The next morning Ayasha awakes refreshed. She takes another swim in the river, it has been quite some time since she was that clean. Now, with daylight, she realizes that her spot for the night was quite close to a ranch of palefaces, because she can see the buildings in the distance when she looks down the river.

Quickly she makes her way out of the water to avoid being seen. After the first shock has passes, she realizes that there is an opportunity here. There are many horses on that ranch, and she could use a ride to get back to her people. So she decides to go scouting. Instead of her squaw dress she chooses to put on her warrior's loincloth. She leaves everything else hidden below the bushes, then she carefully moves out.

It takes her almost the full day. But during that time she has circled all around the ranch without anyone seeing her, and she found a good approach where she could get in and out quickly during the night.

So she waits until nightfall.

Randy throws a two-punch attack at Archie.  The pugilist chooses to throw non-lethal punches.

08:20, Today: Randy Oldman rolled 13 using 1d20+3. L Fist Attack : Non-lethal.
08:22, Today: Randy Oldman rolled 10 using 1d6+5. L Fist Dmg.

08:19, Today: Randy Oldman rolled 20 using 1d20+3. R Fist Attack : Non-lethal.
08:21, Today: Randy Oldman rolled 9 using 1d6+5. R Fist Dmg.

Randy Oldman and Artemus Carson square off in the bunk room. Travis Sunday, sensing the preamble to a fight, becomes embroiled in the showdown among his pards.

The big man Randy towers over the sitting tribesman, then suddenly lunges forward, leans in and throws a left jab toward Carson's head. The blow lands, but glances off Carson's right ear, prompting the tribesman to act. Deftly, Carson pulls his knife from its sheath and stabs at Randy. The blade catches something--hard to tell whether it is fabric or flesh. The pugilist ignores the knife, swinging again with a right hook, which impacts on Art's left shoulder.

Neither man finds himself seriously injured, at least not yet. Art finds himself off his arse after his attempt to stab Randy, neither sitting nor standing at the moment.

Travis Sunday backs a few steps away, watching the scuffle, for now.

-------------

OOC: State your next full action round actions.
Initiative order is: 1. Art 2. Travis 3. Randy.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #335):

Free Action:  THATS ENOUGH! You fucking MORONS! I swear to God almighty,  I will KILL whoever wins this fight! Now BACK AWAY from each other NOW!

Move Action:  Travis moves away from the fight and looks for something he can use as a club or a bucket of water.

Dumb asses.

Free : "Ha!"
Move : No move, but to stay in range for punching
Combat : Another flurry of punches

His back to his cot where he was sitting, guilty of the crime of voicing an opinion and reeling under the onslaught of the attacking giant Artemus finds he has nowhere to retreat.

Refusing to take a voluntary beating and enduring another flurry of punches from big man he reacts the only way he can.

Free action: (to Travis) You think I have a choice in this?
Move action: Remain backed up to the cot.
Attack action: Counter the punches with knife attack

18:28, Today: Secret Roll: Artemus Carson rolled 9 using 1d20+4. Knife attack.

18:29, Today: Artemus Carson rolled 4 using 1d6. Action Point to knife attack.

18:31, Today: Artemus Carson rolled 3 using 1d4. Potential Knife damage.

Travis Sunday, as frustrated as a man can be, hollers at his pards. His eyes scan the room.

Artemus yells back while continuing to attack with his bowie knife. Randy Oldman, remaining unconcerned about Carson's blade, evades gettin' stuck and then throws two more punches, both connecting. Oldman's right hand glances off Carson's left rib, only a moment before the big man's left uppercut catches the tribesman square in the jaw.

Carson falters. He's somewhere between dazed and knocked-galley-west.

---------

OOC: Please state a full round of action.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:35, Tue 17 May 2011.

Free : "That there's your place, Archie," the bruiser says.
Move : Randy backs off his fighting stance.
Attack : Not the sort of guy who beats a downed man, Randy doesn't throw any punches.

edit: clarity
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Tue 17 May 2011.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #340):

Travis walks over to Art.  He takes his knife and throws it on top of his gear.

He looks at Randy.

Go on now.  You got what you wanted. Clear out and let him get back on his feet.

"Yeah, I ain't gonna beat on no downed man," Randy says boyishly.

"Travis, I tolds him over and again I didn't care none for all that piss and stink in his mouth."  Randy starts to pull off his fine-quality shirt.  "Tell him I is gonna buy him a whiskey and ain't no one gonna hear none this from me."

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #342):

I'll let him know.

Randy takes the opportunity to change all of his clothes.  He dresses in his clean driving duds.  He takes a little time to stow some odds and ends.

Artemus is knocked back on the bed, fatigue and fisticuffs overwhelming him. It’s calm and peaceful here.

But reality soon intrudes and Artemus rights him self. Gesturing with the knife – then looking at his empty hand he extends and regards his index finger.

“You” – Artemus is pointing to an empty spot in the room. He shakes his head and focuses and looks at Travis. “You . . . your word is your bond,” he says matter-of-factly.

Art places his right hand on his chin and works his jaw back and forth as if aligning it.

Spying the big man Art squares himself up and rolls his head around on his neck cracking it.

"That there’s my place." Art laughs and shakes his head. Art points at him and laughs again, sincerely. Seeing the Randy changing his trousers – one leg in, one leg out. - - Turning, bending over and presenting his arse to Randy – Art grasps a cheek in each hand and works them in unison with his voice . . . “I is Randy. I is as stu-stu-stupid as I is hideous!”

