Wyatt Earp sat at his table, studying a list of minor fights and incidents that had taken place across Dodge City the night before. The two most serious incidents had been the harsh beating Ralphie Simpkins had given a young black man named Walter Jackson and a gruesome murder. Simpkins had always been a thorn in Earp's side, and he planned two days out to run the man outta town, though he suspected he'd have to put at least a few of the Wilderness Riders down before they'd back away peacefully. Still, maybe there was hope that the old miner and his nephew could talk some sense into them. A shred of hope, maybe, though probably not much more than that. Most likely, it was a fool's errand and a lost cause.

It'd been a pretty late night. He'd watched two of the deputies, Darling and Hawthorne, make their way back towards the Dodge House. From the look on Morgan's face, he suspected that he had been taken in by Mrs. Newman's good looks and had just discovered she was married, though neither of them said anything of it as they walked back to the jail with Gabby. A brief exchange of words with Sky Dog let him know that the man was going to walk Walter Jackson back to wherever he was saying safely. It was a good idea, and one he probably should have thought of himself. A strange man, and a strange group of deputies, but they had done about as well as they might given the trouble that hit their side of town.

Then there was the matter of the murder, which is why he'd sent for them this morning to gather their thoughts and try and share any information that they had. He looked over the assembled men. And woman, and sighed, answering the question about Suzy. Had he answered it before? Despite having two men to share his watch, he still felt a bit tired this morning. After Gabby and Caleb had taken their turns at watch the night before, Earp had taken his after the both of them departed for their own beds. Knowing the doctor to be an early riser, he saw that Suzy was admitted into his care.

"Suzy's not here anymore. She's over at Doc Smith's. I had her admitted there this morning before you folks got here. Doc Smith got up with the dawn. He had my message from earlier, so he's already been over to the Dog Eye and conducted a detailed examination, and then sent for the undertaker to have that body seen to," he said, summarizing the relevant events, or at least the information he deemed needing passed on.

"Did any of you find something worth passing on last night that the rest of us need to know?"

Having been sent off on his own the previous night, Daniel was curious what the others had to say about what happened. He had been briefly told that there was a murder by Randolph, but then sent off by the man, which was more than a bit suspicious. Daniel was curious what the others had to say but had nothing yet to say in response to Wyatt Earp.

The shaman uncurled himself from his favoured spot by the wall. "I asked the window what passed through: the thing that killed the spy was big like a man, but not so big as Dalix, and shaped like a man also: it puts its shoulder into the glass with point first, yes? Not all the...round, top of the arm, as a woman must."

"It is faster than a man, that it can come from the corner, cut off bits whilst the woman is gone, turn itself in the air not to land flat from how it was charging, and go far away before the blood stops running, as it was when I came there. And it is more...tough, that it is not sliced up in little bits, though Uncle found some cloth caught - it does not wear armour."

Sky Dog considered for a moment after this statement. "I think it is less clever than a man also, to jump at the window like a little bird when poor Suzie is just making noise. It would not take so long to open!"

Gabby yawned and rubbed his eyes. It had been a long, long night, and he hadn't slept so well. He petted Clementine absently...it didn't looks like she or Danial had found anything during their excursion.

He tried to make sense of what Sky Dog was telling them...without coffee, his brain was a bit muddled, and the Siberian Indian seemed to be making even less sense than normal.

"So we're talkin' about somethin' that ain't human doin' this?" he asked. "Shaped like a person, but ain't been cut up by glass? Is that why it wanted to take the head and arms with it? For food or somethin'? We never did find them." he yawned again. "The dead man was a spy fer the Yankees. Found credentials on him while I was lookin' him over. I was thinkin' that maybe he was killed to shut him up, some kind o' spy games, but if the killer ain't human, then who knows why this man was attacked. And why didn't it kill Suzy when it had the chance? Seems to me, the body-parts it done stole were important somehow. You don't cut a man's head and arms off and then take them with you, with all the chance o' been seen that entails, without some kind o' reason."

"I have little to add other than I saw the woman and man having a very heated discussion the day of the murder.  He seemed to be trying to bully her into something, though left quickly when he saw us watching."  Fan open, she waved it lazily in front of her face to stir up her own personal breeze.  "How is the colored boy doing?  Did the doctor tend him as well?"

"I have seen it in...Alaska, where the shaman builds a thing and sends it. Maybe Suzie sees this and is frightened out of sense, though if it was not sent for her, it would not harm her, or any other person that did not-" the shaman frowned at a mental gearcrunch and made grabbing motions "-catch onto it. The arms, I do not know, but the head of the shaman's enemy is good proving that he is dead. Do you know what the doctor said of the wounds, Wyitterp?"

Cora's manner of referring to a man slightly older than him got a puzzled twitch of a frown, but a thought stirred and he turned to Morgan. "Jackson did tell me his arm had been first set on the street - do you know maybe who did that?"

"I never caught the name of the man that set Jackson's arm," Morgan said, "His accent made me think he hailed from the Deep South. He was also quite drunk. I was honestly surprised he could stand, much less provide help to anyone."

Randolph sits in the window, looking spruce and well-rested. He reaches into his pocket and pulls forth a slightly crumpled paper. "Here are the dead man's credentials. They don't say anything more than that, not even a name, which seems prudent." He muses for a moment, rubbing his closely-shaved chin.

"I keep wondering how someone cuts two arms and a head off a sleeping man, gathers them up, and crashes through a window while carrying the arms and head and the weapon used, and lands in the alley without dropping any of its burdens? Then scampers off through Dodge without anyone noticing." He chuckles mirthlessly, shaking his head.

"I mean, a head's not a handy thing to pick up, let alone carry. It seems he must have had a sack or valise to stow the appendages in.

"Doc Smith have any opinion what sort of implement was used for the dissection?"

Darling picks up on Sky Dog's question and Morgan's comment: "Sounds like the Good Samaritan could have been the fellow I stood to a drink in the Dog Eye. He seemed like a regular. McNary may know who he is."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:07, Sat 23 Mar 2013.

The soft whistled whisper of wingbeats heralded Korpi's arrival via the open door. She landed on Earp's desk and laid down a freshly-bludgeoned young rat with a *spak* of its tail against the list. "Yasak," she explained with corvid gravity, and nudged the gift towards the Deputy Marshal. "Koorr...yasak."

Sky Dog shuddered a little without noticing. "A shaman or a medicine-worker can do some things he is long trained for, drunk; it might be well to speak with him." The shaman rubbed his arm absently and gave the fuzzy far corner of the room a wary glance. "He was on the street soon after and may be aware of...strangenesses." To Darling, he added: "It maybe has blades in its form, this all-carrier. It did not use a tool to break the glass."

He grinned at Gabby. "Maybe it is an eater of arms! Ah, but it will be well to speak to the medicine drunkard - he also has nearby a room in the Dog Eye, I think."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:17, Sat 23 Mar 2013.

"Not only that," Gabby says in reply to Randolph, "Now, there was a lot o' attention out front with the attack on that poor negro, but someone in that crowd must have seen somethin'. Maybe them Wilderness Riders saw somethin' land, chased it, then saw the negro and assumed the worst. But where did the blood go?"

Daniel felt he finally had some useful information, even it is was actually lack of information he provided.  "Well, there weren't no crowd outside when ya first went upstairs. When ya left, I took a quick look around the saloon afore walkin' outside. There wasn't nothin' outta ordnary outside when I first left. Also, there weren't no bloody tracks or spots on the ground where the guy ran off ta, so there must've been a sack or somethin' like Mister Darlin' said. Also, is there a fella that needs some fixin' up? Mebbe I can look in on 'im."

He didn't know quite how to take Sky Dog's strangely worded ramblings. The man would have to improve his English over time if he was to be of any use, Siberian or not. Still, he offered a unique perspective of things and Wyatt hoped he would eventually  be able to share those insights in a way that others might understand. He didn't really know how to deal with the man's talking to windows. Looking at the others, he could tell that he wasn't alone in this.

