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(Snippet of an RP with Artoveli . Hugh belongs to her and Rove belongs to me. A bit of an explaination....Rover had an injury earlier in the story that affected the metal plate and underlying microchip in his head, causing his memory to jump back to his ten-year-old self)

Rover was shaken to his core, and he tried every mental trick he could to keep it off his face. It was about more than Anne now.

He had just found humans after a whole lifetime of searching and hoping and praying he wasn't the only one. He had found them at last. And now...now he had to choose between his species and his family? His home? Why? Why couldn't he just go with them? He’d had plans! Fly with them. Guide them. Help them trade. Benson! Benson was with them and had kept his ship. He couldn't abandon his crew, he couldn't leave Flyspur behind. But how could he leave when he had found what he had been looking for for so long? Why was this a choice? Were the humans against a convoy? Did this alien's rules have something against allies? Was it some sort of human tradition he didn't know about? Like when a lady had to abandon her old name and leave her parents? There was so much he didn't know. But Hugh was human. Surely he knew what he was talking about. He was confused, he didn't understand and he had so many questions. But he didn't dare open his mouth, knowing that his voice would crack.

Hugh took Rover's silence as a signal that it was high time to change the subject.

"Now, I expect our next stop is somewhere near the back of this hall?" He gestured toward the distant silhouettes of ships hanging against the smoke and steam of the workmen's fires, in various states of repair and modification.

"Yeah. Just...just up yonder." Rover managed to choke out as he gestured to the very top of the hanger where Hugh could see a catwalk and a string of little windows and doors that skirted the ceiling of the huge building. "Formen are up there so they can oversee the big rigs." He managed to pull a half-distracted almost-smile. He couldn't think about this now. He had to talk to Morft. He had to make this ship deal. He let out a small snort of frustration. Anne, Blue, the Nellie, little Tom, Nana....How could he think about some welding deal when he had to choose between them? But he had to. He had to shut it off. Impossibly distracted, he reached up, lifted his hat and raked a hand through his hair.

He stopped in his tracks. His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. Turning in a circle, he gaped at the cavernous space with its huge ships and hundred little booths. Finally his gaze fell on Hugh, and he took in a little amazed breath. "Wow..." He looked him up and down. "Oh...right." Suddenly he seemed to remember something and touched the pin on his coat. An instant later he was a small boy. "Name's Rover Finnigan. Put 'er there! Are you a cowboy?"

Somehow, amid all the distracting excitement of the whole Hub/sling-gate/Jssfloon plan, to say nothing of the flood of strange new feelings tangling up her stomach all of a sudden, Anne had completely forgotten to brief Hugh on Rover's situation.

The man stared down at the boy, absolutely baffled. He blinked and shook his head, but the image didn't change. He took a deep breath and tried to think of something to say, but all that came out in the end was a very, very confused "...What?"

The boy cocked his head a little, looking ever so slightly concerned. "I said 'howdy there, I'm Rover Finnigan.' An' I asked if you are a real cowboy. I'm a cowboy too. See? I have...I mean.... I got the hat and everything. Where are we now? Last time I remember I was back on the ship. MY ship. Heh. Anne says it's my ship. So...what is this place? How come I'm with you? I mean... I'm GLAD I'm with you." The boy looked up at him as if he were meeting a real live superhero. He hadn't met a male human yet. Well, an adult one anyway. Hugh looked perfect for the part.

"Uh, Hugh Harris..." He took the boy's hand and shook it uncertainly. "You alright, Friend?"

At the mention of Anne, Hugh saw a port in the storm. "Just a second, I'm just gonna make a call real quick." He held up a finger, then brought his comm up and dialled the captain. A moment later, Anne's face appeared above his wrist.

"You know anything about this?" He moved his comm so that young Rover was visible.

"Ohhh nooo, Hugh!" She looked at him, mortified. "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't explain this!" Her hand came up and covered her mouth. "Rover sustained an injury last night that's effecting his memory. Every now and then if his head gets jarred, his personality zaps back to his 10-year-old self, and stays that way until he gets jarred again. But the doctor says we shouldn't jar him on purpose, as it could cause more damage. He's wearing a hologram cloak to make himself look and sound like his young self when it happens."

