They made a fairly orderly procession out of the old abandoned mine turned science laboratory to the area just outside, where Wilder's horse and the buckboard were waiting for them. With Caleb's help, Phelps loaded up the still unconscious but no longer bleeding Radcliffe onto the buckboard. There was room for passengers, so some of them took turns there and riding the horse, but it wasn't far and it wasn't much faster than walking since the path was more like a trail than a road.

Along the way Gabby peppered Wilder with questions, and the scientist did the best to put things in layman's terms and also to explain his actions to people who didn't seem really too much in the way of favoring them but still seemed curious. Others chimed in, whenever they could get a word in edgewise - a hard thing to do around the old miner.

In due course, they made their way back to the baggage train, and found clothes from their bags to replace the old. The passenger car was notably empty, but there was a large gathering a little bit away from the tracks towards where the engine was. Even from near the baggage car, a group of folks could easily be made out near a fairly sizable fire and if they hadn't been seen, they would be heard from the sounds of conversation and merriment that drifted over in the dark night. Enough to be the passengers, and more - with a good number of horses hitched up to some nearby trees.

The sound of a joyful dog barking pierced the night and grew closer as Clementine dashed into view and over towards Gabby.

"You got yourself a good dog there, old timer," said one of the miners as he approached the recently returned group.

"Buncha Union Blue guards showed up and some folks from the town - not too long ago. They're tryin' to see if they can do somethin' for the train. Apparently they just ride around here patrols, make sure ain't nobody messin' with their trains. Oh, and I see you got that feller back," he said, pointing to Wilder.

"Not too much trouble, then?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:21, Sun 02 Dec 2012.

"Clementine! My Darlin'!" Gabby shouts as the yellow lab leaps up and begins licking the old timer. He hugs Clementine tight and begins petting her, laughing in delight. Clementine barks at the compliment, and Gabby grins. "Sure enough!"

"Well, had a bit o' trouble, but it's all taken care of." Gabby replies to the question. "And boy, do I have a story for you folks! But afore I go jawin' about that, we all need to get to our effects. need a change o' clothes to replace what got damaged, to protect folks' modesty."

He squinted a bit in the dark, not really sure he could make out what Gabby was talking about. He seemed to notice some missing shirts and some pants, and then kinda turned sideways so he wasn't looking at them directly - instead off into the distance.

"Yeah, you know stuff can get caught on things when there's trees around, or even jagged rocks. I done lost more than one good shirt that way. That's when I started wearing the cheapest shirts I could find," he said.

"Well, actually, there's a story in all that...but I'll get to it in a bit."

"I'm sure you will. Anyway, when y'all are ready there's some food and such up at the fire and some coffee. Nothin' fancy, but it's hot. I'm sure everyone will be quite keen on hearin' whatever it is you mean to say. I'm gonna get back up there myself." With a nod to the others, he meandered his way through the dark back up towards the big fire around where the engine was and sat down talking with the others there.

From a distance, what they were saying couldn't be made out but it was generally a warm and pleasant sound of conversation that most likely had nothing to do with the walking dead or living nightmares.

Coraline was plenty thankful when they made it back to the train without incident and reached the baggage car.  She had plenty of dresses to replace the one she'd inadvertently destroyed, though still mourned the loss of the maroon one.  It was flattering color on her and draped beautifully.  When she'd had time to change in relative privacy, she'd chosen a deep forest green that brought out her soft brown eyes.  Back outside, she'd handed Randolph his duster with a soft murmur of thanks, still more than a little embarrassed that she'd had to wear it in the first place.  Though she'd done her best to hide her particular skills, she couldn't be sure what any of them had seen or how much they understood.

Daniel spent the ride back trying to talk with Wilder, to get some information about why and how he did what he did. He occasionally glance at Coraline when she wasn't looking, now that her modesty was protected, but didn't approach her on the journey.

Once they returned to the train, he went to visit Jacques, to be sure he was well, then found his way to the baggage car to retrieve his spare shirt. His one spare shirt. He hadn't thought the vigilante business would cause him to go through clothing so quickly. He considered all the ways that he might be able to deal with the problem and settled on learning how to sew.

As they get dressed, Randolph takes the opportunity for a quiet word with Gabby: "Mr. Clarke, I'd appreciate it if you didn't go into too much detail about what happened in the mine. Right now it's what we in the newspaper business call a scoop. I'm sure my publisher would be glad to come across with a modest emolument -- a payment of, say, twenty-five dollars, maybe even fifty."

He turns to the other men as he ties his cravat, raising his voice, "In fact, Marshalls, Alex, it might be best if we soft pedal the walking dead and poor Bob's nature. It might make it less likely that Radcliffe or even Wilder will get lynched.

"We can just explain that it was a nest of ordinary bandidos that we cleared out. Men who derailed the train intent on abducting Mr. Wilder and robbing the passengers. Even Bob was just a freakishly large fellow."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:46, Sun 02 Dec 2012.

Gabby pulls out his spare pair of jeans and slips them on, then turns to Randolph and arcs an eyebrow. "What!? You think the rest o' the folks on the train were blind or somethin'? Or maybe stupid? These things weren't no banditos. Not even close. You think the Union Blue workers won't have done what we did, and poked about the place a bit? You think the townsfolk might not recognize some o' them bodies as loved ones Radcliffe made get up and dance around? You think poor Miss Linkous didn't get a real good up-and-personal look at the stitched-up remains o' Zachary Hanover trying to carry her away for a fate most dire?"

