Welcome to the Wild West!
Copperpoint. A small town, but full of activity. Local cattle ranches and nearby copper mines keep plenty of money coming in. You have travelled far to find yourself here, and have taken a room at the local hotel and saloon, the Silver Spur Hotel. In addition to other hotel guests, a number of regulars like to sit and socialize, having a drink or playing poker.
Dottie McGee, a handsome woman with a quick wit and calm temper, runs the place. Anything you need, you ask Dottie and she will try to accomodate you.
Once you are settled in, have a seat, order a drink, and maybe make a few friends.
Antonio spots Dottie right away. "Ah, mi guapa, it does not take a native of this industrious town to see that you are the mind behind this fair place. My name is Antonio Santa Cruz Polanco, newly in town and desiring of strong drink. Would you happen to have tequila? It surely does make me homesick, but nothing quite tastes as good."
The tall dark stranger rides slowly into Copperpoint on back of a stout mule, a cigarillo clenched between his teeth as he takes a long look around. Spotting the Silver Spur Hotel, the gunslinger clucks his tongue and nudges the animal toward the stables and dismounts, an awkward task for his lanky body.
Leading the mule into the wooden structure that smells of hay and animal waste, the gunslinger reaches into his pocket and tosses a few coins at the boy that greets him as he removes the cigarillo from his mouth. "Find mule here a stall for the night, and be sure to give him a good rubdown and some food, would ya? Been a long ride for both of us." His voice is rough and gravelly, but strangely pleasing to the ear. The stranger unfastens the saddlebags, leaving the care of the saddle to the stableboy, and slings the bag over one shoulder as he makes his way into the hotel.
Pausing at the threshold, the stranger gazes at the busy saloon through narrowed eyes for a moment, then wanders through the swinging door. Spotting a handsome woman behind the bar, the gunslinger catches her eye as speaks with a handsome fellow and indicates a table with a nod of his head, then speaks around the cigar still clenched between his teeth. "Glass o' whiskey. And whatever stew you have in the pot." Setting the bags down heavily on the floor under the table, he sits down at the table he'd motioned to and sits down, one hand reaching up to lower his wide-brimmed hat to tilt down over his eyes as though he plans to take a short nap.
Curly sits at his table to the side of the Silver Spur, sipping his whiskey and watching those around him. He's relaxed and alert and in no hurry. Eventually, seeing Angle Eyes enter and hearing the exchange, his drink done, he stands and walks over to the table and pulls out a chair without sitting down, calling out to the proprietress as she moves, "I'll have the same, Dottie, if it's no trouble." Looking directly at the gunslinger he asks, "Mind if I join you? Been a while since I've shared a meal, and you look like you've been on the trail a while. Could you use some conversation once you've gotten your chow?"
Alfonzo comes in with his doctor bag in one hand and his luggage in another. The trip was hard on the middle aged doctor and it shows. He sits down for a drink before checking in. "Please, I would just like some water ma'am. Grazie." He says to Dottie as he wipes sweat off his brow with a handkerchief.
"Sure thing, gentlemen. Belly up to the bar there, and have a snort or two." Pulling a few short classes out from under the bar, Dottie starts pouring from a brown bottle. It certainly smells like tequilla.
"Did you say 'water', mister? Well, whatever turns your crank, I guess. Ellie, go fetch me some water from the well. Be quick about it girl!"
While they wait for the younger girl to come back, Dottie starts wiping down the bar top. Then she motions for each of you to come over to a large round table.
"So, you all look to be new to town. Come here - this is my 'just in town' table. Why don't you tell me your story, and I'll pour you a few more, and then we'll see about getting you a good hot meal."
Curly nods and smiles as he heads to the indicated table, pulls out a chair and sits down. "Mighty kind of you, Dottie. I appreciate it. Name's Beauford, but most just call me Curly. My last paying gig back in Muleshoe ended a stretch ago, and I've been working my way west since. I might be passing through, but if there's the right kind of work to be done around here I might stay a while. Figured your establishment here would be the sort of place to start to sort out which of those it was going to be."
The gunslinger gives the garrulous man a silent nod, kicking out the seat opposite until the barkeep speaks up. Deciding not to turn down a few more drinks, he heaves himself to his feet and grabs up his saddlebag again, dropping it next to a chair and setting himself down next to it.
For the moment he keeps his thoughts - and words - to himself. Just gazes at each of the 'just in towners' in turn as they speak.
Booker yawned and stretched as he sat on the bed. He had felt lucky to find a room, he had been sure the hotel would have been full given the crowd gathered in the saloon. He was grateful for the bed, having been sleeping on the ground the last few nights. Getting up he crossed to the small mirror over the wash basin.
"Maybe I should clean myself up a little." He thought to himself as he tilted his head to one side then the other.
