OOC:  That door is the reason Wildcat won't leave them in here without her or Evans watching.  She does not trust Cantrell to not shut it.  I don't suppose there's an old banister or rail or anything of the sort Wildcat can jam in between the gap between the door's hinges and the vault itself?

I hope that makes sense.  Imagine opening a door of any kind, and notice there's a gap there, that's what I'm trying to shove something into.

If we had a length of chain and a padlock I'd run it around the hinges to prevent accidental closure but I doubt that's available.

Also assuming it's about been about half an hour.

"All right this outta work just fine.  Marshal, I ain't due back to th' telegraph fer 'bout an hour and a half, but fact is I'm gonna have to eat at some point and them too.  How you wanna handle the legwork?"

She turns her attention to the inmates Carl and Charging Bear.  "All right fellers, yer gonna walk in there to opposite corners and put yer nose in th' corner with a gun pointed at ya.  Marshal Evans will step in, and he will uncuff you one at a time, but you ain't gonna move, understand?  You do and I'll plug you.  But I don't think that'll be a problem and there ain't gonna be no need fer such, I think we'll all be friendly won't we?"

If they comply with the plan, Kat will draw her gun and cock the hammer once they're in the vault and nod to Evans.  She'd do this part herself normally, as she remembers Evans' quip about being inept in hand to hand combat but she reasons that if Cantrell pulls anything, she'll be better off bearing the brunt of his sucker blow.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:54, Thu 18 Nov 2010.

Seeing his contact go down in a bloody heap with a broken bottle to the head, David decides it's time to fetch the law.  Clapping his hat to his head he slips out of the bar to find the town Marshal.

[Private to GM: I figured he might already know the office is blowed up.  If he saw which way Evan's went, he'll go, or he'll ask]

As the old man crumples, the brawl around him continues.

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #218):

[[OOC: You should be able to fashion something to block the outer door from closing without too much trouble, though it Cantrell were of a mind to he could probably remove the obstruction.]]

Carl makes token resistance to being frisked, to show he doesn't appreciate it. He's otherwise compliant, though, his whistled song of wolves hunting down an unwary lady echoing around the empty building's walls until he's ushered into the vault. Though he paces over to his corner tamely enough, anyone touching the Dust Adder will feel the coiled-spring tension down his muscles.

Carl knows he could get out of this, but he's playing safe, playing nice...hopefully Evans will let him go soon enough, so that he can bark Dave down and keep a few others out of trouble before they have any more bright ideas involving alcohol and dynamite. He's ready, but not looking forward to the beating, however. The savage has been placid this far, but that didn't mean a whole lot with that one.

The native son has stayed quiet, perhaps taking stock of the situation or perhaps sizing up the quartet who are locking him up. Every dozen or so steps he tests the cuffs that Wildkitten put on him. They don't break to their credit, but they sound like they might snap at any time.

As he is told to enter the vault he takes a moment to look the holding vault over.  Charging Bear nods, mostly to himself as though finding the place acceptable. After the formality of the handcuff removal, which Charging Bear does nothing strange about. He inquires, "Any chance of getting a couple of cots?"

Evans nods to Wildcat. "I can do that, assuming I don't have to deal with yet another crisis on my way there." he lowers his voice. "Which I am sincerely hoping I don't have to. I can only shoot one, perhaps two more bursts of glue from my contraption, and despite my boast I don't actually think I'll be able to get it working again after that, unless I take a whole day to go over the inner workings."

Evans heads into the cell and removes the cuffs, grateful that the two prisoners don't give him any problems. "I'll see what I can do." he says to Charging Bear.

He heads out of the cell. "Your prisoners, Miss Hawkins." he says, then turns to Elijah Fuller. "Well, then. If you want to chronicle things, you can help by being an extra pair of hands. Come with me...I have some errands to run."

With that, he heads outside, back into the rain...right into the path of David Fletcher...

