Herman didn’t much care for much anymore, but he did care about scraping together enough money to settle somewhere in the west. That’s why he and Samuel were crossing the desert, headed south, carrying a box for an old man named Mueller. Neither of them knew what was in the box and their curiosity wasn’t all that great, either, just as long as the coin was good, and it was. In XXXXXXX where they’d picked it up, rumors had swirled and there was much intrigue regarding it. Some people said it was full of gold, others gems, others yet some sort of sacred Indian something or other that Mueller wanted as leverage or to scare ’em. Herman and Samuel’d hauled out of XXXXXX in the middle of the night to avoid any entanglements over the thing, and as they left town they caught shouted words that the previous courier had just been found dead. They high-tailed it through the night and the next day to put distance between them and whoever’d been so curious as to kill a man over a box. They’d both killed men before, but never over boxes, and especially not mysterious boxes.