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).