"I see..." Hugh absorbed this revelation with remarkable stoicism. "Would'a been nice to know... But this does leave us in a bit of a bind. See, we still ain't talked to the welding people about the ships."

"Hmm..." Anne drummed her fingers on her desk, off camera. "Can you just... Spend some time with him until he switches back? He's a sweet kid, and reeeally into westerns."

Hugh winced, slightly. Things were a mite strained between him and adult Rover at the moment, and it felt a little odd to be spending time with his child self, now. But, it seemed like there was nothing else for it. "You got it, Captain."

He dialled off and turned back to young Rover, who was still grinning up at him.

"Soo... Ya like cowboys, huh?"

The boy's grin quirked to one side and he threw out both hands. "I'm human ain't I? All the best humans are cowboys. Well 'cepting Anne. She ain't a cowboy but she's still great. So where ya from? Texas? Kansas? What's your horse's name?" It seemed while he had been momentarily awed by their surroundings he found Hugh far more fascinating and now barely gave it a glance.

It was still terribly strange, but now that Hugh had a clue of what was going on, he found it easier to think of young Rover as an actual kid. He quirked a smile at him and his enthusiastic questions.

"That right? All the best humans?" He chuckled, and crouched down to Rover's apparent eye-level. He remembered what Rover had said to the guard, that he had grown up on Jssfloon, and thought maybe he hadn't had many humans around him while growing up. "Well little pardner, cowboys are somethin' special. But you know, the world is an awfully big place, full of an awful lot of different sorts. Some folks are cowboys, some folks are other things, just as special." He grinned. "But... My horse's name was Chess. You wanna see a picture?"

He tapped at his comm and brought up a projection of a grainy polaroid. It showed a younger Hugh leaning on a fence- hat, boots, plaid shirt and all- beside a chestnut brown horse with a blond mane and tail.

Rover's hands came up to his mouth and he barely contained an excited squeal. "You DO have a hat! And look at that horse! It's so amazing!"

He mulled over what Hugh said. "Well, I guess there are saloon owners and bankers, and the guys who drive the coaches. Oh, and doctors. They are nice sometimes. But they aren't the HEROES."

Hugh smiled and shook his head at Rover's comments. "Naw, naw, see, all them types of folks you just mentioned are still part of the cowboy world. There's gotta be a million different worlds on Earth, all with their own kinds of heroes and villains and normal folk! Why, there's the royal lords of Brittain, and the warriors of Japan, and the nomads of Mongolia, and the tribes of the Serengeti, and the librarian-knights of Antarctica, and so many more... Still," he grinned and nodded his head at the picture of his horse. "I, for one, am proud to be a cowboy."

Rover's eyes grew wide at the amazing-sounding list. "All those....all those are from Earth? W...wow... I..I mean...of course they are." He grinned at Hugh's last comment. "Well then we got to get you a hat! Come on. This looks like a big place. Surely somebody knows how to make one." He grabbed Hugh's hand and started to pull him toward the nearest vendor. "Lets ask this guy!"

Rover appeared to be a small boy, but he had the strength and weight of a rather large man. When he grabbed Hugh's hand and pulled him along eagerly, the man was unable to resist.

"Whoa, whoa!" He said. "I'm not so sure a metal hat is what I'm lookin' for."

The vendor looked up at this comment. "Why not? Protect you from unwanted radio waves! Or maybe, recieve radio waves you want!" He snatched up a hammerwork bowl from his table and eagerly began hammering a brim around it. "Ready in two minute!"

"No, no, that's alright." Hugh held up the hand that Rover was not holding in a vice-grip.

"Alright!" The vendor smiled. "Good! Two minutes." He went back to hammering feverishly.

"No!" Hugh said with finality. "I do not want a metal hat."

The vendor stopped mid-hammer and waited for him to say more. When nothing more came, his face fell.

"Come on, come on, let's move along." He tried to usher Rover away from the booth.

The boy was waving his hands and shaking his head too as the Vendor started his work. "Wait...wait. That's....that's not what I meant!"

He let out a little huff as Hugh dragged him away. "Well, I was just going to ask him if he knew a good hatter. Heh....I guess a metal hat would keep you protected from anything falling on you though. But it would probably be really heavy. What happened to your hat? I never go anywhere without mine."

Hugh chuckled. "Yeah, I expect it would be." He shrugged at Rover's question. "Oh, my hat's safe as anything, 'bout forty light-years away from my head."

