In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #240):

"Oh I'm just so thrilled we could come to an arrangement."  Kat's voice was just flat, not really sarcastic or enthusiastic, just weary.

With the issue of payment settled, Underhill pockets the 5 dollars down and bids Robert lay flat. He gives Robert a dose of "Dr. Marner's Marvelous Medicine," which tasted heavily of honey and mint masking a bitter aftertaste.

He washes the wounds out, which stings quite a bit, and takes tweezers to pull out errant chunks of salt. That done, he makes several stitches 9though not as many as Robert may expect).

The whole ordeal only takes a quarter of an hour.

"Well. I must say, this is some of my finest work on either side of the pale." Underhill chuckles to himself. "How do you feel?"

[[OOC: Underhill is an Extra, so he just get his base die. Silas Underhill rolled 0 using 1d4-3, rerolling max with rolls of 3. Healing check. I'll spend a Red Chip from my GM pool.

Silas Underhill rolled 13 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+6+1)13. red chip. huh. Wow. Robert is a lucky man. That heals all three wounds and removes the Ugly injury]]

Robert pokes his face gingerly, and wiggles his jaw from side to side.  "That feels very good, excelling.  Well worth the five dollars in your pocket.  As to the other matter, I owe you another five dollars for buring that yankee.  But you said the Dr. Ward paid you twenty dollars to creamate it.  And unless my ageing memory is playing me false, the body, after it got up and started talking crazy, was buried in the street by Alouette.  So, Mr. Underhill,  where is the body?  Buries in the street, buried in boot hill, or creamated?"

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #246):

"The headless one brought in today was cremated, and the one you brought in last night is, currently, residing underneath the crossroads where that weird machine put it, though I have been asked by our illustrious mayor to disinter it and place it properly in our local cemetery. I was, in fact, planning on removing it under cover of darkness, so as not to disturb gentlefolk."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:29, Tue 31 Aug 2010.

Robert nods.  "To many corpses to keep track of.  So you haven't actually done that for which I owe you five dollars.  If I pay you now, will you do it, or are you planning on leaving town?"

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #248):

"You owe me for the embalming I performed on the corpse after you brought it in, the coffin it busted when it got up again, and the mental anguish it inflicted on me and every other citizen of Blackthorn, sir, so I would say that it really doesn't matter either way, does it?"

"Actually, I paid for burial, and it's not done yet.  If I owe the town for mental anguish, I should pay them, not you."  Robert rises.  "I am a man of my word, as soon as it is buried, I will pay you, that was our verbal contract.  I could pay you for the coffin with a favor, if you like.  I could tell everyone in town what a good doctor you are, and how you are much better than Dr. Ward.  How you helped me recover from injuried inflicted upon me by those dastardly Dust Adders.  How you, in your own way, fought against the Dust Adders as much as the Marshal and his deputies.  I could even ask Evans to make you an honerary deputy, so everyone knowns where your loyalties lie." Robert waits with a small smile for Underhill to take his meaning.

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #250):

Mr. Underhill looks like he's doing some mental calculations. "Hmm...the way you say it, that sounds almost like a good thing. However, I believe I made my position on the matter of affiliation clear. So thank you kindly, sir, but I don't think so. Coin will do nicely, and will ensure that my services remain available to you, should any more unfortunate incidents occur during your stay in town. After all, the next time the Dust Adders ride, they may be more inclined to load their hoglegs with lead shot instead of rock salt."

"Either way he's not leaving town."  Kat made that point abundantly clear.  She had sat down and put the weapons away now that everyone was playing nice, and listening to what had been said, which was filling in many of the gaps.  She flipped her harmonica end over end, visually checking the reeds, but not playing it for fear of disturbing the undertaker's hand.

She had no idea where Mickle-Fwate was going with all this, but was becoming more and more convinced this guy probably sold wind to Amarillo at a generous comission.

"Oh, I don't mind at all.  I'll even make sure to tell Dr. Ward and all who work for him that you are on the side of law and order."