Wildcat put her gun back in its holster after a couple of manipulations which put the hammer back down on the empty chamber.  Her improvised door stop won't stop Cantrell from pulling that stunt, but it will keep it from being obvious what he's doing, and it won't be as quick.

She looks around to see if there's a chair (for her, standing up all night is a noble sentiment but a waste of precious energy), or anything she can squeeze through the bars for the inmates that might have some utility (nothing comes to mind).

Beyond that it's a lot of hurry up and wait.  After a few moments of awkward looking about and improvising door stops and whatnot have passed, she looks to Carl and pulls the harmonica out of her pocket.

"Ya like songs do ya Adder?  I got one for ya."

Katrina's skill in the harmonica was amateurish, but really, what suited a jail better than a warbling mouth organ?  Nevertheless the choice of a meaningful song matched his tit for tat as she played The Streets of Laredo.

Elijah doesn't flinch under the look he receives from the prisoner, just returning a bigger grin.  He's the sort, like Daniel Boone, to just grin down a bear.  Works on occaision.  Right up till it doesn't.  Once the Marshal takes things in hand, he thumbs the hammer carefully back down and reholsters his pistol.  He'll nod a friendly nod to the return of Hawkins and Cantrell, putting his coat back over his weapon.  The Marshal's offer is taken up, "Always ready to assist, Marshal.  It /is/ a citizens duty after all."  And with that, he'll follow along back out into the rain.

If she's listening for it, Wildcat'll catch a soft, cautious padding up to the door from the darkness of the vault, Carl moving with the expectation of a coming attack from his cellmate. It's shortly clear he's up against it, however, as a well-practiced whistling eventually joins in, carefully matched to her key and tempo.

Carl watches the barred patch of grey light thrown before him (not much of an advantage, but he'd heard an injun could see in the dark as well as a mountain cat), the heartache so strong he could almost - almost - weep. She might mean to mock him, but a song for Jesse is a song for Jesse, and damned if he'll sit out on it. He only wavers once, as the thought crosses his mind that he'd meant to have Jesse sing today, for absent friends - a voice that'd shame a mockingbird, and a memory for lyric to match, if only you got him drunk enough to forget the fear of laughter he painted over with aggression. Poor Jesse would never sing again.

It occurs to Carl that never is an awful long time.

Katy was getting carried out the back by an adder after her swoon, the world was not lost completely as the last thing she had seen was a vulgar talking man and Mister Robert in a fight against all those men.  She felt herself being pulled along and she squirmed hard, roughly shoving at the man to get him off from her.

01:20, Today: Katy Devon rolled 14,7 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (6+6+2)14,(6+1)7. vigor. [She's awake]
01:23, Today: Katy Devon rolled 9,1 using d10,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 9,1. agility vs adder.

" S-stop! Stop that at once." Pushing away from him, she pulled her gun and pointed it at the man with a very steady hand.

" You. I don't know what you and those mad men think they are doing. I don't know why everyone in this town has to be utterly crazy. I don't know what you want with me, but know this, sir. You boys are going to leave me alone so I can get a damn cup of tea and a warm spot by a fire. Do you understand, at all, how cold it is? Have you no sense to stay out of the rain? It's been a traumatizing few days that have tested the boundries of common decency. Please... I implore you and I will not ask again. We're going to head inside and your going to call to all your friends. And we'll talk all civil like. If not, i'm going to hide and you will come with me." She said rather confidently and a bit stern.

" So, would you kindly move back inside the saloon with me."

Charging Bear let the other's talk and play music, his mind was on how to defend himself when Cantrell and he were finally along. Taking his time and being as quiet as he could, the native son searched each cubbyholes, trying the ones that were closed and seeing what if anything the open ones might have to offer. Sure it was a mining vault, didn't mean there wasn't a weapon hidden by an employee as just in case.

Wildcat is genuinely amused that the man can whistle.  A few hymns and popular standards on the harmonica is all she's really competent at, a skill mostly honed from a handful of music lessons and lots of time like this, spent hurrying up to wait.