On the stand beside the bed rested his old Calvary pistol, within easy reach if he had needed it in the night. His rifle rested with his back in the corner behind the door. Out of sight of first glance around the room from the door.
After washing up and a little trimming with his knife Booker nodded to his reflection. "Now to find a little work so I can make a little money." A glance out the window told him he had slept later then he had wanted to. Setting his hat he strapped his gun belt on and headed down stairs to the bar.
His gaze sweeps those at the tables before he turns his attention to down the bar.
With a casual stride he approaches the bar and takes a stool. ”Miss Dottie, ma’am.” He smiles and addresses Dottie politely. ”A beer and some of whatever’s making that wonderful smell would be appreciated.”
After getting his beer and nods in thanks and takes a short draw from the bottle. ”Ah, thank you.” Setting the bottle down again he waits for Dottie to have a moment before catching her attention again. ”You hear everything going on in town.” He says with a knowing smile. ”Don’t suppose you heard of anyone needing a bit of a hand around these parts?”
"Well not much to say, I was a doctor in Santa Fe. Just looking for a bit of change from the hustle and bustle of the city. " No need to go into my woes on the first day He thinks to himself as he gulps down the water and asks for another glass.
You settle in, enjoying the comfort and small amount of socialization, and eventually it gets dark. For those interested, there is a dance hall a few doors down that has a little rowdier evening entertainment, but the hotel stays fairly calm most nights.
Dottie talks a little bit more about the town as she serves plates of beef stew and fresh baked bread. Room and the meals, including a couple of drinks, runs you about $2 per day.
"I don't know of anyone hiring right now, but this is a town of opportunities. If you are a hired gun, you might try talking to the stagecoach operator... he sometimes hires extra protection for VIPs or costly cargo. Train sometimes is looking for some extra protection, and Pinkerton just opened an office here in town, in the old barber shop down the street. Of course, if you are a loner or bounty hunter sort, you might try the Post Office to see what current warrants are out. Sure, the Sheriff will tell you too, but he likes to post 'em at the Post so as everyone can see the notices."
"Thanks for the information. I think I will just get rest and see what tomorrow brings." Dr. Alfonzo goes up to his room to settle in . This is a relaxing change from Santa Fe He thinks to himself as he enjoys the quiet atmosphere.
"As for myself, I, well, clearly come from the south. Not the South, capital-S, obviously, for I come from Mexico. I do hope my English passes, as it is not my native tongue. That said, my tongue is as for hire as my gun, if translation or diplomacy or other such ...oral arts be in need. But if men are measured by their gunplay, I shan't ...aim to disappoint."
Curly listens with interest as Dottie describes potential options for employment. He nods along as the list goes by, frowning slightly, but fleetingly as the new Pinkerton Office is mentioned. When she's finished and seems ready to head off he thanks her for the information. "I thank you kindly for both the excellent chow and the pointers for where to look for opportunities. You've done us right, and I'll make sure that I pass on the name of the Silver Spur as I travel."
Turning to the others, he tries to take their measure one by one. When the good doctor rises to head to his room he waves. "Have a good rest, friend. I don't mean to be rude, but it looks like the road has taken it's toll. Perhaps we'll have a chance to chat in the morn, after some sleep."
With the doctor gone he turns to the rest still at the table. He's nursing his second whiskey and appears relaxed. "I see there's another talker at the table like myself," he gives a friendly smile to Antonio, "and two that seem perhaps the more quite types. If the rest of you are thinking of looking for work around these parts what might you say to checking the prospect out together? Sometimes having a group available can help convince an potential employer you're serious. That and my last job was as the lone hired hand for a farmer who needed someone to watch his sheep for a season; I'm feeling like I could use a bit more company in whatever my next gig might be."
He finishes the last bites of his stew, soaking it up with the bread, closing his eyes as he relishes it. "Whatever else happens here and no matter what your answers are I can already say that Dottie keeps a much better kitchen than that old farmer did. I could get used to eating food an actual cook prepares for the next while."
"Much obliged, ma'am." Booker tugs the brim of his hat in a tipping gesture to Dottie as she moves to return to her business.
He glances over at Beaufort. "Hm, you may have a point." He nods in agreement. ”A group may have a better chance of getting some work.” He glances at the others. ”I’m no bounty hunter, so what say? The stagecoach or Pinkerton’s?”
At the mention of Pinkerton's as an option, Curly's features tighten a bit briefly, but he holds his tongue to let the others have their say.
"Yes, thank you. Nice to meet you Mr. Curly. I'll be fine with a bit of rest." He answers the man that called himself Curly. Once in the room he does just that. Depression and old age, what a combination. Town seems nice though. Just need some rest.