OOC: i'm trying to pull a varient of the trick, where you tell a criminal you are going to let it be known that he cooperated with the police; if Ward / the Dust Adders think Underhill is on our side, they might come gunning for him; basically I'm hoping he'll get nervous and say not to worry about the broken coffin

"Oh, you don't need to go to any such trouble. If you're strapped for cash, then I'd accept you working off your debt. And since your so eager to do favors, well, I have something else in mind a little less likely to have either of us pushing up daisies. In fact, if you were willing to do this one thing for me, I would go so far as to forgive all the funerary debt." Underhill smiles. "But we can haggle over this affair later. I believe the lady and I had things to discuss over dinner?"

[[OOC: I get that. Underhill is still quite a greedy cuss, though, and isn't quite going to give things up without a fight, and slimy enough to change tactics.]]

Robert gets up and turns to leave.  "Just let me know when the body is buried.  Miss, if you will accompany me, I am going to find the Marshal, I don't doubt he will want to speak with you."

"Marshal Evans has kindly asked me to give him a moment's peace in light of the hellish night he's been through, but I reckon ya ought to let him know you're in good repair.  I won't be long though, if this hombre wants to eat his beans while I jaw at him it don't matter to me none."

Wildcat had a feeling that whatever was about to happen wasn't want Underhill was imagining.

With a tip of his hat Robert leaves to find Evans.  On the way there, he sees the man-mountain carrying his friend.  If they didn't let him go, well, I probably can't stop him. he muses to himself

OOC: I thought there was a map of the entire town, I'm not sure if Marshall's office would be closer or the Grand Bull.  in any case...

Robert makes it to the Grand Bull.  "Howdy marshal.  Underhill did a good job of stitching me up.  I passed the big man on the street..."

In reply to John Smith (msg #243):

The ingredients John looks for aren't difficult to find. Evans accepts them gratefully and begins to work, using shot glasses and drink shakers from the bar to hold his concoction.

It takes him a few minutes of cutting, squeezing, measuring, and mixing, but eventually he winds up with a clear, slightly yellow liquid that fizzes and bubbles alarmingly. He pours himself a shot and grimaces. "Should have added some sugar," He mutters, then proceeds to tear the linens John found into strips and apply bandages to himself. "Thank you very much, John. I feel a world better. Nothing like Dr. Evan's Patented Miracle Fizzy Drink to soothe the nerves, calm the soul, and ease pain. You are welcome to a shot yourself, if you'd like. There's plenty to go around. Oh, and if you'd be so kind as to give a glass to Roland to bring him around, I'd appreciate it."

At Robert's entrance, Evans allows himself a grin. "Well, he didn't kill you. I'm impressed. I hope he didn't gouge you too much. Pull up a chair and have a drink with me." He offers a glass of his suspiciously fizzy concoction. "Ah, yes. I decided to release the giant and his companion, as we don't currently have a jail to hold them in. A peace offering, if you will, though I somehow doubt we've heard the last of this matter."

[[OOC: Evans uses his Gadgeteer Edge to create a temporary Succor power, with 10 power points. It takes him 10 minutes and comes in the form of an especially fizzy drink.

He uses Succor on himself to soothe his bumps and bruises. The Amazing Evans rolled 3,2 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,2. Mad Science! Ugh. Spending one of Evan's Red Chips for a bonus. The Amazing Evans rolled 1 using 1d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1. red chip. Just enough.]]

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #256):

Underhill waits while Robert takes his leave, then offers a lopsided bow to Wildcat. "Well, ma'am, what's your pleasure? I'm afraid I only have bacon, eggs, and beans to offer, but you are welcome to share in my humble repast before we get into a serious conversation."

John gives a shrug of his shoulders and after acquiring a glass moves over to Roland and attempts to feed him the drink. He found himself pondering the events that had occurred particularly the information he had overheard during Gangatsu's conversation and found himself hoping she would come in and relay her knowledge to Evans before too long. "There you go." he said as he finished pouring the fizzy concoction down the mans throat and set the glass upon the bard, or whatever remained of it before returning to his seat.

In reply to Silas Underhill (msg #259):

Not looking too impressed, Kat is at least direct with the undertaker.  "Whatever tickles your fancy and loosens up your jaws."

