A Sin of No Name

[PoetLore]

Frank rubbed his neck when the owner of the Inn seemed to have misplaced all the keys to the rooms. Seven rooms. He glanced around at the small group and wondered if seven was enough. Maybe he'd be better off staying in his wagon...or possibly wouldn't have a choice.

He heard one of the others ask the old man where he'd last had the keys. Good question, but he didn't feel like the old man would have a good answer so he started looking around himself. Likely the old guy dropped them and didn't notice. So he began moving around scanning the floor for any sign on them. He felt a sense of urgency, because he was sure the jobs available were limited in number and he needed one of them. This was eating up valuable time.

Patience wasn't his forte and the longer he looked and kicked at dust balls on the floor, the more anxious and upset he got. He finally gave up and returned to the main lobby desk, "Any luck yet?' he asked them all hoping against hope that someone had found them or that the old man had suddenly remembered where they were.

 

[Kuno]

Eczar

THE SALOON​

---

PERRY THE DRUNK | NPC

The silence that pervaded the saloon was unnatural. The building stilled, the air stagnant with unreleased tension. It seemed impossible; Perry, whose breath still stank of alcohol, appeared abruptly sober as he stared at Henrietta, spine straightening as a critical gleam came to his eye. He scrutinized the woman first, then the mulatto man. He appeared pensive. Intelligent, even.

Until he didn't.

"Oh ho, no no no, boy," Perry chuckled suddenly, "Youse outta know. Ain't no clowns in Brigg's town. Just some good old fashioned devils. They'll be here 'round dark, Perry thinks. Yeah. The circus rolls on. Hoo boy, does it move."

A breeze finally wafted through the batwing doors, and the wood seemed to exhale. He poured Moses and Henrietta another drink, before taking another himself.

"Rolled right on through the mines too. Yessir, done went and cleared the sum'a bitches out. Oop-" He removed his hat hurriedly, winking at Henrietta. "Sorry."

Perry spread his hands across the oak countertop, his smile disappearing as he glanced out the windows. Something seemed to shift in his mood. An indiscernible emotion crossed his features; when he turned back to the two, he appeared saddened.

"Yeah, Perry's got a story, alright. A story 'bout a buncha fellows who didn't know when to quit while they were ahead...though there's no time to talk now. Sun's moving quick." He shook his head at Moses. "Girly here's got it all wrong. Ain't no show coming to town. It's already here. Listen-"

He wagged a finger in Henrietta's face. "Don't you go gallivanting 'round town, ya hear? You too," He added, switching focus to Moses. "Don't trust that cowboy, neither. Just cuz he's colored too don't mean he won't get ya wrapped up in trouble. Trust Perry. Perry never lies."

He paused.

"Well. 'Ceptin when it comes to money and stealin' and...hm."

@Applo @Mobley Eats

Eczar

THE INN​

---

OLD MAN WORTH | NPC

"Eh? Rooms? Keys?"

Sunken eyes stared out at the strangers in the Inn lobby. Old Man Worth regarded the added presence of Frank with a slow head tilt.

"Rooms?" He repeated dumbly. "Well, let's see. I think I have...mm, maybe six? Seven rooms? I just need my keys...my keys. Help me find them, friends. My eyes aren't...My eyes aren't as good as they used to be."

Behind the newcomers, the door to the lobby creaked open, and the old man cocked his head to the side, watching. A waifish hand reached through the gap to place a bottle of milk on the ground, and the door closed shut before anything else could be seen. Old Man Worth clucked his tongue at the interruption.

"That boy...always late with the milk," He muttered, coming around the counter to collect his goods. As he came around, the jangling of keys could be heard, and as he stooped to grab the milk, a large metal ring with keys could be seen dangling from his belt. He shuffled back towards the counter, oblivious to his bounty.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the old man, a young girl silently presented herself at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the rooms. Her eyes darted between the old man and the newcomers. When the man's back turned, she gestured furiously at Helene, David, and Frank to follow her before picking up her skirts and darting back up upstairs as quietly as she could.

@Youreverydaywildchild @The Wanderer

 

[Kuno]

Eczar

THE GENERAL GOODS STORE​

---

SAMUEL & TERESA MAY JAMES | NPC

The native woman remained very still apart from her wandering gaze. It was only when the other woman moved closer that she found herself walking several steps backwards in response, the broom clattering to the floor in her haste. Embarrassed, she picked it up and gave Na a small but forced smile. And yet the smile faded from her face as soon as it appeared. Before long, she was scurrying out to the backroom without sparing her a single word.

"You'll have to forgive my wife. She is not a very talkative woman," The Scotsman explained cheerily from behind the counter, busily cleaning away at the cash register. Pausing, he shouted, "Teresa, why don't you bring out some coffee for the lass?" Either he hadn't noticed his wife crying at all, or he did and just didn't care.

"Cornmeal and coffee ground's in the second row, I believe. Might have to look in the back for the lard, but rest assured, we'll see to it that your needs are sated."

