Journeyed Too Far West

January 24th, 1872

Arrived in Rose Dust today. Got a good overlook from the stagecoach as it crested a hill. Little more than a collection of shabby buildings all jumbled together in the bottom of horseshoe-shaped gulley. Timber frames of future dwellings out on the fringes, plenty of carpenters at work. Only places of merit seem to be the assay office and the town hall, maybe the local saloon. Not sure why Rose Dust has the name it does, but clearly a fresh boomtown; even the railroad hasn’t come out this far.

Met with Mayor Chandler, took me to Hoc’s saloon for drinks and to discuss my settling into town. Said his wife didn’t tolerate the thought of him drinking in his office. Friendly, just like in the letters. Offered to put me up in the hotel for the night while he finishes getting my place secured. Never met a man so outright welcoming in my life. Odd that he greets me so warmly; they must really need an undertaker.


January 27th, 1872

Been a few days now, and am all settled into my business –Paul Worthington, Undertaker and Casket-Maker. Has a nice ring to it, don’t it? Not much work yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Already got three caskets made and on display. Not too shabby.

Mr. Chandler’s been helpful, getting me some missing supplies. Been meeting him and a few other regulars most nights at Hoc’s saloon, less for the drink and more for the conversation; there’s Hoc himself, got a wooden eye and no hair on his head to speak of; and Chandler’s poker buddy Horace – a thin chucklehead, really. Constantly smokes expensive cigars and tries to bum money off Chandler. I think he’s also an easterner, from Mississippi. There’s Louisa, the waitress, a really pretty black-haired gal that’s smart as a whip. Then there’s Rain Eyes, queer old Indian, works at the livery making metal bits and horseshoes, hangs around the same barstool every night. Never says a word and keeps to himself, but nods and smiles at me when I come in.

Plenty of people passing through, most talking about the silver mine. Biggest vein ever discovered in Nevada. Most folks figure they can turn a decent profit. Glad I’m not interested myself - getting rich is one thing, but going into the dark underground to get it is another. Been putting plenty of people in the ground myself. Better to stay above and hear about it. Rose Dust is plenty active and exciting. Glad I came out here. Nothing like this happening back east.


January 30th, 1872

First stiffs buried today. Took care of them good and solemn-like. Both funerals went well. Kept me busy most of the day. Mr. Chandler was on hand for each. Says he didn’t know either very well, but felt it was his duty as mayor to see them off. A good man, that Chandler.

Didn’t hang around Hoc’s too long last night. Chandler seemed to be arguing with Horace, the latter spitting expensive cigar smoke everywhere. Didn’t catch all of it, except it seemed to be about gambling debts, Horace also thinking the silver mine will go bust soon. They were getting pretty angry, so decided to clear out. Rain Eyes smiled at me as I left, but he looked weary.


February 1st, 1872

Big storm brewing to the east today. Huge thunderheads took up half the sky, lower clouds near black. Lightning out on the plains, and thunder. Impressive spectacle.

While watching this, Rain Eyes came up and grabbed me by the shoulder. Face like the Grand Canyon, eyes all misty and living up to his name, he looks me dead in the face and says something big is coming. Most he’s ever said to me. Then he turns and walks away. Figure he meant the storm, but it never got much closer to town, just hovered out on the plains all day.

Didn’t see Chandler or his idiot friend today at Hoc’s. Rain Eyes was there, but said nothing, didn’t even look at me. Louisa told me he’d been muttering to himself about the storm earlier, that it was a bad sign. Strange.


February 2nd, 1872

More business today: took casket measurements for Mrs. Douglas, and old Stanley Creech found dead in his bed this morning. Buried an anonymous Chinaman Mr. Chandler found outside of town, had to use one of my display caskets for a quick burial. Almost ask Chandler about the argument with Horace when he offers to cover the funeral expenses, but I take it anyway.

Only Rain Eyes for company again at Hoc’s. He broke his usual silence, started yammering about thunderbirds and bad omens. Hoc rolled his wooden eye at this, but I listened. It seemed to make Rain Eyes feel better. Learned a lot about a time when animals were more like people and gods were a lot closer to earth; going to have to write them down sometime. Fascinating stuff.

Heard a rumor going around the saloon that strange sounds have been coming from the depths of the mine all day, no one able to figure out what or where from. Some folks are right spooked, thinking the place may be haunted. Hogwash, I say.


February 3rd, 1872

Long entry, hardly know where to start! Having a hard time making sense of all this...Was it even real?

