"Why, that sounds absolutely dreadful.  How can one man be responsible for such a thing?"

"Oh he is not responsible.  If anything, he may be able to help us stop it.  And no, I do not know how exactly."

Janet makes a small shudder.  "Well, then, I wish you the best of luck.  Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nothing that I can think of at the moment, but I appreciate your willingness to help."

Telling Zach to meet him at the boarding house, Boudreaux headed over to meet the others.

Zac made his way back to his Aunt's place with Jack. He was tired, but his mind was filled with images and phrases that rattled around. He got ready for bed, then took out the typewriter. Inserting a piece of paper into the machine, he took out his notebook to review what he had learned. He took a breath and stared at the blank page, it loomed at him as terrifying as any trick Mr. Whateley could conjure. "Well, there's only one way to fix that,"he said to himself mimicking what his dad used to say before he started writing.

He started typing. Slowly at first, the words coming one at a time.  Then the clicking became more rhythmic and they started coming in bursts. He lost track of the time, and realized he had stayed up far too late. He stretched and yawned, only realizing how tired he was when his fingers stopped their dance.

Morning came far too soon for the teenager at the wrong end of Jack's wake up. Realizing he had woken up later than he wanted, he cleaned himself up and dressed quickly. Glad he had missed the girls, he made his way to the boarding house to start their search.

The boarding house is just as creepy in the morning as it was in the afternoon. Mrs. Fairchild invites the two in to breakfast, and they take their seat with The Professor and Janet Weiss. Then she leaves to fetch their meals and allow them to discuss where they plan to go for the day.

((OOC: Just give me an idea of what leads you folks are planning to pursue, and I'll work up events to go with those searches.))

Janet turns to Zac.  "I may need some help.  I need to talk to a reporter, get some information from him.  If you would be so kind as to help me with my inquiries, I'm certain I can help you with yours."

((OOC: We're back! Waiting on Zach, The Professor, and Black Jack to give me their plans for the day))

ooc- As noted above The Professor is headed to the Langrishe Theater to find Charlie Bull.

The young man, who'd just joined them for breakfast, nods. "Sure, I think I can help with that." He seemed quite eager to follow the pretty lady. "Jack, where are you headed? Are you going with The Professor, or were you planning to look for that McCall fella?"

some mood music

With destinations and plans discussed, the group broke to leave the boarding house and pursue their individual objectives, with plans to meet back at the boarding house at supper to discuss what they've learned.

The quartet travel back to Main Street, already beginning to fill as the miners who lived in town began heading out to their claims. Hawkers in tents lining the road wave items at passers-by, trying to tempt people to buy shots of whiskey, pots & pans, ax handles, wheels, live chickens, bales of hay. New construction is going up at a breakneck pace, even with the chill of the day, and men with saws cut planks for buildings with "Coming Soon!" banners and other men on scaffolds hammer the boards in.

Everywhere, blue-clad soldiers march about, stand about, or laze about. The Grand Central hotel swarms with soldiers, bustling like ants from the mound. And like ants, the soldiers have scattered, drops of dark blue in the sea of brown tones.

There's hardly space to walk, and when it's time for the team to split, each companion's sight of the others is quickly swallowed by the press of the crowd.

---

@The Professor

The Professor stands before the Langrishe Theater, which doesn't seem open this time of day. There's a ticket-taker in a booth looking out at the street boredly, and a schedule of the shows on the wall. He shuffles up a deck of cards and deals himself a string of solitaire as The Professor approaches.

---

@Black Jack
The infamous Jack McCall was somewhere out here in Deadwood. From what Calamity Jane had told him, there were a couple of places that he might be spotted...the Gem Theater and Saloon, just a block south of the Railroad, and the Cathouse, an opium den and whorehouse north of the track in the place known as Celestial Alley.

---

@Janet Weiss

Janet and Zach reach the offices of the Black Hills Pioneer, the town's only paper. Unfortunately, it looks a bit...dark, and there's no machinery running inside from the sounds of things. The door is locked, though there's smoke coming from the chimney, so someone must be inside somewhere. There's a stairwell leading up to the second floor, probably an apartment for the newspaperman if they wanted to explore.

"Well, Zach, let's see who's home."  Janet knocked briskly at the door.

Zach nods and follows Janet up the stairs to the apartment over the presses.