In no time, Teresa returned with a pot of coffee and a bundle of yarrow tied together with string. She laid them out on the counter and positioned herself behind her husband, staring at the items like they were the most interesting things she had ever laid her eyes on. The man's eyes seized upon the yarrow, but he said nothing, instead looking up at Na with the same, constant smile.

"Where are my manners? My name's Samuel James, by the by, and of course my wife Teresa-" He gestured loosely to the woman behind him but did not break eye contact with Na. "So what brings you to Highland? Looking to stay for a spell?"

Barely audible, Teresa murmured something in Cree, frowning. Samuel's brow quirked in response.

@Doctor Jax

Eczar

THE STABLES​

---

??? | NPC

Under the sheriff's watchful eye, Highland, slowly and surely, began to stir with life.

Across the way, a young boy tumbled out of one of the houses, towing a small cart full of glass bottles behind him. He ran ahead of Jorge and Father Mac, seemingly oblivious to the presence of others on the street. Beyond the plateaus, the sun just barely touched the flat tops, moving at a deceivingly slow pace. Sheriff Cotting continued his watch.

Down the road, set to the side of the West Inn, the humble build of the stables stood out in stark relief. The fence surrounding the outer yard was rough and crude in design; it seemed more akin to a palisade than a standard animal enclosure. Within the confines of the fence, a massive ebony stallion paced across the grounds. There were scuff marks in the dirt from the horses' hooves; the animal was breathing heavily, sweat dripping down its neck.

A large man of African descent braced himself against the wooden planks. He watched intently as another man picked himself off the ground from within the confines. His hair clung to his face; wheezing, he made his way over to where the other man stood, brushing the dirt off his pants.

"You gon' break your neck."

"Yeah, yeah, Wicks. No need to keep saying it."

Wick's companion smiled handsomely. He was of Caucasion descent, though heat and exertion had colored his fair skin considerably. A set of brilliant blue eyes peered out at Wicks from behind the rough-made fence.

"Just tiring him out," He exhaled, turning back to look at the horse. "He'll get evened out eventually."

Wicks merely grunted in response.

@Red Thunder
@Hamlowe

 

[Red Thunder]

EL BANDITO GUAPO


@Kuno @Hamlowe​

Jorge rocked back and forth as Perra slumped toward their destination; he may as well have been on ocean, for all the rocking her was doing, and he gripped the mare with his knees more tightly. He glanced down at the priest, eyebrow raised. What was he doing here? What did he hope you gain by even approaching the stable, let alone with an angry mustang inside? He might give the beast last rights, if it came to that. Frowning, he clicked his tongue. Hopefully it didn't; that horse could be his ticket farther east.

Having paid like attention to the boy, save for a curious glance, Jorge's eyes lit as they approached the pen, and he took a drag on a newly rolled cigarette. This was familiar; the bastard Enrico had gotten a broken leg in such an area, after he got stepped on trying to remount a chestnut stallion. He was an idiot; Jorge had broken the horse immediately after, leaving Enrico the laughing stock of the banditos.

It looked as though these Highland men here at the stables would bear no mockery. But Jorge could hardly stop the remark from bursting from his lips. Nor, it must be said, did he want to.

"Si, gringo; he'll be all yours, if you ride him well enough. Just like a woman." Perra stood now perhaps ten feet from the fence. He sneered, leaning forward causally against his saddle horn. "Though maybe that's why I saw yours last night."

 

[Mobley Eats]

Moses
Interactions: Perry The Drunk @Kuno & Henrietta @Applo

Moses listened intently, watching the way Henrietta worked the air like a natural born charmer. Well, maybe the charm was a matter of nurture over nature? A mix of both? No matter how she came across it, the woman wore it like she invented the damn term all on her own and everything about that set off alarms in his head. Too good. Too practiced. Too easy to fall into her hands.

He wasn't really looking to do that anytime soon.

But still, he could afford to tip his toes in the pool, watch the ripples for a bit and see what they spelled out. As far as he was concerned, Henrietta intrigued him just as much as she concerned him. Throwing back a second shot and flashing teeth with a refreshed hiss, he quirked an eyebrow at the offer of informality, then allowed himself to return the grin with a lop-sided version of his own. "Well, pardon me if this seems mannerless, ma'am, but I'll assume tentative acquaintances still call ya Henrietta, so I'll dabble in that... I'm sure that'll change soon enough." He capped the comment with a wink.

Then, his attention switched back over Perry, interesting spiking as the drunk underwent a whirlwind of mood swings. Regardless, he hung onto the man's every word... and found himself at a loss. Devils at dark? Rolled through and cleared them out? Oh...

Hell. To the naw.

Moses wasn't liking a single tune this drunk was singing. Not in the slightest bit. Even if it could've been a wild story coming from slurred lips, a part of him couldn't help but coil up with anxiety. "Ain't no when to quit when they were... ahead of the sun or? What even are you going on about?" Moses asked, though he was certain to wring out any desperation from his voice and maintained a nonchalance about him. But habits died hard and whenever he caught of whiff of potential problems on the horizon, there was always that jolt of paranoia. First it started in his words. Then it would travel to--

He forced his leg to stop bouncing.

