Word Count: 356
11.14.2005
“Da, I’ll see you again soon. I’m just moving to Cicada with Aunt Polly; you’re not burying me too.” Jerusha felt like she was abandoning her Da. She slid beneath his arm and snuggled up against him, enjoying the familiar and comforting smell of his skin tonic.
“Without me here eating all your food, you’ll have extra jink. You’ll be able to pay off the guild twice as quick. Then you can move down to Cicada, too. I’ll have everything ready for us when you get there, I promise.” Jerusha believed every word with her ten-year-old heart.
Corrigan Ramble tried not to cry, and smiled at his little girl. Her wide, dark eyes and the tilt of her chin made her look so very much like her Ma.
When Tyrion spotted the Arroyo Express Coach in the ruins, he planned his next three big moves. The first was to find the stagemaster, and get a contract to Spa City. The other two would wait.
He did not immediately switch directions and head for the stagecoach, however. He still had to pick up his guns. After his expirience from the last time he had been through Center City, he had not felt safe enough to smuggle his guns into town. Lucky Edsel’s place was just outside of town. It was a squat post-war building that had obviously been built to withstand a siege. The small windows were barred, and there was a cage just inside the only visible entrance that was often locked to keep customers or intruders alike in check. It was part pawnshop and part rental storage.
When the first neo-settlers came to the place that they later named Spa City, they were pleased that the legends were true. Sure enough, the books, maps, and other information from the Ark’s paper and digital archives were right. In a little valley in the ancient, low mountains northwest of Terrapin Station was what had once been a city. Hot springs bubbled up out of the ground along the mountainside of one valley.