She had thought to expedite this, but realizing she had nowhere in particular to be at this moment and that she needed to shut up and listen some more, decided it was all right to just let him take his time.  She had heard some mighty strange things since she'd been here.  Austin would need to know what was actually going on in the morning.

Besides, it was better to absorb pieces of this narrative from different perspectives, and this character clearly had a different perspective on what was going on here than anyone else she'd encountered.  She had a short list of people who had caused these developments, but it was too speculative at this point.

The town had another problem she was beginning to gauge too.

"You don't seem to think much of the law."  She added, prodding him a little bit to see if he'd elaborate more.

Underhill moves to the stove at the corner of the rooms, and scrapes together victuals from some pans that had been sitting there. "Oh, drat. The bacon burned a bit. I hope you like yours extra crunchy."

He returns with two tin plates with eggs over heard, very brown strips of bacon, and baked beans. He sets one before Wildcat, and hands her a fork, then takes a seat across form her.

"Well, I've had some unfortunate misunderstandings with the law in the past. If I may be candid, lawmen as a whole tend to be surly, paranoid, and don't have enough trust in their cold, shriveled hearts to lend a dime to their mommas. It's the same on both sides of the Mason-Dixion Line...the only real difference is what they're calling themselves and how they try to trap you. Although I must say, most officers of the law I've met aren't nearly as pretty as you."

In reply to John Smith (msg #260):

"Thanks." Robert downs the drink, sneezing at the fizzyness.  "Underhill said Ward paid him $20 to cremate the body of the second yankee.  So there's something about those bodies Ward doesn't want anyone to find out.  He talking to that Ranger right now.

So what's the plan?  Can we go arrest anyone?"

In reply to Silas Underhill (msg #262):

Kat sighed and rolled her eyes.

"All right sir let me get one thing real straight with you right now.  I ain't your town marshal.   I don't mess around with no due process.  Fellers like that lawyer do figger that out fer me after the fact.

"I make decisions.  Shoot it, Arrest it, or Let it Be.  Now I ain't about to shoot ya.  And I ain't gonna sit here and badger you over the head wit' threats, but I'll tell you straight up I will tie you to a hitching post if I have to.  But I'd really rather not.  Pain in my ass.

"So here's what's going to happen.  I ain't much for fancy rhetoric, I just lay things out, and if you can't deal with it we got a problem.  First, I ain't gonna have to tie you up somewhere like a jackass because yer gonna be sociable.  I know you can be sociable, can't ya?

"Second, I want to know every last damn thing you can tell me about dead Yankees who ain't dead, who paid you the twenty dollars, anything the Dust Adders have threatened you with.  Names, dates, times, the works.  I'm looking to make arrests tomorrow or as soon as possible, I need some hard facts.

"Third, I am going to spell this out for you.  The law has come back to Blackthorn.  It's going to be business as usual.  No talk of dead Yankees, no skipping town, and if the Dust Adders ask you to do anything, unless they physically sit there with a gun to yer head, you don't lift a damn finger to do it until you tell me.  And if somebody pulls that shit on you again, they're gonna wind up dead or in jail.  Comprende?"

The fizzy drink tastes strongly of lemon juice and club soda and has a bitter aftertaste, but it leaves Robert feeling revitalized afterward.

[Private to Robert Micklethwait: Picture lemon-flavored Alka-Seltzer and you'll be in the right ballpark, as that's essentially what it is...Mad Science Alka-Seltzer]

At John's ministrations, the barkeep blinks awake. "Merde." He says. "My head hurts."

He stands and looks around the shattered bar. Tables are overturned, there's half a table through the wall, there is glass everywhere..."Merde." He says again, to no one in particular.

Evans takes another sip of his fizzy drink. "I haven't decided. Without a jail, holding anyone would be difficult, and we still don't know what happened to the circuit judge, so if I were to arrest anyone I'd have to face the possibility of an attempt to break them out, which would likely be violent and bloody and might wind up costing innocents their lives." He toys with the empty glass. "And pursuing them on to Ward's property is out of the question...my jurisdiction to pursue criminals ends at the town limits. Having a Ranger around might help with the jurisdiction problem, but even with her we would be outnumbered three to one. And I, for one, do not ever want to tangle with that behemoth again."

