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He stopped long enough to help a man and his wife traveling to California, they had a busted wheel and he helped the man repair it well enough to get him to the next settlement. They offered to share a meal and camp for the night and Lance was happy to have some better cooking.
"Where you headed?" Mr. Granger asked as they settled over the evening meal.
"Catchin' up to my herd. I had to make a trip to Boston, and I've been traveling for some time."
"Boston?" Mrs. Granger looked interested. She was a brown eyed, dark haired beauty of about thirty, but her eyes lit up when he mentioned Boston. "That's a long way?"
"Yes ma'am. Took me a week to get there," Lance told her.
"Did you go by rail?" the husband asked.
"Mostly, yeah. Took a boat trip up the Mississippi to St. Louis, from there it was just a matter of changing trains."
"I've always wanted to see the East," the woman looked a bit mystical.
"They sure have a lot of new-fangled things, like trolley cars, street lamps everywhere. The hotels are really nice there too." Lance told her. "They don't have Sheriff's they had constables and policemen in uniforms. I saw a kid riding something he called a bicycle. The got mailmen that deliver mail right to the house."
"It must have been exciting."
Lance really hadn't paid that much attention, his reason for being there had distracted him to say the least. But he wouldn't be telling these people about it. They seemed very nice and a little lost. She had a northern accent and he figured she might have been to Boston herself.
He rested easy that night.
The next day he was on his way again after he thanked them for their hospitality.
A blue norther rolled in about mid-morning, and with it a rain-storm. Lance got his slicker out and rode onward. The temperature dropped too and made for discomfort.
He stopped at one little community at a saloon, to get a drink before bedding down. It warmed him considerably. There were some rowdy men at the bar, and they were doing their best to make trouble. When they spotted him, they knew he was a stranger and they began picking at him.
"I don't want any trouble, friend." Lance told the drunk man who kept pestering him.
"Well then, why'd you stop here then?" The man asked with a laugh.
"Wanted to warm up a little." He told him.
"You ain't from around here, are you?" the man asked.
"No, I'm catching up to a herd." He told him.
"Cattle man, I should have known." The drunk laughed.
He kept pushing Lance, sticking his finger into his chest and inviting him to leave.
"Yeah, well, I'll be on my way." Lance told him.
"Wait a minute mister, I'm still talking to you."
"Well friend, I've been traveling all day, and I'm beat. Thanks for the hospitality." Lance grinned.
But the man wouldn't stop. "We don't like strangers in our town."
"No problem, I’m leaving."
Lance turned to leave, and the man drew his gun on him.
"I wouldn’t do that, if I were you?"
"Oh yeah, why not?" the man laughed showing a set of dirty teeth.
