kearney

BROTHER STILL ON RUN STOP GOING TO DENVER TOMORROW STOP WE CAN MEET AT BLAKE STREET SALOON END

Only after he finished reading the short message, Kame started to breathe again. So far there was not any bad news. The first sealed message Jin left for him said that he decided to go with Captain Walker to the military fortress in Kearney, nearby Omaha, as there was a word that a member of the Black Riders was captured. It seemed that once he made sure it was not his brother; he managed to gather some info and decided to proceed to Denver. The telegram didn´t say anything about Walker or about the search itself, but Kame was satisfied enough to know that Jin was alive and probably in one piece.

"When did this arrive, Mr. Stuart?" he asked.

"Four days ago," the telegrapher informed him.

Well, that was not the best information of all…

"Four…" Kame repeated frowning. "And there was not anything else since then?"

"Unfortunately not, young man. We´re not reconnected yet," Mr. Stuart shrugged. "The storm destroyed some of the wires. They´re still working on it."

Kame suppressed the urge to curse. Tons of various things could have happened in four days, especially when it came to Jin.

"All right, thank you anyway."

"It´s my job," the telegrapher informed him, with an expression which clearly exposed that the man was proud of his work.

"Don´t you know how long it would take to get from Fort Kearney to Denver?" Kame asked, folding the telegram and hiding it inside his pocket.

"Well… There´s a regular train service on this route, so no more than two days under the best circumstances."

"That´s fast," Kame murmured. "And from here with a horse?"

"It´s around one hundred miles away," Mr. Stuart reacted. "Probably three days of journey, if you travel only during daylight."

"Thank you once again, Mr. Stuart," Kamenashi nodded, almost turning away for leaving, when he thought of a possible way of how to let Jin know he was coming. "By any chance, do you know when you will be able to send any telegram?"

But the telegrapher shrugged hopelessly: "No idea, I´m sorry. It doesn´t look well with the repairs."

***

State of Colorado

Castle Rock outskirts - 29 miles south of Denver

The soft wind was playing with the first straws of grass, which dared to peek out from the recently unfrozen ground of wide meadows spread wildly around the city. The warmth of the Sun was already luring the first tiny flowers up above the ground, creating nice contrast with the wide spaces covered with persistent snow. It was only the middle of February and too early to be relieved that the hard season was over, but despite that the day felt like the real spring.

The huge lonely rock of unusual shape was standing proudly on the hill above the road, which connected Castle Rock and Colorado Springs in the south, hungrily consuming all accessible sunbeams. It provided a comfortable dry spot in the lee covered with some thick bushes, which were so big that nobody could be seen behind them, even if they were standing. Probably that was why a young man with shoulder-long black hair chose it as his observing spot.

The gunslinger was seated right next to the warm stone, focused on his important task – cleaning, checking and loading of two revolvers, one rifle and two knives. Nothing interrupted the peace of that place except the quiet sounds that the weapons made, when they were carefully placed at the flat stone nearby. Suddenly, a stallion, black as night itself, standing calmly just six feet away from the young man, neighed a short warning.

The black-haired one raised his head immediately, glancing at the animal, as it shook its noble head. He put the last weapon aside and stood up, approaching the edge of the natural plateau, but remaining hidden behind the bushes. He checked the road down under the hill and he spotted the stagecoach pulled by two strong horses, approaching fast from the north.

It was not the regular postal coach, which made the trip on that very road to Denver and back again every day. This one was accompanied by two government soldiers and its windows were covered with the thick shutters. It might have been something he was waiting for.

Jin rushed back to gather his weapons and jumped up on the black horse in no time, ready to follow the coach from far enough not to be spotted. This was his third attempt already, but he just couldn´t sit on his ass doing nothing at all. His rides along the main roads leading to Denver were, according to the information he had gathered so far, definitely worth trying.

*

A mere five miles passed under the hooves of the black horse, when the animal stopped its regular pace suddenly and retreated a little. Its rider checked the road on his right; the coach was still in his sight. Then Jin´s eyes observed the both sides of it, looking for any possible spot from where… Then he saw it.

There was a place, where the coach had to cross a narrow stream. Jin knew about it, because he went that way before as well. The bed of that creek was deep, convenient for hideout and a good spot for raid…

The gunslinger led his horse further away from the road, taking cover among the bushes and stones, proceeding forward only very slowly. And his caution paid off, as not long after that he spotted a suspicious shadow on the opposite side of the road.

Jin left the saddle, patting the animal across the neck appreciatively.

"Good job, Kuro," he whispered in the stallion´s ear.

The horse just snorted, sounding almost amused.

"I know, I know," Jin smirked. "I´d have been lost without you."

He took the reins in his hands, the eyes focused at the narrow bridge, which the coach almost reached by that time.

