In reply to Carl (msg #169):

"What, you think it's like that one Frankenstein book?" Jack asks. "I dunno...could be. That would have to be somethin' Ward would know more about, though."

Big Tom takes another drink. "Well, I knowed he were on o' the guards on them, along with Gus and Tex. Someone would've had to be in the mine with 'em, to make sure they weren't up to no funny business and to prod them along when they got uppity, but I don't know no details about that. Nate was the one scheduling the work crews, and we can't ask him now. Gus would know more, though. he were the main one doin' the jailin'."

At Carl's last pronouncement, they all silently nod their heads in agreement.

In reply to Mr. Lurch (msg #155):

"Thank you.  I will attend the meeting.  Good day" David tips his hat and leaves.

Hmmm, where would I find prospectors.  The bar of course. Fletcher heads for the nearest saloon.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #168):

"Well, I'm willin' to do what I can to help bridge the gap between you and the rest o' my friends, as I figger that's what God wants me to do. But I think you got to have a lighter touch on it, is all. So tell me what it is you'd like to see done around town, and I'll see what I can do to help."

Carl gives Jack a flat look. "..."

He nods to Tom and nods after the barkeep. "?"

Elijah liked to talk, but he liked to listen more.  Stay quiet sometimes and you can learn all kinds of interesting things about folks.  Still leaning against his chosen spot on the counter, he quietly drags out his trusty notebook and pencil again.  More notes get jotted, between drags on the cigarette.  As they comment on the War, he is sorely tempted to butt in and throw down his two-cents on lessons to be learned fromthe War.  But, not the time.  Not the place.  Now is the time to be the observer.  Ranger's right.  This fella seems to be a local willin' to stand up and try to make things better.  Maybe, jes maybe he could start a new trend...  Gotta start somewhere...

Wildcat smiles for perhaps the first time since she got here, a real smile, not her trademark smirk for bouts of black humor or sarcasm.  "You don't know much about Texas Rangers do you partner?

"But I agree with you, I am not the person to be doin' this day in, and day out.  But you are.  Blackthorn needs its native sons, so to speak, to be career law men.

"Right now though, what do I call you?"

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #175):

The man looks puzzled. "Bill...Bill McCoy. Thought I done told you my name already."

Sensing an end to the serious part of the discussion, Alijah finally decided to speak up.  Tapping again his ash to the floor, he offers a bright grin, "May I suggest, if it ain't too bold, /Deputy/ McCoy?"

In reply to Carl (msg #173):

"Oh." Jack says, suddenly staring deeply into his drink. "Oh yeah."

Tom shrugs. "Just the usual. Enough to cover any tab we might run up while he's away, plus a bit extra for the dance hall. Why?"

"Wrong.  Now you're Deputy McCoy.  That was a test, rookie."  Wildcat had this questionable joke used on her at the start of 'boot camp', as they liked to call it, only the name they'd ascribed to her at that point was far more harsh, even moreso than 'Wildcat'.

"Anyway Deputy McCoy, all kidding aside, there's one immediate errand you can attend to.  Several, actually.  That preacher, if'n he's of a denomination that blesses water, get as much as he'll bless.  We need crosses 'n crucifixes."  She reaches into her duster and pulls out that horrid thing she's been carrying this whole time that looks like a sharpened chair leg, because that's exactly what it is.  "I need these, lots of 'em, and made with proper tools.

"Ah need somebody to go to Underhill, and tell him to burn every carcass that comes through his shop once we get a pit built that can do it... and we need that pit built."

Wildcat's expression is dead serious.

Carl gets up and wanders to lean right over the bar, moving things hidden under the counter by the sounds of it. "..." Fortunately none of the lads are close enough to hear the mute's catch of breath as he does so, pain flaring through his lungs high into his throat with the pressure.

It's not long before he flourishes a bottle - opened, but well-stoppered - and mimes scrubbing tongues before setting a foot on his chair in bringing it over.
"..." He looks about seriously, and will pour for any who wish to partake, watching for the effects.

Elijah's eyes narrow just a bit at the Ranger's demands.  A long, thoughtful draw is taken off the cigarette.  His glance shifts from the Ranger, to the new Deputy, then back again to the Ranger.  Finally, he just crushes the cigarette out with finality and begins putting away his notebook, "Well, ain't gonna get done standin' around.  Who goes where, Ranger?"

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #179):

"Right."Bill says. "Y'all want me to telegraph the Pope, too? See if he can make a trip all special like?" he cracks a grin. "Should I have the boys start buildin' a really big boat while I'm at it?"

"Look, I don't know what you think is this big unholy problem here, but rumor has it we got another deadder uprisin'. Deadders ain't nothin' special. They slow, they dumb, and they go down like any critter when you shoot 'em in the head. Nothin' to get all Biblical about."

The Grand Bull Saloon is right where he left it...but there seems to be a couple of patrons blocking the entrance, enthralled in conversation...

In reply to Carl (msg #180):

The three men grin widely as Carl produces the "Good Stuff" and produce glasses, and eagerly partake.

[[OOC: How long is Carl going to be carousing here?]]

