The evening breeze rolled down from the high buttes, warm and dry. Edgewater simmered in the stillness of late spring—sunburned boards creaked under boots, and the occasional gust stirred dust devils along the empty main road. Marshal Reid Maddox stepped out of the jailhouse, tugging his hat low against the setting sun.
Kit Vance leaned against the post outside the Silver Dollar Saloon, sipping watered-down whiskey. "You look like you've been chewing cactus, Reid."
Maddox grunted. "Just hoping for a quiet night."
Kit's smile was tired. "In Edgewater?"
That's when they saw him.
A lone figure walked into town, shoulders hunched but steps steady. He wore a worn linen tunic and dark trousers, his queue—long braid of hair—swung down the middle of his back. His skin was sallow from travel, and a small bundle was tied to a stick across his back.
Kit straightened. "New face."
"Looks like one of the railroad men from the east," Maddox murmured. "Chinese, maybe."
They watched in silence as the man turned toward the telegraph office. Maddox's gaze narrowed. The man moved with purpose, eyes scanning the street without fear or expectation.
Dr. Ellison Carr was examining a nasty case of sunstroke in the back room of his clinic when the man came in. He didn't knock.
"I am looking for a Reverend Jonas Bailey," he said in clear but accented English.
Carr blinked. "You and half the town. What do you want with him?"
"I was told he preaches here. I would like to ask him about something."
The doctor eyed him. "Name?"
"My name is Chen Song."
Carr offered a thin smile. "Well, Mr. Chen, I hear Reverend Bailey usually drinks more than he preaches. Try the back of the mercantile around this time."
Chen bowed slightly and left without another word.
Reverend Bailey was exactly where Carr said he'd be—half-drunk and leaning against a stack of seed sacks. He squinted when Chen approached.
"You the preacher?"
Bailey laughed. "That depends who's asking."
Chen reached into his satchel and withdrew a small lacquered box. It looked out of place in dusty Edgewater. Inside, he revealed a lock of hair.
Bailey went pale.
Chen's voice dropped. "This is the braid of my brother. He died last winter. Before he passed, he told me that you—Reverend Bailey—cut his queue while he lay in the church infirmary."
Bailey tried to scoff but couldn't find the strength. "It was just hair. A joke."
Chen stared at him. "It was our honor."
He closed the box and walked away.
Maddox found Chen sitting by the horse trough an hour later. He'd learned enough from Dr. Carr and Kit to piece things together.
"You're not the first to come west looking for justice," Maddox said, quiet.
Chen didn't look up. "Where I come from, a man who dishonors the dead must answer for it."
Maddox sighed. "Edgewater doesn't trade in revenge."
"I know," Chen said. "But the law let him go. My brother died with shame."
Maddox looked down. "I'm sorry. But you raise a weapon in this town, I'll be the one answering for it."
Chen finally looked up. "Then let me bury what remains."
The next day, word got out. Chen was in town to avenge his brother's death. And in a town like Edgewater, that kind of story crawled fast and ugly.
Two local cowhands, the Braden brothers—Jed and Hank—didn't like the idea of a "Chinaman" walking their streets like he belonged. They'd fought in the war, they said, and they remembered losing their younger brother in a skirmish out near the railroad camps.
"A yellow rat cut him down," Jed said to anyone who'd listen. "Ain't right someone like that gets to strut around."
Kit overheard it in the saloon. She told Maddox.
"They're going to start trouble," she warned.
Maddox didn't hesitate. "Then I'll finish it."
The Braden brothers found Chen in the alley beside the livery, kneeling beside a small bundle wrapped in cloth.
"Hey, slope," Hank snarled. "Lose something?"
Chen said nothing. He simply folded the cloth over the bundle—his brother's queue and the knife he'd carried—and stood.
Jed spat. "You people don't belong here."
Chen looked at him, expression unreadable. "Neither did the railroads. Yet we built them."
Hank stepped forward, drawing a knife.
That's when Maddox's voice rang out.
"Drop it."
He stood at the alley's mouth, Colt in hand.
Jed turned. "Marshal, we're just havin' words—"
"No, you're about to spill blood in my town. Drop. It."
Hank hesitated, then let the blade fall. It clattered on the ground.
Maddox cuffed both brothers, one at a time. "Chen, you alright?"
Chen nodded once.
Maddox turned to him. "You had your chance. You could've answered hate with hate. But you didn't."
Chen opened the cloth again, picked up the knife... and then walked to the trough. Without a word, he dropped the blade into the water.
Kit, watching from the boardwalk, let out a breath.
Maddox nodded to Chen. "You're free to go. This town ain't much, but today... it learned something."
Chen turned to him. "In my land, honor is a sword. But perhaps here... it is a man's word."
Maddox met his eyes. "In Edgewater, it better be."
Later that night, Maddox sat on the steps of the jailhouse. Kit brought him a drink.
"Think he'll stay?" she asked.
Maddox shook his head. "No. But he'll remember this place. And maybe it'll remember him."
From the far edge of town, a lone figure disappeared into the desert shadows, his braid swaying gently in the wind behind him.