Ward sighs. "I suppose that's true, but as I've already relieved Dave of his position for yesterday's unpleasantness coupled with this current outrage, the outcome is the same regardless."

He nods at Carl's admission of pain. "I can prepare a soothing elixir for you, if you like. But I fear that may not be helpful in the long run. This sort of damage will take time to repair, and resources upon which I have not had to draw thus far."

He frowns again at Carl's explanation. "If you are correct, and the whole Society is endangered, then I will have to gather them to help me put the Serpent back in it's restful slumber. Do you know of any of the other members that it has attacked in this foul, underhanded manner?" He shakes his head. "No. Of course not. If the others are having problems, they are subtle ones, only visible in aggregate. Glenn has mentioned no issues, and I have not had word from Arthur or the Widow Bradshaw in the last week...I should seek them out, see if they are being harassed on their own projects."

Ward sighs. "I am so very, very sorry that you and the rest of the men have become the target of the Serpent's ire. Can you think of why it might allow Nathanial's restless shade to hunt you instead of coming for me? Aside from keeping me in the dark about it's planned treachery?"

"BOTHER!" Ward shouts, slamming the table and knocking the basin of water over. Water seeps into the carpet as Ward stands and paces back and forth. "The ranger coming here. Of course. This could not happen at a worse time! I have too much to do to have one of those officious lackwits prodding about my works. I have a gathering to call, a Serpent to tame, a rabid band of Comanches to put down, and I still need to figure out what caused the Federal men to rise from their graves! The whole project hinges on having the treated cattle ready for market...No, this won't do. This won't do at all."

In reply to John Smith (msg #40):

Once John finishes his story, Gangatsu launches into her own mini tale, mentioning her conversation with the giant Tex, her troubles with Ward after voicing her suspicions about his character, her talk with Gus about the dangers of the mine, her vision of an awakening serpent, and adding in what she overheard during the appearance of the Comanche Shaman, how he seemed interested in releasing the serpent from it's slumber to wreck havoc on the world.

Zhang listens impassively, then speaks.

"I hear two different accounts of our benefactor, this man Ward. He seems to be a complicated person. On the one hand, he treats with dangerous entities and surrounds himself with violent allies. On the other, his actions have been noble and he seems willing to listen. Tell me, do you think he can be trusted to help us remove the curse from this land?"

Carl frowns, gestures at the range. "?" He continues to look concerned, indicating himself. "?"

There's a slight headshake at the offer of painkiller - you didn't have to watch a drunkard injure themselves long to appreciate the function of pain. His single experience with laudnum, when someone had dragged him out of the badlands and treated the gunshot wound picked up fetching Jesse from that Nagadotches mess long after the Ranger was involved, made him fear such loss of control. He could live with it. Or un-live with it, whatever he was doing.
There's faint shock at the news the Widow Bradshaw has been playing with the Snake, which makes him worried.

Carl makes a small, swift throwing gesture. "..."
The exclamation makes him wince, head ringing. When he can focus again he taps the desk for attention, looks up at Ward seriously and moves his hand away from his body. "..." There's an indication of overhead lines, tap of the ear, then a nod out where the Comanches were last seen. "..."

Then an unhappy nod at the fireplace, vage point at himself and indication of something rising.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:22, Sat 24 Sept 2011.

"Permanently." Ward says. "I simply cannot excuse his actions. He was involved in the attack against the Marshal, which lead to the death of Charles Landers and the disappearance of Lucas Herbert. Bill McCoy still hasn't reported for work since the incident in town with the automaton. He egged your friend Jesse Hohlfeld into dueling the ranger, costing me yet another hand. And he nearly incited a riot. As one of my employees, his actions reflect on me, and I do not with to be seen around town as some sort of tyrant protecting violent thugs from retribution. Until he has learned to master his temper and made amends to those he has wronged, he cannot be a part of this operation."

"As for you," he sighs, "I don't know. I shall have to consider these developments. Continue with your duties for now while I review the situation."

