"Fixin', mostly." Jake says. "Most things I make ain't much more functional than this here doohickey," He waves the gizmo around for emphasis, "but folk always need somethin' fixed up."

"The usual sort, I suppose," Earnest returns with a smile, "God, Jesus, the Gospels. As to denomination, I was raised and trained as a Methodist, but I'm pretty comfortable with all kinds."

"Fire and Brimstone? Pillars of salt?" Al smiled back at the Reverend. "My pa is a Methodist minister as well. Maybe ya know him? The Reverend Michael Cooper?" With Methodists, it wasn't all that far-fetched that Earnest had at least heard the name.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:09, Wed 24 Jan 2018.

"That they do," he agreed with Jake. "Well, I suppose I know where to get things fixed if I've got anything that breaks."

He smiled at the holy man's reference to being the 'usual' sorta minister. In his own experience, men of God came in many varieties. Some were pillars of the community and critical to life in small towns scattered throughout the West, some used their authority and position for their own ends more than that of their fellow men, and some were just men of the cloth doing their best to hold themselves and perhaps a few others together in a strange and often times harsh world that frequently offered more questions than it did answers. If either himself or this Reverend stayed in town long enough, he looked forward to seeing what kind of minister he was in truth. That said, the man seemed to have a positive disposition, which while not dispositive of anything, seemed at least a good indicator. There was much to be said for a smile and a kind word.

"You from around these parts, Rev?" he asked the minister.

Kate looked back at Cooper.  Truthfully, it pleased her to know he wasn't dead, which was about as close as Kate could ever possibly get to calling someone a friend.  Him being alive was a thorn in the side to some certain parties she had serious... unpleasantness with.  And in retrospect they had enjoyed a lively time.

But it bothered her very much he was here.  She had nothing against him, but if those buzzards had followed him here, that could be a problem.  Of course they could have followed her just as easily, but all the same it was double the odds this way.

Accepting her hat back without comment, she at least nodded her thanks, and flipped it up back over her head.  She normally used a(nother) fake name for traveling, but the cat was out of the bag.

"I'll remind you kindly sir the appellation is Kansas Kate.  It weren't nothin' I ain't particularly proud of, but by God I earned that name."  She spoke to he who had spoken to her directly, but it was clearly intended for all to hear.

If they wanted an introduction she'd give a brief one.  "I'm a God-damned possum herder."  She was clearly not a possum herder.  The tone clearly implied she didn't give a cactus needle that any listener obviously knew that was the case.

But she was quite possibly God-damned, Kate couldn't be sure.  God either loved her for sending so many souls to their maker or hated her for same.  Albert Cooper at least would know that Kate could be more fun than this, but she was miserable in this stagecoach and she wasn't being shot at.  It was pretty hard to see her brighter side under those conditions.

Her eyes rested on the rifle in the cabin.

Albert tilted his head slightly to the side at Kate's response. "Appalachians ain't nowhere near Kansas, Kate. And last I heard ya still were referred to as Katie the Cutie. Course the women that referenced ya so tended ta fixate on gals yer type, so maybe that one didn't catch on so good." Albert smiled broadly at Kate hoping a bit of jollity would shake her apparent malaise. Kate's presence reminded him of the good ol' days. Things weren't exactly easier back then, but they sure were better.

A lot had happened since those days, including any number of things better forgotten. Unfortunately, a man's brain didn't work that way. All those things that happened in the past - came back to haunt a fellow. Haunted him while he was awake, haunted him while he slept, dogged every footstep he took.

The ranch hand chuckled at Kate's job description. "Possums and cats, from what I recall. If ya ever tire of that, you maybe come try your hand at herdin' cattle. Pays better. Gotta widen up your lasso a bit, though, if ya know what I mean."

"Noble profession, herdin' possums.  Kinda partial the armadilla, myself.  Got shells, so you just wait for 'em to curl up in a ball and then you can kick 'em where you want 'em to go. " Jacinta commented with a straight face.  She stared at the woman who was presently staring at her rifle.  "Kansas Kate, huh?  Not the Kansas Kate, surely."  After taking a drag of her cigarillo, she held it up in offering.

"Name's Jacinta Castillo," she offered to the others by way of greeting.  "Scout, tracker, herder of armadillas."

She had an easy way about her with an open, calm manner.  She hadn't jumped at the sudden bang, but she had thrown a dark scowl at the man with the ghost rock gadget.  That scowl had disappeared rather quickly, though, wiped away by years of practice.  Dangerous thing to let the anger show through when the wrong person was looking.  Even more dangerous still to let that anger control you.  She tried not to do either and mostly succeeded.  Mostly.

