Can't think of any reason why they would be good at cards. Can't find where you listed their background items....
Looks like Ronnie wins the hand, quite easily. On your honor, the rest of the participants are in debt to him 'one dare,' which he may collect on at any point he wishes. The small lad makes a melodramatic display of frustration at losing, likely in the same manner he's seen other people lose their shirts in similar circumstances, but the wide grin on his face betrays the appreciation he has at simply being able to play.
-------------------------------------------
The train eases into Sisseton near midday, when the sun is high and even the modest breeze is thick and sweltering. The outpost--a single watertower jutting into the sky and casting the only shadow for miles around, a wooden storehouse with no door housing piles of coal, and a quaint house of brick as a humble dwelling--would have hardly registered if you blew past.
Those looking out the windows see a lanky gentleman, with faded overalls and long hair that he pulls back and under his cap while wiping perspiration from his face, approaches the engine with a tired reluctance. He carries two empty buckets with him, which then dangle right alongside the man's spindly legs as he departs a few minutes later.
News travels quickly that, though coal is readily available, the current drought has left the watertower high and dry. Your steam locomotive won't get very far on the depleted reservoir it has left. There's a flowing creek, down in nearby Sica Hollow, where the two men stationed here have been fetching buckets full of water every free chance they get. But it's slow going. You hear strange rumors as well, flitting amongst other passengers, that there's something sacred or mysterious about legends down in Sica Hollow, though the details are currently vague and varied.
Best guesstimates cast your departure a good day or two into the future, as it'll easily take that long before you can fill your tanks enough to make Brimstone. Gideon apologizes for the inconvenience, seeming quite exhausted not only by the trip but the continuing complications as well. At least, given the next 48 hours here at Sisseton, he'll have a chance to rest a bit.
Passengers, grumbling, begin to make themselves comfortable. Several take leave of the passenger cars and set up blankets or jackets in the stretching shade of the empty watertower, where they can read or play cards. Should this take as long as seems expected, you'll need to find a place to rest as well.
How do you all deal with another hiccup in this journey? What do you set out to do about it?
Edward has been spending this leg of the journey enjoying the gambling game, even though he lost. The only card game he played while working alone at the library was solitaire. He plans to honor his debt to Ronnie the Surveyor if Ronnie ever tries to collect - the librarian is a man of his word.
Myles was outside the passenger cars during the train's slow traveling, and he saw the lanky gentleman clearly, giving him an acknowledging nod that went unreturned. Once the train pulls into the station, he re-enters the train car and seeks out Diggory and Edward.
Diggory was inside too, not playing cards but listening to the rumors flowing into the train cars from the locals.
"I could use a chance to stretch my legs after that ride," he says, addressing nobody in particular as he stands up and dusts his britches off.
"I'm heading down the trail to Sica Hollow to visit the creek and get a pull of fresh water. Anyone who's interested in tall tales and ghost stories better come along - seems there's something mysterious about that area. Regardless, it's the best place to get water around, so it'll be good to wet your whistle, if nothing else. Who's with me?"
Ed and Myles quickly fall in behind the cowpoke. Diggory crosses his arms as his gaze travels over the other passengers, his eyes narrowing as he glances at Judge and his awkward new attire.
The Judge offers the lady his hand in friendship and says...
"No need to apologize ma'am. It was my pleasure to be in the company of such a class act as yourself. If there is ever anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask.
What do you think about checking around in here to see if anyone has left anything behind that they won't be needin? I wouldn't mind a chance to spend some time with you away from pryin eyes even if this isn't the most romantic of settings...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ronnie and Henry grab their shotguns and some buckets and join the others to go get water and learn about the mystery of Sica Hollow.
Diggory, Ed, Myles, Ronnie and Henry are all greeted with an overwhelming expression of relief at they approach Jed (the lanky one who approached the train earlier with the buckets). He explains that while it was outside his bounds to ask any of the patrons for help, he was very keen on finding some volunteers.
One of the two, between Jed and the other employee Rutledge, needed to remain at the outpost, while the other traipsed down to the creek in the hollow--a good 2 mile hike into the rough terrain jutting up from the otherwise featureless prarie. "If each've ya could bring a pair of buckets yerselves, this whole ordeal could go right quick!" he exclaims. "Shoot, we could probably do it in just a couple trips. Maybe even one if you can find a handful more--three or four others?"
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"Call me Jess," the young woman replies to the judge, still shrinking a bit in her poorly tailored suit. [b]"Though I guess I should be going as 'The Great Santini' now... it just doesn't sound very friendly in casual company."
