Outside the saloon, a crowd had been gathering and hot words soon turned to shouting, and looked to turn into something else. In the din of the crowd, the bullet like sound that came from the raven perched on the establishment's sign that hung outside the door was all but lost. Those closest by gave the bird a strange look, but even they seemed more interested in what was going on between the men in the middle of the circle. Down the street, Daniel and Clementine had followed a trail of tracks into the street where they were lost in the sight and smells of a well traveled area.

By the time Caleb walked out of the saloon, he saw that the crowd seemed to be yelling about a fight that was going on. A burly man was physically laying into a younger man in the middle of the road.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:18, Wed 06 Mar 2013.

At that moment, the man who was clearly winning the fight looked down at the man who now lay on the ground, lifted up his leg and brought it down hard on the man's arm, causing a sickening crunch.

The young man laying there helplessly at his attacker's feet in the middle of the crowd cried out in pain.

With a single motion, Morgan drew his peacemaker and fired it once in the air.

Keeping the weapon in hand, he addressed the gathering. "My name is Deputy Marshal Morgan, and I would appreciate it if everyone would calm down and stop what they're doing. NOW."

He glanced down at the young man on the ground. The crack he had heard told him that the man was likely badly hurt and would need a doctor's help, but Morgan knew that he needed to be certain the crowd was settled first before he could assist him.

"Would anyone like to tell me exactly what's going on out here?"

Following the fight as it brawled out beside the saloon, Korpi hopped to the end of her perch and tried being louder, Clemya style:
"WOOF! WOOF WAF WAF WOUF WOOF WOOF!"

Morgan's shot caused the raven to crouch, startled. Seeing who it was, she tried to pretend she hadn't jumped at all, whetting her beak casually against the sign.

"Zhliev diaboli," she told him, in a voice like someone striking lead plates together at the bottom of a crypt.

Morgan's gunshot in the air caused the crowd to part, making way for him to approach the group. Ralph backed away from the man he had been beating.

Just as that happens, from the other side, another gun cried out into the night. The crowd parted again and a man walked out into the space that opened up around him. He holstered his smokewagon, though a few of the men around him had their hands nearby their weapons, as if waiting for a chance to draw.

"Now, leave that man be, deputy. He was just defendin' himself from that troublemakin' nigger there. We were just mindin' our own business havin' a drink and that boy comes in and starts callin' us names, sayin' things about our mothers as ain't proper. So we figure we oughta defend our good names." He glared at everyone standing around, and then at Caleb.

Korpi's hackles rose, reading threat in the raggedy iron devil's stance. Silent now, she flew up to the next building and began working across the roof above the level of the street lighting to get behind the man, black on black.

The drunk stumbled through the crowd, and into the clearing, seemingly oblivious to what had been going on. He grabbed Walter’s broken arm and quickly set it. When Walter’s scream of agony died out, the drunk stood back up and muttered, "broken arm, needed setting," speaking in his usual aristocratic Carolinian accent. He then drew himself up to his full height and began to walk away with the deliberate, oversteady steps of a man who's had too much liquor. He came up to Morgan as if to say something, but ended up just releasing a loud belch, and grinned like a canary-eating cat.

It wasn't the first time that Morgan had been confronted with an angry crowd, the lone voice of the law amongst a growing rabble. But this was likely, in his estimation, the worst. Dodge was a powderkeg of lingering hostilities, wounds that had opened up long before the War that stubbornly refused to heal. Morgan immediately understood that one wrong word, one misinterpreted action could inspire violence. Above all, Morgan wanted to avoid bloodshed.

When the man had fired his weapon, Morgan's immediate instinct was to shoot, momentarily presuming he was being attacked. He had his gun trained on the man in an instant, but was thankful that the presence of the crowd made him hesitate when he saw the impulsive fool holster the pistol. The Marshal made no such concession, keeping his own firearm in his hand.

Glancing up, he noticed Korpi flutter into the shadows behind the newcomer as he spoke. "Well, I'm not completely alone," he thought gratefully.

Morgan did his utmost to remain expressionless, despite the flash of anger he felt over the man's racist remark. Even before the man had finished talking, the Marshal felt his spirit sink. Stubbornness filled every word the man had said. The kind of stubbornness that could lead to a tragic outcome. Morgan felt certain that anything he said would likely fall on deaf ears.

But he was the law. And the law didn't always get to choose its battles.

