Winter in north-central Texas tests a man's resilience.

Travelers find the stagecoach trail half-frozen, cracked with ruts and ditches, on the journey south toward Shackleford County. Finally, in the distance, the army fort atop the hill shines like a beacon for the respite of weary legs, two and four alike.

At the same time, travelers heading north feel the temperature drop steadily over the miles, a reminder of the size of Texas. When men from near the Mexican border--and beyond--reach the northern plains they're glad for their overcoats and dusters.

Most men breathe easier when they're passing through Shackelford County and see the fort on the hill; others choose to give it a wide berth, rather than attract the attention of the cavalry. In either case, the lure of the bustling frontier town, nestled on the flat piece of land adjacent to the fort, can't be denied.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:57, Wed 02 Nov 2011.

Ayasha was packed in warmly with her buffalo robe on her trusty horse. She had been travelling with Travis Sunday for quite a while now, and she trusted him completely - even though she wanted to suggest to go further south for the winter. But she knew the men they were looking for, men she wanted to see again after these many years, would probably be in this part of the land, or they would arrive shortly.

Looking at the fort on the hill, she slowed her horse a little, falling back about one horse-length. "It is probably best I pose as your Indian wife.", she said to Travis with a sad smile. "I doubt I would get a good response if I introduced myself as one of the warriors who defeated yellow-hair."

In reply to Ayasha (msg #3):

Travis smiles a bit.  It's always nice to come in off of the trail.

I don't think you need to pretend to be my wife.  Just tell them you're with me.  That ought to be enough.

He looks about and contemplates the Texans whose company he is about to join.  You're right about Custer though.  Best to keep those stories to yourself.

Best to find a livery, I guess.

Before long, the burg on the flat plain below the Fort comes into view. The Cheyenne and the man from the sixth Michigan take in the landscape as they slow down their mounts over the last mile.

The town is nestled on the south side of the Clear Fork of the Brazos River, with a stream providing a natural border to the west. Two long streets run north/south with buildings dotting the side streets along the grid. From this approach, one can see only the north end of town. Farms and fields flank the stagecoach trail on both sides.

A number of small shacks, tents and lean-tos populate the banks of the river, on both sides of the water but more so to the south. A few fisherman work parts of the river and the stream, even in the January chill. A ford allows crossing and not far past it one can see a cross-street with a large two-story structure painted a striking vermilion, opposite a large lot enclosed by a split-rail fence. The main thoroughfare continues south.

Beyond, the rest of the town's buildings line up in an orderly fashion, at least from a distance. They appear to come in all shapes and states of repair.

"And why do you have a squaw with you?", Ayasha asked, "I would bet with the recent activities in the black hills, people will not be very trusting. I would prefer we had a story straight before we reach the town."

She then grinned playfully at Travis, suggesting: "Maybe you want to tell the story how this squaw saved your butt back in the black hills?"

Suddenly more serious, she asked: "I should probably not appear to be armed, should I?"

In reply to Ayasha (msg #6):

Just tell them we're friends and that we're travelling together.  I'll tell folks how you saved my rump on the trail.

Travis looks over Ayasha.  He inventories her weaponry in his head.

We're not coming to Fort Griffin for the medicinal springs. So I'd stay armed and if you do stay close to me until folks get used to seeing you.

Approaching the river and traversing the ford, the two riders attract some attention of the fisherman and residents among the shacks. No one seems alarmed; stands to reason they've seen visitors before.

Both riders hear a common comment as they pass through the shacks and tents. Something like "Ain't that a squaw?" No one seems in the least bothered, but the question persists.

Clearly, the split-railed property is a wagon yard. Two men work in the yard, repairing a wheel for a wagon parked inside the fence. A hoary draft horse grazes nearby, in front of a small building. A long rail gate swings partially open.

Unless one has a wagon in need of repair, the yard proves worth no more than a glance, because the red building on the left calls out to the two riders now reaching the first notable intersection in town. Well, to be more precise, some women on a balcony call out.

"Welcome to town. Come on in, fellers," says a thin, young woman wearing a coat cut too narrow for a winter's afternoon.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:08, Sat 05 Nov 2011.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #8):

Travis tips his hat, nodding slightly.

Maam.

Horse comes to a stop, allowing his rider to dismount.

We'll need our horses cared for and fed.

Ayasha stayed close to Travis while they were riding into town. She heard the comment, but it did not seem to be as hostile as she expected. She kept her eyes open and took everything in. When they reached the Saloon, she stopped her horse and lifted the buffalo robe from her head, exposing her long black hair. She then sent a disapproving look up to the woman on the balcony.

"I'm not a feller.", she muttered as she dismounted. A little startled by Travis' question, she asked: "Do you want me to do that?"

In reply to Ayasha (msg #10):

Travis stretches a bit shaking the trail out of his body.  He looks to the balcony.

Can you direct us to the livery?

A second woman appears on the balcony. She wears a dress of heavy fabric, with a low cut bodice. She leans over the balcony, showing a notable expanse of cleavage.

Meanwhile, the first woman takes notice of Ayasha, then responds. "I can fetch a boy to take them horses to the livery. Come on in and join us."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #12):

Travis chuckles.

Thank you for the offer, but we'll find it ourselves.

Travis leads Horse into town.

Ayasha shrugs and follows, leading her horse. She was missing the warmth the horse radiated already, and she sent a longing look to the saloon. It surely was warm inside.

A stiff breeze crosses the thoroughfare as Travis and Ayasha lead their horses past the red building. It carries with it a mixture of stale cigar smoke and cheap perfume.

Glancing back at the two-story red building, Ayasha gets a better look at the street entrance under the balcony. Double-doors fill the frame--one of them is closed, the other propped open with what looks like a stack of horseshoes. A sign hangs over the door frame and under the balcony. The Cheyenne recognizes the word "Saloon" but the other writing she cannot understand, even if she were close enough to read it. Indeed, through the door she glimpses the glow of candles and lamps flickering among the saloon's patrons. It is surely warmer inside.

Ahead, Travis Sunday sees more buildings on each side of the thoroughfare, as well as more intersections with side streets. He is passing by a boot maker's shop on the left and he sees Hatfield's restaurant just a little further. Looks like the restaurant is closed. Ahead lies another intersection, with some townsfolk stopping to take stock of the two strangers. Another shifting breeze fills Mr. Sunday's nostrils for just one moment, this time with a strange marriage of baked bread, varnish and smelted iron. Horse snorts.

Moving in the direction of the wind seems right for Randy Oldman.  Aged a little, and sporting a full faceshelf, life looks like it agrees with him.

He thinks it a capital idea to travel to Fort Griffin; seems he's almost called there.

The January northern Texas road is annoying, at best, to traverse.  The workman trudges on with his familiar friend, Fanny, and his new mule, Johnny.  The mule is laden moderately with Randy's additional belongings, work kit and feed for the animals.


OOC: The portrait I submitted isn't available yet.  I'll change to it soon.

When he sees the army fort ahead, Randy Oldman gauges the remaining daylight this winter afternoon. He figures he can reach the fort before sunset; probably make it into town before dark iffin it ain't too far beyond.

Closing the distance to the fort on the hill, Randy spies the buildings--and lamp lights--beyond. Looks like won't have to force Johnny go to any faster to make it there by sundown.

A mounted patrol takes notice of the solitary man and his two beasts, but the soldiers make no movements to intercept or follow.

Soon, Randy sees that the road he follows will take him directly into town; in fact, it looks like the road becomes the main thoroughfare, with a couple of street lamps marking the edge of the town.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #15):

Travis notes a local citizen eyeing him.

Excuse me is there a livery in town which you could recommend?

"Pete Haverty's place," answers the man. "What brings you to The Flat?"

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #19):

We're here to meet up with some old trail mates. Travis says.  Probably need a bed and bath as well, if you have any recommendations. 

Travis points down the main thoroughfare.  Haverty's is down this way?

"Yep. Turn left on fourth street."

Both Travis and Ayasha notice that most of the folks gathered in this intersection have their gazes fixed on the Cheyenne. It ain't exactly starin', but is curious.

Ayasha also notices that the building on the corner where a few folks have congregrated appears to be a bakery. The wind shifts a little, wafting the smell of baked goods for a moment and then the smell of iron the next.

Ayasha feels uncomfortable being stared at by all these white folk, but she does not show it. Instead, she keeps following Travis, always a step behind him. When she smells the baked goods, her stomach growls a little.

"Hmm, that smells good.", she hints.

As it happens, Ayasha also notices a few black folks here, too. And just as she speaks, she sees a short Indian woman among the crowd.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #17):

By the time Randy reaches the edge of town, he feels his dogs barking.  Traveling on wintery roads is difficult.  He recalls it hasn't been as bad as the days in Colorado and California.  It's not always safe to ride a horse on slushy roads.

He brings his beasts in close, so as to not bump a pedestrian or force another rider to the side.

Randy enters the town from the South.  From the lamplight, he reads as many signs as he can.  From shops and hotels to businesses and outfitters--the hodgepodge of establishments is what most towns are looking like these days.

"The Frontier House?" he asks of a passerby.

He's told up yonder is Second Street, the Frontier is to the right.

A few minutes later, Randy stands before this place he's heard of twice before, although in little detail.

As Randy Oldman approaches the intersection of Second Street and Parson, walking with blinders on much like his mule, he sees what looks like a large barn on the corner, partially lit and partially in shadows of the street corner lamp. If it weren't for the crowd of people gathered around the barn, he might have kept looking for the Frontier House.

Drawing close and joining the crowd, Randy hears a mellifluous sound--a voice he remembers from Fort Worth. He can't spy the source, but his ears welcome the sound, until he turns the corner and sees that the people have assembled in front of a porch leading to two 10-feet high ornate doors.

With a skill honed over many such orations, a raven-haired woman tempts and cajoles the crowd with a promising recitation of the night's fare. It seems as if everyone has coins at the ready.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #22):

That does smell good.  I could walk the horses down to the livery and meet you back here or we could go together and then get something to eat.

Pausing to converse, the two riders get a better look at the establishment on the corner.

http://www.doghouserules.net/d...in/StreetScene02.tif

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #27):

Travis begins leading Horse down the street.  The good smells of the bakery eliciting a measure of happiness reflected in a whistled tune from his lips.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #25):

That must be Soledad, because that lovely voice is unmistakable.  Randy looks to the speaker and if the lights play no tricks it must be the lady he encountered last year.

He positions himself for a better view.  I look like the road rode me.  I hope she pays me no mind.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #28):

Travis Sunday continues down the main thoroughare. Ayasha follows. The crowd around the bakery disperses, folks going about their business.

Spying one-story saloons on both sides of the street, the two newcomers notice that soldiers are the predominant patrons this early afternoon. Actually, it seems most of the buildings along this stretch are small saloons dotted with blue uniforms, although an outfitter occupies one of the buildings on the left. And a strong building with a 20-foot long front porch sits on a lot to the right. The shuttered windows and reinforced door differentiate it from the other establishments. Travis sees the modest sign near the door. "Sheriff."

A more sizable saloon anchors the corner of an upcoming intersection. Travis recalls that the feller on the street told him to turn on Fourth Street. The man from the sixth Michigan scratches his head. Is this the third, or fourth intersection so far? Without a signpost to help guide him, he realizes he's only guessing. And he hadn't reasoned to start counting when they rode into town; nor did he know from which end to start the counting.

Fortunately, a simple glance to his left resolves the question. The side street widens just a ways beyond, leading up to a corral and barn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:11, Sun 13 Nov 2011.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #29):

The raven-haired woman's speech draws to a close. It is her, Randy has no doubt. So captivating is her voice that Randy almost misses her actual words. She extols the talents of Muriel and Jules Hervey, on hand for an exclusive engagement. She finishes by singing a brief verse and invites everyone to secure a seat before they're all taken.

Randy has noticed that several of the men in the crowd are soldiers. A tall feller on the porch organizes a line, with the soldiers falling in like they're expecting grub and the rest of the folks following suit.

Soledad ducks behind the tall man, pausing for a moment to look in Randy's direction before disappearing into the Frontier House.

Ayasha sighs as her subtle hint was missed, but she keeps following Travis. All the blue-coats in town make her quite nervous. Who knows what they might do.

When Travis stops to look around, she spies the corral and barn. "I think that there is where we are headed, right?", she says.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #32):

I reckon.  Travis leads Horse to the corral looking for a hired hand or proprietor.

As Travis advances to the square split-rail corral he sees two horses there. Rather than a hired hand or proprietor, a black and white dog greets the two riders. It comes to the gate, wagging a hearty hello, without barking.