"All right partner-"  the use of the word was of course inappopriate but it was just a byproduct of habit, "- it seems I got your attention, an' we ain't goin' nowhere, an' I noticed ya don't seem to say much, so I'll do some jawin' for ya.  It's gonna take me a minnit or three ta get to the point, but you ain't goin' nowhere til mornin' so what time do you have ta lose?"

Wildcat shifts herself around, doing what she can with her hair, her poor suffering hair, replacing the hair pin back and otherwise settling in place for a moment.  She sets the hat aside.  Without that hat, that stoic scowl on her face or that anger in those cobalt blue eyes, she sure doesn't look like much of a ranger.  Cantrell's news is still with her, still robbing her of most of her usual acerbic speech.

"First, I gonna set a coupla things straight.  Main thing is I do understan' ya hate me, an' I don't expect nothin' I ever say ta change that.  Ya'll want we should get to killin' each other, it'll happen, simple as that.

"Now with that in mind, I had hist'ry with yer boy Jesse, but hand to Jesus I never wanted 'im to die.  Ah had the chance to kill 'im in cold blood with no consequences back in Nacogdoches when I turned that outhouse over on 'im, an' I didn't do it.  If'n I really wanted him to die at mah hand, I had th' perfect opportunity to go rogue and hunt him down way back when.  An' I had th' ability, then and now.  But th' judge let him free back then, an' I let him be.  You hear me, I let him be.  He's the one that decided our business was unfinished, to create some new business.

"I've got a gray haired momma somewhere too.  Is it any more fair she should be the one to get the news?"

The tone indicated the question was rhetorical, that as far as Kat was concerned he thought she could go to hell on the eight fifteen, but there was a pause to see if the Adder had the interest or stamina for her to continue and get to the eventual point of all this.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:36, Fri 19 Nov 2010.

"..."

There's no verbal response, but since he's not whistling, otherwise expressing lack of attention or shifting away it's very probable Carl's listening. In truth he is, quite hard, both to Wildcat's rambling and the injun scuffling about for anything sharp in the old safeboxes. Carl silently removes his belt, wrapping the ends around either fist.

In reply to Carl (msg #231):

09:08, Today: Wildcat Hawkins rolled 14,9 using d4,d6, rerolling max with rolls of (4+4+4+2)14,(6+3)9. Notice CB rooting around in there?.

One time Wildcat is definitely NOT blind.


For a moment, the ranger persona comes back.

"Hey redskin!  Cut that shit the hell out right now, dammit."

Kat was pissed.  She'd stuck her neck out for him, done the best she could to facilitate his freedom from vigilante justice and Cantrell, and now he was pulling this stunt.

She sighed.  They didn't have time to search those things tonight.  If Charging Bear still had to be in custody tomorrow, she'd have to cuff him to something else, perhaps the door but with his body around its edge so he couldn't lock her in, or perhaps Evans could come in for a time and train a gun on him or get Mr. Mickle-fwate to do it, to have time to go through them all.

"Now sit down in that other corner right there, back, to the right.  You-"  she tells Carl.  "You stay up here near the front, to the left.  Tarnation, are we going to play these stupid games all night?  Now sit yer keisters down.  What the hell is it going to accomplish if one of you brains the other?  Nothin'.  You -" she addresses Carl.  "-ain't done nothin' that one night in the pokey ain't a cure for, keep it that way.

"And yer really pissing me off Deputy Bear.  I know this ain't exactly pleasant fer you, but if'n yer past has caught up to ya, this here's the only way yer ever gonna move on.  An' both ya'll don't think I won't sit here and shoot you from complete safety.  Yer both bigger an' stronger than me, an' I'm outnumbered.  If one of ya'll does somethin' stupid I ain't got a lot of options.  An' I'd hate to be in there if I start shootin', if'n I miss the ricochet might could still get ya."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:24, Fri 19 Nov 2010.

