[color=00aeef][b]Rick Matthews – Salina [/b][/color]

Rick was on his bed looking at the ceiling. It had been some time since he had slept in a real bed. For the past few weeks, he had spent most of his time on the road, sleeping on the ground or beds that didn’t deserved being called a bed. This one was soft and comfortable, which to him felt odd but satisfying.

He was hesitant to et up, but had no choice, he needed to fetch Civil and feed him, unless he had found some food on his own. Plus, he needed to keep an eye on those foreigners, see what their true intentions were. Also, should he come across a ghost rock mine, he would need to let his superiors know.

He got dressed, and the enticing smell of bacon called to him. He headed to the dining room and requested a breakfast plate, nothing like some good bacon and eggs in the morning. He quickly scarfed down his food, and followed it up with some dark coffee. He headed outside, the sun shining high in the sky, relentless as always. He pulled out a pre rolled cigarette and lit it as he looked around for his horse. 

He let out a distinct whistle and waited for a bit. Soon he saw his black horse turn the corner walking nonchalantly down the road. He had left the saddle by the Inn, and picked ‘em up and saddle Civil up. As he was adjusting the straps, the town folk seemed to be gathering together. The foreigners had been offering job opportunities for their venture, and it seemed another group was headed to hunt a mountain lion. 

Normally, he’d be mighty tempted to go out and shoot himself a mountain lion. But, the mine issue was more pressing. He pulled out his revolver and snapped it to the side opening up the barrel. He checked to ensure he was loaded, and snapped it close again, and re-holstered. He took a long drag of the cigarette, and then threw it on the ground and snuffed it with his boot.