"People are already talkin', Mr. Darlin'. They're already scairt. A dose o' the truth will do 'em good, and I ain't gonna censor myself to protect your byline. I'm gonna give them folks what they need to hear--the God's honest truth, told in such a way that they won't rightly believe it, but will know, deep in their hearts, that it's safe now, and all is right in the world."

He glares at Randolph. "You want to protect your scoop, then I suggest you get yer pen out and start writin'. The only place gonna believe ya is the Epitaph, I expect, but at least you'll know the truth is out there. And shame on you, sir. Shame on you."

Randolph raises his hands in a placating manner, a blush stealing up his neck, "I meant no offense, Mr. Clarke, just trying to prevent a panic. If you think it will make people feel better thinking their departed were tricked up into puppets sent to do the will of another man, then you go right ahead and tell them. I hope you don't end up getting two men lynched with your reckless tale.

"Then again, perhaps the Marshalls can convince you otherwise."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:30, Sun 02 Dec 2012.

"Well," he said, scratching his scruffy chin, "I suppose you both do have a point. People saw what they saw and are gonna figure what they figure, I guess. As for my part, if anybody asks me I'm probably gonna just say that it's somethin' I'd rather not talk about."

He gestured towards where the others seem to be gathered. "It sounds like those folks are tryin' to forget what happened, and there's the point about them tryin' to string up Mr. Wilder here, and maybe take Radcliffe too 'fore he can meet justice in front of a court." He shrugged, seeming content to have said his piece.

Morgan had remained silent through the trip, his only words given right after Radcliffe was loaded onto the buckboard, sincerely thanking everyone that had been willing to venture to the mine with him and Phelps. Morgan knew none of them had been obliged to help. They'd all come freely, willing to risk their lives for another.

As he walked back to the train, Morgan's attention had alternated between Gabby's questioning of Wilder and his own contemplation of the evening's events. Parts of it still did not seem real. The dead men that walked, the hand that was Wilder's pet, the giant that was once Zachary Hanover, and the way that he, and much of their clothing, had abruptly unraveled. None of it seemed real. Yet he had lived through it all.

After he'd retrieved a fresh pair of jeans, he'd visited the miners and other passengers that had remained behind. He was thankful for their welcome and the hot meal they had prepared. Even their conversation about things that were mundane and of little consequence was a comfort.

When he'd rejoined Phelps he caught the conversation between Gabby and Darling. When Phelps spoke up, he felt obliged to do so as well.

"Gentlemen, my main priority at the moment is seeing Radcliffe safely to custody in Dodge. I understand Mr. Darling's concern about lynch mobs. I'd prefer not to have to contend with anyone trying to dispense their own brand of justice where Radcliffe is concerned. My opinion, he needs to answer for what he's done in a court of law. And I'd hate to see anyone coming after Mr. Wilder, even if I'm inclined to question the wisdom of his research."

"Gabby, you know me well enough to know I would never tell you to lie. I'm not going to now. But I will ask you to give me time to get Radcliffe safely in jail. Once he's behind bars, I'll leave the rest to your good judgment. I don't really know Mr. Darling, but I'm obliged to him for his help today, just as I'm obliged to you. I'm inclined to believe he's an honest man who will write an honest story, and I'll continue to think that until he proves me wrong. I hope the two of you can work out something amicable between you."

"I've never been one to talk much about the men I bring in, unless I have to give testimony in court. Radcliffe's no different in that regard."

Gabby scratches his beard. "I don't want no trouble fallin' on Wilder, to be sure, but as fer Radcliffe...he done these folks wrong. Very wrong. And frankly, these folk deserve to know about it. He stole their loved ones from out the ground and made 'em dance around and try to kill folk. That's seven kinds o' wrong. If one o' them folk goes to bury the bodies o' the deaders we put down, and finds a fellow they knew was among them, they'll want answers. They deserve to hear about it right here, right now, rather than read all about it in the paper later. They deserve to know the bastard's been caught, and is goin' to pay fer his crimes."

He looks at Marshal Phelps. "What are you gonna tell Zachery's folks about what happened to him, Marshal? Do you want them wonderin' what happened to their poor boy all the rest o' their days?"

"Widow Hanover is an old woman, and her condition is somewhat frail. It's gonna be hard enough telling her that Zachary died. But I think it might kill 'er if'n I told her the whole truth of it. I plan to tell her that Zachary was murdered and that his killer was apprehended and is currently being escorted to Dodge City by a United States Marshal. That's all I got the heart in me to say. If she wants details, I'll figure somethin out at the time."

"Gabby, I understand you wanting these folks to know about their loved ones. Kinsley's not a long ride from Dodge. Little over two hours at a good clip. If Marshal Phelps is good with it, as soon as we have Radcliffe locked up, I'll ride to Kinsley with you so you can tell those folks the story. I'll let 'em know what's happened to Radcliffe, so they can hear it straight from the source.'

Gabby considers this.

"Hmmm...I suppose I can't argue with that. Just as long as we tell the folk in the train what went down, too. Mrs. Linkous especially...she needs to know that she's safe, and that the monster Radcliffe made o' poor Zachery won't be comin' after her no more."

