NOTE: Plot bunnies.

Move to Vale County, they said.

Wealthiest place in the West, they said.

Roads there are safe for driving cattle, they said.

Well, they apparently forgot to mention that this was the Western frontier. Anything could happen! And for young seventeen-year-old Jaune Arc, that notion held to its truest form with bullets whizzing past his head as he sprinted for his dear life through the rocky canyons near the rugged Mexican border.

"Got 'ya in my sights, boy!"

"Ain't use in runnin' from us, kid!"

"Get 'yer yellow-belly over here!"

Jaune Arc would proudly flaunt the colors of his family's lineage—traced all the way to the famous legendary French heroine Joan D'Arc. Such was a badge of pride and honor upheld through the generations. In this part of the world, however, yellow was apparently the flag of the weak. His legs carried him further and further into the tightening crevasse until he tripped and rolled down a shaft. By the time his body planted onto the unforgiving gravel, the voices of his pursers were mere faded echoes against the walls.

He stayed where he was until he was sure the bandits had abandoned their search for him. Also because every bone and muscle in his body ached from the fatigue of his plight. It took him a while before he picked himself up and straggled through the tunnel system.

This was bad. This was very bad!

He was lost. Not so much wounded but dazed and confused. Also, he had just survived an ambush by bandits on their return trip to Vale. Damn it! He should have known... It had only been a matter of time... This road was never always safe... The outlaw gangs had been stepping up their attacks and...

Jaune slammed his knuckles into the rock, savoring the pain that rocketed into his arm and ignoring the blood that seeped through his fresh cuts. He and dad were the only men in their family of nine. Without them, they would be easy pickings for these bastards. He needed to find dad, hopefully he made it out in time—he was the only one with the gun.

No. Stop. Breathe. Think.

Get out. Get help. Find dad. Wait, go home first, check up on the family, then find dad.

But could he really do it? He was never really much of a fighter—his could barely shoot a bottle off a table at three paces—and he doubted he could get the Pinkertons, let alone any bounty hunter, to help. The lawmen here turned out to be rather disturbingly fickle.

Jaune panted in some relief upon catching a ray of light beaming through. He soon emerged out onto the sprawling deserts of the frontier. No roads to speak of, no man-made landmarks. Just sand, dirt, rocks, and cacti. He was on his own now out in these open barrens.

"Goddamn it," he nearly cried.

No. He had to be strong. For dad. For his family. For himself. He was an Arc, a descendant of Joan D'Arc. He breathed deep and cleared his head to focus as best he could.

Jaune took the first step into the wilderness as his own man. He lasted about three or five hours before succumbing to the heat.

The first thing to come to register in his addled mind was how sweetly comfortable this bed was.

But wasn't he in the desert?

Jaune bolted upright in a modest room. Chair in the corner, table by his bedside. Bright orange sky filtered through the window. Was it dusk or dawn? It was hard to tell. He found himself dressed down to this undershirt while his knuckles appeared to have been delicately cleaned and tended to. Did someone find him?

He winced as he slipped off the bed, getting some feeling back into his limbs. The window told him he was on the second floor. He creaked the door open and slowly meandered downstairs where someone's shadow had been cast against the wall. Cooking on a pot. Come to think of it, he could smell broth. His stomach grumbled.

Step by step, he descended into the living room where his mystery caretaker had set up the table for a meal.

Said caretaker turned around, piercing emerald orbs shielded by a clean spectacles while short curls traced down her bun of blonde hair. She was not at all surprised to see him up and about.

"Oh. You're awake. That's good," she said as she filled two bowls with meat and soup.

Jaune gulped. This lady was intimidating. "Y-yes, ma'am."

"Please, sit. You clearly haven't eaten in a while," she prodded, pulling up her chair and his.

He nervously settled in. He was hungry though. "May I ask where I am?"

"Young man, you're in Beacon."

"E-excuse me?" he stammered.

The lady sighed. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"I...can't say for sure. Ma'am."

"You are in Beacon, Vale County. It's a mining town not far from the city of Vale."

Oh. So he was back in Vale County. It was quietly amazing now that he thought about it. For aimlessly wandering about in the desert, he had covered a good distance. He never heard much about Beacon but the fact that it was a mining town meant commerce. This place had to have money. Money that he could earn, good money that would go a long way to help him get back home to his family.

