Travis Sunday lead his pards south on the main thoroughfare. They had passed the places they had come to know over these several days: Hatfield's, the bakery, the jail and Chen's--with a pair of hunters occupying Garrett Rasmin's post in front of the laundry--and the saloons at the corner of Griffin and Fourth.

The five men, who would count a half-dozen while momentarily passing the jail where Cole was incarcerated, had departed the Beehive shortly after Randy Oldman arrived. Fob watches showed nine-twenty when the men left the relative comfort of the saloon, fastening their coats, pulling hats down low and turning up collars against the cold.

Fortunately, the icy wind is at their backs as they travel south. Sunday continues, passing the hide-yard and the Occidental. Then the post office and the telegraph office. Now leaving the kerosene-lamplit thoroughfare, the gunslinger continues a course similar to the one he took yesterday morning, south towards the ridge and away from the town and the farms and ranches--and the Fort atop the hill--surrounding The Flat. The waning moon provides enough light to navigate.

Sunday walks until satisfied of two things: that the men have reached a place where they can jaw without being overheard, and that they haven't been followed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:44, Wed 19 Feb 2014.

Cole Trayne reads the various notices and advertisements on page 3. He goes slow to enunciate and to stretch the time. The paper is a respite from boredom, if nothing else.

He reads of mundane events such as church bake sales--both the AME and the First Baptist--town hall meetings, cattle association meetings, hearings and the like. Kate makes a comment about Grandma Dedmon's sweet cakes.

The wrangler reads of births and deaths and other announcements. One child was born on one of farms, and of course he recognizes the names of the dead.

He recites the goings-on at the Fort: reports of the departing officers, new command structures and change in units.

He reads the brief mentions of horse races and base ball. There is a brief mention of the possibility of a traveling roadshow stopping in The Flat this summer.

Cole and Kate make small talk throughout. She seems relaxed, having changed from her cross-legged position to a curled-up seat in the corner of the cell, pressed against the bars shared between their cells and the wall with the gates.

The wrangler finds his eyes getting tired, having read nearly three-quarters of this edition of the Echo. He has been reading for some time. Catching a glimpse of Kate yawning, he finds himself unable to stifle his own now.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg # 1):

"ENS," starts Randy, "Miss Soledad Sanchez wants to join you for breakfast at the Planters tomorrow morn. I don't says you needs to look the barber's clerk, but best be refined when about her. That's not just for polites, now, but for me s'well."

Swinging his attention to the rest of the men, Mr. Big'un proclaims, "if'n any more ladies wants to pass note or messages on to any more of you'un fellers, then get 'em you're ownselfs." His laugh causes a plume of breath-steam to form about his head.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg # 3):

After Randy's declaration, ENS rubs his chin.

I wonder what she wants? But don't worry Randy, I shall make you proud! Did she mention a specific time?

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg # 2):

Cole stops reading and glances up at Kate.

Reckon we could both use a break.

With a hint of mirth in his voice, he adds..

Hopefully, the stories are making you tired, and not the sound of my voice.

The wrangler then heads for his bunk.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg # 2):

First things first.  Thank you for joining me out here in the cold.

Second, I want to be upfront in case some of you wish to excuse yourselves.  Our friend is in prison and I am awaiting trial.  Neither of these situations will "work out for the best."  I may catch a break with a jury of my peers but my attorney thinks it would be great if I were to go away for a couple of years in a plea bargain.  That's not going to happen, if I have anything to say about it... and since I'm not in the hoosegow I do.

So the conversation about to happen may, and by may I mean will, lead to a discussion of a felonious nature. Should things continue on the path that we're on, then simply being here tonight may result in a conspiracy charge.  I recommend anyone who wants to keep their hands and criminal records clean take their leave now, with my sincere and honest thanks for coming this far.   I only ask you keep the last minute where I discussed intentions private.

Travis waits for anyone to leave.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg # 5):

Indian Kate drags herself to the bunk, situating herself as she was before, perpendicular to the length of the bunk and huddled in at the end of it.

Closing her eyes, she says "I like the sound of your voice."