A show was here. Devils were rolling in and wiping people out at nightfall. A show. So who was pretending around here? Everybody? Perry included? Well, he must've been, because that shift in emotion was way too damn swift to be considered natural. So what role was he playing? Maybe Moses was supposed to stick to his own and... wait. Just wait.

Well shit.

He wasn't ever really a man of theatrics, but he was gonna change that today.

"Now see, that's where ya got me wrong, Perry," Moses chuckled and tossed back his third, final shot, "You don't gotta worry about me trusting the colored cowboy. Cuz I don't really trust nobody until they let me tailor them a mighty fine pair of shoes and coat." He glanced at Henrietta. "Or anything else to ya liking. I'm flexible."

 

[Hamlowe]

​

Despite the sun, Father McCarthy couldn't help but cock an eyebrow at the curious scene he now beheld, and what had evidently preceded it. The man dusting himself off, the black stallion raging like a Greek fury—like a demon, perhaps—the stolid Negro's simple remark, not meant for other ears but heard all the same. It all told a simple story, in which the priest saw a refraction of other stories from before and after his ordination.

Coughing in disapproval of his "companion's" ribald joke, he turned to the Negro. "Mister Wicks, was it?" He doffed his hat and bowed his head politely. "Father McCarthy. I believe I am here to keep him in line," he said, leading his head a little towards the ruffian, making a mental note to get his name sooner rather than later. "But I was also asked to meet one called...Angel. Something about a horse." He wanted to ask about the mare he'd ridden into town, but that could wait.

 

[Applo]

---

"You're a tailor?" Henrietta's eyes fixed themselves on Moses. All her interest in Perry was temporarily set aside as she looked at her drinking companion anew. Sure getting the right job was important, but a man who could make her dresses in something other than the dull uninspired styles of the West, well that was important too; besides the old drunk was rambling silly nonsense about devils. "I would ask what a man of such skill is doing out in a place like this but my mamma taught me never to look a handsome gift horse in the mouth. I'll just say that if you're even half good with a needle and thread then we are going to be seeing a lot more of each other sweetheart. You'll be calling me Hetty before you know it."

With a wink and an almost wolfish smile Henrietta turned back to the old man behind the bar. It was time to try the direct approach. The old coot clearly wasn't wholly right in the head; he seemed capable of holding both sides of a conversation at once for one thing. Too long spent down the mine was Henrietta's guess. The depths of the earth weren't a natural place for people to go. The darkness, the heat, the feeling of the earth pressing down on top of you; all of it would make any sane man crazy. It seemed similar to how cowpokes who spent too long in the sun went a little queer in the head. Normally it was best to talk real gentle like to them. If you wanted something from them though, you had to be direct. Not leave any room for the addled brain to get lost.

"Perry my dear, I have to ask; have you ever thought about hiring a serving girl to work round here? You know someone to fetch drinks, sing a song, do a dance. Looking around I must say I feel this place could use a little feminine charm." Placing a handful of coins on the bar, the red-head pushed both her's and Moses' empty glasses back towards Perry. "This round is on me by the way."​

---

 

[Doctor Jax]

Na Zhao
Chinese Herbalist and Fortune Teller
@Kuno

Na watched with some trepidation as the woman dropped her broom, only to pick it up just as quickly, a frantic motion born of the same shock. The Chinese woman drew back a bit, wondering perhaps the woman did not speak English at all. How lonely - to live in another person's world with no means to communicate, to show an inner life. The native woman hustled out into the back, and she was replaced by her husband, the Scotsman. She had a bit of difficulty understanding him - she had learned American English wholesale on her own, and other forms of it were foreign to her. Still, she managed.

"No, it is not trouble. I was once much like her - not very talkative. I speak English... enough," Na stated, brushing a strand of black out of her face, acutely aware she was alone in the room with this man. In such places, she expected the general goods store to be largely occupied with others, but here it was a ghost town - in fact, if not for the other newcomers, she would say the entirety of the place had a stagnation to it.

She found herself a small bag of cornmeal, brushing the dust off of it, the coffee seemingly missing. The longer she stayed, the more discomfited she felt. That was a key sense she had developed over the years, that intuition, and her nerves were beginning to wear the longer she stayed in the store. The wife came back, depositing a pot of coffee, a bundle of yarrow -- so she did understand. Her eyes softened as she looked up at the woman, who stared at the two objects with great intent.

At her husband's question, Na approached the counter with light steps, barely making sound. Delicately, she placed the bag on the counter, so as not to break it. Her gaze was demure, resting on the man's hands. A directed gaze bespoke familiarity she could not claim. A misdirected gaze informed disinterest. Passive, at the man, but not at his face - polite, attentive, without affording any misconstruction of her intent or affections.

