He took it down from the top of the cupboard and coughed as he blew the dust off the box. Taking up his usual position on the bed, he took the lid off and set the box down. Right on top was the beaded belt from Boni and he hesitated touching it, the strange feeling he felt in Oh Aces creeping over his back. Finally he picked it up and spread it across his lap. It told the story of his time with the Kit Kats from when they first found him in the hills, dying from wounds and thirst, to when he and Boni . . .

He stopped and stared at the symbols showing two figures riding away from the village. He had never really studied it before, just sort of acknowledged it as a parting gift and let it go at that. Now, seeing the symbols at the end of the belt, he knew she had anticipated his agreeing to take her with him and had made the story comply with that hope. Why now would this bother him? It was so many years ago. What had happened in Destiny that was giving him these strange feelings? He folded the belt up and instead of putting it back in the box he set aside on the bed then began looking through the rest of the contents, this time more carefully.

He took out the scarred badge again and looked at it, trying to picture the circumstances causing it. Another piece of metal caught his eye, something he had not noticed before, and he lifted it out carefully, his mouth opening in sudden recognition. Aside from his gun and holster, it was the only item recovered from his father's body and handed over to a much younger 3Gun. He pried it open and stared at the yellow tinted picture of the woman that was his mother.

A stiff curl of hair was stuck to one half and he had to think it was from his own head as a baby. He had never know his mother and being raised by a gunfighter father had not provided much of a home or family life. 3Gun was deposited with any number of obliging women or families his father could find. By the time he had reached his teens he had achieved a modest education from his various guardians and a strong proficiency with a six gun.

He closed the locket and put it back in the box. Memories best left alone, he thought. The badge went back as well and he sighed heavily; the beaded belt aside, nothing had thrown any light on what he was feeling. He closed the box and sat looking at the scratches and stains on the old wooden lid. Time to lock it up for good, which he did, placing back on top of the cupboard. When he turned back he saw the belt still on the bed and he held his breath a second. Something about it still niggled at him and he picked it up and tucked it inside his jacket.

Maybe he would figure it out one day.