06. Wonderful Tour of Vomit

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Pulling open the door, I climbed into the coach and glanced from left to right with a friendly smile. "Hello, everyone."

Five people looked up at me with varying expressions. A small, bald man with tufts of hair above his ears was watching me with such ravenous intensity that I was sure he was either a pervert with a crush on Mr Victor Linton or a travelling salesman.

I was sincerely hoping for the latter.

Next to the salesman (Please let him try and sell me stuff, please!) sat a tall man with a moustache like a crowbar and a broad-brimmed hat casting shadows on his face. On the other bench sat a group of three, two younger women and one older. The younger women's eyes looked at me in a way that told me they most definitely did not want to sell me things.

"Hello! Hello and welcome!" Mr Baldy Eartufts said with a beaming smile. "Angleton is the name. Angus Angleton. Wonderful to have another travelling companion! The road can be so boring, dry and dusty, can't it? Which reminds me..." Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a brightly coloured bottle. "Would you like to give this a try? Fizzlewiz Fizzwater! A marvellously refreshing drink produced exclusively by Fizzlewiz & Co – Making your Day Fabulously Fizzing! I have the honour of being the representative for that esteemed company and would be more than happy to share some of this delicious drink. If you should happen to be interested in purchasing a few crates later..."

Oh, thank God! A salesman! Yay!

"Ehem...thank you very much." I inclined my head. "But I don't think that will be necessary."

Not to mention what Mr Rikkard Ambrose might do if I tried to make his day fabulously fizzing.

"Oh." Mr Angus Angleton's shoulders sank, his hopes squashed. Trying not to feel guilty, my eyes moved on to Mr Crowbar Moustache.

"William Gallagher." Tipping his hat, he pulled aside his dusty overcoat to reveal a shiny metal star pinned on his chest. "Sheriff William Gallagher. I'm travelling west to take my post." From the shadows, his piercing eyes zeroed in on the revolver at my waist. "There are many dubious characters out there, and it's my job to bring them to justice."

What a subtle man.

I turned to the three women on the other bench, hoping for more congenial travelling companions—only to be faced with glares chock full of disdain.

One of the two younger women cocked an eyebrow. "You're not him."

"Huh? Excuse me?"

"Hm. Forget it. Just sit down." She waved me away. "I'm Sophia Grant, and this is my sister Melanie Grant. We're respectable young ladies, so don't get any ideas! Our mother is here to chaperon us and is fiercely protective."

Beside her, the third and older woman gave a snore, her head sagging to the side.

"Yes." I nodded. "I can see that."

"Humph!"

Deciding to erase my insignificant existence from her awareness, the young lady turned her head away, towards her sister.

"So...you're sure that's not him?" Melanie whispered, pointing to me.

"Of course not! Don't be daft!"

The other passengers exchanged confused looks. Well, except for Mrs Grant, who was still blissfully snoring. I had to admit to some confusion as well. What the hell were they talking about?

Mr Angleton, helpful fellow that he was, decided to ask for me. "Um...excuse me, Miss? He who?"

"You don't know?"

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