"I'm certain you believe this man was only acting in self defense, " Morgan said, his voice calm, "But from what I just witnessed, it didn't appear so. When I approached, I saw him strike this other fellow when he was already on the ground and helpless, and from the sound of it, he broke some of his bones."

"Of course, I may not know all of the facts. I'm more than willing to listen to anything that anyone here saw that might help us figure out what the truth is. If this man is truly innocent, he needn't fear telling his story to a Judge."

When the drunk approached, Morgan nodded silently at his report, hoping that the man's inebriation hadn't prevented him from setting the arm properly.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:36, Thu 07 Mar 2013.

Clementine was frustrated. She'd been able to pick up a scent, down behind the saloon with the broken glass, then followed it east behind the buildings, then south around a building that smelled of ink and paper. Then the scent rached a big road, and got lost in all the other scents. She tried to pick it up again...but it was lost.

She looked at Danial, and whimpered. She was trying to be a good dog! Really she was!

"He's a liar!" called out an old woman. During the daytime, she had been seen by most of these folks holding up signs about temperance, and shook her head sadly at the drunk. She walked right up to Caleb, and pointed to Jake.

"This man is telling lies. That young man, the negro, was just strolling along and minding his own business and they came and accosted him! When he refused the fight him, all this nonsense here started." She pointed to Ralphie and to the fallen Walter.

"You callin' my brother a liar, old lady? You know what I think? You're the liar!" he said, shoving the little old lady backward.

The old lady flew backward at the push from the muscular man, knocking into the drunk, and tried to get a handhold on him to steady herself but ended up falling into the horse trough, and taking him with her.

The tension in the crowd seemed to break a little as a general laughter started in the crowd at the comical sight. The old woman and the drunk got up slowly after being drenched in water. But it didn't take long for the tension to come back.

"It's her word against ours, deputy," he said, pulling his hand down near his pistol grip. "What's it gonna be?"

The raven picked out the most common noise the angry iron devils were making and joined in: a voice sang out from high in the shadows behind Jake. A voice like the deadly crack of a snow-laden branch, knowing no human pity.

"Liar."

The Marshal returned his gun to its holster.

"I'm afraid that I'm inclined to take you and your brother in," Morgan said, taking three long strides directly toward Jake Simpkins, his eyes locked on the man, "And let a Judge hear what he, you, that young man he was beating on, and this lady have to say. If you've done nothing wrong, I'm sure the Judge will release you both. Otherwise, you're both going to spend some time in jail."

Today, just as every day, Morgan had held it in. There had been struggles. The terrors visited on Hays. The horrendous murder. Even Darling implying he didn't give a damn about helping the girl. Through it all he had stayed calm. In the long years since that night in Missouri he had learned to remain focused, steady, level headed. Very simply, he had no choice.

But now, confronted with the Simpkins brothers and their eagerness for violence, surrounded by an uneasy crowd of innocents, Morgan did what he rarely allowed.

He let it slip.

Standing two steps away, he let Jake Simpkins have a glimpse of what he really was.

Morgan spoke, his voice deep, almost unearthly. "Or we can settle it here. And you and your brother will die. You'll die right where you stand."

"Which do you want?"

Unsure what was going on or where the others were, the shaman dealt with what he could hear and see, loping across the open space to circle in nearer to Morgan. Those at the crowd's edge that did not recoil in confusion from the wild white hair and the young man beneath were gently pushed aside with his hilt.

A confrontation seemed to be in progress, but Sky Dog was distracted by a detail closer to him, moving to her side after giving the big thug nearby some seconds of warning glare not to draw on Morgan, tapping the metal of the star at his throat with the butt of his knife. Colour was back in the shaman's cheeks.
"You are very wet, grandmother! How is it your people do not help you? If you are not near your house, perhaps you will go into Dog Eye's building, yes? He will allow me to make chai there, I think."

Although his words were soft and concerned, the tension in his frame did not let up; nor was his attention entirely diverted from the nearer thug whilst Morgan faced down the leader.

Jake drew his hand away from his pistol and took a step back, staring back at the Marshal. His eyes were wide, and a look of panic spread across his features, an eagerness to be anywhere but here.

Morgan let his hand fall back to his peacemaker. He was thankful when he saw Sky Dog providing help to the old woman. Keeping his eyes on Jake Simpkins, he said, "Sky Dog, I need your help. We're going to need to walk this gentleman and his brother over to the Town Marshal's office. Would you take his pistol from him?"