The barn itself forms the fourth wall of the corral, which is big enough for a few ponies to mill about, but not big enough to exercise even one.

ENS steps out of the Planter's Hotel, takes a deep breath of the crisp air, and straightens his tie and suit coat. Winter, eh? More like a late spring day in the Alps!

He's either kept to himself, resting up after the road, or been talking to Mr. Keenan, the druggist, during the two days he's been in town. But today he's decided to see what entertainments the town offers. If I winter here, I should ask for work from Mr. Keenan... but not just yet!

He turns and walks briskly towards Griffin Avenue.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:53, Tue 15 Nov 2011.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #34):

Travis lowers himself and allows the dog to smell him through the split rail..

Good boy. He says and scratches behind the ear.

He stands, looks to Ayasha for any indication that she sees anything he may have missed.  Seeing none he raises his voice slightly.

Hello in the livery.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #35):

The young professor walks between the stable on north side of the street and the squat bank on the south, soon finding himself at the corner of Griffin and Fourth. Across the intersection he sees two prominent saloons. One of them belongs to a man named Meyer, ENS recalls, while the other bears the name of an ex-prizefighter, John Shanssey. Although Mr. Keenan told him that much, ENS simply can't recall which saloon is which.

Moving a little closer, the professor sees a sign on hanging over the front porch of the saloon to the north. Shannsey's. Barely noon, but already a handful of men had gathered on the porch. Double doors, propped open, provide ingress from the porch. As ENS approaches to read the sign, one of the men spit over the edge of the porch. The brown paste lands within a meter of the professor's boot.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #36):

The dog, a male, wags its tail again, seemingly looking Travis Sunday directly in the eye. When the man from the sixth Michigan calls out, the dog turns and runs into the barn.

Moments later, a black-haired boy on the verge of adolescence bursts through the barn door, only a step behind the returning stable dog. He slows down and takes in the sight of the two travelers, holding a stiff bristled brush in his right hand.

"Howdy," he says.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #37):

Ignoring the small insult, ENS addresses the men.

Good day gentlemen, would you recommend this place for a good meal?

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #38):

Howdy.

Travis loops Horse's reins over the fence.

We'll need our Horses fed, groomed and looked after.  What's the charge for your services, should you be available young squire?

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #39):

The man who spit answers. "Nope."

The professor catches a glimpse of activity beyond the double doors. Looks like the place is just opening. He sees an ornate bar and what appear to be a few gaming tables.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #40):

"It's 30 cents a night, sir. Fifty if you want 'em groomed." The kid pauses. "But we're near full-up. Do them two . . . get along?" he asks, raising an eyebrow, suggestively.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #41):

To bad, well the whiskey must be good then, right?

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #42):

Travis, decidedly unexpert in animal husbandry, looks to Ayasha then back to the boy.

What are you suggesting?  Sharing a stall?

Travis looks back to Ayasha gross indecision on his face.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #31):

I wonder if she really recognized me.  I'll bet she's invited a bunch of men to the Frontier,  Randy thinks.  Still, she did ask me to come by and she might even talk to me.  Wow, if only.

"Where's a livery?" Randy asks a person in line.

If I get a hustle on, I can be back before the show starts.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #43):

"Beer and other spirits, too," says another man on the porch, with a drawl that is decidedly not Texan. He appears ready to enter the saloon, adding, "Ask for an Orange Effervescing Draught."

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #44):

The boy shifts his feet. "Well, that's up to Mr. Haverty. I'm just askin', is all." He glances between Travis and the Cheyenne.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #45):

A soldier in line speaks up. "Fourth street." He points down the road that Randy has just turned onto--Parsons.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #47):

As if on cue, a man exits the barn. Also black-haired, but apparently not related to the boy, he has the grizzled look of a veteran. A face older than his years. He puts on a cowboy hat as he approaches.

"I'll take it from here, Benny. Get back to work."

He reaches the fence and puts out his hand. "Pete Haverty. Fine mounts you have there, although they have the look of needing some rest."

In reply to Pete Haverty (msg #49):

Yes they do.  We're looking for feeding and grooming for our horses while we visit your fair town.

Travis takes his hand and shakes it firmly.

I understand you're the man to see about that. 

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #46):

Sounds interesting! But perhaps later, I'd better get some lunch before partaking. Any suggestions for a good eatery around here?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:39, Thu 17 Nov 2011.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #50):

The man nods. "You understand correctly. Do you care to put them up for the night? Fifty cents each for boarding, feed and grooming."

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #51):

The men on the porch shrug, or chuckle, or both. One of them offers a kindness to the greenhorn, who's obviously out of his element.

"Hatfield's place ain't bad. Same with Planters. But they won't open till 'round sundown, I reckon. If you need to fill your gut right now, I'd suggest trying the bakery. Or iffin you can find Ned Carter, he might have something. Or up to the corner of First and Parson, you might find some folks selling preserves."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #53):

Thank you gentlemen, I'm sure I'll see you soon!

ENS turns down the street to look for the bakery. Just need some bread to soak up the beer. He'll also look over the other places along the way.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:39, Thu 17 Nov 2011.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #54):

On his way north along Griffin Avenue, the Professor takes note of the establishments. It seems as if half of them are saloons--smaller and less inviting than Shannsey's. Looks like they are just now opening.

Passing a few soldiers, ENS sees that two buildings on each side of the street break the iterations of ramshackle saloons. On the left is a solid structure with barred windows bearing a sign that reads "Sheriff." An unkempt man sits on the porch, eyeing the Professor but saying nothing. Next to the sheriff's ENS spies a blacksmith's shop, with a large, lonely pecan tree between the smithy and a run-down two-story house. Just across the street is another house, in much better repair. And attached to the house, just before the intersection, is a one-story abode with a remarkably clean front porch.

Catching a whiff of soap, ENS takes a second look at the porch. Several large potted plants rest on the wood floor, while other smaller plants hang from the roof, the porch posts and the storefront wall. Most remarkably, two small, stylized lion statues—one male with a ball beneath his paw and one female with a cub huddled under her forepaw—flank the entrance.

Although the Professor might be inclined to investigate further, his nostrils lose the odor of detergent and pick up the smell of fresh-baked sundries wafting from the west. Ah, Woolform's Bakery.

Cole tosses a piece of jerky to his dog. Firmly patting Bess on the side of her neck, Cole glances sidelong at his friend JEB...

What's the first stop? Livery? Sheriff? Or Saloon? I'm right sure you can guess where I'd like to go.

Cole then proceeds to enter the town, guiding his horse towards the first main thoroughfare he sees.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #56):

JEB rides confidently in the saddle as they enter the main thoroughfare of the town. He considers Cole's question for a moment before responding: "We should stay together until we get our bearings. I usually pay my respects to the local law first chance, but since you're a wanted man I think we'll wait awhile. I'll follow your lead."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:45, Fri 18 Nov 2011.

In reply to Pete Haverty (msg #52):

I reckon so.  Might be for more than a night.  Travis fishes in his pocket for a half eagle which he flips to Pete.

This ought to do for both horses for now.

He and Ayasha pull their personal gear.  Travis throws his saddlebags and extra pistols over his shoulder.  Carrying his carbine in his left hand he asks Pete,

Where's a good spot for a bath and a room?

Waiting for an answer, Travis speaks to Horse in Chinese.  Translated:  Yes Daddy loves you.  You stay here.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #57):

Cole Trayne and the sheriff from Missouri find themselves passing through a section of shacks and lean-tos not far from the river. Folks seem busy with their evening chores. Ahead, the men see a large split-rail-enclosed property on the west side of the road. There's no one in the yard, only a wagon and a cart parked inside the fence. A long swinging gate at the edge of the street is closed.

Meanwhile, across the street sits a two-story red building. It calls out to the two riders now reaching the first notable intersection in town. Well, to be more precise, some women on a balcony call out.

"Welcome to town. You fellers look like you could do with puttin' your feet up for a spell," says a thin, young woman wearing a coat cut too narrow for a winter's night.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #58):

Pete Haverty puts the coin in his pocket. He watches as Travis handles his gear.

"Turn around." he answers.

Doing so, Travis sees that directly across the street is a place called Planters Hotel. He can tell by the sign--bearing the image of a bed, next to big bold, black letters spelling out the name--attached to the second floor balcony. The hotel is a long two-story building with an equally long front porch. Alongside the hotel appears to be a well-fortified bunker, until Mr. Sunday spies an unobtrusive and simply engraved wooden sign resting on top of the roof. “F.B. York’s Bank.”

Haverty continues. "There's also the Occidental Hotel over on Griffin. And you can get a bath and a shave over at Earl's. Parson and Third."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #55):

Interesting, chinese guardian lions... I'll definately have to see what that is about. But first, some nice bread! I hope they have a rye.

After one more glance at the lion statues ENS crosses over to the bakery and enters.

Approaching the bakery, ENS finds himself among a small group of townsfolk loitering near the front porch. It seems that their noses may have the same idea as his stomach.

The professor stops for a moment, suddenly aware that no one is entering just yet. Rather, they seem to be waiting for something. Although he shows no sign of this deterring his intended course of action, the pause gives ENS a moment to observe an interesting feature.

Bolted to the porch post nearest the front door is a unique wooden sign, about 3’ x 3’, with a hinge separating two halves. The lower half folds up onto the top half, meeting at a hasp that closes them together. In addition, a large iron triangle hangs close to the same pole. Curious.

A dumpy fellow with a black handlebar mustache steps out onto the porch, holding a large metal utensil. He begins to clang the triangle like he's warning folks about an approaching Blue Norther. ENS takes a few steps back, reflexively, to ease the burden on his ears. When the dumpy fellow finishes ringing the triangle he releases the hasp and flips down the hinged sign, which reads “Fresh Bread Now” in fancy whitewash letters.

The townsfolk press toward the porch. ENS now finds himself at the front of the group advancing to the bakery's entrance.

http://www.doghouserules.net/d...in/StreetScene02.tif

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #48):

"I'm thankful," says Randy.

He hustles down to the livery--riding Fanny and Johnny in tow.  The boxer knows his time is limited to get in to the show.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #63):

Randy Oldman reaches the livery without delay. Stopping in front of a small corral, the big man sees a cowpoke sitting on a rail, whittling by the lamp light.

The man wears a weathered cowboy hat, with graying braids spilling out from beneath. He looks up, taking notice of Randy but saying nothing.

In reply to Pete Haverty (msg #60):

Travis looks at the hotel, then Ayasha.  He shrugs his shoulders as if to ask her thoughts on the subject.

So how do the clientele for the Occidental and Planters differ?

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #65):

Unable to contain himself, the boy named Benny appears at the barn entrance.

"Not sure how they differ, but neither hotel boards horses. Just people." he calls out, confidently.

Haverty, who had paused to consider Mr. Sunday's question, laughs and turns to Benny.

"I told you to get back to work, son. This is no time for trying out new jokes."

After the boy sulks back into the barn, the stable owner speaks in lower tones. "He's a funny kid. Ain't much difference between the two. Planters has baths and an eatery; the Occidental doesn't. That's why I mentioned Earl's."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #64):

"Excuse me mister," Randy says as he dismounts.  "I'm in a hurry to stash these animals for the night.  The mule's got all my gear on it."

Walking toward the man, Randy asks, "How much to stable them for the night along with my stuff?"

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #68):

The man with the braids looks up. "One dollar a night for both, including grooming. Your gear is okay."

In reply to Pete Haverty (msg #67):

Travis tips his hat.  We'll try Planters.  Thank you sir.

Well Ayasha what do you think about some hot food, a bath and a bed?

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #59):

JEB stops and tips his hat at the young woman: "we could use a hot bath, stiff drink and a home cooked meal, miss."

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #57):

Cole shrugs

 I don't reckon anyone is looking for me, down here. 'Sides, it was a righteous shoot. I'm sure the law back there got real criminals to chase.

Anyway, if you were leaving it up to me, then let's go get some decent home cooking?

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #59):

Cole glances up at the woman and smiles.

Got business right now darlin', but we'll be back. What's your name?

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #71) and Cole Trayne (msg #72):

The young woman on the balcony responds to JEB. "Can't help you with the bath or the meal, but a stiff one sounds just right. Come on in."

To Cole she answers, "I'll get Lizzie to meet you at the door."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #62):

ENS enters the store. Feeling the press of the crowd, he doesn't look around too much, but heads straight to the counter. Fresh bread is wonderful, but Mein Gott!
This message was last edited by the player at 16:23, Sat 19 Nov 2011.