He lets out a long sigh. "Frankly, at this point I am strongly considering following Nathanial's advice to pack up and quit town forever, and let the Ranger deal with this whole mess."

"What about, well, I can be a mite persuasive.  From where I sit, they came in and left a few bodies behind, none of us died.  We won, more or less.  If we get some townsfolk with rifles, in buildings or on rooftops next time any of 'em come to town, well, we can go out there and arrest 'em.  With luck they'll resist..."

Underhill laughs. "Well, you certainly have guts, I'll give you that." he says, taking a few bits of his food. "I'm interested in hearing how you plan on taking on all the Dust Adders at once without winding up in a shallow grave somewhere. The last person to take a stand against them was Reverend Harris." He chews his food thoughtfully. "He then left town quick, in the dead of night, and left all his worldly possessions behind. A cynical person might think he didn't leave town alive. And as for business as usual...it's because the law tried to come back to Blackthorn that everything went down the way it did, mark my words. Evans kicked the hornet's nest and riled them up, and now they're swarming. If you tangle with one of them, you had best be prepared to take them all. I am not that brave."

He takes his time with the beans before continuing. "Look, this town is owned by Doc Ward. Bought and paid for. His ranch is the only thing that keeps this town going, ever since the mine closed down. The Dust Adders are his hands, eyes, ears. And even better, they are the sons, fathers, and brothers of the folks here. They are locals who had nowhere else to turn when the mine went bust. You start clapping irons on them without knowing what you're doing, and you'll find the whole town turning out to make you the guest of honor at a necktie party, just itching to watch you dance the hemp fandango. Even bad boys have their mamas."

"So here's what I know. The dead Yankees? Never heard of 'em before last night, when your lawyer friend brought one in to me, said he'd died of some kind of fever out on the road to town. I took the stiff in, and prepared a coffin. And it was dead. I ain't much of a doctor, I'll freely admit, but I know a live body from a dead one. only it didn't stay that way. It busted it's way out of the coffin singing the goddamn Battle Hymn of the Republic, then started weaving through the streets yelling about Armageddon until Evans and his new deputies put it down. Then that crazy machine buried it, right at the crossroads outside the Grand Bull Saloon, which had the Mayor pitching a fit. And, to top it off, this afternoon Doc Ward himself comes in here with a headless corpse in Union Blue and a head in a bag to go with it, and gives me $20 to cremate the corpse and ask no further questions about it, which I did. So if you want any more than that, I can't help you."

In reply to Robert Micklethwait (msg #266):

"I counted two, maybe three bodies on their side, and several near bodies on ours, including yours and mine. Hardly what I would call an unqualified victory. We were lucky, Robert. If Mr. Smith and the Ranger here had not shown up when they did, and if the giant had been just the slightest bit deeper in it's rage, then I fear we would be having this discussion on the way to see St. Peter for our harps and halos. Unlike what you may have read in the dime novels, the Calvary is not always going to swing down in the nick of time and save everyone."

"I see merit in that idea, but I fear that unless you are very sure you have the townsfolk on your side willing to pull those triggers, it will be the Lago Massacre all over again. I know that Roland might be willing to help with that, if that's something you want to pursue, but I can't really think of anyone else who'd lift a finger to stop them."

"Mostly, I want to get to the bottom of this dead Yankee business. Where are they coming from? How many more can we expect? Miss Gangatsu said there were five of them, which I think we've accounted for, but someone else seemed quite interested in our conversation earlier. Did you ever find out more about that, by-the-by?"

"We have some clues, but we don't have enough to get the whole picture. We have five dead union soldiers...or was that four with one survivor? I would love to be able to ask some questions of the man that Gangatsu spoke with, but Ward managed to spirit him away and I sincerely doubt we'll be able to question him now. They had Ghost Rock on them, and Gangatsu said they'd been forced to mine it locally. But if there were a Ghost Rock mine here, wouldn't others know of it, too? Ghost Rock strikes don't tend to remain quiet for long."

[Private to Robert Micklethwait: If you're curious about the Lago Massacre, either ask Evans for more details or make a Common knowledge roll for me]