He spied what looked like an area for patrons to sit and wait for their commissioned work to be done. Benches and tables, amid large potted plants and a few artistic metal statues. He led Rover over there.

"See, my hat wouldn't have been considered professional attire by the StarWeb folks. So I left it home when I took this job-- Not realizin' what was in store for us, nor exactly how long this job would turn out to be."

Rover ran his hand through the plants as he neared them. He squinted a little, trying to piece that statement together. "What kind of job won't let you wear a hat? Most everyone wears 'em. Even the city folks have them round lookin' ones." Every time the boy looked up at Hugh there was a note of amazement and admiration in his expression. He was trying to play it cool but this guy was just THE BEST!

Hugh furrowed his brow, trying to figure out where Rover's ideas about such things came from. Earlier he'd mentioned carriages, too. Was he actually some sort of time traveller? Had he been the victim of some sort of early quantum experiment gone awry, winding up blasted across time and space to a planet with no other humans? Well, it was his working theory for the moment.

"I may be a cowboy at heart, but my actual occupation is a little more mechanical in nature. I'm ship's handyman."

Rover thought about this for a second. "Heh. Well I guess you don't have to be a cowboy to be a cowboy. Slim Danger doesn't do much with cows. He's a sheriff. And Maverick was a poker player, of course. So yeah, you can still be a cowboy."

Hugh blinked and his mouth spread into a wide grin. "Now hold on a minute, you a fan of old Slim Danger? Why I used to love that show! Must'a seen every episode about a million times, growin' up."

They had sat down, and now he leaned forward, elbows on the table between them. "You see the one where everybody thinks there's a monster in the lake, but it turns out to be a dummy set up by the mayor to attract publicity? My, that monster terrified me as a kid!"

Huh. There went his time travel theory.

Rover's expression brightened to blinding exuberance and his voice squeaked as words exploded from his mouth.

"Slim is just THE BEST! I've seen them all too, like a BILLION times! Yeah, I love that one! Didn't scare me though. Did you see the one where they went looking for Old Joshua's treasure? Who woulda thought an old guy could booby trap a WHOLE CANYON like that!"

Rover was absolutely beside himself with excitement. Sure Flyspur and Soorn would watch with him, but talking to someone who was already a fan? It was just the best thing ever!

"Did I see it? Shoot, I grew up just an hour's drive South of the canyon where they filmed it!" Hugh grinned proudly. He hadn't thought about that show in so long... "You ever see the lost episodes? Five reels they thought were destroyed in a studio fire back in the 1950s. Turns out they were just being stored in the wrong trunk. Five whole episodes, and they only found them about, oh, fifteen years back! You can bet I've got the special edition box-set on my shelf back home."

Rover's eyes bugged out. "You lived by that canyon? Really?! No foolin’? And there's ones I haven't SEEN?!"

Then he blinked and his head cocked a bit. "Filmed?" He knew what the word meant, of course. But it had never really occurred to him that the stories had to be recorded somehow. He mulled this over for a minute. "Like....like a news drone, right? I guess a Sheriff like that would have one...."

Then his frown deepened along with his confusion. "...but....their cameras were....so big." He remembered the episode where the 'moving pictures' had come to town. "...Slim doesn't...talk about bringin' a camera around....."

Older Rover had realized that the things he watched must be some kind of reenactment but as a boy he had not had such a revelation yet.

Hugh’s eyes widened and he put a hand over his mouth, holding his face. The kid didn’t understand about television shows? Had nobody ever told him how to differentiate between fact and fiction? How did this new angle fit into Rover’s story? Sure would be easier if he could just come out and ask what he wanted to know... But he couldn’t just pump the kid for information, as that wouldn’t be respecting the man’s privacy.

Still, he had to say something. Maybe he could regale this kid with a story that actually was true.