Ward frowns. "I should hope it won't come to that. I sincerely do. But if the ranger is not willing to listen to reason...yes. If the Ranger seems eager to jeopardize everything we've built and could achieve, then she will have to be stopped, and you can have your satisfaction."

Ward's frown deepens. "One of ours? Who? Or do you mean Nathanial?"

Carl mimes pinning a badge when Bill is mentioned. He just looks at Ward with a near-inhumanly blank stare when he mentions Jesse's death. As if he needed reminding. He narrows his eyes a little at the 'incitement to riot'. "?"

He continues to look up at Ward, something in the set of his shoulders speaking of determination. "?" The wrangler takes a breath, feeling each rib scraping raw flesh. "..." Then he winces, quite visibly as though at some sharp and unexpected pain, looking down. Too soon. He did not want to touch that grief. Move. Carl looks up again, then meaningfully from his empty hands to Ward, gesturing at the other ranch buildings, then presses two fingers to his burn like a gun barrel. Deadly serious. "..."

There's a nod to Ward's ruling on the Question of the Ranger.

Carl shakes his head at the last (regrets it) and holds up right finger and thumb at right angles. Then stares at it, trying to work out if the letter is the right way round.

John thought about this for a long moment and mulled what he knew of Doctor Dexter Ward about in his head, for all his being a guest in his house he didn't know a whole lot about the man. "Well, I know he's a right gentleman and seems to hold that high. Keeps his word and the like, holds to hospitality and respect, doesn't mean he won't kill a man or seek power from things like this serpent. I'd be willin' to bet that if he gives his word he intends to keep it though." he said at last. "But he's certainly connected to this snake thing. So I'd say you can trust him to be a gentleman and keep his word, yes."

"Has he?" Ward says, peaking an eyebrow. "Well, he hasn't come by for his wages. If you do see him again, please send him my way. I think we have much to discuss."

Ward frowns. "Yes. Yes, I am aware of the situation. I suppose I only have myself to blame for inviting the Indian onto these grounds. If he is, indeed, guilty of the crimes he is accused of, then I regret saving his life the other night. But as long as that guilt is in question, he deserves his day in court, not summary lynching. That sort of behavior is uncivilized." He pauses, thinking. "If you can secure me something belonging to the Indian, perhaps a lock of hair or a cherished item, I can determine his guilt or innocence beyond a shadow of a doubt, and then you can do with him what you will. Whipping the townsfolk into murderous frenzy is not a long-term solution to such matters."

Ward sighs. "Should he manage to do so, and if, IF he can demonstrated such to my satisfaction, then yes. I do not have high hopes for that outcome, but I suppose anything is possible."

"There's no need for such melodrama, Carl." Ward says with a sigh. "But I understand. Let's get to the bottom of our troubles before we let recriminations fly. You may remain at your duties until the situation has calmed down. After that, I shall review the matter."

He frowns at Carl's attempts to spell. "I had not heard of this. Do you mean to tell me Lucas Herbert was turned into one of those...those abominations? You need to tell me more about this. This could be vitally important, Carl."

Carl nods, then looks very grim and pretends to grip a coat lapel. "..."

He seems relieved at the admission, then shrugs slightly and meets Ward's eyes with a feral stare and show of teeth. Not quite human enough in context to be called a grin. Ghost rabies. Hard to be melodramatic. He nods at the last, reluctantly. "..."

Carl nods, indicates something rising, ranger, face attack, something down, something burnt up, never moved elsewhere. "..." Shrugs.

In reply to John Smith (msg #46):

Zhang nods. "Then perhaps he can be trusted to do what is right, in the end." He looks down at the bed. "John, I am still weak, and will be some time in healing. I can advise, but I cannot participate in what is to come." He looks up, his eyes boring into John's soul. "I need you to put what you have learned into saving this place, these people. I will give you what help I can, but for once I am afraid I have no ideas on how to begin."

