This here document is set in writing to chronicle the events--wild and wooly or downright mundane--of a group of extraordinary persons prior to their arrival in Shackleford County (1871 - 1876).

Penned by Judge W.H. Ledbetter
Witnessed by Judge B.T. Messalen

So, Randy had a horse in tow and two friends with him: one friend whom he respected tremendously and one whom his hatchet is buried.

He re-emphasized his interest in delivering the horse to the warrior woman.  Likely, the warrior is far ahead of them and singularly difficult to find.  Randy expressed the idea she might want to raid their campfire.  That, he feels, will lure her.

She proved too clever to fall for such a trick as they head toward the Indian nation in Colorado.

A few months passed before the trio felt exasperation and concern their endeavor is simply not working...

OOC:
I know I'm making some assumptions in this short narrative about the months following the herd delivery to Abilene.  I'm interested in knowing if it is palatable and if others are interested in joining.

I can't engrave stone, so the delete key is certainly usable.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #2):

Travis likes to Forest Gump through history.  He notes

Late 1871 Wickenberg massacre in Arizona Territories...

1872 Modoc Wars in Oreggon and No California

Goingsnake massacre of US marshalls (can you say ob openings?)

1873 Buffalo Hunted to near extinction over next two years. (Tasty)

Custer first encounters Sioux

Mododc wars end

1874 Bat Masterson and the Battle of Adobe Walls.

Deadwood grows to 5000 in population over next two years.

1875  Tong Wars in San Francisco

1876 Battle of Little Big Horn.

Any threads here any interest in going to CA or Deadwood?
This message was last edited by the player at 20:56, Sun 04 Sept 2011.

Yellow Sanders would have followed Travis out when they quit the No Buffalo Outfit. He was reminded that they sought Meri's killer, the Indian (?). He would most likely have tagged along to Arizona (1871). He would have rejoined him as they went to prospect for Gold in Deadwood 1874 or 1875. In fact, they may have been sitting with Wild Bill during the "Dead's Man Hand" incident.


He may have followed Travis to San Fran 1875 & fell in love with a lovely Celestial named Mei-ying Jiang. The young woman was being held as a virtual salve at a Opium den there until Yellow & mayhaps Travis raided the place & rode off with Mei.

Will think on this some more. Cheers Meriyellow

All of the ideas are really cool, but I think we're at the point of deciding on what is logical and suitable for Fort Griffin.

What say we put our efforts to that context?

Travis, is that your decided path?

Yellow, do you concur?

Ayasha, does an Indian go in the woods?  Does a chief wear a funny hat?

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #5):

No these are just some events I saw spending a few minute with Google.  I was thinking of leveraging 1 or 2 to put some structure on character development.  I'll go anywhere do anything.  I checked out my development path.  My reputation will increase from +1+3 which borders on "High" so it would make sense that he would continue making a name for himself.  Troubleshooting, scouting, bounty hunting, law enforcement (just the gun not the knowledge), protecting the innocent that sort of stuff.

It will be helpful if players work out some back story that would connect to Fort Griffin. It doesn't have to be immediate or continuous over the timeline. So, for example, it's viable for characters to go to Deadwood in 1875 before making their way to The Flat in 1877.

The idea of picking a couple of key events, including any on Travis' list, is fine. But as Randy points out, keeping an eye on connections to Shackleford County, Texas will make the transition easier. For example, Randy's idea to take up a career in prizefighting would provide an easy connection (Shannsey's saloon, owned by an ex-prizefighter).

Events that are in or near Texas (e.g. the Second Battle of Adobe Walls, Buffalo Hunting) could make connections more viable. Also, a number of famous personages ended up in Fort Griffin in the mid-1870s. Finding connections to them in previous years (Forest Gumping it, if Travis pleases) whether in Texas or somewhere else will help.

A few examples: Ben and Billy Thompson, Doc Holliday, Big Nose Kate, John Selman, Sheriff John Larn, Sheriff William Cruger, Lottie "The Poker Queen" Deno, Frank Thurmond, Wyatt Earp, and John Wesley Hardin.

If I read JM correctly, we need to depart the realms of what if and would be nice for the more fruitful pastures of sure, that's a damn good idea.

What Randy says is true, but I meant it when I said I wasn't in a rush. For me, seeing a conversation about this is good progress. If the conversation continues and evolves, I'm happy. Moving from "what if" to "here's the agreed-upon timeline" does need to happen, but it doesn't need to happen overnight. For example, you could agree to combine Randy's prizefighting scheme with a trip to Deadwood, but characters that want to be involved would need to agree and put that on their individual timelines--and then try to coordinate another period of time with the same or other characters. So, please continue the discussion.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #9):

Sheriff James E. “JEB” Beauregard returned to Marshfield, Missouri following his employment with Major Gray’s No Buffalo Outfit during the cattle drive from Texas to Kansas.  JEB was looking forward to a peaceable sequestration, but upon his homecoming he found the town in poorer condition than when he left it largely due to the attention of the James-Younger gang which robbed the Webster County Savings Association on June 14, 1872.  Sadly, the deputy JEB left in charge while he was away, Owen Lorman, was murdered by the outlaw Jesse James as the gang made its escape.  There is no limit to the amount of regret and responsibility JEB felt for young Owen’s demise and this being the motivation for JEB spending the next five years unsuccessfully hunting the James-Younger gang brings him and his posse of sorts to the town of Fort Griffin, Texas in January, 1877 there being a Frank James sighting in the vicinity.  Acknowledging that detaining any member of the outlaw gang alone was madness, JEB recruited his old NBO partners, Travis Sunday, pistoleer, and Cole Trayne, aficionado of animal husbandry, to share the trail.

Travis and Cole serve as proxies for any PC willing to join JEB in the timeline and they are certainly welcome to play any role in the narrative be it even a small one (per Travis' Forest Gump analogy). This is only a concept based on JEB's experience and there are definitely liberties taken with historical references and NPCs. JEB is willing to become a part of any other timeline that presents an engaging back story.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #10):

JEB and the rest of Cole's former trail-mates would know that if they wished to reach him, they could just leave word at his home town. Cole is known to check in with his friends and family from time to time.

Upon hearing that his friend JEB could use some backup, Cole would be happy to oblige. Cole always did like Owen, so anything he could do to make that there situation right, he would do.

Enjoying the ideas presented here. Looking for Ayasha to chime in as well.

Pretty much any of these ideas can work. I don't mind the liberties taken with connections to historical figures--as long as those connections don't change the history as we understand it today. So, for example, having the James-Younger Gang involved in JEB's back story is okay, as long as his contact with them remains tangental to the generally accepted historical record (JEB's description of 'five years of unsuccessfully hunting' and the tip that leads him to Shackleford County works in that regard).

Of course, if JEB is occupied the entire five years, then the other PCs will have to determine whether they intersect with him at some given point along the trail, or for the whole time, or not at all. That means we need to know where the trail might have taken the lawman, so others can intersect at some point. Five years is a long time on the frontier--it is likely that people would drift apart for one reason or another for a time, perhaps to be reunited later. For example, it would be my guess that Travis would want to join JEB, but maybe not for five years based on Travis' list of possible events he might want to Gumpize, unless those events coincide with the places that JEB must go in his search. It's unlikely (and a bit too much of a stretch for the Judge) that JEB's trek would lead him to San Francisco or Deadwood . . . so if Travis and Yellow (and anyone else) wanted to connect in San Francisco, it would have to happen parallel to JEB's story, with a possible intersection somewhere in say, Kansas, Iowa, Minnesota, Missouri or Texas.

My comments are intended only as continuing conversation about how the various PC timelines can be connected. So, it is still up to the players to coordinate these ideas into a viable timeline that works for everyone.

Keep laying track and nailing those spikes, we'll meet in that proverbial Promontory Point before long.

Chiming in, Judge, chiming in.

I do think actually that if Randy (and others) are serious about catching up to Ayasha, they probably will. She will need to hunt and gather food all the way, because her supplies are non-existent in the beginning. So she probably will be slower than the cowboys. She would be touched by them coming after her, although she might think at first that the men following her are there to get the horse back she stole (if she realizes she is being followed before she can recognize anyone).

I'd be happy to not have her get back to her tribe immediately - something can come up along the way that provides some adventure.

Ayasha would by now understand that there are good and bad white men - and that it is not that easy to condemn all palefaces. Still, I would like to have her (and her society) take part in the 2nd Battle of Adobe Walls, since those are buffalo hunters, and those are the worst white men. (So don't ever tell her you went buffalo hunting...)

There could be someone from the group on the other side, maybe saving Ayasha's life without her realizing it. The battle is a disaster for the Indians of course, and after that she would probably not take part in the Red River War. I'd think she might travel north, to visit with the Northern Cheyenne.

Even though she has realized by then that the white men are not to be defeated, she would find herself in a big camp at a small river named Little Big Horn in 1876. When it is attacked by Custer and his bluecoats, she will fight - she is a member of a warrior society after all. I would find it very interesting when some of the other players could be there with Custer, so that Ayasha can save them from being killed. Obviously, that might not be something for everyone, but I'd like that.

Sounds like early in the timeline, there is consensus for Ayasha reuniting with Randy and Travis. The two men had already discussed following her at the close of the cattle drive back in Abilene. Yellow has expressed a desire to join. Art is uncertain. Sounds like JEB and Cole's stories, from conversations in Abilene and ideas expressed herein, would take them in a different direction; however, I'm amenable to the idea of anyone who wants to join.

I would like to begin by nailing this down. Once connected with Ayasha, where does this group go? What "heroic or meaningful" things will that group do?

At some point, it seems clear that Ayasha would return to her tribe, so that would provide a natural breaking point. Let's fix this early part of the timeline.

I always had the thought in the back of my mind that Randy would 'escort' her to her tribe.

Hopefully, in the time traveling back to the Cheyenne, Randy could learn their language.  In the process, his own speech would improve.  Also, the big boy's attitude toward women would evolve as well--no longer thinking they always need of protection from a man.

Since I (player) don't have a good grasp on the epic travails of the times, it would be to his advantage to team with Travis following the trip to the tribe.  That doesn't mean Randy wouldn't get involved in a skirmish on behalf of the Indians.

Now, Ayasha would be best to take that lead.

Traveling back to Ayasha's village wouldn't take long. And that alone wouldn't meet my criteria an extra level advancement.

The heroes would need to do something for a time (I think I wrote 6 months to a year, although that was more of a guideline than a hard requirement) to qualify for the level. That's also how long Randy would likely need to learn Cheyenne (it would be part of earning the level, yes?). Please bear in mind that at least part of the point of coordinating back stories is because I'm offering the additional level.

Of course, the PCs could go straight to the Cheyenne village if they aren't concerned about this being a triangle that awards a level. The players may view this event as a way to establish a further relationship with Ayasha, for a later reuniting. Still, it's possible an adventure could arise from that decision . . . the players simply need to work out the timeline and summarize the events.

An idea: the group travels to the village, but it is gone . . .

I had the idea that while travelling to the village, they find an attacked settlement. Dead settlers with arrows sticking out of them. Closer inspection reveals though that these are arrows used by a tribe that lives far away from here - basically it's arrows stuck into the bullet holes to blame Indians for the raid.

Someone wants to ignite hostilities...

