This is the office and home of the newly appointed U.S. Deputy Marshal, Cyrus Jericho...
This message was last updated by the GM at 02:03, Fri 26 July 2013.

Place Holder Post for Setting the Scene (Office Description)

U.S. Marshal's Office in Escondido for the Western District of Texas



This message was last edited by the player at 07:12, Wed 24 July 2013.

Marshal Cyrus Jericho had gotten an early start for the day as he still had quite a bit of "fixin' up" to do before his office/home would be sufficiently presentable according to his high personal standards of cleanliness and orderliness.  He was currently putting up some book shelves near his desk upon which he intended to place his volumes on U.S. Law, Texas State Law, Military History, U.S. History, Army Strategies, Tactics, & Logistics, Indian (Apache) Culture & Customs, as well as Phrase Books for both the Spanish & Apache Languages.  He had already put up along one of the walls in his office a nice sized detailed map of the Western District of Texas as well as a map of the Trans-Pecos region with a focus on El Paso County.  There were a variety of colored pins in the Trans-Pecos region map making of a color-coded view of the surrounding area's "Hot Spots", Red for Indian activity, Brown for Mexican activity, Green for Comanchero activity, Blue for US Army activity, Black for Outlaw activity, and Yellow for Fugitive activity.

As Cyrus finished checking that the shelves were firmly placed and sturdy enough to bear the weight of the tomes he planned to place ther, Cyrus checked his pocket watch (a gift from his father upon graduating West Point) and noted that it would soon be time for the stage coach to come rolling into town (assuming it was on schedule).  That meant it was just about time for Cyrus to make his periodic morning visit to Dr. McQueen's office to check in on his young patient, Miss O'Dell.  Cyrus felt a certain responsibility for Rebecca, not just because he had been the one leading the cavalry troop who came upon her ambushed caravan or that he personally had been the one to find Rebecca still clinging to life among the bodies of her parents, but because he actually knew the O'Dell family from back home in Kansas.  Good ol' former First Sergeant Patrick 'Paddy' O'Dell had initially served Cyrus's father Major (later Lt. Colonel) Solomon Jericho loyally and bravely in the 4th U.S. Cavalry Regiment before the Civil War.  After Cyrus was assigned to E Company of the 4th U.S. Cavalry upon graduation from West Point, Lt. Col. Solomon Jericho saw to it that his trust First Sgt. O'Dell found his way into E Company as well.  Later, after they both had recovered from injuries sustained during the Battle of Fredericksburg and Cyrus was re-assigned to the 7th Kansas Cavalry Regiment, Cyrus made sure to request that First Sgt. O'Dell accompany him to the 7th Kansas Cavalry.

Of course that had been several years ago and after the Civil War ended, with Paddy going back to his farming in Kansas and Cyrus being transferred to the 10th U.S. Cavalry Regiment fighting in the Indian Wars out West, Cyrus had lost touch with the O'Dell family except for the occasional letter or Christmas card.  Cyrus had not even heard that the O'Dells were leaving Kansas and he certainly never expected to come across the tragic remains of the family on the outskirts of Escondido, Texas following what appeared to be a vicious ambush launched by one of the local Indian war bands still active in the area.  Cyrus had not recognized Rebecca right away as she had grown up so much from the last time he saw her, though he did recognize the face of his former First Sergeant (despite the distorted features due to the scalping and expression of agony frozen in place by rigor mortis).  What had given Rebecca's identity away was her silver locket worn around her neck (and miraculously not stolen from her by the thieving bushwhackers), which Cyrus remembered Rebecca had always worn (the one item that offset her typical youthful tomboyish appearance).

In fact the incident had played a not insignificant role in deciding Cyrus upon the plan he had been contemplating for awhile, ever since Lone Wolf led his surviving Kiowas to the Fort Sill reservation in February of 1875 (signaling the end of the Red River War) and the orders came in for Colonel Ranald Mackenzie to assume command of Fort Sill in the Oklahoma Territory by the end of March 1875, namely that it was time to retire from the Army and strike out on his own along a new career path as a U.S. Marshal.

