"Easy, Spades. Don't let her rile you up."
To the ranger:"You know who I am? Then you know there's no warrant out for me in the Confederacy. On the other hand, I was Wild Bill Hickock's deputy in Abilene. Seeing as the South lays claim to Kansas... doesn't that makes somethin' like colleagues?"

He smiles, tightlipped.

"I got shot and need someone to take a look at it. Shot in the back. In a law-abiding town I'd expect the shooter to be arrested and charged with attempted murder. Guess that's just my tough luck. What's your name, ranger?"

Wildcat chuckles lightly.  "Sure, let's go wit' that.  Look if'n yer 'friend' here ain't gonna leave ya to yer own bus'ness, let's make this simple.  Ah got a better deal for ya'll than enny'un else yer ever gonna meet."

"What, you wanna drag us into this shin-dig you got goin' with the Dust Adders? Uh-uh. No how. Not unless you got enough dinero stuffed down your bust to buy us each a floaty little riverboat mansion to retire in. I've worked for the government before...ain't no money in it."

"Well it don't involve ya'll no-how, ya oughtta be mighty pleased.  There's plenty o' things in this world folks could use that ain't money feller.  Anyway the name's Hawkins, but half th' Ranger Corps calls me th' Wildcat.  Other half calls me somethin' ah won't repeat."

"Ah, but if involves Billy, it involves me, on account of he wouldn't be in this town if I'da known you were raising folk from their graves to fight the Dust Adders for ya. You're a mite pale to be practicin' voodoo, girl, but I suppose them witch doctors train all kinds, and you ain't recruitin' either o' us into your army o' the damned."

In reply to Wildcat Hawkins (msg #24):

"I'd like to hear the offer before deciding if I turn it down. So if we're not talking money, Ranger, what else you got to offer?"

Katrina Hawkins can't believe this guy and already doesn't like him a lot.  Besides, who wears a monocle?  The Seven gets her attention presently.

"Voodoo?  What is wrong wit' ya'll?  Fer th' love of Texas, do ya think if'n ah could do that, settin' aside fer a moment what yer accusin' me of, ya don't reckon if'n ah could do that, that we'd have a problem right now?  Yer nuttier 'n my granny's fruitcake.  Ya ought be grateful my ma's not here, she'd wear your hide plumb out hearin' ya say sech things ta me."

She shakes her head.  This can't be discussed honestly for what it is with this hanger on, and she isn't ridding herself of him any time soon.  She puts her attention back to William, realizing her short term goals here aren't worth sinking more precious time into.

"Look ya ain't been the nicest feller ah reckon, but ya got more horse-sense than this jackwagon.  Shake yer gentleman admirer here who thinks he makes deeshizuns for ya an' we'll jaw 'bout it some time."

William nods, then turns to his comrade-in-arms.

"Give us a minute, Spades. I'll need to get my horse anyway. Let's meet up here in a bit, allright?"

Assuming that Spades relents...

William walks a few paces away, apparently quite sure of his destination, then waits for the ranger to catch up.
Once she's close he fights down the impulse of grabbing and biting her, instead asking: "You were sayin'?"

Seven huffs. "Fine. I'll get the horses." and he staggers off. Apparently, he's still a little drunk, given the way he's walking.

Wildcat waits for him to leave.

"Good Lord fergive us all, th' very notion 'o raisin' the dead."  Wildcat shakes her head, and then gets serious.

"But it's happ'n'd ain't it fella.  If'n ya'll don't know by now, ah'm here ta tell ya it's happ'n'd ta you."

William shrugs.
"You have a point to make?"

"The Lord is not slack concerning his promise, as some men count slackness; but is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance."  Wildcat's cigar is winding down.  "That's from one o' th' Peters.  So's this 'un.

"Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake: whether it be to the king, as supreme; Or unto governors, as unto them that are sent by him for the punishment of evildoers, For so is the will of God, that with well doing ye may put to silence the ignorance of foolish men.

"It's like this.  Ya'll got a unique problem.  Yer gonn' be 'round, potentially a long time.  Ya'll need a friend that lives long as ya'll do.  All this 'round here, it's hell on earth 'n all, but this too shall pass.  Jus' not you.

"Ah done said it 'fore ya ain't no good man but ya ain't no dumbass neither.  Yer keepin' things quiet.  Now ya'll cain't go back to nowhere, they won't haves ya.  But if'n ya'll come wit' me after this mess is over, ah take ta some folks'll be mighty interested in yer services. 