Truth be told, he wasn't especially eager to "ride a good clip" anywhere, given his past with horses, but some things were worth being saddle sore for.

"If you two want to make a trip back to Kinsley later, you'd be more than welcome to do so. In fact, I'd gladly welcome any of you to Kinsley if you happen to pass through. I'm certainly appreciative of all your assistance tonight in apprehending Radcliffe," he said.

"As far as what to tell the others up ahead, I haven't figured that much out yet. I plan to keep quiet as much as I can. Maybe there's a middle path between tellin' everybody as much as Gabby seems to want to do, and the more reserved path that Marshal Morgan and Mr. Darling here advocate."

Wilder looked nervously at Gabby, and began to fidget with the corners of his sleeves.

"Marshal Phelps...Can I give you my statement now? I'd like to leave while I still have a chance to do so. I'm afraid that by the time you get to that crowd up ahead, any casual association of mine with Radcliffe will be seen as a black mark against me and my life will be forfeit. If it's all the same to you, I'll give it to you here."

"Once yer all dressed, why don't y'all mosey on up there? I'll talk to Wilder over here, and then send 'im on 'is way. Say your goodbyes, Wilder." He withdrew a small and rumpled notepad from his jacket, with a small pencil to go with it.

Wilder cleared his throat, and looked at all of those who had given him aid tonight. "Thank you all for saving my life, from the bottom of my heart. I wish I could say that perhaps our paths might cross again, but I'll be lucky to make it alive to...wherever I'm going."

Once he's dressed, Darling waits for Coraline to make her appearance before approaching the group gathered around the fire. He takes a sip from his flask and hails the conductor as he passes, "When do you think the locomotive will be repaired or replaced and the tracks set to rights so the train can continue to Dodge City? What I mean is, should I wait? Or should I get a ride to Kinsley and see about renting a buggy from the livery there?"

Daniel wandered back to where the others had gathered after changing clothes and checking on his horse. He caught the end of what his uncle had been saying. "Puttin' folks minds at ease should be high on our list. Course once uncle Gabby starts on talkin he ain't libel to stop afore the train done fixed. Now I think these folk on the train already saw them dedders. We can tell 'em there were more and they won't be bothered by 'em no more. The how's and whys of Radcliffe's sins don't necessarily need ta be told ta everyone right here and now. Mebbe it will help with the healin' later though. I c'n ride with ya ta help with yer story later, uncle. Right now I'll be happy if we get everyone that's still alive into Dodge that way. That is my top priority right now. The livin'."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:16, Tue 04 Dec 2012.

Over by the fire the conductor accepted the flask gratefully, and took a swig before passing it back. "Well, the bad news is that the engine is in pretty bad shape. It'll probably take us a while yet to get 'er repaired. The good news is the brakeman is back, and they brought back a couple buckboards with 'em - so there's no sense in worryin' about it or waitin' too long. Of course, if you gotta horse you can just ride yourself. They were gonna just go back to Kinsley just outta goodness, but them Union Blue folks showed up and said the railroad'd pay 'em if they'd take y'all to Dodge." He gestured over to the group of armed men in the uniform of Union Blue railroad, one that looked superficially similar to the Union's wartime uniform though it was markedly different to anyone that had actually fought in the war. The men themselves had a tough, grizzled look to them that lent to the impression that they might have been soldiers themselves once upon a time.

In reply to The Marshal (msg # 24):

"Well, that's certainly fine news. Saves my publisher a wad of money, hey?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:59, Wed 05 Dec 2012.

Gabby considers Danial's words. "I reckon I can leave out a few o' the more nasty details fer the moment." He waddles out to the gathered folk. "Howdy!"

Daniel considered the Union folk for a few hearbeats, then returned his attention to his uncle and nodded at his response. He patted the man on the back and then followed him. Gabby's stories were not to be missed, even if you knew the outcome.

The conductor nodded at Randolph, and then got up and dusted his hands off to get back to checking on the progress of the train. As Gabby walked up to greet them, the assembled folk all greeted him warmly, and complimented him on Clementine, who had stayed with them while the others had gone down to the mine.

From the crowd of Union Blue guards that were talking amongst themselves a few feet away, one of them wandered up to the fire. There seemed to be a permanent scowl etched upon his face, and a pained look layered on top of it. He was well groomed and his uniform well appointed with marks of rank and didn't have the look of a drunkard, but the smell of whiskey clung to him like a second skin. "Goddamn fuckin' coward rebels. I can't believe they can do this shit," he said to nobody in particular.

"You know what they did this time?" he asked, though he didn't wait for anybody to answer. "Went down over to Hays, and killed damn near everybody. Man, women and children too. Just cause it leaned Union."

Morgan's instinct was to saddle up as quickly as possible. Badly wounded or not, he knew he would feel far less edgy once Radcliffe was locked up. Just as he'd started to check on his own horse, he overheard the Union Blue guard speak up, the hair on the back of his neck standing up when the man spoke about rebels.

Approaching the fire, Morgan kept his voice calm and level as he asked, "I hadn't heard about what happened in Hays. A lot of people murdered there, you say?"

Coraline joined the group along with the others, greeting the passengers in a friendly manner, though her thoughts were still on her magic and what the others had witnessed.  Near the fire, she pulled on her gloves against the cold and started buttoning up her coat.  The swearing caught her attention.  "When was this?" she asked the soldiers, gravitating to them naturally.