"You all have gathered some very interesting information, though. Putting it all together, I don't know quite what it means. Paul and Suzy arguing, then he ends up dead. I don't know what that means, Miss Hawthorne, but maybe it'll lead somewhere. And then him being a spy. Maybe as Mr. Clarke suggested, there may be some kinda spy games involved, but I don't know why not just kill 'im. From what I know, when the Rangers and the Agents go at each other, and I have seen it, they usually just shoot each other dead. Don't really go hackin' body parts off and absconding with them. And like he said also, you don't just do that without a reason."

"I haven't spoken to Doc Smith about the particulars of the wounds, though his office would certainly be a good place to get started, Mr. Darling. And if he got away without noticing, I'm sure the chaos during that big scene the Wilderness Riders made he would have had a great chance to get away," he said, scratching his chin.

"As for Walter, I'm not sure if he's seen the doctor, though he probably will. Daniel, if you find Walter, he might need some tendin' if the doctor hasn't done for him already. Apparently, some Good Samaritan drunk set his arm and I think Sky Dog did some native medicine for him, but maybe you can help too if Doc Smith hasn't."

Morgan glanced out the street, half squinting at the glare of morning. What little sleep he'd gotten was fitful. Between the strange circumstances of the murder and seeing Sarah again, his thoughts had refused to stop racing. While he'd kept watch, he'd done as he promised and written the letter he'd promised his former fiance. It was neatly folded in his pocket, ready to give to Earp when the opportunity arose.

He desperately wanted a strong cup of coffee. Listening to the discussion, he couldn't keep from the thought that Sky Dog was likely correct: whatever had killed the spy wasn't human. How could an ordinary man jump from a window, carrying several dismembered limbs, leaving so little trace and escaping virtually unnoticed? The memory of Radcliffe's walking dead made it all the easier to believe that whatever was responsible was something monstrous.

Earp had to be correct about the death not involving any kind of territorial conflict between the Agents and Rangers. Something like that would've ended in gunfire. This was something different, though it likely involved whatever the spy had been investigating. Morgan had flirted with the idea of sending a telegram to the Agency about the incident, but he'd quickly rejected the idea, at least for the time being. Doing that wouldn't lead to any answers. It would simply involve the particulars, like the girl from the Dog Eye, being whisked off, and all of them being ordered to conveniently forget what had occurred.

Kansas was still his territory. If there was a monstrous killer about, Morgan wanted to know who, or what, it was. And he wanted to put a stop to it.

"It might be worthwhile to talk to some folks in the neighborhood of the Dog Eye," he offered. "It might be that some other people remember this Paul and know more about his activities. Knowing more about his business here might provide us some clues about who would've wanted to harm him."

"Well, Deputy, I think I'll go call on Doc Smith and see what he thinks about the wounds and such. I presume you're going to interview Suzy later on and get her story. I'll be interested to hear what she has to say."

He turns to Gabby, "And you're going to try to talk some sense to that Simpkins fellow, right? The leader of the so-called Wilderness Riders. Might be as well to ask what he thinks about Hays, while you're at it."

He rises from his perch and crosses to the door. "What are your plans for this morning, Miss Hawthorne? Can I escort you to lunch at Kennely's Restaurant? Or would you prefer the Dodge House?"

"I'm going to be a bit busy to go huntin' after Suzy, Mr. Darling. If you're stopping by Doc Smith's maybe you could check in on her. He said he was gonna need to keep her under his care for a little while," he said.

Sky Dog toyed with the sunlight across his fingers a moment, then interjected: "Perhaps if you are meeting the violent men I will come with you, yes? In case they are not persuaded to end their wickedness." He grinned.

The predatory expression left his features swiftly, however, as Darling's mention of the murdered town nudged a thought free. He glanced at Daniel and leant forward. "Wyitterp, a question: do you know of a place, perhaps near to Hays, where there are wide-leaf trees together - a gang of them the same in a shallow place on the land, not a wood?"

The raven on the desk watched his hands as they tried to sign out a better meaning than the words. "Nyet," she opined, and gripped the edge of the desk to see where Clemya had got to.

Daniel's face displayed his confusion for the others to easily read. "Who zactly are these Wilderness Riders?" He wasn't entirely certain what his Uncle had gotten himself into.

"I don't know these men like Deputy Marshal Earp does," Morgan told Daniel, "But I know the type. They're quick to anger and have no objection to hurting someone. Last night one of them, the younger Simpkins brother, had Walter Jackson on the ground, helpless, and broke his arm. You and Gabby can take care of yourselves just fine. Just be careful."

He stood to go. Addressing Earp, he said, "Deputy Marshal, I'm going to take a walk around the Dog Eye and that area. See if the name Paul gets me any information. Maybe have another look at the room where the murder occurred in daylight. If I learn anything, I'll bring it straight to you."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:02, Wed 27 Mar 2013.

"I fully intend to explore the town while we are here and keep an ear out for anything interesting.  If you are going to visit the doctor, Mister Darling, I shall go with you.  I'm interested in hearing what he has to say about the creature that killed the dead man."  She didn't relish the thought of having to deal with Suzy again, but perhaps the woman wouldn't be so hysterical this time.

Rising from her seat, she smoothed out her skirt and waved her fan in front of her face to generate a small breeze as she moved to join Randolph.

Gabby nods. "Sounds like bushwhackers. But since we're Confederate through and through, we might git answers out o' them, especially if we done make it seem like we're sympathetic to their cause." he says to Danial.

Gabby frowns at Coraline's statement. "And if you can keep a civil tongue as regards to her choice o' profession, mebbe she'll even talk to you. But since you were accusin' her o' cold-blooded murder not half a minute after she done got exposed to what has to be the worst thing she's seen in her life, I somehow doubt your presence there would do any good. Mebbe you oughta go with Marshal Morgan instead."

"I didn't...!"  Coraline shot Gabby a look and snapped her mouth shut rather quickly as she realized that nothing she could say would penetrate his thick skull.  With a slightly injured expression, she slammed her fan closed and shoved it into her sleeve.  Turning sharply on her heel, she pushed through the door without saying another word, stalking off into town without waiting on Randolph.

Gabby sighs. It had been a harsh thing to say, and he knew it, but while it was true she hadn't outright accused Suzy of killing the man, she'd certainly made the implication loud and clear, and she couldn't disguise the disgust in her voice when referring to the woman. A hostile interrogation was not what poor Suzy needed right now.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. He'd let his mouth run off with him again. Maybe he should follow her and try to apologize. But it probably wouldn't do no good right now...in his experience, women got mad on a slow burn, so anything he was liable to say just wouldn't help things right about now.

It was then that he fingered that odd scrap of silk he'd stuffed into his pocket the night before.

"Hey..." He muttered, pulling it out. "Hello, there." he turned it over in his hands, looking at it in the daylight.

Randolph gives Gabby a hard look: "Mister-- " He closes his mouth with a shake of his head and addresses Morgan, "Shall we meet at the Dog Eye about six this evening? We can share anything we learn and then start our patrols."

"Earp," he says to the Deputy, "If Doc has anything of interest to say or if I get anything from Suzy, I'll report it to you right away."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:39, Wed 27 Mar 2013.

Morgan nodded in response to Darling.

He remained silent for a moment after Hawthorne and the reporter departed. Darling's mention of Hays brought that massacre back to the forefront of Morgan's mind. Even with the murder last night, he was still tempted to go to the livery, retrieve his horse, and ride out to the abandoned town, leaving the situation here and the bickering amongst the deputies in Earp's capable hands. But he knew that was impossible. He'd taken an oath. Given the Deputy Marshal his word. He had to see the thing through.

But before he could walk the neighborhood around the Dog Eye, he had to get to one of the general stores. Personal business he had to be certain was attended to.

Stepping over to Earp, he handed the Deputy Marshal the letter, explaining that Sarah would be coming for it once he had departed Dodge.

Looking to the others, he said, "Let's be sure to meet up at the Dog Eye at six, as Mr. Darling suggested. Anything we find might help us track down whoever's responsible for this."

With that, he left the office.