Ayasha smiles when she sees the dog and hands the reins of her horse over to Travis. She then walks forward and pets the dog. It's much easier to make friends with animals than with people, especially if they're white.

She then takes the reins of the horses herself and watches Travis greet the dog. When the boy appears, she takes a step back behind Travis and lets him do the talking. When Travis asks her about the horses, the pets both on their snouts. "These two will get along nicely.", she decides. Both animals seem to nod in agreement.

A bath would really be nice right about now. "I'd like a bath, and you need a shave - in addition to a bath.", she says. "Something to eat would be nice, too.", she adds with a smile.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #75):

The young professor approaches a long glass-fronted display counter showing off the appealing variety of available baked goods. Fresh items are displayed on the top shelf while the bottom shelf has a random selection of day-old (or older) items for half-price or less. A bell with handle rests alongside a shiny cash register on top of the display case. A few old utensils, pie pans, artistic wrought-metal designs and other knick-knacks hang on the walls.

The patrons remain quite orderly. In fact, two men sit down at a table and chairs sit in the southeast corner, across from the entryway to the kitchen. No one steps in front of the new guest.

The jolly man with the handlebar mustache smiles at ENS, who is at the front of the line. "What is your pleasure, sir?" he asks, with a recognizable French accent.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #74):

Cole glances towards JEB slowly shakes his head.

Didn't I just tell her we would be back? Hard headed women. Oh well, let's go see what she its offering?

Cole walks to the door and waits.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #78):

JEB remains mounted while Cole talks with the Lizzie.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #77):

[in french]You are a long way from France my friend, but do you have a nice rye bread perchance?[/french]

ENS takes the chance to look around the store.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:14, Sun 20 Nov 2011.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #69):

Randy grimaces at the cost.  It's not that it's too expensive, the price is fair, he just has limited means.

Regardless, he produces the dollar.  He pushes his two pistols in the bags just before leaving to hustle back to the Frontier House.

(OOC: Randy 'hustles' at a x3 pace.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #76):

Let's try the Planters across the street.  If that's OK with youu.  It's closer to the horses and has its own bath.

If Ayasha concurs, Travis moseys over to the Planters Hotel.

"Sounds good to me.", Ayasha agrees. She takes her belongings, including the carbine, which she wraps into her Buffalo Robe. Her Schofield is packed away with her summer dress anyways. It is probably better to keep that secret for the time being.

She looks at Travis, waiting for him to lead the way.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:12, Sun 20 Nov 2011.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #82):

Travis crosses the street and enters the Planters.  Looking for a front desk he surveys the interior.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #78):

“Within the hive, we are alive; Good whiskey makes us funny. Get your horse tied, come inside and taste the flavor of our honey.”

So reads the sign over the entrance to the Beehive Saloon. Cole Trayne dismounts near the double-door entryway; one door is closed, the other propped open with what looks like a stack of horseshoes. A waft of stale tobacco and cheap perfume assaults his nose. Through the door the trail hand observes a busy saloon, where men drink and gamble under the light and warmth of a 5-foot diameter chandelier suspended by long chains hanging from the roof and extending just below the railing of the upper floor.

Cole sees a young woman stop at a table closest to the entrance. She waves, inviting him to enter.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #80):

The plump fellow shrugs. "Mais non, monsieur."

He selects a fresh loaf and offers it to ENS. "If you like rye, you will like this. Ten cents."

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #84):

Ayasha follows right after Travis, struggling a little with her gear. It would really be good to get a room to store most of it.

The man with the braids accepts Randy's coin and takes the animals inside the corral.

Hustling back to the Frontier House, Randy finds the line outside is gone, but large double-doors remain open, with the buzz of patrons now coming from inside the place.

Stepping up, the big man finds himself in a large, airy chamber. He takes a moment to soak in the place, which reminds him of a fancy saloon in San Antone. A huge kerosene lamp chandelier hangs high overhead, providing dim mood lighting for the hall. Meanwhile, a deep-red carpet covers the entire floor and velvet-flocked wallpaper covers the walls. Velvet-upholstered, thickly padded, comfy chairs sit in each of the front corners, near the windows.

Twin staircases, one along the left wall and one along the right wall, rise 10 feet to the balcony seating area. Red velvet ropes cordon off the stairs. Adorning the walls along the staircases are various tapestries and paintings.

Directly across from the entryway is an impressive, horseshoe shaped bar. The bar looks new; it's made from beautiful cherry wood, with highly polished brass fittings. Four vintage muskets and a large buffalo-head line the wall space above the bar and beneath the balcony. Mounted on the wall behind the bar (beneath the buffalo head) are matching cherry-wood cabinets holding a variety of bottles, brick-a-brack and mugs.

The soldiers and townsfolk are milling about, drinking from metal mugs and wooden flagons. Randy spies a short line at the bar, where a friendly fellow with a handlebar mustache appears to be selling tickets to the show.  As the big man joins the line his mouth waters, involuntarily, as he notices a number of wooden bowls on top of the bar, filled with nuts and pretzels.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #87):

The travelers approach the long hotel porch, where a few folks are sitting and enjoying the crisp air, seated among eight armless wooden chairs, placed in four sets of two with small tables with oil lamps between them. In the middle of the porch, opening outward but closed, are double doors with glass windows on the upper half. Several glass paned windows line the front wall of the Hotel.

The first thing that Travis and Ayasha notice upon opening the doors to the hotel is a grand staircase dominating the lobby. Almost 20 feet away from the entry doors, the 8’ wide stairway leads up to the second floor. The Hotel’s front desk lies immediately to the right of the entrance with a sitting area beyond the desk and to the right of the stairs. A knee-wall on the left separates the lobby from the eatery, empty at present, with a gap in the middle providing passage. On the lobby side of the knee-wall, just inside the Hotel entrance, sits an upholstered chair with an accompanying end table and spittoon.

"Howdy!" says a woman behind the desk. She has a pleasant visage, her light brown hair tied in a bun and her green eyes gleaming. A moment later, a young man in a bellman's suit appears from near the stairs. He nods politely.

http://www.doghouserules.net/d...in/PlantersHotel.tif
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:13, Sun 20 Nov 2011.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #85):

JEB shakes his head watching Cole enter the saloon. He dismounts, ties up the horses at the hitching post and follows Cole inside.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #86):

ENS takes the proffered loaf and pays the man with a smile.

If this crowd is any indication, I'm sure I will! Do you, perchance, have any butter available?

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #91):

The frenchman scoops a dollop of butter on the end of the loaf, and then begins to serve the next person in line. ENS finds nothing else in the small storefront that is worthy of note.

As soon as he exits the establishment, the professor glances further west and his eyes follow a beaten path beyond the end of the road, toward the stream. Looks like a nice place to relax and eat a chunk of bread.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #90):

Glancing back at JEB, Cole grins.

Just a quick drink. Then, we can head out. 'Sides, it never hurts to get the lay of the land when coming to a new town.

Cole walks on in.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #89):

Travis eyes the bellhop as if he's a bit out of place.

Perhaps I'm in the wrong place.

Maam.  Travis tips his hat to the woman.

We're fresh off the trail and looking for rooms, baths and clothes washed.  You were recommended as an establishment that could accomodate our requests and that your rates are comparable with the Occidental. 

Travis smiles, and removes his hat.

Is my information correct?

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #90) and Cole Trayne (msg #93):

JEB also reads the sign above the entrance. He notices two oil lanterns hanging on either side of the porch’s doorway, covered with a mesh wire painted red like the walls. As twilight turns to dusk, these lamps give a soft red glow.

Cole enters first and gets a better view of the Beehive. Six round tables scattered around the center of the wooden floor attract the cowboy's attention, providing ample space for the various card games that are underway. Meanwhile, a rectangular table devoted to dice games rests near the side of the staircase leading to the second floor (on the right-hand wall near the plain fireplace, where a small fire burns). The chandelier's chains run clear up to the second floor ceiling--the second floor being a balcony, or loft, that runs around the entire place.

JEB looks over Cole's left shoulder. A long, cedar bar dominates the left wall of the saloon, joining with a few ground floor rooms on the back wall. A large, plain mirror hangs on the wall behind the bar, with four glass shelves affixed directly to it. These shelves hold a number of beer glasses, flutes and shot glasses, as well as a display of liquor bottles.

"Make yourself at home," says the young woman, wearing too little for a winter evening. She pats the nearest man on the shoulder and moves toward the bar, gesturing again for the men to follow.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #94):

The woman smiles at Mr. Sunday like he's a long-lost cousin. He sees that she is probably a few years his senior, but quite warm and still attractive.

"As right as a trivet, sir. Welcome." she says. "Come on over and we'll get you signed in. I'm Mrs. Swartz."

She stands behind a long, reverse L-shaped front desk. The base of the desk is fashioned from pine and stained a deep brown, while the overlapping top is of high quality lacquered oak. A guest sign-in book rests in the middle of the long section of the desktop, along with a quill pen in a holder affixed to the desk next to a small ink well. Mrs. Swartz proffers the pen to the man from the sixth Michigan. A small wooden-handled brass bell sits next to the guest book. A ceramic cobalt vase, containing fresh cut flowers, rests near the wall end of the desk while an oil lamp and a small framed sign occupy the other end (in the crook of the “L.”

While Travis talks to the woman, Ayasha glances again at the eatery. Even the empty tables remind her stomach to growl. The four circular tables against the front porch wall have four armless wooden chairs, all of which appear to be in decent condition. Two long tables toward the interior have benches instead of chairs. Three unadorned windows on the north wall, two on the south wall and one on the east wall allow plenty of air and light into the room.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #92):

After thanking the proprieter, ENS makes his way to the stream and looks for a nice dry spot in the sun to sit and try the bread. As he sits, his thoughts wander back to the place with the lions. I'll bet that's a Chinese laundry, might be a good place to get some Mandarin practice... This place has quite a variety of folks!
This message was last edited by the player at 20:00, Mon 21 Nov 2011.

In reply to Estelle Swartz (msg #96):

What are the going rates Mrs Swartz? Travis signs the ledger.

T. Sunday, Ann Arbor Michigan

Ayasha stands awkwardly behind Travis, still holding her belongings. She can feel her stomach demand food, but she is preoccupied with the problem of signing in, because she cannot write.

"I can't sign in.", she whispers to Travis.

Looking around, she can't help but think: The palefaces surely know how to build tepees.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #95):

JEB follows the woman to the bar and takes a long look at the man she patted on the shoulder for anything out of the ordinary (OOC: please provide a description; let me know if a roll is required.).

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #88):

"This is more like it," Randy remarks to no one in particular.  It's not that he's never been in a place like this.  No, he has dined and lunched in similar locations on occasion back West.  This is the mark of civilization Randy likes the most: crowds, cries and cash.  It used to be they all arrived for him.

Running his fingers through his wiry face-shelf to force it under control.  It's been quite a few days since a shave and a beard is emerging from places it shouldn't.

Drinking isn't on his mind.  Actually, he's stopped thinking about it all together since San Francisco.  Opium killed his taste for any other intoxicant--for which Randy is glad.

Food, however, is never far from Randy's mind.  He swaggers to the bar.  When the barkeep notices him, he ask for some sort of food.  "Anything," he says, "will be of great relief."  The bruiser rubs his belly and smiles politely.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #100):

As Cole finds himself slowly taking in the sights, he notices with a wry grin that JEB has preceded him to the bar.

He then follows the sheriff and takes a seat next to him.

Glancing at the woman that led the way.

Two beers, ma'am. And I wouldn't mind to know who was nice enough to invite us in?

In reply to Ayasha (msg #99):

I'll sign for both of us.  Don't worry.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #97):

The young professor enjoys his time near the stream. The afternoon sun warms the bones just enough to make for a pleasant rest. After he has eaten his fill, the Professor concludes that it is best to continue to survey the town.

This place has quite a variety of folks! he thinks. Jet Keenan, the ex-fighter Shannsey, the French baker, the Swartzes, Clampitt, Pete Haverty, the as-yet-unmet Chinese . . .

Taking out his notebook, the professor walks around town, noting the locations of several intriguing establishments. The Beehive Saloon. Frontier House. The Northwest Texas Cattle Association, Earl's Shave and Bathe. The AME Church. Owsley's Eatery and Boarding. Not to mention several quaint homes and a variety of mere shacks that might house any number of interesting citizens.

Before he knows it, ENS has consumed the afternoon. Time to return to the hotel for a proper meal. And perhaps another foray into town that evening.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #103):

Mrs. Swartz reads the ledger upside down.