Went to Hoc’s for breakfast. Place was fairly full, what with all the miners coming in and getting ready for the day. I’m sitting all by myself at a table when in walks this peculiar-looking figure with a big staff over one shoulder. Even with his hat pulled low on his head, could see his face was hairy as sin. Walked funny too, practically lopes over to the bar and starts chattering at Hoc in a low voice. First really off thing was noting the tail – a thin brown tail poking out the top of this fellow’s britches! Thought it was a belt at first, but it moved and curled as he sat there! A goddamned tail! Couldn’t believe my eyes!

Then this other stranger comes in, huge fat man with a white bandanna around his face and too-small black hat jammed on his head, visible skin as pink as a newborn’s. Had some sort of garden rake with a silver head on his shoulder. Saw him stare hard at Louisa – who stared hard back – then lumber over to hairy feller and start ordering food, like he doesn’t even see the tail!

By this point folks in the room were noticing, and they start watching. Hoc’s baffled, rightfully so! Couldn’t tell what they’re saying but the man with the staff’s angry. I think Hoc offered him a drink but the dude refused. He gets up and scampers – literally scambers – to the middle of the room, jumps up on a table next to mine.

“Listen up!” he yells. “I’m looking for a monk and a white horse! Anyone seen them, they better speak up!”

He stands there with his arms folded and glares at everyone. Looking up at him, I see that this feller was not just whiskery: I see the face of a monkey under that hat, clear as day!

Horace, sitting over in some shady corner, makes a crass remark about his mother, and I’m still sitting there wondering why the Hell no one is seeing what I see. Monkey-man points his staff at him and calls him out. Horace saunters over with all this confidence and cigar smoke, tells the stranger he hasm’t seen anything of the sort, and if he had he wouldn’t tell him. Laughter around the room. Monkey-man looks pretty annoyed, and his fat friend is chowing down over at the bar, shoveling platefuls of Hoc’s eggs into his mouth. With his bandanna down, I see he had a pig’s snout! Dude’s actually a pig in disguise!

What in the good Lord’s name am I dealing with?

Monkey-man asks about the monk and horse again, calm-like. Horace just grins and blows cigar smoke in the stranger’s face. Well that monkey, he falls off the table, shrieking and screaming like...Well, like a monkey! It’s like he’s been shot or something. He jumps back up, rubs his eyes, and points his staff at Horace. Still not sure how, but the staff gets longer really fast and smashes Horace right in nose! Sends him flying across the saloon like he’d been hit with a cannonball!

I shaking in my shoes by this point, and I bolt, skedaddled right out of there just as the fight starts. I think the folk of Rose Dust have been itching for something like this, because suddenly things turn into an all-out brawl, the monkey in the middle. Just before I left, saw the monkey’s pig friend get up and take up his rake before charging in.

Been hiding at home since. Hearing gunfire and yelling at random intervals all day. I don’t know what to make of it all – a man who looks like a monkey walks into a bar and demands a monk and a horse, and a pig too? Is this what Rain Eyes was talking about? What the hell is going on? Am I going crazy? Has the whole damn world gone crazy?

Keeping my gun handy just in case.


February 4th, 1872

No reprieve from nonsense for me, no sir. A third weird feller shows up on my doorstep early this morning and knocks, ugly son of a gun with sallow skin and a tangled red beard. I take no chances, but when I point my pistol in his face and demand to know what the hell he wants, he bows and introduces himself as Sandy, saying he meant no harm, like my gun in his face means nothing! At least he’s civil, first thing he does is apologize “for the behavior of his two companions.” Turns out Sandy’s in cahoots with the monkey and the pig-man. Tells me they’d gotten hopelessly turned around and had lost two other companions. Asks if I’d seen the monk-and-horse duo, told him I hadn’t and that he’d better clear off. He didn’t raise a stink about it or anything, just thanked me for my time and left.

Decided to venture out into town by afternoon, was going stir-crazy and needed to get some straight answers. Found out lots of people hurt in the fight yesterday, but no deaths. Apparently the monkey and his buddy have been making a ruckus all over town, turning things upside-down looking for this monk. Actually saw the two of them with Sandy ‘round 2 o’ clock, cornered by a bunch of mean hombres out front of the livery. Mr. Chandler was with them, shouting about a reward for their capture. Never seen Chandler so red in the face. These men tried to all go at Monkey at once, but he sweeps them all aside with his staff like nothing. Then he jumps up and downright vanishes! VANISHES! No other way I can put it!

The pig, well, he just snorts and bowls over those left standing, running off down the street. As they left, I saw Sandy apologizing to the groaning folks on the ground. Chandler stood there gaping, like he didn’t know what to do. Can’t say I blame him. Is this just how people are out west? Crazy things happen and no one bats an eye but me?