There's a brief, hard-to-read glance back at the Ranger from Carl as he moves to her left and out of easy vision from the door bars. So, the Ranger didn't count the bounty hunter as an ally either. That was interesting. Seems he'd impressed her enough to add an inch to his height or an impression of brawn, too, though he doesn't doubt he's stronger than her.

Carl settles down and waits, wary, for the injun and/or Ranger to get on with it.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:48, Fri 19 Nov 2010.

OOC:  Assuming Charging Bear doesn't do anything, since his player is a bit out of pocket.  Still, bad Indian!  Bad!

She calms down.  "All right Adder, you can come back here closer to the door.  I didn't mean you two couldn't move at all, but it's best you just stay in opposite corners.  Ah will not tol'rate fighting in there.  This is going to be a long damn night, at least you two get to sleep in there if you can manage to somehow.  Let's not make this any harder than it already is."

There'd been enough gaffes already.  This situation was just horrible.  She was praying they'd just realize it was a waste of energy and effort to fight each other, because keeping one wary eye on Cantrell and the other on them would drain her.  If she had to open the door and go in there to break up a brawl, which she didn't like her odds of with Charging Bear in the mix and the Adder wasn't no slouch either, Cantrell would surely take advantage of it somehow.

Kat never really got wrapped up in the inherent disadvantages of her gender in her occupation, but she had to deal with reality.  She could usually fight one man on a surprisingly equal footing, maybe two if they weren't very practiced scrappers.  Then again most men would have to say the same.  Still, being shorter and lighter with less muscle where it counted did count for something.  That and she was tough, not strong, there was a difference.

She'd hoped Charging Bear would at least care enough about her to realize what she was doing and do what he could to facilitate, but that searching through the boxes stunt made her doubt it now.

"Now, ya in th' mood fer me to finish?"  She asks Carl.

Carl comes in sight of the bars with the ghost of a grin at the Ranger's dollhouse games. What was it to her if they fought?

He shrugs his uninjured shoulder at Wildcat's question, though it seems to be far more an 'if you're minded' than a dismissive kind of shrug, the man watching her with faint curiousity.


[[I'm off sick from work, but I don't think Cantrell is set to be noisy here unless CB is, so it won't torment Stray to return to thousands of posts...]]

That, and I think once Evans finds out what happened to Robert, the proverbial poo will hit the oscillating blades.  Better to get this knocked out.

Since she'd lost her momentum, Wildcat had to recap.

"Ya hate me for killing yer boy, that's fine, I'll own up to it and all the consequences, but ya'll deserved ta know and this was my only chance to tell ya.  Somethin' was taken from you, so yer entitled to the whole truth and there it is.  What you do with that informashun is on you."

Wildcat shrugs.  She doubted Carl even cared about the whole truth, both sides of that story.  But she felt he deserved to know, and it was off her back now.

"But that leads me to something I noticed today.  I didn't even realize it until that newshound said somethin' and it cleared up the cobwebs in mah head.  See ah wasn't thinkin' straight earlier.  You wantin' to gut me fer shooting Jesse, I do not take it personal.  It makes sense, it makes perfect sense don't it?  Ain't that what you fellers are all about?  Watch out fer each other?  But don't answer me yet.

"Cuz I seen two other things today that don't make a lick of sense.  Th' minor one was when you was scrappin' wit' that idjit that done plugged me full of lead, yer own boys didn't want to go help you.  They chose to sit there and hurl insults at me than go help you.  Now I ain't butthurt about it, but the point is back there with the lynch mob, I was a hell of a lot more worried about Deputy Bear not getting kilt than I was about arrestin' whoever started that mob.  Ain't saving the souls you care about more important than punishing the ones you hate?  But don't answer me yet.

"Here's what takes the cake.  Someone done told that precious little one I killed his pa.  Now I don't mind if you blame me fer it in front of all yer other Dust Adder friends in th' saloon, but why tell him that?  I understand he ain't a Dust Adder, but his pa was, and his pa done gave up his life fer you.  That boy is one of yers to protect and hold dear and you lie to him like that, about one of the most important moments in his life?  Was his pa's life worth so little to you that you have no respect for what that boy has lost?

