Chapter 40: Iron Jaw and Silent Dart
They headed out without delay.
Rufus didn't put up much of a fight about staying behind—just grumbled something about Carter's company being about as fun as a hangover.
So it was just Levi and Edmond.
Levi didn't even realize he was fidgeting. But Edmond did.
"You keep looking like that, you're gonna make this complicated."
"I know! Just—wrappin' my head around it."
"Just don't talk much. We'll keep it quick."
Edmond explained that since he was there to vouch for him, the process would be easy. A golden ticket. No questions, no hassle.
Didn't stop the butterflies from tearing up his stomach. And when they reached Market Square? Those bastards started fluttering hard.
Sheriff Carter's office sat on the south side of the market.
As they passed through the vendors, Levi stalled.
Pointed out supplies the house needed. Some tools. Some food. Hell, even some damn candles.
Anything to delay.
Didn't work.
Edmond kept walking.
'Stubborn old man.'
"C'mon, kid, quit dragging your feet."
As they climbed the steps to the office, Levi took a few steady breaths before following him inside.
The Sheriff's Office smelled like old leather, metal, and that faint heated scent of Vaporguard tech running hot.
Levi's eyes flicked across the room—reinforced timber walls, an iron-barred holding cell, papers stacked high on a heavy desk. A steam radiator hissed low in the corner, pushing back the fall chill.
But none of it mattered compared to the man sitting at the desk.
Sheriff Miles "Iron Jaw" Carter.
The chair creaked as the old man stood. He was built like the frontier itself—scarred, lined with age, shaped by battles most wouldn't live through.
A thick gray beard covered most of his face, but not enough to hide the plated metal worked into the left side of his skull. The Vaporguard optic in his missing eye socket flickered with faint amber glow.
Then his right arm moved.
A mechanical limb, all brass, iron, and copper, pistons shifting as he braced himself upright. The fingers flexed with an unnatural smoothness, reinforced for grip strength, for breaking, for crushing.
Across his chest, a bandolier of throwing blades rested against his duster, each one worn, sharpened, placed with precision.
Sheriff Carter looked to Levi for a moment, then nodded to Edmond.
"Edmond."
The old bounty hunter gave a small nod.
"Carter."
That was it. No fanfare. No extra words. Just two old soldiers recognizing each other.
Levi swallowed.
This was a bad idea.
"Why are you here? No bounties for you."
Levi damn near jumped.
The voice came from behind—smooth, calm, but with that quiet weight that made the hairs on his neck stand up.
Edmond, unfazed, answered without turning.
"Getting the kid registered."
Levi turned, his body tense, his eyes landing on the man who'd spoken.
Deputy Jian "Silent Dart" Cheng
He was lean, sharp-featured, built like a man who wasted nothing—not effort, not movement, not breath. His dark eyes carried a measured stillness, like he'd already mapped out the entire room, noting every exit, every threat, every flaw.
A thin scar ran from his throat down beneath his collar—too precise to be a lucky wound, too deep to be anything but a close call. His goatee and mustache gave him an air of quiet authority, but nothing about him suggested vanity.
His clothes weren't standard lawman gear—a dark woven robe, fitted loose but deliberate, moving with him like a second skin. Nothing about it was flashy, yet somehow, it commanded attention.
And on his back—a blade.
A single-edged saber, tied down neatly. No excessive ornamentation, no unnecessary weight. A weapon meant for use, not display.
But what stood out most?
No augmentations.
No Pneuma glow, no mechanical limbs, no hiss of venting steam.
Just flesh and blood.
Yet somehow, Levi felt more on edge around him than anyone else in the room.
"What's your name, kid?"
Levi straightened, turning back to the Sheriff and quickly removing his hat.
"It's Levi, sir. Levi Wilson."
"Age?"
"Fifteen, sir."
Carter gave him a once-over before settling back into his chair. He pulled open a drawer, retrieving a worn sheet of paper, and began filling it out with practiced ease.
"You gotta complete at least one bounty per year to keep your license active. Since I already know you took part in bringin' in Eliza Darrow, I'll mark you good for the year."
Levi swallowed, adjusting his hat awkwardly before settling it back on his head.
"Thank you, sir."
Silent Dart's voice cut in.
"This pup? He's the boy you mentioned, Thatcher?"
'Pup?'
The word barely had time to sink in before Levi's awkwardness evaporated, replaced by something sharper.
"Pup? Heard your people eat those. That true?"
He asked it as casually as if he were asking the time.
The silence that followed was thick. Edmond stiffened. Carter's pen stopped mid-scratch.
Silent Dart, though?
Unmoved.
He simply walked past Levi and sat at his desk, resting his arms on the worn wood.
"This pup has some bite. Good, good. Maybe he will last."
Again with the pup.