“Let me tell you a story of something that happened to my great, great, great grandfather. See, the old homestead and ranch are still in my family’s possession. It passed to my older sister as an inheritance, and she and her family are livin’ there now, taking care of the house and the property. Area’s been built up a lot over time, but back in the days of my great, great, great grandfather Silas, there was nothing around but fields, forest, and a little creek windin’ through. Anyway, came an Autumn when a group of outlaws was causing trouble for the whole tri-county area. Robbin’ coaches, rustlin’ small cattle, terrorizin’ peaceful folk, the whole bit. Local constabulary couldn’t get a handle on them and didn’t know where they were hidin’ out. Well, one day while Silas was out hunting partridge near the edges of the property, he came across a little cave by the water-- More of a wash-away, really. There he found what looked like a camp, as well as a stash of stolen loot. Well, what could he do? He knew if he confronted the outlaws himself he’d be shot in a moment, and then what would become of his great, great, great grandson Hugh? Couldn’t have that. But he didn’t like the idea of a shootout on his property if the Sheriff and his men were to attack them head-on, either. So he had himself a think, and devised a little plan. See, his wife was what you’d call a prolific baker. Always had bread, or a cake, or a batch of cookies on the go. He rushed home and consulted with her, and in a few minutes she was startin’ in on making an apple pie-- with the addition of a special ingredient. Sleeping draught. My great, great, great grandmother suffered from insomnia, you see, so they always had some about the place.” Hugh shrugged and smiled. “Such a plan might not be considered kosher today, but it sure did the trick. Silas went back to the cave and delivered the piping hot pie while the place was still abandoned, just as if the bandits’ own granny had dropped in for a visit and found them out. Then he hid nearby to watch. Before long, the band returned after a day of lawless deeds, and they found the pie. After only a little bit of suspicious talk, they tucked in. Pie is pie, after all! Only then, did Silas go to fetch the lawmen. Sure enough, when the Sheriff arrived with his men and a paddy-wagon, they found all the bandits snoozing like babies. Every one of them was taken into custody, and not a single shot was fired. And so, my great, great, great grandfather-- and my great, great, great grandmother-- were heroes that year. Now isn’t that a story worth the hearing?”
Rover hung on every word of Hugh's story, his eyes wide and his mouth half open, unable to believe that he was hearing an actual true story from an actual real human right in front of him. He laughed and clapped at the amusing finale. "Shucks, that was the greatest story I ever heard! Your grand-folks sound AMAZING! Have you ever caught any bad guys? I would have but there just aren't that many on Jssfloon."

Hugh smiled and nodded. "I got no doubt of it. “

Description

(Snippet of an RP with Artoveli . Hugh belongs to her and Rove belongs to me. A bit of an explaination....Rover had an injury earlier in the story that affected the metal plate and underlying microchip in his head, causing his memory to jump back to his ten-year-old self)

Rover was shaken to his core, and he tried every mental trick he could to keep it off his face. It was about more than Anne now.

He had just found humans after a whole lifetime of searching and hoping and praying he wasn't the only one. He had found them at last. And now...now he had to choose between his species and his family? His home? Why? Why couldn't he just go with them? He’d had plans! Fly with them. Guide them. Help them trade. Benson! Benson was with them and had kept his ship. He couldn't abandon his crew, he couldn't leave Flyspur behind. But how could he leave when he had found what he had been looking for for so long? Why was this a choice? Were the humans against a convoy? Did this alien's rules have something against allies? Was it some sort of human tradition he didn't know about? Like when a lady had to abandon her old name and leave her parents? There was so much he didn't know. But Hugh was human. Surely he knew what he was talking about. He was confused, he didn't understand and he had so many questions. But he didn't dare open his mouth, knowing that his voice would crack.

Hugh took Rover's silence as a signal that it was high time to change the subject.

"Now, I expect our next stop is somewhere near the back of this hall?" He gestured toward the distant silhouettes of ships hanging against the smoke and steam of the workmen's fires, in various states of repair and modification.

"Yeah. Just...just up yonder." Rover managed to choke out as he gestured to the very top of the hanger where Hugh could see a catwalk and a string of little windows and doors that skirted the ceiling of the huge building. "Formen are up there so they can oversee the big rigs." He managed to pull a half-distracted almost-smile. He couldn't think about this now. He had to talk to Morft. He had to make this ship deal. He let out a small snort of frustration. Anne, Blue, the Nellie, little Tom, Nana....How could he think about some welding deal when he had to choose between them? But he had to. He had to shut it off. Impossibly distracted, he reached up, lifted his hat and raked a hand through his hair.