Carl waits and watches until sips are safely swallowed, smirking faintly, before settling to join them. God, that was good. It even burnt away the pain a moment, though Carl tenses not to cough. He catches gazes again when they've tasted the deep amber drug and motions out to the range with something of a frown, adding a money-rub of the fingers and nodding down at his gun. "..."

He waves vaguely, then holds up three fingers, draws one across his chest, gestures onwards, then after another sip of angel piss another finger is held up. He presses it against his nose a moment then mimes lots of swirling above his sleeve. He gets Augustus' poster out and sets it down casually, shrugging and indicating many points on his body. "..."

Carl then remembers something, gestures ranchwards again, and of the law, briefly making the child's beaky gesture of someone chatting or nagging, shrugs. "..."



[[Until Mike/Dave comes back, or is clearly not going to - he has information to pass on that way best not shared amongst the distractions of a strip club. You can skip ahead when the jail crew have their plan of action sorted (or a plan of inaction in poor CB's case) and Katy/Jake/Vinny have decided what they mean to do also. Carl won't get too drunk in the meanwhile since he doesn't want to throw up again and he's fighting the beginnings of hydrophobia]]

In reply to Bill (msg #182):

"Another deader uprising?  This has happened before?"

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #186):

"Wait, you mean the Marshal didn't mention this to ya?" Bill blinks. "I'd have thought it would've been important, since, ya know, it's why Evans was made Marshal in the first place."

He takes a drag from his cigarette. "It were about six or seven months ago. Just after a nasty storm, as I recall. We'd just had an outlaw blow into town. Maybe you heard o' him? Shanghai Reggie? Walks around with half o' his face covered? Anyhow, Nate had the idea of tryin' to collect the bounty on the Chinaman's head, so he gathered us up and we hit town. Didn't really work out, though...the Chinaman wound up duelin' Gus at sunset, and Gus got injured."

"Well, just as we were pickin' up Gus to take him to the Doc to get patched up, we heard somethin' comin' from the graveyard. Sounded like a fiddle. A crowd collected there, and lo and behold, the dead were pullin' themselves out of the ground and doin' some kind o' waltz! Strangest damn thing you ever did see, I figger. Then the dead turn and attacked the fences. Broke through in a few places, too. Well, Evans takes charge o' the situation. He wanders into the crowd o' deadders, blowin' holes in them with his fancy gun, and the rest o' the crowd followed suit with whatever they had on 'em."

"It took all night, and the Deadders got a few o' us, but we put 'em back down again. The mayor declared the whole thing a raider attack, and, well, most folk decided to just go with that, and not remember it were deadders wearin' the skins o' their loved ones. Evans was elected Marshal, and been here ever since."

In reply to Carl (msg #185):

"Right." Ned says. "We'll keep an eye out for 'em."

"Yeah, an' I think the bounty hunter gonna get a disappointment if he goin' after this fella." Jack slurs. "The Doc seems kinda attached to his pet scientist...think he's gonna offer the guy a place in that 'Enlightened Society' he runs."

Big Tom is quiet, a big ol' goofy grin on his face as the whiskey warms his soul.

In reply to Bill (msg #187):

Wildcat shakes her head.  There just was no point in maintaining a semblance of This isn't happening, it's ghost rock fever! at all any more.  This was a Class Five intelligence breach and had been for months before she ever got here.  Unless she planned on personally murdering everyone in town and the surrounding counties, there was no containing news of this having ever happened.

In a way however that was liberating.  She sighs deeply and stares into the newly christened deputy's eyes with intensity.

"Ain't you never read the Revelations?  The dead rising is quickly followed by the presence of the Devil hisself, and th' war the Devil declares against the righteous cain't end until a rain of fire from God wipes out everythin'.  Only the Devil don't just come to Blackthorn in th' Scripture, he spreads hisself out everywhere.  This is what we call a problem.

"Ah know yer used to doing yer own thing.  But ah need you to trust me on this.  The Marshall, he oughta be back in the saddle here before too long, and his orders trump mine if he tells ya different. If it makes you feel any better, myself, Interim Deputy Fuller here, and th' prisoner are riding out tomorrow to question Ward.  You might just have the whole town to yerself."

Blacthorn's self isolation had created the perfect storm for this to happen.  She doubted that it was literally the events prophesied in the Scriptures, but it was too close for comfort.

Carl snorts softly and raises his glass in mock-toast for science.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #189):

"Alright, I suppose." Bill says. "So, as Deputy, ah, Fuller asked, who goes where?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:55, Sun 05 Dec 2010.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #189):

Charging Bear, who has been quietly listening, says "That's Revelation or The Book of the Revelation to John...  there isn't an s in it Ranger."

In reply to Charging Bear (msg #192):

"There is in Texas, Deputy Bear."  Wildcat shrugs.  "Anyway it's real simple, Deputy Fuller, go give Evans his star back and tell him it's compliments of yers truly, an eat, rest up, and come back to relieve me.  Deputy McCoy, if the preacher won't listen to ya, tell him to come see me.  But until we ride out tomorrow I'm going to put you otherwise at large, someone needs to watch the streets."

Bill nods. "Right away, ma'am." he says, setting his hat back on his head. "Uh...I heard you done pinched Carl. Would it be alright if'n I said hello to him, first?"