The tall man in buckskins tensed at the sudden sound from McGraw’s device, his blue eyes narrowing when Kate drew her weapon. As calm returned to the cabin, he settled down somewhat, listening to the conversation between the passengers and glancing occasionally at the sea of grass beyond the window beside him.

Clearing his throat, he said, ”It sounds as though most of you are familiar with New Mexico. This is my first time in the territory. I’ve lived in Texas the last several years.”

He nodded politely. ”My name’s Pat Garrett. I’m traveling to Lincoln in search of work. I hear there’s buffalo in the valley west of town. I aim to go hunting, or maybe hire on with one of the nearby cattle outfits.”

Albert nodded at the buffalo hunter, but went around the entire interior one at a time. It always helped him to repeat names after he met folk, just so he remembered their name. Plus he didn't want to seem like he was ignoring anyone or anything.

"Nice ta meetcha, Jacinta. You're the finest lookin' tracker I ever met. And nice ta meetcha Bryan. I gotta friend in the Rangers - names Harold Benson. Also works out here in New Mexico. Mebbe ya know him. Jake - you're bein' awful humble. My uncle says you're the best fixit guy he's ever met. And he's kinda old. And nice ta meetcha, Pat. I can check with my uncle to see if he's lookin' ta hire any more. What kinda skills ya got so I can tell him? And do you...got any earned nicknames about which we should be aware to avoid offendin'?"

It would probably take all the daylight to get to their destination. Might as well make some friends and chat a bit. Barring that, Albert could just start telling stories. That might be entertaining.

In reply to Albert Cooper (msg # 15):

"I do know of Reverend Cooper by name and reputation, though I have never met him. Where is he now? I have only good reports of his piety and learning."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 13:54, Fri 26 Jan 2018.

"Oh verily sir, I am well known for my overwhelming pulchritude.  It's the God damned knife gash across the face, that gets 'em every time."  She stared at him like he was an idiot.  But that's just how Kate stared at people... when they annoyed her.  "Well, I reckon she's got a better chance of grazing in my pasture than you do of mounting a post in it, so there's something to be said for her."



Now here was somebody who knew how to get on Kate's good side.  A drag from a cigar, even one of them fancy skinny ones, was a sure bet.

In exchange for her offering, for Kate worked on a prid quo pro basis more often than not, she gave a response that was a little sarcastic but actually helpful... to the informed.

"Well miss, I do reckon if'n there's another broad running around with the audacity to call herself such a thing, I ought to find her and we can form a union."

Jacinta smirked at Kate's quip.  "Could always go 'round recruitin'.  Get together a whole passel of Kansas Kates to terrorize the territory.  All the men would be part fearful, part horny.  If you'll pardon the expression, Padre."   She tipped her hat to Earnest, lips twitching in amusement.

She cast her gaze upon Garrett.  "Ever hunted buffalo before, Mister?  Ain't no small thing.  Especially 'round here."

The ranch hand chuckled at Kate's response to him. "There wasn't really never no doubt about that. And yeah, Char and Moira both liked the knife gash, truly. Don't know what it was 'bout those ladies." He shrugged. "Mebbe they just had good taste."


Albert looked over to the Reverend to answer his question. "Pa's in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, now. Been in the ministry long enough that he and ma are used ta movin' round. Course it made me and my siblings wanna get out on our own sooner'n later so we could settle down in one place. Where all have you been preachin'?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:28, Fri 26 Jan 2018.

Garrett nods. ”It’s most of what I did the last five years in Texas, almost all of it on the Llano, riding with ciboleros. I can earn my keep at it. I’m just looking for a living, not to get rich. It’ll do until some other kind of work comes along.”

“You said you’re a scout, ma’am? You do much work for the army around here?”

His eyes shifted over to Bryan. ”And if you don’t mind me asking, Ranger Lee, should we all be worried about this business you’re doing for the Governor in Lincoln? Some kind of trouble up there?”

Llano = The Llano Estacado, or “Staked Plain”. A desert flatland that occupies a significant portion of western Texas and part of eastern New Mexico.

Cibolero - Mexican buffalo hunters who roamed the Llano Estacado.

"A bit," Jacinta admitted to Garrett.  "Mostly with the 4th Cavalry Regiment.  Never put on the uniform, though.  You rode with the ciboleros?  Not bad, gringo.  Must be good with a rifle, eh?"

Tamsin seemed, on the surface, to be a heavy sleeper. Still out, amidst all the bumps, all the conversation swirling around her- until it turned to the latest mention of trouble. Her eyes snapped open and she glanced over her fellow passengers.