In the first year since working for the NBO, Cole would return east to sit a spell with his family. Times are tough and he would need to see for himself that his family members are doing well.

During his time there, he will put some of his affairs in order. As Buck is getting up there in years, Cole decides to leave him with his family. He will do just fine helping around their ranch.

Cole and Jack will then spend some time working with Bess and teaching her the tricks that he has found most useful on the trail.

(still working on some details...)

In reply to Ayasha (msg #17):

Travis will go with Ayasha and Randy to A's tribe.

I think he would then spend some time hunting Yuma the Coward and avenging Meri.

Travis has no problems maintaining company with Ayasha and Randy, and partnering with anyone.

If left to his own devices I'd imagine he may sign on as an emergency Deputized US Marshall after Goingsnake.

If he had no further offers... Probably move through Arizona back to San Francisco.  His Chinese and Apache serving him well as he affiliated with Fort Ord (Later Ft Apache) in the White Mountain Indian Reservation stopping Coyotero Apache Indian raids on settlers and later going Yojimbo/Fistfull of Dollars during the San Francisco Tong Wars.

Deadwood would be acceptable if anyone was interested in going there and wants his company.

Travis would definitely respond to a call (he's always available via the SF Western Union Office) to bring to justice Owen's murderer.  This would bring him to Fort Griffith.

Travis would like to earn cash and commission some masterwork weaponry.

Yuma's dead, baby. Yuma's dead.

Oh, come on people. Give Yuma a break.

I'm positive somebody got medieval on his ass.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #21):

It's okay, Ayasha, they're just embarrassed because Yuma almost beat the whole posse by himself.

Hey there! Yellow told Travis he'd follow him on Yuma's trail as well, if the gunfighter will have the cow poke. Being a part of the NBO, he'd get on well with Randy too. Yellow, I assume, would be much like Randy... shy around women. However, being the gentleman would see Ayasha home. Maybe Travis could teach him Chinese? He'd head up to San Fran with Travis & probably split there. Here he'd fall for that Celestial & help her hop town. They'd move west settle in Texas, he'd resume cow-poking for a while & she set up an Apothecary (complete with Laudunum). Somehow he & Mei get separated & then receives word from Travis about the gold-strike in Deadwood. Yellow leaves to join him there. Maybe they stake a claim? Maybe just hang out. Afterword, when the claim is a wash... he heads back to Texas for another stint at ranching, until he hears that Jeb, Travis, & Cole are all headed to Fort Griffin & he heads that way too.

Just my two or three coppers but its late. Let me know. Still strung out on meds so it could be a little wacky. Cheers Meriyellow

In reply to Yellow Sanders (msg #24):

I re read my message and wondered where Yellow had gone.  Doh!

Randy how long do you want to hang with Travis.  When are you Prizefighting to Texas.  Travis could follow.

Notes to self:
Yellow and Travis off with Ayasha and Randy to Tribe.

Travis, Yellow and others to kill Yuma.

Then with Yellow and others to SF.  to accomodate Yellow's timeline.  Then to Arizona  maybe Deadwood and Texas.  Work in other timelines through the last few years.  Travis and Ayasha at the Little Big Horn?

just thinking...

I'm very okay with Travis being at Little Big Horn. Is anyone else interested?

Here is my problem though. Say Ayasha, Travis, Yellow and Randy adventure a bit together. Yuma would definitely be a theme at some point, and Ayasha would tell the guys that he has stepped in as a secondary father for her after her real father has died. She would explain in detail that his actions were only to protect her. Would they still want to kill Yuma?

Randy wants to return to prize fighting as soon as possible.  Cattle are fine, but thuds are better.

Randy isn't going to carry a grudge against Yuma.




I am really of the impression Yuma is dead.  The two preceding quotes are only some of the few references I remember.

---

So, up to the point of returning to the Cheyenne territory, Randy stays with Ayasha.  I believe Yellow has expressed the same as Travis to accompany them.

I don't mean to speak for anyone/everyone, but moving to a point in timely fashion.

The six-month trip to the Cheyenne territory is mostly uneventful.  Along the way are some stumbles and the odd fall, but everyone arrives in good health.  Interestingly, Randy doesn't have to buy more shirts along the way.  Also, he stops chewing tobacco.  He soaks up Ayasha's teaching of her language.  Since she seems to have a better grasp of his language, Randy also improves his grammar and tense.

Ayasha, would you address the arrival and time with the tribe?  How would the men be welcomed after escorting/following her back to the territory?

I don't think Randy would care to take up the fight for either side in the Battle of Little Bighorn, or any part of the Black Hills War.

At this point, I really need help figuring out what goes next.  Prize-fighting would be great.

Neither of those quotes mentions Yuma. Interpreting both of those as Randy has done must assume that Yuma was with Ayasha when she was captured. I'm quite certain that neither the Judge nor Ayasha ever said that Yuma was with Ayasha at that time, or that he was dead. Randy's interpretation of those statements is just that: Randy's interpretation.


I don't have any problems with Randy's summary, except that the trip to her village  isn't a 6-month trip. That's way off. I said earlier that it wouldn't take long to travel to her tribe, and thus this group (Ayasha, Yellow, Travis, Randy) would need to do something else that is meaningful or heroic along the way in order to qualify for the extra level (or accept that this portion of the timeline doesn't qualify for the extra level). That could mean a diversion before reaching the tribe, or some form of adventure after reaching the tribe. Ayasha had suggested one such possible scenario; I had suggested a slightly different scenario. Either can work, the Judge is less concerned about the specific content of the adventure and more concerned about the coordination of the back story.

As for Randy's general point--it's a good reminder that someone needs to build the timeline from the ideas being suggested (if no one volunteers, I'll do it, but it is still too early to do that, based on my reading of the conversation). In my opinion, pretty much all of the ideas are viable, but they need to be logically arranged and better coordinated so I will know who should be awarded the extra level. The point about Yuma is relevant. If indeed the group is going back to the Cheyenne tribe and they consider one of its leaders to be an enemy--well, that scenario must be explained in the back story, whatever the conclusion may be.

So there is still work to be done by the players, unless you all just want to move on without picking up a third level of advancement. I don't want to force you to participate in this part of the game if it isn't of interest to you--my idea was to provide an incentive to participate in telling a 5-year narrative in a cooperative fashion. Anyone that wishes to forego the extra level should just say so. I'm fine with that and you have provided enough back story ideas for us to arrange a timeline for each individual character. But anyone wishing to get the extra level needs to continue the good work being done so far and sort out a timeline and story--in a cooperative fashion.

I tried to piece together a preliminary timeline based on PC posts so far. There were some ideas presented that would contradict each other, so I subjectively chose one or the other for this first essay. I don't consider this definitive in any way. There are still several large gaps to be addressed, and the Judge would ask the players to flesh-out the noted "Undetermined" elements.

October 1871 - March 1877

October 1871
Travis, Yellow, Randy and Ayasha to Southern Cheyenne village
JEB begins trek home (circuitous, if he doesn't get there until June 1872)
Cole returns to his family home

November 1871 - June 1872
Travis, Yellow, Randy and Ayasha have Undetermined Adventure

June 1872
JEB returns home to find Owen Lorman dead
JEB Sends word to Cole Trayne and Travis Sunday (Sunday doesn't get wire until after Undetermined Adventure)

June 1872
JEB begins search for Owen (Undetermined Locations along the way)

July 1872
Travis, Yellow, and Randy begin Undetermined Adventures (Randy begins prizefighting if not already underway)
Ayasha remains with tribe

October 1872
Cole joins JEB's search in Undetermined Location

January 1873
Yellow lands in San Francisco; meets Mei-ying Jiang
(Travis might accompany)

June 1874
Yellow and Mei-ying Jiang move to Texas

June 1874
Ayasha at Second War of Adobe Walls

June 1876
Travis and Ayasha at the Battle of Little Big Horn

January 1877
JEB and Cole arrive in Fort Griffin

March 1877
Others arrive in Fort Griffin

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #29):

I haven't forgotten.  Still working on it.

So, is everyone still insisting to take revenge on Yuma? Or did my plea have some effect?

In reply to Ayasha (msg #31):

I'm working on something Yuma related.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #30):

I appreciate the check-in posts. After almost 10 days of nothing, I was beginning to wonder . . . .

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #32):

You know, Yuma doesn't have to be the target of anything.  It's okay to just move on to advance the story.  Why waste time that will likely offend and exclude one of the potential party members.

Just let it go for now, unless JM tosses a curve in the mix.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #34):

Check out what I come up with and then let me know if I navigated this issue properly.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #35):

Of course, that's fair.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #35):

Sounds good to me.

I do hope none of you is going to be at Adobe Walls?

In reply to Ayasha (msg #37):

With all the trouble I've had with Adobe PageMaker, I have no interest in Adobe Walls.

  "Following the cattle drive that brought Travis Sunday to Abilene, he departed quickly with a noted Prize Fighter named Randy Oldman, Yellow Sanders and an Indian woman of some repute with the local tribes.  There is little recorded evidence of what then transpired, but historians have ascertained through journals and other second hand accounts that Sunday rode off to avenge the death of Merriwether Lewis Smythe (See Chapter 8, The British Are Coming).

  Yuma, who Sunday accused of breaking parley and shooting at the pistoleros while their back was turned  and later killing Smythe when such an action was not necessary (Yuma having the ability to increase distance and using a long arm to Smythe's signature Webleys) was not hard to find.  What occurred at their meeting remains a secret.  What we do know is that Sunday returned uninjured.  He declared that honor concerning Smythe's death had been satisfied and "the scales of justice had been balanced." Surprisingly he added that he had not harmed Yuma, nor through inaction allowed him to come to harm.   Though no one doubted his word, no record of Yuma since that meeting has ever been uncovered.

  After that Sunday followed Oldman on a Prize Fighting tour of the Southwest.  Later records show he and Yellow Sanders arrived in San Francisco in July of 1873.  It is there that he purchased another modified Starr pistol.  He hired out as a gun to the locals.  His fluency in Chinese holding him in good stead as gang wars swept the docks frequently.  As is seen throughout his career, he was paid for his work but the "Black Hats" would have paid him more.

  From there back to Arizona where he rode as a Deputy US Marshall for a short time bringing a few renegade Apaches to justice and a few bounty hunters who considered all Apache the same and killed indiscriminately.  From there to Deadwood and the Great Plains.   Records place him near the Little Big Horn.  His previous history with the Marias Massacre would lead us to believe he remained neutral through the conflict.  He always recognized the inevitability of the destruction of the great horse cultures but could not actively participate in such.  It was then that Sunday learned that his old trailmates Cole Trayne and "JEB" Beauregard had tracked the James-Younger gang to Fort Griffin.  Sunday who had been fond of Owen Lorman did not hesitate to ride quickly to Texas where yet another major milestone awaited the Man from the Sixth Michigan."

-- From Gunfighters of the Old West, 1927, University of Kansas Press.

I owe the Judge a follow up, I was wondering if Randy or anyone else wanted to be in San Francisco when Yellow and I were there.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #40):

I'm working on Randy's tails of the trales.

Yes, Randy wants to fight in San Francisco.

  The cool breeze from the wharf brought the smell of salt into Chinatown.  Travis Sunday walked calmly through the alley ways lined with exotic shops.  Giggling children and scolding elderly busied themselves with lighting street lamps as fathers and mothers prepared for the evening meal.  “This is a good place,” he thought to himself.

