Ray spent the remainder of the afternoon in his room under Scarlet Dove. A candle flickered at the bedside. Ray laid on the floor, the spot where he had been during his descent. He gazed up at the ceiling with his hat on his chest and plotted his next move.<br/><br/>People had heard of him by now: the lunatic Follower of Sekt (they were all lunatics, they had to be) that shacked up with that whore and couldn't save her damned boy. Tom Wallace, a cowboy who worked at Spanner's Ranch and suspiciously loyal customer of Darla's, convinced himself that he was the boy's father. If Darla hadn't kept him secret, Tom would have raised the boy right and holy. He could have been a family man, with something more in his life than cow shit and the bottle. Tom had been drinking all day at the ranch, sipping from a whiskey jug in the shade of an acacia tree. He was ready for a nap when a stubborn black billy goat trudged up to him.<em>He took your boy, Tom.</em>the goat whispered.<em>Send him to hell. It's what he deserves.</em>Tom shut his eyes and slapped himself to sober up, but the idea took root. It was only fair.<br/><br/>Ray left Scarlet Dove's around nightfall, when the candle burned out. He made his way through town and felt the curious eyes from windows and porches crawl over him. The heavy smell of incense beckoned him to<strong>Jian-Xi's</strong>, where he was now a regular. "'Scuse me, sir." he muttered as he narrowly slipped past John in the doorway. Ray hadn't seen the mountainous man in town before. His aura was like stone, as if he were molded up from the earth like a golem.<br/><br/>"Howdy, Chen." Ray greeted the owner, tipping his hat to the man and his family. Chen smiled, smoke billowing through his nostrils, and Li giggled a soft "Hello, Mr. McAllister." The back shelves held a library of herbs and spices in red clay pots, neatly labelled with their names and practical uses. Generally for tea and medicine, but Ray used them for more esoteric purposes. He loaded some satchels with holly, ash seeds, and anise. He left his coins at the counter and waved goodbye. "So long."<br/><br/>Ray made his way to<strong>Cartwright's</strong>for something to eat. He glided through the doors without a squeak, not eager to draw any attention. The saloon was barely bustling, most folks had gone to bed by now. The piano player was improvising. Ray found a corner table and settled in. Arnold the Drunk, grinning ear to ear, shambled up and sat across from him. Ray scowled and rested his chin on his hand.<em>Here it comes.</em>"I wanna git yourself a drank!" Arnold babbled. "C'mon, Sektor man, drink one! Ehhehahah!!!"<br/><br/>As he had explained to Arnold several times before, the Followers of Sekt were forbidden to drink alcohol. To carry out the work of Sekt, your mind needed to be clear. To maximize your time in this base plane of existence, your body needed to be healthy. Alcohol was a detriment to both. But Arnold thought Ray had a stick up his ass and only a shot of tequila would loosen it up. "If you leave me alone," Ray said, "I'll buy you a shot."<br/><br/>"Sold!" Arnold smiled and slammed his dirty fist onto the table, knocking the salt shaker to the floor. Ray rolled his eyes and bent down to pick it up, and in that instant, Tom Wallace burst through the door like thunder. "M-MURDERER!" he screamed, weeping. His gun was drawn and he fired. Ray dropped to the floor on his belly and the bullet whistled its way into poor Arnold's head. Ray kicked the table over to build some cover between him and the madman and drew his own revolver, but it was no good. He hadn't reloaded since returning from his trip. He fumbled for the bullets in his pockets. Another shot rang out and the edge of the table splintered. "Damnit!!!" he cursed, and prayed that someone else in Cartwright's had a loaded gun.