 A couple familiar faces, but it wasn't her place to say hello. That was her rule: she didn't know you unless you said so. Kept everyone out of trouble.

Everyone looked pretty well kept. She had always kept clean (wasn't hard, she lived on a river), but especially so in the last little while. Last time she had been to Lincoln she had heard something new, about how dirty things might make people sick; she wasn't sure how much stock she put into it, but if it might mean less fevers to treat she'd try it.

"Might have somethin' to do with the Tunstall killin'." Jake says with a scowl. "I reckon a Ranger might take the sitiation more seriously than Sheriff Brady seems to. Justice Wilson sounded about ready to hire some of Tunstall's boys to look into things on their own if Brady don't get off his keister, and that might just lead to trouble, like as not." He looked at Bryan. "Is that why you're here?"

In reply to Albert Cooper (msg # 25):

"I'm from Tennessee originally, little town called Parsons, funny enough. After I was ordained at Asburt Seminary in Memphis, I did some assisting at churches in Tennessee, then preached in tribal lands and in some parts of Arkansas -- probably where I heard of your father.

"I've come through Texas lately and now am headed for Lincoln. Are you a church member there, Mr. Cooper? How about you, Mr. McGraw?"

"Actually, I ain't made as much time fer God these days as I should." Jake says. "I can't remember the last time I been to confession."

Albert frowned briefly at the mention of Tunstall's death. "Well, if ya ain't there ta look into Tunstall's death, ya might find out right quick that you'll end up bein' involved. If Judge Wilson has his way, things will turn ugly, fast. Some of Tunstall's boys ain't zactly, er, upstanding citizens."

He looked over to Jake, then back to Bryan. "My uncle says that Tunstall himself was an honest man. His store had a good reputation, and he was generally a good fella. But ya might find a few folk that were herdin' Tunstall cattle what are on the run from the law." He paused. "I hate ta say this, but if yer interested in questionin' folk like that, I suggest not doin' so on yer own. And yeah, that means I volunteer ta watch yer back if ya need it, Ranger. I ain't got nothin' but the highest sort of respect for those that wear your sorta badge."

Albert looked generally toward their destination, then back toward the Ranger. "Course other folk with a badge ain't always worthy. Sheriff Brady seems ta like ta sit on his hands a lot. Not sure if he's incompetent, on the take, or actually knows somethin' most other folks don't. Jury's still sorta out, but he ain't impressed many folk of late. Course that's turned Lincoln into something of a powderkeg as folk get frustrated. Judge Wilson might be about ta toss a match right into the middle of that powderkeg."

He looked around the interior again. "Apologies for those that were thinkin' Lincoln might be a great place to relax."

After saying his piece about the situation, Albert turned back toward Earnest with a smile. "Parsons, eh? I settled down for a bit in Brighton. Bit closer to Memphis." He shook his head when asked about the Lincoln congregation. "I ain't been in town long, Reverend, so haven't been to any services yet. But I'll certainly come see you on Sunday."

Kate wasn't volunteering much either, except when asked or provoked.  But she had seen Tamsin River seated in the cabin earlier.  She wondered if "The Medicine Woman", as the Apache (Was he Apache?  Kate had assumed so but had never asked) had called her, remembered her.

She didn't appear to, or maybe she did and just didn't give a damn.  Kate could live with it either way, and was glad the herbalist was being quiet.  She couldn't hide it  non-stop but the fewer people who knew what was on the back of her right hand the better, especially with all these Bible thumpers riding along.

Still, Kate wasn't upset she was here.  Kate had eaten a buckshot supper and old "Medicine Woman" there had patched her up purty good, could hardly tell it had even happened now.

While fishing out another cigarillo to replace the one she'd given Kate, Jacinta also pulled a small leather-bound notepad.  She flipped through a few pages and ripped out several from the middle, folding them in half.  After returning the notepad to her pocket, she offered the pages to Tamsin.  "Tams, meant to give these to you earlier.  Got what you asked for in my bag.  Potent stuff, that.  Gonna try to grow it in that garden of yours?"

"If you were ridin' on the llano, ain't no man that can ever fault you for bravery. Comanche'll disappear in an' outta that place like it was magic," he said.

"As for what I'm about in Lincoln, Mr. Garrett, I'd say it's likely the same problems that can be found anywhere out on the frontier as near as I can tell based on the information that I have," he said, scratching his chin as he pondered what more to say on the matter. It seemed in short order, though, that there were others who seemed more well informed on the subjects than him, which brought a smile to his lips.