Still gazing at Jake, Morgan asked, "Would you like to tell your brother to come with us? Or do you think he's inclined to give us some trouble?"

Wyatt Earp strolled onto the tense scene, and seeing that Caleb already seemed to have Jake well in hand, he walked towards Ralphie. He looked down at the young man that lay beaten, and back up to Ralphie. "I don't have time to referee your little boxing match bullshit, Ralphie. There's been a murder here."

At the word 'murder' Ralphie's face blanched. "He ain't dead, Deputy, I didn't kill 'im. He's jus' bleedin', that's all." He began to take a step back.

Earp sneered at him. "Beatin' on smaller folks suits you well, Ralphie, but I don't think you've got the balls to tangle with the types of folks that'd require murder to put down. And you better not grow 'em either, not while I'm in charge. I don't pull my sidearm lightly, but if you make me pull, I'll put you down. I was talkin' about another murder, up in the saloon over here. Now, I think everybody here's had enough for tonight. I think you best take a walk and let us get to some real lawin'"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:52, Fri 08 Mar 2013.

The shaman frowned deeper as he realised there was a possibly-murdered dark man in dark clothes on the dark ground, but moved swiftly, his path taking him behind Ralphie, herding, to Jake's right side, where he reached to remove the gun. His glance to Morgan was a little questioning, not liking to leave the elder to freeze or the questionably alive man to bleed, but trusting the lawman to know how to deal with it.

"Sky Dog," he said, gesturing to the native. "Come on' over here. Let's let these folks mosey on outta here. They're gonna be real good. At least, tonight they are."

"Come on, y'all. I think we better take the Wilderness Riders somewhere else tonight. It's gettin' a little hot out here," said Jake. The group of men with him pulled Ralphie along, and following Jake, they began to walk on down the street, away from the tavern.

"The little boy Mr. Darling just sent my way just got there and I figured we could get to see this murder scene. Thanks for breaking up that fight and handling the Simpkins brothers for me, Marshal," he said to Caleb, though he was watching Walter get up to his feet.

Korpi swooped in to land on Morgan's hat. "Korp."

Sky Dog stepped out of the way and made no comment on the wisdom or want of justice, watching the men retreat with a poise like a dog seeing wolves take to the treeline. Moments later he handed the captured pistol to Morgan and crouched at the dark man's side. "You are awake, mister?"

A warm glance to the elder suggested the offer of tea still stood, if she wished to take it. To the lawmen, he commented: "I have not looked at the cutting on the dead man. I asked the window what form had passed through - it was big like a man, but not so big as Dalix - then there was shooting, so I came here. The others they went somewhere inside where they hear nothing, I think...but I only put salt at the thresholds: it is not much ward, if the killing-thing returns for the body. I am sorry."

"I heard the gunfire as well, though I was already on my way at the news of the murder. It looks like Mr. Morgan here was able to stop things before they got outta hand. Where are the other deputies?" He addressed his question to both Caleb and Sky Dog.

"Thank you, Sky Dog," Morgan said, "Anything you can find out helps."

As big as a man, Morgan thought. But whoever, or whatever it was, it must have moved quickly. No one on the street had cried out about someone jumping out of a window.

"One of the shots was mine, Marshal," Morgan explained. "When I came upon the fight, the younger Simpkins brother was beating on this young man while he was on the ground helpless. I fired up in the air to break things up."

"Jake Simpkins fired the second shot, right after I did. I think he did it to part the crowd and startle everyone. He holstered his pistol right after he shot. He'd considered drawing on me, when I made it clear I wasn't going to take he and his brother's story without question, but I guess he finally decided against it."

Morgan glanced back at the Dog Eye. "I think that most of the deputies are in the saloon. There's a girl who may have witnessed the killing. I think McNary called her Suzy. Whatever she saw, it terrified her. She hadn't yet spoken when I came downstairs. Wouldn't move from where she was huddled up. They were trying to help her."

"It looks like the killer went out the window," Morgan said, "The only deputy that's not upstairs, Daniel d'Alex, took Gabby's dog and went out looking to see if he could find any trace of the murderer."

Morgan kept his to a whisper as he related the next part. "The man that was killed. Gabby found a letter on him which identified him as a Union spy. I'll warn you, the scene up there's pretty bad. The fella was torn to pieces. Head and arms gone."