The guard blinked as he saw Coraline, and tipped his hat, saying "Ma'am," before answering them.

"If you ever heard 'bout what happened in Lawrence back in 63, it was like that but worse. Back then they just killed the menfolk, but this time they got women and children too. Some stragglers made it into Dodge - a woman and a couple kids. They think that was all as was left, though maybe more'll turn up," he said.

He lowered his voice a bit, so that only those that were standing near the fire would hear. "It happened maybe a week ago, and it was just like what happened in Colby three weeks before that with the hangin' and the scalpin' and some o' the bastards tyin' the scalps to their saddlehorns. Ain't that some sick shit? We've been callin' them the Night Riders though don't nobody know who they really are, 'sides a buncha coward ass Rebs."

"Supposedly Bob's Boys are comin' down to Kinsley to keep it good for a while, and the Unionizers are supposed to be pullin' into Dodge soon enough," he said reassuringly.

When the guard spoke of Lawrence, Morgan's mind flooded with memories, images of that terrible day when Quantrill and his men descended on the town, of himself, only a teen, carrying his wounded brother out of the burning ruins, the rest of his family lost to him.

Whoever these Night Riders were, it was his duty to hunt them.

Morgan extended his hand to Phelps. "Marshal, it's been an honor riding with you. The good people of Kinsley are fortunate to have you serving them. If I can ever be of help to you, just send word to me."

He quickly addressed the rest of the group. "Ms. Hawthorne, Mr. Darling, Daniel, Gabby. I can't thank you enough. Marshal Phelps and I could never have captured Radcliffe on our own. I'lll always be obliged to each of you for your help."

He addressed the guard again. "Sir, I need to get my prisoner to Dodge this evening. It's vital that I get with the law there and assist them in insuring that town is well defended. If you could find a few volunteers to ride with me, I'd be appreciative."

Morgan made his way to the car where his mount was to check the horse and his gear before riding. The fact that the Unionizers were headed to Dodge gave him a bit of comfort. Someone in their ranks would remember him. Perhaps there would be some there that he had fought alongside. They would know of these Night Riders and could help him find their trail.

After Phelps took Wilder's statement and saw the scientist on his way, he meandered over to the fire to join the others. Returning Caleb's firm handshake, he nodded and said simply, "The same to you, Marshal Morgan."

"And who might you be?" asked the guard curiously. There wasn't any rudeness in his voice, but not yet having made the acquaintance of the lawman he was curious about who might be escorting prisoners and asking for riders.

"He's a U.S. Marshal, that's who he is," added Phelps.

The railway guard's eyebrows lifted a bit at that, and he seemed to involuntarily straighten his posture a bit. "Pleasure to meet you, Marshal. Unfortunately I can't spare any men to ride escort with you, as we've gotta keep ridin' the line here. We already missed this attack over here - something we coulda stopped if we'd been here for it. Don't want to miss any others."

"I don't think you have to worry about Dodge gettin' hit. They're only goin' for the really small pro-Union towns, and Dodge is split down the middle and bleedin' like a busted lip. Who's the prisoner you got?"

Gabby, who'd been nearby and bristling a little at the bluebellies badmouthing Confederate forces, spoke up before Caleb could answer.

"This here prisoner is a mad scientist. The one who was actually behind the attack here, not no phantom Confederates." He says. "Damn Yanks. Always so quick to blame any damn thing on the brave men o' the CSA...Why, I reckon if you'd been here, you'd be as dead as them other folks. That or hidin' in the bushes cryin' and soilin' yerselves."

Here we go again, thought Daniel to himself before jumping into the conversation.

"My uncle brings up a couple o' interstin' points, fellas.  Yah said nobody knows who it be, these Night Riders. How d'ya know they's from the CSA?" Daniel wasn't asking his question with scorn in his voice, but rather natural curiosity.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:41, Wed 05 Dec 2012.

Neither Jenny nor Darrel had much to say on the subject, and not many of the railroad employees were still around but a couple but those that were there weren't keen on commenting to the topic. Bill and Joe took right to it, though - especially after Gabby and Daniel had already voiced their thoughts.

"Yeah, how y'all know it was Confederates as did it?" one of them asked, right on top of the other whose words got lost in the mix.

The grizzled old railroad guard looked consideringly at the old man and his nephew for a moment. The man looked a little younger than Gabby did, but was probably somewhere around the same age. He looked as tough as aged leather, and nothing of him had gone to fat even in his older years, maintaining the tough carriage of a soldier. He briefly considered launching into a long history lecture, which he was fond of, but thought better of it. "We fought pretty bitter since the mid fifties 'bout whether we'd be free, or keep slaves here in Kansas. I don't mean arguments, I mean bloodshed. We ended up joinin' as a free state in '61, and then the war broke out so now I guess we're just here. The bad blood didn't go away, though. But that's all neither here nor there."

He spat, and continued talking. "These days, Kansas is pretty split up. Some towns is an even split, like Dodge. Then there's some town that lean Union, some that lean Reb. In the last two months, there's been three towns butchered almost to the last man, woman and child - all Union towns. There's Rebel leanin' towns within thirty miles of each of 'em, but they ain't seen so much as a drop o' that bloodshed. And I wish 'em well for it. I don't mean anybody should go get them some payback. That shit just ain't right."