"Mr. Sunday, that depends on what sort of room you might require." She pauses for a moment, smiling, but obviously slightly hesitant. "That is to say, to start, do you require one room, or two?" she asks, glancing at Ayasha and then back to Travis. Although she visibly hesitated, she shows no signs of anxiety. Travis gets the impression of tact from her tone, rather than insult.

The young bellman shifts his weight from foot-to-foot.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #101):
As it happens, when Randy Oldman looks up and lets his stomach move his lips, he finds that it is Soledad at the bar. He can't stop the words coming out. Not that he said anything inappropriate, but his first words to her might have been better voiced.

She smiles and winks, gesturing towards the bowls full of nuts and pretzels. "Help yourself. A drink?"

http://www.doghouserules.net/d...frontierhouse1a.tiff

EDIT: added map
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:01, Tue 22 Nov 2011.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #100) and Cole Trayne (msg #102):

JEB follows the young woman and reaches the bar, followed by Cole, A man who's been on the trail for a while has to admit that the woman's scent alone proves intoxicating.

Seeing that JEB's attention is focused elsewhere, she turns to Cole just as he speaks. Her lips curl like she just tasted something sweet. With a turn toward the bar, she summons the attention of a smartly-dressed young man tending. "Two beers," she says with words and fingers. "Anything else?" she adds, meeting Cole's eyes and leaning against the bar. "I mean, I could show you upstairs to meet her."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #104):

His Theology studies getting the best of him, ENS pauses to step into the AME church for a quick look around...

In reply to Estelle Swartz (msg #105):

Two rooms please, on my bill, and please call me Travis.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #109):

"Of course," Mrs. Swartz answers, as if it were a foregone conclusion. "And am I right to think you would prefer average rooms?" She glances at Travis, then down at her ledger.

http://www.doghouserules.net/d.../goin/planters1a.pdf

Ayasha notices that the bellhop, remaining alert, might be staring at her.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:57, Tue 22 Nov 2011.

In reply to Estelle Swartz (msg #110):

Travis looks at the bellhop and gently clears his throat.

His attention then returns to Estelle.

"Average rooms will be fine."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:38, Tue 22 Nov 2011.

In reply to Soledad Sanchez (msg #106):

Randy's eyes flare.  He's truly taken aback, with more force than a heavyweight fighter.  "Miss Sanchez, uhm," he stammers.  "My please is your pleasure to me to see you again."  Discombobulated?

His dusty hat hangs in his hand.  Upon realizing it is HER, Randy swings the hat to his chest to cover the stains of sweat and grime.  Even more furiously, he fusses with his appearance.

"A water drink, yes, a drink of water would be good."  His composure, pallor and eyes relax.

"Hi, Miss Sanchez, I'm Randy from the Fort Worth.  You told me to visit.  Thanks."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #107):

Satisfied nothing seems out of the ordinary at the moment, JEB turns his attention to the woman: "Just the drinks and a stool for now, miss. And a tab at the bar, if you please."

Ayasha feels the boy in the strange dress stare at her before she sees it. That is something she would have to get used to. She looks at him and smiles, knowing that it's probably just curiosity.

"Thank you, Travis.", she whispers to him, "I'll pay you back."

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #108):

Having satisfied his need to explore, ENS checks his watch...

Just about dinner time, better head back.

He turns and heads back to the Planter's Hotel.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #114):

Ayasha. Travis looks surprised.  There are no debts between friends.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #113):

Cole glances at JEB, then back at the woman. Inclining his head towards her, Cole smiles.

Reckon some drinks will do.... For now. Much obliged.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #111):

"The only two I have together are right here on this floor. Will that do?"

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #112):

The raven-haired woman laughs. Not mocking, rather it seems Randy amuses her. "I remember you, of course." she says, pouring water from a pitcher into a wooden mug. "I am glad you came. Here to see the show?"

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #113) and Cole Trayne (msg #117):

"You just tell Elias when you're ready," answers the young woman. Turning, she glances around the saloon and then saunters over to one of the gaming tables.

Before long, the smartly-dressed young man walks over with two beers, setting them on the bar.

"Here you are, friends," he begins. "Welcome to the Beehive Saloon. I'm Elias Bennington. I see a few seats at the tables. Are you interested?"

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #115):

ENS returns to the hotel. He finds the eatery half-filled. The meal hasn't yet begun, but the smell of food permeates the room and it shouldn't be long now, he figures. Finding a place to sit at one of round tables, ENS finds himself in the company of two men from Kansas, here to ascertain the prospects for a business venture.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #116):

"No debts, no.", Ayasha replies. "Forgive me." She smiles at him trustingly.

Noticing that someone has entered the hotel, Ayasha quickly checks the man out, but he does not seem dangerous. So she returns her glance to Travis.

"Why is that boy dressed so strangely?", she asks, her eyes pointing out the bell boy.

In reply to Soledad Sanchez (msg #119):

"Yes Ma'am."  Randy responds respectfully.  "I had a chance to spend a short amount of time with the Hervey's in San Antone.  They invited me here also."

The big feller accepts the mug of water with a smile and a nod.  "I actually arrived in town not fifteen minutes ago.  If it wasn't for your pretty voice outside, I might have walked on out of town.

"I feel honored you remember me from such a short meeting so long ago."

In reply to Ayasha (msg #122):

That is his uniform indicating he assists guests during their stay.  In large cities the uniform is helpful to identify hotel employees.  Here I reckon it's a sign of... my civilization and that one should expect decent service.

In reply to Estelle Swartz (msg #118):

Yes.  That will be fine.  Thank you.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #124):

"What kind of assisting does he do?", Ayasha asks, still carrying all her personal belongings, which are starting to get heavy.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #125):

"Very well, Mr. Sunday . . . my apologies . . .  Travis." She offers a polite shrug. "Habits are hard to break, you know." She makes notes in her ledger.

"That comes to $2.20 per night, total for both rooms. Your first breakfast is complimentary," she adds, handing two wooden tokens to Travis. "Would you like to pay by the day, or for multiple days in advance?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:07, Wed 23 Nov 2011.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #126):

Noticing that Ayasha is struggling with her gear, the young man in the strange clothing advances, having snapped out of his trance.

"May I help you, ma'am?"

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #123):

Soledad makes a face when Randy mentions the Herveys, but resumes her demeanor quickly. "Did they?"

She continues to listen while she serves a drink to another patron, then moves closer again to Randy. "It would be difficult to forget a man of your stature. I am glad you came. Have you purchased a seat yet?" she asks, inclining her head towards the mustached man at the end of the bar. Randy sees that the line has diminished, with a solitary man apparently haggling over the ticket price.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #128):

Ayasha looks a little confused at first, but then she adds one and one together. "Oh, of course.", she says, handing her belongings over to the boy. She makes sure to 'load' him in such a way that he does not realize that there are weapons hidden in the stuff.

She then shakes out her arms and looks at the boy expectantly, wondering what would happen next.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #130):

Travis nods approvingly at Ayasha who seems to have figured out the role of bellhop.

Travis reaches in his pocket and brings forth a golden eagle.

We are unsure how long we'll be in town.  He places the coin on the counter.

This ought to get us started.  We'll give a full days advance notice of our departure.Anything beyond that we'll expect a refund for prepayments made.

Travis looks up at the proprietor.

Fair?

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #121):

ENS enjoys a pleasant meal in the company of the businessmen, then retires to his room to freshen up before heading out to the Frontier House for the evening's show.

He greets the ever-present caretakers of the hotel on his way out.
Have a nice evening Mrs Swartz, Teddy.

In reply to Soledad Sanchez (msg #129):

"No, Ma'am, no seat yet.  I just walked in and was overwhelmed by this place.  Like some I saw in San Francisco, maybe even nicer."

Now, the look on the woman's face sunk into Randy's noggin.  "Did I offend you, Miss Sanchez?  I only play acted for an afternoon with them."

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #131) and Ayasha (msg #130):

"Quite equitable, Mist . . . Travis," answers the sweeter than pecan pie Mrs. Swartz.

Already, the young man has started walking toward the hall just behind the desk, laden with Ayasha's gear. He deftly relieves Mrs. Swartz of the key she produces and opens one of the doors along the hall, setting the gear on the bed. Travis sees the room numbers: 8 and 9.

"Please ask if you have any needs during our stay. Either Teddy or I will be here most of the time."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:52, Wed 23 Nov 2011.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #132):

"Enjoy the night air, Professor," says Estelle, looking up from her book.

In reply to Estelle Swartz (msg #135):

Teddy, who is cleaning up after the evening meal, calls out with a simple "Good night, sir."

ENS exits the hotel. He finds the porch mostly empty, except for the two businessmen who are smoking cigars near the end next to the bank.

He knows the way to the Frontier House and lands on the porch step in no time, seeing through the large open doorway into an antechamber filled with patrons awaiting the start of the show.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #133):

"I am not so easily offended, senor. Stay here when the curtains open. I will take care of you."

Soledad turns her attention towards two soldiers ordering mezcal. Randy watches and listens as she speaks to the men in blue. He sees how they smile. One of them, a young feller, even stammers a mite. She then moves on to other patrons around the horseshoe bar.

Ayasha follows the boy to the room where he delivers her belongings to the bed. She takes a good look around and looks out the window to see what's behind the glass.

She then returns to Travis. "Will our stuff be safe here? And did you ask about the bath?"

In reply to Teddy Fargas (msg #136):

ENS straightens his tie, then proceeds into the establishment. It's been awhile since I've taken in a show.

He pauses inside for a look around. Now, where to get a ticket?

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #139):

ENS peers past soldiers and townsfolk milling about and drinking.  Directly across from the entryway he sees an impressive, horseshoe shaped bar. The bar looks new; it's made from beautiful cherry wood, with highly polished brass fittings. Four vintage muskets and a large buffalo-head line the wall space above the bar and beneath the balcony. At the end of the bar, the professor fins a friendly fellow with a handlebar mustache, who appears to be haggling with a patron over the ticket price to the show.
----------------

OOC: see msg 88 and 106 for more information, including map link in the latter.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #140):

ENS moves up to the ticket man and waits his turn. Looking around at the folks near him while he waits. He'll also keep an ear out for what price the haggler gets.

In reply to Soledad Sanchez (msg #137):

He hasn't been down on his luck, but Randy wonders how he got so fortunate to meet Soledad Sanchez.

She saw me fight in Fort Worth.  I wonder if she wants to manage fights here.  She must have a plan; I like plans.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #141) and Randy Oldman (msg #142):

The young professor works his way through the crowd, landing at the bar near the man with the mustache. He sees a mix of patrons: soldiers, townsfolk and visitors like himself. A few people warrant a second look, including two tall men whose heads raise above the rest of the folks, including one standing at the bar quite close to him, and another standing against a wall. A woman behind the bar can't be missed, she is the comely black-haired woman that ENS listened to earlier in the day.

Arriving just a few moments too late to hear the result of previous customer's haggling, ENS finds himself next in line.

Meanwhile, Randy Oldman sips his water and ponders his situation, noticing a shorter man, clean-shaven and wearing a suit, stepping up to the man with the mustache, apparently ready to buy a seat for the show.

http://www.doghouserules.net/d.../UncleBillyAtBar.tif
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:58, Fri 25 Nov 2011.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #143):

OOC: Please note the new profile pic.  That's the look Randy sports now.  The style of beard is called a face shelf.


Big is a good word to describe Randy, but right now, he isn't menacing.  He seems fidgety while speaking with the raven-haired beauty behind the bar.

Realizing the show won't start for a little while, Randy decides to show the woman he's friendly and generally a good egg.  He spots the dapper man buying his ticket.  Randy nods and tips his cup.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #144):

ENS nods back to the large man at the bar and then turns to the ticket man.

Hello me my good man, so what is this evening's show and how much is it?

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #145):

"My good fellow, you have the pleasure of attending our incomparable . . . no, I daresay unequaled . . . variety show and escapades. One hasn't lived until hearing the angelic voice of Marvelous Muriel Hervey. You will not be disappointed. I shall stake my reputation on these words."

The man's voice is clearly heard among the patrons. People pipe down to hear his oration, and, as he concludes, a soldier at the bar exclaims, "To Uncle Billy!" Numerous mugs and flagons are drained.

"Now then, good sir, a man of your carriage and obvious good breeding would surely prefer a balcony seat. A mere four-bits."

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #117):

JEB enjoys his first hard drink in a quite awhile, then turns to Cole: "Let's move on and get to know the town a bit."

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #147):

Cole looks slightly disappointed, but he nods his head reluctantly.

One drink? I was hoping to do a bit more damage before we moved on. I'm powerful thirsty and the scenery here is a might more attractive than any found on the trail. But, I suppose the place is not going anywhere.

