The breeze from the Tennessee River offers a small comfort during the warm June afternoon in Paducah, Kentucky. Merchant steamers, gunboats and passenger skiffs crowd this bustling port at the confluence of the Ohio and Tennessee, carrying supplies, soldiers, traders and travelers in the aftermath of the war.

Rumors that Paducah is a safe place for folks on both sides of the conflict seem true enough. While this port was firmly in Union control for most of the war, the locals and the Union commanders have embraced a hankering for peaceful commerce (backed up by the 7th Tennessee Cavalry Regiment and the 8th Regiment Heavy Artillery). Law abidin' folks pass freely and any dust-ups between war-time enemies are dealt with quicker than an ace pulled from a gambler's sleeve.

Among the many voices at the port is one Sgt. Osterfeld, who has issued a call for companions to join him on the trail west toward the Ozarks. Ignoring some dirty looks from former brothers-in-arms and opponents alike, the Union Sergeant has staked out a barrell on a pier, trusting that providence will bring new friends for his journey.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:39, Sun 27 July 2008.

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #1):

Well Chance, I've packed up my provisions and settled my accounts here.  I'll pick up a horse as soon as I can afford one.  Until them I'm still infantry. Travis smiles and looks west. I here there's some big country out there.  Never thought I'd see the west.  Until the war I was gonna live the quiet life of a mechanic in Michigan.  Now going to the Ozarks and later the territories just feels right. When do you think we'll saddle up? Well at least the company will be good.

Silas moseys up and stands among the crowd as the Sergeant stands upon his makeshift soap-box and sells his pitch. Listening for a moment Silas sidles up towards Chance and Travis, looking Chance solidly in the eye he says, "I reckon I might want to travel along with you fellas if'n you'd have me. My home is in that neck of the woods and some travlin' company would be mighty fine. My name's Silas Walker...mighty fine to meet ya'll."

Upon a brief glance you see a dirty and haggard looking soul, pushing 20 if he's lucky. His rumpled clothes look as if they haven't seen a wash tub anytime in recent history...Silas matches that same description with a smudged face, dirty hands and crumpled hat. A travel sack and bedroll is slung over one shoulder, a cartridge belt is worn across his chest and back and he's cradling a well-maintained looking Henry rifle.

Silas extends his hand towards Chance and finally looks over at Travis...his eyes get big as saucers and his once extended hand drops limply to his side. Silas looks as if he's about to speak but he just stands there, mouth agape as if he can't get out a word.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:36, Mon 28 July 2008.

In reply to Silas Walker (msg #3):

Hello Silas.  You look like you've seen a ghost.

OOC:  I hope you're not in Cozumel

OOC: Don't leave for Cozumel until Thursday morning, so we'll get in a few days of roleplaying here.

Silas blinks at the sound of Travis' voice and shakes his head slightly as if coming out of a daze. He squares his shoulders directly at Travis, completely ignoring Chance in the process, and takes a step forward. He abruptly lifts his Henry Rifle, rests it across his shoulder then reaches up with his free hand and grabs Travis by the upper arm.

"I never would have thought it if'n I'm not looking at it now," Silas exclaims while looking towards the sky, "almightly Lord above I thank you for this joyous day."

Silas shifts his eyes at Travis, "Hot damn Edwin," Silas says in a frenzy of words, "how the hell did ya do it...what happened that you'd be standing here..." Silas' voice trails off with excitement.

In reply to Silas Walker (msg #5):

Travis, eyed Silas up and down then turned slowly until Silas' arm no longer gripped him.  A concerned look came over him.

 Poor kid, look at him.  That Henry Rifle is in apple pie order, but the rest of him... some scars a man can't see

Silas, I don't mean to break up your fandango, but... Travis took a long pause and looked him square in the eyes  ... and this is Simon pure, I'm not Edwin and I don't believe we've been acquainted before.

Travis kept his eyes locked with Silas and placed both hands on his forearms gently.  He looked into those joyous energetic eyes for some acknowledgment that this was a misunderstanding..

In reply to Judge Messalen (msg #1):

With a horse in tow and a large dog by his side, Cole slowly approaches the group of three men. He eyes someone who he believes to be Chance and walks directly towards him, while curiously observing the odd exchange occurring between the two other men in the immediate vicinity.

Chance? My name is Cole Trayne. I hear tell that you are looking for some company on the trail out west. I'm going that direction myself and I could sure use some company. What do you say?

Cole casts another side long glance at the other two fellas... I wonder what's that's about?
This message was last edited by the player at 03:49, Tue 29 July 2008.

Well, we're gathering a nice little group.  I'm glad to meet each of you.  I truly am.  I'd like to get going soon, but I would like to wait until the morning to head out.  Hopefully we'll get another gentleman or two to join.

OCC: I know we have a couple others still developing their char sheets.  Until then, let's continue the banter.