"I take that downright personal.  I at least knew who shot my pa, and I were only about a year older than him.  Do you know what would do to him, to go thinkin' I shot his pa and it turns out to be a lie all those years later?  You let him live on a lie like that, just to get one more gun pointed at me because ya hate me?

"I can understand you all hate mah guts in a way ah don't comprehend.  I truly can, we're natural enemies.  But make me understand Adder, how can you all hate each other as much as you hate your bona fide enemies... the thought chills me to the bone, it ain't human.  Even the worst scum usually don't have it out fer their own family members.  I ain't never heard of such hate in men.

"Because from what I seen, you ain't about watchin' out fer each other, and that makes you look like the worst monsters 'magin'ble.  You probably don't give a damn what I think, an' that's fine.  But the question becomes then either how is it I'm wrong, or else how do you live like that?"

Carl watches Wildcat at an angle for a long moment, perhaps testing whether she's really willing to listen or whether she's long ago made up her mind how she'll hear any answer.

"..."

He holds up a hand, and when the words come, finally, they're low and measured and barely touched by any inflection at all:

"I kilt Nate this mornin', acause he done wrong - attacked our town, shook the boss' faith in us. He'd'a hung if I hadn't." Pause. "Now, Frost was the one taught us best to run together...we're close, but there ain't a natural order t'us like brothers, so we follow who can lead, an' for that y'need fire, y'need bite, y'need vision...I showed I got bite pretty well, an' I got vision, but Jesse always did my burnin' for me, an' I-" Carl shakes his head. Irrelevant. "So anyhow, looks like Dave decided I dint have it, lied to the boys - li'l Timothy Landers included - t'git me left out there in hopes the fancy man'd finish me. I called him on it when I limped on back, but I let him live 'cause I knew he was close with Nate an' bad cut up 'bout Charlie an' maybe he'd convinced hisself you done it. Could be I shoulda blown his brains out then."

Carl licks his lips, perhaps shaking as much from the effort of so much direct expression as the cold. "I thought it was Evans, but then Percy swore blind it was some girl playin' dime heroine." He looks across at Wildcat. "I told him to go on down to the Landers when he was fed, let 'em know. Try an' undo whatever bullshit you told the boy, help get him a life t'live."

He takes a deep breath, then, shoulders tensed, turns his back on Charging Bear to look directly at Wildcat, gripping a bar with the hand that still has his belt around. "Ranger, I never gave a damn 'bout you 'til you killed a man who was my kid brother in all but blood. Jesse meant more to me than you ever will." Grey eyes hold hers, and the stillness is back with a sense of killing cold. "I can't forgive you, 'cause you've got more t'prove than any man as was born one, an' you'll jes' drop the next dumbass farm boy who dreams too big f'himself in his tracks rather than talk him down. That's jes' how you are, no fault in it: you got no more mercy in your soul than I do."

Carl shrugs slightly, looking back a moment to check CB isn't about to jump him. "I ain't gonna waste my life hatin' you, either." His gaze returns to hers. "Which is why you got to die."

Wildcat listens carefully, quite surprised by the answer in many ways.

"So it's not that simple then ah reckon.  Ya'll ain't quite of one accord are ya'll?  Then why set yerselves apart from everyone else like that?"

That alone shocked her.  That something like that existed, such men banded together without a singular, harmonious, nefarious purpose.

"But you got a couple things wrong.  So his name is Landers.  I didn't tell him nothin', I offered him my help, if he wants it.  You may not want him to have it, but this is something I know a hell of a lot about.

"I ain't gonna sit there and lecture someone who had the worst day of their life how their daddy was this or that, they don't want to hear it.  Fact is there ain't very much you can say, at all.  But there's things you can do.  Good things, simple things.  Not go batshit crazy like ah did.