Cole turns to Mr. Bennington

Much obliged sir, but it seems like my friend here has something else in mind. I suspect we will be back soon, though.

When the opportunity presents itself, Cole pays for their drinks, stands, and waits for JEB to lead the way.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:12, Sun 27 Nov 2011.

In reply to Uncle Billy (msg #146):

Quite a fair price and a fine oratory from one obviously well liked by the crowd! I'll have one please.

ENS hads over the 50 cents.

Tell me sir, are you the proprieter of this establishment?
This message was last edited by the player at 18:07, Sat 26 Nov 2011.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #149):

"At your service, sir. As I suspect you may have surmised, they call me Uncle Billy." Taking the four bits, he hands the young professor a small painted token.

"It is an honor to have you as our guest at the Frontier House. By what appellation shall we address you, my good man?"

Randy watches the dapper man and the tall moustachioed man talk.  Every now and again, he catches a word above the clamor of crowd.  Disconnected, the words mean absolutely nothing.

He sips and watches other folks as well.

In reply to Uncle Billy (msg #150):

I am Professor Eugene N. S. Ringgenberg, sir. But you may call me ENS.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #151) and E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #152):

Uncle Billy gives a slight bow. His hands are full with the cash box. He closes it up and hands it over to Soledad.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, ENS. Enjoy the show." Taking a deep breath, Uncle Billy proclaims for all to hear, "Last call for the floor!"

Patrons advance on the bar for one last drink. The proprietor lifts a hinge in the bar and ducks under, to help the raven-haired woman with the last orders. He mentions a fact to ENS before he begins serving the soldiers and townies.

"Manuel will serve you in the balcony, my good man, so no need to rush an order yourself."

Meanwhile, Randy gets a good look at the other tall fellow in the room. The pugilist gets the feeling the man might work here.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:11, Sun 27 Nov 2011.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #148):

JEB and Cole mount up and ride into town, JEB paying particular attention to the location of the sheriff's office and stables.

Randy's excitement is growing.  He nearly swoons over the idea of Soledad Sanchez taking personal attention to him.  Also, he is eager to see the folks with whom he play-fought some months before.

Luck goes up and luck goes down, but never in equal swing.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #138):

I think our gear will be safe, though I'll keep my most valuable belongings with me.  I'll probably check some weapons with the local constabulary, jjust to reduce temptation.

So bath or food first?

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #154):

JEB and Cole move from the Beehive's bar to the front door, seeing three young cavalrymen enter the establishment. All three are laughing, and looking for a good time it seems.

As the two men exit, they see two additional young soldiers, standing quite close to the Bess and Diablo.

"Yeah, I reckon this stud was somethin' . . . in his day," says one of the soldiers. The other man, seeing JEB and Cole approaching, asks "These yer ponies?"

Before long the red curtains are opened, giving way to the ground floor of the Frontier House theater. Those with tokens for the ground floor finish their drinks and set their mugs on the bar, or take their newly purchased beverage with them, as they pass through and find seats.

The balcony patrons take to the stairs; other than ENS, they include only a well-dressed man and woman. Ahead of ENS, they give their tokens to the tall man who has positioned himself at the top of the stairs. He shows them through the second closest curtain, saying that Manuel will be serving them.

Taking the professor's token, the tall man opens the nearest curtain and says, "Here you are. Manuel will be serving you."

Randy waits as he was told. Soon enough, most folks have filed into the theater and taken a seat. Soledad motions for the big man to follow, and then she escorts him up the stairs and into the first balcony, where he sees the dapper man is just taking a seat.

http://www.doghouserules.net/d...frontierhouse1b.tiff
http://www.doghouserules.net/d...frontierhouse2a.tiff

"Senors, I hope you enjoy the show," says Soledad, leaving the professor and the pugilist to make their own introductions.

They find themselves in a small box, with two rows of two seats each. The seats look like a tight fight for Randy, but they sure look comfortable.

In reply to Soledad Sanchez (msg #159):

"This is a swank place, isn't it?" Randy asks rhetorically.

His face beaming, the pugilist takes the quick opportunity to acquaint himself with his row-mate.  "I'm Randy Oldman.  I heard you talking like a man of Words, is that what they say?"

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #157):

Cole approaches the horses, pats both Diablo and Bess, then turns towards the soldiers. With a friendly smile, Cole replies.

Yup, in fact, he still has some fire in his belly. As horses go, a man could do worse. She ain't too bad herself.

Cole then pats Bess one more time.

Cole then takes a closer look at the soldiers trying to determine if they are green or experienced men.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #156):

Ayasha looks worried as she says: "My most valuable weapon is the Carbine, i can't carry that around, can I?" In her mind, that would be inviting trouble.

When asked about the decision to bathe or eat first, she answers with a cheeky grin: "I say we bathe first. If not, we would not enjoy the smells of the meal."

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #161):

Cole can see that these are young soldiers. No more than twenty, likely. Still, a man can gain experience quick, even in youth. So far, what Cole discerns most easily is that these cavalarymen are intoxicated. Not roostered; rather, well-lubricated.

"Just passin' through?" asks one of the soldiers.
-------------------------

OOC: If Cole wants more, he should make a skill check, of some sort.

In reply to Ayasha (msg #162):

Why don't we take our gear that we don't mind leaving in the room to our rooms.  Order a bath  Mosey down to the tin star and drop off whatever weapons we don't want to leave in our rooms. Come back.  Clean up. Then get something to eat.

Does that sound amenable?

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #163):

JEB interjects looking the young soldier square in the eye: "No, we're stayin' for a short while. Perhaps you boys are acquainted with a decent hotel in town."

JEB visually checks the soldiers' insignias to ascertain their unit.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #160):

Oh, I'm a man of words, yah... sometimes too many!

ENS smiles and offers a handshake.

Professor Eugene N. S. Ringgenberg, but please, just call me ENS.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #165):

With a slight nod, Cole agrees.

And if you boys know of a place to get a good bite to eat, I'd appreciate it.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #165) and Cole Trayne (msg #167:

One of the soldiers responds to the two visitors. "Sure, there's the Occidental and Planters and . . ."

The other soldier snaps "Shut yer trap, Samuel. I don't like the way this one is looking at me," he says, pointing his chin at the lawman from Missouri. "Let im find his way on his own." He moves to enter the Beehive.

JEB sees the U.S. Cavalry insignia, but he hasn't had time to determine the unit.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:48, Tue 29 Nov 2011.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #166) and Randy Oldman (msg #160):

Before Randy can reply, a dark young mexican man draws the curtain to the balcony.

"Senors, a beverage?" he asks, saying the last word as if it had one syllable too many.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #168):

Smiling, Cole glances at JEB.

Still the charmer, I see.

Cole, then returns his gaze to the friendlier soldier. Tipping his hat towards the man, Cole adds...

Much obliged, friend.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #170):

The second soldier nods to Cole, and then follows his friend into the hive.

The two riders find themselves at the corner of two busy streets--the long thoroughfare they rode into town and shorter side street--each lit by intermittent kerosene street lamps. The men spy some activity further down the thoroughfare, while there is a small crowd starting to gather at the next corner of the short street.

Bess and Diablo appear unharmed.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #170):

"It's not right to touch a man's horse without his permission. Those boys were drunk and lookin' for trouble. Let's stable the horses, visit the sheriff and find the hotels the young mounties recommended."

JEB and Cole continue down the main thoroughfare in search of the stables.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #169):

ENS is in a cheery mood as he and Mr. Oldman settle into their seats.

Ah yes, Manuel is it? I would like a beer please; and please get my large aquaintance here whatever he would like on my tab.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #172):

The lawman and the wrangler continue along the thoroughfare, approaching another intersection. This stretch seems relatively quiet, as the service establishments on both sides of the hard-packed dirt avenue have closed for the night.

A building on the left is a restaurant. At first glance, it appears the place remains open, but it looks like the evening meal is nearly concluded. Just before the cross street is a small saloon. A large bakery anchors the corner. Just beyond, a few more hole-in-the-wall saloons seem active, with a number of blue uniforms in each, as well as civilians.

Approaching the saloons, JEB's attention is drawn to a squat, fortified building with a succinct sign reading "Sheriff." Two men sit on the front porch, keeping watch over the avenue. They've taken notice of the new visitors.

Meanwhile, Cole notices a small dwelling to the left, its front porch bearing several large potted plants, while other smaller plants hang from the roof, the porch posts and the storefront wall. Most remarkably, two small, stylized lion statues flank the closed doorway.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #173):

Manuel takes Randy Oldman's order (even if it's only water) and departs just as the show begins, with Uncle Billy taking the stage and telling a few jokes. The crowd fills the ground floor benches and side tables, laughing and otherwise responding to the showman.

Soon he introduces, with a flourish, the lovely Soledad Sanchez, who sings to her own accompaniment on the piano. It's a lively tune with some dancers on stage . . . and a few in the crowd.

Let's take five minutes to get ready to go to the Sherrif's office.

Travis moves to the room.  He sorts his gear.  First he separates everything needing wash and repair.  He places his only clean change of clothes on the foot of the bed.

He returns to the front desk.

Miss Swartz I'll need these laundered.  This requires a few stiches, and this shirt lost a button.  Thank you.

He returns to his room and quickly wipes down the recently cleaned Webleys and his carbine. He puts everything else away, kmocking the trail off what he can.  Returning to civilization, Travis falls back on his military habits.  Everything is kept clean and organized.

Lastly, he unloads the brace Webleys and carbine retaining the ammunition.  Placing the pistols of his old friend in their belt he slings it over his shoulder.  Adjusting his twin Starrs he moves back to the front of the hotel.  The carbine's barrel resting on the Webley's belt on his left shoulder and his hat in his right hand, he calls back to Ayasha.  I'll be out front.

To Miss Swartz, We'll be down checking some weapons in with the Sherrif, after which we'll be be returning and would like to bathe.  Could you tell me where the Calaboose is in this town?

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #176):

"Mrs." replies Mrs. Swartz, when Travis delivers his laundry. "Teddy will take care of it for you. I'll make an entry in the ledger."

After Travis asks about the jail, the woman nods. "Picket Jail is right in the middle of Griffin Avenue. Can't miss it."

Travis now recalls riding right past the place, not thirty minutes ago.

In reply to Estelle Swartz (msg #177):

That's right Mrs Swartz, I did see it thank you.  Seems like a month ago.

Travis puts his hat on and exits the building, where he waits patiently.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #174):

JEB steers his horse in the direction of the fortified building, stops in front, dismounts and ties up at the hitching post. He approaches the two men on the porch and tips his hat, "Good evening, is the Sheriff in the office?"

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #173):

"How about a lemonade?  That sounds fine to me," Randy places his order with the waiter.

"I'm thankful for the drink."  Randy sits still--well, he really can't move much in the seat.

Next, Randy inquires as to the nature of the 'professor' title.

He continues during the interludes and intermission telling ENS of the times of the cattle drives, the Cheyenne village, San Francisco and the recent travels in Texas.

OOC: I posted part of Randy's bio in PM for ENS to read.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #180):

ENS tells Randy about his education in history (in both archeology and anthropology) and chemistry/pharmaceuticals. He also talks about doing field work looking for ancient sites and documenting indian culture.

When Randy describes the Cheyenne village, ENS interjects...

A friendly Cheyenne village? Is it far from here? I should like to visit them for my studies sometime...

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #179):

Both of the men on the porch stand when JEB dismounts. Nothing rash about their movements, they just leave their seats.

"I'm Sheriff Cruger," says one of the men, who wears a plain suit and Stetson. Cruger's build is similar to JEB's, but the street lamps and the sheriff's position on the porch provide too little illumination to make out his features.

The other man is large young feller, holding a Henry . . . at the ready, but not aimed. For a moment, he reminded JEB of Randy Oldman. But after seeing the cowboy from the NBO in San Francisco, he realizes this feller at the sheriff's side looks more like the Randy of those six years ago.

In reply to Sheriff Cruger (msg #182):

JEB steps up on the porch and extends his hand to Cruger: "Pleased to meet you, Sheriff. I'm Sheriff James Beauregard from Missouri. I always make it a habit to introduce myself to the local law when I first get into town, especially when I'm on official business. I know it's late so we can talk about that in the morning. I won't bother you any more tonight except to inquire about a decent place to rest for the night." 

In reply to Sheriff Cruger (msg #182):

Cole glances at the small dwelling, a look of curiosity plainly on his face.

He then returns his gaze back to the sheriff and his man.