He stopped in his tracks. His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open. Turning in a circle, he gaped at the cavernous space with its huge ships and hundred little booths. Finally his gaze fell on Hugh, and he took in a little amazed breath. "Wow..." He looked him up and down. "Oh...right." Suddenly he seemed to remember something and touched the pin on his coat. An instant later he was a small boy. "Name's Rover Finnigan. Put 'er there! Are you a cowboy?"

Somehow, amid all the distracting excitement of the whole Hub/sling-gate/Jssfloon plan, to say nothing of the flood of strange new feelings tangling up her stomach all of a sudden, Anne had completely forgotten to brief Hugh on Rover's situation.

The man stared down at the boy, absolutely baffled. He blinked and shook his head, but the image didn't change. He took a deep breath and tried to think of something to say, but all that came out in the end was a very, very confused "...What?"

The boy cocked his head a little, looking ever so slightly concerned. "I said 'howdy there, I'm Rover Finnigan.' An' I asked if you are a real cowboy. I'm a cowboy too. See? I have...I mean.... I got the hat and everything. Where are we now? Last time I remember I was back on the ship. MY ship. Heh. Anne says it's my ship. So...what is this place? How come I'm with you? I mean... I'm GLAD I'm with you." The boy looked up at him as if he were meeting a real live superhero. He hadn't met a male human yet. Well, an adult one anyway. Hugh looked perfect for the part.

"Uh, Hugh Harris..." He took the boy's hand and shook it uncertainly. "You alright, Friend?"

At the mention of Anne, Hugh saw a port in the storm. "Just a second, I'm just gonna make a call real quick." He held up a finger, then brought his comm up and dialled the captain. A moment later, Anne's face appeared above his wrist.

"You know anything about this?" He moved his comm so that young Rover was visible.

"Ohhh nooo, Hugh!" She looked at him, mortified. "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't explain this!" Her hand came up and covered her mouth. "Rover sustained an injury last night that's effecting his memory. Every now and then if his head gets jarred, his personality zaps back to his 10-year-old self, and stays that way until he gets jarred again. But the doctor says we shouldn't jar him on purpose, as it could cause more damage. He's wearing a hologram cloak to make himself look and sound like his young self when it happens."

"I see..." Hugh absorbed this revelation with remarkable stoicism. "Would'a been nice to know... But this does leave us in a bit of a bind. See, we still ain't talked to the welding people about the ships."

"Hmm..." Anne drummed her fingers on her desk, off camera. "Can you just... Spend some time with him until he switches back? He's a sweet kid, and reeeally into westerns."

Hugh winced, slightly. Things were a mite strained between him and adult Rover at the moment, and it felt a little odd to be spending time with his child self, now. But, it seemed like there was nothing else for it. "You got it, Captain."

He dialled off and turned back to young Rover, who was still grinning up at him.

"Soo... Ya like cowboys, huh?"

The boy's grin quirked to one side and he threw out both hands. "I'm human ain't I? All the best humans are cowboys. Well 'cepting Anne. She ain't a cowboy but she's still great. So where ya from? Texas? Kansas? What's your horse's name?" It seemed while he had been momentarily awed by their surroundings he found Hugh far more fascinating and now barely gave it a glance.

It was still terribly strange, but now that Hugh had a clue of what was going on, he found it easier to think of young Rover as an actual kid. He quirked a smile at him and his enthusiastic questions.

"That right? All the best humans?" He chuckled, and crouched down to Rover's apparent eye-level. He remembered what Rover had said to the guard, that he had grown up on Jssfloon, and thought maybe he hadn't had many humans around him while growing up. "Well little pardner, cowboys are somethin' special. But you know, the world is an awfully big place, full of an awful lot of different sorts. Some folks are cowboys, some folks are other things, just as special." He grinned. "But... My horse's name was Chess. You wanna see a picture?"

He tapped at his comm and brought up a projection of a grainy polaroid. It showed a younger Hugh leaning on a fence- hat, boots, plaid shirt and all- beside a chestnut brown horse with a blond mane and tail.

Rover's hands came up to his mouth and he barely contained an excited squeal. "You DO have a hat! And look at that horse! It's so amazing!"

He mulled over what Hugh said. "Well, I guess there are saloon owners and bankers, and the guys who drive the coaches. Oh, and doctors. They are nice sometimes. But they aren't the HEROES."