  The Chinese had come to America for a better life as his family had.  They worked hard and had valuable skills. Travis respected that.  And though California needed all the skills the immigrants brought, it was the particular skill of Mister Min that led Travis away from the families, deeper into the shadows where the familiar door at the end of a nondescript alley awaited.

  Arriving precisely at 7:00 PM, he swept off his duster and straightened his shirt.  Smiling he looked forward to the now familiar banter.  Travis would greet Mr. Min in Chinese, Mr. Min would respond in English.  Travis would compliment his daughter Die and refer to her exclusively as Mindy.  Mr. Min would complain loudly.  Travis would insist when their business was done he would court his daughter.  Mr. Min forbade any such foolishness.   Chinese and Yankees could never live together he would protest.  The pleasantries finished, the two would get to work.  Adjusting weights and grips, calculating precise trigger pressures, and prioritizing and balancing dozens of other factors they had taken an ordinary mass-produced weapon and were turning it into a masterpiece.  The armorer and gunslinger had engaged in an intimate give and take for months.  That was at an end, for tonight the pistol was ready.

  Travis knocked on the heavy wooden door.  Slowly the door responded to the force of the knock and opened inward, slightly.  Travis stepped back.  This door had never been left unlocked.  This rear entrance only accommodated clients.  Travis scanned the alley.  No signs of danger or trouble were evident.

  “Come in Mr. Sunday.  You are expected.” A familiar accented voice said from inside the building.

  “Where’s Mr. Min, Tommy?” Travis asked as he pushed the door open and entered the workshop.  There by the craftsman’s bench was Tommy Cho, aspiring crime lord and unwelcome guest.  Two of his boys had scatterguns pointed in his direction.  Travis didn’t mind, much.  If Tommy had wanted him dead he would have made his play in the alley.  He never looked at the two men who had the drop on him he focused instead at the man holding their leash.  Tommy was medium height, medium build, had average looks, average Chinese garb and an average voice.  Everything about Tommy was average except his oversized intellect and his need to rule the San Francisco underworld.

  “Sheng-Li and Die are upstairs, where they will remain until our business is complete.”  Tommy turned in the chair and fiddled with the tools of the armorer’s trade.  Treating them as curiosities to be examined and noted but never used.

  Travis walked in and sat in the rocker.  “We have no business.  I won’t work for you.”

“You will tonight,” he said.  Then he turned in his chair and stared at the man from the Sixth Michigan.  “I offered you twice what the shopkeepers paid you to kill Li Kang, just to be available in case I needed you. Your refusal shamed me and it has since been difficult to get the peasants to pay me what is rightfully mine.”

  Travis leaned and spit.  The brass spittoon rang.  He sat, saying nothing.

  “Tonight you will kill someone for me.  You will then return here and tell me how grateful you were to serve me.  Only then, will I decide if Sheng-Li and his daughter will survive the night.”

  Tommy smiled.  He held all the cards and enjoyed the power it gave him. “Go with Peng and Quon.  They will tell you all you need to know.  When the three of you return, I’ll know you’ve held up your end of the bargain.”  He rose and headed towards the front of the house.  “… and don’t get any ideas.  Even though you wouldn’t take my money, Franklin Moses did.  He’s upstairs with the Mins.”  Travis could hear him chuckle as his footsteps ascended the staircase.

  Travis brought his hand to his temple and rubbed as he sighed.  Franklin Moses was fast and a professional.  He had tried to bait Travis into a gunfight before but Travis declined the opportunity to test his skills.  Travis killed for purpose, unlike Moses who killed because it was his nature.  He had envisioned figuring a way out of this predicament, but Moses complicated things significantly.   He led his two bodyguards to the door.   He paused,  and waving off  his escorts he returned to the workbench.  On the side was a gift box.  On the top a card.  He opened it…

Beloved Travis,
Now you can court me properly.  Father complains, but you know how much he likes and respects you.  He also knows my feelings for you.  Pick me up tomorrow at sundown.  It is agreed that you may accompany me to the festival.   ~ Mindy

Travis placed the card delicately in his vest pocket.  He then opened the box.  Inside was a modified 1863 Starr Double Action Army Revolver.  He hefted it.  “Perfect,” was his only thought.  He loaded it and holstered it on the hip opposite his other Sheng-Li Min Masterpiece.  “I’ll need this if there’s killing to be done.”  Then he strode through the door, down the alley and into trouble.

  Peng or Quon, it didn’t really matter, told him to head to the wharf.  Travis did so; staying in the back alleys until he was sure he was far enough away from the Min’s home to misbehave.

  Travis stopped and turned towards the pair.  He looked past them and pointed.  A look of consternation growing on his face.  “Stop following us Moses!”  Peng and Quon turned and looked back down the alleyway they had come.

  Slightly amazed at his good fortune and pleased with his misdirection, Travis pulled his Starr.  It cleared leather cleanly and moved smoothly up.  Squeezing just gently enough to keep the Starr steady but strongly enough to advance the action, the pistol fired.  The young gangster on the right took the bullet in the thigh and was knocked to the ground by the .44 caliber bullet.  Now it was just a race.  The man on the left swung his Loomis around smartly but Travis’s weapon only had to track a few inches.   “Tock” was the sound Travis heard as his second shot caught his assailant in the forehead.  “Perfect” he thought again as the Loomis clattered to the ground and the body toppled backwards.

  Travis stepped over to Peng or Quon who was starting to crawl down the alley, away from the gunslinger.  He stepped on the left hand still holding the shotgun and cocked his pistol.  “Peng” I need that information now.

  “Screw your mother Gwai-Lo!”

  Travis kicked the man over.  Standing above him the pistol aimed steadily Travis spoke quietly.  “Tell me the plan Peng.”

  Peng said nothing.

  The Starr barked again.  Peng screamed his hands reaching for what remained of his knee.  “I won’t ask again Peng.  You can still live a long life with a cane.” Travis remarked in fluent Mandarin.

  Peng, it turned out was not loyal to Tommy Cho unto death.  The young thug, with Travis’ continual encouragement shared the plan.  Sunday left Peng, unconscious and bleeding in the alley.  He approached a young man walking down the street, tossed him a silver dollar and told him a man in the alley needed a doctor quickly.  Then he turned and ran to the wharf to the small saloon where he would find his friends as fast as his feet would carry him.

~ End of part one.

As related privately to Mr. Sunday, the Judge is eagerly awaiting part two of this story. It seemed prudent to give a brief recess for other players to respond . . . so far only Randy has chimed in lately, so the Judge will interject.

The Judge reminded Mr. Sunday that at least three (3) characters must be involved in an event that is heroic or particularly meaningful in order to secure the extra level of advancement offered in the Special Sauce (see OOC2 msg 937). Mr. Sunday then asked the Judge whether the three (3) characters each had to write their own part or could he write the parts of the other two (2) characters who have expressed interest in the San Francisco part of the timeline. The Judge replied that either was acceptable, but if it is the former then the two (2) characters would have to agree to what Mr. Sunday had written.

The following is Cole's extended recap. Sorry for the delay. I'm fully engaged now.

I've included JEB in my narrative. I'm open to any changes/suggestions.

To that end...

Cole 5 year history - re-write

Returning home after his most recent NBO job, Cole decides it is time for him to spend a little time with his family. During his stay back east, he sees to it that his parents and his sister have whatever money they require to meet their needs.

While staying on his parents' ranch, Cole realizes how much he enjoys the simple life of running a ranch. However, he quickly discovers that many of his old friends have come to look upon him differently. For some reason, beyond his understanding, they have come to think that Cole believes he is better than his old friends. Somehow Cole's participation in the war and his extended travels out west has been the cause of some resentment among his old buddies. More than once, in the local saloons or on the streets, Cole has found the need to beat some sense into his buds when he found himself growing tired of hearing sentences end in the word "uppity" or "cocky".

Despite his relative comfort at staying on the family ranch, after a time he finds himself looking to the horizon wondering what life is like west of Texas. It seems that life on the trail has found its way into his blood. He figures that if he is going to one day settle down and have a ranch of his own, he had best scratch this trail-life itch, sooner rather than later.

One evening while sitting on the family porch and looking at the setting sun, Cole casually enjoys a decent cigar and good whiskey. After a time, he finds himself thinking of his old trail-mate Travis and how often he spoke of San Francisco. So Cole decides that perhaps it is time for him to see for himself. Still, that would be quite a horseback ride. So, he reckons a train would do right nicely.

Since Buck is getting along in years, he decides it would be a good idea to leave him here. This here trip will be just for Bess, Jack and me, he figures. Buck has earned a rest.

So the very next day, after spending nearly a year back home, he tells his family that it is time for him to go. His family, knowing him quite well, were not surprised. Knowing that when Cole makes up his mind, there is no changing it, they simply wish him luck and will look forward to when he next returns home.

Cole travels to the nearest train station and books passage to the west coast.

Upon arriving at San Francisco, Cole figures he might as well get a job and sit a spell. He quickly finds a job overseeing a bunch of Chinese immigrants working on a rail line. Not exactly the kind of work he had in mind, but the pay was good, so he figured he would give it a shot. The man who hired Cole was a real son-of-a-bitch, but Cole is a grown man and, as has already been mentioned, the pay was good. Still, he thought it would be a good idea to see if he can get someone to watch his back. So, he figures JEB might be interested in coming west. Besides, it never hurts to have a lawman watching his back. So, he sends word to JEB to come on out, if he can manage it. He reckons his wife won't mind.

Cole soon discovers that his boss is more of a son-of-a-bitch than he had originally thought. In fact, the man was downright evil. One day the man decides that his Chinese workers are not working hard enough. He gets it into his mind that they are deliberately conspiring against him. So, the man decides he needs to make an example of a few in order to control the rest. He orders Cole to gun down a few hand-picked Chinese families, including the children. So, Cole decides that ain't right, but someone has to die. So, he shoots and kills his boss with but two words, "I resign".

Unfortunately his recently departed boss, crazy as he was, was an influential and powerful man. So Cole decides, in the ensuing chaos, to trust his fate to the trail versus the law. Cole skips town. However, before he leaves he gives a note to an old, and grateful, Chinese man. He tells the man that if a lawman named James E. Beauregard (or JEB, for short) comes looking for him asking questions, to give him the note, discretely. And, to not give it to anyone else, under any circumstances. Cole then promptly leaves San Francisco behind.

Fortunately, his crazy ex-boss, was no friend to local law enforcement. They were was much relieved as well as dismayed at the death of the man. So, although they were obliged to come calling for Cole, their heart really wasn't in it. So, Cole didn't find it too difficult to elude the local posse. Although Bess and Jack didn't appreciate the pace of travel for the first few days.

JEB, upon arriving in San Francisco, quickly discovered the story surrounding Cole's sudden departure. Being the vigilant lawman, JEB decides to ask some questions. As he is a lawman from back east, he was given a fair bit of latitude to nose around. His investigative curiosity brought him to the rail road tracks and the small community where the Chinese workers lived. While walking through a marketplace, a group of young Chinese boys comes up to him. They are begging and offering to sell him some leather goods. One of the little boys deliberately and discretely presses the note into his hand.

The letter to JEB had just three words - "Broken Hills, Nevada".