John nods. "Very well." he said solemnly. "I think I do, I'll meet back up with the Marshall, he's a right smart man, probably knows a little more about the current situation at the least." He stands and makes to move to the door before pausing "I'm, um, glad you're doing better." Then, barring any further words from Zhang he figures Gangatsu would likely prefer to have words alone with him and takes his leave.

As John leaves, he finds Abraham, the black servant, waiting by the door.

"How's he doing, sir?"

"He's better. Talking. Seemed to think his rescue was a hallucination at first. Still weak though." John explains. He paused and looked at Abraham recalling the servants near brush with death as well. "Yourself?" he asked. Genuinely curious and figuring it was only polite to enquire.

In reply to Carl (msg #48):

A very dark look storms across Ward's face. "If that should prove the case, then I trust you will administer a most appropriate and gruesome fate. But I want to know for certain first. I understand what rumor and hearsay can do to a good man's reputation...or an evil one, for that matter. That is why I want to investigate the matter that will provide conclusive proof of the man's guilt or innocence." He bends over and picks up the dish he knocked over with his outburst, with only a slight frown at the stain of water seeping into the rug. "A man's past is contained within his being, Carl. It infuses every bit of him. Even the smallest piece of him can provide a glimpse into that past, if one knows the proper technique of looking. A man cannot escape his guilt from one who knows these techniques. Likewise, the innocent man need not fear, for he shall be exonerated." He places the dish in front of him again. "If we are to counter any such rumors of toleration for such depredations, we must have truth at our disposal. Think about what rumors would be spread if the townsfolk had killed what turned out later to have been an innocent man."


Ward rubs his chin. "That is...most distressing, Carl. I'm going to need to speak with her about this. Get her perspective." He stands. "I have to prepare for the Ranger's coming. You are dismissed, Carl. Go about your duties."

In reply to John Smith (msg #52):

He raises his arm, which is in a white sling. "Oh, these old bones will manage. I'll heal." He drops his eyes to the ground. "Thanks to you. I know what you've done for me. I could hear the cherubs singing, sir, before you called me back. Ain't many out there who would do what you done, especially for an old Negro like me. So from the bottom of my heart I want to thank you."

Carl watches Ward as he talks with a faint frown of concentration, then nods respectfully and makes his way out, detouring at a thought to soak his handkerchief in vinegar (they seem to have a lot of vinegar right now for some reason).

Outside, he takes a moment to look at the dark-whorled expanse of the sky, admiring it and breathing in the cool air, feeling the wood of the porch post under his hand. Forgetting grief, the pain just a presence, up against his bones. Who could wish to die, whilst there were days left in the world?
He checks his palm and wipes it on his jeans, makes sure no blood remains.

Carl goes and shrugs on his coat, checks his shotgun over, and paces to see who all's still about. He's particularly looking for Percy, since he'd prefer an answer from him before heading into town, but a companion or so would be good with that cat walking and he needs someone else to find and tell Dave the boss 'remembered' he could come back 'soon as he apologised proper-like. The man won't want Carl chasing him right now.

Carl heads out looking for Percy. He usually has Barn Duty this time of day.

The new barn on Ward's property is...barnlike. Not much different than any barn in other parts of the country. It's filled with the milk cattle, who are quietly lowing as they chew their feed...and one sobbing teenager, curled into the corner.

Carl's pleased with the healthy state of the recently-got Jerseys - nice bit of income, these, with the ironic scarcity of milk in cattle country - and takes a moment to spot Percy in a ball on the floor, since that's not where he expects him to be. His heart does a hard, painful thump in his flesh.

The wrangler moves swiftly over, undecided fear and anger curdled in his chest. His step is quiet and he tries to move to block the exit in case the boy should bolt in shame as he approaches. If Percy stays, he'll get close enough to crouch and put a hand on his shoulder and meet his gaze when he looks up. "...?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:42, Tue 04 Oct 2011.