Daniel furrowed his brow and was somewhat lost in thought as the others discussed this Suzy person that seemed to be of importance to the murder case. When he finally was pulled out of his introspection, he wasn't able to do much more than raise a finger and open his mouth before the group dissolved and he was left there with his Uncle.

He closed his mouth and put his finger down before he spoke again. "What kinda cause are we s'posed ta be sympathetic ta?" He still didn't feel like he had a complete picture. Lucky for Daniel, Gabby loved to talk.

"Well, from what I understand, these Simpkins are bushwhackers. The sorts o' good ol' boys that take shots at Yankees for fun. Run with an outfit called the Wilderness Riders." Gabby said. "You know, like them Dust Adders back in Blackthorn."


"I reckon we whistle Dixie loud enough, bad mouth the deputy marshal--no offense, Mr. Earp--and all things Union, and maybe we can get in good enough with them to see if'n they saw anything funny around the saloon before they attacked the colored boy. Maybe find out if'n the know anything about the resurrected Quantrill and his raids that we don't already know."

he regarded the scrap of cloth in his hand. "Sky Dog? You said you asked the window what shape went through it. This here piece o' silk was hangin' on the glass...I don't know how you'd ask it anythin', but it was probably on the killer." He looked up at the albino. "Would you be able to get anythin' from this?"

Korpi considered joining Morgan, but reasoned on balance that her brother was more likely to get into trouble on his own. She crouched ready to spring.

Sky Dog came forward and raised an arm for Korpi to land on, puzzled by Morgan's parting words. "Six?"

"Avakhi," Korpi observed at the mention of Quantrill.

He considered the scrap. "It is likely it will only give me to know 'I was clothing, then, I was cut up'," he shrugged, but offered his free hand if Gabby thought the experiment worthwhile. Korpi watched the proceedings with bright curiousity.

"Six in the evening." Gabby says, as if that clarified everything. "Er...about an hour afore sunset."

Gabby considered that. "Well, do you think you could find out where it was clothing afore it was cut? Some sort o' impression o' the killer's movements? Mebbe we can figger out how he got into the saloon in the first place, and mebbe where his lair is. I reckon it's still worth a shot."

Sky Dog took the scrap and sniffed it. "Maybe for hot or cold or wetness, yes for that, though cloth has no eyes to see, or ears for hearing. A moment." He folded the cloth around his fingers and closed his fist on it, shutting his eyes to concentrate.

The lawman began to look somewhat impatient. On the one hand, he had a strange Siberian-type Injun' asking him what he knew about trees, and on the other hand he had a couple of deputies bickering like an old married couple. He almost cracked a smile at the bizarre thought of Gabby and Coraline as man and wife, but he didn't. He wasn't really in a smiling mood today. He nodded to Morgan as he left, thinking for a moment longer before he joined the discussion.

"Yeah, they're bushwhackers alright," he said. "You do or say whatever it takes. If you can talk them down, then so much the better for it. If not, well then, not. Right now, well, I'm just hopin' we can catch this killer."


He frowned, watching curiously as Sky Dog took the little piece of cloth, his eyebrows raising as the Siberian's eyes rolled back, and lowering again when he seemed to come to again just moments later.

"Where do the Wilderness Riders usually hang their hats?" Gabby asked while Sky Dog pondered the cloth. "And, just takin' a shot in the dark, you know who might sell fancy shirts around here? Mebbe someone who knows more about cloth can give us somethin' more to go on."

The shaman winced, then refocused on Gabby, offering the cloth back. "It is from a shirt...the wearer...I am not sure if it has blades in its form that are fitting badly, or it hides a weapon in its arm, for not feeling pain...blood wet the cloth, along here," he transferred Korpi to his head and gestured along the top of his radius, near the wrist. "-it sticks to an arm like a man's, but there is not much. Not like a man is stabbed, yes? I am not sure if it was warm blood, it was too far, from this cloth to the place of bleeding."

"You're sayin' the killer cuts himself to hide his weapon?" Gabby asks, going a bit pale at the thought. His gorge rises a bit.

Sky Dog laughed. "Or it has flesh put on, to hide that it is a weapon!"

"Zhliev diabola," Korpi agreed. "Zhliev. Krrp!"

Only slightly more serious, the shaman looked over at Earp. "I am thinking maybe it is better to catch this one's master, who sends it to kill, than to catch onto the thing, which is very dangerous if it is made to fight. If it is found, it would be well to go following it." He spoke to his sister a moment when she hopped down to his shoulder, soft bird-mutters and Evenki. "...we do not think it can fly - it is a good thing, yes?"

Daniel made a sour look at the mention of the Dust Adders. "That sorta subterfuge sounds like a reasonable plan. I think I'll let ya do mosta tha talkin', but I can whistle Dixie with ya."

He listened to Sky Dog's speculation with interest. He briefly had a vision of clashing with man whose arm was a sword, not entirely certain if that was better or worse than simply having a sword you could hold.

"Not much call for fancy shirts around here, Mr. Clarke, but I reckon if you wander on down to McCarty’s Drugstore you might could ask him. That's the main source for cloth and such things in town," he said.

"Master or no master, all we got to go on is the killer himself." Gabby says to Sky Dog. "I reckon if we catch one, we'll have a better lead to t'other." He shudders at the though of any flying sort o' monster. "Yeah, I'll say."

He nods at Earp. "I'll check that out, thanks. Got any idea where the Simpkins might be at?"

"I don't quite know where they hang their hats, but you'll probably find the Wilderness Riders hangin' about the Lone Star Saloon. It's popular with Confederate guerrilla types and Texas cowboys," he said.

Sky Dog dipped his head slightly to Gabby's comment, though not without misgiving.

"I will go, but remain some way from you and then outside, I think. Now I am a Yankee, they will spot me very easily!" the shaman laughed, his tin animals glinting as though in echo of his amusement.

"Wyitterp, do you remember a place with the trees together, do you think?"

He frowned at Sky Dog, and then sighed. "Sky Dog, there are a lotta trees in Kansas. You're gonna have to narrow it down a lot more than that. I don't know much about wide leaves and all that, or whatever you're talkin' about."

"I don't know the word...if I can draw the place, and the little leaves, maybe you will know it...is there a thing here, to draw with?" Sky Dog looked about for something that might serve.

With forced patience, he pushed forward a piece of paper and a small pencil.

"Make it quick, Sky Dog. I've got other deputies and a few rounds to do. I can't sit here talking about trees all day," he said, standing up.

The shaman took the pencil a little uncertainly and tested it on the surface, crouching up beside the desk to keep the paper close enough to see well without leaning and unbalancing his sister.

Starting with an oak leaf at the top of the page, he quickly sketched out a skyline and a line of foreground, indicating a small hollow, then blocked in the shadowed leaves of a clump of trees, drawing awkwardly in outline around the lighter side of the copse before adding the trunks. The bulk of a tree that twisted to the right might be recognisable, and a couple of others got such detail, though the rest was filled in symbolically with lines to show several more trunks in existence.

"This kind of tree," Sky Dog said, adding an acorn beside the leaf. Korpi, curious, decided to try and steal the pencil. "This place. Quanterill is near it, maybe."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:31, Thu 28 Mar 2013.

He looked at the paper and frowned up at the Siberian, sharing a dry look between Gabby and Daniel. "Either of you wanna tell Sky Dog where we can find an oak tree in Kansas?"

Gabby shrugs. "Ain't got a clue."

"The answer is...pretty much everywhere. If you've got some secret Siberian hocus pocus tellin' you that you can exhume the corpse of Bill Quantrill or whatever the hell near an oak tree, you're gonna have to search over the whole damn state," he said, exasperation clear in his voice.

Sky Dog gave Earp a frown of good-natured rebuke as he rose, amused. "It is not well to mock a shamán, Wyitterp, you know this, I think. My blood-cousin gave me to know this sight of the gang of trees alone, when I asked him where the demon Quanterill will go, who was doing murder with the quick dead ones in Hays. Dalix will tell you, yes, my cousin flies high enough to see many things. It is more than your talking wires know, I think!"