So, here is my suggestion for a storyline for Ayasha. Since it includes Travis, Randy and Yellow, please feel free to object to any part.

---

Ayasha realized she was being followed a while after she left for home, probably the ranchers looking for their horse. At least that's what she thought. One night she decided to have a look, and much to her surprise, she saw three men she knew sitting around a campfire. It was Yellow, Travis and the big man named Randy. Not wanting to surprise them and possibly make them shoot her during the night, she retreated silently. The next day she approached them openly on her "acquired" horse.

It was quite the surprise for her to find out that they had been following her to give her a horse and to see her back to her tribe savely. She didn't expect that, especially after she felt so abandoned when they headed into town without looking back. It touched her quite a bit. She gladly accepted the offer to travel to her tribe together.

During that journey, Ayasha starts teaching Cheyenne to anyone who wants to learn it (Randy did express an interest). She also tells them about her tribe, the customs and so on, so that these men do not cause any misunderstanding when they meet the tribe. She also explains to them why Yuma acted how he did, that he took the role of her father when her real father was killed. She tells them who her real father was, the great warrior chief Woqini, whom the white men know as Roman Nose.

As they were getting closer to the tribe's camp, the group came upon a farm that had been burned down. They found the settlers dead and scalped, a whole family. It looked like they were killed by Indians, arrows seemed to have killed them. While the men with her were angry and nervous, Ayasha took a closer look at the dead bodies. It was hard, especially the children. But she could not believe that anyone from her tribe would slaughter helpless children. There was no honor in that, especially since the family seemed to have been surprised while they were working in a field.

When she studied the arrows, Ayasha found something strange. There were Cheyenne arrows, but there were also arrows which carried the markings of the Blackfeet, enemies of the Cheyenne. This did make no sense at all. She showed the arrows to the men in her group, and this raised suspicions. This might not have been Indians at all.

Travis and Yellow headed for the nearest town to gather information, while Randy and Ayasha buried the family. Travis and Yellow found out that this happened before, and that one rancher in particular was furious about the "Injun attacks" on his neighbors and was demanding revenge. He also bought the land where the families had been killed. The plot thickened.

Winter was coming in, and since everyone knew that Indians would retreat to their winter camps, no further staged or not staged attacks were expected. Knowing the area, Ayasha led Randy, Travis and Yellow to the site of the winter camp of her tribe, where she was greeted with relief. Everyone thought she was as dead as the others in her hunting party. She introduced the white men as her saviours, and they were invited to stay. Ayasha reported to the chiefs about the mock attacks on the farms, and that the rancher was trying to blame that on the Cheyenne. They discussed how to avoid a war with the white men of the town. During that time, Travis, Randy and Yellow also got to know Yuma better, and their relationship improved.

The chiefs decided to send scouts to watch the ranch of the white man who was probably behind the attacks, and during a particularly warm period in March 1872 he got greedy and sent out a party of his men to burn another farm. It was too early for the Cheyenne to mount any sort of campaign, but his greed was too big. Luckily, the Cheyenne together with their white allies were able to send a warparty to intercept these men. The resulting battle was short and bloody for the ambushed ranchhands, and all but one of them perished. They had arrows with them to stick into the wounds of the settlers they wanted to kill, another proof for the plans of the rancher. Travis, Yellow and Randy went into town to present the proof to the leaders of the town, but the rancher had a good standing there, and it took a lot of convincing.

In the meantime, the Cheyenne kept watching the ranch, and they foiled another two attacks on farms during April any May. This added to the proof, and by now there were 5 prisoners who were testifying against the rancher. Finally, the town was convinced of his guilt. In June 1872 a combined force of Cheyenne and a posse from town attacked the ranch and put a stop to these actions.

Travis, Yellow and Randy left the tribe soon afterwards, to check up on their other friends. They were sent off with gifts from the tribe and the promise that they were friends of the Cheyenne now and that they would be welcome at their campfire any time. Ayasha even shed some tears when they left.

She stayed with her tribe, but times were getting tougher. Hunting buffalo became a sport for white men, and it was getting harder to find enough food to get the tribe through the next winters. So when the Comanche asked for help to fight buffalo hunters in early 1874, Ayasha's society responded. They joined up with the Comanche, Kiowa and Arapaho for a sun dance in Spring, where the shaman Isa-tai promised that warriors fighting the enemy would be victorious and immune to bullets. That promise did prove to be empty. At dawn on June 27th, 1874, the Indian alliance rode against the buffalo hunters at Adobe walls. Almost a thousand Indians against less than 30 buffalo hunters. The attack went well at first, with the Indians able to surprise and kill two men who were asleep in their wagon, but then they couldn't get into the houses of the settlement. The buffalo hunters were shooting through cracks with repeating rifles and revolvers, causing many casualties, while the Indians only managed to kill one more man who had exposed himself in a doorway. When the attack broke, they even were unable to carry all their dead and wounded away, so many had been shot close to the buildings.

Ayasha's society did suffer quite a few casualties that day, and they decided to leave, because the promise of Isa-tai was obviously false. There was no immunity to bullets and no victory. Ayasha returned to her tribe, and even though this had been a failure, her name was getting known among the tribes. When the Sioux and Northern Cheyenne started to have trouble over the Black Hills, Ayasha and her society (now replenished with fresh recruits) traveled north. Ayasha was hoping she could mediate in everyone's interest, hoping for a result similar to her tribe and the town of white men, where there had been no hostilities for years now.

But, that was not to be the case. When she was in camp at the Little Big Horn, the bluecoats attacked. Ayasha's society were among those that turned Reno away and broke his skirmish line, many brave men and women of her society perishing that day to buy time for the women and children to get away from the danger. She chased Reno and his men over the Little Big Horn, before she turned back because of more shooting in camp. Ayasha was there when Custer was finally overrun.

Crazy Horse of the Lakota was almost unstoppable after that, and during another smaller fight days later Ayasha recognized Travis among the white men. These were not soldiers, and Ayasha managed to stop the attack, even though Crazy Horse wanted to kill them all. But she herself had some authority now, being the daughter of Roman Nose and an accomplished warrior herself, and he did not want to alienate his allies, the Northern Cheyenne. So the whole group where Travis was travelling with was saved. It must have been quite a sight, first Indians rushing them, then one of them, a woman at that, stopping the charge before any bullets could be exchanged.

Ayasha then rode up to Travis, and they talked. It was clear that Crazy Horse would not be stopped, and Ayasha realized that she could not stop the hostilities here, especially since she herself got carried away during Little Big Horn. When Travis told her that he was looking to join up with Cole and JEB, Ayasha decided to join him, to see these two men again after so many years.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #45):

Thank you for including Travis.  I have no objections.  Very nice.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #46):

Sherriff James E. Beauregard spent the better part of several years vigilantly but unsuccessfully tracking the murderous James-Younger Gang for the untimely death of his protege and deputy young Owen Loman. Although Jesse James supposedly pulled the trigger, JEB knew he was responsible because he was not at his post when the Gang came calling on the local bank. Owen’s death constantly gnawed at JEB’s conscience and he vowed to bring the Gang to justice. The Gang proved elusive and during an uneventful summer JEB received an unexpected telegram from his old trail mate Cole Trayne. Cole was in San Francisco and offered JEB work, just as he had years ago with the NBO. JEB would have passed on his offer if not for two things. One, JEB was broke. Tracking the Gang had exhausted his financial resources. Two, there were rumors of a Frank James sighting in San Francisco. In fact, Frank James had been known to be especially nomadic and trek to such disparate locations as Alabama, Texas and California.   It was time to hit the trail again, so JEB took the train out west bringing Diablo along.

JEB arrived in San Francisco during the late summer and Cole was nowhere to be found. Instead, JEB found Travis Sunday – (Travis, JEB begs your indulgence in hijacking part of your narrative. Hopefully, this fits in with your plot but if not please change or veto the proposal as appropriate). It was not difficult, since an almost famous gunslinger like Travis Sunday requisitioning a custom pistol 1863 Starr Double Action Army Revolver is fairly conspicuous. JEB was on his way to the Chinese gunsmith where Travis was known to be spending a lot of his time when he saw Travis leaving with two dubious looking Chinese gangsters. Sensing trouble JEB followed in the shadows as Travis and company walked the back alleys to the wharf. Travis stopped and turned towards the pair. He looked past them and pointed, a look of consternation growing on his face. “Stop following us Moses!” Travis barked and the two turned and looked back down the alleyway they had come. Travis pulled his Starr, shot one gangster in the thigh and the other in the forehead. JEB drew his own pistol, but seeing that Travis had the situation well in hand waited a few moments. Sunday left the scene with one gangster dead and the other unconscious and bleeding in the alley. He approached JEB walking down the street towards him, tossed him a silver dollar and told his old trail mate a man in the alley needed a doctor quickly. JEB snagged the silver dollar mid-air, cracked a small smile and said, “I’ll give this to the undertaker instead.”

To be continued ....
This message was last edited by the player at 05:19, Mon 03 Oct 2011.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #47):

Travis would have been surprised, but like bad pennies his partners kept turning up at the oddest times.  Travis allowed himself a quick smile as the Tin Star was a welcome sight.  A quick tip of the hat and handshake between old friends was all he had time for.

“Follow me, there’s no time to spare for reunions.”   Travis said as he started to run for the docks.  He fished another silver dollar out of his pocket and paid another to get Peng to the sawbones.  Travis and JEB ran into the fog, their echoing footsteps the only sounds in the alleyways.
~
The throng of men had formed a circle around the combatants of Pier 16..   The sounds of cheers, laughter and betting gave the impending match much of its energy.   Whiskey and the thrill of blood sport created a lively combination which drew the working men of the docks.  For a few hours, paychecks were wagered; lost loves forgotten and the indignities of a hard life put aside.

  The shouting crescendoed as the two men toed the line.  Randy Oldman looked over to Yellow Saunders.  Yellow had finalized all the purse arrangements, placed the bets and was ready to tend to Randy should his opponent get the better of him.  Yellow nodded and yelled “Show Time.”  Randy breathed a sigh of relief.  Too often in the early days he had been cheated of his purse.

  The referee could not be heard above the din.  He didn’t need to be.  Both men knew the rules and what was expected.   The referee removed his hand from between the men, and declared “Fight!.”

~

Travis and JEB arrived at Pier 16 in time to hear the groans.  The local favorite, a massive Spaniard who had disembarked 8 months ago from a cargo ship of Portuguese origin, lay on his back dazed and unable to right himself.    Randy was engulfed by backslappers who had taken the longer odds on the cowboy.  Yellow concluded their business and the throngs began to part in preparation for the next bout.  Sawdust was poured on the bloody floor and the bull of Madrid was dragged shoulder first to the side.

Travis and JEB pushed their way through the dispersing crowd and caught Yellow’s eye.  He pointed to a stack of crates off to the side and made his way there, checking his pocket watch.  “Still enough time.” He thought.    Randy and Yellow disengaged from the last few well-wishers and local promoters and moved to the crates.
“JEB, I can’t believe it’s you” Randy said.  Yellow followed up “You are a sight for these sore eyes amigo.”  The Tin Star from Marshfield exchanged pleasantries for a few seconds, then focused on Travis.  “We’ve got a problem gentleman.” JEB said.  “Travis needs our help.”