Percy looks up at Carl, tears streaming down his face, his spectacles in disarray. There's a smoking ring burned into the center of his forehead.

"I...I saw him...I saw him, Carl...I saw Nate! he...he said..."

Something in Carl snaps at the sight of the burn, like a white-hot wire through the heart rending apart. It might be a bond of loyalty, or the urge for self-preservation that has kept him here seeking help this long, or just part of his soul that's taken grief after betrayal after grief. It's only a little pain. For a moment he doesn't even dare touch the boy or move for fear one of them will crumble to ash.

The slide of tears breaks the illusion; Carl nods and puts a finger to his lips. The killing stillness is back in his stance but there's nothing but raw and helpless love for the kid he's failed to protect as he leans close to get Percy's arm over his shoulder. His skull rests against Percy's a moment. "..." Then he jerks his head up and towards the house, ignoring pain. Knowing what he has to do. This, and one thing first.

Percy nods and mumbles something, still clearly shaken. Carl hauls him to his feet, and the pair make towards the house.

But before they clear the barn doors, a shadow falls over the pair. A large, large shadow.

"Carl." The giant, flayed Dust Adder says, blocking the exit with his girth. There's a buzzing in the air, like the rattle of a mighty snake.

Carl looks up and nods warily to Tex, standing very still and aware of Tex's swipe range. He's not sure how much of the previous meeting Tex would have managed to grasp or if he realised Carl had been defending him...the way Tex's mind worked this might be a delayed reaction to his injuring Dave. Without Gus around, it made him uneasy.

He indicates how he's supporting Percy, nods outward.

"Did Carl hurt Percy?" the giant asks. "Did Carl hurt him...like he hurt Dave? Like...he hurt Nate?"

He takes a thunderous step forward, massive arms swinging into grab range. "Tex jus' saw Nate. Nate cold. Nate see-through now. Nate tell Tex, Carl gunna hurt his friends. Gunna hurt Gus. Gunna hurt Mistah Wiggles."

He takes another step forward. "Tex gunna stop Carl afore he hurts anyone else."

Carl frowns and gives a quick headshake of denial, letting Percy go as hastily as he can without risk of the boy falling, nodding to the relative safety of the wall. He shakes a finger at the word 'Nate', teeth bared, and steps back, pointing at himself, at Percy, then Tex himself with a cast-away gesture towards the town.

The mute rasps, trying to form the word 'Dave', but the pain in his throat defeats him and the time for explanation slips away. He backs another couple of steps towards the front rail of the stalls to his right, drawing Tex away from Percy, then stands straight. Big wolf, he thinks.

The chances of Tex instinctively reacting submissively to the posturing are low, but the giant will have associations of him and that look, associations of getting in Trouble. Carl was, of course, That Boy Y'all Don't Ought Play With, after all. Skinny, mean and always covered in bruises from fights or the getaways or hidings earnt by his wicked adventures (mostly, in fact, earnt by simply being too slow and in reach of the bottle demon or at most laughing aloud, but that sort of thing was far less impressive to kids), he'd been a walking dare to those whose parents had warned them away from Bad Influence. Ma Shaw's beloved memory: lady, please save me now, he prays, and grins that old half-wild grin.


[[Intimidate: 8, (or 7, if he's still carrying hangover penalties) blue spent. buying time by puffing up like the monster Tex has him down as at present]]

John blinked, he wasn't blind to prejudice but he wasn't expecting such heartfelt thanks for something he thought anyone would have done. Or at least would have tried to do. "Well, you're welcome." he said as he tried to think of something more appropriate. "Life is life and I reckon the true measure of a man runs much deeper than skin." Sounded about right. He offered his hand, the one that would be more convenient for Abraham to shake, "I'm sure I'll see you around before long, my Master is here after all, but until next time it was nice makin' your acquaintance."

"Oh, you're leaving us?" He says, taking the offered hand and shaking it earnestly. "Well, until our paths cross again."