Disclaimer: Mobile Suit Gundam Wing and all its characters are copyright Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu.
That was a sound Trowa could identify from a mile off. Three more or less identical clicks followed the first and Trowa raised his hands to turn slowly toward the four gunmen. For ranch hands they were extremely well groomed, not richly dressed, but everything was clean and their faces were freshly shaven.
The largest kneed his horse closer to the intruder. "This is private property and you're trespassing."
"Is this how you treat everyone?" Trowa asked in a monotone. "It's amazing this ranch still functions."
"We didn't ask for no lip, boy!" one of the underlings spat. "Speak your peace and git!"
"I heard you were looking for help. I'm in need of work."
"You got any experience?" asked the leader.
"Not at ranching, but I'm sure I can and will do anything you put me to." His tone was still neutral.
The leader stared at Trowa for a full minute before replying, "It just so happens we need someone like that. Follow me. You three!" He slashed his arm through the air sending the others off onto the vastness of the range. He then led Trowa down the path without another word.
Security was tight. This had to be the place.
Eventually, a shape took hold in the distance and became more distinct as they approached. It was a house, a big capital "H" house. It had four stories before the shingled roof began and Trowa could see at least two more stories held in the confines of the roof and a basement. The foundation of the main house covered more square anchorage than most villages.
Then there were the stables, several barns, a silo, the kitchen and the bunk house and there was no telling what was concealed behind the bulk of those buildings. Trowa wasn't entirely sure, but he thought he could make out the edge of a smithy.
"Mr. Winner calls her Colony," the big man offered.
The name made sense in an odd sort of way. The Winners settled here and in essence became a colony.
Trowa's escort didn't say another word until he reached the house, dismounted and called for a stableman. Trowa held on to his reins. "I will see to Heavyarms later."
"Don't worry. Cal is great with beasts."
"It's Cal I'm worried about."
"Ah." The big man pulled Cal off to the side, spewing a length of Arabic and the stableman left with only the big man's horse in tow.
Trowa wrapped Heavyarms' reins around the saddle horn. "Stay here." The pinto whinnied, stamped his foot and froze.
The big man shook his head and waved for Trowa to follow him into the house. He was led into a side room to wait until Mr. Winner could be informed of his job request, but it wasn't long before the wait was over.
Mr. Winner's office was the least impressive thing Trowa had seen since he spotted the house. It was a cramped room with a single beat up desk that was cluttered with papers. There were two wooden chairs facing the desk. The only other chair was occupied by a kind-looking blond-haired boy.
The door closed behind Trowa.
"Hello," said the boy, smiling. "I'm Quatre Raberba Winner."
This was not the Winner. It had to be his son. "Trowa Barton."
"Thank you for coming so quickly. My father said you were reliable." He folded his hands on the desk.
"I was under the impression that he was the one who sent for me."
The boy's face scrunched up for only a moment before settling into a determined stare. "My father said that you owe him a great deal."
Is that what the kid was playing at? The debt was not something to be played with.
"That debt can only be cashed in by your father, so don't try and use it on me, now. You've wasted my time long enough. If that's all..." He rose out of his seat and turned to leave.
"My father's dead."
Dead?
"Damn."
"The only way you can repay him now is to help me." The kid hadn't so much as twitched.