Levi's fingers twitched at his sides, ready to fire something back, but Carter spoke first.
"Sign here. Levi Wilson."
Levi blinked.
"Uh… can I just make my sign?"
The room paused.
Three pairs of eyes creased at him.
Then—a single laugh.
"Pup can bite, but he can't write. How fitting."
Silent Dart smirked.
For the first time, Levi wished they'd brought Rufus.
Sure, the man gave him more shit than anyone, but he also didn't let anyone else do it. That was his job.
Levi's jaw tightened.
"You tryin' to piss me off, teapot?"
The air in the room shifted.
"Watch your mouth, boy."
The Sheriff's voice was low, weighted with something final.
Levi recognized it instantly.
He'd crossed a line.
He stiffened but said nothing.
"I'll sign for him. You're all witness."
Edmond grabbed a pen from Carter's desk and scribbled Levi's name onto the paper.
"Square?"
Carter took the sheet, giving it a once-over.
"Square."
He turned, filing the document away, then reached into a desk drawer.
"Catch."
Something flipped through the air.
Levi's hand shot up, snatching it mid-spin. The weight was solid, heavy for its size. Turning it in his fingers, he caught the engraved cross and twin swords.
A badge.
Not one meant to be worn—but it was official.
He was state and church sanctioned.
It was strange, but he felt it.
Felt like it was over. Like he was finally done running.
Standing still.
"That it?"
"That's it."
A heavy clap landed on his shoulder.
"Thanks, Carter. Silent Dart."
The deputy gave a nod.
"Thatcher."
Carter leaned back, kicking his boots up onto the desk.
"Stop by sometime, have a drink. This bastard only drinks wine. Be nice to share some whiskey wit' someone."
"I'll do that."
They turned to leave, with Edmond leading the way. Just as Levi went to step out—
THUNK.
A dagger sank into the wall, inches from Levi's head.
Levi whirled.
Silent Dart tilted his head.
"Mind that bite. Pup."
Levi turned red.
"Pup my ass, you—now hold on!"
Edmond grabbed him by the collar, dragging him out.
"Come on, idiot."
The Sheriff and his deputy listened as Edmond hauled Levi down the steps—the boy cursing the whole way.
Carter smirked.
"I like him."
Silent Dart frowned.
"He's suspicious."
Carter chuckled.
"Oh, fooey. You say that about everyone."
Staring out the door, Silent Dart couldn't help it. Something about that boy made him curious.
And he always followed his gut.
----
"Well, ain't that pretty. Now you can tell them dock rats to suck eggs."
Rufus grinned as he eyed the badge in Levi's hand. Tapping Levi's chest, he looked like he was already devising some half-baked scheme.
"We need to celebrate. And considerin' what's bein' celebrated, I'm takin' you out. Tonight, we're goin' to Denton's finest establishment!"
Edmond sighed.
He wasn't about to get involved. Not his problem. Instead, he turned toward the kitchen—the kids would be home soon for their break, and someone had to get lunch going.
Levi, though?
He couldn't help himself. As much as Rufus annoyed him, the thought of hitting the saloon with him actually sounded... fun.
Been a while since he had a hard drink.
"You're payin'."
Rufus snorted.
"Kid, did ya forget? We're celebrities. We won't be payin' for much. 'Cept maybe the women."
----
The night air was cold, cutting through the last remnants of the day's warmth as Levi and Rufus made their way down Main Street toward the Red River Saloon.
"Ever been with a woman before?"
Levi didn't flinch.
"None of your damn business."
But that was enough for Rufus. He grinned, rolling a smoke between his fingers.
"Ain't gotta say it, kid. I can tell."
Levi gritted his teeth.
"Tell what?"
"That you're green as spring grass."
Levi shot him a glare, but Rufus wasn't done.
"Look, ain't nothin' to be ashamed of. I'll tell ya what—tonight, you can take your pick. Any lady you want."
Levi cut him off before he could finish that thought.
"Wouldn't want somethin' you already had your dick in."
Rufus barked a laugh.
"Then you're outta luck, kid! That don't leave many women in all of Denton."
They argued and joked, trading jabs as they stepped up to their destination.
The Red River Saloon
Levi took it in.
Two stories, wood darkened from years of dust and whiskey, lanterns glowing warm and hazy. A wraparound balcony stood over the street, draped with red banners, their edges curled from age.
The double doors swung back and forth with the constant movement of men, laughter, and the sour stink of liquor and sweat. Music bled out, muffled behind voices raised in drunken bets and bad decisions.
Rufus slapped his shoulder.
"Well, kid, what cha think?—"
CRASH!
The doors swung wide, and a man came flying out, hitting the dirt hard—skidding up to Levi's boots.
Levi looked down.
The man groaned.
Rufus took a drag from his smoke.
"Place's got character, don't it?"