West Elizabeth
Tall Trees

Savage had made his way to the very edge off the plains where the trees began to thin out abruptly. He paused then and dismounted, moving at once to check his surroundings and make sure he wasn't being followed. For a time, all he could hear was the breeze and his horse breathing heavily beside him. It didn't seem like the other bounty hunters were following him.

He put his pistol away and drew his rifle from a saddle scabbard. Then he waited until the sun was near to setting, keeping a watchful eye on the tree line just in case. After ,a while it became clear that nobody was coming his way. He put the rifle back in its place and took the reins of his horse to scout the area.

It was in the dying light that he found a small bowel in the earth just in the woods. His horse tried to pull away from him toward the lovely, green grass in the fields, but he gave it a tug back to him.

"Not now," he whispered. "I can't have you grazing now. Here..."

Savage reached into one of his saddle bags and pulled out some reasonably fresh, relatively small apples. He held them out to the horse who, after a moment sniffing them, munched happily. Savage continued to feed the animal by hand for a while, burning through his supply of oats and fruits.

"There you go. Happy now."

The horse stayed where it was when he let go of the lead. He began to unstrap the riding gear and pull them free of the animal to lighten its load. Then he pulled a stiff brush and ran it over the matted fur, much to the delight of the animal. It was by moon light that Savage did this as the sun had set while he was taking the saddle gear off. Hours passed as he tended to the animal.

"Can I get you to lay down for a night," he whispered. The horse made a huffing sound and changed its posture some. It was a coincidential action, ,however Savage went with it. "I know you don't like it. I need you to lay down, though. Come on. You can graze to your hearts content tomorrow."

It took many more minutes to get the animal to lay down. Once he did, Savage took a length of cloth and tied it over the animal's head to cover its eyes, then continued brushing until it became still. Soon after that, he had a bit of food for himself and went to sleep.

Morning came in good time and Savage was roused by the first beams of light to hit him. He took in his surroundings first then, once he felt safe, stretched and checked on his horse. The animal continued to slumber so he went and relieved himself. Then he ate a small bit of breakfast, grabbed his rifle and got up for a walk.

Savage quickly found a spot with a decent view of the plains and just enough tall grass to give him decent concealment. He beat the tall grass to ensure there weren't any snakes or massively offensive rodents in the spot then made himself comfortable in the prone position. Then he waited.

Two hours passed before he saw movement to his left. Three horses came walking out of the trees into the plains. They didn't hesitate in their progress but wary heads did turn to scan the area. One of the horses carried two passengers, one of whom had their hands tied.

Savage waited and watched intently, letting the three animals get farther into the grassland. They were a bit too close for his comfort, so he let them gain a bit of distance. Then he began to take careful aim with his Springfield. At just about one hundred fifty yards, he squeezed the trigger.

There was a crash of thunder and the big, ugly .45 cal slug raced for its target. The impact would be bone-crushing at this range and it had its intended affect. The horse, on which two people rode, flinched as if it had been stung by an especially large bug then went straight into panic. He hit it in the hind-quarters just shy of the back rider's leg. The animal screamed and bucked, throwing the fugitive off of it and occupying the rider's complete attention.

The other two riders pulled their horses to a startled halt and began to fantically look around. Sound carried in odd ways on the plains and despite the puff of black powder from Savage's initial shot, the men on horseback did not find him. Savage hit the lever on the trap door and slipped a fresh round into the chamber with the smooth precision of hours of training then aimed up for a second shot.

The thunder came again and Savage watched as it appeared to strike the target cleanly in the lower abdomin. To his immense surprise, the man not only stayed on the horse but, after grabbing himself, seemed to be still in the fight - even if a bit sluggish after the rifle strike.

The two riders seemed to spot him at the same time while the third continued to fight his animal for control. They aimed their pistols and began to fire. Surprisingly enough, one of the bullets they fired managed to strike Savage - however it was a graze. Judging by the spread of their shots they had only really seen the smoke. On top of that, they were trying to make pistol shots at over one hundred yards.

Savage reloaded and fired again. This time his target jerked from the impact of the heavy .45 ball of lead and slid from his horse. The animal seemed to of had enough and began racing across the field back toward the trees. Savage reloaded and fired again, aiming at the second rider, but his round only clipped the man.

By now the wounded horse had given up the struggle and toppled to the ground. The rider managed to safely dismount and move clear of the still thrashing beast. He had a lever-action in his hands and went prone to try and take a shot at Savage while his friend emptied his revolver in the gunman's direction.

Their return fire ended up being a lot more effective than Savage had hoped for. He felt one bullet from the lever-action skip over his ribs on his back. The pistol slammed into his left bicep but, by that time, had lost a lot of its energy. Both shots drew blood.

With his left arm now numb, Savage adjusged his hold on the rifle, now resting it over his forearm instead of holding it. He worked the breach and loaded another shell. When he fired this time it knocked the rider off of his horse. He reloaded and took aim on the rider who had gone prone. The man was having issues keeping his rate of fire up due to the nature of the lever action. This time Savage's aim was true and the lead slug struck him in the head.

Savage took a breath and gritted his teeth. He sat up and, after reloading his rifle, laid it beside himself in the grass. Then he pulled his duster off and rolled up his sleeve to check his left arm.

"Damn it," he mumbled.

It took a bit of work and the rest of his whisky but he managed to use his skinning knife to extract the slug. Pain had never been a major limiting factor for Savage, ,however he was very happy to have finished this task in good time. He poured the rest of the whisey over the wound and wrapped it up. When he stood, he held onto his belt buckle to try and keep the arm from moving around too much. Then he picked up and slung his rifle before drawing his pistol. Now on foot, he started walking into the plains to retrieve his bounty.

"Hubbard," he called out. "Do the smart thing and stay where you are."

"I'm not fucking goin' anywhere, you asshole," came the reply.

Savage smiled and walked until he could clearly see where the bounty was. He hadn't gone for a weapon but instead was laying down holding his leg as best as he could.

"You okay?"

"Do I fuck'n look okay to you?"

"Yeah. Come on," he said, putting his revolver away. "I got you a replacement horse."

"Much obliged," he replied, sarcasm as thick as the pain in his voice. "My leg is broken, I think."

"Good thing you'll be riding to town, then."

Savage helped the man up and walked him to the last horse. The animal was startled but gravitated toward them out of familiarity. It was used to people. He helped the bounty onto the horse then stripped it of the saddle bags and any weapons that might have been in the packs. He took any .45 ammo he could find but not the weapons.

"You're just leaving their pieces...?"

"Already have all that I need."

"You could sell them. Probably get you more than I will."

