We picked ourselves up and dusted ourselves off. Something weird was going on and neither me nor Brad liked it much. Those gals had cast some kinda spell on us and sent us somewhere, or somewhen, else. The place looked too much like the place we had just left to be coincidence so something had happened to knock us out or something. Maybe we'd been here for days and a a fun fair had moved in or something, was the best idea I could come up with.
Me and Brad approached the guy with the wagon.
"Hey buddy, where you headed?"
The man turned and spat. He was dressed like some kinda cowboy, wild west style. Maybe that fun fair was some kinda fancy dress.
"Headed down to the fayre, they be openin' the mines and I'm there to sell my wares. When there's parties, there people willin' to share their coins on a quality firearm or two. You boys okay, you're lookin' a little roughed up, cry your pardon."
"Opening? When did that happen? What day is it? When we were last down in the down, they said the place'd been shut down for years."
"Years? Hell you boys been played for fools by some mischief maker. Let me guess, you boys got yourselves lied to and lured out here, got yourself robbed, right? That mine just been built, gonna make that town mighty rich and I'm heading down to share in the spoils. Name's Donague, Nathan Donague. I make the finest guns in all the rest and don't you go believin' otherwise."
I looked at Brad and he looked at me. Either this was some crazy gaff or we'd just gone travelled back in time.
"Well, you guessed right. We'd be mighty appreciative if you could give me and my partner here a lift down to the fayre. Maybe we'll find them that roughed us up down there and have us a reckoning."
Nathan slapped me on the back and laughed. "Sounds mighty fine to me boy. Hop on in."
Brad and I squeezed into the wagon and we set off down towards the mines. As the cart rumbled along, Brad and I whispered to each other.
"Those witches gone and went back to the future on our asses."
"You know what that means right?" Brad said, a grin on his face.
"What? That we're royally screwed ten ways from Sunday?"
"No ejit, means I got another chance. If we're back in time, might be that werewolf's still living and if he's still living, means we can kill 'em."
"Hell yeah," I said, a grin spreading on my face to mirror Brad's, "that's right and you know what? I bet everyone whose anyone is gonna be down at the fayre celebrating the mine's opening, we could find him tonight!"
Brad suddenly looked sick.
"Brad, what is it?"
"Our truck, it had all our stuff in it, all our silver and guns and crap. It's gone, how we gonna nail that S.O.B now?"
The wagon began to slow down as he approached the last slope down to the fayre. We could hear the noise from here. This close, it was quite a sight.
"Well, nearly there boys. Hope you find what you're searching for and not just an early grave." Nathan said, his eyes still looking ahead, focused on the trail ahead.
The wagon stopped.
"Hey Nate, something the matter?"
He swung around and grinned conspiratorially. "Ain't nothin' the matter. Look, can you boys keep a secret? I know you boys wont cross me, you both unarmed and I'm a gunsmith, you'd be fools t'try."
Brad and I nodded, confused.
"I'm meeting a man at this here fayre, a patron o' mine. Commissioned some of my finest work, no, say I the finest work I ain't never done before. It's a damn shame to give it up so I was thinking I might show it to you boys, let more than just the one man know that Nathan Donague ain't nought but the finest gunsmith in the west. You boys think think you could do that for me, bear witness to some of the finest craftin' you'll ever likely to see?"
Brad and I heaved a sigh of relief and laughed. "Sure thing Nate, I think we'd like that."
Gently, almost reverently, the old man slid out a panel form the floor of his wagon and pulled out a beautifully inlaid wooden box. To my eyes it looked like it might be magic, the patterns were so intricate it had to be some kinda funky voodoo but I said nothing. He took out a key from a chain around his neck and opened the box and we looked at what was inside.
The box was lines with purple velvet upon which laid two of the most beautiful sixshooters I'd ever seen in my life. Black metal, polished and shiny and inlaid with silver patterns and grips. They were painfully beautiful and below them, embedded in the plush velvet lay twelve silver bullets. I realised I was holding my breath.
"By God Nate, they're beautiful!" I breathed out.
Suddenly, a fist shot out and slammed Nate in the head and to my surprise, Brad grabbed a gun and a handful of bullets from the box and leaped out of the wagon, running as fast as he could the rest of the way to the fayre. Nate was up, quick as a snake his gun trained on me.
"What the heel was that boy, your friend got one hell of a punch. You in on this? You lie to me and I'll blow your brains outta your ears!"
Hands up, I shook my head slowly. Nate considered it for a moment and decide I must've been telling the truth for he slipped his pistol back into it's holster.
"My patron is paying a lot o'money for them guns. I'll cut you in on it if you get that one back, I'm too old to go galavanting off after a boy with a wallop like that'un. Take one of my basics, one of the cheap guns and get it back and I'll see you in the money. Nathan Donague ain't never disappointed a commission yet, ain't gonna start now."
"Why'd you trust me?"
"I know a liar when I sees one and you were just as surprised as I was? You sayin' I shouldn't be trustin' you?" Nathan eyed me up.
"I'll get it back. Least I can do for the ride. I real sorry 'bout this."
"Don't be sorry, be greedy. There's a lotta money riding on this. You get that gun back no matter what it takes, you hear me? No matter what."
I nodded, furious inside. Brad was gonna get one hell of a slap when I caught up with him.