"W-what?" Someone mumbles from the other side. "Is someone...no! No, I'm sorry, the Black Hills Pioneer is on hiatus until further notice! You'll have to come back later!"

"Merrick, you scalawag!  Your apprentice is here, all the way from New Orleans!  Don't you dare leave him standing in the cold!"

Zach blinks. He and whoever it is inside say the same thing:

"Apprentice?"

Zach blinks again. "I'm not from New Orleans." The kid says.

"I don't remember offering any positions for any apprentices...especially any from the South." The man behind the door says, though there's a quaver in his voice that indicates he's not so sure about that...

In reply to Albert W. Merrick (msg # 25):

"That's not my problem! Are you going to leave this lad standing in the cold, or are you going to take him in and show him around, to start his apprenticeship off right?"

The Professor smiled at the ticket taker. "Good day sir. I hope you can assist me. I am looking for a Mr. Charlie Bull.  I understand that he frequents this establishment.  Perhaps he works here?"

He waited patiently for a reply from the laconic seller.

In reply to The Professor (msg # 27):

The man looks up from his solitaire. "Charlie Bull? Ain't no one by that name who works here..." A thought occurs to him and he snaps his fingers. "Oh, yeah, the Indian. We're supposed to bite all the nickles now because of him passing wooden coins to us. Mr. Langrishe was quite upset with that, you know. Wanted to ban him from the establishment. I think he left town...pissed of the DMA or something. He's usually here when we put on Shakespeare...you can check the schedule to see when we're doing that next. I think we're doing King Lear on Wednesday."

He checks his records. "Yeah, we're doing King Lear Wednesday. There's a variety show on Friday and Saturday...usually some Shakespeare bits mixed in with the bawdy stuff. Oh hey, we got the Professor tonight!"

"Well, I'll take a ticket for Wednesday's King Lear then."

At the mention of the Professor, The Professor cocks an eyebrow at the ticket taker. "Pardon me?  Who did you say would be here this evening?"

"That'll be 5 cents." The ticket taker says. "That would be Professor Hyram Burns, sir. He's one of those Mad Scientists you hear about, got a scheme to douse the fires in Satan's Garden or somesuch. He and his daughter rent out the theater every month to put on demonstrations to convince miners to invest in his invention. Lately, he's been adding feats of magic to drive up attendance...sawing his daughter in half, levitation, escaping from chains...that kind of thing. That's his handbill right there." The man points to a poster behind the Professor.

The poster in question depicts the face of a dapper man with an intense, penetrating stare. The caption reads:


The man in the poster is Reginald Smythe!

The ticket master leans forward. "Want to buy another ticket?"

In reply to Janet Weiss (msg # 26):

The man sighs, and heavy footsteps thud to the door. It opens, revealing a large, somewhat disheveled man squints at the pair. "Well, far be it for me to not extend hospitality to those who've come so far. Please, step inside."

"Uh, thank ya, sur." Zach says, in what has to be the worst Deep South accent Janet had ever heard. "Ah'm Zachery O'Connor."

"And I'm A.W. Merrick, Owner, Editor, and Head Reporter for the Black Hills Pioneer. Please, step inside so we can sort this all out."

((OOC: I'd have you make a Persuasion check, but given your Charisma, I think we can call it a success and move on...))

The Professor visibly blanched at the sight of Reginald Smythe. He blinked in astonishment, utterly speechless for a few seconds. His reverie broke and he fished out a handful of change from his pocket and dropped it on the pile of cards in front of the ticket taker.

"I'll take six tickets, please. A private box. Near the front of the stage." He tapped his foot impatiently. "That would be for the show this evening.  I'll also take one ticket for the Wednesday King Lear."

He needed to get back to the Boarding House and see if Black Jack and Zachary were still around. Smythe was up to something nefarious, and The Professor was going to have to enlist the aid of one or more companions to stop him.

"Huh." The ticket taker says. "Well. I guess you're a fan of the sciences then. Alright. Six box seats for tonight, and one seat for King Lear. That comes to 35 cents." he counts out the coins, biting each coin to make sure it's legitimate. He fills out the ticket stubs and passes them and the Professor's change back. "Here you are. See you tonight."

The Professor scooped up the ticket stubs and the loose change, knocking a few playing cards to the ground in the process and all but ignoring the ticket taker. He hurried back to the boarding house, hoping to catch one or more of his new found friends before they headed out for the day.