Seeing the big man fastening his pants, Art straightens back up and says “Oh!” His eyes widen as if he’s had a profound revelation –“ I’ll bet . . .you’re a bastard; born . . . of a night of whoring your mama had with the town drunk.”

He nods affirmatively and mocks further in a high-pitched voice, “Oh – oh – oh – bugger me again!”

“That there? That’s my place.” Art folds his arms across his chest.

In reply to Artemus Carson (msg #345):

OOC:  Fade to black?

"Travis," Randy says as he's about to leave.  "I thinks that boy needs a baby-buggy.  He might sulk and pout all night."

Randy stops before opening the door, "Archie, if you don't likes losing, you best not give me a reason to best you.  That there's a lesson from the 'stu-stu-stupid' boy who done just that."

Patting his pocket, he concludes, "Who's gonna get a whiskey with me?"

edit: vernacular
This message was last edited by the player at 12:05, Wed 18 May 2011.

OOC: Okay by me.

Neither Artemus nor Travis take up the offer from Randy. The big man leaves the room.

JEB and finally Cole return to the room within the half-hour.

All of the cowboys go about their business for the evening, whether it's resting, eating, carousing or staring at the stars.

A quiet night passes in Abilene, with clumps of gray clouds passing overhead, momentarily obscuring the moon and stars, then just as suddenly revealing their brightness. Ambivalence hangs over the burg; it's as if everyone is watching a roulette wheel and wondering where the ball will land.

------------

Morning comes and the town resumes its business.

The cowboys must vacate the room, or make further arrangements.

Silas Walker's whereabouts are unknown. He never returned after his interview with the Major.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #349):

Travis mounts up and rides with whomever desires to accompany him, first stop is the last known position of Ayasha where if he sees her will offer his respect and any assistance.  Then he'll follow the sun, avoiding Fielder's land and moving west... always west.  He misses the Englishman but the brace of Webleys, soon to adorn his saddle horn will keep him in mind.  Meri would not have wanted him to mourn...too long.  He reminds himself to buy the next bar he visits a round and to spin a tale of the fastest Englishman in the West.

The Duke of Death?
Travis reflects on his time as a "No Buffalo.  He spits and to know one in particular says...

We really went through the Mill on that one.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #350):

"Travis, don't head off so fast.  I gots some supplies to collect then I can leaves."  Randy shuffles about to collect his gear, which was already in fair shape.  "I boughts that horse from Major Gray to give to the girl.  I figgurs that's worth waiting for."

OOC: If Travis is patient enough, Randy scurries to make all of his arrangement come to fruition.  Since all was set up the day before, it shouldn't take most of a half-hour.

As the night fell, Ayasha was already in position. She watches a guard pass by, sunken down on horseback, half asleep. After a few more minutes, she makes her way into the corral. She had already picked a steed during the day that she would take, and quickly she ties a rope around the horse's neck, leading her out of the corral as silently as possible.

A few noises can't be avoided, but the guardsman was far away by now, already out of sight. Still, she doesn't mount the horse yet. Instead she leads the steed to the river, where she ties her up. She gets her few belongings from her hiding place, returns to the horse and finally mounts up, riding through the riverbed to fool anyone who might be following her tracks later.

The steed was a beautifully painted mustang, and she followed Ayasha's commands well. Still, she was not Amitola. Maybe the Major would trade her, that is why Ayasha keeps close to the town. She does not believe that the missing horse would be noticed early, so she can stay another day. She finds herself a place where she is relatively well hidden but can see people coming out of the town. Then she waits.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #349):

JEB searches Drovers for Father Deeds as he had asked to see him before leaving town.

Cole gathers up his belongings and goes down for breakfast.

After a nice leisurely breakfast, Cole pays the proprietor and heads towards the stables.

As he enters the livery, Cole calls out to his dog.

Jack! Time to go!

He then proceeds to saddle up his horses and walk them out of the livery.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #355):

JEB meets up with Father Deeds to make a donation to the church of half his NBO earnings. Father Deeds thanks JEB on behalf of the poor and sensing a little unease in the lawman places a hand on his shoulder while he asks, “Is there anything I can do for you, son?”  Reflecting on his challenging experiences during the cattle drive JEB wonders, “Do you believe God looks after us?” Father Deeds looks at JEB empathetically and responds, “He most certainly does look after us.”  JEB smiles and replies, “I reckon He does. I don’t see how we’d make it a day otherwise.”

JEB says his farewells to the priest and any cowboys of the NBO remaining in town, especially Cole Trayne to whom he extends his gratitude for bringing him the opportunity that has lead to this moment. JEB then mounts his horse and rides east to Kansas City where he will turn south towards home in Marshfield. The plain he rode was golden in the late summer sun and the gold dust he raised powdered the legs of his horse. In the evening he came upon a solitary bull rolling in the dust against the bloodred sunset like an animal in sacrificial torment. This is a fitting close to his first and only cattle drive, he thought. JEB touched the horse with his heels and rode on. He rode with the sun coppering his face and the wind blowing out of the west. Horse and rider passed on with their long shadows in tandem like the shadow of a single being into the darkening land.

After Cole meets with Jeb, he and Jake lead the horses to the guardhouse to retrieve his weapons. He silently nods in appreciation to the men who returns his belongings, as he places them in their respective holsters.

Remembering his trail-mate Meri, he firmly pats Bess on her neck, and slowly mounts up.

Thinking of his friends, he turns her towards the town and quietly speaks as he looks down the thoroughfare.

Good to ride with you boys. Be seeing you on the trail.

Smiling, he tips his hat and turns Bess northwards, putting some distance between Abilene and himself.