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg # 6):

I'm not a lawman anymore. You may proceed.

In reply to Indian Kate (msg # 7):

The wrangler slightly inclines his head.

Goodnight ma'am.

With a mild look of distaste at his current accommodations, Cole shrugs and reclines on his less than clean Bunk.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg # 6):

Jake had the collar of his coat pulled up against the wind, and his hat pulled low over his eyes. It was mighty cold, but he could remember it being lots worse than this in the army, when he often went without shoes after the first year of the war, and had only his threadbare cotton uniform to hold off the winter's chill.

He smiled a thin little smile in response to Travis's plain talk. "I been a rebel most of my live-long days, an' I don't see that changin' now."

Glancing over at Travis, he continued, "I don't see a thing wrong with what you did. 'Twas a straight-up, honest fight, with each man havin' the chance to win out over the other. I'm right glad you won, an' the other feller didn't."

"Now, I don't know as much about Cole's sit-u-aeshunn, 'cause I warn't thaere. But he strikes me as a straight-up feller, an' I trust y'all's judgment 'bout him, as well."

"So, then . . . I reckon I'll go as far as I can to side with you boys, includin' most likely doin' some a' them fee-lonious things. Then again, thaere's some lines I won't cross, an' I won't know whether you'll be crossin' 'em 'til I hear what's bein' proe-posed."

"If I'm in after I hear what's what, then it's easy. If'n ye're proe-posin' things I cain't abide, why then I'll jest up an' walk away an' keep my mouth shut about it. Reckon it's up to y'all as to whether you want me to stay an' listen in, not knowin' whether I'll ride with you or not 'til I hear what's proe-posed."


OOC: Edited to correct spelling error.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:18, Fri 21 Feb 2014.

In reply to Jake Richardson (msg # 10):

ENS had been both shivering and sadly pondering Travis' statement... when Jake spoke he listened closely and nodded at the end.

Jake, you are a wise man...

Gentlemen, I am in agreement with Jake about Travis, Cole and the situation, but I fear my tolerance for illegalities is somewhat lower than his. I am not worried about "conspiracy" charges for tonight since I'm sure none of you would tie me in if I decided to leave at some point. Likewise, I will keep to myself anything said in confidence.

I'd like to provide a more moderate viewpoint as you plan; but if the plan ends up in illegal activity, I will have to bow out. I'll let you decide if you'd rather that I go now.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:42, Fri 21 Feb 2014.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg # 11):

So be it.

Rasmin has been appealed to morally and financially, then warned and also threatened.  He hasn't budged. So he has made his choice as far as I'm concerned.  The law here is stupid but not malevolent.  I'd like to avoid killing them.

So do we break Cole out of jail; take him from Rasmin or deal with things in San Francisco?

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg # 12):

"Travis, I see eye-to-eye with ENS over there--I wanna see what we can do before kickin' up dust. You fellers know what'll happen if that happens, too. Let's not forget how we all felt when we lost the funny talker." Randy doesn't crack a smile.

"Now, you know I don't got lines I don't mind crossin', but I gotta know fer sure when I cross 'em on purpose. And just so you knows, you knows I'll cross any line with you."

Turning his attention to specifics, Randy continues with certain ideas he has. "We gots a small bit of time to work with Cole, right? Cain't somebody like Rojas get in write the Frisco mayor or California gubner to free up his case? Some of us can even head on to Frisco ahead of the business to try and get it handled.

"Cole would be safe with that rascal, if'n he headed back to Frisco. It wouldn't be no posh carriage ride, but he'd make it there safe 'nuff.

Now, Randy concludes with addressing Travis' issue. "And, far as you goes, you sure you got to the end of all that with that Caudell feller? I mean, maybe you can get something less like Vickers did--that boy looks like he'll get a whoopin' and that's 'bout all.

Rojas would know if Caudell could be bought, I figgurs."

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg # 13):

Well they want to give me 20 or a noose but are offering 2 years.  I declined but would do a few months for the sake of everybody.