Travis beckoned the group back from the crowd a few more paces to keep eager ears from overhearing.  Then he spoke.  “Tommy Cho is making his play tonight.” Looking at JEB who was new to the City, “Tommy is a mid-level gangster, who has always fashioned himself the future gang lord of San Francisco.“ Travis continued. "He’s planning on planting 3 people tonight.  The harbor master, the chief of the local constabulary and Eduardo Gomez.”

Yellow whistled. “ If those three are killed Tommy’s men will control the docks, his men will run the police and with Eduardo out of the picture he’ll have as good a chance as anyone to be the big boss. “

“Exactly,” said Travis.

Randy looked a bit puzzled, “If Tommy kills Eduardo no one will follow him. He won’t live through the weekend.  Murders are down and business is good for the opium traders, the smugglers and the more business oriented criminal types. Like me and Yellow in the underground fight game.”

Travis nodded.  “That’s why I’m going to kill Eduardo for Tommy.”     

Travis watched the jaws dropping on his friends faces. “What are you all thinking?  I’d never shoot for Tommy.  No. Tommy’s holding the gunsmith and his daughter hostage.  If I don’t kill Eduardo he’ll kill them.  If I do kill Eduardo, the plan is for him to kill me and who knows what he has planned for Sheng-Li and Die.”


“So what’s the play Travis?” JEB asked matter-of-factly as if he were inquiring about local church services.


“Well there’s four guns in play:  one for the harbor master, one for the chief, one to kill me when I take care of Eduardo and Moses Franklin with Tommy and the gunsmith.” Travis paused and looked at his friends, “… and I’ve got some intelligence from Tommy’s man Peng.  I I figured out how, if  we caught some breaks, we could keep San Francisco out of Tommy’s hands and save the old man and girl.”

“Well Travis,” Yellow asked, “exactly how are we going to kick this bee hive.” The men leaned in.  A few minutes of hushed tones later, they stood, shook hands, wished each other luck and left the pier, each heading in a different direction.

~

Yellow Saunders approached the harbor masters house.  The sea smelled of salt and the fog felt cool on the part of his head not covered with his 10 gallon hat.  He walked past the entrance nonchalantly.  The door was closed, no light reflected on the downstairs windows.   He continued down the docks about 40 paces, then turned behind a stack of fishing nets.  He pulled his rifle from the buckskin sheath and aligned the sight on the front door.  Good concealment.  Good field of view.  “Easy” he thought to himself, “like a grazing buffalo.”

~

JEB arrived at the theater and waited for the show to end.  Travis was to kill Senor Gomez in the street in front of the theater so there would be no doubt who the killer was.  JEB had volunteered for the job.  As a law officer he would have a chance at identifying the stalker of a stalker.  Their behavior would be different.  Where they moved, how they would interact with the crowd all these details he had trained himself over the years to spot.  He silently hoped he was up to the task.

~

Tommy’s man was easy to spot.  Randy simply followed the Chinese man who followed the policeman who left the station.  The killer was sloppy but killing a law officer would bring such pain to the local criminals that deterrent was in most cases sufficient protection.   The target simply didn’t need to be vigilant.  Ironically this meant the killer didn’t either.

~

The sound of breaking glass brought Yellow’s eyes to his sight.  No one had come to the front of the house, where they could quietly force the front door.  No they had alerted the occupant by going in a side window.  “Mule Fritters,” Yellow muttered to no one as he left his perfect blind and ran towards the house.

~

The upper crust of San Francisco’s social elite spread into the streets.   The play was well received  and smiles adorned the faces of the attendees.  Towards the end of the crowd emerged a man exactly as Travis had described.  He made his way to a carriage.  Accompanied by two armed gentleman, the reigning crime lord of San Francisco paid no attention to the man urgently looking around the crowd as the target got closer to his carriage.  “Just let him go and report to your boss. Don’t take matters into your own hand.” JEB thought.  As Mr. Gomez got closer to the safety of his carriage though, the young Chinese operative placed his hand into his pocket and moved decisively towards his target.  “Damn it,” JEB thought  as he threw himself into the crowd.

~

Randy kept his distance but when the man followed the law officer down the alley, Randy picked up his step.  He rounded the corner cautiously but there was no need.  The law officer was nowhere in sight, but the man who had been following him waited patiently.  A Bowie knife caught the light.  The man didn’t speak he just waited.  Randy straightened up.  “Show time,” he thought.

End of Part 2.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:38, Tue 11 Oct 2011.

I invite JEB, Randy and Yellow to wrap up their story lines if they care to.  It's your chance to be heroic and add your character's signature twists.  Maybe the judge will give you an extral level.

 I'll wrap Travis' and anyone else's up in the next few days.

Kudos to Travis for moving this forward. The Judge would encourage JEB, Randy and Yellow to pick up where Travis left of, or ask the man from the sixth Michigan to complete the stories. (Or state any objections to where Travis was taking the PCs, if there are any objections).

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #49):

“Damn it,” JEB thought as he threw himself into the crowd, “but perfect”.    JEB deftly moved through the crowd towards the young oriental gangster intent on killing Senor Gomez.  The killer emerged from the edge of the throng not more than a coffin’s length from the crime lord. He aimed a cocked pistol directly at the unsuspecting victim and squeezed the trigger.  JEB’s timing was flawless as he clocked the shooter in the back of the head with the butt of a Colt handgun as the pistol fired sending an errant bullet straight up in the air.  The shooter collapsed in an unconscious heap as the theatre crowd scattered in all directions.

It did not take long for Senor Gomez to be convinced.  JEB told him of Tommy Cho’s plan and the inexperienced operative confirmed JEB’s accounting by foolishly ignoring Tommy’s orders and taking matters into his own hands when Travis did not show up.  Now JEB needed to get to Travis quickly to help him take out Tommy and rescue the gunsmith and his daughter.  Gomez sent one of his bodyguards along with the Missouri lawman.  “You have my gratitude, Senor Beauregard,” Gomez said in parting as he climbed in the carriage, “and if there is anything I can do for you, do not hesitate to ask.  Sergio will tell you where to find me”.

Sergio led the way to the gunsmith shop using shortcuts known only to members of the underworld.  As they approached the shop, JEB looked for any signs of Travis but saw nothing.  The pair quietly approached the back alley door where JEB originally spotted Travis earlier that day.  The door was open.  JEB slid inside...

To be continued...

Pleased, relieved, happy aren't the right words to describe Randy's feelings upon finally meeting Ayasha.  Satisfied is perhaps the best expression.

The terms of meeting with Ayasha this time were dramatically different than any before.  She neither shot at not scoffed his presence.  No, instead she seemed, well, grateful.  Randy literally and metaphorically brushed the swear from his brow.
.::.
The next weeks seemed to pass too quickly.  She intently listened to Ayasha's instruction in her native tongue.  The big lug found it rather easy to pick up on another language since he wasn't so certain he liked his own.  Perhaps he couldn't speak the tongue perfectly, but he was certainly better understood in the native's language than his own.  Conversely, Randy found he learned of his mistakes speaking English by way of the new language.  Simply speaking, he got better.  No more did he use the wrong tenses or pluralize singular nouns.  He even dropped the all to confusing you'ns.

Unspoken as well, he learned of how misconceptions, generalizations and stereotypes cause more harm than help.  The tribe showed him ways of handling himself when others think little of him—seriously, how could anyone use little and Randy in the same sentence.  His self-esteem grew in unmeasurable ways.

Sadly, he bade farewell to the tribe.  So many warm and caring people with stories and jokes better than any he'd ever heard.  Truly, he was smitten with the Cheyenne.

Over the following years, Randy misted over when hearing of the struggles the Indians were having.  He was sad and feared for the lives of his friends.
.::.
The trip westward was difficult as they left in early spring, soon after the snow melted.  They traveled to Denver first.  The burgeoning town was full of wooden structures and tents, massive and small.

Randy was itching for a fight, or rather a bout.  Yellow proved a wonderful promoter with his easy manner and 'awe-shucks' humility.  In the gold rich town of Denver, money ran free and easy.  It seemed the prospectors thought it great sport to come into town, get liquored up and wager to fight Randy.  Ever the actor, Randy gave each a good show and made him feel the fight could go in the prospector's favor.  The big guy was done with taking dives years ago; now is the time to make money, lots and lots of it.  After a few months, the men we on High Street, as it were, and so they left.
.::.
The next months passed very slowly, it seemed to Randy.  They bounced from town to town, burg to burg and even campfire to campfire.  Eventually, in early '73, the trio end up in San Francisco.

In this seaside city, the hits kept coming.  Randy, with the guidance and support of Yellow and Travis, fought a bout about twice a week.  The money, again, was good.
.::.
Randy's wealth came with a terrible burden, however.  He spent so much time fighting, he developed chronic pain.  Often, his hands would be too swollen to hold a glass or fork.  His head and chest were bruised and bloodied on a regular basis.  He self medicated with opium.  The dragon was ever destroying his life.  Randy missed the departure of Yellow to  Texas.  The pugilist, if that monicker still applied, couldn't even remember meeting the cowboy's bride.

Travis saved Randy from the dark depths of the opium dens.  The man from the Sixth Michigan snatched up all of Randy's remaining money and force him to sober up and get clean.

By the end of 1875, Randy regained his fighting shape and stature.  He gained a small fame in the legitimate fighting circuit.  Although the big fighters were still back east, Randy got to fight in proper arenas with actual toe-lines and all with local up and comers.  His fame came from his crowd pleasing slap-stick antics

Weary from the fight racket, Randy retired in early 1876.
.::.

With the surge of testosterone Randy has during fights, his hair line has receded by a few inches.

Randy's part in the San Francisco story from Travis.  I hope he doesn't mind the embellishment.

..::..
“Really,” Randy said to the thug.  “I just beat the snot outta a big Spaniard on the docks not 15 minutes ago.”

The pugilist unbuttoned his sleeves and untucked his shirt.

The lunge of the Chinese gangster didn't surprise Randy at all.  And no one should be surprised that his shirt was torn and ruined as the big lug dodged the clumsy move.  “I don't fight for free, so you best put up the stakes.”  Randy's loose shirt made the gangster slash at body parts that weren't there.

Bob and weave; shuffle and dodge.

Randy finally threw his first punch.  He swung at the man's head and connected.  “CRAP,” Randy exclaimed—his hands hadn't yet recovered from the earlier fight.  Since he was fighting the man bare-knuckle, Randy thought better of killing him.  When each pair of punches landed, and none missed, the man weakened.  On two occasions, the gangster connected with his knife.  Randy didn't cower from the flesh wounds.

Knocking a man out is much harder than killing him.  To subdue the Asian, Randy couldn't use killing blows from his knees, elbows or feet.

After a flurry of Randy's punches, his opponent looked lazily up toward the dark, misty night sky.  Thud.  Reflexively, the proper fighter threw his hands in the air and hopped for a moment.  Then he realized that no one saw the KO.

Before Randy left, he propped the man against the closest wall.  The only two things Randy took from the Chinese gangster was his knife and pride.

Randy walked further down the alley.

September, 1871

An exhausted Artemus barely notices the flurry of activity as his friends prepare to leave. He remains in the room to get some much-needed sleep. Hearing Randy ask who’ll join him for a whisky Art mumbles into the pillow, “You can owe me one . . .” and he trails off to dreamland.

. . .