Suddenly she blushes, bright enough that even in the meager light blaring in from the open door you can see it. [b]"Not that this is casual, er. It just doesn't seem professional I mean. Well, I mean, I'm not doing my show."
The judge smiles and takes her hand "Jess, the Great Santini" it is. Very pleased to make your acquaintance. Everyone just calls me Judge or Judge Cartwright if you're being professional. But since this isn't casual or professional what should we call it? I hesitate to call it a date. Who takes their date to a rail car full of dead men?
The Judge laughs nervously....
"Who are we kidding? This place is crazy. Let's enjoy each others company for a few minutes before the craziness starts again...
______________________________________________________________
Henry and Ronnie grab a pair of buckets each and follow the other men down to the river.
"Eh, we don't need any more than what we got," says Diggory in a show of bravado. "I can carry all we'll need on my back for you ladies."
Edward looks a lot less certain than Diggory does that they don't need any additional help, but he doesn't speak up; Diggory tends to "take all the air out of the room." Myles' face is still stony and stoic.
They set off toward the gulch.
Roy regards the woman with cold eyes. He only stares at her for a time, but eventually, he stands. "I saved your life. Repay it by proving I didn't waste my effort. Live well." He turns and walks toward the door, but pauses and looks back over his shoulder. "And welcome your husband back. He's a good man for giving you space."
- - - - -
At Sisseton, the three men exit with the other passengers, seeking what comfort can be found and a stretch of the legs. When a party starts to gather to fetch water from the gulch, Roy and Tekumsah step forward, more than willing to assist. After a moment, Spencer steps up as well, now clutching his camera equipment. "I don't know I could help carry much, but I'd love the chance to help if I can. And maybe get a picture of this gulch?"
Jess, the Great Santini, is absolutely fascinated with you, Judge. She's a little put off by the corpses and the lingering smell but she invites you, with a smirk, outside and to the caboose.
"I came back here when we were stuck after that horrid heist," she remarks as you pass the armored car near the back. "I suppose you were in that group that went to rescue our engineer? That seemed really brave of you all. This car is quite open, but it's shaded and allows a nice breeze." You can tell that she's trying hard to remain ladylike in all manners, to avoid any rumors amongst the other passengers. But indeed, she's quite interested in talking with you more. It's unusual to see a woman in a suit try to act demure and proper--comical even.
-----------------------------------------
Mrs. D'Marco reddens at Roy's remarks, but keeps her chin high. "Indeed," are her first words, more resolved than angry, "it's a valuable gift you have given us. And I shall tell my husband that you said as much." She offers you a warm smile, despite the mild reprimand, with a lingering look of longing before resuming her conversation with the other man who had remained idly by for the past few minutes.
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"Certainly!" Jed answers Spencer. "You'll love it down there!"
When Tekumsah volunteers, however, Jed is a bit more apprehensive. He ignores the native at first, as if he didn't hear anything he said, and there's some serious hesitance before he finally gets him a bucket. Jed is clearly uncomfortable making eye contact, as he adverts his gaze whenever Tekumsah catches it, but it often returns when he thinks you aren't watching.
The trip itself to Sica Hollow is pleasant and uneventful. Jed's spirits are raised by your assistance and he talks with Diggory most of the way. He mentions how Sioux attacks have been increasing lately, and if you just wait somewhere long enough you're bound to have a run-in. The story is only told after Jed looks around to make sure Tekumsah is distracted or further away, and the man will either slow down or speed up at points in an attempt to create that distance.
He and Rutledge have had to hunker down in their brick dwelling a couple times, but after a more recent raid they found that the raiders gave Sica Hollow I wide berth. "Not sure why, but ever since, if we get wind that another raid may be coming, we've high tailed it down here. They won't follow none, even if they see you. I don't see why though. It's a nice place."
Those last words are accompanied by a quizical glance toward Tekumsah, seemingly involuntarily.
Sure enough, as you leave the flatland and begin to hike down among the trees, the surroundings are quite dark and cool, but eerie. You don't hear any birds or other wildlife, and the sweltering breeze is entirely blocked as you descend. You can smell the pines surrounding you. A twig snaps somewhere in the thick brush to your right, followed by what sounds like a few footsteps. But those of you that look don't see anything.
Jed chuckles. "Used to scare the tar out of me when first comin' down here. But never seen nothin. Don't bother me as much any more."
What do the rest of you do? How do you react?
Diggory is completely at ease out in the wild at night, he has spent many nights sleeping under the stars. Edward jumps at noises, looking skittish and trying not to voice his fears for fear of seeming craven. Myles has had personal encounters with the Sioux tribe in the past, though they weren't battles. He's scanning the trees as best he can, trying to see any movement of beast or man.