Definitely going to need a stiff drink. Going to risk heading over to Hoc’s, hope to get the usual gang’s thoughts on all this.


February 5th, 1872

Past midnight, but needed to write about what happened at the saloon. If anyone else ever reads this, I swear to God that I’m not a crackpot.

I get there and find Sandy at the bar chatting with Rain Eyes like they’re old friends. They call me over, Sandy buys me some whiskey. Notice he’s drinking something fizzy, probably gin and tonic. Sandy asks me why we call Rain Eyes an Indian, says it confuses him. I mention Columbus. Sandy doesn’t seem to get it, but Rain Eyes laughs and says “just another ignorant pale-face.” Rain Eyes tells me he’s Lakota.

“So Columbus overshot India too?” asks Sandy.

Before I can ask what Sandy means, Monkey and Pig walk in, and the place goes quiet. Monkey looks around, sees me sitting with his friend and glares. I meet his eye, and I feel like my soul’s getting peered at, like he’s a judge and I’m a crook. Then Monkey nods like he’s satisfied, even smiles. Pig grabs a table, grunts at Louisa to bring him food. Hoc doesn’t seem to like having them around, but what could he do about it? No one in the saloon seems to know what to do, and I hope they’re as baffled about all this as I am!

Rain Eyes starts asking Sandy lots of questions, and soon I join in. We talk awhile, and here’s what I gather: Monkey, Pig and Sandy had all come from the Far East – by that, I mean the Orient. They were on a long journey to help their missing monk gather some scrolls, and something happened to get them lost, something involving sorcery or magic or some other nonsense. Didn’t catch all of what was said, Sandy saying names of places and things that sounded foreign. Didn’t bother Rain Eyes none. He seems to get it, tells Sandy he knew something was going to happen because of the thunderbirds, says something peculiar’s in the air, mentions the eerie sounds coming from the mine lately, how it’s literally scaring some folks so bad they won’t go in.

Course no one bothers to explain any of this to me, poor town undertaker who’s barely been west a week and gets caught up in fantastic happenings. I try and get Sandy to slow down, give me more basics. Sandy seems to like talking about this, tells me he and his compadres were chosen – get this – by Heaven to guard this monk and atone for past sins! What am I supposed to make of that? Are they demons? Sandy says no, but that he used to eat people, and then I’m really confused and a little more scared because he looks the most normal of the bunch... And that’s saying something!

Things get interrupted by Pig making a commotion. Apparently he said some lewd things to Louisa and made a grab at her. Got a knee to the jewels for it, stupid bastard. Pig’s on the ground squealing and Monkey’s yelling at him when the doors open and a posse of armed men storm in, Chandler and Horace leading them. Horace is livid, nose all bandaged. Points a gun at Monkey, tells him to come quietly or they’ll off him then and there. Monkey and Pig just stare at them, then bust out laughing. Monkey says he’d like to see them try – saw him pluck a bunch of hair out of his tail, toss them in the air – and suddenly the room is full of a dozen Monkeys!

A big old fight starts (again!), with all these duplicate Monkeys going at the mob while the Pig takes wild swings with his rake. Bullets, fists, glasses and people start flying. Sandy, Rain Eyes and I all look at each other and dive over the bar to hide and watch from behind something, Louisa and Hoc already there. Over the noise I yell to Sandy “Are they always like this?”

Sandy replies “Only when our master isn’t around!”

We’re stuck back there for a good five minutes, and I’m cringing and wishing I had stayed back east. Sandy stays composed and calm except for whenever a glass breaks, where he winces. Tells me later the sound brings up bad memories.

Fight gets pushed outside, Pig and the multiple Monkeys driving the mob back. Before that I see Chandler split, get out the door before anyone else. Sandy apologizes to Hoc and Louisa, hops over the bar to follow them.

Hoc was heartbroken at the damage, and I see some folk scattered around like they might not get up again. Stayed there late taking measurements, and then snuck home, Rain Eyes seeing me at least halfway. I can’t sleep, thinking about what I saw. Almost too much to take, so mad and yet...Part of me is intrigued, wondering what these guys are doing here, wondering what they’ll do to Rose Dust if they can’t find their monk.

Better get an early start on those caskets.


February 6th, 1872
Been nothing but insanity lately, will try to sum it up.

Saw the aftermath of the fight in broad daylight. Apparently the monkeys ran around town making mischief once the posse broke up. Seen a lot of strange characters painted on houses, which I reckoned were Chinese. Sandy tells me they translate to “Great Sage, equal to Heaven.”