He nodded in response to Jake's question, holding his response while he listened to what Cooper had to say on the matter, smiling and tipping his hat to the man.

"I 'ppreciate the words and the sentiment, Mr. Cooper. You know the sayin' I'm sure. One riot, one Ranger. That's how I've handled it in the past mostly and I hope this case as as simple as most, but there does once in a while come a situation where it's handy to have a few friendly faces. I won't turn one down in a time o' need," he said.

"Yes, I'm here to look into Mr. Tunstall's murder and hopefully to help stem off some local unrest that seems to be croppin' up around the incident and its handling. A couple of you seem a bit more informed on the subject than I am, so I suppose that my first order o' business should be speakin' to you two gentlemen."

Albert noted the attempts to get the third woman to be less mute, Tams maybe? She looked pretty shifty, so Albert was glad he had a pistol on him and a Ranger nearby. It was often the quiet ones what caused the most trouble.

When given the excuse (like when she spoke), his gaze rested on Jacinta for what would probably be a moment or two longer than would otherwise be considered polite. He had to consciously redirect his attention back to Bryan the Ranger when the fellow began to give up a little bit of info.

He nodded at the Ranger motto. "Well, I ain't a ranger, so bringin' me along won't exceed your quota. I've been Ranger backup before, so like I said - call on me at need. As for talkin' to us, well, we've got nothing but time. I was gonna start regalin' folk with stories if there weren't nothin' else ta talk about, but this mebbe is a better use of our time."

Al looked briefly over to Jake then back to Bryan the Ranger. "Informed is mebbe too strong a word? I hear what people are sayin', mostly. Rumors, hearsay, what-have-you. Course there's prolly a lotta truth there, but that's fer the law ta decide. But I'll give you a few more tidbits ta chew on."

Albert licked his lips briefly as he considered where to start, but then he plowed straight in. "So the store that Tunstall runs, it's known ta be quite fair ta folk with the prices, particularly when compared to the competition, which is L.G. Murphy. Murphy's store'll try ta price gouge if there's any kinda shortage, which Tunstall wouldn't generally do. Some might say that sorta practice is just good business. And if we were livin' out East, I might agree a little. But out West, that sorta thing just ain't neighborly. Tunstall was also Murphy's chief competitor for beef contracts out this direction. So he would stand to gain a lot from Tunstall's elimination."

Al paused briefly and frowned, then continued. "Ya heard me say that some of Tunstall's men may be on the run from law. Tunstall himself seemed like a nice fella, but he also seemed ta see the good in people rather than havin' a critical eye, lookin' fer the prollems. Seems like there's some bad apples among his former ranch hands. But I think they all prolly liked Tunstall a lot. If those folk are riled up, they might cause a bit of trouble."

The ranch hand scrunched his brow together as he thought another moment. After a deep breath, more came forth. "Missus McSween, er, Susan, that is, has taken over the runnin' of Tunstall's ranch. You may have heard of her husband, Alexander. He's an attorney at law. He's travelled ta Santa Fe ta speak ta the authorities bout what's goin' on in Lincoln. Mebbe that's how a Ranger got called in?"

The ranch hand shrugged, then added a bit more. "James Dolan, who is Murphy's right hand man has said he wants ta buy the Tunstall ranch. Would sorta give those folks a bit of a stranglehold on beef contracts."

Albert frowned again, then nodded to himself. "Now, don't take any of what I said to be sayin' that either me or my uncle have any sorta conclusions. Henry, my uncle, has been around for quite some time, and he ain't convinced that the folk what're gonna benefit actually were involved. Course he ain't convinced otherwise, neither." Another shrug. "So there ya go. When ya get inta town, ya may wanna talk ta the folk involved, but two other good sources of info are my uncle, and Missus Rentana Montano. She seems to know all the history of the area."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:23, Sun 28 Jan 2018.

"I don't know all that much more, honestly." Jake says. "You are gonna want to talk to Alice Meyers. She works up on the Tunstall ranch." He leans back. "Though thinkin' about it...I've had folk bring me stuff that looked like they'd been sabotaged. It ain't just Tunstall's crew, neither...a lot o' the smaller ranchers and farmers brought me ploughs and wagons with damage that you don't get just workin' out on the range, though they wouldn't tell me the details." He looks at Bryan with a serious expression. "And as fer potential Tuscon business...well, there's a passel o' schoolchildren who pass my shop everyday goin' to school, but on the day I left, they up and went to the church instead. With their parents, which was a trifle new. That struck me as a mite peculiar."