After ensuring Zenny was stable, Luke hoisted the old man onto Jolly's back with ease. "Alright," he said, glancing at the assembled goats, "which one of you knows the way home?"
One of the smaller goats snorted dismissively and trotted off through the brush, tail flicking with attitude.
Luke followed, reins in one hand and the other resting casually on his holster. "Even the livestock's got personality in this place," he muttered.
They arrived at a weather-beaten hut built precariously around a half-dead tree, its roof riddled with holes that let shafts of sunlight pour across the dirt floor.
Luke carefully carried Zenny inside, ducking to avoid the low-hanging rafters, and laid him on a dusty cot that had seen better decades.
After a moment, he found a relatively clean rag, soaked it in cool water from a cracked pitcher, and placed it on the old man's forehead.
"If this is how you react every time you meet someone," Luke said dryly, "you're gonna drop dead for real next time."
"But we're glad you didn't croak on us," Jolly added, "or we'd still be lost out there."
"GLAD?!" Zenny screamed, bolting upright so fast the wet rag flew across the room. "What is there to be glad about?! You nearly killed me with that cowboy getup of yours!"
He frantically grabbed a wooden abacus from beside his cot, beads clicking rapidly as he calculated with fury. "Do you know how much emotional trauma costs these days? With everything you've put me through, I've lost at least 20,000,000 berries in mental anguish!"
"Huh? That math doesn't add up," Jolly said skeptically.
He picked up the abacus with his teeth, set it on the floor, and began moving the beads with his hoof.
"Let's see... technically, since we saved your life, spared your goats, brought you home safely, and jump-started your ticker..." The horse paused dramatically. "You owe us 50,000,000 berries."
"GAH!" Zenny wailed, clutching his chest and fake-sobbing into his hands. "All you young folk do is bully us old people! You're heartless! Waaah!"
Luke and Jolly exchanged a long, unimpressed look.
"I guess we can compromise," Luke said finally, his voice flat. "But only if you let us stay here for the night and answer a few questions."
Zenny sniffled dramatically, still clutching his chest like he was auditioning for the world's worst theater troupe. "Heartless... cruel... no respect for your elders..."
Luke's expression didn't change. "Keep it up, old-timer, and I'll give you something real to cry about."
At that, Zenny peeked up. "So... you'll really stay here for just one night? Ask a few harmless questions and then leave?"
"That's the deal," Luke replied. Zenny's entire demeanor flipped like a hotcake. He sat up straight, wiped away crocodile tears, and flashed a grin that revealed surprisingly white teeth. "Well, why didn't you say so earlier?! Make yourselves at home! Mi casa es su goat farm!"
"Wonderful," Jolly muttered. "He's delirious."
Luke tipped his hat politely. "We'll let you rest up, old man. Try not to fall off the bed."
He and Jolly stepped outside into the warm evening air, the sky orange and red above the treeline.
The ramshackle hut creaked behind them in the gentle breeze.
"Can't believe this is where we ended up," Luke muttered, scanning the surroundings.
"I had a chat with the goats while you were playing doctor," Jolly said, flicking his ears. "They told me Zenny's been living here alone for twenty years. Built this whole place himself, apparently."
Luke raised an eyebrow. "Twenty years... no company except goats..."
"Yeah," Jolly said with a snort. "And judging by those rope traps, he's gotten real creative with his alone time."
Luke chuckled dryly. "I'm gonna scout around, see if I can find something edible. Not in the mood for goat stew tonight."
He wandered off toward the treeline, disappearing into the brush while Jolly settled down beneath a crooked palm tree with a sigh.
The forest wasn't particularly thick, but it was wild, overgrown vines tangled with tall grass, and the evening chorus of distant birds filled the air.
Luke moved through it quietly, one hand resting on his gun, scanning for fruit or anything that wouldn't bleat at him.
"Only found a dozen or so edible things so far," he muttered, then noticed a clearing ahead and decided to follow it to see where it led.
Just as he started walking toward the opening, a massive boulder crashed down from the cliffside above, missing him by mere inches and embedding itself in the exact spot where he'd been standing.
"Anyhow," he continued without breaking stride, "looks like this island's got some unstable geology."
That's when he saw it. Half-finished and covered in loose planks, a ship sat anchored to the shore, clearly in the middle of construction.
Luke stepped closer to get a better look, and his eyes immediately fixed on a familiar sight fluttering from one of the half-built masts.
"A pirate flag," he sighed, shaking his head. "Should've known."
He plucked a few ripe fruits from a nearby tree and headed back, his boots crunching softly against the dirt path.
When he returned to the hut, the moon was just peeking over the horizon.
Jolly was waiting by the door, contentedly chewing on a long piece of grass.
"Find anything interesting?" the horse asked.
Luke tossed him something that looked like a cross between an apple and a mango. "Some fruit... and a pirate ship under construction. Looks like our friend Zenny's got bigger plans than goat herding."
"Yeah?" Jolly said, catching the fruit neatly in his mouth. "The goats mentioned he's always dreamed of becoming a pirate. Guess he finally decided to do something about it."
Luke's expression grew serious as he walked up to the hut's doorframe. He knocked twice with the back of his knuckles. "Alright, Zenny. Time for a little truth-tellin'."