Hugh smiled and shook his head at Rover's comments. "Naw, naw, see, all them types of folks you just mentioned are still part of the cowboy world. There's gotta be a million different worlds on Earth, all with their own kinds of heroes and villains and normal folk! Why, there's the royal lords of Brittain, and the warriors of Japan, and the nomads of Mongolia, and the tribes of the Serengeti, and the librarian-knights of Antarctica, and so many more... Still," he grinned and nodded his head at the picture of his horse. "I, for one, am proud to be a cowboy."

Rover's eyes grew wide at the amazing-sounding list. "All those....all those are from Earth? W...wow... I..I mean...of course they are." He grinned at Hugh's last comment. "Well then we got to get you a hat! Come on. This looks like a big place. Surely somebody knows how to make one." He grabbed Hugh's hand and started to pull him toward the nearest vendor. "Lets ask this guy!"

Rover appeared to be a small boy, but he had the strength and weight of a rather large man. When he grabbed Hugh's hand and pulled him along eagerly, the man was unable to resist.

"Whoa, whoa!" He said. "I'm not so sure a metal hat is what I'm lookin' for."

The vendor looked up at this comment. "Why not? Protect you from unwanted radio waves! Or maybe, recieve radio waves you want!" He snatched up a hammerwork bowl from his table and eagerly began hammering a brim around it. "Ready in two minute!"

"No, no, that's alright." Hugh held up the hand that Rover was not holding in a vice-grip.

"Alright!" The vendor smiled. "Good! Two minutes." He went back to hammering feverishly.

"No!" Hugh said with finality. "I do not want a metal hat."

The vendor stopped mid-hammer and waited for him to say more. When nothing more came, his face fell.

"Come on, come on, let's move along." He tried to usher Rover away from the booth.

The boy was waving his hands and shaking his head too as the Vendor started his work. "Wait...wait. That's....that's not what I meant!"

He let out a little huff as Hugh dragged him away. "Well, I was just going to ask him if he knew a good hatter. Heh....I guess a metal hat would keep you protected from anything falling on you though. But it would probably be really heavy. What happened to your hat? I never go anywhere without mine."

Hugh chuckled. "Yeah, I expect it would be." He shrugged at Rover's question. "Oh, my hat's safe as anything, 'bout forty light-years away from my head."

He spied what looked like an area for patrons to sit and wait for their commissioned work to be done. Benches and tables, amid large potted plants and a few artistic metal statues. He led Rover over there.

"See, my hat wouldn't have been considered professional attire by the StarWeb folks. So I left it home when I took this job-- Not realizin' what was in store for us, nor exactly how long this job would turn out to be."

Rover ran his hand through the plants as he neared them. He squinted a little, trying to piece that statement together. "What kind of job won't let you wear a hat? Most everyone wears 'em. Even the city folks have them round lookin' ones." Every time the boy looked up at Hugh there was a note of amazement and admiration in his expression. He was trying to play it cool but this guy was just THE BEST!

Hugh furrowed his brow, trying to figure out where Rover's ideas about such things came from. Earlier he'd mentioned carriages, too. Was he actually some sort of time traveller? Had he been the victim of some sort of early quantum experiment gone awry, winding up blasted across time and space to a planet with no other humans? Well, it was his working theory for the moment.

"I may be a cowboy at heart, but my actual occupation is a little more mechanical in nature. I'm ship's handyman."

Rover thought about this for a second. "Heh. Well I guess you don't have to be a cowboy to be a cowboy. Slim Danger doesn't do much with cows. He's a sheriff. And Maverick was a poker player, of course. So yeah, you can still be a cowboy."

Hugh blinked and his mouth spread into a wide grin. "Now hold on a minute, you a fan of old Slim Danger? Why I used to love that show! Must'a seen every episode about a million times, growin' up."

They had sat down, and now he leaned forward, elbows on the table between them. "You see the one where everybody thinks there's a monster in the lake, but it turns out to be a dummy set up by the mayor to attract publicity? My, that monster terrified me as a kid!"

Huh. There went his time travel theory.

Rover's expression brightened to blinding exuberance and his voice squeaked as words exploded from his mouth.

"Slim is just THE BEST! I've seen them all too, like a BILLION times! Yeah, I love that one! Didn't scare me though. Did you see the one where they went looking for Old Joshua's treasure? Who woulda thought an old guy could booby trap a WHOLE CANYON like that!"

