Katy had taken it on herself to do a little bit of scouting for the small group as they headed toward their destination. The conversation about law an how to discharge it interested her greatly, unfortunate that she wasn't able to put her two cents in while the argument raged.

She did hear something about Whateleys as she trotted her horse back to the others, and nodded her agreement with Jackie. "Bein' a Whateley don't automatically make a person bad. Just seems ta give 'em higher odds. Like that bitch that shot me in the back. O'course that Whateley what shot me was called upon by Nicodemus ta kill this fella." She indicated Zek. "As fer Roger Sebastian, I ain't got nuthin' on him. Yet."

She looked over at Zek who seemed to have a lot of Whateley knowledge. "Don't s'pose ya know anything about Elmira Whateley? She's someone I'd like ta chat with. Eventually."

OOC: I assume a trip to the outskirts and then heading to this Prospecter would mean it's reasonable for Katy to be mounted. Let me know if otherwise.

"This do be why we are here. No that we have any idea where she be. An' I dinnae think we have a name." He looked over to Moses. "Any spiritual guidance ya can get fer findin' oracles? If no, then we may need ta try findin' folk that'll talk."

Art reached down and pet Kira, running his left hand across her fur as his right held the shillelagh.

Maddox swivels around on his stool, not one-shotting his drink just yet. "Oh? What's that then, and do you not want Wells in on it?" He looks at his glass. "Or unlucky, sure enough - he's got some kind of old-fashioned armour on under his shirt, by the way."

Daisy palms the drink without comment, but leans back and hooks two fingers in Matt's belt loop as he steps away. "Hey, look me up if you git lonely sometime, y'hear?"

Matt nodded.

"Wells is a whole 'nother can of worms. She's run off to the Prospector, so I'll have to talk to her later. There's only one other Indian feller in town. I figure he might know Charley Bull and where he's at, but of course that's just a hunch."

When Daisy grabbed him, he smiled and gave her hip a squeeze. "I'll be sure to. Keep your nose clean, yeah? Put that silver to good use."

He turned back to Maddox.

"I'll be sure to aim for his noggin, then."

Haverford raises an eyebrow. "No one allowed these files to get in the wind, Major, and I will thank you not to besmirch the memory of the people who have died because these fell into the wrong hands. I notice that you still did not answer my question. Am I to to take your arrogance as proof that you should not be further involved in this matter?"

In reply to Catherine Hays Cox (msg # 116):

"To be fair to her, she only shot ya after you said you were a Ranger." Jackie says. "She did say a Ranger put that hole in her face. That's liable to make any ghost sort o' ornery."

Zek leads the group back to the Woolly Buffalo. Inside the saloon, Nat Love serves a large black man in confederate grays and a fella all wrapped in bandages. Nat grins at Zeke. "Well, well! Good to see ya again! What'll ya have?"

The big black guy turns and looks at the group...and grins. "Well, I'll be damned if it ain't Katy Cox! How you doin'?"

Maddox raises an eyebrow. "It's possible, I suppose..." he looks at his drink again. "I'm not sure I'm drunk enough for Wrong Horse's pemmican-inna-bun, see you." He downs said drink. "Yet. All right. I suppose we can make it back here if Wells is taking her time over it all."

He sets the glass neatly on the bar and stands to go with Matt.

Daisy gives one of those lithe little movements that shifts his touch up her side as he lets go. "Ah have been well-cautioned as I ever was, and surely will," she says, favouring him with a grin.

Maddox looks a little dubious at her as they move on, but makes no comment.

Katy smiled slightly at Jackie's response. "So...by Jackie's logic...it's okay ta shoot anyone that's named Whatley, Zek. Carry on as ya were."

---

Katy wasn't certain what to expect at the Woolly Buffalo, but it sure wasn't this. She did a double-take when she saw the man's features. The voice and the appearance both fit. "You'll be damned? I'll be damned. That really you, Kingsnake? Weird sorta rumor going around that ya got lynched. If ya gotta few moments, wouldn't mind hearin' what ya've been upta. And what the hell happened back in Kansas." In less than a day, she'd caught up with Carter, Logan, Wells, Wilder, and now the Kingsnake. Apparently Texians loved them some Deadwood. Who would be the next to show up?

Leopold raises his eyebrows. "Arrogance? My dear Haverford, I am only teasing you. Do you really believe my intent was to 'steal' the United States secrets? I did tell the men to go fetch you as soon as we were up here and I opened the package in front of you."