"It is good to meet you, Mister and Missus James," Na stated, bowing her head slightly. "My name is Na Zhao. I do fortune-telling and Chinese healing arts. Yes, I plan to stay a little while, if the town shall keep me. There was a, erm.... an advertisement. I saw it on a poster, mayor giving out some land to people who come settle. I want just a little land, to grow my crop, grow my business."

Momentarily, she considered telling them where she had bedded down - and immediately nixed the idea entirely. An invitation of misfortune. Keep your heart hidden. It was hard to tell what people's intentions were here, regardless of their politeness. Any salesmen would offer respect to those with cash to spend, and only when something sufficiently offended their sensibilities - such as a Chinese woman living not two buildings away - did they eschew the respect for coin in favor of ejecting the offensive party.

"This town, it is..."

Lonely.

"...quiet. Many people live here?"

 

[The Wanderer]

David

As the elderly man made his way back to his chair, the keys rattling away on his belt. David wanted to sigh the biggest sigh and smack himself in the face to hopefully wake himself up. But was stopped when a child walked down the stairs, gestured to follow before storming back up as quietly as a mouse. Which was strange and impressive.

He would cast a look to the others in the lobby to see what they were gonna do, as personally he would just follow their lead. Though he wouldn't mind it if they just get the keys and pay for their rooms.

Because while the keys could be a viable method, what if the girl had something really important to say like "These people are crazy, get out of town as fast as possible."

But could just waste their time in general.

@Youreverydaywildchild @Kuno

 

[Kuno]

Eczar

THE GENERAL GOODS STORE​

---

SAMUEL & TERESA MAY JAMES | NPC

The store owner, to his credit, showed a polite attentiveness to Na as he rang up her items, nodding his head all the while as she spoke. Teresa stole a glance at the Chinese woman but did not allow her eyes to linger.

"I'll give you that. It is quiet," Samuel chuckled. "We've had a few families move on West after the mines closed. A couple fellows didn't have the gumption to make do with what's here, and it's a pity."

His right hand came to rest on the cash register. A careful look would note the contusion blooming across the skin, his knuckles cut and worried from some unknown, traumatic force.

"Now a young lady such as yourself moving here on your own is admirable. Good to hear you've your business and such, though I'd be careful with the fortune-telling," He went on cheerily. "Folks around here are a wee bit superstitious. Especially that mayor of yours-"

Teresa's head rose sharply.

"-and his lackeys. If I were you, I'd get settled at the Inn before curfew and pray you don't get into a tiff with one of them."

There was a dull thudding sound as, unseen by Na's eyes, Teresa's foot came to tap anxiously against her husband's boot. But Samuel was undeterred. He fished a small bag from the side and began placing his customer's items into it, his voice continuing on evenly all the while.

"Will that be all for you, Miss Zhao?" His smile was strained. "If you have any more questions, I'd be more than happy to answer them."

@Doctor Jax

Eczar

THE STABLES​

---

WICKS & ANGEL | NPC

The long look that passed between Wicks and his friend spoke of a weathered, congenial companionship. Whatever unspoken words passed between them changed the two's countenances at once: Wicks' features hardened into a scowl, and the white man burst into laughter.

"Yeah, that's me. Nice friend you got there, Father," He finally said, grinning from ear to ear. He returned Jorge's jab with a wink and nothing more, the taunt having apparently fallen on deaf ears.

The horse continued its mad march within the pen, further agitated by the arrival of new faces. As it circled the lot, Angel grabbed his friend's extended hand and, with a small hop, hoisted himself up and over the crudely made fence. He wiped his hands off on his pants before offering one to the priest, Wicks close on his heels. The dark-skinned man sized Jorge up from head to toe, nostrils flaring. There was a snort of contempt as he took in the bandit's appearance, and his friend fought back another laugh.

"Sheriff must've sent you. I've got a horse for you put up in the stables, should you like it. I'd give you this one-" He jabbed a finger behind him "- but it ain't broken yet. If it ever will be. Told me to have it done by sunset or else…"

He glanced at Wicks, who mimed putting a gun against his head and pulling the trigger, his eyes boring a hole into Jorge's skull.

"You get the gist. Anywho, I can give you the horse now. And uh," He turned to look up at Jorge, squinting in the sunlight. "You're welcome to put your horse up in the stables, Mister…?"

@Red Thunder
@Hamlowe

 

[Kuno]

Eczar

THE SALOON​

---

PERRY THE DRUNK | NPC

Never before had coins been pocketed so quickly.

"Oh ho, a generous soul! Just for that, consider yourself employed," Perry said gleefully, grabbing the bottle of alcohol once more. "Here ya go. Another one."

How the man was still conscious and standing was anyone's guess. He poured and poured and poured, until at four glasses had been filled, and he stared, apparently stumped by the two extra drinks. The man then lightly shrugged and pulled the surplus towards himself.