Putting the last of his books up on the shelf, Cyrus checked his watch again and decided he might have enough time to pay a visit to Dr. McQueen and his patient Miss O'Dell before the stage coach was expected to arrive (barring any delays).  With a quick brush of his freshly minted Deputy Marshal badge to give it a little extra shine, Cyrus grabbed his hat and exited his office headed for the doctor's office down the street.

OOC: ---> from Streets thread

Around the back of the US Marshal's Officer was a small stable that could house a handful of horses (originally meant for an office of 3-4 Deputy Marshals each with about 2-3 fresh mounts, now the stable and the office felt almost "empty" by comparison).

As they approached, Cyrus and Rebecca could hear a healthy whinnying rising from the stables and Cyrus knew that it wasn't Black Jack.  Turning towards Rebecca, Cyrus said in a friendly tone, "Hear that Miss Rebecca?  That's definitely not Black Jack... sounds like your Midnight just caught a whiff of your scent on the wafting early morning breeze.

He sounds happy to see you.  Let's go pay him a proper visit."

Cyrus opened the outer door to the stable section with his free hand while making sure Rebecca was well supported on his other arm.  He then escorted Rebecca inside and walked down to where Midnight stall was located.

---From the Streets...

Rebecca let go of the Marshal's arm to run to Midnight, stumbling and falling to catch herself with her good arm against the corral.  The horse whinnied happily, nuzzling her face as she petted his nose.

"Oh, M' bonny lad!  I'm so happy!  Oh, ye're happy too, ye wonderful laddie!"  Her full family's Irish brogue came as she happily petted the horse, who was clearly as happy to see her.

"See, and wonderful Marsha' Cyrus kept ye fat and sassy, I'm seein'!  I promise, I'll be well soon and ride ye and race ye and we'll be together again.  I promise"  Tears were streaming down her eyes as she promised the huge stallion she would ride again...

Cyrus stood back and gave the girl her space to just be happy with her beloved horse.  The display brought a smile to his face and damn near threatened to bring a tear to his eye, except he'd done his share of crying over tragedy as a young man and the experience had left him "dry" to the point that he sometimes wondered if he still possessed any tears left for shedding.  But if he had tears left, he was damn well going to save 'em for sadness and not waste 'em on joy.

While keeping his distance and observing the pair, Cyrus said in a pleased tone, "Well now... seems I've done something right since coming to this town.  I take it then Miss Rebecca that you have no complaints with how your Midnight has been cared for in your absence?"

She rubbed her cheek against the soft nose of her stallion, her eyes closed.  One might wonder how such a little petite girl could ride such a great stallion, but their tenderness to one another showed that they were a team, a pair.

"Oh, I never thought... he's so beautiful!  Ye done right, Marshal Cyrus!  A right good job!  He's so sleek, ye've kept him as he should.  Oh, I canna wait to ride!  Soon, my bonny lad, soon!"

She turned, her face alight with joy and happiness to look at Cyrus.

Cyrus allowed himself a pleased smile as he said, "Just to see that pretty smile of yours and the bright light of joy shining in your eyes Miss Rebecca... well, it was certainly all worth it.

Besides, Midnight is a mighty fine animal and very well behaved despite the shock he must have had following... all the... unpleasantness.

Now then Miss Rebecca, having paid your respects to Midnight and no doubt raising his spirits as much as he seems to have raised yours, what would you like to do next or where would you like to go next?

If you want, we can pop into the office and you can take a look at the odds & ends of baggage we managed to recover from the... site.  Perhaps you could identify what belong to whom and reclaim any personal items that would belong to you?

Or we could put that off until another day when you're feeling more up to it."

Rebecca turned once more to kiss her horse on the nose, then turned back, leaning against the corral, looking quite fetching and biting her lip.

"I... I think I can look now.  I'm thinkin' its best I get it done.  I can't bring them back, can I?  And Papa would want me to go on just as he would in my place."

Cyrus nodded his head as he offered his arm to Rebecca and said, "Alright then, that's what we'll do.  Come along Miss Rebecca, you still seem a little weak on your feet... probably a touch of overexcitement at seeing Midnight no doubt, but the boost to your spirits was well worth the physical tax.

All the same, I don't want Doc McQueen scolding me when I bring you back, so do please lean on me as it were and take as much strain off yourself as possible."