Evening sheriff

He then nods to the other man.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #180) and E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #181):

The two men enjoy their conversation and the show. Manuel brings drinks--Randy's is more of a soda than a lemonade, understandable in the Texas winter. The beverage has a hint of lemon, but more so it tastes of ginger.

After a short intermission, Uncle Billy tells a few more jokes and then introduces the main act: Muriel and Jules Hervey. The duo sings a set of songs, each one more impressive than the last.

All too soon, it seems to both ENS and Randy, the show has come to a conclusion. In reality, a quick check of a watch shows that more than two hours have passed. The pugilist can't hold back a yawn, having traveled the full day.

http://www.doghouserules.net/d...ews/goin/OnStage.tif

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #183) and Cole Trayne (msg #184):

"No time like the present, Sheriff," says Cruger. "What brings you to The Flat?"

Ayasha, emerges just as Travis was considering sitting a spell.

Maybe later.

The pair mosey back the way they came towards the sherrif's office.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #187):

Travis Sunday has no problem finding the Sheriff. He turns on Griffin Avenue, back the way he came earlier.

This time, he notices an establishment across the street and slightly further north from the Sheriff's, its front porch bearing several large potted plants, while other smaller plants hang from the roof, the porch posts and the storefront wall. Most remarkably, two small, stylized lion statues flank the open doorway. Travis and Ayasha smell soap.

An unkempt man sits on the Sheriff's porch, staring at the Cheyenne and her pard.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:20, Fri 02 Dec 2011.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #188):

Travis approaches the porch.

Go ahead and keep staring.  Who knows, I may do a trick.

In reply to Sheriff Cruger (msg #186):

"Very well then. I'm on the trail of the outlaw Frank James. I received a tip he may be passin' through this territory. I'd appreciate any information on his whereabouts."

As Cole listens to the exchange between the lawmen, he removes his hat and runs his hand through his hair.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #189):

"Fine by me," says the unkempt man. "I enjoy a free show."

Now that Travis has moved closer to the porch, he sees the lanky black-haired man has a Henry by his side. And despite the lingering smell of soap from across the thoroughfare, a foul odor from this man offends the nose of Travis Sunday.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #190):

A look of recognition passes over the face of Sheriff Cruger. He tips back his Stetson.

"Sheriff Beauregard," he states, pausing for a moment to glance at the facsimile of the younger Mr. Oldman.

"A pleasure to welcome you to The Flat. Unfortunately, there's no truth to the rumors of Frank James in these parts. Least, as far as I know. You heard about the Northfield affair, I reckon."

EDIT: Added missing preposition
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:08, Fri 02 Dec 2011.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #191):

Cole can't help but hear the activity just a little further down the avenue, where a few saloons reside near the intersection.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #192):

Well if you would enjoy a free show perhaps you would also enjoy a free bath?  I'm sure the townfolk will gladly pitch in.

Travis moves to the porch placing his right foot on the step, indicating this is where he has business.  He eyes the rifle.

Can't say as I'm much of a Henry man, I prefer the Spencer myself.

This message was deleted by the player at 19:53, Fri 02 Dec 2011.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #181):

"The Tsitsistas call me hotoa'e mo'éhno'ha, Randy says.  "Buffalo Horse."

He explains the how and why he was accepted into the Cheyenne village--the horse he intended for Ayasha, the Cheyenne woman he met, was well received since it was theirs in the first place.  The villages liked that Randy learned to speak the language and played with the children.  He enjoyed the stories and admired their resourcefulness.  "I'm afraid," Randy says, "I care too much for them than to take a stranger to their camp.  It's not personal, but protectional, sorta.

"I've tried to get back to them from time to time, but it's a hard trip on myown.  I'm a bit worried that Black Hills War took a toll on 'em all.  I don't know who survived, if any."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:55, Fri 02 Dec 2011.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #195):

The unkempt man ignores Mr. Sunday's first comment. "I s'pose you have the right to cotton to any rifle you like, even if it's inferior."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #198):

Never worked for me off horseback.  Different tools for different situations, I reckon.

Travis pauses and looks up and down the street taking in the city.  He looks back to the odorous gentleman.

Speaking of weaponry, some Tin Stars I know prefer a man check his weapons into the hoosegow rather than leave 'em under a bed in a flop house.  Safer for the townfolk and the weaponry.  Is that a courtesy you extend or am I barking up the wrong tree?

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #199):

The odiferous feller cracks a grin. "You got a round'bout way of getting to your point, Mister. Checking your weapons ain't necessary, but iffin it makes you feel better, we can hold'em for you. Where are you staying?"

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #200):

It will make me feel better.  Thank you. 

Travis steps up on the porch.

He tilts his head towards the door.

Anyone inside?

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #201):

The unkempt man tenses, a mite. "No business of yours," he says.

"And in these parts, when a feller asks a question it's considered powerful rude not to answer," he adds, making sure that Travis gets a good look at his badge.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #202):

Well Tin Star I reckon I'll be polite and answer your question like you answered mine.

Travis leans and spits onto the street.  His folksy sarcastic tone evaporates.

No business of yours.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #203):

"I guess our business is done here," says the mangy lawman.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #204):

Reckon so.

Travis descends the steps returning to the street.  As he does so, and without looking or acknowledgement and in a clear voice loud enough that it is clearly heard.

I'm waiting for a lawman to ride into town.  His name is JEB Beauregard.  He'll check in with your office as a courtesy.  He always does.  When he gets here tell him Travis Sunday is staying at the Planters.


Travis continues into the street, his back to ole mangy.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #194):

Upon hearing the commotion down  the street, Cole focuses his attention a bit to see if he can pick up any snatches of conversation that might prove interesting.

In reply to Sheriff Cruger (msg #193):

JEB's attention is momentarily diverted by the commotion that has drawn Cole's eye, but he quickly returns to conversing with the Sheriff: "Well, that's disppointing to hear since I considered my source reliable. As for the Northfield Affair, indeed, I am familiar with it. Unfortunately, no such public intervention occurred in my town when the James-Younger Gang robbed the bank and killed my deputy in cold blood. I'll be in town awhile, so if you hear anything I'd appreciate you passing it along to me." 

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #205):

Still on Griffin Avenue, Travis Sunday faces the east side of the street. To his left he sees a small outfitters, some sort of dwelling and the building with the two lions on the porch. To the right, saloons.

Ayasha continues to follow the man from the sixth Michigan. She looks a mite puzzled, or distracted, or some such.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #206):

As Cole has entertained himself at the gaming tables a time or two, he'd wager the commotion from a street corner packed with saloons ain't out of the ordinary.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #207):

"I don't doubt your source, Sheriff, but scuttlebutt has a way of getting twisted, even by honest men." Cruger pauses, listening to the town's nightlife for a moment.

He returns his attention to JEB. "As for the Northfield affair, I mention that because it was only four months ago. Not sure when you heard your piece but if it was before that, well . . . I don't know if the James were part of that raid, but I've heard rumors of them holing up in Tennessee, the Ozarks, Fort Worth, and the Indian nations. Can't say which, if any, might be true. I can assure you that I wouldn't hold anything back if I knew the whereabouts of the Jameses."

In reply to Sheriff Cruger (msg #210):

"Much obliged, Sheriff. Now about that hotel?"

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #209):

A slight look of curiosity, mixed with concern, appears on his face.

Stock still, he clearly focuses.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #211):

Sheriff Cruger nods. "There's the Occidental farther down Griffin. Or Planters, on Fourth. Now that I mention it, I recollect my deputy saying someone named Sunday said you could find him at Planters. You know him?"

Tonight's show at the Frontier House having ended, Randy and ENS part ways with a hand shake, both saying they would see each other around town.

The professor returns to his hotel room for the evening.

Randy lingers, hoping to see Soledad again, but before long, Uncle Billy is closing up.

"Ah, you must be Randy," he says as tidies up the bar. "Soledad sends her apologies, as she has been unexpectedly detained for the balance of the evening. She asked me to invite you to join us here, tomorrow, at 2 p.m., if you aren't already otherwise engaged. Is this agreeable?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:07, Sat 03 Dec 2011.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #197):

OOC: This occurs before the evening's conclusion

[in Cherokee:]In truth, I mean them no harm.

<orange>...but, as you wish. I would like to hear more of the village sometime though. But for now, it was very nice meeting you Mr. Oldman!<orange>

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #211):

JEB, don't forget about the horses and Jack.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #215):

Randy bids good evening to ENS.  The big guy says he hasn't yet decided on a place to sleep for the night, but, "I'd sure be happy to talk about the Cheyenne tomorrow.  That and I don't have a friend in this town just now--at least not one who can match my hungry tummy.  What do ya say, breakfast somewhere tomorrow?."

---

In reply to Uncle Billy (msg #214):

"Nothin' would make me happier, except maybe finding a safe, but cheap, place to stow away for the night."  Randy keeps his composure, although disappointed he couldn't see the evening's star.

C'mon Ayasha we'll store our gear in our rooms.

Travis and Ayasha return to the planters.

In reply to Sheriff Cruger (msg #213):

"I know him" , JEB glances at Cole when he mentions the horses and continues, "Oh, yes and could you direct us to the stables. We'll stay at the Planters if you need to get in touch in me. I'll check in with you from time to time if it's not too much trouble."

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #219):

Cole waits until he and JEB are clear of the sheriff's office before he speaks.

JEB, I didn't want to say this in front of the sheriff, but while you were talking, I thought I heard some moaning coming from that there direction. Might be nothing. Still, you being a lawman and all, I just thought I would mention it.

Could be someone hurt. Or could be someone "enjoying" himself. I'm just saying...

Your call...

Cole subsequently points in the direction he believes he heard the sounds.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #217):

Uncle Billy nods as he continues to clean up. "You need go no further than next door. The Owsley's take boarders and the Missus makes a delectable cup of Arbuckle's. Of course, it is a little late, but if all you require is a bed I suspect they will be able to accommodate you."

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #219) and Cole Trayne (msg #220):

The town's lawman nods. "It's no trouble. Stables are across the street from Planters."

By the time the two visitors clear the sheriff's, Cole realizes they are already at the intersection with the four saloons. All are doing a fair business, but one in particular is the most populated. Cole sees a sign on hanging over the front porch. Shannsey's. Even in the chill of the evening, a number of men have gathered on the porch, drinkin' and jawin'. Double doors, propped open, provide ingress from the porch, revealing a smoke-filled room with several men crowded around a table with four men playing cards. Other tables are also occupied, as is the bar, with some of the men there also watching the card game.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:23, Sun 04 Dec 2011.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #218):

When Travis and Ayasha return to the hotel, Mrs. Swartz greets them again. "Are you ready for your bath, Mr. Sunday?"

In reply to Estelle Swartz (msg #223):

We'll both require them.  The lady should have priority,
This message was last edited by the player at 16:17, Sun 04 Dec 2011.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #220):

"Alright, let's check it out. Lead the way."

OOC: To JM - not sure if this is consistent with msg #222. If the moment has passed just skip ahead.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #224):

"Of course," answers Mrs. Swartz, glancing at the Cheyenne, who remains quiet and circumspect. "The bath is on the second floor, number 19. Teddy is there now, getting it ready."

In reply to Estelle Swartz (msg #226):

Thank you Mrs. Swartz.

Discretely, to Ayasha.

The bath is all yours.  If you have any questions follow me to my room, we'll chat privately.  If not I'll wait for you to finish up.

Travis starts to move to his room.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #225):

Nodding, Cole pauses a moment. He goes silent and attempts to re-acquire the moaning sounds he heard only moments earlier.

This message was deleted by the player at 20:57, Sun 04 Dec 2011.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #217):

Sounds like a fine idea! I'm staying at the Planters, just come on by in the morning and we can either eat there, or find someplace in town.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #228):

Cole hears plenty--the sounds of men carousing on a Saturday night. He can't discern any particular sound amongst the cacophony of the four saloons.

In reply to Uncle Billy (msg #221):

Randy expresses sincere gratitude for the recommendation.

"Two o'clock tomorrow then. I'll be here."  With that, Randy bids a good evening.

OOC: If the fair judge so pleases, Randy is prepared to retire the night and pick up in the morning.  Of course, if it is important to RP the boarding for a single night, that is fine as well.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #232):

Randy Oldman walks the dozen yards over to the Owsley's Boarding House and Eatery. Fortunately, there's a light on and a couple of people who attended the show have recently entered to retire for the evening.

The pugilist meets Mr. Owsley, a short feller with a few years under his belt, judging from the neat gray beard. A place to flop in the common bunks, without board, is fifteen cents a night. With board, forty cents.