Diggory smirks. "Yeah, with the way these trees hug the skies at night I could see people's imaginations getting away with 'em. Still, I doubt any local beastie would give us trouble, we're too many to bother with for most. And if the tribes decide to show up, we've got an answer for them too. C'mon, I see the water up ahead. Let's move!" he takes point as they approach the valley through the upcoming trees. Myles is right behind him, but Edward hangs back near Jed.
Tekumsah shrugs off Jed's odd looks, and he lingers back once he realizes the man is telling a story and doesn't want him to hear. He does catch most of the tale, though, and scowls at the clear implication Jed gives. I'm no Sioux. The Comanche aren't afraid of landmarks.
Spencer jumps at the sound, and he nearly drops his camera gear. Roy also reacts, one hand dropping to the pommel of his knife. But neither of them see anything, so they keep moving on... although Roy remains wary, and he shifts his bucket to his off hand, ready to grab a weapon if any trouble starts up.
Henry and Ronnie have some twine tied around their shotguns and have them slung over their shoulders. The buckets they are carrying make a lot of noise but there is no easy way to carry them. Both men look nervous but listen to Jed and try to remain calm while following along...for now.
__________________________________________________________________
Judge is happy to escort Jess to the Caboose, on the way he looks for some refreshments. Either a flask or canteen on one of the dead or in a car that they pass.
"A breeze would be welcome but I must say Jess the Great Santini, that meeting you has been as enjoyable as a refreshing spring zephyr." he says and offers her his hand to assist her up the stairs into the rear car.
Eventually the thick foliage opens up to the creek that winds its way through the hollow. The cool water babbles and sloshes as it rushes over smooth stones and swirls in small pools. It's incredibly clear, as you can see straight to the creek bed despite almost three feet of rushing water at its depth.
Do you drink it?
Jed is content to quickly begin filling his buckets, taking a knee beside the bank and dipping them into one of the side pools.
As your own buckets are nearly full, and the thought of hiking out bearing their weight is likely weighing on your mind, a gruff voice barks out from the brush just up stream. "Who the hell gave you permission to take my water?!"
A rather robust prospector steps out into the clearing, with both barrels of his shotgun leveled at the nearest of your company. The gun is merely inches from Henry's face--close enough to smell the powder and barrel oil. The prospector has a chest like a whiskey barrel, a fiery red beard that hangs nearly to his belt, and the steely stare of one that has no problem dumping your lifeless bodies out where the buzzards can have their fill.
His brow furrows beneath a ragged cap as his heavy-laden mule emerges lazily behind him. "My creek, and my laws, the way I sees it. And I don't take kindly to theft."
You get that same uneasy feeling you had when you first entered the hollow and heard the distant footfall.
What do you do?
Roy is content to dip his bucket in the water, and Spencer stands by, starting to set up his camera to get a picture of this incredible creek, and the men drawing water from it. Tekumsah, though, is a little more wary of this sort of thing--the tribes have faced bad water before, and although this water is mostly for the train, the passengers will need to drink something sooner or later. Better to try it now, so he laves a handful up and tastes it, swirling it around his mouth and only swallowing if it seems safe.
When the prospector arrives, Spencer is taken aback, and he steps back, freezing up. The only move he makes is a glance toward the pistol on his hip. Tekumsah stays still as well, not wanting to make any moves against this strange new arrival. There's something not quite right, here.
Roy isn't one to be so cowed, though. He calmly and boldly sets his bucket down and regards the man. "What right makes this your creek? Nobody's creek, no laws, the way I see it. And I don't take kindly to threats."
The Scotsman doesn't make the first move, but if the prospector so much as shifts the shotgun his way, he'll draw his gun and fire. Roy isn't one to suffer fools longer than he has to, and he's not the type to let some blowhard get between him and the train, either.
Henry goes pale in the face, lets his buckets fall and drops to his knees. He folds his hands and begins to wimper, grovel and beg.
"Please mister, don't kill me..."
From behind him and slightly off to the side Ronnie takes a different tone. Having been a surveyor most of his adult life and dealing with property owners.....
The way I see it partner. You might get real lucky and kill one, maybe two, of us. The other ten's gonna blow you to hell and toss what's left of yer carcass into your little creek here. We'll take yer claim and yer mule and no one will know the wiser. So, why don't you mosey on somewhere else. We're grabbing water for the train and will be gone in a few minutes to leave you in peace.
Tekumsah, the water is shockingly refreshing. The unanticipated chill causes your teeth to sting as if you were drinking straight from a glacial runoff at the first glimpse of spring.