"Anyway, I ain't sayin' its your brave confederate soldiers as is doin' these things. Truth to tell, I used to wear the blue, but since I left I've met some folks that mighta faced me down on the field wearin' grey that were good, honorable folks, 'cept for being rebels. But I don't know how else you wanna explain it. Maybe you got some fancy tale - vampires that're only hungry for the blood o' folks as never owned slaves?"

Daniel listened patiently to the response. The end confused him a tad, so he furrowed his brow, "Ya jest said that its Rebs been doin it without no proof. Not even a shady eyewitness or nuthin. Yer flappin' yer gums in a way gonna get someone killed. You may not think payback is right but it comes into yer head anyhow. Folk with a lesser conscience might decide to go do somethin' uncalled fer. I unnerstand yer upset, but don't go makin such accusation without no sorta investigation. If frontier folk are bein' harmed, I'd be the first to stand by yer side ta help it not happen no more. But the way yer goin on about it jest ain't right."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:10, Thu 06 Dec 2012.

"Ain't more than five in a hundred Southerners ever owned a slave, sir." Gabby says, not completely mollified. "And that ain't what the war's about anyhow, except to you Yanks, or have ya'll forgotten we done freed them back in '65? I reckon you all think Jesse James waves the Stars n' Bars, too. Whoever these Night Riders are, they ain't nothin' more than low-down snake cunts usin' the war to justify their bloody business. I surely hope you find 'em, but they's aberrations."

Unlike many Southerners, Jesse James and his gang weren't heroes to Gabby, and he'd heard all about Quantrill's raids since he'd started living in Kansas. He couldn't being himself to approve of either species of varmint. But he wasn't about to let this Yankee lay blame on all the brave boys in grey just on account of a few bad apples.

He bristled at the tone taken to him by the young man, as did the other Union Blue guards at his back. A quiet murmur rose among the group, and they moved their group ever so slightly closer to the gathering around the campfire as if they were expecting trouble, but nothing more came of it.

The officer stared at Daniel for a long moment, his fists clenched and looking on the edge of an explosion, but he didn't yell. He listened to Gabby talking, and it seemed to take some of the edge off. When he had words, they came out quietly, full of vitriol and bitterness and despondency. "Don't take a tone with me, boy or tell me what to say. You don't know shit, and you don't understand shit. My wife and mother both lived in Colby where the same thing happened, and I'm not gonna see either o' them ever again. My brother died in Lawrence, and both my sons died in the war. So before you talk about gums flappin' you better watch your own or find somebody to watch them for you. You think it's all just a big coincidence, you might wanna go talk to the woman and the kids as made it back to Dodge. Go on, ask 'em if maybe everybody in Hays dropped dead of their own accord, or maybe you can ask the three o' them if they did it. But really what you need to do is wait till you're old enough to have a wife and kids of your own. I hope to God that you're all spared what's happened to me. For now leave the talkin' to your elders and go play with your toys. This feller here has ten times the sense you do," he said, pointing to Gabby, and turned his back on the young barber.

He gave the old man a nod. "It's not all about the war, and you're right about them bein' abberations. Morgan's Marauders and Henley's Hellions jack up Union Blue trains, and shoot it out with the Unionizers and Bob's Boys who'd do the same if Dixie Rails rolled through here no doubt, but that's just fightin'. Pointless fightin' maybe, but plain fightin' nonetheless. I went to Colby to bury my wife and my mother. If you were in my place - if it'd been three Rebel towns slaughtered one after the next, and you'd had to do the same, I doubt you'd be comin' over here in defense of the boys in blue."

"I believe you." Gabby says. "At least, I believe you seen some horrible things done to folk you care about, and I can see how you'd jump to blamin' the CSA. For what it's worth, I might be a bit quick to judge, too, were I in your shoes. People do horrible things in war, and I hope to god that's all it is, but we just got done puttin' down a mad scientist and his abominations against all that's decent and holy in the world, and I done seen all manner o' strange shit out in California after the Quake. There are monsters out there, and they don't always wear blue an' grey. What exactly did the folk who got away say they saw? Tell me everythin', even the stuff you might not believe."

"There's only one thing I haven't told you yet, cause it's ridiculous. Everything else is just what I said. Everyone that's made it out so far said it's real cold when it attacks. Like the temperature drops or somethin'. I figure cause it's only at night they attack, and that's when it get a little chilly. That's how they tell it though. Gets cold, then they ride down on their horses with a blood curdlin' yell. That's when the killin' would start," he said.

Daniel thought he had been fairly even-handed, just tellin' the fellow not to make unsubstantiated claims. But Daniel wasn't the most tactful person, and he had a pretty substantial temper. Two things that didn't mix terribly well. In truth, he ought to let his elders do the talking. Only he couldn't always do that.

Just about now he started to get a bit hot under the collar. "Listen, old-timer, I unnerstan' plenty. I unnerstan' that men on both sides've lost folk they care 'bout. Buryin' yer family ain't somethin' any man should have to do. But I'll take whatsoever tone I like with ya' if yer gonna haul off an start makin' claims like that 'gainst anyone. It's shit like that riles folk up to go doin' wrong stuff. Yer damn right if it been confederate towns I'd say the same thing. Too many people jump ta conclusions an' then decide they gonna do somethin' 'bout it. Usually somethin' stupid. I will be talkin' ta those folk when we get ta Dodge. An if I ever get my hands on whoever thought killin' a bunch o' innocent folk is a good idea, I'll pop his head off with my bare hands if I gotta. I don't care if he, she, or it is wearing gray, blue, pink, or orange. You got me?"

