house and since then it had been passed down through the Deadwood family to this day. It was a rough, tough sort of place. Not at all the kind where Lex could just stroll in as himself if he didn’t want to get his teeth knocked out. So, if he was going to make it past the front doors, he would have to learn how to be a cowboy? or at least pass himself off as once convincingly? and he had a sneaky feeling that that was probably going to be easier said than done. Some things you can teach yourself, but others you need help for, and Lex was certainly astute enough to know the difference.
‘I suppose I absolutely have to have a companion by the time the Game starts, do I?’ he said, without much hope.
‘Oh, yes,’ the Goddess said at once. ‘You won’t be allowed to start otherwise.’
‘That’s what I thought.’
The question, therefore, was how on earth was Lex going to find an outlaw from the Wild West in the Wither City within the next few days? Although the odd cowboy passed through from time to time, they were certainly not common for the simple reason that cowboys did not tend to have much money and so could not travel across seas very easily unless they went as stowaways.
The next morning, however, Lex was aware of a flurry of activity as soon as he stepped out on to the harbour. Something was obviously going on, but then something usually was so he didn’t pay it much heed as he pushed his way past the closed-up stalls, being careful to keep his arms tucked in and not touch anybody.
He was in a little winding street about five minutes away from the Chroniclers’ Guild when there was a shriek and someone yelled, ‘It’s him! It’s the outlaw, Jesse Layton! He’s getting away!’
Lex’s ears pricked up and his head snapped round just in time to see a palomino horse come galloping around the corner, hooves skidding on the cobbles, nostrils flaring, eyes rolling. It was a magnificent creature quite unlike the workhorses Lex was used to with their dull eyes and lowered heads.
And the man on its back was just as conspicuous for, in his flared trousers, checked shirt and wide-brimmed hat, he was a cowboy straight out of the pages of a Wild West novel.
Lex only had time for a brief look before he had to jump back against a shop, flattening his back against the wall to avoid being trampled by the huge horse. They fled past and, without a second’s thought, Lex raced after them. When he reached the square with the Chroniclers’ Guild and the Royal Monument he saw a whole lot of policemen rushing off in the direction of the city gates. He was about to follow but he stopped. It was too obvious. To escape the police, you had to do what they weren’t expecting you to do, and, if this cowboy had ever been chased before, he would know that. Lex looked around the square. What would he have done? Sent the horse off in the direction of the road leading out of the city, that much was obvious. And then… His eyes swept the square until he found what he was looking for: The Old Bear pub wedged in beside the Monument Restaurant in the far right hand corner.
Lex headed straight for it, went inside and? because he knew what he was looking for? found him at once. Right at the back, at a table all to himself, sat the cowboy, his hat pulled down low over his face and a pint of ale in his hand already. Lex walked over, pulled up a chair and sat down opposite him.
‘Are you really an outlaw from the Wild West?’ he said.
The cowboy looked up slowly, tipping his hat back with his thumb. Now that Lex could see him properly, he judged him to be about forty years old, with an unshaven face, a nose that had clearly been broken at some point in the past, crow’s feet at the corners of his blue eyes and a long pale scar that stretched from just below his right eye all the way down to his square jaw.
‘Is it that obvious?’ he asked. He spoke with a drawling accent Lex had never heard before.
‘Take your hat off!’ Lex said urgently.
The cowboy stared at him. ‘Now why ever would I do that? This here is my lucky hat.’
‘It’s going to get you caught!’ Lex replied, forcing himself not to glance nervously around the bar. ‘They probably won’t recognise your face but they’ll be looking for your hat. Your best bet would be to give it to someone else. Preferably someone who’s of a similar height and build to you.’
A gleam appeared in the cowboy’s eyes. ‘The old decoy gag, eh?’ He whipped off the hat to reveal untidy, longish brown hair. ‘You’re not as honest as you look, are you, friend?’ he said. ‘I take it you’re not thinking of trying to turn old Jesse Layton in to collect the reward money?’
‘I think you can help me,’ Lex said.
‘Probably, but I don’t help anyone but myself for free.’
‘Perhaps we can help each other.’
‘Can you make the sheriff and his men disappear into thin air?’ Jesse asked, staring out of the nearby window.
‘No, but I can-’
‘Then I don’t think you can help me much, kid,’ the cowboy said. ‘Just keep your mouth shut, eh?’
And with that he grabbed his hat and ducked under the table. A moment later the door opened and five police officers walked in, staring suspiciously around the room. Everyone fell silent at the realisation that there was about to be trouble.
‘Listen up,’ one of the officers said. ‘We’re looking for a dangerous outlaw by the name of Jesse Layton. Someone said he came in here. Any of you lot seen ’im? He’s a big fella with one of them cowboy hats, spurs on his boots and the like.’
‘He was here,’ Lex said before anyone else could speak. ‘But then he left. Went out the back door not five minutes ago. If you hurry, you can catch him.’
The police were halfway to the door when a nearby woman pointed and shrieked, ‘There’s a man under the table!’
‘Oh, don’t worry about him. He just can’t hold his drink-’ Lex began, but it was no good. The police were doggedly coming over to check it out.
Sensing what was about to happen, Lex jumped up from his seat and hurled himself to one side, thereby narrowly missing getting hit in the face with the table as Jesse burst out from under it, knocking two policemen down before they even knew what had happened.
And then there was a bar-room brawl.
Lex had seen fights break out like this before but he had never seen anyone as quick on their feet as Jesse Layton. Despite the fact that there were five policemen there, he very nearly got away. Lex ducked behind the bar as soon as the fighting started, whilst all the other customers headed straight for the doors. Lex was rather disappointed that no one got thrown along the bar, knocking all the glasses off to smash on the floor, for it was the kind of thing you expected in a brawl. Jesse got cornered against it at one point, though, whereupon Lex promptly handed him a glass bottle.
‘Thanks, kid,’ the cowboy said. He actually took a swig from it before smashing it down on the counter and then wielding it in such a threatening manner that the advancing policemen took a few nervous steps back.
‘I ain’t going back to Cactus Valley! You hear me? Not now, not ever! I’m dangerous and I’m desperate and the first guy who tries to arrest me is going to be eating broken bottle for dinner!’
Oh yes, Lex thought, this is the man I need, no doubt about it. He was perfect! What luck that he should have come to the Wither City right at this particular time! Lex even wondered whether Lady Luck herself may have given a helping hand in bringing the two of them together. The cowboy certainly looked like the sort of person she would choose.
‘I’m going to back out of here nice and slow,’ Jesse said. ‘You goons stay there and we won’t have any upsets.’
He made it right to the doorway when a sixth policeman appeared behind him and whacked the cowboy so hard round the head with his truncheon that Lex wouldn’t have been surprised if it had actually come off his shoulders. He couldn’t help but wince as the bottle fell from Jesse’s hand to smash at his feet and, still looking faintly surprised, the cowboy thumped down on to his knees to crumple, face down, on the floor.
The policemen all started cheering and congratulating themselves but Lex was livid with anger. ‘You better not have done him any serious injury!’ he fumed at the officer with the truncheon.
But the policeman just shrugged and said with a grin, ‘The reward poster says, “dead or alive”.’
‘Clearly you don’t know who you’re dealing with,’ Lex said coldly. He pointed at the prone cowboy. ‘This man is a companion to one of the players in the upcoming Game.’
‘Huh. What would you know about it, boy?’ the officer sneered.