"You know, we used to have a tailor in Highland, Perry thinks. Mmmm, kinda an off-color feller, a lil' queer. Can't remember who got the dysentery first, him or his wife. But his wife, hoo boy, now that woman-"

From the glint in his eye, it was apparent the man had a salacious story in mind. But the sound of footsteps on the staircase stopped him cold. He cocked his head to the side, listening. When an old woman finally appeared, making her way down each step leisurely, Perry began to laugh, there was a nervous edge to it.

"Why Ms. Whitacur! Hell, youse looking mighty fine today. Perry was just showing these folks 'round your fine establishment-"

Ms. Whitacur turned the drunk's way with a cold smile. As she raised her hand in a cordial wave, there was a flash of silver as the pistol in her hand caught the light.

With surprising agility, the man vaulted over the countertop and took off running. By the time Ms. Whitacur came to the bottom of the steps, Perry the Drunk was gone, with only the saloon doors flapping behind him. The old woman peered at the two strangers, eyeing the drinks in front of them.

"Goes to show what people can get up to you while you're away," She said, not unkindly. Though she didn't smile, she appeared amused by Perry's antics. "You pay for those? Thievin's a hanging, you know."

@Applo @Mobley Eats

Eczar

THE INN​

---

OLD MAN WORTH | NPC

The newcomers apparently forgotten, Old Man Worth returned to his chair, placing the bottle of milk on the dresser beside him. He did not so much as stir as David followed the mysterious girl up the stairs.

The second floor was a jarring contrast from the homely Inn lobby. The walls of the hallway were covered in rich, brilliantly colored wallpaper, with an ornate chandelier hanging from the raised ceiling. A plush loveseat was placed at the very end of the hall. It was evident that the Innkeeper - or someone else - had invested a great deal of money into the upstairs area - and recently.

The girl that stood dead center in the hallway did not match the decor. Dressed in a simple smock and apron, her appearance was plain and disheveled, her hair messily pulled away from her face in a french braid. She looked barely older than fourteen.

"What're you doing listening to that old kook? Nobody talks to Old Man Worth. He can barely remember to breathe."

The girl clicked her tongue, shaking her head ruefully at David. Without another word, she motioned for the man to follow her and pushed open the door closest to them, gesturing once more for him to enter.

The room was comfortably small. A single bed lay in the far right corner next to the window, and a large wooden trunk rested at its feet. There was a round table and chair against the opposite wall; someone had placed a vase with fresh flowers upon it. The faint scent of floral perfume hung in the air.

"Here. This room's open...I'll have to grab the key for you later. Pa told me to clean up the place and get it ready for settlers, so there shouldn't be more than a snake or two left in here."

There was a brief pause before she whacked David's arm, laughing lightly. She didn't seem to care if he found her joke funny or not.

"Supper's at five. Just stew and some bread tonight...if you want something else, you'll have to go to the Saloon."

She used the corner of her apron to wipe away at a stain on the bedside table. Her words came as quick as she moved.

"If you need something else, just give a holler. The name's Eliza. Do not bother Old Man Worth, ya hear? Don't ask him anything. He never knows what he's talking about."

@The Wanderer

 

[Red Thunder]

EL BANDITO GUAPO

​

"Jorge Esteban Villacruz del Rios."

The bandit's answer came in a kind of staccato, the man almost biting off each consonant. The scowl on his face matched his tone; he'd expected a better response from Angel, anything besides a damned wink, and somehow the simple return was both too much and not nearly enough.

"The horse? Yes, the sheriff asked me to handle the pinche horse. Tame it or kill it.

"As to this perra…

He gave the nag a lazy kick to the ribs with one foot, digging the spur into the horse flesh deeply. Not that it drew blood; the lack of hair and the hard white hide told witnessed this to be the regular treatment.

"She can go with the Padre, if he will, to the stables." Jorge gave Father Mac a crooked grin, a smile laced with mock-humility. "An opportunity to show God how good a servant we can be: I, to break this pinche horse, and you, to give this perra a drink."

As he spoke, he dismounted and tossed the reins to the priest. Checking the guns on his hips, he approached the fence, passing by Angel and Wicks without so much as a glance. He grunted as he hoisted himself over the fence planks, and his boots threw dust into a small cloud about his feet as he landed. A coil of lasso rope hung from a post nearby; he slung it over one shoulder. Popping his knuckles against his palms, he eased toward the stallion, eyes watching its hoofs carefully.

"Come, pendejo; you give in to me, or you become dog meat. Which will it be?"

And he threw the lasso end at the stallion's head.

 

[The Wanderer]

David

After following the girl up the stairs, and into the room that smelled like someone has spilled perfume or some snake oil all over the room. But said room wasn't all too bad, as it was clean and just enough for someone like David. He'd give a "Mhm." To the girl's joke as he went to the bed, laying his bag on it while stretching his ached body from the ride in the carriage and having to carry his bag for so long.

"That sounds just fine, M'am." He would add to the comment of what was going to be made for supper. Which was something better than hunting and killing a snake, lizard or some small animal, burning it to all hell and having to deal with the taste and chew of that kind of food. Dry and making you thirsty. Part of David wondered if that'd become a big thing, drying meat to the point the desert had more moisture than it and selling it to people. Could be a good way to scam people, get them all thirsty with dried meat and then offer some drink that was a bit expensive.