Artemus is standing back from the table waiting for dinner to be served. A wide variety of smells fill the room – turkey for sure, and venison. Sweet potatoes too. Scented lamp oil waifs in and out, probably from the bordello upstairs. Art can’t remember where the stairs are to get there, but yes, that must be the scented oil smell.

JEB is suddenly there holding a small tray with several shots of whisky in small glasses. He offers and Art accepts. The others there accept too. Tink tink is the sound as the glasses tapped against each other in a silent toast.  The taste is full with flavors of  oak and smoke.

Travis says that’s a quite cougar, gesturing with his empty glass and Chance replies, “Yeah, he just leaped through the window” and points to the fireplace where the large cat is sleeping by the fire. “He been following us since Hartville. Can’t shake the bugger.” Adding “Guess he’s a mate, now.”

Art sets his glass on the tray and takes another and another and turns to see Hattie and Ayasha come through the front door into the parlor – Hattie holding two quail by the feet and Ayash several rabbits. Smiling they hold them high. Ayasha pushes Hattie’s hat forward covering her eyes.

Bakana and Amaroo, painted for a hunt, push in between them and dart around the furniture and out through the kitchen chasing an even faster goanna. “No running in the house . . .” calls Mrs. Osterfeld the duo. Lilly shoos them out with her apron and turns towards Art and says, “ -- 

. . .

Art takes a deep breath and sits up in bed. Alone in the room, Art rubs his eyes. He touches his cheek – it’s tender – but he’s feeling rested and turns placing his feet on the floor, then stands. Gathering his things he decides to pick a few supplies before leaving town.

<continues>

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #54):


JEB entered the gunsmith’s home.  Travis  appeared  from the front of the home.  “It’s too late.  They’re dead.”

~

“What do you mean they’re dead?” Travis asked Moses as he stepped into the dark alley.   A light rain began to fall.

“The girl knew Tommy wasn’t going to let you live.”  Moses shouted at the man from the 6th Michigan who stood calmly 30 paces away.   "She got hold of a knife and stabbed him in the shoulder.  They took him to Doctor Chang.  Guess who he saw there?”

Travis exhaled slowly. He knew the answer.  He knew Moses was telling the truth and not just trying to rattle him.  “I should have killed Peng.”

“Yes.  You should have.  Tommy went crazy.  He sent me back to take care of his business.  You’ll be happy to know I charged him extra.”  Moses shifted his weight.  A flash of lightning lit Moses up.  His pistol belt was rotated forward, the Colt resting inches from his fingers.  Thunder rolled through Chinatown.

Travis didn’t respond.  He pulled his duster back exposing his Starr.  His right hand relaxed and drifted down towards his hip.

Moses strained to see Sunday’s visage.  He wanted to see something, anything that would give him an edge.  He received no satisfaction.  Sunday’s eyes were deadeyes; dolls eyes.  No hint of purpose, no indication of action.  He waited.  Sunday wasn’t known to draw first.  The longer he waited though, a worry entered his thoughts. “His people are dead and he’s not showing it.  He is entirely focused on killing me “ A slight shiver ran down his spine.  Before it turned to panic Moses went for the Colt.

A single shot echoed out of the alley and into the night.

~

In accordance with Chinese custom, the coffins were not carried directly to the cemetery but were first placed on the side of the road outside the gunsmith’s house where prayers were offered and paper was scattered. The coffins were then placed onto a hearse that started through Chinatown.  The procession moved very slowly towards the cemetery, with Sheng Li Min’s eldest son, now the finest gunsmith in California and Travis Sunday following behind with their heads touching the hearse.  It was the first time in Chinatown’s recent memory that a westerner was afforded the respect of a family member in these matters.  After the burial, Senor Gomez, dressed in black mourning attire approached Travis.  “I thank you again for the courtesy you extended me.  I will see to your request, personally.”

Shortly after Travis Sunday left town on Horse for parts unknown, Tommy Cho was abducted from his home.  There was no resistance from his gang whose loyalty had been compromised in the preceding days.  Though he was never seen again, they say his screams were heard in the wharf area for a week.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:10, Mon 17 Oct 2011.

Very very nice, Travis.  Wow.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #57):

I enjoyed Randy's tales as well.  Everyone's doing a good job I think.

By the time Artrmus made it to the street in front of the inn, he was feeling like himself again. He thought about lighting a cigar but was enjoying the crisp fresh air and so tugged up on his trousers and proceeded down the steps to the street. A bonnie lass walked by leading a horse, upon which rode a young boy. “G’day ma’am.” Said Artemus. “Tch.” She said and turned away. The Aussie tipped his hat to the boy and got a smile in return.

Down a block and two over Artemus came to small shop. The front was tidy and young woman interrupted her sweeping as Art read the sign aloud, “Dodson’s Sundries.”

“Hello mister,” she said, “Me grand can help ya with what for ya needs inside,” She added with a smile and pointed towards the open door with the handle of her broom. “Irish,” Art though, returning the smile, “Thank you.”

The inside the of Dodson’s matched the outside with shelves packed in neat rows and no space left unutilized. “How might I help ye?” asked the tidy man behind the counter. A bowler hat sat in the windowsill behind him and robust shamrock overflowed a clay pot next to it. Art apologized for not having a list, but rather rambled through his things noting what was needed. The tidy man duly noted each item Art mentioned and then began his search. “Where is that lamp oil, now?” he said to himself as looked through a sea chest in the corner. Artemus looked at a newpaper laying on the counter. Turning it around Art scanned the headlines. “Yellow Fever Raging in New Orleans.” “Quick Steamer Trips Across the Ocean.” “Conspiracy to Restore the Emperor Napoleon.” And “Meeting of the Universal Peace League in Switzerland.”

Before Art could locate the story about Yellow Fever, the Tidy Man exclaimed “Ah yes! The oil! Slippery, elusive oil!” “Would you like me to just refill your bottle?”

“That will be fine,” Art said and handing over his flask. The Tidy Man filled the flask and looking at his list said “Let’s see, coffee. . .” and turned his attention to a metal can. “Ground?” he said? “Half of it if you please.” Replied Artemus. The man moved a very small quiver from in front of the grinder and set it on the counter and added a scoop of beans to the mill. The smell of coffee beans was unmistakable as he turned the crank. He wrapped it in a small piece of tightly woven cloth and tied it with a piece of twine, and another for the beans.

Artemus was busy studying the quiver and the four arrows it contain. Clearly they were not hunting arrows. Each had a highly crafted stone point but shaft was ringed with painted markings symbolizing the four cardinal directions. Each was wrapped mid-shaft with a small patch of rabbit fur. The flights were made of brown and white striped turkey feathers. The order of the colored stripes varied amongst the four arrows, as did the color of the rabbit fur. The quiver was only about an inch and half across, sized to hold only the arrows. From the quiver hung a small tight bundle of aromatic sage. Art smelled it. “They burn the sage and use the smoke to bless the arrows or something.” Said the man. Artemus looked up, “Ceremonial,” he said. “I took it in trade from a half-breed that lives a bit north of here.” “He helps on a ranch or something. Very honest fella. Walked back here in the snow because I gave him more potatoes than he paid for.” “Anyway he didn’t have enough money last he was here and so I took that in trade. Felt sorry for him. Not sure what I’ll do with them.”

“Let’s see what else is on the list,” said the shopkeeper and gathered each item one at time and set everything in a neat row on the counter. Art continued to look around the shop and continued to be amazed at the variety.

“I think that’s everything” called the man when he had gathered the supplies. Artemus was looking a small section of shelf that held several books. Art selected two and came to the counter. “I’d also like a sack of apples, and these,” and Art set the books on the counter. The man looked at them and separated them on the counter. “The Whale. Me granddaughter couldn’t stop talking about that one.” He said. “’Bout a big fish.” “And. . . that one, well, I wouldn’t let her read that one.”

“I’ll take the quiver too.” Said Artemus. “I don’t know what to charge you. If they ‘as shootin’ arrows I guess they’d be worth about a dollar. How’s that sound?” Art nodded and the man tallied the charge and handed Art a small slip of paper. Art paid and as he packed his supplies back into saddlebags and coat pockets, the man called out of the front door, “Erin, fetch us a sack of apples from the wagon.” “Right away Grand.” She replied and ran off returning in a minute with the sack.

Within half an hour Artemus had collected Caliber. The stable boy said he had brushed him and checked his shoes and tack and everything looked good. Art tipped the lad and rode to the city limits where he collected his weapons.

Before evening Artemus had put some number of miles between him and town and he was glad to be on his own, in the wide world again. “Gone walkabout!” he called into the night.

Art adjusted his lamplight and settled against his bedroll. Reaching into his saddlebag, he pulled out one of his new books. He adjusted himself again and turned to the first page.

“Call me Ishmael.”


<continues>

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #56):

JEB only had to hear the grave tone in Travis’ voice to know he was too late.  JEB holstered the Colt revolver and spoke empathetically, “My gun is yours.  Is there anything you need me to do?”  Travis looked at JEB with dark eyes and thanked him, but added “no, this is something I need to do alone.”    JEB simply nodded, gestured to Sergio and began to leave the gunsmith shop when he remembered why he came in the first place. Turning at the door, he presented an offer to Travis, “I never got the chance to tell you, but I came to town looking for Cole. He sent me a telegraph with a tender for work. If you’re interested, I’ll leave word with Gomez where to find us. Godspeed to you.”   

During the next few days JEB accepted the hospitality and assistance of Senor Gomez in tracking Frank James and Cole Trayne. The first trail ran cold, but Gomez quickly discovered the story surrounding Cole's sudden departure and JEB’s further investigation resulted in receiving the note Cole left for him. JEB returned to Gomez to leave word for Travis and with an uneasy feeling, JEB mounted his horse and left for Broken Hills, Nevada that day.

Continued …

Autumn 1873

Artemus really owed Travis a debt of thanks for the wisdom to set up a telegraph account in San Francisco. It had been useful in his business dealings and to remain connected (to however minor a degree) with his friends and trail mates. Artemus had also written a number of letters but, as it often took longer than the time he remained in one place to receive a reply, he’d taken to using the telegraph office as his return address and as such his box could contain both telegrams and mail.

In the spring of ’73 Art received a telegram that a letter had arrived from over-seas. It was likely a reply to his letter to his mother from 18 months earlier. It was of course too long to transcribe via telegram so Art traveled west to hold his mother’s letter in his own hand.

The story of Art’s trip there is entertaining to say the least, but as a tale best told with friends over several rounds of beer it is omitted here.

***+***

JEB had long since learned to listen to his feelings, and the ill ease that he felt over the results of his investigation into Cole’s departure could best be addressed by glass of whiskey and fine cigar. And that was how he came to find himself sitting alone this evening at a table for two at “The Saloon” on Grant Street staring at glowing ember on the end of his freshly lit smoke.

It is said that when one door closes, another opens. On this night lamp light from the numerous establishment in the growing urban area gave a soft, even illumination to the street and JEB could see the private coach roll slowly down the street to a stop in front of the Saloon. From the outside it seemed to be of quality construction, drawn by four fine horses. Two well-dressed men rode atop, one driving the other – a big man of some experience JEB could tell - just watched. As the coach stopped, he stood and stepped down and still watching opened the door.