Rover was absolutely beside himself with excitement. Sure Flyspur and Soorn would watch with him, but talking to someone who was already a fan? It was just the best thing ever!

"Did I see it? Shoot, I grew up just an hour's drive South of the canyon where they filmed it!" Hugh grinned proudly. He hadn't thought about that show in so long... "You ever see the lost episodes? Five reels they thought were destroyed in a studio fire back in the 1950s. Turns out they were just being stored in the wrong trunk. Five whole episodes, and they only found them about, oh, fifteen years back! You can bet I've got the special edition box-set on my shelf back home."

Rover's eyes bugged out. "You lived by that canyon? Really?! No foolin’? And there's ones I haven't SEEN?!"

Then he blinked and his head cocked a bit. "Filmed?" He knew what the word meant, of course. But it had never really occurred to him that the stories had to be recorded somehow. He mulled this over for a minute. "Like....like a news drone, right? I guess a Sheriff like that would have one...."

Then his frown deepened along with his confusion. "...but....their cameras were....so big." He remembered the episode where the 'moving pictures' had come to town. "...Slim doesn't...talk about bringin' a camera around....."

Older Rover had realized that the things he watched must be some kind of reenactment but as a boy he had not had such a revelation yet.

Hugh’s eyes widened and he put a hand over his mouth, holding his face. The kid didn’t understand about television shows? Had nobody ever told him how to differentiate between fact and fiction? How did this new angle fit into Rover’s story? Sure would be easier if he could just come out and ask what he wanted to know... But he couldn’t just pump the kid for information, as that wouldn’t be respecting the man’s privacy.

Still, he had to say something. Maybe he could regale this kid with a story that actually was true.

“Let me tell you a story of something that happened to my great, great, great grandfather. See, the old homestead and ranch are still in my family’s possession. It passed to my older sister as an inheritance, and she and her family are livin’ there now, taking care of the house and the property. Area’s been built up a lot over time, but back in the days of my great, great, great grandfather Silas, there was nothing around but fields, forest, and a little creek windin’ through. Anyway, came an Autumn when a group of outlaws was causing trouble for the whole tri-county area. Robbin’ coaches, rustlin’ small cattle, terrorizin’ peaceful folk, the whole bit. Local constabulary couldn’t get a handle on them and didn’t know where they were hidin’ out. Well, one day while Silas was out hunting partridge near the edges of the property, he came across a little cave by the water-- More of a wash-away, really. There he found what looked like a camp, as well as a stash of stolen loot. Well, what could he do? He knew if he confronted the outlaws himself he’d be shot in a moment, and then what would become of his great, great, great grandson Hugh? Couldn’t have that. But he didn’t like the idea of a shootout on his property if the Sheriff and his men were to attack them head-on, either. So he had himself a think, and devised a little plan. See, his wife was what you’d call a prolific baker. Always had bread, or a cake, or a batch of cookies on the go. He rushed home and consulted with her, and in a few minutes she was startin’ in on making an apple pie-- with the addition of a special ingredient. Sleeping draught. My great, great, great grandmother suffered from insomnia, you see, so they always had some about the place.” Hugh shrugged and smiled. “Such a plan might not be considered kosher today, but it sure did the trick. Silas went back to the cave and delivered the piping hot pie while the place was still abandoned, just as if the bandits’ own granny had dropped in for a visit and found them out. Then he hid nearby to watch. Before long, the band returned after a day of lawless deeds, and they found the pie. After only a little bit of suspicious talk, they tucked in. Pie is pie, after all! Only then, did Silas go to fetch the lawmen. Sure enough, when the Sheriff arrived with his men and a paddy-wagon, they found all the bandits snoozing like babies. Every one of them was taken into custody, and not a single shot was fired. And so, my great, great, great grandfather-- and my great, great, great grandmother-- were heroes that year. Now isn’t that a story worth the hearing?”
Rover hung on every word of Hugh's story, his eyes wide and his mouth half open, unable to believe that he was hearing an actual true story from an actual real human right in front of him. He laughed and clapped at the amusing finale. "Shucks, that was the greatest story I ever heard! Your grand-folks sound AMAZING! Have you ever caught any bad guys? I would have but there just aren't that many on Jssfloon."

Hugh smiled and nodded. "I got no doubt of it. “