So Doc had a friend who runs an orphanage. The mean old fat mayor was owed some money, and he was calling in his debt. His hope was that Rust couldn’t pay, so’s he could turn the orphanage land into a brothel to be positioned next to the new Alliance military barracks.
Mayor Buzzard also likes to award himself a bag of money every year in a boat race, so the preacher suggested our crew get themselves in the race and pay the mayor back with his own money, won out from under him. They’d already agreed before we found out that shooting your competitors was half the fun of the race.
Rust had a boat, but it weren’t in no condition to sail. Everybody helped out working on repairing it or getting supplies from town. Some of the crew picked up favorite orphans they almost wanted to keep, and one of ’em got lost playing hide and seek real well. We all worked so hard on it, we even had time to make some upgrades.
Some Browncoats wanted to use the race as an excuse to get away with murdering Buzzard, which wouldn’t have been such a bad idea if his loan weren’t Alliance insured. Corporate folks would swoop in and bulldoze that charity faster than you could spit. So the race involved bein’ faster than everyone else, dodging bullets, and keeping Buzzard alive.
That last was done by scooping up his boat with Rascal to deposit him last over the finish line, for extra humiliation.
He awarded the prize money, and the crew were smart enough to pay off the debt right then and there, with witnesses. They may have gone a bit overboard on making small-dick feel his own worth. Next day, the sonofabitch brought his purple gang to try to murderize everyone at the orphanage, and they didn’t look like they’d have a problem shootin’ innocent unarmed kids.
We called the Browncoats to let them have their moment, saved the orphanage again, and got the hell out of there.