He had barely taken a sip from his stew when the lady let out a strangled noise. She straightened herself (as though she was not upright to begin with). "My apologies. We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Glynda Goodwitch. I manage the schoolhouse here in Beacon."

Jaune shakily bowed. "Jaune Arc, ma'am. I'm a, uh..."

"It's okay. You were found near death not far from here. I assume you were lost?"

Very much so. Lost, confused, and afraid. Maybe not so much afraid now that he was in the company of a schoolteacher. She did have that air of authority that would often be found among lawmen. Upright lawmen. "Yes, ma'am. I...I was..."

Glynda observed him as he choked back tears. His shoulders quivered while his fists whitened with how tight he gripped the spoon. A moment later, she reached over to cup his hands, shocking him out of his grief. Her voice was tender. Motherly. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me what happened. You are still recovering."

"I...it... I'm sorry, ma'am," he breathed. "I'll behave myself. It's been...there's been a lot that happened and..."

She shushed him. "It's okay, young man. Take this time to rest. Eat. Before the meat gets cold."

"Thank you, ma'am."

They ate in silence until the orange light filtered into bright hues. Jaune looked out the window to see the dusty dirt streets of Beacon filling up. People stepping outside to sweep the dust off their porches, shop owners opened up their stores, workers hefting shovels and pickaxes headed off into the mines.

"How long was I out?"

"Since yesterday," Miss Goodwitch answered. "Would you like to rest a bit more or...?"

"Um, I guess I should. I'm still regaining my faculties so..."

She nodded. "Very well. You may stay until you've fully recovered. However, I don't advise you to abuse my hospitality. I am not very accommodating of freeloaders."

For a schoolteacher, it seemed her sternness carried over outside the classroom. Jaune straightened himself and, like the gentleman he was raised to be, politely bowed and said, "Yes, ma'am. If you won't mind, maybe I can help around. Earn my keep."

Miss Goodwitch paused in thought. "... I suppose so."

"Allow me to wash these for you," he offered. "You do have a school to run so I guess I could free up some of your time to help you prepare, right?"

The schoolteacher regarded him for a bit. Then hummed. "Alright. That's...thoughtful of you, Mister Arc."

He stood up and took the dishes. "Please, call me Jaune."

The schoolteacher's abode was as tidy as a Frenchman's mansion, Jaune soon found out. He was grateful Miss Goodwitch entrusted him stewardship of her dwelling and he followed through by keeping the place in top shape...despite already being in top shape. Still, he found some chores to busy himself with. Cleaning, adjusting furniture, cooking his own meals. He even dusted off the dirt from his boots and hat, though most of his clothes were still hanging out to dry.

The sun was still up in the sky when she returned.

"Good afternoon, Miss Goodwitch."

"Good afternoon, Jaune. How are you feeling?"

"Never better," he chirped.

She smiled. "Good. Would you follow me please?"

"Ma'am?"

"Put on your boots. There is a spare coat I have in the cabinet there."

Jaune wondered what it was this time as he obediently dressed himself. Slightly odd though that she had a man's coat in a wardrobe seemingly overflowing with dresses. Unless she had a husband? Or, perhaps, a secret lover? He shook his head to clear his mind and, upon stepping outside onto the street, asked, "Miss Goodwitch, where are we going?"

"To see the mayor."

Wait, what? "Pardon?"

"Mayor Ozpin is aware of your predicament and has offered to help," she relayed.

As they crossed the street, Jaune felt the weight of the many pairs of eyes leering at him. He shrunk deeper into the coat and tilted the brim of his hat to shadow his nervous expression. Despite having made a few cattle runs with his father in other towns, he was not used to this much scrutiny. Being a mining town, they were probably looking after their own wealth.

Not long after, they were at the town hall. And inside, in his office at the second floor, was the gray-haired, bespectacled Mayor Ozpin, casually sipping on his mug of ground coffee.

"Welcome," he greeted. "Have a seat, Mister Arc."

Jaune humbly eased into the cushioned chair set across the man's desk. "Sir."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. Sir."

Ozpin chuckled. "Now, now. No need to be apprehensive."

Jaune looked up. So far, the man seemed friendly. Not so jovial but, in a way, comfortable to be with. He craned his head to find Miss Goodwitch standing attentively by his side. Well, at least her presence alone assuaged any fears creeping up his gullet. "Sorry, sir. Just...a bit overwhelmed, is all."

