In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #959):

Cole casts a curious glance towards JEB.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #959):

JEB walks towards the man and greets him when they meet: Good day, pastor. Have you seen Father Deeds around town?

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #961):

The Pastor returns JEB's greeting. "Good afternoon, Sheriff." He seems interested in JEB's companions, glancing around the lawman without much subtlety.

"I have not seen the good Father this day. If I do, shall I tell him you are looking for him? Where shall he find you? Are you staying long in town?"

JEB notices that the Pastor is carrying a large cylindrical tin with a slot cut into the top.

EDIT: making speech text blue
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:31, Wed 24 Nov 2010.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #962):

That's fine, thank you. He can look for us at Drovers through tonight. What's that contraption you have there, if you dont mind me askin'?

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #963):

Keeping a firm grip on the cylindrical tin, Thompson shows it to JEB and the lawman hears the rattling of metal against metal. The Pastor's face is beaming as he explains.

"I am so blessed for you to ask," he begins. "This is the church's portable collection box. I am collecting alms for the poor today. As you know, part of our mission is to feed and clothe those less fortunate than ourselves. Your contribution today will make a substantial difference in our ministry's efforts. Can you spare a few coins on this glorious day?" The Pastor waits expectantly, glancing among the men from the NBO.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #964):

Art pats JEB on the back and looking at him says, “Yes, thank you so much. We’re all blessed you thought to ask.”

Art fishes two bits from his pocket and tuning to the Priest he reaches to deposit it in the slot. “Thank you, Father, for all your good work. In fact, maybe you have a quick blessing for us.”

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #964):

Though he doesn't like the hard sell, Travis knows some good works come from such men.  Travis fishes around in his pocket.  Steps forward and throws a dollar into the poor box.  He tips his hat to the Pastor and not caring if others give or not he moves on.

OOC:  Transaction noted on scratchpad and cash removed from PC.

In reply to Artemus Carson (msg #965):

"Thank you, gentleman. God bless you all." The Pastor nods and smiles at Travis and Artemus. The clean-shaven young man directs his attention to Art.

"I am not a priest, sir. My name is Thompson; I am the pastor of the Baptist Church at the south end of town. I had the pleasure of meeting the Sheriff and Father Deeds yesterday morning. What is your name, may I inquire?"

Randy finishes his apple-transaction.  He plans to haul the sack around until he returns to the horses.

He considers other purchases, but decides not except for one -- another set of saddlebags with a saddle blanket.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #967):

"Sorry Father Pastor," Art removes his hat and extends his hand "I'm Artemus Carson."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #964):

JEB grits his teeth at so easily taking the bait, silently tosses two bits into the can and moves to rejoin Cole.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #968):

Randy finds a leatherworker, but the man doesn't have saddle bags. As it happens, he shows the big man a set he is working on right now. He says he can have it done on the morrow.

In reply to Artemus Carson (msg #969):

The pastor tucks the tin under his left arm and grasps Art's hand. His grip is sincere, but not firm.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #972):

Cole looks around for any sign of the cowpokes he met at breakfast. When he notices that the others have made donations, Cole drops in 2 bits, as well. After a brief nod to the preacher, Cole continues his search for his potential hires.

Telling the leather worker not to hold the bags for him, Randy says he'll return in a couple of days to buy the set.

"Mr. Carson," says the pastor, releasing Art's hand, "thank you for your generosity."

Pastor Thompson accepts Cole's deposit with a nod. A moment of uncomfortable silence passes.

"I see that you have business to attend to," he says to no one in particular. "I shall take my leave." He turns and walks toward one of the vendors.

Meanwhile, as Cole scans the small market, he fails to see either Jake or Emory.

Checking his watch, Artemus sees that it is 1:40 p.m.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #975):

Turning to Cole Artemus nods towards his watch as he stows it. Today's half shot. We got maybe six hours of light left. Don't seem like we're getting much done. Time to quit fixin' to git gittin and git on with git gittin.

Or we could shop... git somethin to eat... sample the local ladies. Your call.

In reply to Artemus Carson (msg #976):

As the pastor departs.  Travis look of propriety is replaced with one of mirth.

W could git, Art.  Unless JEB wants to inquire about any other local charities we can contribute to.

Travis chuckles at the situation and the gritted teeth of his friend, JEB.

Next drink is on you Pard.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #977):

A broad simle crosses Art's face as he looks to JEB

Amen, brother!

"Did somebody say something about eatin'?  I wants to fill my belly."  Randy grumbles, or his tummy grumbles, to the others.

Cole turns to Art, then shrugs his shoulders. He then looks up at the position of the run in the sky.

A look of resignation crosses Cole's face.

Looks like we might as well go and get something to eat.

He then nods to Randy and moves off towards the Inn.

Someone else might feel burdened by a twenty-five sack; Randy doesn't.  In fact, food makes Randy fleet-of-foot.  If his trail mates intend to eat anything, they must keep up.

If one were so inclined to look very closely at Randy, he seems led, no less, by his stomach.  It protrudes slightly in front of him, as if following an undetectable scent.

No worries, I ain't been exactly eating regular cookin of late. Let's chow down. And as it goes, I stand a little companionship. . . and a night in bed.

The men from the NBO head back toward the Drovers Cottage, with JEB navigating the streets as if he has been here for some time. Passing the Alamo Saloon again, they walk alongside a small group of shacks and tents.

With their minds on a meal, the men are startled first by a man's exclamation from within a tent not 20 yards distant, then by the appearance of a wild-eyed Indian woman who scrambles out of the tent, with a large, bloody knife clutched between both hands. She doesn't seem to notice the cowboys in the slightest; rather, she turns and runs toward a row house along the thoroughfare.

-------------

OOC: Please state your actions. 24-hour rule . . . you snooze you lose.

OOC: Closing this chapter. Please post in the next.