"Legit folks, not shifty one eyed fancy pants.  More legit'n me!  Mebbe you's interested in doin' somethin' good fer once, even if not, why not do close to th' same dad blame thing 'n not get wanted fer it?  What's the point o' bein' a hunted by th' law if'n ya don't got to be?  Feller like you can do a whole lot o' good things folks want done without a lotta skin in th' game.

"An' e'en ya don't care 'bout no leg'imacy, they're the experts on... cond-i-shuns like yers.  Might be able ta help wit' it.  Ya'll got somethin' ya want?  If it ain't dumbass like wantin' to kill every'un in Tennessee, they might helps ya get it.  Now ah don't know if'n that oth'r feller is a dad blame snack to ya'll 'er somethin' diff'rent, but ah think ya got better options feller.

"Worse comes ta worse, ah don't reckon he understands ya'll all that much.  Ya seen what he done to that other feller when he thought he was back from the dead.  Now ah know yer just gonna kill 'em if'n he does, and ah don't feel much pity fer 'im, ya play stupid games ya win stupid prizes.  Point is, it's temp'rary.  Ya'll ought to think 'bout someone that ain't.

"But ah know.  And ah gots incentive ta gets ya to a good place if'n we gets this mess settled.  Not that ah am above askin' ya to take 'vantage of yer nature, not that there's any risk to someone like ya'll.

"Now ya ain't gotta decide right now, what yer doin' at th' moments no concern o' mine.  Nuttin' you did warrants nothin' 'yond what you worked out with th' Marshal back there.  But feller like you in a cond-i-shun like that, yer gonn' do somethin' sooner 'n later."

The Ranger looked back up, head tilted to look William in the face.

"An' we'll know."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:53, Mon 07 May 2012.

William keeps a straight face through the while speech, not once taking his eyes off from Ranger Hawkins. His gaze seems to be fixed to her face - which might be taken as polite. Most men usually threw at least passing glances to a region well south of Wildcat's eyes, but William was transfixed by the sight of those lovely veins in her neck.
If only that damned coward woudn't have shot him....
Maybe I should open his veins and teach him a lesson....He pushed the thought away. His very thinking seemed to change, too.
William's jaw ached and he used his left hand to stroke his beard, as if listening intently.

"So it's work for us or be our enemy?"
 He replies after Wildcat finishes her speech.

"That is quite an offer. Thing is, I hear a lot of maybes in there and only one sure thing: that you'll turn on me mighty quickly if I don't toe the line."

His eyes narrow. "There's something I need to do. Don't worry, it falls under the 'doing good' kinda thing. I'll be thinking about your offer, but I have a thief to catch first. Is your offer good for a while or are you saying take or leave it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:45, Wed 09 May 2012.

"Ya ain't done nothin' yet."  Wildcat admits, shrugging, although the gesture is weak with her narrow shoulders.  Dressing in layers doesn't hide that.  "An' ah ain't gonna blow smoke up yer ass an' tell ya it's a no brainer neither.  Ah reckon ya got time, ah got plenty o' irons in th' fire."

William nods.
"Out of curiosity - if I were to accept your... proposition. I mean, right now. What would you ask of me? What would you want me to do?"

"Well if'n ya'll were curious... th' Comanch'r gonna get a lot of folks kilt.  Lot of folks who ain't got nothin' ta do wit' me, or th' local hellraisers either really, or enny o' th' other mess 'round here.  Ah wish thar where't 'nother way 'n this, but sometimes they ain't.

"Ah don't reckon 'em Injuns could really hurt you for keeps, but somethin' makes me reckon ya'll could drill a few of 'em down to their sacred earth.  Hell of a thing ta ask, but worst thin' that could happen is ya tell me ta go ta hell, an' we's 'bout there already."

Pierce shrugs.
"If the Comanche are anything like the kind we got up North, you'll fight them off. Them indians fight stupid. They got a lot of sand, but no discipline. I notice you try to herd them together in a kill zone."

He nods toward the barricades further down the road.

"Smart. They'll kill a few of them folks, sure, but you'll drive them off, eventually. Then in a year or five a new chieftain will want to take revenge and it'll start over again. It's like Spring, Summer or Winter - just a season of killing."

He turns back to face Wildcat. "Right now I'm hurt bad from that shotgun of your man. I'm not one to hold a grudge, but shooting a man in the back is something of a pet peeve of mine."