Gabby rests a hand on Danial's shoulder. "Danny...calm down." He says. "Ain't no cause to get riled here." He considers the man's words. "Get's cold...hmmm. Did they describe what the killers looked like?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:52, Thu 06 Dec 2012.

Having already turned his back on the youth, he didn't so much as turn around at the diatribe. With his belt knife, he cut the cigar he had and leaned down to get it lit in the fire. Standing up, he spat and took a puff on the cigar.

"It was all at night, and the only survivors were children and womenfolk, and you know how hysterical they can get - especially somethin' as truly frightenin' as a massacre like this. I mean, to be fair it was dark. There's a young girl named Grace - Grace Ackerman I think - who was pretty lucid about the whole thing though. You should talk to her when you get to Dodge - she'll prolly give you the best account of it all. Father Iglesias is seein' to her. You can prolly find him at the Union church, and if not whoever's there can probably tell you where to find him. Everybody who's anybody in Dodge knows the man."

He gestured toward his horse that was tied up a few feet away. "I've gotta go make sure no more trains get attacked if I can, like I was sayin' earlier. I've been standin' here jawin' too long." After looking like he was thinking about something for a minute, he extended a hand to Gabby.

"Have a safe trip over there."

"Ackerman." Morgan said the name slowly, committing it to memory. He knew where the church was. He'd ridden past it many times during his visits to Dodge.

As they were his friends, Morgan felt obliged to address Gabby and Daniel in the wake of the guard's comments. "I know you two understand how high emotions can run when it comes to the War. Mine do sometimes as well. But the fact is, I've known a lot of honorable men who fought on both sides. Decent men that were fighting for their families and their homes. Truth is, both sides have produced their share of monsters, too."

He looked at the ground. "I lived in Lawrence when Quantrill's men came. I was young. Not quite a man. Lost everyone but my younger brother. I don't hold any grudge against the men that fought for the Confederacy. But Quantrill, Bill Anderson, those men. They were a different kind. They thrived on blood and destruction. And I've worked hard to see those that survived the war brought to justice."

"The way those people were killed in Hays. Scalped. That was Quantrill's way. Dodge may be plenty safe, but I still mean to get there fast. I want to talk to this girl. Find out what she knows, and get on the trail of these killers."

Daniel nodded at Morgan as he came by in the wake of the Union man's departure. "Sure do understand, Caleb. And you know I don't stand with anyone that acts like that sorta monster. An' I'm sorry to hear about yer folks, Caleb. Startin' ta feel lucky that muh own family ain't seen nothing like that yet."

He paused briefly and his eyes hardened, "I aim ta help folk out here who ain't got no way to protect themselves, or need a hand doin' it. Paw got in scrapes with men from both sides o' the war. Don't matter what color a man wears, if he done wrong, he should hang. If he done right, we should 'preciate him. Jock is champin' at the bit ta get outta that railcar, so he'll be up fer some hard ridin' when we're ready ta go."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:42, Thu 06 Dec 2012.

During the sometimes heated exchange about Kansas and war politics, most of the folks around the campfire had quietly peeled away gradually and made their way back to the baggage train to retrieve their belongings and had gone about loading them onto the wagons. One of the wagon drivers wandered over to the fire.

"Any o' y'all ridin' with us? We're about to head out soon," he said, looking from face to face. "There's space on the wagons for a few more, and a bit more baggage, though the conductor said a couple o' yall got horses. Be good to ride together if yer headin to Dodge. Safety in numbers and all."

"Marshal Morgan, who is going to drive your prisoner to Dodge City? I can sit a horse, if there's one to spare, but I expect Miss Hawthorne would be more comfortable riding on a seat. And, of course, a buckboard would be handy for transporting our trunks, if there's room."

He lowered his voice and took a step closer to the lawman: "When you ride down to Hays, I'd be pleased if you'll consider me for your posse. Quantrill may be dead, but there still seem to be plenty of reivers like him in these parts."

"Well, Radcliffe's already tied up in his buckboard, so you might as well take that. I can't ride over to Dodge with you. I got my people to see too over here - but if any of y'all can drive a team that might work. Or I could show somebody how. It ain't too hard. I guess there ain't that much that could go wrong." He sounded doubtful about giving a crash course, as he pictured these folks with a toppled buckboard with luggage covered in mud and an escaped horse.

"I can drive the buckboard." Gabby says. "Had to learn to drive a team to earn my keep out to California in '49. And I reckon I'd like to be able to keep an eye on Radcliffe. anyone plan to ride with me?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:48, Thu 06 Dec 2012.

Coraline sighed heavily, feeling the fatigue of the day and their recent fight. "I wouldn't mind riding in the wagon, so long as I have a blanket against the cold."  She looked wearily back toward the train. "We'd better collect our things and get them loaded up, else we'll be left behind."

Daniel turned toward Coraline, "I'd be happy ta carry yer things an' get 'em loaded up, ma'am. Jus' lemme know what's yers an' I'll see to it. I gotta bedroll ya can cover yerself with if ya don' have a blanket of yer own."