So saying, once Rebecca had accepted his arm, Cyrus moved to exit the stable (making sure to close it properly behind him) and then headed back to the front of the Marshal Office.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:36, Fri 20 Sept 2013.

She rolled her eyes, in the manner of teenagers.  "I have been laying in bed for weeks, Cyrus!  Ye canna be expecting me to dance a waltz just yet.  Unless ye were offering?"

It was a weak flirt as she took his arm and let him lead her into his office.

Cyrus smiled as he said, "I'm pretty sure "waltzing" is not what the good doctor was prescribing for you Miss Rebecca... at least not yet in any case.

Besides, I prefer to do my dancin' ta actual music, don't you?

In any case, we best be headin' inside so you can take a look through the recovered items.

Remember, easy does it Miss Rebecca."

So saying, Cyrus carefully aided Rebecca into the main office area of the Marshal's Office and helped her to a seat.  He then brought over a chest, placing it before her chair as he openned the chest up to reveal a variety of "odds & ends" that had been recovered from the ambush site.

Gesturing to the contents, Cyrus said, "If you can help sort through this and indicate what might have belonged to whom and such... well... I may then be able to ship the sorted items off to the respective next-of-kin.

It may be poor comfort compared to bringing the guilty brigands to justice but even a keepsake or memento of a lost loved one can often be cherished as a reminder of the departed.  It would be the least I could do for the surviving kin... at least for now."

OOC: I'll leave it to you Rebecca to decide what items might actually have been recovered at the ambush site (and to whom they might have belonged).

Rebecca carefully sat, then bit her lip before reaching in the chest to see what was there...

The first thing was a short-barrel carbine... her own gun.  She stroked it as if it were made of precious metal, then sat it aside.  She pulled out several garments, then pulled one to her chest.

"Oh... oh Mama..." she exclaimed, holding a bonnet to her bosom.  "I'm sorry for ye.  I couldn't help ye..."

She cried a moment, then sorted more things.  Some she sat in her lap, some to one side.  When she was done, she had a small pile in her lap... a ring, the bonnet, a glove, a pair of pants, a stained dress.  Beside here were similar items.

"I... I don't truly know who's belongs to whom.  Th' pipe was our teamster leader, Milus McKay.  I saw it enough on him.  Th' pistol was Mr. Hutchinson's, I'm thinkin'.  The rest, I'm not bein' sure of.  But I have my dress.  My brother's trousers.  And Daddy's ring.  Oh, poor Daddy!"

She buried her face in her hands, crying.

Cyrus moved over to Rebecca and lightly placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he offered her his clean handkerchief (a gentleman never knew when he might need one for just such an occasion).  In a comforting tone (or a tone he hoped would convey comforting), Cyrus said, "Easy now Miss Rebecca, I know the wounds are still fresh... the ones on the inside often hurt more and often don't heal nearly as quickly as the wounds on the outside.

Don't worry about identifying everything, just do the best you can... that's all I, or anyone else, will ask of you Miss Rebecca.

I don't want you stressing yourself over all this, perhaps I rushed things by suggesting you look over these items.  For me it has been nearly a month past but I keep forgetting that you've essentially just awoken and thus have not really had any time to deal with the painful realities of the incident.

Why don't we just stop for now?  You just set aside what belong to you and your family and I'll see that its all delivered over to Doc's home at a later time... alright?"

She very carefully set aside everything but the ring, the bonnet and her carbine.  She put the ring on her thumb, then placed the bonnet on her head, tying it.  She then gripped the carbine, staring at it, gripping it until her knuckles were white.

"I saw them coming... I... I fired at the lead horseman, missing him.  He looked at me, a look of hate, even from so far away.  So I shot again, clipping him on the cheek, seeing the blood so dark against his white skin..."

She blinked.  "Oh dearest God, his skin was white!  He was a white man!"

Cyrus gently but firmly attempted to move Rebecca's hands away from the carbine she was clutching so tightly as he said, "Come now Miss Rebecca, you're in no proper state of mind to be holding a firearm.  We wouldn't want you accidentally discharging that carbine of yours.  In fact we should probably check to make sure it is unloaded for the moment... I'm sorry I didn't think to check that earlier.

Please just let go of the carbine Miss Rebecca... for now at least."