"Let´s go… I´ve got the feeling something is in the air. And it´s not the spring…" Jin murmured for himself, just before the first gunshots were heard in the distance.

***

State of Colorado

Fort Collins - 65 miles north of Denver

The heavy pants synchronized with quiet creaking of the wood scratching the floor were heard in the dark dusty room, which served as the main office of Laporte Sandstone Quarry, located an hour of horse ride away from the center of Fort Collins.

A boy, who had just recently reached the nineteenth year of his life, was leaning over the table, clutching its edges so firmly, that his knuckles were clearly visible, purely white under his skin. He was desperately suppressing the painful gasps, which were trying to escape from his shaking lips.

It hurt. It hurt so much that it almost destroyed any chance for excitement he might have felt. Almost.

Two hard hands grabbed his hips to place him into more convenient position, which was even more uncomfortable for him. Another hard thrust between his already too sensitive halves aimed even further than before and Danny was not able to fight down a pained groan this time. But the greedy owner of attacking flesh inside his ass didn´t care, and held him steady while pushing in even more violently.

Danny flinched in a futile attempt to escape the gross touch on his cock. He felt a little ashamed that he was hard. The man´s fingers tightened around his aroused member and then he felt the hot breath stinking of cigarettes at his cheek, when his boss spoke: "Do not pretend you don´t like this, boy."

Danny was breathing heavily, imprisoned in the firm grasp, with the older man´s hand brushing over the most private part of his body roughly. He was still consumed with the burning pain deep inside, but at the same time he felt so hot and aroused that he could have only wished for that hand to continue its movements. He was desperate to relieve at least some of that accumulated stress, excitement and humiliation.

"I know you do," the hoarse voice stated confidently, and Danny could almost see the satisfied smirk on that man´s face, even though he could observe only the room in front of him.

The torturing hand returned to its position on Danny´s side and the previous movements picked up their pace quickly. The boy closed his eyes, determined to bear it till the end, hoping that maybe, maybe this time Math would…

But he was wrong, just like before. With a long, satisfied moan, the man came inside him, releasing the sticky stuff and remained attached to him just shortly, to gain his composure. Then Math stepped back and finally let him go, leaving Danny with his hardness screaming for attention to deal with it himself.

Danny felt the burning tears in his eyes, when he heard the buckle of the other´s trousers and the steps going away from him. He didn´t let the salty liquid slip from behind his eyelids; he knew it wouldn´t have been welcomed. Instead, he reached for his painfully hard member and with the anxious feeling, which squeezed his guts; he started to caress it hastily…

The cigarette always felt better after a good fuck. Math Grenet let the toxic smoke reach his lungs with pleasure, before he breathed it out. He approached the window, looking out at the men from the afternoon shift, who were just loading the second train of that day.

The sandstone in this area was of a high quality and very valued. When a man was clever enough, it meant a steady income and for the one who managed to be at least a little devious, some bonuses were included as well. Sadly, with quite bad financial consequences for the workers…

Hearing the gradually heavier and faster gasps for breath, Math turned to look at the boy, who was just trying hard to bring himself over the edge. A smirk formed on his lips at the sight.

He was so right about Danny willing to do anything for him. Not much persuasion was necessary, and it was not as if he would have been bothered with that in case the boy would have had some complaints. There were more than enough whores available in the city, but somehow, Math enjoyed Danny more.

The man made himself comfortable at the windowsill, and watched the boy, until he was finished. And that was even before his cigarette was done. It was almost incredible, how much humiliation Danny was able to bear, but it was more than convenient for him.

Danny collected himself slowly, his face blushed and sweated. He avoided Math´s stare as he pulled his trousers back up.

"Go and tell those lazy black skins outside I want that train to depart Laporte before sunset," Math ordered him, and Danny nodded.

Grenet finished his cigarette and observed the boy with narrowed eyes. Danny was naive and sweet. Maybe even too naive, but still Math enjoyed his company more than of that crazy bastard Cameron. That man even gave him the goose bumps sometimes.

"And then get us some beer," he added after.

Danny´s head plopped up immediately hearing the words: "Shouldn´t I go to Fort Collins this evening? To check out the news?"

"Tomorrow will be good enough," Grenet snorted. "I want you here this evening. Any complaints?"

"Of course not!" Danny rushed to assure him. "I… just…"

"Move your ass, Dannie, before I change my mind," Grenet´s glare made Danny straighten his back, almost saluting.

"Yes, sir!"

Math smirked again, when he noticed that even though the boy was trying to cover it, he was limping a bit on his way to the exit.

"And find me Cameron. I need to talk with him."

"I´ll send him here right away," Danny nodded again, before he disappeared behind the door.

I really need to have a good talk with that creepy man, Grenet thought, glancing out at the busy scenery again.