"Nah."

The bounty seemed perplexed by this but offered no resistance. The rest of the morning was spent getting ready for the trip across the plains.

Temp pressed her lips together, her fire already starting to cool as Roz reprimanded her. Guilt was a small, quiet thing that crawled up her throat. Roz was... she was good to her. Patient. Gave her more chances than she shoulda.

Roz was fretting over the cut that Temp had already forgotten about. Temp clenched her jaw to hold back her immediate response – that she’d made it this long without a mother and didn’t need one now. She breathed out slow. Roz didn’t deserve that.

”Ya didn’t exactly hire me for my customer service skills,” she mumbled half heartedly. She took the towel and ice from her boss before Roz could even attempt to treat her. ”...Sorry. Won’t shout unless someone deserves it.” Her voice was soft, tempering some of her usual gruffness. Temp looked down at the towel in her hand, the ice’s chill already starting to seep through it. She tapped it twice against her other hand, listening to the rattle of ice. ”I cost you customers, take it out of my pay or cut me loose.” She glanced up at Roz for the briefest of moments.

Then she moved past her, back towards the front of the saloon. ”Bar’s unmanned,” she mumbled. She pressed the towel up to her brow for Roz’s sake, feeling the ice bite into her skin.

Back in the front, Temp moved to the bar. Her eyes found the woman she’d snapped at. Temp gave a quiet sigh. Looked away. Back at the woman. ”What’ll ya have?” It was the closest she was going to get to an apology.

Once Leo and the pretty proprietor left John had a mind to simply sit for a while and dust off as much free moonshine as he felt was needed. He was already two and a half glasses in when four shots rang out outside of the saloon at almost exactly the same time. Then nothing... A telltale sign of a duel, albeit a very unfair one. His initial reaction was to take another gulp of moonshine as some others rushed towards the door to see what went on. He didn’t give a shit if someone had just choked out their last, that happened pretty often in his line of work. It was only the next couple of gunshots that brought him back out of the bottle and made him remember Leo. He’d only left a minute or so before.

With a quick and angry curse he slammed down his glass and got to his feet, rushing towards the door like the others had done. Some gawking asshole who found himself in his path got barged to the side as John exited the saloon behind the man who had just killed the ones Leo hadn’t managed to get. Looked like he’d managed to end the bastard he wanted to though. Good kid.

“I’ll get the damn preacher at least. Or I’ll watch over him while someone does. He was a… I knew him.” John spoke at Leo’s avenger.

He leaned down and picked up the kids fallen Schofield, examining it in his hand. It looked pretty old but it was easy to tell Leo had taken care of it. He thought for a moment before replacing it inside it’s holster.

“Don’t know where you’re going Leo but ya might still need that.”

John took a quick look around at some of the people gawking before setting eyes on a kid who appeared to be around the age of twelve.

“Hey you, kid! Go get the sheriff, the preacher and whoever makes the furniture around here and I’ll give you a few dollars when they’re here.”

The kid ran off and John stood tall. Leo would need whatever cash he had on him for a half decent burial. He knew as soon as he left some of these folks would be at the body like vultures. Far as he was concerned they could have the other three but Leo was keeping his property as long as he could. A small and pointless thanks for the whiskey and food.

"Can ya say that again ma?" Maddie nearly choked on her words, tears pooling at the corner of her eyes and threatening to slide down her powdered cheeks.

Margaret looked away from her daughter in shame. It pained her to have to repeat such dirty words, but she'd already crossed the damn line and she couldn't turn back now. "I bedded your husband, darlin'," she repeated herself, looking at Maddie once more, "some time before you two married. Your brother had left town and your father...well, he wasn't a damned bit concerned about intimacy. When Samuel came--"

Her words were cut short the instant Maddie's palm made contact with Margaret's face. Neither woman spoke for a while. Maddie was meaning to tell her mother how her faithful husband of many years had died, how it wasn't an accident, but now her intentions had changed.

"You know Samuel killed daddy? He didn't go over the edge trying to fix that light...he was pushed."

Margaret gave her daughter the look. "He told you that?" she asked with a hint of skepticism, rubbing her sore cheek.

"I overheard him tellin' Benjamin. I overhead a lot of things, to be frank with you, and that's why I came here wantin' to tell ya." Never mind what I just did to Minnie... Maddie shook her head with a sigh, walking towards the door. "I cannot be here ma. I need to go out and think."

Maddie didn't wait for a response. She stepped out and headed towards the saloon for a drink, her face displaying a mix of emotions. The one man in her life that wasn't blood and mattered to her was destroying her family from within. And now at the very least he'd question her about Minnie. But that was easy; some women died at childbirth.

Caught up in her thoughts, Maddie was startled when she heard gunshots go off in the distance. For some reason, she picked up the pace towards the saloon, and roughly half a minute later Maddie reached the narrow street to witness the aftermath of what appeared to have been a duel. She noticed a man approaching one of the deceased, the one who had been outgunned. For whatever reason she was both relived and disappointed it wasn't Samuel lying dead on the ground.

"Looks like he was at a disadvantage. You a friend of his?" she asked, taking notice of the holstered weapon.

Seven looked at the man's wanted poster as she took a swig of the juice, swishing it around in her mouth before a hard swallow. The man had introduced himself, but Seven was reluctant to extend the same courtesy. It wasn't long before the bar's owner chimed in demanding that Seven be claimed and relocated.

Draven watched her as the shots rang out and continued to do so when the adults returned. He followed the little girl's eyes, tried to see what she was seeing, think what she was thinking. As he watched, it was obvious that Seven's focus was lacking. She was more interested in watching the adults react to one another than offering any information or participation of her own. Maybe she was scheming, or perhaps she was startled because of all the commotion. Seven's eyes eventually caught his own and the world slowed down for a split second. They both turned to stone and stared for what felt like half an hour but was truly as long as two blinks of an eyelid. It was a que.

"C'mon now, girl," he called out, beckoning her over with a few waves of his arms. She nodded and obeyed, bringing her glass of lemonade with her before sitting at the opposite end of Draven's table. He looked up to the man that had introduced himself earlier as Erik. "She's called Seven," he announced as he gave Erik a once over. With one of Erik's questions answered, he felt the need to address the other. "And you're lookin' for some Melbattons, huh?" His tone gave away that Draven was less than impressed by them.

"Are you a bounty hunter?" It was a question, but out of Seven's mouth, it sounded more like an accusation.

"Hey," Draven barked, scowling at the girl. "Shut it." He gave the girl a look that lions reserve for when they have to deal with their enemies. The fiery grimace soon faded into a face of innocent curiosity as he turned his attention back to Erik. "You a bounty hunter?"