"Dalix," Korpi put in, standing on one leg to snap the point off the pencil with her heavy beak as easily as brittle bone. She tasted the slug of graphite, scattering tiny wood chips on the floor, then spat it out and considered the rest of the pencil. Sky Dog scolded gently and reclaimed the object after only a little mock-growling and tug-o'-war with the bird, gesturing with it as a smirk spread over his broad mouth.

"Maybe I should take your breakfast to prove the worst places, yes?" He indicated the dead rat on the desk. "...but if you do not know the land at once, it is not so near, this place. If you give me the slice of paper, maybe I will show it to Morgan and Dog Eye at another time." He glanced to Gabby in indication to the elder that he was ready to leave.

He shrugged, watching the strange bird biting the pencil. "I don't know anybody by that name, or which of your cousins, brothers, sisters, or other relatives fly where, but I'd be more than grateful if you would remove that dead rat from here. You can take the drawing, and maybe the Marshal will be able to tell you where to find your oak trees." He didn't sound like he believed it.

Daniel nodded in response to Sky Dog's assertion that his cousin flies high enough to see from above. "Yah, what his coz says is prolly th'best lead we got so far. As fer oaks, there's more of 'em in the eastern part o'Kansas than 'round here. Lotsa oaks keepin' brown leaves 'til the spring. Course, if yer lookin' fer one oak, that don't help a bit. Single oak could be bout anywheres. Jus' like Marshal Earp says."

Sky Dog indicated Daniel with the minorly marmalised pencil-end. "Dalix is Daniel's clan-name; he is elder by nur-nur eight, nine months and has not given me to use his forename," he reminded Earp, moving the pencil decidedly out of Korpi's reach and replacing it on the desk.

"It has sense," the shaman commented to Daniel and offered him the drawing as proof he wasn't quite crazy enough to try and find a single tree in the entirety of Kansas. "Also we have knowing that the white madman who hates buffalo may be near..." he made a brief, frustrated noise in his throat and took up the rat. "I will seek those with land-knowing. Do we go?"

"Oak trees and buffalo hunters?" Gabby muses. "hmm. Anyway, yeah, let's get this shindig started." He regarded the scrap of cloth. "Let's check out the drugstore first, then mosey on over to the Lone Star."

He headed out the door.

The law man wanted to keep them focused on the tasks at hand, so he didn't give any further comments on what he perceived was a wild goose chase after oak trees and buffalo hunters, two things Kansas had in plenty. "Good luck out there today," he said.

The Lone Star Saloon was a short walk from the City Jail, right across the railroad tracks where both Black River and Union Blue lines made their way into Dodge City, sandwiched in between Zimmerman's Hardware and the Alhambra Saloon. Walking in those swinging doors, the first thing that stood out about the place was how incredibly plain it was. To say the least, it wasn't the fanciest saloon. It made the Dog Eye look like a place where fancy folk might like to have a drink. Still, it wasn't run down by any means. The walls were decorated with two gigantic flags, one the Lone Star flag and another one with a single golden star on a field of azure.

The place was full of people, mostly grizzled looking men that look like they'd seen a fight or ten. At least one game of cards was going on, but mostly people just sitting around drinking and talking.

Gabby grinned as he stepped through the swinging doors of the saloon. He felt at home here. The place reminded him of the Red Eye, back in Blackthorn. Not the nicest place around, but full of the good ol' boys. This was the heart o' the west, here. He looked over at Danny and Sky Dog.

"Well, I reckon we oughta get to work. I was thinkin' o' tryin' my luck around the poker table there, see if any o' them know anythin'. Danny, do you think you might be able to get anythin' out o' the barkeep? And Sky Dog..." He faltered. He wasn't actually sure if the Siberian would get much out of the boys here. Not without getting ill-will directed his way. "Sky Dog, why don't you let me an' Danial worry about finding the Simpkins boys and the Wilderness Riders? I reckon you might want to stick to seein' if anyone here caught any rumors about the killer."

Sky Dog leant on the swing doors and grinned, staying outside. "We will be close. If you have need or the Simpkins remain wicked, it is well you should call me, yes?"

The shaman went settled cross-legged on the saloon porch in any shade that was to be had like any other native begging liquor outside a bar that kept to the law, hood pulled forward. He gave the rat back to Korpi and discussed suggestions as to its use with the raven, seemingly at ease but well alert.

Clementine wrinkles her nose at the smell of the place and whimpered. She did not like the smell.

Gabby patted her. "What's wrong, girl?"

Clementine whined again. She didn't want to go in there.

Gabby rubbed his beard. "You wanna stay out here with Sky Dog, girl?" He asked.

She barked.

"Alrighty then. Stay here with Sky Dog." Gabby said, turning back to the saloon, suddenly worried. Clementine didn't like the place. He tended to trust her instincts.

The bartender was standing just outta earshot, but close enough to make them out. He beckoned them over with a wave "You boys wanna drink?" he asked.

The raven looked up and barked at Clemya. Sky Dog echoed her, grinning.
"Woof wouf!" "Wouf!"

The shaman patted his far thigh in invitation for the dog to come sit with them, ruffling her gold fur when she was near enough and seemingly paying little attention to goings-on. If Clementine was not too demanding, no-one let slip any interesting information under the assumption that he was too drunk and foreign to matter and a certain drunkard did not appear, he would set to his chant to the honour of his cousin, he decided. He pushed away thoughts of the other god for now. Later, perhaps.

Gabby saunters over to the card table, ignoring the barkeep. Danial could ask around there.

Gabby moved over to the game and watched. "Say, fellas, is there an opening here for an old-timer?"

The man next to where Gabby was standing was handed the deck of cards, as it appeared his turn to deal. He turned up and looked at Gabby, and spoke in a deep, gravelly voice.

"What do you think, boys, can we deal one more hand into this game?" At the general approval that met his request, he nodded, gesturing to an empty chair across the table from him.

"I reckon you can take that seat right there," he said, neither friendly nor impolite.

((Some Mood Music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O3erBcUTj0U))

Gabby stares at Wainwright, thoughts churning through his mind.

Here. The man who'd delivered the letter to him from the Wendell Mining Company saying the land he'd mine was now their property, despite him owning it free and clear. The man who'd stuck a gun down his mouth after several punches to the face when Gabby had refused to leave.

The man who'd stolen his dream.

"You..." He breathed through gritted teeth, while giving him a glare that could chill Hell itself.

Then he smiled. "You know what, never mind. I don't fancy givin' you the opportunity to steal any more o' my hard-earned cash." he looked over at the rest of the gentlemen at the table. "You oughta watch this'n. He's liable to take whatever's not nailed down...and even some things that is. Ya'll might want to consider playin' with a better class o' person."

Daniel walked over to the barkeep at the beckon. He nodded as he approached, "Sure thing. Beer if ya got it, whisky if ya don't." He glanced over at his uncle and noticed the change in his attitude. "Make that two." He held two fingers aloft to be certain to be understood. He waited for the barkeep to return with his drinks while keeping an eye on his uncle and sparing the occasional glance at Sky Dog.

The bartender poured out two warm beers from a small keg, and set them out for Daniel. "That'll be a dime," he said, though he was paying more attention to the situation near the card table.

"Hey...I don't steal nothin'...you piss smellin' old man. Who the hell are you, anyway?" He knew it was a weak response as soon as he left his mouth, but the old man's grit took him by surprise. He wasn't used to being talked to like that, or stood up to, for that matter.

There were four other men at the table other than Wainwright. Two of them looked at the situation developing with curiosity, but the other two looked a little edgy and didn't look on Gabby too kindly, it seemed. Wainwright himself though, he was growing red in the face. He tried to regain control, but he was quivering, and instead of the cold, steely eyed gaze and heavy voice laced with menace that he had used to intimidate so many men off their claims, he responded with an irate tone and an angry look as his hand slid to push back his coat and show Gabby a holstered pistol.

"You better watch your jaw, old man, or it may not stay attached to your face for much longer."