Speaking of, found Sandy hiding in the rain barrel behind my place. Would have yelled at him about all this nonsense but saw he was blubbering like a baby. Told me he’d failed, and that the “flying swords” would be here any time now to punish him. He said he couldn’t control Monkey and Pig, that only the monk could. Must have been out of pity that I let him sit in the barrel while I went around town – think he’s sleeping in there even now. Honestly baffled about what to do about him, but don’t want to turn him out. Seems to be the only one who will speak logically to me.

Met Chandler to deal with the stiffs on our hands, had to get a wagon to haul some of them back to the parlor. He’s mad as hell, says he’s going to get the Marshal, the Calvary, anyone that can deal with these troublemakers. Left Horace in charge while he’s gone, said he’ll be back tomorrow morning – all the good that’ll do, Horace is all bandaged up and can hardly walk. Hasn’t done much to quell his spirit though. He’s already raising the reward for Monkey’s capture, says he’ll throw in raw silver from the mine.

Don’t think he’ll have many takers. Everyone’s scared of that darn monkey, and rightfully so.

Rain Eyes met me just as Chandler was leaving town, says we need to find that monk and horse or Rose Dust is going to be dust before we’re through, and I believe him. Only other rational man in town! He tells me Chandler and Horace have something to hide, that the day after the thunderstorm Rain Eyes got tasked to make a silver bit and bridle with some stuff pulled from the mine. He didn’t know what to make of it ‘til today, when he saw Chandler riding out on a white horse with that same bit and bridle.

Strange that he seems to trust me, but I kind of like it. Makes me feel like I can do something, find a way to solve things instead of cleaning up after. Don’t know anything about all this magic business, but I never forget who I bury. And I have a hunch, just dawned on me. Heading out to the graveyard now.


February 7th, 1872
My hunch was right.

Went out to find Sandy snoring away in my rain barrel where I’d left him. Told him to go find Monkey, Pig and Rain Eyes and bring them all to the parlor. Said I had something important to show them.

The Chinaman looked no worse for the wear, despite being down in the ground nearly a week, all reposed like he was just sleeping. I’d dug him up and laid him out in my office, explained to the strangers what happened, and asked them to identify the body. They said it was their missing monk and stared at him a long, long time. Felt they should at least get a chance to mourn him, know that there was foul play.

Then Monkey reaches down and bops the corpse on the head with his staff, and lo and behold, the man sits up! I damn near fainted!

The monk seemed pretty calm, considering he’d been dead for the last few days! Couldn’t understand a word he said, but he argued with Monkey almost the whole time. Monkey would retort with something in the same language, so the monk would chant and Monkey reeled like he’d been hit. Saw a flash of gold under his hat every time this happened. Sandy and Pig laughed at this.

Little by little Rain Eyes and I get the story from the monk through his disciples translating. They’d all gotten separated during the thunderstorm, and the monk had performed some sort of spell to keep from getting killed, right before he was struck by lightning! Odd, considering he didn’t look charred when I first saw him when. After that he knew nothing until Monkey woke him. Rain Eyes is grim, mutters about thunderbirds again. Monkey says he’s “seen my intentions” and that I’m to be trusted. I tell the monk what I can, Sandy translates, and the monk looks pleased and thanks me. Says they’ll clear out as soon as they find his horse. Problem is, Chandler’s got it.

Then someone shoots a bullet through my window. Looks like all the men in town turned up outside, calling for the strangers’ heads. Now I’m mad as hell, but the monk, he don’t seem daunted. He looks at his friends and they look at him, and he nods. They head out to face mob. I spot Horace with them and think: “dead man walking.”

Got to say, watching what happened from the door, I was terrified and impressed all at once. Monkey makes his staff grow and shrink faster than a man could get a bead on him with his gun, and can outdraw a dude like this. Pig’s all girth and strength, and he tosses people around like they’re nothing. Even Sandy got in on the fight, saw him use a shovel with a bunch of metal rings stuck in it as a weapon, puts folks on the ground left and right like he’s dancing around them. I’m counting caskets in my head as I watch, realized I’m going to be even busier pretty soon!

Rain Eyes and I clear out the back door; the monk stays to frown at his disciples. Rain Eyes suggests we go to Mr. Chandler’s to get the horse, if he’s back already. With all the fighting concentrated in front of my place, we avoid the worst of it and get to Chandler’s right quick. Chandler’s there, without any backup from outside town – who would believe him? But there’s no horse in the stables. Rain Eyes and I try to tell Chandler what’s up, but he won’t budge, says he has no clue what we’re talking about, deflects my questions, tries half-assed excuses, and finally gets mad. Draws his gun on me and tells me to get out, yells that what he’s doing is for the good of the town, and that he won’t have anyone question him.