"That little one... well he really ain't little no more.  He just grew up and doesn't even know it yet.  He'll have to make decisions now, decisions he shouldn't have to make.  I can't, won't, and shouldn't make those decisions for him and neither should you.

"He deserves another chance, another point of view, and the right to choose whatever he thinks is the right path even if you personally don't like it."

Wildcat pauses.

"I have no mercy?  I guess yer right I ain't much good at talkin' people down.  Mebbe that is in my nature.  But that ain't th' same as havin' no mercy, that's just bein' bad at somethin'.

"And if you want to play that game, you were right there.  He was your man to talk down as much as mine.  But if I ain't got no mercy, how come I don't just shoot you right now and prevent yet another damn problem?

"And for that matter, forgiveness and hatred are both choices.  I'll never forgive the man who shot my pa, and I'll always hate him and those are my choices.  But yet I can live with not ever killing him."

Yay for the law abiding stipulations of Vengeful (Minor)!

OOC: will the rest of the brawl be resolved with dice, or do you want to hand wave it?

Carl laughs his silent laugh, showing teeth, and takes his time, scraping the words together. It's almost physically painful after all these years, but the Ranger wouldn't notice anything as wasn't barking at her. "...we got set apart, Ranger. I got set apart four years younger than the Landers kid, when the angels laid my mama away an' my daddy took up with the bottle demon. I never had one week of school together after that, makin' sure Pa dint kill hisself, stayin' away from those as'd make fun an' those who'd try to get me 'dopted away out of pity. Learnt t'work Sabbath 'cause beasts don't know it's Sunday."

"We ain't all spat-on sons o' drunks, 'course - there's some who jes' want free of a soft life that's hard on a man's soul, some whose family got too many mouths t'feed, pushed them out...drifters, stray folk, fightin' men who never unlearnt killin' after the war taught 'em too well...wanted men, unwanted men. Now, a woman can marry if she ain't good for nothin' else, but a man has to work."

Carl takes a space to breathe, holding up a hand to show he's not finished.

"A bunch of good-for-nothings can amount to something if it pulls together. Make a livin'. Make a life. Be a family for those who ain't got, even if they don't have any right or ejucation as how the rest of the world sees it."

The Dust Adder watches the Ranger a bit. "Lady, that boy's carryin' a weight you never had. He's the man of his house. I ain't forcin' him to take up nothin', but I'm offerin' him a way into work - a way to take the pressure off his mama so he never has to see her git worn down tired feedin' the both of them." Carl nods. "The gang'll give her what we can, call it loaned f'her pride, but most'f us have our own folks to see to. You go messin' him up with ideas 'bout the Law what never helped his Pa that's her life you mess with, an' he'll never forgive hisself."

Carl pales at the remark about his duty, lip curling. "I was tryin' t'catch some shootist at the time, dint think you were much up to calling on a fight." He leans a bit nearer the bars, expression leaving his face. "You laughed at him, I reckon. Jesse never could stand bein' laughed at. An' mercy ain't the same as not doin' what's sense, mercy's when you don't cripple a man who kicked you. I ain't done nothin' to you, Ranger."

Mouth drying, Carl spits the bad taste of glue and whiskey aside on the floor. "...an' if you shoot me, you lose your 'moral high ground' like a Yankee caught fuckin' contraband boys." His eyes meet hers again, the cold anger there that isn't in his voice. "You can't pretend you're better than us no more. 'Cause that's all there is between us - you an' your Law: masters an' a home to go to. That's what a dog is...deep down, he's jes' a wolf pretendin' to be your friend." The slight movement may be a twitch of the head at Charging Bear or it may not, just a fidget.

"So marry him," Carl shrugs. "I reckon I owe more of my time on this earth to Jesse an' h- well, what all's around me than to you."

OOC: does David find the marshal?

Noting the badge, David introduces himself.  In his distinctive Yankee accent, he tips his hat.  "Marshal?  There is a brawl at the sa-loon, and I fear an elderly deuputy of yours is badly injured."