I could go to trial but would probably need to fight my way out if they didn't see things my way.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg # 14):

If it comes to Cole going to San Francisco, at least some of us should escort... how likely is it that Rasmin is using the bounty to get Cole alone in order to collect on a paid killing instead? Is there any way we could determine that? Maybe that Selman fellow would know?

And as far as Travis's case, can we get a feel for how a jury might likely decide? Randy's idea of seeing if Caudell is amenable to a bribe is definitely worth looking into as well.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg # 12):

In dealing with Cole's situation, the first and last option puts us in the public eye. Rescuing Cole out on the plains would keep our activities away from legal scrutiny. The disadvantage is although I'm a decent enough tracker we may lose his trail. There are less uncertainties with a jail break. That would be my choice. And Travis, you will not spend one minute inside of a courtroom or jail cell if I or my Schofield have anything to say about it.

Jake's expression turned to a scowl when Randy spoke of Weasel just receiving a "whoopin'" as a punishment for his part in the dust-up out at their camp, and for trying to steal Ghost. The ex-Wells Fargo man had not heard this news, and it did not sit well with him.

He made no comment as the other men discussed the various options. He reckoned that they needed to decide how they thought that they could best deal with Travis's and Cole's situations, then he would make his own decision.

In reply to Jake Richardson (msg # 17):

Tell me about Vickers.  What's going on with him?

In reply to Jake Richardson (msg # 17):

"I don't see no harm in making diff'rent plans, but we gots to be sure the right plan is hatched." Randy speaks up.

"Firstly JEB, cain't we agree to try to get word to California first on Cole's account? Don't we need Cole's word on the matter? At least, we can start that whilst we plans out some high plains adventure." He is demonstrative to the man of which he is silently most concerned.

"Next, there's some chances for diversions about town. We all needs to do our best to pull all our knowin's into the hat for everybody to ruminate." Mr. Big'un removes his hat while his makes this point. He taps the head band before returning the Stetson to his oversize noggin.

"As for me--and I knows you fellers know how I'm gonna go through with this--Uncle Billy is sparkin' up a Queensbury fight here in town. If'n all goes well, we can get a good draw and pull a Fort Worth; without the killin'." The once-winningest pugilist boxes the wind. Next, he throws a couple of punches toward Travis, who puts up his hands to intercept. The crack of the perfect placement sounds like thunderclaps. The shootist shakes his reddened hands from the sting.

"And, boys, if we do plan to make it off the plains ahead of any ole soul, we gotta play our cards right. We need extra horses, supplies, allies, and hole-ups. We don't got no straight-flush to win that hand. We need Aces and Kings up our sleeves." Randy tugs at his coat sleeves. "Sorry JEB, we need to hear where they is comin' from! And where we is goin'."

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg # 18):

Jake shook his head in response to Travis's question. "'Cordin' to what Randy's sayin', he's bein' let down mighty easy. But this is the first I've heard of it. I don't know nuthin' more about it than you do."

The rifleman reflected a moment, then added, "Shore don't seem to square with the way they're comin' down on you like a load of bricks, does it? I mean, if'n they're lookin' to lighten up on a man like him, they shore as hell oughta lighten up on you, too."

In reply to Jake Richardson (msg # 20):

I agree Jake, there does seem to be a disparity of justice between these cases; perhaps it should be brought up with Senor Rojas.

Also, Randy makes a good point... do you know what resources will be thrown at you for a blatant illegality like a breakout? Could troops from the fort get involved?

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg # 21):

I suppose the Army may get involved.  Randy, you said we could pull a Fort Worth?  What's that pull a jail break while everyone's at the boxing match?

In reply to Jake Richardson (msg # 20):

Handing the Fort Griffin Echo--which was tucked in his coat pocket--to Jake, Randy says, "read all about it."

Turning attention to Travis' query, the pugilist recalls the night in Fort Worth. "Somptin' like that, Travis. I mean to say, we gots a fight comin' up, a horse race, and who knows what else. There's bound to be a fire at the church or the cathouse just about any time now. Damned if there weren't likely to be a fire at the church durin' the horse race--shite happens."