It wasn't difficult for Erik to comprehend that his actions would garner such reactions that he got. He wasn't surprised, not one bit, he had just shot two men after all. So when the lady bartender who had just jumped the counter told him to get he preacher himself, Erik looked up at her with a calm and collected face. If she was going to lose her shit over this, he sure wasn't. "I would, my good madam, but I don't know where the preacher is." Erik casually told the quite temperamental lady. And not long after, the boss-woman also joined the conversation.

She was more polite than the freckled on, however her authority weighed heavier than the first one. "No, I'm not. With all due respect, ma'am, if I was, the saloon would be one of the last places I'd allow her to roam around." Erik still hadn't gotten an answer from the little girl on why she was there at all, and he suspected that he wouldn't be getting one either way. Some kids opened their mouth and never closed it if you got them started. Others rarely even spoke with their parents unless neccecary. Giving little Seven a kind look as she was finally given her glass of lemonade, Erik smiled at her and turned back to Roz behind the counter. "I like to think so too, ma'am. Just keeping an eye on her, being an responsible adult." Erik continued to tell Roz, lifting up his glass of whiskey and emptying the few last drops that had remained.

He was starting to doubt whether or not he was going to find any answers here, seen as he'd have to explain himself since he first set foot in that little town. "I will do that, my good lady, I will. But for now I just need another drink and some rest for my sore…" Erik began to tell her, stopping himself from saying the word "ass" and instead ending it on "…backside. But that man needs a preacher first, that sorry hombré. Could I get another glass of whiskey, ma'am`? Please."

Another man decided to get the Preacher there by sending another kid in the saloon out to get him. It was the same man who'd sat with the Mexican fella over at the poker game, or so he thought. It was difficult to discern what was going on outside from the counter where Erik sat. When he returned, the Mexican's friend, Erik would get a word in with him. If not for information, then in the very least his condolences and whether he could help.

Erik turned around in his seat when he heard someone call for the little girl. She had remained silent as ever, drinking from the lemonade Erik bought for her and making her way over to a man seated in the saloon. With or without the second glass of cheap American whiskey in hand, Erik got up and followed after Seven towards the table. Erik stood there for a moment, just looking at the stranger who told him she was called Seven. "Seven, aye?" Erik repeated her name, giving her a brief look with his innocent smile from before, before looking back again.

Did he say "Melbattons"? Erik looked at the man in disbelief for a solid handful of seconds, did he really have any clues on them? Before Erik could pry for more information, little Seven asked Erik bluntly if he was a bounty hunter. Draven's barking at her made Erik look back at the mysterious man, holding up his hand while telling him "No no, that's quite alright. The little lady is entitled to ask." Erik chuckled at the fact Draven repeated the question, pulling out a chair and taking a seat with them. "Yes and no, mister. I've been looking for the Melbattons for a while now. No, I'm not a bounty hunter. Not by profession or intention, if you understand? I have some unfinished…business with them. Personal, very personal. Do you know where I can find them, Mister…?"

James entered the saloon of Black water with a cocky smile plastered on his face. It was a good day's work and he intended to blow off some steam in the best way possible, cards and whiskey, and, if he was lucky, maybe sweet talk one of the local ladies. Walking over to the bar keep he placed down some money “A bottle a whiskey and a glass.” as he awaited his drink of choice he took a moment to survey his surroundings and scope out who was in the saloon with him. The current patrons where to be expected, no one to fancy but not dirt poor like in some towns he had been in. Turning around behind him he grabbed the bottle and the glass and began to head towards one of the tables. Just as he was about to leave he pulled out another small amount of money placing it on the table. “And get another for the beautiful lass here.” He said tilting his head to the women who had been standing beside them. Before she had any time to say something James was already making his way over to a card table inviting himself to play.

Even though her eyes were enraptured into the patterning of the table, her ears were alert and listening as she kept her head lowered. The Saloon doors swung open behind her as a lone figure thudded their way up to the bar- and placed an order of Whiskey for her? She’d be damned if some fool was trying to pick her up having just walked into the establishment. Her head perked up slowly as the bartender nodded, glanced at Nora (making her sneer in disgust) as his grin widened before moving on to bring a second shot-glass of Mule Skinner. Whoever had placed the order quickly doubled back to one of the corner tables of the Saloon, as she could hear the new arrival seat himself at one of the gambling tables. Swallowing the rest of the first glass, she held her hand up to refuse the second- she didn’t trust getting intoxicated on someone else’s good charms. Who knows what they’d do. Humoring her curiosity, Nora tipped her hat back and turned around to see the individual who’d just entered at the table; eyes scanning him like a hawk. Every subtle detail to be analyzed, she had already mentally cataloged. The man seemed overly confident- relaxed. Perhaps a bit snide, cocky… Yet, he wasn’t a pervish loon like the bartender, so that was an improvement. Glancing away, Nora turned back to the bar in precedence to be distracted but kept the new figure within her peripheral vision.

James having sat down at the table, quickly fell into the pace of the game cracking jokes and telling stories of past adventures with the men all while downing whiskey shot after whiskey shot. It was either the whiskey or it was needed for a little entertainment this evening but James got a devilish idea as he saw that some tension was starting to rise at the table. Still winning his fair share James, however, started making sure the man on his left would win whenever it was his turn to deal. Of course, to make things more interesting he would always give someone a hand that would almost win only to be beaten by the man on the left. Seeing as how the men slowly began to become mad at one another James decided to speed up the process a little with mans best friend, Alcohol. Ordering another bottle for the table he merely had to bide his time until he found the right opportunity.

After about all the bottle had been downed in record fashion, taking only about two hands, the deck came back to James to be dealt out. Figuring now was as good a time of any James dealt out the hand seemingly normal, except for the fact that he made sure the man to his left an ace of hearts while also slipping over another ace of hearts to the man on his right. As the hand continued everything seemed to go normally until hands were shown revealing the same cards.

Almost immediately the two were at each other's throats leaping across the table starting to fight it out which spread throughout the bar as James calmly stayed seated for a minute. After seeing total chaos had taken over the bar he calmly grabbed what money was on the table as well as what was left of his whiskey bottle he calmly made his way to the door.