What else could I do? Rain Eyes and I leave, hide out at Hoc’s and drink whiskey while we wait for word from the others.

As I write, they’re all downstairs in my parlor, none of the fighting folk hurt in the slightest but leaving most of the able-bodied men of the town whipped and bloody. I can hear the monk and his monkey arguing again, trying to figure out how to find the horse – my guess is Monkey wants to smash Chandler like he did Horace this afternoon (Horace is downstairs too, occupying one of my freshly-built caskets), and the monk is wants to do things differently. I’m convinced this whole town is full of madmen and idiots, and the only sane people anymore are the outright bizarre “people” I now associate with. Worst part is, no one is ever going to believe me when this all boils over...if this all boils over and I’m still in one piece!


February 8th, 1872

Just after I finished writing last night, I had an epiphany: Rain Eyes’ silver bit and bridle, and the strange things going on in the mine before the foreigners showed up, gave me an idea about where the horse is. With this in mind, the six of us head out in the dark and sneak across town to the mine. Told them I’d stay outside and keep watch while they looked around inside, but they pass me a lamp and shove me along with them.

Being down there, in the dark and the dust, made me nervous. I’m shaking in my boots while we look for the horse, going down all these support-filled tunnels and listening for any sound. I never wanted to go in, think you should only be surrounded by earth when you’re dead. It dawns on me that part of the reason I became an undertaker, putting others under like I have power over death; the monk, and the mine, made me see otherwise.

And the noises! Every once and awhile, I hear this sound, like a scream and a roar put together coming from somewhere in the mine, and it doesn’t sound like any horse I’d heard. It echoes, and it chills me to the marrow. The monk pauses each time, and follows the sound, and it gets louder and louder ‘til we come to this tunnel, boarded off, condemned. Pig pulls the boards aside – they’re on hinges, which is odd – and we see a chamber absolutely full of untapped silver veins, shining in the lamplight. Second thing I see is this huge shadow thrown on the wall, a huge coiling snake-like shape, all jaws and claws.

Then I blink and see it’s just the light glinting off the silver, and there’s only a white horse tied to a post in the room.

There’s a big reunion, everyone pretty happy to be reunited. We get out of the mine as quick as we can, the monk leading the horse along. They all talk to it like it’s an old friend, like it understands them – by this point, it wouldn’t surprise me.

First thing we do is go straight to Chandler’s – its sunup by this point, and only Rain Eyes and I seem tired. Chandler goes white when he answers the door and sees us, drops his gun in the dirt. Faced with a dead man and his disciples, he quickly gives up and admits his deeds: He’d found the monk and horse out on the plains the day of the thunderstorm, one dead and the other whinnying at the sky. Says he saw the horse transform into something else for a second, put two and two together, brought them back to Horace and the two of them gleaned that there was some sort of magic involved.

They wanted to use it to make themselves rich, figure out how to get the horse to grant them wishes or turn into an elephant, anything that would justify what Chandler swears he saw. The horse was complacent until they took the monk away and had me bury him, then it turned ornery. Only the silver bridle that Rain Eyes made, something Chandler had him make for of vanity, could make the horse complacent. Turns out Rose Dust silver has a peculiar effect on it, weakens it somehow. When they weren’t trying to ride it, they kept it locked up in the mine surrounded by silver to stop it from escaping.

Now Horace is gone and Chandler is weeping and begging for forgiveness, and the three disciples look like they’re ready to put him down. But the monk seemed to forgive him, just like that! Simply bowed and touched his head and that was that. They all have a good laugh, except Chandler; Rain Eyes and I laugh too, but it’s all nerves.

They all left soon after. Rain Eyes and I saw them off, and Rain Eyes told them to watch out for more thunderbirds. They told me they were headed back east, try and get their directions right this time. Monkey shook my hand and said “his eyes never fail him;” Pig sighed, said he was glad they were leaving, “weren’t enough pretty girls in this town;” and Sandy chuckled and said this was an odd change of pace, that normally their master was the target of greedy schemers, and here he was just tossed aside in favor of the horse.

The monk thanked us by giving Rain Eyes and I bags filled with gold coins – foreign, but they’re bound to be worth something. Part of me is going to miss those strange fellers.

Thinking I’ll close shop and head back east too. Things are too strange out here.