"Since the girl likely saw everything, she'll need somewhere safe to stay. I reckon you'd know better than anyone where that might be.

Morgan glanced around the street. "If you need me upstairs, Marshal, I'll be glad to come with you. If not, I'd like to take a look out here. It may be a fool's errand, but I wanted to see if I could see any trace of killer out here. Maybe locate Daniel and see what he's found."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:11, Mon 11 Mar 2013.

The crowd outside in the street began to disperse with the Wilderness Riders gone and the conflict seemingly disarmed. People began to wander, each of them going in their own direction away from the center of the street. As they wandered outside of the light available, thrown from the torches outside of the two nearby saloons as well as the light scattered by the stars and the waxing moon, they became difficult to discern.

Out of all those that left, one woman remained, waiting till everyone else had gone except for Earp and his newly appointed deputies. Unusually pretty, her dark hair hung loose about her shoulders. Her clothing was what any good and decent country woman would wear, and respectable if poor in quality. She approached the law men in the center, though she walked mainly towards Caleb, with a look in her eyes that could freeze fire. Before he could do anything about it, she had pulled back her hand and slapped him full on in the face.

Wyatt Earp looked at the woman, and the he looked at Caleb, and sighed briefly. "Sky Dog, how's about you and I go back inside and see what there is to see, and you can tell me more about what you were tellin' me before. I don't think I quite understood it all the first time. Marshal, we can catch up whenever you're done." He looked at the woman again, and back to Caleb.

"Just holler if you need help," he said dryly, and started to walk back towards the Dog Eye Saloon, beckoning to Sky Dog to come with him.

Unbalanced by Morgan's instinctive twitch away from the blow, Korpi launched herself at the face of his attacker, beating her wings furiously.

"KAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWW."

Sarah squealed at the onslaught from the bird, covering her face with one hand and swatting defensively at it with the other, taking a step back.

"Korpi! Korpi! Stop, dammit!" Morgan said, "Leave her be! Please"

Once the bird had calmed he added, "Fact is, I had that coming."

He looked to Sarah, braced for whatever she might say to him.

Korpi understood enough to tell she was being called off and stopped dive-bombing the wicked iron devil to peck her fingers, but sat on the roof over the saloon door and puffed herself up as big as possible to show she wasn't entirely appeased.
"Korrrrrrrrr..."

Sky Dog, propping up the badly injured young veteran, smirked slightly at being addressed like a real dog but remained attentive to the fellow beside him - into the saloon if that was where he wanted to go.

With Sky Dog's assistance, Walter limped along toward the saloon, though he did seem to perk up even through the serious pain he was in when the woman unexpectedly slapped one of the deputies and the bird started attacking her. It wasn't something you see everyday.

"Thank ya," he said weakly to Sky Dog as they made their way through the doorway.

"You will be pissing blood for a week, I think," Sky Dog replied, assessing old and new injury. Pale as he was, the shaman didn't smell remotely like a white man gone feral, but distinctly of smoke, grease, dry sage and reindeer.

Sarah unleashed a tirade of heated words that she thought would mask the hurt that was so clear on her face, even as she tried to keep in tears that constantly threatened to roll down her face.

"Caleb Morgan, you are a vile, miserable, wretched excuse for a man. Do you know how long I waited for you, through the war? How many hands I turned away? All that time, I thought you were soldiering on, and I prayed for you every night. I thought you must be doing the same for me, the fool I was, and that you'd come back to me. And then, after I waited, and waited, and waited some more, I had to accept that you'd probably died in the war - and I mourned for you, as if you'd done like you said you were gonna and come back to marry me. And here you are, alive and well and fit as a fiddle, and some kinda law man. Well, I hope you're not a law man here, because I don't know that I can stand to look at your face day after day."

Sarah Ingram's shadow had haunted Morgan for over a decade. In the early years of the War, she had been what gave him hope, a reason to keep pressing through the chaos and blood. They had been promised to each other and Morgan had lived for the day when the fighting would cease and he would return to Lawrence to marry her. Many nights, lying in a tent or huddled beneath the stars, he'd gazed at the tintype they had taken together at a fair, a few short weeks after they'd made their pledge to wed.

He still carried the picture in his vest pocket.

