The black stallion travelled well, stepping smartly even when the horse was tired and thirsty. The black was a trustworthy friend, being of more value to Colonel Mortimer than most humans had ever been. Humans were tediously predictable in the scope of their unreliability, he found, as he had hunted down one outlaw after another.
This day he rode the hot, dusty trail with no expectations, save for anticipating arrival at the nearest train station. He and Eclipse would take the train heading east, always moving east though for now he headed in more of a southern direction until they were in town. How long he had looked down at the trackless trail he didn't know. His head began to nod as the Colonel half-slept, a common enough occurrence during these long rides.
His senses woke him with a jolt when he heard a voice, male and sounding like it asked a question though he couldn't hear exactly what. Mortimer's brow furrowed beneath the sweaty band of his black hat. A brief sense of confusion made him wonder why he hadn't seen any shoe prints from the other horse just up ahead. Narrowing his eyes, he noted the lack of tracks on the trail and none criss-crossed to this dusty path either.
The Colonel seemed relaxed as he rode up to the unexpected cowboy. He didn't even have his trigger hand on the six-shooter but he was ready. Always ready for trouble.
"Lost?" he asked, eyeballing the stranger while Eclipse came to a stop. What really stood out, aside from the apparent lack of tracks, was the age of this one's weapon. If Mortimer wasn't mistaken, he hadn't seen a pistol like that since the war.