OOC: Done.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #231):

"Just sounds like a rowdy night. Best we stable the horse first."

If Cole does not object, JEB and Cole head to the stables.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #234):

Cole  pauses another moment, then slowly shakes his head.

Reckon, I was hearing things. Let's go take care of the criers

As he and JEB move on, Cole looks into any nearby alleyways. A clear look of suspicion on his face.

Ayasha having no questions, Travis returns to his room and closes the drapes.

He places a Webley under the pillow the carbine against the wall next to the door, so that the open door would conceal it. He places the other Webley in the dresser's top drawer.  The gunbelt is stored in the bottom drawer.

He returns to the front porch of the hotel and looks to see if there is a chair available.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #234) and Cole Trayne (msg #235):

As the two men turn onto fourth street, Cole sees an open space to the left and just one alley to the right. He sees no one in the alley next to what looks like a bank, but next to the bank he spies a building with a long porch. A few men occupy the porch.

Indeed, the long building is Planters Hotel and across the street is a large barn with a small corral. A man sits on the top rail of the corral.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #236):

After stowing his gear, Travis finds a chair on the porch--one of two empty chairs remaining. Nearby, a couple of gentleman are discussing some sort of business deal, smoking cigars. Travis relaxes, watching passers-by as well as a horse being groomed in Haverty's corral.

Before long, a young boy built like a bear cub—stumpy legs, barrel chest, mop head of hair—walks up from Griffin Ave, with another youngster in tow. The bear cub stops at the porch.

"Hey Mister," says the boy, in a mannish tone. "Are you a gunfighter?"

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #237):

Cole looks towards JEB...

Looks like this is the place.

He then proceeds directly to the man sitting on the fence.

Evening mister. My friend and I are looking to put our horses up during our stay in this here town. You work here?

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #238):

Travis looks at the pair of Starrs on his hip and back to the boy.

I apprenticed to be an engineer, then I was a soldier.  Now I just help folks out when they have problems.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #239):

Upon approaching the man on the fence, Cole sees that the man wears a weathered cowboy hat, with graying braids spilling out from beneath. He looks up from his whittling.

"Yes. Fifty cents a night for each horse, including grooming."

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #240):

Almost as if he didn't register the answer, the bear cub asks another question. Meanwhile, the other youngster peeks from around his hiding place behind his friend. Travis figures these boys are no more than ten years of age.

"Do you own a squaw?"

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #242):

Following a slight eyeroll and cringe from Travis, he clamly but firmly...

People don't own people.  That's what we fought the great war about.  The woman you saw me with is my friend and she's even saved my life before.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #243):

The bear cub nods. "That's boss. I didn't mean no disrespect. I heard someone say they saw your squaw following you around, so I was just askin'."

Apparently considering which of his numerous questions to ask next, he adds "Is your name Traveling Sunday? What does that mean?"

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #244):


There was no disrespect taken.  My name is Travis, not traveling.  You boys from around here?

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #245):

The bear cub laughs. "Yep. We live here, but I was born in Galveston. I'm Arnie Foster," he says, puffing up his chest. "This here is Will. Say howdy to Mr. Sunday, Will," he adds, in a surprisingly commanding tone.

"Howdy," says the other boy, obediently.

In reply to Arnie Foster (msg #246):

Travis tips his hat.

Howdy.  So gentleman what's news around town.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #241):

"Sounds a bit high. Where I come from 25 cents is fair price."

Today: James E. Beauregard rolled 12 using 1d20+10. Diplomacy

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #248):

An easy smile appears on Cole's face.

I was hoping he was talking about both horses, and Jack, JEB.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #247):

Arnie furrows his thick brow. "Mostly you, I reckon," he answers. "And that professor from back east with all letters in his name." He nods, happy with his answer. "Mr. Keenan said the stage is due soon," he adds.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #248) and Cole Trayne (msg #249):

The man on the fence goes back to his whittling. Without a hint of emotion, he replies.

"Twenty-five cents, no grooming."

In reply to Arnie Foster (msg #250):

Well, if I'm news there must not be much else going on.  You come and find me if anything else interesting happens.  If it's really interesting to me, I'll give you a nickel.  If it's not just a penny.  If it's not interesting at all, the agreements off.

Travis leans back on the chair.

How's that sound?

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #252):

"Sounds boss. That professor is interesting. Mr. Keenan thinks so. That's one nickel, I reckon," he says hopefully if not confidently.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #251):

JEB expresses no emotion as well as he accepts the offer: "Very well then,  a horse requires proper grooming."

JEB dismounts and collects his bags, rifle and shotgun.

There's too much excitement for Randy to get a good night's rest, but he got some.  He is up early.  In speaking with the Owsley's, he makes arrangements to stay as a boarder for the time being.

With lodgings managed, and the hour still early, Randy makes his way to settling in.  He gathers his belongings from the livery, and with the help of Johnny, brings them to the Owsley's.

Perhaps an hour later, Randy arranges for a bath.  He emerges a clean, but not yet smart.  Gotta start off on the right foot.  He dons his ubiquitous fine suit.

The barber gives a nice shave and a haircut.  Randy feels set for the day.

Sometime around eight o'clock, Randy arrives at the Planters and inquires about ENS Ringgenberg.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #253):

Sorry gentleman.  I proposed our agreement because you mentioned the professor.  You wouldn't want anything to be other than in apple pie order would you?  Anything new that's interesting to me.  That's the deal.

Travis leans back in the chair.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:29, Wed 07 Dec 2011.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #255):

Having come down a bit earlier to have some coffee, ENS spots his new large aquaintance when he gets to the lobby desk and calls out from the small dining area...

Mr. Oldman! Over here!

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #251):

Cole nods.

I'm in, too. How much for Jack? He can earn his keep, he is one hell of a guard dog.

Without so much as a glance at his dog, Cole provides a demonstration.

Jack. Heel.

His dog promptly comes to his side and sits.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #256):

"Okay, Mister. I gotta deliver this missive for Mr. Keenan." The bear cub moves on, Will following.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #258):

The man on the fence takes a look at Jack. "As long as he gets along with Max, a dog is no trouble."

Once he has collected the night's fee from each man, the cowboy with the braids leads the two horses into the corral.

In reply to Arnie Foster (msg #259):

Hearing from Ayasha that  her bath was complete, Travis takes his.  By habit his gunbelt and money join him.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #260):

JEB and Cole leave the stable and walk to Planters.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #262):

Cole silently takes in the sounds of the night life as the proceed towards their lodgings.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #261):

From the outside, room #19 appears to be a guestroom; however, as Mrs. Swartz had indicated, this chamber houses a bathtub: a roomy, interestingly shaped brass model with ornately wrought feet. A wooden chair sits next to the tub, while several clothing and gun hooks hang on the east and west walls, mostly empty except for a single dry towel. A small shelf with a cake of soap and rags is mounted on the west wall over the tub. The normal wooden door has a lock.

http://www.doghouserules.net/d.../planters2_bath.tiff

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #262) and Cole Trayne (msg #263):

Cole and JEB turn around after watching the braided man tend to their horses, followed by Jack.

The Planters Hotel is a long building with a long front porch. A few men sit in chairs on the porch, smoking cigars or just making conversation. On less chilly night, it's easy to imagine the porch filled with visitors taking the night air.

Compared to Griffin Avenue, where all the saloons were, this side of town is quiet. Cole finds nothing much of interest in the way of nightlife during the dozen or so paces to the Planters' porch. He does see that a squat stone building rests next to the Planters, bearing a simply engraved wooden sign on the low roof, reading “F.B. York’s Bank."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #265):

JEB and Cole step onto the front porch of Planters, JEB saying "good evening" as he passes the cigar smokers. Upon entering the hotel, JEB immediately looks for/heads to the front desk and inquires about any available rooms.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #266):

When JEB opens the doors to the hotel, the first thing he sees is a grand staircase dominating the lobby. Almost 20 feet away from the entry doors, the 8’ wide stairway leads up to the second floor. The Hotel’s front desk lies immediately to the right of the entrance with a sitting area--occupied by two men--beyond the desk and to the right of the stairs. A knee-wall on the left separates the lobby from the eatery. Looks like the evening meal has recently ended--the last of the diners are departing and stewards are cleaning up. On the lobby side of the knee-wall, just inside the Hotel entrance, sits an upholstered chair with an accompanying end table and spittoon.

A burly man with a ruddy complexion and mutton-chops, wearing a plain suit and a bolo tie, leans against a long, reverse L-shaped front desk. The base of the desk is fashioned from pine and stained a deep brown, while the overlapping top is of high quality lacquered oak. A guest sign-in book rests in the middle of the long section of the desktop, along with a quill pen in a holder affixed to the desk next to a small ink well. A small wooden-handled brass bell sits next to the guest book.

http://www.doghouserules.net/d.../goin/planters1a.pdf

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #257) and Randy Oldman (msg #255):

The professor and the pugilist enjoy the morning meal at Planters. ENS sees the two businessmen again, and it appears that at least a few of the patrons are town locals taking advantage of the Planters decent fare. Indeed, the food is tasty and filling, if not especially creative.

Service ends shortly after 9 a.m., although no one tries to rush the fellers out. Still, as both men have their individual tasks to get to during this fine January morning, they part ways by 10 a.m., agreeing to meet again that evening, either for another meal or a drink afterwards. Randy has secured board at another establishment, so he says he might just meet after dinner, but there's no tellin' for sure, he might decide to eat two meals.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #267):

Approaching the burly man behind the front desk, Cole takes a moment to glance wistfully at the dining area.

Damn, I do believe we missed supper.

Returning his attention to the man, Cole places his hand on the desk. When the man acknowledges his presence, he speaks.

Evening mister. My friend and I are looking for a couple of rooms?

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #268):

Showing he has learned some manners and etiquette, but only some, Randy handles himself pleasantly enough at the Planters.  His large appetite aside, his cadence of consumption befits the setting.  His large appetite isn't set aside for long when he has the opportunity to eat everything except the scraps on ENS' plate.

Talking about the Cheyenne, the pugilist has learned, isn't the best conversation in polite company.  Using the few language tricks he knows, Randy talks about the daily life of the tribe, at least that of Autumn and Winter, with subterfuge.  He makes it clear to the professor that he doesn't long to be a member of the village.  Randy's enamored with the idea of a village, with shared possessions and responsibilities.  He identifies with their loss.

Continuing to other topics, chiefly of himself, Mr. Oldman talks openly of his time in San Francisco, including his time sinking in the opium den.  He doesn't assign any heroic characteristics to Travis.  Instead, it is well within Travis' heroic character that compelled him to assist Randy.

It is obvious Randy holds his old trail-mates in good to high esteem.  He describes each in turn to Mr. Ringgenberg. "Major Gray was a real good man.  He told me what to do and where, in no uncertain terms.  I knew his good side and stayed on it.  He was more like a father since I never had one.  He was a man of few words.  Maybe I heard a dozen words at a time from him.  A smart man who kept his word -- straight and true.

His Mexican man, Rojas, knew right from wrong and taught us all how to work with the Major.  He told me what to do, but let me work out how to do it.  He had a level head.

Cole Trayne was a straight-shooter, the Major's top cow hand.  I rode with him for two seasons in all.  Cole's a good feller and he's pretty handy with a medical kit.  He always had a dog with him.

JEB was a 'poke with some long name I've forgotten.  The last I heard he gone back to Mizzou since he was a lawman somewhere up there.  He's real smart, I think.

Travis Sunday was a bit of a cut-up sometimes, but always good with a hogleg.

I liked them one and all."

About the time the final scraps are disappearing, Randy brings the topic up to present day.  He tells of his meetings with Soledad Sanchez in Fort Worth and the Hervey's in San Antonio.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #269):

As it happens, it seems that the man begrudgingly gives Cole his attention, as if Cole were interrupting something important even though the man doesn't appear to be doing anything in particular.

"Two rooms?" he replies, looking the trail-dusted men up and down. "I have a two-bunk room that might suit you." He pulls out a ledger and reviews the current bookings.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #271):

JEB places his bags and longarms on the floor and removes his trail dust covered overcoat to reveal the fine quality suit underneath adorned with the tin star. JEB sighs, glances at Cole and answers the clerk, "I'm Sheriff James Beauregard from Missouri. We're in town in an official capacity, so I need to set up a temporary office. We'll take the best suite in this lodging. And if you would kindly open the kitchen. We haven't had a decent meal in weeks."

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #271):

Cole gives the impression that he is not altogether impressed with the man's attitude.

