Chapter Text
The town of Lowmen was settled in the middle of the great state of Wyoming. Just because it happened to be in the heart of the great dirt expanse of the west does not mean that it was a great town. Hell, it wasn’t even a good town. All it consisted of was a small main street that connected the roads to and from the town. This road was the most used because no travellers often stayed longer than the night. Off of the main road branched several domestic roads leading to the houses of the unfortunate people who lived in Lowmen. It was, all in all, a blink and you miss it town. And many people blinked as they went through.
This unfortunate town was full of people to match the rotten atmosphere. Everyone from the baker down to the good samaritan school teacher was covered in dirt and troubles. Some came here to escape persecution, others execution. The brothel madam, Kat, (originally Katherine except no one called her that unless they wanted to start a fight) built the first building after killing her third husband and receiving his fortune. It was in this saloon slash brothel slash hotel that Huckleberry Finn currently found himself serving a third pint of strong wheat beer to the country sheriff. Said sheriff was attempting to forget the intricate pattern of brains that came from a shootout with an outlaw.
How Huckleberry Finn, now permanently called just Huck, came to the town of Lowman was a long tale that could be another story in itself. And the only people who truly knew it was Huck himself and Madam Kat who offered him a job after Huck landed a knockout punch to one man harassing her girls. In exchange for work, she offered him someplace to sleep a good enough salary to eat more than just fish and bread. So after several years of growing up and venturing west, Huck Finn decided to stop. It was a good system. Sure, it was far from a perfect life. The dust would cause what future doctor would call cancer and the average lifespan was thirty-five due to the less than excellent dietary practices and fights that broke out every Thursday. But it was good enough, so the days passed away and soon Huck Finn was just another permanent resident of Lowman, Wyoming.
However, the universe couldn’t have Huck living even an adequate life for longer than a couple of months so today it had in store for him what future writers would call a blast from the past. Not that Huck was having a particularly good time cleaning glasses for the seventh time that hour due to the dirt that swept in every time the double doors swung open; it came in and laid out onto countertops and stools, making itself at home among the residents and being a nuisance to them just like the sun was when it shown to bright or their shipments of fruit and how everything came out tasting slightly acidic. But putting up with the god damn dirt was something he had come accustomed to over the three years. Dealing with anything that came from Missouri was not.
Which is why when one of the prostitutes, named Felony Katie for a good reason, comes in from the town meeting and announces that the new visitors they had been expecting were,
“Just a couple of western bound pastors from St. Peterburg, Missouri. They’re headin’ to Washington or something to oversee something about a bishop. One was old as this here dirt, named Satchel Bens or somthin’. Other one really young, kinda good lookin'. Said name was Thomas Sawyer.”
Huck quietly sets down the glass he just finished cleaning (and will have to clean again in seven minutes) and excuses himself into the back and does not show any signs of panic. If anyone thinks that hiding in the dry storage room of a bar between a three-gallon tub of beans and a year's supply of dried meats while deep breathing is panicking than they can go fuck a horse. He rations to himself that there is no need to worry. There are plenty of Thomas Sawyers in the state of Missouri. Hell, Thomas is probably one of the most common names in the whole great United States. Plus, even if it is the Thomas Sawyer there is no way that he could recognise Huck now. It’s been five years. Huck was a boy of fifteen when he ran away from providence and poverty and was now going on twenty years on this Earth. He had grown about a foot to prove it as well. His hair no longer curled around his ears and was constantly matted down by sweat and dirt but grew out and fell lightly on his shoulders. He was an adult God dammit why should some lov- person from his past make him anything less.
An adult was not what Madam Katherine found on the floor of the dry storage when she came looking to see where her bartender had gone. Though the town hall was the official ‘meeting place’ everyone knew it was at the saloon where real decisions were made and there was nothing worse than sober coal miners.
“What the fuck are you doin’ on the floor?” Madam Kat asked standing in the entryway. “If you're drunk or sick, walk it off. Some Jesus boys showed up today and I bet Harold and Conrad can wait to start bitchin’ about it.” She looked down at him with a slight squint in her eyes. “Boy, you're sickly pale what’s the matter with you? I know you're adverse to the whole religion thing but-” Huck grabs her by the wrist and pulls her into the dry storage room quickly shushing her. “What is the matter with you! Have you-” Huck cuts her off again, eyes scanting towards the door.
“Did you go down to see those church men arrive?” The Madam crosses her arms over her large body and nods curtly. Huck continues, “I know you must think I’m possessed but I need you to tell me what they looked like.” He glances back through the doorway nervously. “Please. It’s real important.” Kat just rolls her eyes and pretend that this is the craziest thing she has witnessed, which it’s not, and tells him,
“If it were anybody but you Huck I’d think they’d lost it. I’m not sure what you want but one was real old and crusty lookin'. Kinda like the old tailor man before he died of cholera.”
“And the other one?” Huck asks her impatiently, his muscles now nervously twitching. Every nerve in his body is listening to what Kat will say next.
“Patience boy I’m getting there! Let a woman think.” She narrows her eyes like she’s thinking really hard about something. “Got this golden brown hair and freckles. Would come up to about your chin. Real dangerous looking thing. Wouldn’t peg him as the preachin’ type. Got a mouth like a whip if you ask me. All the girl fawning over him and he just cracks a laugh like it's some joke of another.”
And it’s those words that make Huck Finn freeze up and be sent back into his memories to when he was just Huckleberry Finn.