Just when she thought she had a break. The bastard that walked in had started a bar fight. Even more unfortunately for her, was that the bartender behind the counter saw this as an opportunity to make his move. With a malicious chuckle, the man used the sudden eruption of chaos to lean in and violently attempt to latch onto Nora’s collar with his right hand in an attempt to take her over the countertop with him. Not being one to literally want another count of manslaughter on her hands, the woman took the partially full shot glass in her left hand and swing the object in an open-palm strike across the man’s temple. The man’s eyes widened a second before the crystalline fragmentation splintered across the side of his head, with fine granules seeping into the soft sclera of his eyes. With a reflexive yell, the man let go as Nora made a mad dash to the exit of the bar. The brawl was nothing short of full-on chaos now. Chairs were being overturned, bottles went sailing through the air, and one man was picked up and hurled out of a nearby window. She knew that the man responsible most likely dipped as soon as the fight broke out, and wasn’t sure just who she’d encounter upon exiting from the bar.

All things considered, her plan with the documents was ground to a halt, and now she’d have another count of assault on her record should the law enforcement of Blackwater somehow meet with the province of Lemonye.

James calmly walked out the main door to the saloon narrowly dodging a variety of bottles and bodies that were being thrown around. Stepping into the main street James let out a small laugh “Another good days work.” he said before lifting his bottle up high letting the Whisky flow down his throat as he closed his eyes. His movement was suddenly stopped when he felt something pushing against his chest. As he stopped he opened up one eye looking around the bottle to see a man with a rifle pressed against his chest. Slowly lowering the bottle back to his side James tried to study the man “Do I know you?” James asked.

“Your gonna remember us here in a second you damn cheat.” as soon as the man finished James heard footsteps coming from the side and the sound guns being drawn. Looking around slightly James could see that he was now surrounded.

“Did I beat you at poker?” James asked with a sarcastic joking voice mocking the man.

“Enough games Kelly. You crossed the wrong man ya hear.” the man said knocking the whiskey bottle out of James’s hand as it broke on the dirt street.

“Now that was a waste of perfectly good whiskey.” James was about to say something else when he felt a hard hit in his gut from the man's rifle butt. Dropping to his knees James doubled over in pain from the hit. Yet unlike most James let out a laugh from his position. “You know you’d think id remember beating a bunch of sorry sights as yourselves in a poker game.” for this James received a hard kick in the stomach forcing him to roll over onto his side for a moment.

“We’re O’driscolls you hear. You best show us respect you drunk cheat.” the man said as he cocked the rifle moving it to aim at James’s head.

“O’driscolls? Well shit. I should have shot you to then.”

As luck would have shined upon the keeled over man, Nora came walking out of the saloon to see the group encircling the downed bastard. She would’ve smiled internally had these men not been wearing the signature black trenches and wide brim hats of the O’Driscolls. If she didn’t act fast, the man was sure to lose more than the little sense of smug pride he had. No-one else had their guns on the downed cheat except one, and the rifle was aligned with his head. The woman growled out, “God-dammit..”, sighed, and burst out of the saloon doors and screamed at the top of her lungs. “SOMEONE THREW DYNAMITE- IT’S GOING TO BLOW! GET DOWN!” In the blink of an eye, as the gang members looked to the woman and peered into the saloon before beginning to step back, Nora seized the opportunity to quickdraw her revolvers and fire two shots in rapid succession. The first bullet from the right Schofield firmly planted itself in the gunman’s temple. The man grunted as his hands clenched reflexively; squeezing the trigger. The rifle exploded in a flash of combusting gunpowder- propelling the bullet a few inches into the dirt right next to t Jame’s head. The second bullet found its way into the talking man’s open mouth, burying itself into the back of his neck with a heavy crunch.

“MOVE! NOW!” The woman shouted to James, hoping the stunned man would recover and heed her instructions. She whistled, and the Arabian jerked his head and pulled backward- the reigns snapping off the hitching post as the horse obediently galloped toward his master, trampling the remaining standing men and crushing the leader’s head flat into the ground. She goddamn hoped rescuing this fool would be worth the trouble.

James not waiting a second longer instantly began scrambling up to his feet while whistling for his horse. Looking up as he ran he could see the women he had bought a drink for running for her horse as well after having shot the O’Driscolls that were around. Grabbing hold of Iris’s reigns James through himself up onto the saddle kicking the horse slightly starting to gallop head to catch up with the women.

John turned to look at the lady who had approached, curious about her. She didn’t seem at all squeamish at the sight of the four corpses strewn about. Not that all women were, he’d met some womenfolk bounty hunters and even one or two outlaws. Typically those that lived in towns kept their distance from such trouble though. Most men who weren’t looking for something in particular did too now that he thought about it. John must have seemed oddly confused by her question. His brow furrowed and he scratched his moustache as if contemplating an infinitely more complex and philosophical matter. He worked with Leo and he’d bought him food and drink without seeming to expect anything in return. Did that make him a friend?

John sighed wearily. “He might have been. We only recently started working together though. And yeah, these bastards certainly outgunned him. If it’d been anything close to fair he’d have gave them a hell of a fight... Kid was fierce.” He spoke matter of factly, twiddling his thumbs somewhat anxiously as he stared down. It seemed he found it easier to look into Leo’s dead face, blood leaking out of the bullet wound on his forehead and down past his eyes than to look at the woman in the eyes.

“You seem pretty at ease around this bloody business… What do you do around here?”

"I've seen plenty of blood, yes, been around death more than once or twice."

Maddie studied the man's face, noticing his lack of eye contact. He didn't seem like the shy type, but Maddie summed it up to nerves. He'd just lost a friend after all, one that had been tragically taken too soon, soon enough to leave at least one other person hoping the young man would have ended up with better odds. Maddie looked down at the deceased once more before she spoke.

"But I'm simply a midwife. I help the women here deliver their babies and although it should be a joyous experience, sometimes the woman doesn't make it. Hell, sometimes the baby doesn't either. The ones that do end up as orphans and in some cases that might as well be a life sentence. It's just the way it is."

Maddie then wiped her hands on her skirt before introducing herself. "I'm Madeleine Hart, pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you are?"

“John Stone.” He said simply, forcing himself to look her in the eyes this time. Now that he was actually looking at her he could discern details about her far more vividly. Simple things like her skin was a slightly darker shade than his despite all the time he spent riding in the sun. She had soft hazel eyes that looked almost gold in the dimming sunlight. Most importantly she looked somewhat disturbed… Or maybe not disturbed. A subtle mix of angry and upset perhaps. John got the feeling it wasn’t from the bodies though.

“Please just call me John. I’m really not one for formalities if I’m honest… Don’t really spend enough time with people to learn them or get used to them.”

"Well, that's a shame," Maddie added, taking a step closer to John. She was intrigued by the scar over his eye, although she didn't stare as she didn't want to come off as rude or disrespectful. "Listen, John, would you-" Maddie paused, looking around for a moment and lowering her voice down to a whisper, "would you help me get rid of someone?"

