Considering that the only time I had to squeeze in writing today was at 5 AM in a Poconos timeshare, I’d say that’s not too bad.
What do you do in a Homesteader town? Well, tradition says there’s three things for sure. I didn’t think I could do the one, and I shied away from doing the second, but I figured I could risk having a drink.
Before we could do that, we needed money. The dead men we rekilled didn’t have anything in their pockets, but each had sported a gold earring. Marigold had removed them without a qualm. “Gold won’t take corruption, or curses,” she had told me while we were exposing them, Horseman style, in a little clearing. I would’ve preferred a proper burial, but we didn’t have shovels. “Something in the metal doesn’t like bad magic.”
“The rest of ‘em sure did,” I said as I looked these four over (we did for the other two, the ones Marigold killed, afterward) . We’d blessed the corpses, too, and they were already starting to fall in on themselves. They’d likely be bones within a week. “I hope they weren’t bad men.”
“Ehh, they probably were,” replied Marigold, shrugging.