He clapped Caleb on the shoulder, and then got up onto his horse that he had lead up there. "I know you folks are gettin' in late and probably gonna need a place to stay. I don't know if y'all have been there before, but I can recommend the Dodge House. The doors lock and it seems they actually change the sheets. Thus allowing for both privacy and the freedom from wondering what slept in the room before you. I don't know about you, but I prefer my rest to be uninterrupted. Fella that owns the place is kin to me, Jake Phelps. He'll give you a good rate if you mention we worked together. Used to do some lawin' himself, back in the day, so he takes kindly to that."

The Kinsley marshal looked over at the buckboard. "Where you gonna keep him overnight?"

Morgan nodded at Darling's request. "I'd be proud to have you come along, Mr. Darling. Brave men like you are hard to find."

Morgan smiled at Phelps. "I'll have Daniel check his dressings before everyone retires and chain him to a bedpost, if that's what it comes to," Morgan tells him. "But I doubt it will. There'll be someone associated with the local law I'll be able to wake up. We'll get him in a cell before dawn."

Tipping his hat to Phelps, Morgan set off to retrieve his horse. Leading the animal back to the buckboard, he climbed into the saddle. Looking to Clarke, he asked, "You ready to set out, Gabby?"

"I need to hitch Bessie to the buckboard...can't leave her behind." Gabby says, heading over to the livestock car.

He returns, tugging at the reigns of a very stubborn mule. "Come on, Bessie..." He cajoles. "We done gotta be goin' now."

"That's very kind of you, Mister d'Alex.  Let me show you where my trunks are located.  I'm sure a strong man like yourself will have little trouble moving them."  She smiled at Phelps as she passed.  "Thank you for your assistance, Marshal, and the information about the boarding house.  I detest sleeping in filth."  Heading back to the train, she followed the other passengers to the baggage car.

Randolph recovers his duster from Coraline with a tip of his hat. He gives the brakeman two bits to carry his trunk from the baggage car to the wagon and lash it tightly, stowing his Gladstone bag beside it (with his Gatling pistol inside). Once Coraline's luggage is aboard, Randolph clambers over the tailboard and perches atop his trunk, holding tightly to the lashing.

Daniel gave Randolph a slightly suprised look, "Coulda carried yer stuff too, Mister Darlin'." With a shrug he checked how well fastened everything was. He took a couple of minutes to check the dressings on the prisoner and then went to retrieve Jacque from where he had been impatiently waiting in the railcar.

The chestnut stallion shook his head from side-to-side as Daniel led him toward where his uncle was hitching the mule to the buckboard. He climbed atop Jacques in a few easy movements. He gave a nod to his uncle, "Ready whenever ya are, Uncle."

Gabby collects his gear, his mule, and his faithful dog, and gets settled in the driver's seat after tying his mule to the side.

Clementine hops up into the Buckboard and sits by Radcliffe, snarling gently.

"Right!" He says, taking up the reigns.

A couple hours past midnight, the small caravan of buckboards and horses made its way to Dodge City, carrying most of the passengers that had been scheduled to arrive earlier that night by way of the Union Blue railroad. They had followed the railroad tracks on their way in to avoid getting lost in the dark, and to take the most direct route, and the journey was far less problematic than the one by train had been. Late at night, the town seemed to be fairly dead, though as they pulled up by the Railroad Depot, some light spilled out from the shutters of the Occident Saloon across the street and the sounds of merriment, intoxication and some drunken singing drifted out into the night.

Radcliffe had come to not long before their arrival, but bound and gagged as he had been left, his contribution to the remainder of the evening had been marginal. Clutching a letter given them by the Union Blue guards, one of the Kinsley men that had driven the other wagons wandered up to the doors of the depot and knocked to collect the remainder of the payment promised for the drop.

"Well, I suppose it's time to find somewhere to sleep," Jenny said, approaching the others. As had been amply evidenced on the way over here, the press of the evening's events combined with the late hour had been insufficient to quell the loquacious nature of Jenny Lynn Linkous.

"I just thought I should thank you all one more time for not letting that man take me out of the train earlier. That would have been most unfortunate indeed. Where are you all staying? How long are you going to be in town? I suppose till whenever they can get the next train in, which I guess depends on how long it takes them to fix up the one we were just on. I really hope my next train ride doesn't go as badly as that one did."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:21, Tue 11 Dec 2012.

"Well, ma'am, you don't have to worry none about the big fella." Gabby says. "He ain't gonna be gettin' up again 'til Judgement Day, and the fella that turned him all crazified is gonna be stuck in jail fer the rest o' his days." He absently kicks Radcliffe in his wounded leg. "Unless they decide to hang him, which wouldn't bother me none."

He yawns a bit, no doubt thanks to the lateness of the hour, but like Mrs. Linkous his own chatterbox was still wound up. "I reckon me an' Danial will be around town a couple days...I suspect I'd like to take a gander at that sitiation in Hays, if Marshal Morgan needs a deputy or two when he heads out that way. Eventually we'll have to move on, though...Californey's still a long, long ways off."

"We passed that Dodge House place on the way over here. I think I'm going to go see about a room. I overheard Marshal Phelps mention that they've got clean rooms over there, or something like that. I think that's the kind of place I need to stay. Well, maybe I'll see you folks around town. Who knows, maybe we'll even be on the same train once you all are ready to leave this place! Unless you're staying in which case probably not, but it would be lovely to have some familiar faces around whenever it's time for me to leave to Denver. Well, anyhow...thanks again, and goodnight!"

