September 12th, 1880. Noon. The Black Hills.

some mood music

The next day passed fairly uneventfully. Those staying with the coach made their goodbyes to those taking their leave and heading deeper into Sioux territory, then loaded into the repaired conveyance and rolled away.

Jeb and Danny get back to their friendly bickering as they roll along, and the stage ride returns to it's normal, fairly humdrum motion, though the coach feels emptier without those who stayed behind.

A little before noon, the coach arrives at the way stop to change horses.

"Alrighty, folks! We done made it!" Jeb calls out to those inside. "This here is the last stop afore Deadwood! Get out, stretch, do your necessaries, and meet back here in ten minutes!"

The way stop is little more than a bunkhouse, corral, and a sturdy wooden fence. The Black Hills rise around you. It's a beautiful fall day, crisp and clear. Everything is still green. Birds chirp, and the sun is invitingly warm.

And yet...

There's something just a little off. The cool breeze is just a shade too cool to be comfortable, and when it dies down, the sun is just a shade too hot. The birds are strangely discordant, just slightly off-key. It should be a nice day, but...it feels more like the calm before a storm.

Could this be the "unnatural dread" Wovoka talked about?

((OOC: I would like those who went with the coach to please post, so I know who is where. Just post a little something about stretching, or continue any conversations you were wanting to get involved in. I'll move the thread along when everyone's posted.))

The Professor stepped out of the coach, lugging his leather Gladstone along with him. As he stood looking about, he pulled out his odd 'sonic spanner' and ignited the little lump of ghost rock that powered the tool. He held the device up into the air, staring at it with a perplexed look. "That's odd." he commented. "Anyone else notice anything strange?

As the coach came to a stop, Zac put away his notebook. He had spent much of the trip consolidating his notes, and writing his story about their adventure against the Raven tribe. He felt a pang of melancholy, despite the people traveling with him, he felt alone again. He wondered if he would see Jack again, if their paths would cross or if Zac was meant to wonder across the country alone and friendless.

He stepped out of the coach, the cool fall air felt refreshing, as he stretched his arms high in the air. It took him a moment to realize that something was quite right. Answering the professor's question,"Not strange... just feels off somehow." He felt a shiver run up his back, as he looked at the beautiful landscape.

Nate steps down from the coach and stretches out his legs, rubbing at his knees.  Feeling almost instantly better for it, not to mention the reprieve from coach travel, he can't help but smile a bit.  He gives the little way station a good lookover, then again as the Professor inquires.   His smile fades a bit, "Yeah....  Kinda hinky, y'know?   Probably just got bounced around the coach too much."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:04, Thu 25 Oct 2012.

While the group is stretching, Danny is watering the horses and Jeb is chatting with the station manager.

"...so he returned the horse?"

"A-yup. I was gettin' worried, too...things bein' the way they are, I thought the Sioux might have had enough and attacked the stage. They're all riled on account o' the sitiation."

"What situation is that?"

The station keeper, an older gentleman with a bushy grey beard, red flannel shirt, and jeans help up by suspenders, spits a load of chaw before he answers. "Ain'tcha heard? Custer crossed the river few days ago. He's marchin' on Deadwood, on account o' them miners what got kilt. The Sioux are all up in arms about it and ridin' to stop him. They're sayin' it's finally happened. The Sioux nations are goin' to war with the Union."

"...Oh Jesus..." Jeb gasps.

"Yep. Way I hear it, folks are scared out o' their gourds, thinkin' the Sioux are plannin' to wipe Deadwood off the map any minute now. I'm closin' up shop here. Once you're watered up, I'm takin' the horses and lightin' out. Don't fancy havin' my hair hangin' from some redskin's belt, no siree."

With a frown on his face, Jeb makes his way back to the passengers.

"I done got some bad news for y'all." He says. "I just got word that the Army is on the march to Deadwood. Now, I know I can reach the town before it gets there, but I'm concerned about your safety. Are you folks sure you want to press on? Deadwood's lookin' to become the focus o' a lot of Indian attention in the very near future, and I don't feel right about just droppin' y'all in harm's way."

Stashing his sonic spanner in his bag, The Professor calls out to Jeb. "All the more reason to press on as quickly as possible.  With a little bit of luck, we can make it to Deadwood in advance of the armies and perhaps avert a calamity."

He looks to Zachary and Nate, hoping to see signs of agreement on their faces.

Zac nodded, "I appreciate your concern Mr McKeever, but I agree with the professor. If war is coming, then I guess that's where I need to be, I may only be a kid, but I'm also a reporter, and I need to be where the story is." He felt pretty resolute in his decision.

"What about you?" Jeb asks Nate. "You sanguine about continuing on? Or did you want to say with Saul here, and hoof it back to Bismark?"

Prospecting was starting to look less and less likely in his future.  Nate glanced between the others as Jeb spoke of the coming fighting.  Lost in thought for a bit, no doubt weighing out these options.  War was nothing to take lightly after all.  Jeb's inquiry brought him back around and, with less surity and enthusiasm, he answered, "Well....  I guess I came /this/ far and all....  I did say I'd help....   And maybe the Professor can help...uh...avert things...  So...  I guess I'm going.  Too."