"No, I don't suppose you would remember any o' the people whose lives you ruined back in Blackthorn. All them miners, hopin' to strike it rich, and then having their claims yanked out from under 'em by your pappy's company when those hopes started bearin' fruit. Well, take a good, long look at me, Owen Wainwright. Because I remember you." He flips the lapel of his vest open to show the tin star pinned to his shirt. "I'm Gabriel Michael Clark, Special Deputy o' Dodge City. So if'n you got a problem with me, you got a problem with the law. You're a low-down cur, but you ain't stupid. I didn't come here to have it out with you, I got other things on my plate. But if you insist on havin' it out with me, I'll haul your ass to jail and let you wire home to pappy to bail it out. Do we have an understandin'?"

Daniel briefly had a mind to step in to help out his uncle, but thought it might be better if Gabby handled this one on his own as long as he was able. Daniel had heard plenty that riled him up but good, so it wouldn't take much for Daniel to decide that violence might be the answer here. However, Gabby had been more directly affected by what happened all those years ago. Much more directly affected.

At the very least, Gabby knew that Daniel had his back. Daniel kept his eyes on any others that looked to have a mind to do something stupid. Gabby could handle himself one on one, but if there were any others that decided to change the odds, Daniel would happily even them out again.

Surprise showed in his eyes when Gabby didn't back down. "Blackthorn? I've plied my trade in so many places it's hard to remember them all...but I think I remember Blackthorn. That was the silver mines, if I recall. Damn good money in silver. Little shit of a town, though there were some good whores at the Oriental. I hope I never see the place again, truth be told." He stood up, as if making ready to leave.

"I guess we have an understanding. You're a deputy, so you're workin' for that goddamn Yankee sonuvabitch Wyatt Earp. And you're not here to settle up with me...at least not yet. I'm not eager to shoot a law man, though, so you might wanna keep that thing on for as long as you can."

"If I never see you again, it'll be too soon." Gabby spits back. He moves to make space for Wainwright to depart.

Well, he'd just made a hash out of this whole thing. He'd just revealed himself a deputy, so there went any chance of getting anything on the Wilderness Riders out of the people here...unless someone had enough of a beef with the Riders to rat them out.

However...

Wainwright was a thug with connections. The Wilderness Riders were thugs looking for opportunities. Were they connected?

It looked like he'd have to change his tactics, though. The whole bar knew he was a deputy. That might lose him some good ol' boy points, but perhaps those who respected the law might open up a bit more. It was a gamble, sure...but they couldn't just leave empty-handed.

He went over to Danial, making sure to never quite turn his back on Wainwright until the man had left the building.

With nothing more than a low chuckle, Owen Wainwright and two of the men who were at their table took what was theirs, and made their exit from the Lone Star Saloon. The other two players looked at Gabby in silence, as the whole place seemed to be now. A sudden quiet descended on the place, and it took some time before even the seeds of conversation began to sprout.

Korpi looked up from a friendly game of catch-the-tail and hopped back into a slant of sun, wary of the small clump of iron devils all leaving together. Sky Dog merely leant back and watched them move and blur into brightness, his eyes heavy-lidded, hood forward and thoughts opaque. The hand not ruffling gold fur toyed with a large black feather.

Daniel looked at the men leaving then back to Gabby as walked over, waiting to see if there was any direction from his uncle. Seeing none, he held out the beer to him as he quietly walked over to where Daniel had been standing. The barber took a seat and waited until his uncle was close enough that he could speak quietly to the elder gentleman, "That fella need ta be followed? I know he's got somethin' comin' to him fer what he did ta ya. Or do we got somethin' else we wanna do here? Do some questionin' or whistlin' Dixie or somesuch?"

Gabby took a long pull from his beer. "Maybe. I dunno. I think I done messed up our chance here. I messed up real bad." He begins shaking. Standing up to Wainwright had taken more nerve than he'd let on, and the adrenaline that had been fueling his bravado was draining fast. "I'm just a stupid old man who can't keep his tongue calm." He takes another pull from his beer. "That bastard broke my nose, you know. Just before he shoved his gun down my throat to force me to abandon my claim. He's bad news. But I don't know if he's tangled up with anythin' concernin' us. My gut tells me so, but that's the same gut that had me all suspicious an' paranoid about Randolph Darlin', so I don't know how far we can trust that. I think I done wrecked our chance to whistle Dixie here...I don't know what to do."

Daniel smiled and shook his head while placing a comforting hand on Gabby's shoulder. "One thing ya ain't is stupid, uncle. You gotta a lot more sense an' gumption than that feller ya faced down. Looked like he wanted ta piss hisself, an' that's with two fellas backin' 'im up. He done ya wrong, an I'd understand if ya wanna go after 'im. I gotcher back, whatever ya decide."

He paused for a moment, "As fer Mister Darlin', why do ya think yer suspicions ain't right? There's somethin' don't sit right about ol' Randy. Sent me off on some wild goose chase when that woman got killed. Makes me feel like he wanted me outta th'way. Whether ta remove support for ya or for more nefarious reasons, I dunno."

Gabby smiles faintly. "You're a good boy, Danial. Thanks. But I don't wanna go after him. I'd as soon stay as far away from that bastard as I can get, unless his business is somethin' the Law of Dodge oughta get involved in. We need to find the Simpkins boys and talk with them. That's why we done come here. No use rubbin' salt in old wounds."

He nods. "I suppose it's all this Agency stuff. Thinkin' that the Union's got spies all around has me thinkin' everyone's a spy. But it's good to know I ain't the only one a mite suspicious o' him."

he sighed. "Well, the cat's out o' the bag, but we can at least ask the Barkeep what he might know about the Wilderness Riders."

Daniel nodded when his uncle stated he didn't want to chase after the fellow that had wronged him. He wasn't surprised, but he'd have his Uncle's back either way. "We can keep a special eye out fer him an' those other fellas. Folk like that always seem ta make trouble or find it."

He scrunched up his face a bit at Gabby's mention of the Agency. "Whaddya know 'bout the Agency? An' why would bluebellies wanna spy here? Not like they need ta be undercover in these parts. Seems like spies are more useful south o' Mason-Dixon, ya know?" Daniel was sure there was a good reason for a spy to be in these parts, but he wasn't sure he understood what it was. Perhaps his uncle could be a source of enlightenment.

Gabby nods at Danial's suggestion to keep an eye out for Wainwright.

Gabby shrugs. "Ain't much. They's supposed to be spies or somesuch. Apparently the Union uses these Agents to look into supernat'ral events...that's why they done hauled Radcliffe away. But as for spies, well...Dodge City's one o' the biggest cities between North an' South. Right smack dab in the most holy disputed zones in the whole war. I reckon they come here so they can head on. Or maybe just keep a weather eye on things, see if anything's brewin' in Texas or Indian Country." He rubs his jaw. "And then there's all the unofficial fightin' that goes on here in Kansas. The Border Ruffians and the Bushwhackers takin' shots at each other. Both countries count Kansas as their state, so both have a powerful interest in watchin' what the other side does."

Daniel nodded sagely at the response. He was no expert in spy-work, or even particularly knowledgeable, though he did wonder. Having undercover assets in such a place as this could provide more benefit than ones that were apparent. Perhaps folks that said the right word at the right time could sway opinions and somesuch. But one thing confused him a bit, "Wait, when'd they haul Radcliffe away?"

"Sometime yesterday. Me an' Caleb went to talk to him, see what he might know about...the Hays thing." Gabby says. "But they'd already taken him away. You were off with Sky Dog doing your barberin'. Caleb said the US Marshals are under orders to contact the Agency when they come across...things like Radcliffe's experiments. He was obviously surprised they'd gotten to him so quick, muttered somethin' about havin' second thoughts about callin' 'em in so quick next time. I reckon the fact they got to Radcliffe so fast means they've got a hidden base or somethin' here in Dodge."

Daniel suppressed the chill creeping down his spine at all this talk of spies. However, it still didn't seem to add up. "What sorta power've these Agents got in Dodge that they can getta man outta jail? Seems like we ain't in the union here, right? They got special rights here? It don't 'zactly add up."