Not that he wasn't guilty of that himself, figuratively if not literally, but still. It was a distinction that made a whole lotta difference to him.

"My point is, I might need some help, too, but not the fancy miraculous kind you're trying to sweet-talk me into. Say I help you fight off the indian horde... then you help me find the people I'm looking and... deal with them. Only, it will be under my jurisdiction, Ranger. My rules. My judgement."

Wildcat maintains her perpetual scowl.  "Ya seen this here feller?"

She puts her thumb behind the silver badge on her lapel.  "That means somethin', ta me at least.  Other problem is ah gotta talk ta a feller named Ward soon as ah can.  Ah thank ya'll's wantin' to go make mess right now."

"I can't risk that the... fiends I'm looking for disappear in all the confusion an attack by Comanche might bring."

Also, I want to hunt her down myself and not lose her to a band of savages... Or fight off these savages if she goes and turns them into something like me, too.

Hm. That was an interesting point. He still wasn't sure what he could tell that girl, but maybe she got a hint.

So he adds: "And trust me, you don't want the Comanche find them, either. Won't give them more discipline, but sure as hell will make it harder to fight them."

That statement genuinely intrigues Wildcat.  "Them fellers got somethin' the Comanch'd want?  What in tarnation could it be, a wagonload o' Kent'cky rifles?"

"No, the Comanche got something them fellas want. Thing is, they'll get something in return we don't want them to have."

How much could he risk to say? She knew about him being dead, but she seemed to think that he was the same kind of dead guy as the fella wanting to kill Spades.

Well, if she tried anything funny - he was pretty quick on the draw, aching shoulders or not.

"I'm talking about the Vanderholt troupe."

"Troops?"  Wildcat looks bewildered, but then she wants to slap herself.  No, the troupe, ya idjit.  "Oh ya'll done mean 'em theater folks, one of 'em sure was actin' queer... ah hell."

The images of killing the judge in the basement, Evans' investigation with his weird thing she can't name, understand or pronounce, and the sick girl in the room upstairs, not to mention the other circumstances surrounding it all, all came back to her.

Did he know?  Did it matter?  If she sounded crazy, it didn't matter, he was the walking dead already.

"Dern it, wit' all th' fuss 'round 'bout here, ah done fergot about them.  They's like you ain't they... con sarn it all.  All right feller here's what ya do, ah'm a terr'ble officer o' th' law here lately anyway so ah might as well tell ya, get ya somewhere ya can find some wood.  Sharpen'er up real good, don't have to be pretty, like 'is 'un."

Wildcat, whose duster is bulging with things at this point, pulls out a wooden stake made from the end of a table leg, sharpened to a point with a few passes of her Bowie knife.

"Make ya several.  Stab 'em wit' it, in th' heart if 'tall poss'ble.  Ah managed ta kill jus' a couple of 'em wit' it.  Shove 'em into th' sun if'n ya can.  Ah ain't tried holy water 'r garlic 'r sech yet.  Dern it."

She shakes her head.

"Ah can't go wit' ya, ah'd love to, but ah's s'posed to stay here.  Ah'm onna mishun from th' Lord 'n all.  Ya'll should go after 'em, that's best we gon' do right now.  Do what'v'r ya gotta do, ya get any of 'em 'r even find out where they done went, come back 'n tell me 'bout it n' that'll make us real good friends in a hurry."

William tips his hat.
"Wooden stakes, huh. I'll keep that in mind. I'll be going now, gotta find my horse. Ran off when the Oriental burned down."

It's about this time that Seven returns, a pair of horses in tow.

"You done with your chat? We wastin' time." He says to William. He looks at Wildcat. "Sorry to intrude, but we got some places to be."

He does, in fact, have Jumper with him...they must have found him wandering about and lead him to the stables.

"William, there was a Limey son of a bitch askin' around for you...didn't seem too friendly. Might be that Van Owen I've heard so much about. We might wanna get goin' before we get shot at again."

OOC: Vinnie Kaye was English, right?

Things are finally starting to improve.

He's with us he says, and takes Jumper's reigns. The horse reacts skittish, smelling William's unnutarual scent, but William manages to calm his horse down quite easily. He checks the saddlebags for their contents and pulls the rifle from the scabbard, checking that as well, then nods, satisfied.

08:24, Today: William Pierce rolled 15,1 using d8-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of (8+8+1)17,3. riding, to calm horse down.