------------------------
The barrel-chested prospector roars a gutteral, growling laugh from deep in his chest beneath that fiery beard. "Don't be mistaken. I'm not debatin with you fools, I'm statin' law. And I wouldn't back down from that if there were a hundred of ya. So you tell me when I've chopped enough of you down for you to rethink that math of yours." The shotgun, so near to Henry's pleading skull, swings quickly toward Ronnie--the latest voice in the argument--but Roy seems to move just as quickly.
In a second, Roy's pistol leaps to his hands and the trickling of nearby creek and the echo of the prospector's laughter is shatter by the resounding blast. It's immediately followed by the ringing, almost melodious tang of a ricochet. The red-haired prospector had turned quickly to present a tighter target, and the bullet had to settle for one of the metal buttons on his leather jacket rather than his heart.
With an energized whoop, the prospector unloads both barrels on the Scottish traveller instead. This peculiar hollow that once seemed uncomfortably silent is alight now with the reverberating blasts.
The shot isn't a great one, but two barrels don't have to be precise. The man who this far has seemed unstoppable, finally finds a force that can halt his tide of revenge. At least the rest of you can take a part of him with you in a very literal sense as your painted with bits of his flesh.
Still with a growling laugh on his lips, the man snaps open his shotgun at the breech with a flip of the wrist and plunges his other hand deep into his jacket for another pair of rounds. He doesn't seem to be ducking for cover.
"There's my 'lucky one,'" he calls, "Just like ya predicted."
-----------------------
This round...
Henry grabs two handfuls of dirt and throws them into the face of the Prospector then grabs for the man's feet.
Ronnie shouts "pile on" and charges the red-haired demon trying to knock him into the water.
Dirt and debris fly up into the air as Henry tries to create an advantage, but the cloud is caught in a breeze that none of you feel, and most of what Henry was able to fling fills his own nostrils and eyes. The sting blinds him for the moment and chokes his lungs.
Ronnie's charge seems much more effective as he barrels into the prospector, launching both into the stream. It's a solid tackle from a respectably-sized man, but even that isn't enough to topple your adversary from his feet. Both of you are about knee high in frigid water, however.
As the Scotsman's spattered corpse tumbles backward, Spencer lets out a shriek and draws his pistol. With surprising speed he brings it up and fires at the prospector, hoping another shot might put him down this time.
As that clears, Tekumsah barrels forward, joining Ronnie in the attempt to bowl the man over and into the stream.
On Henry's init, he puts the Shotgun down, then dives into the stream in order to clear his eyes.
Ronnie will do his best just to hang on to the big man until help arrives to subdue him or drown him since he seems impervious to gunfire.
At Ronnie's shout, Diggory lets out a wild war whoop of his own and lets have at the stranger with both barrels of his boomstick.
Following suit, Myles unloads with his pistol immediately after. He has to nudge Edward out of his initial shock to do so, but eventually they're both firing at the man who is apparently too badass for cover. We'll see how many pistol rounds will change his mind...
Myles' shot plunges into the water at the prospector's feet, spraying water and smooth stone in an arch behind him. Edward's shot, however, catches Ronnie in the back--piercing his lungs and blasting through the other side a mere inches from the bearded man he's wrestling.
Tekumsah immediately follows the shot, taking up Ronnie's position and driving the prospector even further into the creek. The water is up to each of your waists now, but still the man won't fall, even under the driving force of his native assailant.
With a shriek, Spencer the photographer fires his own pistol. The shot seems true, but is caught in Ronnie's collapsing body before it can reach the true target. The surveyor's body plunges beneath the waters before surfacing a foot or two further downstream, face down and lifeless.
Amidst the continuous pistol fire, Diggory's shotgun blast registers several decibels louder, ringing in everyone's ears as both barrels ignite.
This time it's the native who takes the brunt of the blast. Tekumsah's arm and ribcage are torn apart as both shells rip into him. He is blown past the prospector and up stream, where his lifeless body will likely follow Ronnie's, though a few feet behind.
Henry clears his eyes quickly, and surfaces from the water just in time to see Tekumsah's body approaching. Thought the sand may be cleared, Henry's face and clothes drip with the crimson blood that is rapidly filling this once crystal clear stream.
"Just six of you now!" the man bellows beneath his fiery beard, waist deep in the creek. He then continues to load both barrels of his own shotgun as if the two tacklers that rushed him only seconds before hadn't fazed him in the least. "Still refuse to recognize what's mine? Or perhaps you still think that you make the rules?"