Her heart was pounding. Up to that point, she hadn't told a soul about her intentions on getting back at her husband. Posing such question to a stranger she'd just met was at best impulsive, but judging by John's appearance alone, she assumed he was someone who didn't mind getting his hands dirty.

John couldn’t help but smirk at the question. This was a lady who saw him clearly for what he was. He didn’t exactly make it difficult he supposed. If you looked at him long enough you could properly find bloodstains on his clothes easy enough. He leaned in a little more and made sure to lower his voice as well, though not quite to a whisper. He didn’t want to seem too suspicious to anyone who happened to be looking at them.

“Killing really ain’t no thing Ms. Hart. Getting away with it in a community this small is though. Unless you plan on leaving this town straight after this kind of thing will require some subtlety.” John spoke, rubbing his chin as he thought. “I ain’t saying I’m not interested in the work but I will need two things… Money, of course. And a plan, unless you want me to just deal with it as I see fit? We could do with a better place to discuss this as well… You know anywhere we could meet away from prying eyes and ears?”

Maddie flashed him a smile. “Glad I have you onboard.”

She motioned for John to follow her, guiding him towards her home. “I have an idea of what I want to do, but you’re more than welcome to offer suggestions on how the plan can be improved. But of course that’s going to have to wait, so let’s talk payment. What’s your asking price?”

John looked up the street before following Ms. Hart, spotting the boy returning with both the preacher and the sheriff. He took three dollars out of his pocket and approached them as he followed Maddie. He gave the kid a nod of gratitude and handed him the money.

“Don’t forget to fetch the furniture maker too. There should be enough in Leo’s pockets to cover the cost of a decent casket. If there isn’t tell him to come find me in the saloon.” With that said and done, he continued on with his newfound employer, pretty much completely blanking both the sheriff and preacher. The less he said to them at the moment the better.

“The cost will depend on who you want gone. The sheriff back there will cost more than some cowpoke… Won’t be too expensive though. Especially for one person, won’t have to consider the cost of travel or ammo or nothing.” John spoke calmly, now quite a bit more comfortable talking about a subject he had a lot of experience in.

"Ah, well, my husband's a piece of work. I'm sure he's wanted in the next town, and the one after that, but here he just happens to be perfect. That bastard doesn't have one good bone in his goddamn body, so he gets my blood boilin real good if he tries."

The two conversed some more, mostly in the form of complaints from Maddie as she rambled on until they reached her house not too far off. Once they walked in, the young woman offered John a seat before stepping into the kitchen to fetch him a drink. She figured a bit of politeness would go a long way, especially with a killer. If he didn't drink, then he was insane.

"Here ya go," Maddie walked back into view, handing off the glass of whisky. She took a seat across John and waited until he took his first sip.

"Now, let's talk business. Like I said earlier my husband comes back to town tomorrow. I know his route like the back of my hand therefore I believe an ambush would be best. We take 'em by surprise and he don't know what hit 'em before he's dead. That's given he's traveling alone, but I will be there regardless."

Maddie then leaned back, her fingers tapping at the side of the piece of furniture.

John leaned back in his chair, sipping at the whiskey he’d been given as he studied the woman’s face for any sign of doubt or apprehension. If there was any there he couldn’t see it and he was usually surprisingly good at reading people. He’d pretty much had to be his entire life. Being able to tell when his father was in an unusually violent or unstable mood as a child had saved him many a beating. He’d learned when to be quiet and when to disappear simply by observing. It was a skill that had come in handy dealing with folks like himself over the years. He kind of wanted to ask Madeleine what it was that made her decide on killing her husband but he didn’t want to make her think about it too much. She might change her mind. Then he’d be out of any money he’d be making from the venture and have possible loose ends to tie up. He’d never killed a woman before. He didn’t want to start with her. So far he kind of enjoyed her.

“If he’s on his lonesome and you know whereabouts he’ll be so we can ambush him it’ll be an easy job. $20 will do it for my end. Any unforeseen circumstances that pop up we can discuss once it’s done. One thing though, at the moment I only have a shotgun and revolver with me, which means I’m going to have to get up reasonably close to do the deed. You think you could arrange that?”

"Of course. I lure him in some way out away from town, cryin to him how I been robbed and ridiculed by a couple of bandits before you swept in and saved the day. He may thank you, he may shoot you," she shrugged, knowing that a man such as John wasn't bothered by a few blunt words, "and that's when you get your go at 'em."

There was something about the way he stared at her as she spoke that made Maddie decide she wanted a drink as well. She was going to the saloon for that same purpose after all, to not drink alone. She excused herself to grab what little was left of the whisky. "His mistress died during childbirth, you know," she went on from the next room, finding it easier to lie. She had to convince herself of such before she tried to convince anyone else, including Samuel. "That's the reason I'll use for my unplanned departure tryin to find him. His baby girl got snatched up too, real sad. Bet it's those same people he's wronged in the past."

Maddie approached him once more, now with a glass in hand. She took a seat before sipping on the drink, welcoming the burning sensation left by the liquid traveling down her throat. "I can work with $20, you have my word on that."

As Finn barrelled towards the approaching carriage he slipped his Winchester shotgun from its holster and focused himself. He could see clearly now that Freya was the one driving, at least seven horsemen hot on her tail. His heart was still pounding like crazy, but it still wasn’t himself that he was worried about.

He blazed past her and the wagon before unloading his first shot at practically point blank range into the lead rider, his approach hidden by the carriage until the last moment.

His shot was true and the man had little chance to do anything other than die as he flew backwards twisted in a brutal red mist.

Finn gripped his horse with his knees as in one motion he cocked the lever action and immediately fired into the second rider that came into his sights - the buckshot again found its mark as the man tumbled backwards over his horse and into the dirt as Finn sped past.

The remaining riders veered before he could repeat the feat once more and he yanked Beethoven’s reigns which sent the horse into a skid as he fired a third shot barley catching one of the men in a grazing wound as he tried to dodge out of the way.

Urging the horse onwards he pressed himself down into the saddle as one of the men began firing his revolver at him, several of the rounds whipping past him before he returned fire. Three slugs later the man toppled from his saddle as Finn’s shots eventually found their target.

He swiftly holstered the shotgun, knowing that it was now empty and in need of a reload that he didn’t have the time for. He pulled one of his revolvers free and opened fire at the remaining riders with an expression of grim determination plastered across his features.



“Shitty fuck!” cursed Freya as she yanked on the reigns and intense pain again blossomed through her left side.

Doubling over she was glad that her Finn had just arrived and was in the process of ridding them of their pursuers. He did always seem to have a knack for useful timing she mused briefly to herself.