With that, Jenny went to make her goodbyes to the miners and the card player, before making her way down the street towards the Dodge House.

"I'm going to ride a little further into town," Morgan told Gabby. "See if I can find someone to help us get Radcliffe in a cell."

The weariness of the eventful day had settled on Morgan. Sleep would be welcome, but not until his prisoner was secure. Morgan urged his mount forward toward the heart of the city, in search of assistance.

Gabby nods. "Sounds good. I'll wait here and watch him, then find a place to stay once we get him settled."

He tips his hat to Mrs. Linkous. "Well, ma'am, it was a pleasure makin' your acquaintance, and I surely do hope our paths cross again."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:34, Tue 11 Dec 2012.

Daniel frowned momentarily. "Marshal Phelps said the Dodge House'd be a good one fer us as well. Somethin' bout Jake Phelps ownin' the place and bein' kin ta him. If ya think ya can watch the one-leg prisner without me I c'n walk with Missus Linkous an see 'bout gettin' us all some rooms." He waited to see if Gabby was amenable to such and if the others had anything to say.

From his perch on his trunk overlooking the prisoner, Randolph says, "Mr. d'Alex, I would be greatly obliged if you would get a room for me and one for Miss Hawthorne." He digs a ten-dollar gold eagle from his pocket and hands it down to Daniel.

"Cora, perhaps you would want to walk down to the hotel with Mr. d'Alex and Mrs. Linkous. Mr. Clarke and I will be along with the luggage once we've seen to the jugging of Radcliffe here. There's no point in you sitting here in the chill. It's been an exhausting night."

In reply to Daniel d'Alex (msg # 66):

Gabby nods. "That sounds good, and I thank you, Mr. Darlin', fer helpin' me watch him."

Coraline nodded at Randolph's suggestion.  "Yes, I think I will head for the boarding house and see about obtaining rooms."  It had been a very long, uncomfortable night and she was more than ready for a good night's sleep.  Sidling up to Daniel, she slid her arm in his.  "You don't mind me walking with you, do you Mister d'Alex?"

Daniel smiled broadly at Coraline, "I'd be delighted if ya did, ma'am." His arm naturally moved up slightly so that she could curl hers about the crook of his elbow, while his other hand grasped Jacque's reins.  "Hope ya don't mind walkin' with Jock as well. He gots ta get a place, too."

He took a few steps, his pace slow enough to match whatever Coraline found comfortable, "Mebbe ya could tell me a bit 'bout yerself an' where yer from while we walk. I dunno hardly nuthin 'bout ya, 'cept yer good at cards. Speakin' o' which, are ya lookin' fer a game here in Dodge? I c'n stop by the barbershop tamorra an' see if there's any good game in town. People'r always chattin' with their barber. They don'tell 'em everythin', but they tell 'em somethin'." It sounded more profound in his head than it did after it passed through this lips. He shrugged and peered at Coraline's face to see if she would respond or just laugh at him. He tried his level best to ignore Jacque whickering over Daniel's other shoulder.

She smiled at Daniel as they strolled toward the boarding house, not at all bothered by the pace he set.  "Oh, I am always up for a card game, Mister d'Alex."  Her voice dropped a fraction.  "And I don't mind visiting less than reputable establishments to find one.  If you hear of anything interesting happening, do let me know."

"I'm from New York, though have visited Europe a time or two.  My father has passed, but my mother still lives in New York City.  Exactly what else would you like to know about me?  I'm sure my life is fairly uneventful up to this point by comparison.  It sounds as if your and your uncle have traveled around quite a bit."

When Bessie whinnies at Jock down the street, Darling says, "That's a mighty fine mule, you got, Mr. Clarke. I never knew an animal so patient. Trudging all that way from the train and a water trough just down the block, she's got to be thirsty, but she's not even tugging at her lead.

"Yep, mighty fine mule."

Gabby gives Danial a faint smile as he and Cora walk off arm in arm. "Good on you, boy." He says quietly, and slips into a fond remembrance of a long-ago romance of his own.

His revere is broken by Randolph's Comment. "Huh?" If there was one thing folks didn't normally call Bessie, it was "patient." Mighty fine perhaps, but patience wasn't high on Bessie's virtues. It did seem like there was a faint tug there, come to think of it, but Gabby searched his soul a little and found he did not trust Mr. Darling. Not enough that he wanted to leave Mr. Darling alone with the prisoner, at any rate.

"I reckon you're right about that. Say, you wanna lead her to the trough? I reckon I can watch Radcliffe long enough by my lonesome. I doubt he'd get very far."

Randolph smiled faintly at the coot. "Never been much good with animals, myself. I'd probably spook her somehow and you'd have to chase her across the prairie.

"I'm glad to keep a close eye on this desperado though, while you take care of her needs. Yessir, mighty fine animal. Deserves good treatment."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:21, Thu 13 Dec 2012.

"I thought as much." Gabby says. "You all ain't as slick as you like to think ya are, Mr. Darling, and I reckon I don't feel inclined to mosey away and let you do whatever it is you were plannin' to do while my back was turned."

"Suit yourself, Mr. Clarke. I think that's the Marshall coming back with the local law."