But said train of thought was pushed aside as David decided to get an answer. "What was the old man going on about the circus?"

@Kuno

 

[Doctor Jax]

Na Zhao
Chinese Herbalist and Fortune Teller
@Kuno

The Chinese immigrant listened attentively to the shopkeeper's words. So there had been others here at the town who had moved on. Her eyes moved briefly across the man's hands, seeing that he had recently come to blows with someone - though he did not seem the brawling type. The same, niggling suspicions about the town began again. Finally, she raised her gaze to look up at him, his wife. This was an odd place. A very odd place.

She felt a little bit like a mouse who had happened upon poisoned food. She could smell it on the bait - but did she dare starve?

Hearing about the mayor and his superstition did spark her interest, and she knew she was taking a nibble of that food just wondering about the possibilities. So they were suspicious folk here. Not surprising. Well... perhaps she should cast out her line and wait for a bite. There may yet be someone interested in the I-Ching. However, it seemed that his Cree wife was far less in favor, the Chinese woman catching her nervousness. Nevertheless...

Again, she was pressed to go to the Inn, and her purse ached at the thought. Her wagon was snug, and more importantly, free of cost. However, she had been upon the road a long while. Perhaps he had a point. So far, he had been perfectly congenial. Maybe this town would not look upon her with as much derision as other hamlets had. She gathered her goods.

"Yes, actually. Is there a well anywhere in the town? Or a place which to take a bath? I was very long on the road to come here. It would be nice," Na asked. The smell of yarrow filled her nose as she placed it in her bag. It was good to know there was an herbalist around. She often made poultices and salves to sell. Yarrow was good to stop bleeding, as well as to make in a tea. Granted, it did not exactly taste good, but some medicines shouldn't.

@Kuno

 

[Mobley Eats]

Moses | Interactions: Henrietta @Applo , Perry & Madam Who's About to Pop a Cap in Our Asses (Ms. Whitacur) @Kuno | Location: The Saloon


...Ah, Hell. He done said the wrong thing, didn't he?

The moment Moses caught that delighted fire in Henrietta's eyes was the moment he knew that his plans of dodging her fangs were ruined. Demolished. Crushed under the heel of his self-tailored boots. And here he thought he was doing damn good at hovering around the conversation rather than skydiving right into its maw.

Welp. No use in fighting the inevitable now. Ma always told Moses that life was nothing short of a rattlesnake coiled tight and ready to strike. Instead of trying to shimmy around it and push on forward, it's wiser to turn heel and take the long route. Safety over time. Security over greed. This day and age might've smiled for the strong and ruthless, but it never last long. Wise words. Good advice that Moses said he would take with him to the grave as a young boy.

Wild how Ma took it to her own before him.

Moses pulled from his thoughts long enough to catch the gist of Henrietta's words and he couldn't help the bemused smirk that dragged lazily across his lips. "Say and declare what you please, Henrietta," he rested a cheek on his chin, the skin smooshing his eye ever so slightly and widening his lop-sided grin further, "I don't bet on anything until it actually happens. Usually how you dodge losing in life." He decided to overlook the handsome gift horse comment and other flattery chucked his way. That wasn't territory fit for his comfort. However, he did have enough mind to crinkle his nose at the wink and wolfish smile, before shaking his head and focusing on Perry once more. First companion I make and probably more damn dangerous than I'm able to handle... Great.

His interest perked up a bit at the mention of a previous tailor, only for his shoulders to slacken in dismay a moment after. Well... that was an abrupt and horrible ending; he supposed his heart went out to the poor couple. "I see... That's damn unfortunate. Here's to hoping I die with more dignity and years under my belt." As he spoke, he offered Henrietta a nod of gratitude upon covering their next round but he failed to toss it back.

Someone else was here. Some elder woman.

With a goddamn gun.

Well, ain't this day escalating mighty fast? Biting back a sigh, Moses watched Perry skedaddle like a sufferer of dysentery himself before standing from his stool to address Ms. Whitacur. It was rude to sit down when introducing oneself to an elder, after all, let alone the supposed owner of an establishment he was in. "Good day, Ms. Whitacur. Hope we didn't cause you no stress after horsing around with Perry... You can sleep well knowing we paid for every round, though I think the drunk pocketed it..." His voice trailed off with a hint of annoyance at the realization. Fuck. Well, nowhere else to go but rockbottom, he supposed. And if he got shot in the process? Well, nothing new there. "I'm willing to work that off. Pay you back with a custom tailored bodice, entire dress if ya like."

He then faintly nodded towards Henrietta. "Maybe even find yourself a quality lady to work here?"

 

[Applo]

---

"Well aren't you just the kindest thing."

Loosing a smile towards Moses for the compliment, Henrietta slipped to her feet just as her drinking companion had. Ms Whitacur didn't appear displeased by what she had walked in on, but there was only one chance to make a first impression. Also, the woman was holding a gun. Sure she wasn't threatening them with it but still, that deserved a little respect.