He drops what remains of the cigarette butt into an ashtray, then breaks the silence. "I do apologize for my distasteful manners, though. You have lost friends and comrades and I did not mean to offend you." He looks straight into the younger man's eyes and there is no sense of irony or sarcasm in his demeanor.

He continues: "You will remember that you asked for the support from the Empire, which I happily provided. At much risk to my personal safety, I might add. I was promised that the United States would recognize the support of His Majesty's representatives with some sort of... quid pro quo. I am not pressing the matter, but I do hope that I am not the only one remembering it."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:31, Tue 07 Feb 2017.

Mose pursed his lips and looked up into the sky for a moment, then he chuckles.
"You are right as always, Lord. Your most humble servant was not thinking."
He turns to Art.
"The Woman Who Remembers The Future will be where all people are who are drifting, wandering, be it through the land,... or through time."
He points to a nearby building. "A place to rest and have something to eat. Something to drink."

Art pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth for a moment. You didn't need divine inspiration to know that going to a saloon would be a good place to chat. He literally bit his tongue behind closed lips to keep from saying something flippant.

"Yah, that do sound, er, wise. But I do no think it be wise to bring, er, yer whole flock? With us. That be invitin trouble o'the kind we don't be needin."

Belle crooked her neck at Dandy Don.  That was a sign.  Not a Men in Black Dusters kind of sign, but a sign between two people who had known each other a very long time, even if they had been separated for a few years in between visits.

And then she heard about the worms and all that went out the window.  Belle despite herself was becoming the easily distracted type.

"A thousand pardons sirs, if I may interrupt your discourse with your kind permission?  Thank you."   There was no pause for consent to be obtained either from Maddox or the Marshal.  "I heard you discussing the unfortunate matter of... worms?  Yes?  I had the grievous misfortune earlier today of discussing that nasty phenomenon with a chillingly insane individual with a too rabid fixation on Poe.

"Belle Ivers, currently in the employ of Iron Dragon.  I was here for some supplies, as my employer has this remarkable idea I converse more easily in English than others and am a bit less likely to be overcharged.  I was trying to find one of our missing workers, who could have gotten mixed up in the whole business.  I don't suppose either of you know anything about missing rail workers?  It would do a lot of good if I could give their associates and possibly families some closure."

Jackie opens her mouth, then apparently thinks better of whatever she was about to say, and chuckles ruefully.

---

The big man pulls at the bandana around his neck. "Well, they certainly did try." He says as he reveals a rope burn around his neck. "Rum Tum Tugger still had friends up in Lawrence, the kind o' friends who still harbor a grudge over Quantrill's raid and don't take kindly to negros who wear the Gray. They seemed to think I owed Abraham Lincoln somethin'. Yankees. Go figure." He shrugs and waves to Nat for a drink, then hands it over. "Anyhow, I been travelin' with the fella who dug me out o' that mess. He goes by the name o' Coot. He's an odd duck -- roams around the West." he grins. "He's settin' up a Society for the Preservation and Advancement o' the Differently Alive. SPA-DA for shot."

The man in bandages next to him just groans. "Oh, Christ. Not that again."

Jackie, hearing this, just breaks out laughing.

"Sounds like an interesting club. We'd like to meet this Coot fella. Word is, he's got some kinda tonic that alleviates a particular sort of ailment, and we know a fella that's got that certain type o' head cold," he said. "You know, gotta make sure it don't come back and all."

Katy shook her head at the revelation of Kingsnake's, er, mortal death? She'd had some bad run-ins with dedders before, but some of them weren't so bad. She briefly looked over at Logan to gauge his reaction, though her gaze swept back over to the Kingsnake. When Logan mentioned the headcold, her measure of his knowledge went up a peg. "Damn Yankees." The Ranger accepted the drink with an appreciative nod, imbibing a bit of the liquid with a sigh, suddenly wondering why Logan hadn't bought her a drink yet. She looked over at him with a little smile and hoped he could read her mind.

Her gaze went back over to the bounty-hunter in gray. "The spuhda, huh?" Katy narrowed her eyes a little. "Sounds like a group I'd be interested in gettin' ta know, truth told." She paused a little and furrowed her brow. "Don't s'pose ya ever gave thought ta becomin' a musician? My band has got plentya room fer a fella with yer kinda reputation and wearin' those grays. Give ya a chance to continue doin' the sorta work ya liked 'fore yer run-in with Rum Tum Tugger."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Katy looked forward to meeting this Coot. Perhaps she could turn him into a re-Coot.