Turning she spared a glance behind her at the pursuers, spotting their numbers beginning to fall she turned her attention away from the road before them and took aim at the nearest rider with her revolver. Moments later she fired a single shot which despite the impressive distance buried itself in the rider who tumbled from his horse.

One of the man’s feet caught in his stirrups, causing him to be dragged behind unceremoniously, a few pained screeches being heard before he fell silent.

Moments later the remaining riders veered from the road and began swiftly galloping away.

Standing in the seat Freya fired another round towards the men, her teeth gritted in pain as she did.

“Fuck” she barked as she missed, none of the riders fell from their saddles and she dejectedly fell back into the seat as a wave of wooziness overtook her.

“I never miss…” she mouthed to herself silently with a sullen expression.



As the last of the attackers turned to flee with their tails between their legs, Finn decided not to pursue them and turned back to the carriage which was now coming to a stop.

Freya lowered herself from the drivers seat as the rear door opened and out stepped a rather distressed looking Gerardo Gonzailez.

“Jesucristo that was insane!” He exclaimed turning his attention to Freya with a worried glance towards Finn who remained in the saddle with his gun in hand “and you, whomever you are, you have our thanks!”

Finn simply stared silently at him with what could be described as a bemused expression. He watched as Freya took a few steps towards him and pressed herself against the Mexican in an embrace. Gerardo looked pleasantly surprised for a brief moment before she jammed the barrel of her revolver into his large gut and fired her last shot into the man.

He crumpled to the ground writhing and screeching in Mexican as he clutched at the new wound.

“That’s for being a filthy piece of shit” she spat before she planted the most powerful kick she could manage into his crotch “and that’s for the girl you raped. Now enjoy bleeding to death in this shit hole of a country Mr Gonzailez!”

She looked like she was about to leave him to his fate when she turned back and with much gusto spat a huge glob of phlegm into the man’s face with a snort.

Turning away her eyes settled on briefly on Finn before moving to the carriage - and more importantly on the chest loaded in the small rear compartment and whatever goodies may be within. She took a few steps forwards before she felt another wave of wooziness and suddenly she crumpled to the ground.

Location: To Armadillo!

Interactions: @Sly

'Someone threw dynamite? Really?!' Nora chided herself on her borderline idiotic dramatics as she sped away on her horse- yet keeping a distance to allow the fool to catch up behind her. The only thing she could think of was the trail ahead- and the piercing shrills of lawmen's whistles didn't help ease her mind about the additional counts of manslaughter she racked up, just to save a deadbeat gambler. At this rate, the sheer accumulations of wanted posters across the various towns in the state of Lemoneye would surely attract trouble of a non-governmental nature, that of which she was sure of. Reflexivley moving her left hand up to cradle the stolen papers nestled inside her field satchel, she breathed a relieved sigh. This was good, and she had what she came for despite the trouble. Nora gradually slowed down as the whistles got quieter and faded into the background, and she finally stopped to let the man she'd saved catch up to her. Glancing ahead of her, she realized that she was now in quite an alien bit of land. Beige-white ground stretched for miles across a clear blue sky, and the temperature notably spiked upward as well. She'd never left the State of Lemoneye before today, and she almost considered turning back despite facing the lawmen of Blackwater. Glancing back behind her, she was reminded of why she was here by the sight of the man heading toward her. Once he was within hearing distance, she spoke up with a thick North-Dakotan accent. "Would ya mind tellin' me what that was all about, mister?"

Draven eyed the man. He was clearly leading his question, beckoning a name.

"And say you find 'em. What's a man like you going to do to the Melbattons?" He began rolling his emptied glass on the table. There was no real purpose behind it. It just kept his hands busy while he tried to read this stranger. It looked like the man was about to speak, but Draven felt inclined to interrupt. "It's Draven," he said finally. "Or Jackson or Brock or even Peter, if I'm feeling particularly saintlike." He'd hoped the point was made. "You need a favor, that much is clear. A direction at the very least, ya? I like doin' favors, mister, but that's the thing about scratching other peoples' back. It doesn't do much for my own itch."

Draven wasn't looking for a vigilante. This man was waving around a poster of guilty men, hard pressed to bring justice to them. Or perhaps revenge. Draven was hoping for the latter. Dirty people tend to be more comfortable around other dirty people. Draven was looking for the dirt.

"Your business is yours," he continued. "I won't press ya for the details. Tell me this, though: How many men have you killed?"



Seven squished the lemonade in her mouth before swallowing. On her next drink, she chugged it down until the glass was empty. She was listening to the men converse but it was hardly holding her attention. She'd heard all of this before. Instead of sitting by, she stood from the table and took her empty glass back to the bar and sit it down. Turning, she leaned back against the counter facing the common area of the saloon.

In one of the far tables were two men sitting across from eachother. There was coin on the tabletop between them. One of the men laid his hand down flat, his fingers splayed, and pulled out a sizable knife before he began tapping the pointed end between each finger. He started slowly at first, but picked up speed with each round. His companion looked on with wide eyes and eager anticipation.

Seven rolled her eyes. Who goes to get drunk at a saloon gamble over whether or not they were going to mutilate themselves? "Idiots," she said out loud, rolling her eyes. Those two clearly weren't fit for recruitment.

West Elizabeth
Tall Trees
Pacific Union Railroad Camp

Transitioned to...

New Austin
Cholla Springs
Armadillo - At Twilight

The journey was an uncomfortable one for the fugitive named Hubbard. His leg felt like it had been broken but there was no bone poking through. Savage didn't seem much concerned about it. Then again, Savage didn't seem overly concerned about much. They talked little during the ride to the Union Pacific cam,p. Eventually they did arrive to the small collection of wooden buildings.

A few people eyed Savage warily as they rode in. One of them, a deputy, touched the brim of his hat and called out to him.

"Looking worse for wear. Old man give you some trouble?"

Savage didn't like to advertise his weakness but there was a clear hole in each sleeve and a small but ragged tear on the back of his duster.

"Damn near had to break his leg to get him to come along," Savage called back, smiling. "He's wily for an old guy."

"What happened to the others?"

"What others?"

At this point, the deputy began to walk to keep up with them. Savage squinted for a moment then turned to smile back at him.

"Four of you went out to get him. Where are the other three?"

Savage shrugged then said, "Do you remember what happened to them, Hubbard?"

The fugitive tensed up and took in a breath. He looked at Savage then lowered his eyes, not meeting the law man's gaze. After a moment, he said, "We got ambushed on the way out... When the others went down, he got me on a horse and we got away together."