If you are saying that two rooms are not available, then we will take the two bunk room. But, let me be clear, that is not what I asked for.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #272) and Cole Trayne (msg #273):

The man's demeanor changes quickly. He goes from frown to fawn, as it were, in a heartbeat.

"Sheriff Beauregard! I see, yes, I see. I am Jack Swartz, the proprietor here. Please, let me explain." He nods enthusiastically to both the lawman and Cole Trayne.

"You see, as you say, I don't have two regular rooms available, which is why I suggested the two-bunk room." He flips a page in the ledger. "I keep our finest suite available for just such an occasion, and well, you see, I was pre-occupied with another matter, and failed to recognize . . . completely my mistake."

"Ah, but the suite has only one bed, so . . . " he looks up expectantly, meeting Cole's eyes "will you require a deluxe room . . . then?"

In reply to Jack Swartz (msg #274):

Cole visibly relaxes, slightly, in response to the man's change in demeanor.

Don't need nothing fancy, just some place to rest my head in peace and quiet. I'll leave it up to you, JEB.

Cole looks expectantly towards the sheriff.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #275):

A puzzled look passes over Mr. Swartz's face; his eyes widen and a blank stare comes over him for a moment. Then his eyes return to Cole.

"Oh, I see, I see. It's entirely my fault. You see, the suite has only one bed." He motions to the lawman. "A deluxe room has only one bed . . ." he motions to Cole. "You wanted two rooms, yes? The suite" he motions to the lawman again, "and . . . ah a deluxe room for you, sir?" he finishes, gazing at Cole.

In reply to Jack Swartz (msg #276):

Travis completing his bath has enjoyed a lovely day doing nothing.  Ayasha having decided to fend for himself, left Travis with the opportunity for a nap.

He awakes later than he had hoped but serendipity has favored him.

Walking into the foyer and peeking into the dining room he notes an old friend.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, If I knew they'd let the likes of you into this hotel I'd have stayed in the livery.

Travis grins wide as he steps forward and extends his hand to randy.

How are you pard?

In reply to Jack Swartz (msg #276):

It's not your fault Mr. Swartz.  These two are used to less elegant establishments and bunk houses.

Travis steps out of his room, closing the door.

Gentleman.  I am at your service.

Travis tips his hat to JEB and Cole.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:18, Sat 10 Dec 2011.

In reply to Jack Swartz (msg #276):

How much coin are we talking about? For each of the available rooms you've mentioned, so far?

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #278):

At the sound of his old friend's voice, Cole quickly turns and a broad grin appears on his face.

Travis Sunday! It is damn good to see you! what in tarnation are you doing in these here parts?

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #280):

If I'm not mistaken, Travis looks at JEB I'm the newest deputized member of this pitifully small Marshfield Posse.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #281):

JEB cracks a small smile and nods, "Sunday, you alone are worth ten guns. Glad to have your service."

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #279):

The hotel proprietor waits uncomfortably until the men have greeted each other. When Cole looks his way again, he answers, "A deluxe room is $2.20 per night, sir." While he's at it, he turns to JEB. "Sheriff, a suite is $6.50 per night." His wide smile seems more than a mite forced.

EDIT: typos for clarity
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:58, Sun 11 Dec 2011.

Looks pretty much like I remember it bein', Jake thought to himself as he surveyed the southern approaches to town from where he had halted Ghost. It had been somewhere between six months and a year since he had been through here on Wells Fargo business, and at first glance he didn't see any changes that jumped out at him, at least not any that were visible from his present vantage point.

Although it had warmed up a little now that the sun was pretty high in the sky, the January wind was still bitterly cold, and Jake pulled his head down into the collar of his heavy winter coat, like a turtle. He had hoped to make town the previous evening, but he hadn't made it by dark-fall, and the footing had been too treacherous on the slushy, iced-over road to risk injuring Ghost by pushing on in the dark.

Making camp last night alongside the trail had been no picnic -- since the flat plains had not offered any cover, the frigid wind seemed to take delight in sneaking its icy, bone-chilling drafts inside his coat. Jake couldn't remember being that cold since one of the winters in northern Virginia during the war. He had been much younger, then, of course, but his uniform had been threadbare and ragged after years of war, and he could still remember his bare feet leaving bloody marks in the snow.

"Hard times, Ghost -- hard times," he muttered under his breath as he thought back on those days that were still fresh in his memory, patting the neck of the big dappled-gray stallion that he rode. Ghost had cost him a pretty penny, but he had needed a horse once he was no longer riding guard on company stage-coaches, and he had decided not to stint on his mount. Old Ben Franklin probably hadn't been talking about horses when he coined the phrase "Penny wise, pound foolish," but Jake figured that the boot fit.

Jake could recall a few places from his previous stopovers in The Flat -- Shannsey's saloon, and the Occidental Hotel, which he remembered as being impressively clean. First things first, though -- he needed to find a livery stable for Ghost, which was something that he had not had to deal with on his previous trips to this place, since he had ridden in on company coaches.

"Reckon we may as well mosey on in," Jake muttered aloud to Ghost, lightly flicking the reins to nudge the horse into a walk. Truth be told, Jake was looking forward to putting a wall between him and that sonuvabitchin' winter wind. Eatin's somebody else's cookin' for a change an' enjoyin' a little store-bought whiskey don't sound too shabby, neither, he thought to himself.

Then, too, there was the matter of trying to find a job. Damn that stick-up-his-ass Jeremiah Wilson. He had to know that it warn't my fault that that damn-fool, fancy-pants card-sharp tried to shoot it out with his holdout gun against a hard case's scatter-gun, and ended up as worm-food. You'd think that a gamblin' man would have to have a better grasp of the odds than that.

OOC: As near as I can tell, per Msg. #268, above, it is mid-morning (10:30 to 11:00 a.m.), or thereaboutish. I have written Jake's post based on that assumption. I'll be happy to edit if that is not the case. :)
This message was last edited by the player at 02:50, Sun 11 Dec 2011.

In reply to Jack Swartz (msg #283):

Finish up with Mr. Swarz and take care of your gear.  I'll be waiting on the porch and we can catch up.

In reply to Jake Richardson (msg #284):

When he passes the army fort on the hill, Jake Richardson remembers his past visits to The Flat. A mounted patrol takes notice of the solitary rider, but the soldiers make no movements to intercept or follow.

Soon, Jake sees that the road he follows will take him directly into town. He remembers the main thoroughfare, Griffin Avenue, with a couple of street lamps marking the edge of the town. Passing by a residence and the telegraph office, Jake finds the Occidental Hotel right where he left it, with the Post Office directly across the avenue. Up ahead is Shannsey's saloon at the intersection of Fourth and Griffin. It's a busy crossroads, someone there could likely direct him to the livery.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #286):

Well, leastways it ain't messy today, Jake thought to himself, glancing up at the clear blue wintery sky overhead, which held only a few wispy, high clouds that did not threaten precipitation. Jake hated to have to travel when it was snowing or sleeting, for now matter how hard he tried, some of the slush always seemed to find a way down inside the collar of his jacket. And he had found that whenever his neck got cold and wet, it just naturally made him feel cold, no matter how well he might otherwise be bundled up.

As he was riding down Griffin at a slow walk for Ghost, a little ways past the Occidental he swung wide to stay clear of a fast-moving, heavily laden wagon that was driven by a harassed-looking teamster. Although Jake himself had never held the reins of one of the big Concord coaches, he had heard the drivers talk about how difficult it was to attempt any kind of a quick direction change once the stage was up to speed. He figured that it was best just to give the wagon plenty of room, especially since it was lots bigger than he was.

As he neared Shannsey's place, Jake glanced over the people out in the street and those who were up on the boardwalk. He reckoned that anyone who wasn't purely falling-down drunk could most likely direct him to the livery. But given the choice, he usually tended to look for intelligent-looking folk to speak with, having generally found the results more to his liking.

Jake reined in Ghost by Shannsey's hitching-rail and waited silently for a moment, looking to catch someone's eye . . .

OOC: 2:00 p.m.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:17, Sun 11 Dec 2011.

In reply to Jack Swartz (msg #283):

JEB considers for a moment, "Hmmm, said I was a Sheriff not a railroad baron. I had thought to split the cost of a suite but with only one bed looks like I'll have to make do with a deluxe room."

JEB pays and takes his gear up to the room. He takes a few bites of beef jerky to quiet his hunger and then joins Travis on the porch for an evening smoke.

In reply to Randy Oldman (msg #270):

During the meal, ENS responds in kind to Randy, telling him about his childhood in Switzerland and coming to America to go to university. He pays particular attention when Randy talks about the village, and explains his desire to observe and document the natives' culture and collect artifacts. He also tells Randy about his interest in ancient cultures and the extrordinary fossilized remains that have been found recently back East.

You see Mr. Oldman, I am on a mission of research, both of current cultures and the ancient! But for the winter I will confine my studies here.

As the meal concludes, ENS shakes Randy's hand warmly and promises to meet again for dinner. He then gathers himself for the day and heads out. His first stop being the place with the Chinese lions.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #289):

"I'm paid up for my dinners for the week, my breakfasts too.  What about I join you each morning, here.  We can talk and I'll drink coffee while you eat."   Randy accepts his gesture.  "I think that'll be really nice."

The hulking human has his own plans for the day, or at least part of it.  And, he needs to find a job.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #288):

Cole looks at his friend, the sheriff, and shrugs. He then turns his attention to the man behind three desk. A look of dissatisfaction clearly on his face.

I'll take it. Show Me to my room.

When Cole gets to his room, he drops off the bulk of his belongings and joins JEB and Travis on the porch, his pistol securely at his side.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #288) and Cole Trayne (msg #291):

Mr. Swartz's ruddy face reddens even further and his fawning has receded. "Gentlemen. I'm afraid I have only one Deluxe room available." Glancing between the men, he continues.  "I can rent one deluxe and one average room, if the suite is beyond your means."

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #289):

The professor finds the one story building with the freshly-swept porch guarded by the lions. The front door is open.

In reply to Travis Sunday (msg #285):

Travis Sunday finds the porch somewhat quiet. Not like this afternoon.

In reply to Jake Richardson (msg #287):

Jake spies a couple of soldiers standing on the corner. Seems likely the soldiers from the fort would know their way around this burg.

In reply to Jack Swartz (msg #292):

"I'll take the suite, then."

This message was deleted by the player at 20:02, Mon 12 Dec 2011.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #295):

It was easy to pick out the blue uniforms amongst the crowd of civilians, and Jake decided to ride over and speak to the two soldiers. He looked them over closely as he got nearer, for he knew that a man's uniform would reveal much if one knew how to read it -- and Jake did.

He was looking for things such as insignia of rank, accent colors that would tell him the arm of service [yellow for cavalry, light blue for infantry (he didn't really expect to see artillery red, but he had heard that there were a few such units scattered around out here on the frontier)] -- as well as whether they were wearing sidearms in the distinctive flapped-over cavalry holsters -- and a regimental number. Part of his interest was fueled by his own curiosity, but he also reckoned that the more he could figure out, the more amiably he could converse with these men. And since he needed information from them, he reckoned that he could catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.

Of course, once they heard his soft south Texas accent, they would probably figure out pretty quick that a man his age who could read their uniforms had been in the Reb army, so his little plan might end up backfiring on him if they were Yankees, and were the sort to hold grudges.

What the hell. Sometimes a man's just gotta lay down his cards an' see how the hand plays out.

OOC: 18:13, Today: Jake Richardson rolled 26 using 1d20+7 with rolls of 19. Spot Check Re: Soldiers.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:07, Mon 12 Dec 2011.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #293):

ENS approaches the porch, pausing to assess the statues for quality.

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #291):

I reckon I'll take the other room.

In reply to James E. Beauregard (msg #296) and Cole Trayne (msg #300):

The proprietor nods, muttering something inaudible as he writes in his ledger.

"The suite is room 10," he says, handing a key to JEB, "and I can put you in the next room, number 11" he adds, handing a key to Cole. "I'll need payment now, gentlemen, for at least one night."

"Mr. Baker," he calls out after the men have paid, looking to a man reading a newspaper in the corner near the stairs. "Please show these men to their rooms."

In reply to Jack Swartz (msg #301):

The man reading the paper stands. He's slightly taller than the average cowpoke, mustached and solidly built.

"Yessir, Mr. Swartz." Without another word, he starts up the stairs. He wears a single Schofield, holstered.

In reply to E.N.S. Ringgenberg (msg #299):

Stooping to get a closer look at the lions, the professor sees they are of average quality--certainly not antiquties. He does notice that they have been repaired, at least once.

Through the door he sees a plain wooden countertop dominating a small square room.