In reply to Art C. Wiley (msg # 127):

Speaking of trouble...

At right around that time, a hatchet-haired Indian dressed in Union Blues steps out of the saloon Moses was pointing at.

He looks at the assembled gaggle of people, staring in shock.

Little Crow looks likewise shocked. [Language unknown: "Ulelca!"] The Sioux growls.

"The nig-ga!" The Pawnee says at exactly the same time. he turns and runs back into the saloon.

---

As Maddox and matt ready themselves to leave, Sitting Duck comes barreling back through the bat-winged doors of the saloon. "Mad-docs! Mad-docs!" he shouts, pointing wildly back toward the street. "It him! The nig-ga! He here! He here!"

*growls in the general direction of Sitting Duck*

Matt shares a glance with the Welshman and walks past Sitting Duck out the door.

In reply to Catherine Hays Cox (msg # 131):

"I just bet you would." Kingsnake says, looking Logan up and down. He's smiling, but his hands ease down toward the fancy pistols at his waist. "Funny thing to have heard so quick. Might be that can be arranged, if'n you drop that there gunbelt first."

He leans against the bar, just nonchalantly enough to cover both Katy and Logan. "Reckon that goes for you too, Katy." He says, still cordially, though there's a hint of steel there now. "See, I'm in a new line o' work. And I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told the last Ranger who done asked if I wanted to join The Band. I dance to my own tune. Always have. The sort o' tunes your band plays might have me dancin' on my very own grave. I done that jig once -- not eager to be doin' it again anytime soon."

"Hey, now." Jackie says, moving to slowly unbuckle her own gunbelt. "Ain't no call for unpleasantness. Just here to talk."

From behind them all, Wild Bill looms. "The lady is right. Just here to talk. And as for them hearing things, well, it's cause Zeke here served me up some o' Coot's medicine."

"Is that..." Kingsnake begins, but trails off as he takes in the dead man. _{"Holy hell."}

"I'm sorry, I was off dealing with the Gem fire at the time. You look up Bullock about what happened there, or find Janet Weiss, see you: I think she was helping them choose victims," Maddox tells the lady with the worrying gun, then frowns at the reappearance of Sitting Duck and follows Matt out into the clearing rain.

He blinks at the small gang of assorted injuns and giants. "Excuse me, sir!" he calls to Moses, his right thumb hooked over his gunbelt where he stands. "I'd like to talk to you if you could come by yir a minute!"

"you watch the other aboriginals, I'll deal with Sitting Duck," the bounty hunter says more quietly to Broaddale.

In reply to Maddox (msg # 136):

Moses does indeed stop and turn toward Maddox.
He slowly shakes his head.
"You are not The Woman Who Remembers The Future. But do you know where to find her?"
He calls back, tapping his staff against his bare feet.

Belle maintained her ground and watched this exchange for a moment, a bit baffled by the spectacle of it all.  She wasn't sure who this odd staff carrying fellow was or why this bounty hunter was so interested in talking to him, but she was pretty sure it was all connected.  She wasn't about to miss this.

Janet Weiss... another name.  What madness is upon Deadwood? Her brain went into over drive in speculations.  Belle was one who tried to, often in vain, bring cognitive order to a chaotic universe.

"Wells? She said she'd come by yir after she'd gone and seen some prospector, see you...but I need to talk to you about your wife."

Katy gave the Kingsnake an understanding smile. She knocked back the rest of the drink he had gotten for her and then put the glass back on the bar with her left hand, though the left hand lingered there a moment, then went to lightly touch Cantrell's shoulder as her gaze went straight to his eyes. "I respect that, Jericho. But ya knew I had ta ask. It's parta the job description, ya know?"

She went to remove her gunbelt and wrap it up so that it could be easily handed to the bounty hunter. "This line a work I'm in'll put me in my grave early, Kingsnake. I know that, and I've known it fer years. Still do it, though, cuz it's helpin' folk out." She glanced over at Jackie, then back to the Kingsnake. "Helpin' a lot of folk. Mebbe every good soul."

She stepped back. "Take care a that gun an think bout whether a spuduh member like yerself might wanna help folk again. Don't gotta be as a musician if ya like yer own music. Could be right helpful fer yer soul, though."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:17, Wed 08 Feb 2017.