"As my charming companion said, there appears to have been a little confusion as that man's position here." Though Ms. Whitacur wouldn't know it, Henrietta's tone was considerably less ebullient than it had been while Perry had been loitering behind the bar. Partly this was because it would probably be counterproductive but also because Moses had set her up wonderfully to get her foot in the door here. To work she needed to sound just a touch contrite. "I have worked in establishments like this back in Kansas City. I would be happy to right your losses with a little elbow grease if you'd like madam; that is, if the offer of fine tailoring is not for you."

It was perhaps a little bold, but hopefully, if this lady was so inclined to accept such an offer then Henrietta knew she would have everything she needed to persuade the woman to make it a permanent and paying position. She was certain she could get more of the town's men to spend their dollars here. She had managed it in better and worse places than this saloon. Making someone money was a good way to make someone like you. Flattery was another good way and Henrietta decided to lay a little on to help grease the wheels of the woman's mind.

"Also if I may, that is a fine looking gun you have there. My for-" Catching herself just in time, the redhead cursed internally. Arthur was dead and presumably buried. In the past was where he needed to stay. "My father used to be something of a collector. I've seen plenty of guns but few quite so eye catching as yours Mam."​

---

 

[Hamlowe]

"Friend would be an extra—exan, erm..." McCarthy grimaced in momentary frustration, unable to remember the right word in English. "Not exactly true," he finished. "We have only just been acquainted."

That fact did not seem to stop the ruffian—Hor-something Something del Rios, he parsed out—from entrusting the priest his own horse. Obviously the man fancied himself a mustang tamer extraordinaire. Perhaps that might be something worth seeing, but not at this moment. At the moment, the priest would much rather see to the physical practicalities of the afternoon: taking care of this poor creature, and seeing about his own mount. Admittedly McCarthy did not fancy himself much of a rider, but perhaps it could be good for his constitution, and a way to acquaint himself with people. Did not Saint Paul conduct himself in such a way? Omnibus omnia factus sum, ut omnes facerem salvos.

With that in mind, the priest gave the man called Angel a wordless nod of bidding, and they set off, the layman leading the cleric, the cleric leading the old horse. "Mister Angel," he said after taking a moment to almost catch up, "I should like to ask about the mare I rode on last night, a humble ruddy creature. She was not mine, and I fear I may have ridden her a touch hard in my haste to reach here afore nightfall. Is she well now?"

 

[Kuno]

Eczar

THE GENERAL GOODS STORE​

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SAMUEL & TERESA MAY JAMES | NPC

Samuel James laughed.

What Na had said was nothing extraordinary. It was a simple request, something any road-weary traveler would have asked after finally reaching their destination. Quite frankly, there was nothing remotely humorous about it, and yet the store owner laughed, long and hard, as if the strange woman had told him the world's greatest joke.

Unknowingly, she had.

"Aye, now there's a notion!" Samuel exclaimed a bit too gleefully. "A hot bath, yes! Rightly so. Teresa? What do you think for the young lass?"

Behind her husband, Teresa had all but faded into the background, still as stone, her eyes closed as if in reverence. Not that it mattered a bit - Samuel never turned to address her, and he went on, eyes bright as fiery coals.

"Ach now I don't think we're prepared just yet for it. Try the Inn, dear. Heard the mayor's prepared lodgings for you. And besides-"

Perfectly timed, the town bell chimed once, twice, to mark the hour, and Samuel waited a beat in waning sounds before smiling wanly.

"Supposin' you've anymore questions for me, I'm afraid it will have to wait until morning. Shop's closed."

@Doctor Jax

Eczar

THE STABLES​

---

WICKS & ANGEL | NPC

Once again, Wicks and Angel appeared to share yet another silent exchange as Jorge leapt the fence. What they agreed upon was indiscernible, until at last they separated: Wicks, breaking away towards the penned horse, and Angel smiled after him, tipping his hat.

"Mr. Wicks."

"Mr. Taylor, suh."

As Angel went away towards the stables, Wicks approached the palisade. There was a hard set to his jaw; out of the corner of his eye, he watched as both Father and Angel disappeared into the confines of the building, and then, and only then, did he finally scale the tall side of the enclosure.

Jorge's words had not faded from his mind. In retrospect, it was not too offensive. They were frontier men, Angel and Wicks and Jorge, and so held the gritty, off-color patois of seasoned Western cowboys. It was an easily forgiven sin in a lesser man's eyes.

Had it been directed at someone other than Angel, and the words might have gone ignored. But it had not been so.

Mr. Wicks was a simple man. He knew only one form of justice, and it lied at his right and left sides.

Up ahead the horse, for all its domineering stature, seemed to rear back from the men as far away as it could get, chased back by the quick approach of Wicks. The African man wasted little time; as Jorge issued his challenge to the wild horse, Wicks gave his own, in the form of a massive fist aimed straight for the Mexican's nose.