Cyrus nodded his head as Rebecca revealed the first truly useful piece of information about the attack, "Well now... "white skin"... that is certainly a revelation Miss Rebecca and an important one at that.

Bandits may be groups of mixed races but a true Indian war party would not include white men, not unless they had been captured as babes and raised by the tribe.  But I don't think there are many of that sort still around, most were either killed or handed over to us at the end of the recent hostilities.

Do you happen to remember if any of the other attackers were white as well?"

The young woman closed her eyes, thinking.  "I... I'm not sure.  I didn't remember this until I saw... saw these things.  I'll be tellin' ye, they looked like Indians, sounded like Indians.  Papa thought they were Indians.  But they all had guns.  And they shot good.  Then the wagon fell and that's... that's all I knew...  I... I swear."

She pulled the bonnet from her head and started to cry.

Cyrus had been trained to handle many different types of situations both as West Point cadet and later as a junior cavalry officer... but the one thing none of his professors or superiors had ever attempted to teach him was how to handle a young lady crying.  Cyrus could judge horseflesh for riding, could read maps, gauge topography, assess tactics, know how best to shoot a firearm or thrust a saber... but he felt practically "undone" when Rebecca began to sob in earnest.

He didn't know what the right way to comfort her was or whether it really was his place to even attempt to comfort her.  In fact it might be that having a "good cry" was "just what the doctor ordered" for all Cyrus knew.

With a small sigh of resignation, Cyrus said in as reassuring a tone as he could manage, "Well that is a lot more information than I had before Miss Rebecca... and it strongly implies that the initial assessment of a possible "Indian Attack" may have been wrong, that it had only been meant to appear that way so that the Indians would get the blame for yet another "cold blooded ambush".

Please try not to dwell too much upon the attack Miss Rebecca, there's no need to stress yourself out unduly.  I apologize... I should not have pressed for additional details.  I am sorry Miss Rebecca, it is the "bulldog" in me... when I get my teeth into something I often don't know when to let go, even for my own good."

She looked up, her eyes watering, tears on her cheeks, the bonnet in her hand.  "I would not think ye a lawman if ye didn't have that.  I'm just thinkin' I'm a frail lass, and I hate t' cry before ye."

She used the bonnet to wipe her eyes.  "Ye might be right, thinkin' this.  They was so quick and they had good guns, I'm thinkin'."

She sighed, looking down.  "You saved my life.  How can I repay that?"

Cyrus saw Rebecca moving her bonnet up to catch her tears and he lightly held the bonnet away as he offered Rebecca a handkerchief and said in a soft tone, "Now, now Miss Rebecca, you don't want to irritate those delicate eyes of yours.  Please use this handkerchief to wipe those tears.  And don't be so hard on yourself Miss Rebecca.  It would be unnatural bordering on inhuman if you did not have a good, heartfelt cry over your loss.  There's nothing frail about mourning the loss of loved ones, lass or not.

And because of that, I should have been more delicate and circumspect in my questioning.  But I've not been a lawman for very long and the Army doesn't really teach one about how best to deal with grief or grief stricken victims of crime... not even us "officers & gentlemen"."

Cyrus smiled at Rebecca as he added, "And as for talk of "repayment"... I'll hear none of that.  Whether lawman or army officer, it was, is, and will be my honorable duty to save innocent lives.  There's no need for repayment.

As for saving your life, I just thank the Lord Almighty that my Troop and I were in the right place at the right time to do some good, though I only wish we could have done more..."  Cyrus paused for a moment to sigh slightly, "...which I guess may be part of the reason I put down the sword and took up the badge.  With the recent successful campaigns against the Injuns in this area, there seems to be more need for enforcers of law & order than for fighters making war if one wants to make a difference and make things better for good people such as yourself Miss Rebecca."

She looked up in relief.  "A girl could not be more grateful that ye gave up the sword for th' badge, Cyrus," she stated, using his given name shyly.  "For then I'd not be here, a lass hurt but alive.  My Daddy woulda said you're a man above men and I'm grateful."

She gathered her things.  "I am most serious of payment.  An Irish girl doesn't give an oath so lightly.  I owe ye m' life and I'll not forget.  I'm not sure how I'm t' repay it, but my coin is good.  I promise."  Her eyes shined brightly, despite the red and her tears, showing she had the spunk to promise.