The Outlaw and The Agent - L.S

Chapter 1

Louis Tomlinson,

April 12th, 1887,

Today has been nothing short of hectic, and it's just 10 AM. Right now, I'm on a train heading to El Paso, Texas—a place I've never been. I've always preferred sticking to the north. The heat is something I really dread; it makes my line of work so much harder. Watching the lush green fields of Illinois fade away, giving way to the dry, desert plains, makes me miss Chicago even more. Chicago feels safe and familiar. From everything I've read in the newspapers, the South doesn't seem very safe. It's infamous for harboring some of the worst outlaws. It's a daunting thought as I realize I'm heading straight into that chaos—the heart of Texas. I can't believe I let Liam convince me to take this case. I feel so stupid for agreeing. In his letter, he insisted this would be a very special case. I just hope it lives up to that promise; I really don't want to risk my life for something that isn't worth it. This better be worth the pay, or else... I just don't know what I'll do, I swear-

The train lurched to a halt with a high-pitched screech.

"El Paso," someone shouted from down the aisle.

Louis huffed and quickly put his journal away. He stood up from his seat, hand on his briefcase, and made his way toward the back of the train where his extra trunk awaited him.

Sighing, Louis ran a hand down the front of his suit; the wool and the Texas heat were a difficult combination to endure.

Once off the train, he found his trunk. Thankfully, Liam had already arranged transport for him— a stagecoach.

"Perfect," Louis thought sarcastically. "Make me a target for anyone looking to rob me."

"Oh, please, sir, let me get that!" said the driver of the stagecoach, already lifting Louis's trunk from his hands.

Louis rolled his eyes and stepped to the side of the stagecoach, noticing the two giant Shire horses staring at him, their coats gleaming in the Texas sun.

Once he climbed into the coach, Louis took a moment to survey his surroundings. There was really nothing to see—just a train station in the middle of the desert. The town of El Paso was a bit of a ride away, but Louis didn't mind. It gave him time to think about his case.

The issue was that he had no idea what the case involved. Liam had given him no details. Was it about an outlaw? Perhaps a wanted gang? Or maybe some civil issues?

These thoughts raced through Louis's mind as the stagecoach began to move. He slumped in his seat, and the end of his revolver started digging into his side.

Louis must have spaced out, because the next thing he knew, he was being woken up by the driver.

"Excuse me, sir, we have arrived," the driver said gently.

Louis' eyes fluttered open as the sun beamed through the coach's windows.

El Paso, finally.

Louis stepped out of the coach and surveyed his surroundings. His expression fell as he took in the sight before him.

A dirty, muddy road led into a town that seemed years behind Chicago. It had only the essentials: a general store, a doctor, a saloon, and the building right in front of Louis.

He looked up at the old structure, where a wooden sign read, "Pinkerton Detective Agency."

With a sigh, Louis retrieved his trunk from the stagecoach. He rummaged through his pocket for money and finally found a crumpled $2 bill.