The winter was almost over and he didn´t want to wait anymore, in the damn dusty valley or in that too neat city. He wanted to go back to the north, to Bozeman, and finally teach those two bastards a proper lesson.

The winter was damn long for waiting, especially when you waited for revenge.

***

"Are you sure about this, my Brother?" Liwan´s face was showing many worries, when they dismounted their horses on the road leading out from the city directly to the south. Only thirteen miles were left to get to the borders between Wyoming and Colorado.

Kame approached his best friend and now also blood brother, with a reassuring smile, taking his right arm into a firm grasp.

"I am. The most difficult part of the journey is over. I´m sure I´ll get to Denver without any bigger issues," he stated confidently. "It´s you I´m worried about. You must go back the same way. And those Crow folks didn´t seem very friendly…"

"I can handle a few shouting birds," Liwan snorted, almost annoyed, so that Kame had to suppress a smile. The long-lasting grudge between some tribes was something really useless in these days and the Indians were still clinging on it almost desperately. Even though they knew they all had only one enemy now – the white nation.

"All right, just don´t let those birds fly too close to you," the younger one urged.

"And you do not involve in anything unnecessary," the Indian repaid him with the similar request. "Though I am sure there will be many unnecessary troubles once you meet with Akanishi."

"And we will deal with it as always," Kame said, smiling just at the mention of the name.

Liwan finally grabbed the younger one´s arm just below the elbow firmly as well: "I will miss you, Kame."

"I will miss you too, Brother. I will visit the reservation as soon as I can. Make sure that everything will be all right there, when I come."

"Sure," Liwan nodded, and changed their handgrip to a hug.

"Thank you for seeing me off so far…" Kame stated, already serious, hugging the Indian back. "I wouldn´t have made it without you."

"I am quite sure Akanishi would come to chew my head off if I let you go alone in that by Manitou forsaken weather," Liwan muttered, half-joking.

Kame knew very well that his friend was just too worried to let him leave the new home of what was left from the Blackfeet Tribe on his own. But they were on the way for too long and it would take many weeks for Liwan to get back to the tribe. Considering the conditions up there, it was really about time for the young shaman to go back.

"Have a safe journey back," Kazuya said.

Liwan opened his mouth to reply, but the younger one beat him to it: "And I promise I will be careful."

Only then, the Indian nodded and let his white friend slip from his grip.

*

Liwan kept watching his young brother riding away, until the rider´s figure was so small that he couldn´t recognize it anymore. He noticed that Kazuya incited his dear mare to a faster pace than they had used so far. Even during their farewell, he could see in the younger´s face that his mind was already half way to Denver.

Liwan knew his blood brother maybe even better than Kame had realized. No matter how cheerful and optimistic he tried to behave during the past two months, he could see there was always a hint of sadness inside of him.

Kame was like that since the very moment he had finally arrived to their secret cave, to help the tribe with the moving to the north. Liwan had a bad hunch immediately, when he had noticed that he came without his annoying boyfriend, even before Kame explained everything they had found out about Akanishi´s brother and about their decision.

Liwan was honestly glad that Kame came back to them as he had promised, but he could see that the separation from the hot-blooded gunslinger was a significant hit on the younger one. It was hard to notice, as Kame was great at covering those things inside him, but Liwan caught him up in the absent-minded sorrowful states a few times. The more days the younger one spent with the tribe, the less he laughed or talked, until it came to the point when Liwan himself offered to accompany him on the way to the south.

Kame was missing Akanishi much more than he was willing to admit to himself and Liwan saw it. The absence of the older one was tearing him apart, as well as the absolute lack of knowledge of what was happening to him. It was already back then, in the reservation, when Liwan finally accepted that Kame loved that black-haired impatient gunslinger. That he loved him so much he was even willing to risk the trip across the Rockies during the hard winter.

Probably all good spirits were on their side during the travel. Liwan didn´t believe that they were just lucky enough to get to the city of white men, further in the south than he had ever been, safely. The harsh weather and hostile tribes were not exactly the best conditions for such a long trip. But they made it; they reached Cheyenne and it was clearly visible how relieved Kame was to find that message waiting there for him.

Liwan closed his eyes for a moment, sending a humble prayer to Manitou to watch over his blood brother, before he mounted his own patiently waiting horse. It was time to set off back to the north. There were others, about whom he had to be worried. And he was determined to get to the reservation as soon as possible…

***

A small group of riders dressed in black reached the top of the first hill above the bridge, which was the place of their ambush, slowing their horses from the trot a little. The satisfied shouts and laughing could be heard, as they waved with the heavy bags printed with the government marks.

This time, the soldiers accompanying the coach were incredible cowards and they let themselves be tied up, when they were promised no harm. At this moment, the blue uniforms were swirling under the bridge, hoping for any random traveler, while the coach was left standing on the stream´s bank.