"Same one the Texas Rangers got, I reckon." Gabby says. "I'll have ta show you some o' my issues o' the Epitaph that mentions them, but since both sides claim Kansas, both sides try ta enforce their laws here, and Marshal Earp said he didn't want to play no favorites." He finishes off his beer. "We can worry 'bout government overreach later. We got a job to try an' do now. All this talk 'bout spies an' spooks ain't gettin' us any closer to the Wilderness Riders."

Daniel shook his head, "Texas Rangers didn't get no call nor chance ta haul Radcliffe away. I'd say Marshal Earp was playin' favorites." Daniel looked around at the folk in the bar and hoped that it had livened up and gotten back to normal during their brief conversation. The next step seemed to be seeing if the barkeep might be of help. He said to Gabby, "Let's get ya gabbin' with the man behind th'bar then."

He looked up from his uncle at the man pouring drinks, "Barkeep?" Daniel raised a hand and a finger to get his attention.

"What'll it be?" he asked simply, looking uncertainly at the two.

The shaman sat by the threshold and half-dreamed, wedged between thought and sleep like a bird or a boy making his nest in a pine.

The constant murmur of Americans from the bar behind blurred to a single voice like water's. The shadow of the god's presence brushed near him, a textured darkness up at the back of his mind. Sky Dog shifted his thoughts away from the watcher, fingers stirring through Clementine's fur. Lucidly drifting where space was of no consequence and Time unhinged and relative, Sky Dog cast his mind back into familiar geographies.

Needles thick underfoot, springy, giving off the smell he'd always associated with summer. A thin stream. The sparse shelter of a crevice in the rock. The grave of a child up on the ridge, its long poles like the legs of some monstrously tall animal from the Upper World. Sky Dog was unsurprised at the image of the place where he'd been born: it was his start, and no matter how far he migrated his soul would return to it. Sky Dog settled his dozing viewpoint in the same position as his body for stillness, scratching his antlers against the tree behind (they itched) and set to calling his spirit helpers in to be groomed and replenished by his name-song.

Korpi stopped mock-murdering Clemya's tail a moment and cocked her head to identify the chant. Satisfied her brother was still partly present in the Middle World, she hopped up on Clemya's flank and walked up her back to offer her the rat, since it looked like they'd be there a while.

First, as usual, the golden flicker of his precious vampire butterly. Then the warbler, the frost-fox and the viper... Sky Dog's heart stumbled and beat cold, once, as the impression of the god's cachinnations crackled through the branches. He waited, fearing he had been minded to stave in the head of a helper-spirit, then gathered his will and sang stronger, drawing those still absent more forcefully. Ermine, spider, eel darting through the air... At almost the last syllable the gyrfalcon barrelled down. Barred white feathers. Her eternal amber glare.

Sky Dog physically winced a little as the hawk-spirit ripped flesh from the back of his hand by way of greeting, Elsewhere. Reaching out to stroke, placate; red smudges on her white chest. He couldn't help but grin twice over, relieved they all were safe.

"Information, if you please." Gabby says. "We're investigatin' some trouble at the Dog Eye Saloon last night. Couple o' boys by the name o' Simpkins beat up a nigger, and The damnyank Marshal done wants us to give them a talkin' to. I heard the Wilderness Riders hang their hats here sometimes, so I was wonderin' if you could point me in their direction so I can get this done an' over with."

Gabby didn't like the spin he was putting on this--true, he'd only heard about the beating, and he definitely didn't approve--but sadly not everyone shared his "live and let live" philosophy when it came to colored folk. Now that he'd blown their cover, he was hoping that spinning this investigation into a perfunctory chore being undertaken by a resentful deputy would garner a bit of sympathy from the pro-Confederacy crowd here.

"Damn Wilderness Riders, makin' us all look bad. Don't know what's worse, them or you workin' with that goddamn Yankee. Prolly them," he said, grunting.

Pointing over at the table that Gabby had been about to sit down at, he gestured at two of the men there. "Jake and Ralphie Simpkins. You were about to play a game of cards with 'em. Don't know if they'll want you back there, now that everybody knows. But there you go."

"sonofabitch." Gabby mutters. Yeah, that was going to make this whole thing just that much more complicated.

Well, there was no help for it. Pasting on his friendliest smile, he sauntered back over to the poker table. "Sorry 'bout the commotion earlier, fellas." he says. "Is there still room fer another at this here table, now that the company's improved?"

"You really workin' with that damn Yankee?" he asked, testily.

Gabby grimaces. "Workin' with, not for, but yeah, I'm a deputy. Just makin' some money for my trip out to Californy, try my hand at minin' again. Don't worry, I ain't out to hassle ya. I just got a few questions to ask about last night. I figger you tell me the truth about what happened, I take that to Earp, and maybe he drops it." He shrugs. "It couldn't hurt, could it?"

"Workin' with, workin' for, ain't much of a difference, is there? Earp calls the shots. He says hop, you jump. Ain't that the way it is? Now he's gettin' you on our case. We ain't got much to say. Ralphie ain't killed nobody. He just beat up on that damn Yankee nigger, that's all. Fella was handin' out flyers, sayin' Kansas should be part of the Union. Ralphie was about to set him straight when some of your fella Yankee deputies intervened, so he had to postpone his lesson," said Jake.

"What more do you wanna know?"

"I ain't actually interested in the nigger." Gabby says. "What I am interested in is if you or any o' your boys happened to spot somethin' funny happenin' at the saloon round about the time you were settin' him straight. Say, someone jumpin' out a window?"

Both the Simpkins brothers seem to relax a little bit at that.

"That street was packed with people watchin' me give that boy a whoopin'. I didn't see nobody jumpin' out windows or nothin'. Didn't hear that kinda thing either. Who in the hell jumps outta windows?"

"Murderers fleein' the scene o' their crimes, that's who." Gabby replies. "Someone was kilt in the Dog Eye, an' that's how he fled. I'm hopin' someone in the crowd might have seen somethin' to help us track this bastard down afore he kills again. Were there any o' your fellow Wilderness Riders there? Mebbe they saw somethin'."

"Who got killed?" he asked, looking suspicious.

"One o' Suzy Winger's customers." Gabby replies. "We think it was a robbery gone wrong. The Killer busted into the room, attacked the man, and leaped out the window, leavin' poor Suzy scairt and traumatized when she came into the room behind 'em. The killer took somethin' from the victim. He might have had a bag or sack o' some sort."

"Good ol' Suzy," he said. "I'd like to get me a piece o' that. She only got eyes for Jake though, I think. Who ever heard of a picky whore?"

Jake seemed to ignore Ralphie completely.

"Look, we didn't see nothin' like that. There was the fight in the street, it was hot, and there was a lot o' hollerin' and gunshots. Nobody jumpin' outta windows. I assume you mean up at the Dog Eye, which was where we was at. You sure your killer jumped out the window? Maybe he took the old back stairs. Prolly not, though. There's that fold up set o' stairs out back that can be used to get up the building, but it's creaky as hell."

Gabby forces a good ol' boy chuckle. "Guess she's pretty enough to be picky if'n she wants to be."

It's not like most o' them get much choice, he thinks to himself.

"I believe ya." Gabby says. "We're pretty sure the window was how he got out. But we ain't sure how he got in, so that's helpful, thank ye kindly. Were you two the only Wilderness Riders there? The more o' the crowd I can find, the more folk I can ask about what they saw."

Hmm...creaky stairs? Gabby thought to himself. I wonder...gonna have to check somethin' at the Dog Eye, but mebbe our killer was already there.

"There was a bunch more, but I think you're barkin' up the wrong tree here. Everybody was lookin' in on the fight, and then that deputy walked in with his gun, and shots were bein' fired. I don't think anybody was lookin' a windows or back stairs or buildings at all. I can talk to my people, and we'll send word if they know 'bout the killer. Don't nobody wanna see Suzy gettin' hurt, nor any o' her customers neither. She's a good girl, don't fuck no bluebellies," he said.