"There's witchcraft here! I'm fallin back!" Diggory shouts, abandoning his position and fleeing. Edward's mortified by the fact that Ronnie and Tekumsah were slain; seeing such a big and intimidating figure blown apart like that rattled him to his core. He's immediately in Diggory's footsteps.
Myles steps forward, and throws down his gun. "Let me gather the bodies of the slain, and we'll leave!" he shouts at the weird prospector. He's eyeing the bodies in the stream, trying to make sure they don't float too far away.
Henry graps the dead hand of his friend and says "Goodbye"
He then sits on the edge of the creek with his hands up and says...
"Whatever you want...you murdering son of a b$!&+. How was we to know that yer the devil? But do me a favor. Put a hole in that bastard that shot Ronnie in the back."
The formidable prospector lowers his loaded shotgun a bit, and begins trudging out of the stream -- two of the men before him taking flight and two others in submission.
"There we go," he barks, giving his mule a quick scratch behind the ears now that he's clear of the stream. "Can't rightly say I'm the devil, but don't mind the title. And you can take your men. They died with weapons in hand, which is an honorable way to go."
He turns to Henry as the grieving man makes his request. "Can't say I know which one's Ronnie, though I'm bettin' he's not the skraeling. Nor did I rightly see who made the shot as the man had me a bit distracted himself. But if whoever did it still has an itchy finger, you may get what you ask for. Otherwise, you'd best gather your fallen and go." Then, as if remembering something, a smile creeps across his face beneath that fiery beard. "You wanted some of my water though, since you sure brought a lot of buckets. What would you say if I'd let you have some if you can beat me in a hand?"
He rolls up his jacket sleeves, revealing arms tattooed with runes likely unfamiliar, then reaches into one of the mule's pouches and pulls out a faded deck of cards. "I got no hard feelings, and this may quell some of your own. One of you beats me and you can take your water as well as your friends. And before one of you tries to argue that you've already paid enough, these lives paid for your lesson. You haven't earned my water yet."
"And if you all lose, you bring someone else back here. Someone I haven't met yet. They'll stay as your wager."
"Who the hell are you then if you're not the devil. No bullet can hurt you what makes you think I have a snowballs chance to beat you in a hand of cards?
I don't know no body else like I did Ronnie. You wanna keep one of those that run off, be my guest. You can keep your water for all I care and doom a whole train to die you murdering bastard. If you don't want nothing else, I'll be leav'n too."
Henry gets up to leave.....
Spencer stands very still as the fight abruptly ends. He stares aghast at the results of the violence: three shot-riddled corpses, and as some of the others start talking with the strange bearded man, his eyes drop to the pistol in his hand. The speed of the conflict was staggering, but he didn't miss entirely where his bullet may have gone. Even if he's sure Ronnie was already dead by the time he fired, Spencer feels ill at the turn of events, and he slips the pistol back into its holster before his hands start to tremble too much.
When the prospector makes his wager, though, the photographer's eyes shoot up. The group does need that water, and desperately. Spencer hasn't played cards with great frequency, but he knows the basics from his youth and some of his clients. There's blood on his hands, and he may not have been able to make too much of a difference so far... but he can try.
"I"ll play you," he says. His voice is soft at first, perhaps only barely audible over the stream, but then he steps forward. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, and he forces his head up high. "I'll play a hand." He glances at the others and nudges his head toward the water. "We can't go back dry. We have to try what we can... Don't we?"
Whenever the prospector agrees and deals the cards, Spencer does what he can...
...but he isn't a great card sharp.
As the rest leave, gathering the bodies of their comrades, you remain for a moment and try a few hands. You get the sense, after the first two hands, that Red starts to take it easier on you--yet you're still unable to win a single round. By time he seems satisfied, the others seem to have left (or at least begun their trek back).
The prospector smiles and rises slowly to his feet, accompanied by the cracking of old joints. "You played well," he lies. "I don't blame the others for wanting out. You were bold to stay however. You can take your water. I've made my point. And I don't want anyone else from your group. I think I know what I'm after now..."
With that, he whistles for his mule and trudges his way back into the underbrush.
Even as you trek out of the hollow you continue to hear footsteps around you, though you never see anything following. You can understand why some would steer clear of this place, and lament the loss of those that paid the ultimate price for that lesson.
Ed and Myles were already standing by to grab the bodies and heft them home, and with a little bit of hollering they're able to get Diggory to come back and grab one out of the river too. Once they've shouldered the bodies fireman style, they begin trudging back out of the hollow. Diggory in particular looks angered.
"What the hell kind of sorcery lets a man shrug off bullets like that?" he demands, asking no one in specific as he grunts under the burden of Tekumsah's enormous body.