Five men pulled the scarves off their faces, which revealed two gunslingers in their thirties and two younger ones no more than about twenty years old. Their leader was a strictly looking well-built man, older than all of them and he was the only one who was not laughing. Right the opposite, he was on full alert, watching the closest surroundings suspiciously.

The robbers passed around the huge stones, ready to continue their ride to the west, when a calm voice was heard, which made all of them halt right away.

"Seems the business went well today…"

The leader was the first one to have his gun in hand again, turning his horse back toward the dark spot, which they had just passed. A black-haired youngster, with a red scarf around his neck, came out of the shadows with both his hands raised in the air, obviously empty.

"Black Riders, I dare to assume?" the young stranger asked, unmoved by five guns aiming at him.

"Who asks?" the oldest man went forward.

"I´d like to know if I´m talking with the right people first," the youngster replied.

"Right people?" one of the younger robbers reacted with a snort. "Yeah, we´re definitely right people."

"Shut up, Carl," another one scolded him.

"I don´t think you´re in position to set up the conditions, boy," the oldest man warned.

The stranger shrugged: "Yeah, I bet that your leader is the one to decide all the rules…"

The man, who had questioned him so far, frowned and dismounted his horse, approaching the youngster closer.

"I do not like your attitude, boy. If you´re just another bounty hunter, then you´re the dumbest one I have ever met. I can just shoot your head off right now," the man snorted with his revolver almost touching the intruder´s forehead.

"Hey, wait a second! I do search for your leader, but I´m not any damn bounty hunter," the young stranger assured him.

The leader of the group of robbers smirked: "Who are you then?"

The youngster moved his hand slowly, just to take the hat off his head, so that the sun could reach his face, so far covered in shadow. It made the younger part of the company gasp in surprise, while the leader´s eyes went wide.

"I´m Leo´s brother," the black-haired one announced.

"Wow…"

"Brother?"

The excited whispers could be heard among the members of the group, but the old man was not convinced.

"Anyone could have said that," he snorted. "Why should we believe you?"

"Why would I lie?" the young man asked back.

"They definitely look alike," one of the others spoke up.

"That itself doesn´t mean anything," the leader insisted.

"Take me to him then, he can confirm it personally," the youngster suggested. "I bet my little bro didn´t forget my face just after two years."

There was still a strong hostility in the men´s eyes, but he kept silent.

"He´s right, Cullen. Let´s take him with us," one of the younger men stated.

"Why are you looking for him?" the old man asked.

"Do I need a reason to see my own brother?" the young gunslinger raised his eyebrows.

Cullen snorted something intelligible.

"Do not make an idiot out of me, boy," he said then. "With a reward that high, anyone would kill own mother these days."

The gunslinger´s face went dark. Self-introduced Akanishi let his hands go down slowly despite the muzzle of the old man´s gun still hovering in front of his nose.

"I´m not that type," he stated firmly, in a very cold tone.

The man observed him for a while, before he let his revolver down.

"All right then… But let me say it clearly, boy - I do not trust you. If you hand over all your weapons and let yourself be tied, I´m willing to drag you along. Otherwise, you can just rest under the bridge along with those cowards in blue."

"That´s a fair deal," the youngster nodded slowly. "I can give you my weapons, but the binding is not necessary…"

One of the younger ones jumped down his horse as well, approaching them with a smile: "Do not be so stern, Cullen. He´s alone and there´re five of us."

"Better be safe than sorry," the old man hissed.

"I can only agree with that," Akanishi nodded immediately.

That surprised the oldest man, while the younger one raised his hand toward the stranger: "Hey, nice to meet you. I´m Ryo."

"Jin," the gunslinger accepted the offered hand.

"Man, you´re really damn alike!" Ryo exclaimed, observing Jin from almost unpleasant closeness.

"And you´re too damn trusting, my young friend," Cullen snorted.

"Hey, Cullen, let him ride without chains, all right? On my responsibility," the youngster offered.

The other three just laughed, as if they expected nothing else of Ryo. Their leader was not exactly satisfied, but still, he let the younger companion have his way.

"As you wish. But do not come to me crying if it backfires on you," he snorted. "Let´s go! We´ve wasted enough time already! Well… In case that here Mister Akanishi has anything to ride on."

"Of course, I do," Jin smiled a little. "He even wants to meet you, I guess."

The little group laughed out again, when a black stallion snorted right next to Cullen´s ear making the man jump up in surprise.

"Damn! The horse even sneakier than his master!" Cullen cursed.

Jin reached toward Kuro, caressing the animal gently.

"We will take it as a compliment," he smirked at the man.

Ryo was obviously having a lot of fun over Cullen´s baffled expression, but in the end the old man repaid Jin´s smirk.

"Seems that we will have some fun on the way back with you…"