Daniel had walked over to accompany his uncle to the table , and sat down next to him. He listened to the back and forth but didn't interrupt his uncle once Gabby got going. Still, that Jake seemed to know Suzy interested Daniel. He laughed when Gabby did, and continued to sip his beer .

"I reckon I am, but the barkin' had to start somewhere." Gabby says. "I thank ye kindly fer your help. We want to catch this guy afore he kills again, so if any o' your Riders saw somethin', send 'em our way. Have 'em ask fer Gabby...that's how you'll know the deputy you talk to is friendly." He stands, then hesitates. "Oh, and one more thing...don't trust Wainwright. He may talk slick and flash around a lot o' money, but all of it came from stealin' the sweat o' the brow of Southerners. He's a snake in the grass, that one."

Daniel nodded at the Simpkins folk and the barkeep, "Thankee fer talkin' wit' us." He stood as his uncle did, though frowned at Gabby's warning concerning Wainwright. That name just sounded like trouble, even if he didn't know more about the particular bastard that had caused his uncle so much pain.

"Well, I reckon that wasn't all that useful an idea after all." Gabby says as he exits the Alamo into the daylight. "Still, let's check that drugstore. Mebbe he can get somethin' off the shirt scrap we found."

Clementine barks and trundles up to Gabby as he exits. The old man looks over to Sky Dog. "'Bout ready to vamoose?"

Sky Dog broke off from a thin, weird chant, finishing the second of a pair of slender braids made loosely forward and resting over the vulnerable tops of his ears. One of the raven feathers from last night had made a reappearance there.

"Dalix!" Korpi greeted the same, re-furling her wings from sunbathing.

The shaman's dog-blue eyes caught Gabby's. "Do they remain wicked, Uncle?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:45, Sun 21 Apr 2013.

Gabby frowns. "I dunno for sure. They didn't assault me or Danny, so that's a plus." his eyes narrow. "Only wicked one I saw in there was Wainwright. You'd'a seen him comin' out with a couple o' his friends. Bastard's soul is black as tar, that one. But as fer the Simpkens, well, they were rather proud o' themselves, but aside from that...no, I don't think they're wicked. Bein' mean ain't the same as bein' evil."

"Ah? I had thought 'wicked' was...to do wrong, and 'evil', the stuff, no?" Sky Dog pulled to a crouch and stood, stretching. "-But it is your true belief, Uncle, that they are a-mended and will not act with unjusticed violences any more, yes?"
He bent to let Korpi step up on his wrist.

"Well, now I wouldn't go so far as to say that." Gabby says. "I don't think the Simpkins is at all changed, and I reckon they might attack that poor fella again if given the chance. But we ain't here to start a fight with them over somethin' they may or may not do in the future. That's why I didn't fight with Wainwright, neither. I don't know what the law is like where you're from, but here in the CSA a man's presumed innocent o' wrongdoing until proved otherwise. Unless they do somethin', legally we can't do nothin' to 'em, and I'm not interested in harassin' 'em none. My Pappy always said not to go pokin' mean dogs with a stick unless you gotta, and we got a killer to catch. He's the one what's done soemthin' wicked, and we need to find him afore he does it again."

Sky Dog dipped his head, his tone still gentle and manner deferent to the elder. "I have seen their acts, and Korpi says they did also threaten Morgan," he mentioned.

After a small hesitation, he clapped Gabby lightly on the shoulder, breaking into a grin. "Do not worry! Do you go to find the shirt man - or better, the medicine drunkard whose room is in Dog Eye's building, he has the...clear sight of things, I think. Yes? I will come after."

"But I have said a thing will be done, and it is not yet done: where I come from, a shamán does not speak falsely. You will forgive me my custom, I hope? I will not cause fighting."

Gabby returns the gesture, laying a hand on Sky Dog's shoulder. However, he's firm enough with his grip to keep the Shaman from proceeding inward. "Sky Dog, listen to me. If you ain't plannin' to fight 'em, then whatever it is you're gonna do is probably gonna provoke them into fightin'. You do that, we won't have just them to worry about...they's gonna call on all their friends, too. I ain't got any idea how many o' them are already in the bar, but we ain't provokin' them. Not if we don't have to." He cocks his head to the side. "Anyway, what is it you said you'd do, anyhow?"

Korpi was clearly tempted to peck at the arm directly beside her head, but stepped over when Sky Dog raised the wrist of his captured arm. She edged her way up towards Gabby's shoulder as the men spoke, to jump from there to his hat.
"Korp."
"I do listen, Uncle - any trouble here, I will keep it for my own self, yes? It is not hard!" The broad grin tilted a bit as he observed Gabby's arm, expression momentarily hard to parse: either comforted or amused by the concern, or possibly preparing to bite.

The shaman's gaze met Gabby's. "I would curse them. Until they behaved better, they would remain, cursed. Not able to be harming me, or Jackson, or throwing everywhere violences like the cedar husks. It is better than to say now, 'we are friends, yes, you may be wicked' and then later to know they are punished with killings and the stone house for wickedness, I think."

Gabby blinked. He sctatched his beard, then blinked again. "Nooooo," He drawled, trying to find his thoughts, "that's...definitely not a good idea. That is the exact opposite of a good idea." he looked up at Danial, a little helplessly. "You...aw, hell." he sighs. "Look, I ain't got nothin' against your beliefs, and it's noble an' all that you want to look out fer everyone. But you can't just go around cursin' folk! You go in there and try some Siberian voodoo thing, and everyone's just gonna skin their smokewagons and start shootin'! And...And even if they don't, what d'ya think is gonna happen if somethin' do happen to one o' them? You go around cursin' them, and say Ralphie there twists his ankle or somethin', they're gonna blame you! They're gonna go, get all their friends, and come huntin' fer ya! And since you're wearin' a deputy's star, who d'ya think they're gonna come after next? hell, you might even give 'em a pretext. You go in, curse 'em, and then they get all them Wilderness Riders whipped up ta attack the marshal on account o' they think they's bein' harassed!"

Daniel smiled at Korpi and reached out a hand to run along her back. "Hello, Korpi. Hope ya didn't mind us takin' our time tryin' ta figger out what'sa goin' on with those folk."

He listened to some of the back and forth. "Uncle, I know we was wantin' ta hear what they had ta say, but if'n we know those Simpkins fellas did somethin' that was against the law, don't we gotta do somethin' 'bout it? Sky Dog sorta gots a point. However, this mebbe isn't the time nor place fer such, Sky Dog. You said yer gonna do somethin', but did ya say when? Cuz doin' it when they're surrounded by friends and we ain't - well, that ain't thinkin' things all the way through ta their conclusion, ya know?"

"Uuuuuuuuuuurk," Korpi joined in cheerfully at Gabby's drawl. The raven ducked a little at first, ready to launch into the air at the first sign of a grab, but soon relaxed upon realising Daniel only wanted to stroke her. The mantle of smaller feathers at her shoulders showed all its subtle shades of irridescence as the gentle pressure changed how barbules caught the light, smooth as warmed satin.

Deciding she really did trust Dalix, Korpi fluffed her head and neck feathers a little and offered him the base of her skull for scratching.

Sky Dog leant back against the outer doorframe, extremely confused. "Shoot at a shamán?" he repeated, incredulous. "Do they not teach your people as children, it is so much foolish to offer one harm, even when a shamán is a hundred years dead?" He shook his head. "They would be far more cursed!"

The shaman stared at Gabby a moment, before being distracted by Daniel. "I would not curse the man to twist his ankle - for that much, I could be pushing him off a porch - he is learning very little! No, I woul- hm?"

Sky Dog nodded to the barber, seeing the wisdom. "For myself, I would be protected, but if you would wish to help it would be a bad seeming...maybe you are right that I should wait, but I am worried they will kill the man Jackson, as almost it was last night, or harm another, and think it no wickedness to do so." Sky Dog fiddled with the feather bound to his right braid.

Daniel scratched Korpi at the base of her skull, as it seemed she wanted. "Nope, these folk don' know nuthin' 'bout the dangers o' shootin' at a shamán." He tried to copy Sky Dog's word as precisely as he could. "Prolly don't even believe in curses, neither."