An even more finely dressed man stepped out and speaking slowly, in flawless English with a High-Spanish accent said, “Senior, I am forever in your debt. If there is ever anything you need you have only to ask.” Another man stepped out, wearing a black duster and black hat. In the dim light he seemed almost a shadow, yet he seemed somehow . . . familiar to JEB.

“Don Ferdinand, I was my honor to have been of service to you. You have a beautiful family, and you are good man. It is this that makes you rich.”

“Ah Senior! This is why I like you! You are too kind to me.” “I shall keep the Villa in the Pinot vineyard – the one on the hillside facing the sunset – unoccupied in the hopes that doing so will encourage your return.”

“It is you that are too kind, Senior. Careful, I might take you up on that offer.”

“Indeed. Then I shall keep the wine rack stocked and books on the shelf for that day.”

“Oh, I nearly forgot, this is for you.” Don Ferdinand produced a small sack.

JEB tugged on his cigar, exhaled and took a sip of whiskey. A young woman appeared with a fresh glass and JEB nodded.

“These are for drinking now.” And he placed two bottles in the sack. “And these are to be enjoyed together.” He produced a book and small bundle of cigars tied with a silk cord. “Cervantes.” He said and handed them to the man in black and extended his hand in friendship. “Thank you.”

“Good harvest, my friend,” said the man in black. Don Ferdinand nodded and climbed back into the coach. The big man closed door and climbed back up beside the driver, and coach slowly pulled away.

The not-so-stranger watched the coach go down the Street and turn right, then he climbed the stairs.

“Been staying out of bar fights?” JEB said and pulled on the cigar. There was a moment of confusion processing the question but then as recognition set in Artemus Carson broke into a broad smile. “I’ll be damned. You turn up at the strangest times.” Then his look sank. “I saw the telegram about Owen. I’m sorry.”

JEB gestured to the vacant chair, and Art sat down. The woman appeared and brought more whiskey. JEB and Art talked for next few hours updating each other on the passage of the years. JEB convinced Art to come stay with him and told him in the morning they would visit Senior Gomez. JEB said Art would like him. But the acquaintance would be short for the next morning on the way there a young Chinese boy approached JEB and handed him a small piece of paper. The lad bowed several times as he backed away. “What is it?” Art asked. “Broken Hills, Nevada,” was JEB’s reply and they continued on to meet Senior Gomez.

<...>

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #60):

Travis is aavailable, and would be delighted to be written into Broken Hills NV if so desired.

JEB was right, Art did like Mr. Gomez. As they talked, Eduardo mentioned the recent unfortunate events in China Town and name Travis Sunday came up. “I can’t leave town without payin’ my respects to Travis. Do you know where he’s stayin’?”

Rising early, Art rode out, and with surprising ease located his old mate’s flat. There was hand shaking and backslapping and the shedding of tears over loves lost.

And so it came to be that JEB, Travis and Artemus joined Eduardo for breakfast and made plans to depart that same day.

“Getting to Broken Hills from here means taking the Donner Pass. We should avoid getting snowed in up there,” said Art

“Maybe we should bring some barbeque,” Replied Travis.

As the trio was preparing to leave, Mr. Gomez approached and said “I have been brought some unsettling news this morning. The man your friend shot . . . I think the police have concluded their investigation . . . but he had friends. And some of them are seeking to do your friend harm.” “If they discover where he was headed, I feel they would pursue him.”

JEB pats his badge. “We’ll see if they’d like to tangle with the law.”

Travis nodded “If they give me the slightest provocation, well . . .” Travis trails off, but adds “Eduardo, you can always leave a message for me at the Western Union office in town.” He tips his hat.

“Senior Gomez.” Artemus says and nods to his host.

“God be with you on you travels.” Eduardo says and waves to the three riders heading east.

Having successfully settled in Broken Hills, Cole decides that it might be best if he lays low for a spell. After the little misunderstanding in San Francisco. It might not be a good idea to attract too much attention. After a few days, he decides to find a job with a local ranch. His expertise with animals and ranch work made it easy for him to find a comfortable job that would allow him to blend in with the locals. The way he sees it, if anyone comes nosing about, it is always best to have townsfolk looking out for you.

One day, while working the ranch, Mack Lawson's 9 year old son found himself face to face with a particularly bold mountain lion. As luck would have it Cole and Jack was nearby. So happens, Jack didn't appreciate the intrusion so he made it his business to harass the big cat until Cole and Bess arrived. A few well placed shots from his rifle and the cat decided she
might have better luck hunting elsewhere.


A might grateful that Cole saved his son, the ranch owner offered Cole a permanent position. But, Cole respectfully declined. Telling the man that he was just passing through.

So Cole spends his days making an honest living and his nights at the local saloon.

As the days go by, Cole finds himself wondering if JEB got his message...
This message was last edited by the player at 23:26, Sun 23 Oct 2011.

[Adult Content]

Late Autumn 1871

Bolting down the hill, shirtless, barefoot, Bowie in his left hand – a soft thic-thic-thic sound of running feet on leaves. The buck planted his hooves and darted right. Artemus leapt over the stream and swung around a sapling in continued pursuit. Thic-thic-thic-thic. Over a rock. Under a bough. Thic-thic-thic - down the length of a fallen log. Stop. Buck and Aussie eyes locked, Art could see blood spilling from a spear wound behind his right foreleg. One slow step, then another: Art closed on the deer.

It bolted up the hill but was slowing. Thic-thic-thic. Art was breathing hard; it was perhaps half a mile since the chase started. At the top of the hill the buck circled a big rock one-way, Art circled the other. They collided; Art swung the Bowie piercing between the buck’s ribs and into its heart. Art leaned his weight on the buck he held it down and in moments it died. Artemus paused for a moment of thanks and respect for the buck; that because it died he would eat tonight.

In the silence he hears – voices – shouting – coming from over the ridge. Crawling on all fours he slowly looks over the crest. He sees a cabin and a small farm. There are several men on horses and another standing in front of the cabin holding a downward pointing muzzleloader. A woman stands on the porch and boy of six or seven runs out of the cabin and attaches himself to the standing man’s leg. Another woman appears – no – a girl, perhaps 16 comes out and stands beside her mother. One of the mounted men wearing a blue hat points to the girl and says something Art couldn’t make out. The woman is shouting now, the girl steps back, partially behind her mother. Another mounted man slides over to the first and seems to order him back – he must be the boss. Yet another mounted rider draws a pistol and points it at the still yelling mother. The standing man – the father – Artemus figures, raises his rifle to the man with the pistol. A shot rings out, from a fourth rider, the father staggers back, the rifle, now pointed skyward fires at nothing. The boy lets go the father’s leg and stares at his falling form. The mother screams and runs down towards the father. Her arms are held wide and Artemus can hear her scream “WHY?”

The rider who had said something to the daughter draws his pistol and shoots the mother twice in the chest. She turns to look up to her daughter and collapses beside her husband. The boy screams and turns and starts to run towards his sister on the front porch. The horse of the closest man rears up. The rider levels his gun and shoots the boy in the back. Twice.

The girl on front porch seems to be in shock. She’s holding her hands in front of her and seems to think about going to her parents and brother, or perhaps back into the house. She’s shaking. The rider who first spoke to the daughter –Blue Hat - says something else to her, but she doesn’t respond. Now the riders seem to be arguing about something. One rider is pointing at the girl; another is shaking his head and says “No.” All the riders have pistols in hand.

The one Artemus has guessed is the leader approaches the porch and dismounts. He climbs the steps to the girl and takes her by the arm, she seems to be hyperventilating and he leads her down from the porch. He touches her hair and she refocuses on him and hits him, and screams at him, and spits at him. He backhands her across the face knocking her to the ground. There is more commotion amongst the riders. Blue Hat is speaking now, he grabs his crotch and thrusts and seems to be pointing to the other riders in turn, “Then,” he seems to say and points his gun down and seems suggest shooting.

Artemus is aghast, they debating the rape and murder of a young girl.

The leader shakes his head “No” and with that shoots her in the stomach. The girl is staggered but doesn’t fall. She clutches her stomach but slowly turns her palm up and looks at blood on her hand. She seems to plead with the boss. He takes aim and shoots her in the chest and she collapses where she stood.

Blue Hat yells something challenging the boss and he responds by angrily gesturing to the group to holster their sidearms. They do. The boss walks to his horse and unties a quiver that was attached to his saddlebag. Walking over to the bodies he draws an arrow and thrusts it into the father, then another. It looks to Art that he’s sticking the arrows into the bullet holes. Two per body, eight total. The boss throws the quiver onto the front porch and mounts his horse. He rides over to Blue Hat and Art hears the boss say “Finish this up and burn it. The rest of you are with me.” Art counts five riders heading northeast, away from the cabin.

Artemus rolls onto his back and stares up into the canopy of a large apple tree. He turns back over again.

Blue Hat dismounts and approaches the bodies; drawing his knife and scalping all four family members. He touches the girl’s chest but quickly withdraws his hand and regards the blood on it. He wipes his bloody hand on the girl’s apron and turns and walks towards the house.

Artemus sees him enter the cabin. Thic-thic-thic-thic Artemus hears his own food steps as he finds himself sprinting across the gap between the ridge and the cabin. Shirtless, barefoot, Bowie in his left hand. Thic-thic-thic-thic. He doesn’t look at the bodies as he passes by. Leaping a tree stump Art then vaults the railing and crashes through the front door releasing a rebel yell into the interior of the cabin. Blue Hat sees the shirtless and barefoot stranger with eyes full of rage crouching before him. Before Blue Hat can draw his weapon Art springs forward striking him in the groin with the Bowie and burying its full length deep into his body. Blue Hat gasps and gasps again and again. Artemus stands and slips the gun from his adversary’s holster. “Won’t be needing this,” Art says. Blue Hat drops to his knees. Art punches him in the face and he falls over on his side. Grabbing a piece of rope coiled over the back of chair near the front door Art binds the feet of the villain and throwing the rope over a beam he hauls him into the air. Looking around the tidy one room cabin Art sees a bed that must have been the parents’. A fireplace has some stew brewing; potatoes are cut on the table. Two benches flank the table and Art notices a ladder leading up to a loft with an additional bed. A basket sits by the ladder with what looks to be a partially complete dress.

Artemus picks up a wooden spoon and tastes the stew. It’s warm and good tasting home cooking. Art thinks how the family should be sitting down to eat, not laying dead in the front yard. Blue Hat gurgles. Art walks out and mounts Blue Hat’s horse. He gallops back to his campsite. Locating Caliber Art removes the saddle and tack and blanket from Blue Hat’s horse and sets him free. Art dresses and gathers his things and rides back to the cabin. It is as he left it.

Entering the cabin Art sees Blue Hat still hanging from the beam. Artemus takes a shovel full of coals and tosses them up into the loft. He takes another and tosses it on the bed. In short order two fires are spreading. Art smashes the oil lamp on the floor and exits, closing the door behind him.

It is obvious that this attack was meant to look like Indians carried it out. If only there was some way to prove it wasn’t. Then Art noticed the arrows. He wasn’t an expert on such things but they looked similar to other arrows he’d seen used by local tribes. A look of realization spread across Art’s face. It was a very long shot, but . . . Artemus thought, it could work. It was the only possible chance. Art could never pursue official channels of justice. These men would be connected. They would be know, Artemus would be the stranger in town.