Let me tell you about this guy in my unit.  He couldn't hit a rock with a barn.....
This message was last edited by the player at 13:30, Tue 29 July 2008.

Recovering his arm to his side, Silas takes a step to the side of Travis and peers at the side and back of his head. "Damn Edwin, I'm guessin' that bullet grazed that  noggin' of yours after all. Damn good thing you have such a hard head or it mighta done some more lasting damage."

At this Silas takes a step back from Travis, stopping about half an arm's length away...he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat from his brow, "It's alright cuz, we got a trail ahead of us, that'll give us plenty of time to get your memory back. It's the least I can do...," his voice trailing off.

In reply to Silas Walker (msg #9):

Travis chuckled and looked at Chance.  Chance shrugged and chuckled as well.

Well I don't know whose noggin got grazed Silas yours or mine.   Travis shakes his head and looks at his boots.  Lord why me?  It was taking that five dollars off the regimental chaplain in that friendly game of cards.  Wasn't it?  I'm not the one who got soaked and tried to bluff his way to a big pot.  You and me lord have some things to work through.  You created me this way after all.  I'm sure over time the memories will come back.  Until then folks have been calling me Travis and maybe you could go along so others don't get confused.  We'll both know the truth though.

In reply to Chance Osterfeld (msg #8):


Works for me, I'm not in any rush. What's another day or two? Seeing how we might be on the trail a while, I wouldn't mind getting myself a decent home-cooked meal, this evening. What do you say we hang around here for a spell, just in case some others will want to join up. But, at sunset, let's go find a place to get something to eat and drink?


Cole glances about looking for a place to grab a place to do just that.

Capital idea.  I'm getting a good feeling about you all.

Did I ever tell you about the gentleman in my unit who couldn't tell left from right?  He always got off on the wrong foot!

In reply to Cole Trayne (msg #11):

Sounds good to me.  I may not have spent too many years on this Earth but any activity I participated in which could be described as an adventure has always seemed to start in a tavern.  Like that time I met General Grant...

The docks feature a number of establishments, including a couple of places where a feller can grab a root or say howdy to John Barleycorn.

As all y'all look around, you see a highfalutin restaurant with a wood-carved sign proclaiming the "River Inn." By the looks of the Union officers and well-dressed civilians congregating on the porch, it 'pears to be a might rich for your blood.

Meanwhile, you catch a glimpse of a shanty with a simple painted sign reading "Gone Fishin'." It doesn't look like there's much room to sit down inside, but there are several wooden tables and benches around the place where you see a handful of folks hoistin' mugs of Barleycorn and chowin' down on some manner of nourishment.

I hate being out of whisky even more than I hate being out of coffee. . . I need to replenish some supplies. . . Piece of fish sounds nice. . .  I could use a break from snake and cactus. . . Hmm. Gone Fishin’ looks good. . .

That yank’s looking to head to the Ozarks, been a long time since I was there. Maybe see what he’s looking for. G'Day, mate. Looking to head west, are ya?

Sounds like we're all agreed, then. Gone Fishin, it is. Since it's close, we can keep a lookout for anyone else who might want to hit the trail with us, from there.

I'm Artemus, pleased to make your acquaintance. Something fresh and not smothered in salt for me. Maybe if we're lucky, they'll have some fresh veggies and a nice ale to round it out. Heck, I'll get a full belly and want a bath and shave to make me 'purdy for the ladies.

In reply to Artemus Carson (msg #17):

Howdy Pardner.

So Sarge, what'd you have in mind to do out west?

Chance delays the answer to that question until dinner that night.  Chance will buy the dinner for everyone as a pre-thank you.  So over dinner, Chance says...

Well, that's a good question.  I've lost touch with my family in the Ozarks, Mizzou to be exact.  See, my father died before the war and my older brother took over the farm.  My little sister was married off and I never even knew the fellow.  My grandfather is a drifter and a grifter and showed up just before I left.  This troubles me greatly, and I'm thankful for the traveling companionship.  I'll need to sort out the bits and bobs when I get there.  Once things are settled, I think I want to head further west and work demolitions with the railroad.

Having good men to travel with is very important.  I fear there my be many desperados looking to take advantage of the brave men who fought for their convictions.  I'm glad that bloody turmoil is over now.  All's the better to bury the hatchet.

Chance lifts his root beer to the group of fine man gathered at the table and says To the men we buried and the ones we lost, may the Lord guide their souls in the ever after.  Amen.

Did I ever tell you about the guy who wore whisky bottle glasses?
This message was last edited by the player at 00:35, Sun 03 Aug 2008.

In reply to Chance Osterfeld (msg #20):

Whisky bottle glasses? Let me order up another ale and I'll be ready to listen.

In reply to Chance Osterfeld (msg #20):

Glad Sarge is buying, I'm HUNGRY!