He nodded at the question about Jackson, "It doesn't seem just that those men are still walkin' free after what they done. Their wickedness has not been eliminated. But we gotta figger out the right way ta handle it."

The raven leant into the scratching like a cat, eyes half-closed in pleasure.

Sky Dog's disturbed frown deepened, his fingers shifting to a stylised hawk among his tin beasts. "Maybe...I could set a helper spirit to watch for when they leave this place...but it is not much knowing, for the cost. I am unhappy to be away from them in this place." He looked to his sister, who was paying no heed to anything but the most wonderful and delicious headscritches. The shaman sighed.

"Maybe if you do see them again before I catch up to them - not in a place with many foolish, foolish drunkens - you can keep the alliance by telling them I am seeking for them for this purpose. Then, they are warned, and understand you as friendly, and they know they have done a thing that merits this punishment. Yes?" Sky Dog held up a hand, palm-up to show he was out of ideas. "What is your word, Uncle?"

Gabby sighs. "That's acceptable. Now, let's mosey on to the drugstore and see if we can't learn about this scrap o' shirt."

As the three of them squeezed their way into the store, they nearly bumped into an older gentleman who was carrying a bundle of something wrapped up to the front of the store. Looking at what he took to be the bemused expressions he was confronted with he squinted at them and said, "Can I be of any assistance to you?"

"I'm hopin' so." Gabby says as he adjusts his tin star. No need to hide it now. "I'm lookin' into a crime at the Dog Eye last night. Feller attacked a man then jumped through a window. Happened to leave a piece o' his shirt behind." He pulled out the scrap of silk. "I've heard you're the local expert on fine clothes...d'ya think you might be able to tell me anythin' about this?"

"Oh, dear me! Attacked a man! Jumped through a window, you say! My goodness. And a deputy," he said, putting his bundle down on the counter, and ignoring other customers that seemed to be trying to get his attention.

"Nobody came in to see me after an attack. I suppose whoever it was went to Dr. Smith," he said, grumbling something under his breath a bit before bucking up again cheerfully. "Well, you'll have my full attention here. I don't know about being an expert on fine clothes or nothin' but...I'll do my best. Give me that here scrap o' cloth." He very nearly snatched it out of Gabby's hands, and taking out a magnifying glass examined it closely, getting as much a feel on the small scrap as he could.

"Oh my, oh my. This is very fine cloth. Very fine indeed. I never sold nothin' like this in the store, no I didn't. It's silk, and a very fine make. Something that likely came from overseas, I would think. Something like this...you couldn't buy it anywhere here. You'd have to go Back East to find something this fancy. You know any Yankees?" He barked a laugh, and then held up his hands defensively.

"No, no, don't answer that. I don't mean nothin' by it. Just talkin'. I suppose there's folks from the South that are from Back East too! I mean it about the quality though. Good cloth, and definitely not something you can find in a frontier general store."

"Not anywhere in Dodge?" Gabby asked. "Could it be mail-ordered? Or would it have to be tailored specific-like?"

"Not anywhere in Dodge. Not a single place. I suppose it could be mail ordered at that, like you say. I wouldn't know where to get it, honestly. I suppose someone who did could write to somebody, wire over money, and then hope it arrived - if it arrived. Probably somebody with a lot of money to do somethin' like that, though," he said.

"Not much call for clothes that fancy, though. Not this far west."

"Well, thank ya kindly fer your time." Gabby says, taking back the shirt scrap. "This should help narrow down the suspects."

Daniel walked into the store, smiling as he looked around. He listened carefully to what the other man had to say, though he didn't think it helped all that much. It was too bad the scrap of cloth couldn't talk.

He tapped the brim of his Fedora as Gabby thanked the man for his time. He turned to his uncle. "Do ya s'pose we should talk to the doc? Mebbe the fella that lost this scrap had ta get patched up?"

Korpi craned to look for unattended shiny from her new vantage post of Daniel's hat. This place was full of things that might be food.

"Spath'ba," she thanked the shopkeeper, and tried to steal the shop bell as Dalix passed.

Her brother gently deterred a curious bystander from rubbing his face without looking back. "I think maybe we would have heard before, if such as the killing-thing is taking...him-self to the white doctor, Dalix," he commented, a smirk haunting his expression.

"Unless he can hide himself as normal man." Gabby replies. "No, I think talkin' to the doc might be a good idea. And then there was that mystery doc who set Jackson's arm...seems to me that fellow might have played Good Samaritan to anyone about."

Daniel nodded at Gabby's response, "It don't cost us nothin' but a few steps and some hot air ta talk ta th'doc. Best ta do it while we're here. Shopkeep said doc was upstairs, ya?"

"It is not cut by glass, and maybe does not feel pain...it would be wise for the master to cause...him to fix him-self, yes?" Sky Dog said, but made no real objection, even if the thought of white doctors - with their curiosity and worse, their photographs - seemed to make the shaman uneasy.

"Darling did think the medicine drunkard was the one from the Dog Eye," he added.

Korpi, seeing as the others had stopped to wrangle a moment, hop-fluttered down on the counter whilst the shopkeep was more attentive to customers. She paced a few steps one way, then the other, pecked cautiously at a jar to affirm that it was made of that strange ice-that-stays substance, and turned her attention to unpicking the bundle out of corvid curiousity.

"Yeah, but ya said he cut himself to hide his knife. Mebbe the Doc saw someone with a bloody arm." Gabby says.

Dr. McCarty shooed away the bird, grabbing the package. "You need to tell your friend here to get his bird out of my office!" he said to Gabby and Daniel, sounding annoyed.

"It's not hygienic for any of my patients that should happen to come through here, possibly sick, to have that thing in here putting its beak on the medicines. I'll treat a sick Injun like I would the next man, but I can't have that kinda thing in here!"

Korpi hopped hurriedly away from the shooing hands, then took to the air as she ran out of counter, landing awkwardly on the edge of the tallest furniture in the room.

The corner of Sky Dog's mouth gained a kink of a smile as he attempted to talk her down to his upraised arm. Korpi shuffled atop the cabinet, considering whether the territorial human would leave the bundle if she knocked down a few of the not-ice objects.

"Ha! Ha!"

Sky Dog's tone became a bit more insistent. Korpi joined him somewhat grudgingly, stepping up to his shoulder when offered. "ggrmblrrmblk."
"We will remove ourselves," the shaman said, the almost-smile still there.

"I will ask Dog Eye where is the medicine drunkard," he added to the deputies, then to the offended doctor: "From the no-colour, my sight is poor - but the hearing, it is normal. Probably better than a city person!" He grinned broadly and went on his way with no specific farewell. Clearly, something amused the shaman outside, as his laughter could be just about picked out of the crowds' murmur a moment later.

Daniel furrowed his brow at Korpi and Sky Dog's dismissal. The shaman had grown on him in their brief time together. He gave them a wave, "We'll catch ya later, Sky Dog. Mebbe at the Dog Eye."

He turned his attention to the doctor, "Heya, doc? We was wonderin' if ya patched up anybody last night. Mighta been wearin' some fancy clothes?"

"Oh, you again. Nope, can't say as I've patched anybody up in a good long while. I still get a few patients now and again, but most folks go to Doc Smith to get patched up. Still, I don't even think he operates at night."

"Well, thank you for your time." Gabby tips his hat to Dr. McCarty again.

"Doc Smith wasn't open last night." He says to Danial. "We had to wait until mornin' to take Suzy there, so it's a good bet he didn't treat anyone. Let's find that mystery beggar...he set Jackson's arm, so he might have looked after our killer, not realizing who he was helping."

"Well, a good day to you then," he said. Almost as soon as he was done speaking, another customer came to harass him for something and he moved off to tend to them.

Daniel nodded at McCarty, "And a good day to you as well."

He looked at his uncle as he explained about the closure of Doc Smith's. "Sounds good, uncle. Let's go see if we can locate that fellow." Not for the first time, he wished that he hadn't listened to Randolph's suggestion the day before. It had led to him being constantly on his heels during the investigation.