He retrieved his small quiver and removed the ceremonial arrows. He unpeeled the rabbit fur from around the center of each shaft. He pulled the sage bundle from the quiver and lit it. He holds the arrows over the sage and as the smoke drifted up and around the arrows Artemus remembers prayers his own tribe would offer. “Gods of the sky and earth and of the four winds and spirits of our ancestors, please let these arrows guide these four souls to the other side and please let these arrows guide their murders to justice.”

Then he withdraws one arrow from each body and replaces it with a ceremonial arrow. Art looks at the bodies with the mixed arrows. If the investigator of this crime is observant enough, Artemus hopes, deep in his heart that it somehow will bring the villains to justice.

The fire in the cabin is starting to spread. Artemus hears Blue Hat crying out. “Time to go.” He thinks. Art places the four arrows he extracted into the quiver. He rides to the ridge and lifts the buck onto Caliber placing it over the front of the saddle. Night was beginning to fall and flames were beginning to pour from the windows of the cabin.

Art rode west late into the night and didn’t stop to camp until well after midnight.

[1874]

The trio heads northeast, uneventfully through Sacramento into the foot hills of the mountains and towards the Donner Pass. Hunting as they go, they find the countryside bountiful and are able to maintain a good pace. By the fourth day they have adequate provisions to make it all the way to Broken Hills and so are able to quicken the pace further. Also on the fourth day the group crossed paths four fellas from the Smithsonian Meteorological Society and were comforted to learn the weather was likely to hold out for them through to the other side of the mountain range.

Late on the fifth day of their trek while walking the horses with Artemus leading the way through a highland meadow and as he stepped through some low brush the Aussie disturbed three quail. Two popped up and darted north and the third to the south. In a flash of quick drawing magnificence Travis spun, stooping such that he rotated his body around the revolver and BAM - BAM he shot the heads, the HEADS mind you! off of both birds. Twisting he shot the third quail striking it in the neck. All three birds fell. Disturbed by the commotion a hare suddenly bolted! In the blink of any eye Travis holstered his first pistol while drawing the second and finishing the hare mid leap. The three men were laughing hard “Meat on the menu tonight, boys!” Said JEB. Drawing the Loomis from the saddle holster he added “Maybe there’s more.” And sure enough another quail sprang from the brush very close to JEB and headed straight for him. Leveling the Loomis JEB let both barrels go – KOOKOOOOMM. The bird vanished in a mist and cloud of feathers hung in the air. “Think ya got ‘im, pard.” Said Travis.  That evening the men enjoyed a bounty of quail and rabbit and rounded out the meal with some baked apples.

In the morning, just after starting the three located a trail heading up and began to follow it when Travis abruptly halted the group and seemed to be studying something in the dirt. “What is it?” Artemus asked. “Hmmm. Don’t like that. These tracks – horse shoe tracks – look to have Chinese characters cast into them.” “That alone isn’t a concern. But this. . .” Travis points out a particular character, “this is a symbol used by one of the harbor gangs.” Travis moves to another spot and looks even more concerned. “This symbol, I think, means we need to move along. When we get to Reno, I want to send a telegram.”

On the three went, Artemus often, but not always leading the way. He pointed out where the Donner party became trapped. Along beautiful trails, seeing fantastic vistas they continued. Travis explained that his concern was that the man Cole killed, Sebastian Love - Boss Love, to those who’s misfortune it was to work under him - had friends in low places. And if they were ahead of us then we need to move along.

Arriving in Reno in the evening, the group proceeded directly to the Western Union office and Travis sent a message to Eduardo Gomez.

EG CONFIRM IDENTITY OF POSSE LEADER STOP SUSPECT HARBOR CONNECTION STOP REPLY CARSON CITY STOP TS

Sleeping in a real bed seemed to appeal to Travis and JEB. Art would rather sleep under the stars, but tonight the group turned in early, rose early and continued on to Carson City.

Approaching the edge of town by the afternoon. Art says, “I got kin here somewhere. Town’s named for my uncle - my father’s youngest brother, Kit. Kit Carson. Haven’t seen him since I was about five though. Came though here after Lily died but he wasn’t around. Don’t seem like we’ll have time today either.” Again the group proceeded directly to the Western Union office. JEB said “I’m going to leave you to the telegram and make an inquiry on my own with the local law.” They agreed to meet up later.

“Sunday, Travis Sunday. Anything waiting for me?” Travis said. The telegraph was chattering away. Dit dit dit. Dah dah dah. One man listened and transcribed, another took the small slips and filed them. The third, a small, older man with spectacles worked with the customers.

“Let’s see,” he says as looks into grid of small bins, “yes, sir, right here. Came in about an hour ago.” He hands Travis a slip of paper:

TS CONFIRMED LI QUAN AND FOUR OTHERS STOP TWO LOCALS AND TWO CHINAMEN STOP THEY ARE LOOKING TO CATCH A TRANE STOP SUGEST CAUTION STOP EG

“Is there a reply?” Ask the old man. “Not today.” Travis says back. Turning to Artemus he adds, “Let’s find JEB.”Meeting up again Travis fills his friends in on what he knows. “Li Quan was some sort Chinese monk. Supposedly betrayed his temple, then fled to America with four other renegades. I hear he’s the man to see if you need to line up a lot of Chinese muscle. He’s expensive, but effective. And a bad hombre, if we can avoid him we should. He’s got more lives than a cat.”

JEB chimes in, “And it seems like your friend came through here yesterday. He kept a low profile but was noticed. Seems like he left out of town heading northeast which they tell me . . . is the longer way to Broken Hills.” “So we have an opportunity to get ahead of them. If we head southeast following the river to Walker Lake, then northwest through some rough into Broken Hills”

“I know the river and the lake. It can get dry but there will be water for the horses.” Says Artemus. “We should leave right away and get in a few more miles before dark.”

“One other thing,” said JEB, “the Marshall said that there was a railroad payroll moving through Nevada in a few days headed for San Fran. Marshall didn’t know about any posse for Cole, but thought they might be looking commit a robbery.”

“Maybe he heard it was a two for one special.” Said Travis and patted Horse’s nose.

“We’re lucky that it isn’t summer, the heat would probably kill the horses. As it is the nights will be cold.” Said Art. And it was indeed quite cold at night, but they built a big fire every night and made hot coffee every morning. A bit after noon the riders cleared a ridge. Travis raised his binoculars and panned around a bit. “That’s it.” He said.

Within two hours the trio found themselves at the edge of the small town. “Where should we look for him?” Asked JEB. “I don’t know,” Artemus said motioning the others to stop, “but be careful there.” And he point to the ground about ten feet ahead. “Sidewinder.”

During his stay in Broken Hills, Cole has managed to befriend the locals. After the incident with the big cat, it wasn't that hard, the rancher was very popular, as was his son.

Hoping that JEB would have recieved his message, Cole would occasionally check in with the local saloon see if a any strangers have come into town. He also figures that it wouldn't hurt to watch his back. He did, after all, kill a man and skip town in a hurry.

One day, he got word that some strangers had indeed come into town. The description of one of them seemed to match JEB. Diablo is a damn impressive horse. Any stable boy couldn't help but notice him.

Cole figures, at some point, JEB would stop by the  livery to have his horse fed and watered. So, he finds a nice discrete spot to  keep an eye on the livery. Sure enough, after a short while he spots JEB. And, to his great surprise, his old friends, Art and Travis are with him!

He approaches his old friends and says  Damn, it is good to see you boys. I see you got my message, JEB.

He then leads his friends to a private spot where they can talk.

Soon after they reach a more secure spot, his friends tell him of the  chinese men on his trail. Cole is shocked that Chinese folks would be after him. He did, after all, shoot that boss to protect their own kind. But, he reckons, money trumps loyalty more often than it should. Damn shame.

Let's bushwhack those chinamen and be done with this. I don't want them nosing around here. these are good people. I won't see them troubled.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #68):

A look of consternation crossed JEB's face.

Being a lawman, I can't rightly bushwhack anyone. But I'm inclined to think we should have a chat with those men.

Art, being a man of few words and quick action, looks slightly disappointed.

I guess that's one way to deal with them. But, I'm thinking I'd like Cole's idea.

Looking first to Art and then turning his gaze to JEB, Travis replies.

Whatever you say, Mr. Lawman.

Cole takes off his hat and rubs his head.

Well, I've been here a while. I'm know the territory pretty well. I know a good spot where we can keep an eye on the trail coming into town. As soon as we see 'em we can go have our little talk, JEB.

Jeb nods, Lead the way, Cole.

Art looks over their vantage point with an expression of approval on his face.

Nice spot, Cole.

Travis smiles.

Should only be a couple of days before those men show up, I expect. My guess is that they won't be expecting any trouble on the road, since they probably believe you will be laying low. No need for them to sneak about.

The men then buckle down and wait for Cole's pursuers.

Sure enough, after a couple of days a group of riders shows up on the trail.

Art takes out his field glasses and takes a closer look.

Yup, looks like 'em to me.

JEB mounts up. Well, let's go see.

Cole and the others mount up and they ride down to confront the newcomers.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 01:27, Fri 04 Nov 2011.

JEB leads Travis, Art and Cole down the trail to confront then approaching men. As they get within 20 feet, both groups stop.

One of the men looks straight at Cole, with a look of recognition on his face. He whispers something to his leader.

JEB smiles. I see you recognize one of the men behind me. What is your business here?

The leader shifts a bit in his saddle. There is a bounty on that man behind you.

JEB's smile vanishes. shifting his coat out of the way, he reveals his badge. Seems you are a bit late. This man is in my custody. Are we going to have a problem here?

The stranger gazes at JEB and his companions. He's worth a lot of money, to me.

JEB replies. He WAS worth a lot of money, to you. Time for you to go back the way you came.

Travis pushes his coat back, revealing his pistols.

Art does the same.

Cole calmly keeps his hands on the horn of his saddle.

After a few tense moments, the strangers turn and slowly ride away.

When the men have ridden off, Cole turns to JEB.

I don't believe those boys are going to let this one go. I believe we should put some distance between this here town and us. How does Texas sound?

So, Cole and the boys head south. Being accomplished and experienced men on the trail, they all know when they are being followed. But, no one says anything on the first day. On the evening of the second day on the trail, Cole states the obvious The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. I believe we have company following us. We need to end this.

Travis looks at JEB and shrugs his shoulder. You did give 'em a chance, they got fair warning.

Art nods. Fair is fair.

JEB reluctantly agrees... I reckon I did.

Cole and the others find a decent ambush spot in a remote ravine, leaving a clear but not overly obvious trail.

After a few hours, the strangers approach and follow the trail into the ravine.

A few moments later, shots ring out.

A short while after that, JEB, Travis, Art and Cole emerge from the ravine and continue south.

No one follows.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #73):

The following morning the small band of brothers go their separate ways. Travis and Art have other business to attend to, so they take their leave of JEB and Cole and head for parts unknown. JEB being still on the Frank James trail that picked up some life in San Francisco courtesy of Senor Gomez, marks Fort Griffin as the next area to investigate. Cole is more than willing to lay low for awhile in a new town. The journey proves uneventful as the pair ride through the adobe landscape of the Texas plains and arrive at Fort Griffin under the noonday sun.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #74):

Cole glances at his old friend as they come upon the old town.

Seems like a decent place to set a spell. Wouldn't mind a hot meal, either.