"Oh yeah," the deputy said, raising an eyebrow. "How come he was the only one able to get away, huh?"

"I don't know," Hubbard snapped. "Got my horse shot out from under me twice! Broke my damn leg in the fall. I'm just happy to be alive."

"Leave him alone," Savage warned. "He's mine until I turn him in."

"Sure," the Deputy said, shaking his head. It wasn't clear if he bought Hubbard's story or not. "So, where did you guys find him?" Hubbard glanced nervously at Savage.

"Tall Trees... on his way North toward Strawberry. Said he was going home." Hubbard relaxed and lowered his head again. "See you later, Deputy."

The lawman smirked and shook his head. He stopped following them, though. Not long after that, Savage dismounted and tied up the horses by a trough of water. He helped Hubbard down and, while keeping a firm hold on his still bound hands, helped him to walk to their destination. The fugitive seemed surprised when they turned away from the little building the Sherif was using as a base.

"It's been a long ride," Savage said, a sly smile on his face. "Now it's time to scratch your back a little before turning you over."

This confused and intrigued the man long enough for them to reach the back of a different building. By then, he seemed to realize something was really wrong.

"Hey, wait... This is-"

"Relax," Savage said before knocking hard on the door. When it opened, the man that they saw made the old fugitive yell out and try to pull away. Savage chuckled and held him fast until a burly fellow came out of the buliding, grabbed Hubbard and slammed him against the wall. He shut the man up with a hand against his mouth.

"Oh, I've waited for this," said the first man they saw, an older gentleman who very clearly worked for the rail company. "Take him inside."

"Hold on there," Savage snapped, hand reaching reflexively for his gun. "You're not abiding the deal." For a moment, the three men near him froze and tensed, ready for the dramatic twist. "Payment first."

The old man laughed and said, "Wait right here." He stepped into the building and, after a moment, returned with a roll of bills fresh from the mint. He handed it to Savage and asked, "Satisfied?"

Savage nodded to the man and slipped the money into an inner pocket on his duster then turned to leave. Hubbard tried to yell hateful things at his back but his voice was muffled. He vanished into the building a moment later.

On his way back to the main road, intent on having something to drink and eat and finding a place to rest, he saw the deputy standing by his horse. The sherif was standing at the other side of the road, just watching them.

"Where'd Hubbard go?"

"Who," Savage said, turning instead to untie then mount his own horse.

"Don't play games with me, son. What did you do with him?"

"We're not related."

"Where is he?"

"Resting."

By now, the deputy was once again walking to keep up with him.

"And just where are you going?"

"Am I under arrest?"

"That depends on how you answer me. Hold up!"

"No. I'm under arrest or I'm not. I don't feel like talking now."

"H-hey! Stop, I said-"

"See you around!"

The deputy continued to yell into his dust as Savage rode away at a stiff pace, making for the river crossing. He was in a bit of a bad mood. His arm still hurt and he needed more provisions but the lawmen were getting too nosey for his liking. So he would make for a place where people didn't ask so many questions.

He made a stop at MacFarlane's ranch and bartered for a night of rest, supplies and care for his horse. He was tempted to pay for two nights but his instincts told him to ride on a bit farther. If he wasn't in such a need for supplies he would have rode wide around the ranch so as not to leave so much of a trail. Nothing really happened and in the morning he set off into the desert.

Night was fast approaching by the time he saw the dusty boomtown of Armadillo. Just before that, however, he heard the report of gunfire. This earned a soft 'hum' from him. The town never seemed to change. The sun would be just about to set by the time he made it to the town proper, which was fine for him. The fading light did funny things to people's eyes. Hopefully he would be seen as just another nobody drifting in on the winds. Of course, he would be angling for the saloon once he dismounted...

Interactions: @DisturbedSpec

James could see that the women had stopped not that far up ahead from him. Coming up beside her she didn't look too pleased with the whole situation and the events that had just occurred outside the bar. After hearing her question James gave her a smile and scratched his head a bit. “Well let's just say that the O'driscolls are not the biggest fans of me it would seem.” looking back towards the city it seemed as though they had lost their pursuers for the time being. “Well, I do believe I owe you thanks and a debt for saving my arse back there. Was not sure how I was gonna get out of that one.” he eyed her carefully not quite sure what to make of her. She could handle herself that much was sure, but he was confused as to why she would help him. Not that he didn't trust her, she didn't give him the vibe of being a snake but that could also be because he was a sucker for a pretty face. Tipping his hat slightly to the woman he introduced himself “Names James by the way. James Kelly. And what, if I may ask, should I call you Ma'am.”

Location: Outskirts of Armadillo

Interactions: @Sly

After a long pause of equally staring back at James as she listened to the man speak, she tipped her hat back and lifted her head up; comfortable enough not to suspect the threat of hostile gunfire. She raised her eyebrow slightly upon hearing that he somehow made it onto the O'Driscoll Shit-List. When James concluded his speech, Nora nodded coolly and spoke up. "....Welcome, James. The name's Nora, Nora Quintin. Now, Mister Kelly- mind givin' me an explanation on what the O'Driscolls have on you? I hadn't met you 'til just now, and that's the only thing we have that shares some common ground." Butch puffed lightly, and Nora reached into her satchel before digging out a horse apple as she leaned down and fed the fruit to him. The sun was beating down hard and beginning to get under her skin as she lightly squirmed to adjust herself on the saddle. "Ride with me, we're better off out of this heat." As she moved to start her pace down the trail toward Armadillo, she couldn't help but have a strange sense of unease about this new, alien landscape before her. As for the man she rescued, James, it was a different case entirely. She'd been no stranger to helping people in need during her time with Felix, but there were times where they'd have to turn those people away when they wanted to stay with the duo.

From what she could observe in the first few minutes of their interaction, it was obvious James was a rabble-rousing, gambling cardshark who clearly knows how to cause chaos, but has trouble avoiding the fallout. The man pissed off the O'Driscolls somehow, and that made her mission a helluva lot worse if she decided to let him tag along with her. Yet, Felix wasn't with her. He couldn't shut her down and turn him away. Perhaps it was worth finally knowing what it was like to work with someone else, even if she preferred to operate on her own.

"What I'll do when I find them?" Erik posed the question back at the mysterious figure of a man, tasting those words he so many times felt at the tip of his tounge, yet having snatched out of his reach even more. Erik fiddled with his new glass of booze around in his hand, pushing it back and forth the table as he answered the man. "What I want to do, you can't pin a single word on it. Not in my experience, so many different people seeing it differntly. You'd might call it a turkey shoot, someone else calls it murder. Me? I call it revenge." Erik gave his answer, taking a sip of his glass and looking back and forth the two called Draven and Seven.