Then, he and several riders had crossed the border into Missouri, chasing a group of ruffians. When he had ridden back to Kansas, the lone survivor, he knew, among other things, that any hope of being with Sarah had been shattered. He could recall riding alone across the empty prairie hoping against hope that Sarah would never see his face again.

No doubt, it had been a mistake never to tell her. To let her think that he had been counted among the dead on one of the State's many battlefields. But Morgan had been young and for years, he struggled to make sense of what had happened to him, what he had become. Of all the people he could tell the truth to, Sarah would be chief among them. But how could he begin to explain? Would she have even believed him?

Deep down, Morgan understood that there was nothing he could say that would ease her pain, that would cool the hatred she justifiably held for him now. All he could do was offer her a small piece of the truth and endure whatever wrath she wanted to direct at him. Perhaps being able to express her rage would, in the end, help her recover from the wounds he'd dealt her.

Morgan noticed that he was holding his hat in his hands. He didn't even recall removing it. As he was about to speak, he spied the ring on her finger. There was that, at least. She'd found a life free of his memory.

"Sarah, you're absolutely right. I am a miserable man. I can't imagine the pain you must've gone through during the War and after. That was my fault. I was young. Confused. But if I'd been a better man, I would have found you. And at least told you goodbye."

"I don't tell you this in hopes that you'll forgive me. You shouldn't. I don't deserve that. But Sarah, there are things that happen in life, things that aren't really fair. Things that change everything. That take away those that are most precious to us. During the War, in Missouri, something happened to me. It made it impossible for me to ever have the life I wanted."

"But it was wrong for me to let you and my brother think I was gone. I wish I could take that back, but I can't. I should have come to you and let you be free of me."

He shifted his hat in his fingers, still wrestling with his words. "I'm not a lawman here and I don't believe I will be here for very long. I have to help Deputy Marshal Earp with a murder, but then I should be gone. If I'm ever required to return to Dodge, out of respect for you, I'll do my best to make my time here brief."

He looked at her, realizing that his feelings for her were as strong as they had ever been. She was still the woman he loved.

"Hate me as long as you need to, Sarah," Morgan said, "It's your right. But I sincerely hope that one day, when you've healed some, you can forget me."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:06, Sun 17 Mar 2013.

"I never hated you before, I just thought you were dead," she said, wiping away the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes.

"And...I still don't understand anything you're saying. You haven't told Josiah? What is it that happened to you? I mean, it's too late for us, but I don't really know that I can be at peace without knowing. I don't think I'll ever be able to forget you, Caleb. I couldn't have done it when you were dead, and I sure can't do it now that I know you're not. But at least if I could know why you never came back to me, well, maybe then I could make some kinda peace with it."

"Sarah, living here in Dodge, I'm certain you've been privy to some wild tales. Stories that are frightening. That seem too fantastic to believe. Maybe you've read a few in the Epitaph or the local paper."

He paused. "Sarah, some of those stories are real. There are some things out there on the prairie that...well, that shouldn't exist. Horrible things."

"Letting you believe me dead was wrong. There's no way around that. But you need to understand that I did what I did because I wanted to protect you. To make certain you...you wouldn't be harmed."

"But you deserve the truth. I owe you that. So I'll do this. Before I leave Dodge, I'll write a letter. Something I should have done a long time ago. I'll leave it with Deputy Marshal Earp and I'll tell him you'll be coming for it. When you're ready, it'll be waiting. Hopefully it will give you some peace. Help you to know that what happened...it wasn't because of you. If there had been any way, any way at all, I would've come back for you."

His eyes fell, his gaze suddenly focused on the dusty street. "Just promise me this, Sarah. After you've read that letter, you'll destroy it."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:43, Tue 19 Mar 2013.

Sarah drew herself up and listened intently as he spoke, looking him right in the eye like she always did. She had always been one of those women who could just smell a lie, and something about what Morgan said to her really rang true. She had always dismissed the things she read in the Tombstone Epitaph as a sack full of dime novel tales and nonsense, but she'd heard about strange things out on the prairie, sometimes from the men and women that'd seen them and she was old enough now to know the difference between tall tales and the truth. As long as it had taken her to admit it to herself, she really did truly believe that some of those men and women had been telling her God's honest truth.

"I've got to get back to my family tonight, Caleb, before they come wondering after me. I'll read your letter, and I'll destroy it, but I hope you'll be as honest in writing it as you have been here with me today." With that said, she turned, walking off down the dark streets without either a further harsh word or a goodbye for him.