---------------------

Much like the palisade residing just outside, the stables was a crudely built establishment, as if worked in haste. To be fair to its caretakers, it remained a clean and well-maintained environment. A dozen pens, six for each side, lied within. As they passed the first row, Angel, seeing the priest with Jorge's horse, graciously extended his hand to take the reins. He listened intently to the Irishman's words.

"Mare? I reckon I don't follow. There's no horses back here at the moment."

And indeed it was true. Every pen sat empty, waiting for a willing - or perhaps, unwilling - occupant. Still, Angel took a moment to glance about, shaking his head as his vision yielded nothing.

"Sorry," He said, shrugging lightly. "Do you remember where you last put her? I think Wicks told me something about a dead horse out by, let's see...or maybe that was the other one."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but the tolling of the town bell interrupted him. The handsome man waited until the noise faded before meeting the priest's eyes, compassion in his eyes.

"Tell you what: I can help you look for the horse, but we gotta hurry. Curfew's coming. Sheriff won't like us out."

@Red Thunder
@Hamlowe

 

[Kuno]

Eczar

THE SALOON​

---

PERRY THE DRUNK | NPC

The saloon owner betrayed no emotions as she stood at the counter, patiently listening to the two strangers. At closer glance, she seemed a lady of refined taste. Dressed in a taupe tea gown with assorted ruffles, a jeweled headpiece coiffed her white hair at the top. It was evident that she was once a very beautiful woman in her youth. Her eyes, a warm, gentle brown, peered with a keen attentiveness to first Moses, then Henrietta, and she smiled warmly.

Then she spoke.

"Cut the shit, darling. Do I look senile to you?"

Without warning, the old woman dropped the pistol in her hand on the counter, and she made an impatient gesture towards it.

"This gun's been beaten to hell and back. Look at it. Don't try to heap fiery coals on my damned head. I invented flattery."

She showed little regard for it as she moved away. Should Moses or Henrietta inspect the gun, they would find the chambers entirely empty.

"Jesus Christ, would you look at this," the old woman tutted, looking at the empty glasses Perry had left her. "I should call the sheriff-"

She paused as the sound of the town bell echoed across the area. Her head tilted; slowly, as if being made to, she turned back towards the two strangers. Her lips thinned into a small smile.

"I tell you what: clean up the place. After that, come back tomorrow and I'll consider hiring you. Maybe." After a moment, she jabbed a finger in Moses' direction. "And you'd better clear out of here. If you don't pay your damn tab by tomorrow, I'll send the sheriff after you."

She glanced outside, where the sun had managed to draw past the twin plateaus. She clucked her tongue.

"Better do it fast. Curfew's coming…"

@Applo @Mobley Eats

Eczar

THE INN​

---

ELIZA | NPC

Apparently the room was not enough for the young girl's high standards. Despite its pristine condition, Eliza still fluttered about the room, tucking in a corner of the sheet here, rubbing away at some stain there, clucking about much like a chicken. Even as David spoke, she paused only briefly to shoot him a distracted look.

"I told you already. Don't listen to that-"

Abruptly she stopped, understanding of what the man had just said finally dawning on her. She turned to look at David fully. Her eyes were wide.

"Circus?" Eliza asked. She drew a step closer, nervously pulling at her skirts. "Is that all he said…?"

In the distance, just outside the confines of the building, the town bell issued out its warning: dusk was drawing near. Eliza's head swiveled towards the noise then back, apparently discombobulated. She stared at the ground a moment, deep in thought.

"I'm sorry, he's just a crazy old man. He, uh, he- he probably, um. You know."

Fidgeting with her skirt, her eyes darted around the room before settling on the floor. Finally, she ducked her head.

"Curfew's coming soon. You should...come down for dinner when you can."

@The Wanderer

 

[Applo]

---

"Right away Mam." Dropping her act like a hot coal, Henrietta scuttled behind the bar and surveyed what lay ahead of her. Some people were immune to charm, and Mrs Whitacur was clearly one of them; trying would be a fools game and probably counter-productive. Better to do what was asked right now. She had clearly done enough to get her foot in the door, now all she had to do was force it open; even if that did mean mopping up muddy footprints, washing bottles and wiping up whatever it was that was making the bar so… sticky. Henrietta decided to start with the bottles. That was easy progress to make.

"Hey handsome, could ya do me a small favour? With an empty bottle in each hand, the red head turned to her drinking companion. "Would ya mind terribly walking my horse over to the inn and tell the owner that I'll be needing a room. Be a shame for me to get there and them have no place for me to lay my head.That would leave me in a real desperate predicament now wouldn't it."

The wink that followed was probably an unnecessary addition to the unstated implications of her statement, but Henrietta was enjoying teasing Moses just a little too much to restrain herself. Mopping a floor featured far too heavily in her immediate future for her taste. She needed to amuse herself somehow. On that note, she was going to need to find a bucket. Hopefully the scullery in this place had its own pump.​

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Mentions @Mobley Eats @Kuno