And so our intrepid band of misfits were on their way to Salina, to solve the mystery of the missing weapons, a mission your narrator believed was somewhat lesser than The Posse was capable of, but irregardless, here we were. I had orders from a mysterious negro in a suit to contact Agent Cutter via telegraph once we arrived.
There wasn’t much chit chat on the journey, despite this author’s constant attempts at the contrary. My gift of the gab appears to be a curse upon my present company.
Our awkward silences were not to last however, as we reached the outskirts of the bustling metropolis that is Salina, we cam across a group of grey coated men suspiciously milling about the railroad tracks. Seeing a potential opportunity to write some copy for the Epitaph, not to mention out of my own curiosity, and that of Dr. Bell’s I might add, I approached them.
Needless to say we had stumbled across a sabotage bid by those rascals at Dixie Rails against their competitors at Union Blue, and to say they were not happy to see us is somewhat of an understatement. So, of course a melee ensued.
Our sharpshooters, Reginald Snipes and Tornado Tess hung back to offer support as the rest of the party engaged our new enemies. Our motley collective proved to be as formidable as I was led to believe, with our resident killing machines making short work of those Dixie Rail folk, and despite the sudden appearance of a surprise whirlwind, went as well as could be expected, despite our celestial friend finding himself on the receiving end of some Confederate justice.
Having seen off the last of those cowardly sons of bitches, we investigated the scene and discovered a suspect device; an explosive pressure pad bolted to the tracks for purposes of sabotage. Our scientist, Dr. Bell was able to disarm the device and remove the explosive material and what appeared to be some of that fascinating ghost rock. After this little skirmish we were free to enter Salina, unmolested.
Once we were in the town proper, we were able to find lodgings at the Salina Royale Hotel and I was free to attend the Post Office to telegraph Agent Cutter. As we went about our daily routines, we heard tell of strange goings on around the town. Stagecoaches and wagons on their way into, and out of Salina were disappearing. The consensus, and also the opinion of Dr. Bell (my companion for the day), was that bandits were to blame, but word was quickly spreading that ghostly apparitions were the true culprits. The unquiet dead of nearby battlefields had apparently been witnessed by some out-of-towners and many citizens take the existence of these wraiths as a given.
Upon telegraphing Agent Cutter of our arrival I received a package from him with the schematics of the stagecoach containing the weapons that had gone missing, just outside Salina as a matter of fact. Dr. Bell and I took these schematics to the Broken Horse Saloon where the rest of The Posse were imbibing their numerous vices. Also present were the aforementioned visitors who had witnessed these alleged manifestations. But my chance to interview them was sidelined by a fracas involving Johnny Lee Harker and a card game. He accused a fellow player of cheating, and you can guess, my dear readers, where it goes from here. Let’s just say more than harsh words were exchanged.
But of course, the law became involved in our little “misunderstanding” in the saloon, and now we were all heading down to the Sheriff’s Office. We had some explaining to do…