"I can understand that. Tell me, how have you come to such a state outside our town?"

The question was clear. Jaune glanced around, finding himself alone with the two adults in this office. In the corner, the grandfather clock ticked away. He breathed deep. He could trust these people, right? They didn't seem as bad. Hell, one of them nursed him back to health. They were good people; they had to be.

Jaune calmed himself, gathered his thoughts, and took a deep breath. And relayed everything. From his family's cattle driving business to the ambush by bandits at the highway crossing and his desire of returning to his family and finding help to hopefully rescue his missing father. Assuming he was still alive, of course. No, he is! The man was an Arc. Arcs don't go down easily. Otherwise, it would be a daunting task helping to support his mother and seven sisters.

Throughout his tale, Ozpin remained passively attentive. Glynda was clearly appalled. When he was done, there was a long minute of silence before the mayor cleared his throat. "That is very unfortunate. I am sorry that this has happened to you."

"That's much appreciated, sir," Jaune reciprocated. His sentiments sounded...sincere. "Miss Goodwitch said you could help me."

"I can. Not as much as you would imagine, however."

His eyes lit up with hope. "So, are you going to help me get home?"

Ozpin leaned back on his chair. "Your...family's ranch is in another state. Forgive me for being blunt but I doubt you would survive the journey on your own. Not without any money, without a horse, much less without any form of defense on your person."

That was a given. "But you're going to help me, right? Uh, bodyguards or a guide to get me there? Maybe charter a protected carriage?"

Glynda sighed while Ozpin shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mister Arc. I cannot provide with those. We may have a profitable industry but I cannot commit such a substantial amount of resources for an endeavor that many would see as...fruitless. I may be the mayor but I do not own everything. I hope you understand my position here."

Jaune deflated, hope nigh extinguished. That all was true. So much wealth locked by greed. "... I see."

"What I can do for you at this moment, however, is provide you a place to stay."

"Sir?" Was he already bunking in with Miss Goodwitch? Unless... Right. She was not very accommodating of freeloaders. She probably asked the mayor to give him a house.

"There is a small unoccupied lodge at the edge of town. It is close to one of our own wells so you would not have to worry about water. Not too far from the market as well."

Jaune bowed slightly. "Thank you, sir."

"You also mentioned that you were willing to 'earn your keep?'"

"Yes, sir."

Ozpin looked to Glynda who rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Mister Arc, so far you are a healthy young man with a proper build. Correct?"

"Uh, I believe I am...?" Crap. Was he going to be put to work in the mines?

The mayor seemed to read his mind (or the strained mien on his face) and said, "I am not that heartless to employ you immediately as a miner. But there are people around here who could use an extra pair of hands. Some of them may not be able to pay you for your efforts. However, I would provide additional incentive for every good deed you do in this town."

Jaune nearly buckled out of his seat. "For sure, sir?"

"We are a mining town, after all. I am sure the townspeople would not mind an industrious youth such as yourself to go a day hungry. Granted, you are earning your keep."

This was good. This was very good!

He stood up, practically beaming. "I won't let you down, sir! I'll help this town as best I can."

Ozpin chuckled again. "Of course, you would, young man."

It did not take long for Jaune to settle into his new home. The well was close enough to be in his own backyard while the market had indeed been a short walking distance. As a bonus, he had been given some starting money to help him get back on his feet. For some reason though, the icebox was packed with bottles of assorted liquor, some opened, some half-empty. Was the previous owner this much of an alcoholic?

He never did indulge in strong spirits, though he did have a few memorable experiences in the past. Nevertheless, Jaune decided to purge away some of the alcohol to allow space for vegetables and meat.

As the day drew to an end and he lay on his own bed in his own cottage in a town far away from home, he wondered how he was going to be doing his part in this community. He was, after all, in this for the money and the mayor was amicable enough to support him.

Besides, it was not like doing odd jobs around Beacon would be that hard, right?

Then again, this was the Western frontier. Anything can happen.

ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: November 23, 2018

LAST EDITED: November 24, 2018

INITIALLY UPLOADED: November 23, 2018

NOTE: I have never played Red Dead Redemption or its sequel. I have played Call Of Juarez: Bound In Blood and Call Of Juarez: Gunslinger, though.

Updates will be sporadic as this story will be anecdotal. I still have other fics to work on.