"That's what I intend to do. Mr. Draven, I prefer that. I have a score to settle with them and their main guy, mean Son of the Devil he is. A farm and family as a matter of fact. My farm, my family." Was this what Erik needed to tell him in order to get information? It wasn't a sob-story, there wasn't a trace of sadness in Erik's voice as he told his brief tale. That had long since vanished alongside his youth and innocence. Now it had become a part of him, his work.

A favour? Yeah, Erik was good at favours, if it helped him catch those sons of bitches he was after. Taking another sip of his drink, focusing on Draven as he drowned out the rest of the saloon, he could only smirk and chuckle at Draven's last question. "If killin's the favour you're asking for, Mr. Draven, that won't be much of a problem. Many, is my answer. Hurt even more than that, but only those that deserved it. If by God Almighty they were judged, many folks out there and myself saw them dead as just punishment. There have been many, I stopped counting once I realized the count wouldn't get me closer to the Melbattons. But I'm sure there will be more, if that answers your question?"

Erik leaned back in his chair, hearing his own words echo through his mind as he had spoken them to the man. If the blondie had such words spoken around him before he lost everything, he'd think that man was as wicked as the Devil himself, or worse. But now those words carried experience and sorrow few could comprehend, which Erik could. An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Fight fire with fire, and sinners with sins. "What do you need done, Mr. Draven, for a favour?"

James gave the women a healthy grin and a small chuckle. “Well, it would seem that some men are just sore losers when it comes to a fair game of cards. Can hardly blame me for being so good at it.” he paused for a second looking out over the vast horizon. It was quite beautiful he had to admit if it wasn't for all the damn heat. Patting Iris on the side of the neck he moved his head back when he heard Nora tell him to ride with her. Giving her a nod he slowly began to ride alongside her into the vast desert for a short time before he turned to her.

“We’d better set up camp here before that sun drops. Getts cold as hell out here at night.” pulling his horse a short distance off the main road he finally stopped when he came to a flat area mostly devoid of plants that seemed to work well. Hopping off his horse he searched through his pack looking for the various camping supplies he used on his travels. As he walked back to the center of the dirt patch with some sticks he asked without looking at her. “What's a beautiful woman such as yourself have to do to get on the bad side of old O'driscolls, boys?” he waited for her response as he continued to build up the fire for them.

Location: Outskirts of Armadillo

Interactions: @Sly

The man couldn't keep his mouth to himself, it seemed. "In my twelve years of bein' in Saloons across the province, I've never seen a card game resort in someone nearly gettin' killed over it. First time for everythin', I suppose." She shrugged. As Nora pitched in and helped gather kindle and assisted with the rock foundation, she rolled her eyes as James once again slyly attempted flirting with her. She let the question hang in the air about her involvement with the O'Driscolls, before letting out a slow sigh. "Cornwall pulled a dirty trick and signed on the O'Driscolls as his own hired security force. I don't know much more beyond the extent of their partnership, but it appears to me it's out of desperation and business. So I figured I'd get back at 'em. Cornwall, personally, but these damned thugs are in the way of things." Nora kept it brief, and her emotions leveled as she spoke. For the mean time, she'd see if James was really on-board before she'd tell him he truth.

Nora finished layering the kindle along the inside of the fire pit, before moving back to her field satchel and retrieving a matchbook. Damn pack was a hundred bucks, but she was glad for the hefty investment. Alongside retrieving the matches and opening the book, she used her other hand to pull out the stack of papers and briefly present it out to James. "Fore we met today, I'd raided a Cornwall train. Got a tip from one of the stationmen that this particular train carried a vital document for Cornwall's expansion into Saint Denis. I was gonna find something to do with it before I suddenly had to save your ass." Nora let out a small huff of amusement. "However, I'm glad I was able to. Wasn't gonna let those bastards waste someone in front of me."

Interactions @DisturbedSpec

After the fire had been started James took his seat by it leaning up against a rock using it as a sort of chair. He listened intently to what Nora had to say. He himself was not a big fan of Cornwall but then again, neither was most of the west. The first part of her tale about how he had wormed his way into the town and bought himself a small army sounded similar to that of other stories he had heard about the man and others like him. In truth, it pissed him off to no end what happened to people like him and Nora it seemed. The poor man always being pushed around by those who sat atop a gold throne. What surprised him most was the fact that it appeared that she had been at war with the man by herself for some time, going so far as to rob a train.

“Well I'm glad that you have a conscious in you. Not many do anymore it seems.” he paused as he looked down at his hand to see himself rolling his gold coin across his fingers out of habit once again. Looking back up he continued. “I must say that is one impressive feat, taking on a whole train like that by yourself.” he studied her for a moment trying to see if she showed any signs of lying about doing it alone but either he had lost his touch or she was much more skilled than he had once thought. Looking up into the now dark sky he cursed himself thinking 'oh what I will do for a pretty face.' settling his gaze back onto Nora he took a moment thinking over what he was gonna say. “Well, I do believe I found how I can repay you. I'm not exactly the biggest fan of Cornwall or his associates and while it appears you don't need it I'm sure other hands never hurt.” he paused for a second turning his gaze to his coin before continuing “If you would allow I would love to accompany you on your war against this man who wronged you.” as he finished he snatched the coin in his hand and turned to look at Nora waiting for her response.

Location: Outskirts of Armadillo

Interactions: @Sly

As the sun set over the horizon, Nora listened intently to what James had to say, and already had the answer to his offer. "I'm not gonna save someone and just bolt away after- it would only be the right thing to accept your invitation for assistance, Mister Kelly. I think we'd have an easier time taking down Cornwall and his thugs. Plus, it's gotten kinda lonesome bein' a nomad." Nora flashed a genuine grin to James as Butch laid down beside her. She looked over and reached to undo her bedroll from the back of the saddle, patting her horse along the side of his neck. Unfurling the wool roll and laying it on the ground, she sighed. "For now, I'd suggest we get some shut-eye. Any suggestions for where to head now? Do you know this area we're in by chance?"

Interactions with @DisturbedSpec

James smiled at Nora accepting his offer to join her on her quest. 'this should be interesting.' he thought to himself as he watched her grab her bag and prepare for bed. "I spent a bit of time out here before so I don't know much about it other than there a small town called Armadillo not far from here." as he finished Iris came by and laid down right behind him allowing James to lean back against his horse. "it is an interesting little town that has lots of characters for sure. we best be careful of some of them ." he added before adjusting his hat so that it covered his face as he slowly let sleep take him as he calmly waited for the constant nightmares to take hold for what would surely be yet another restless night.