The gunslinger finishes his whiskey then offers a faint smile to the others still seated at the table. "Well... I'll let you social types find whatever work suits you. As for me, I reckon I'll take a look at this Post and find a quick way to earn a few bucks. There's always someone out there with a price on his head." After paying Dottie for the meal and the room, Angel Eyes scoops up his saddlebags and nods in parting to the others, then heads upstairs to sleep. In the morning he'll check the postboard and find a likely bounty to cash in on.
Curly gives a cheerful wave to Angel Eyes as he heads to his room. "Best of luck to you, friend. If our paths cross again, I only hope it's not because someone's decided to put a bounty out for me. I don't reckon I'd like having you tracking me down." Curly chuckles, apparently thinking himself more clever than he actually is.
Turning to the remaining two, he seems a bit thoughtful. "If we do set out together, whether we're considering a bounty or not," he nods towards Booker, "and understanding that there's an expressed desire not to, I always find it interesting to look at posted bounties on my way through a town. Having a heads up that someone you meet might be interesting in ways that aren't apparent can be a handy thing. I think I'd like to swing by that Post Office tomorrow morning myself even if we're likely not to stop there.
"Thinking back to what Dottie said, there was also talk of train work we could think about. Trains might move faster than I'm interested in, but they also might be less objectionable than other options depending on what might be offered."
Eventually, you all retire for the evening. The hotel is quiet and comfortable, and the sun is shining as you wake up. Suddenly, you hear gun fire! A few shots to start, and then more followed by shouting and the sound of horses galloping through the town.
As you gather to see what all of the commotion is, everyone is talking. The bank has been robbed! Everyone is speculating who it might have been, but no ones seems to know for sure. Word is, though, Sheriff is looking to gather a posse quick and try to track the bandits.
"Bank robbers! How positively American! Though I daresay the bandits of my native land may often try to put on a nobler front, the hearts of men are seeped in evil no matter where you find yourself. Gentlemen, I believe that volunteering to corral these larcenous layabouts would go far in establishing our bona fides, as it were, in this town."
And here I thought this was a nice quiet town. Dr. Alfonzo gets up. Despite the manner in which he woke he feels well rested and gets dressed as if he is going on job interviews. I better prepare to defend myself in case of any other attacks of this nature.
He
tries to hide these concoctions about his person as to not cause alarm when walking down the street. When he comes down stairs he hears Antonio means to hunt down the bank robbers.
"You maybe on to something. I came here hoping for some honest work, but who can do that when villains like these are about? I would join you on this expedition. I may not look like much, but I am a man of science and I have a few surprises for men like these."
Leaning against the wall as he watches the commotion through narrowed eyes, the gunslinger grunts in the direction of the well-dressed foreigner. "Well, I reckon this job will cut out most of the legwork in finding a bounty. So long as it pays enough." With an easy grace, Angel Eyes moves through the milling crowds, keeping an ear out for any interesting bits of information as he heads to the Sheriff's office.
Curly walks up to the group as Antion is speaking. He nods at the Mysterious Stranger. "That sounds about right, though I believe that traditionally this sort of thing pays a bit better than volunteer work, while still building up the good will at the same time. We'd almost be fools not to do it!"
He gives the good doctor a friendly pat on the shoulder. "You're looking much better this morning! That's fine. It'll be a pleasure to have you with us!" Looking around and seeing Angel Eyes already heading off down the street he turns to the others an smiles. "I imagine we'd best follow along promptly if we want to hear all the details. That one's eager to go, and I'm guessing that if he's willing, he'd be a good one to have in a posse."
Curly starts to follow after Angel Eyes, encouraging the others to come with.
What’s left of the small group talks into the late evening before retiring to their rooms. Booker crawls into bed, knowing it’s possibly his night in the room if he can’t find paying work. With a grunt he lays his head and closes his eyes.
Gun shots ring out and Booker’s revolver is in hand and cocked before he’s even fully awake. He aims into the darkness. His heavy breaths coming quickly. As he looks around Booker shakes his head, throwing off the ghosts of the past. Climbing out of bed he grabs the gunbelt on the nightstand and hurries down stairs to the shouts of the bank being robbed.
”I think it might be a bit too earlier to even call it morning.” He says with a hint of sarcasm as he steps up next to Curly and nods to the doctor respectfully, but eyes him cautiously. ”Always good to have a doctor around I suppose.”
With a sigh he holsters the pistol and strap on the gunbelt as he follows after the other two towards the sheriff’s office.
The Sheriff is out front, checking his rifle and his saddle before mounting his horse.
"Ok, looks like we have some volunteers. The bank has offered a $100 reward for the return of the stolen funds, and I just got a wire from the U.S. Marshall's office that each member of the gang has a $50 bounty on their head. With 5 of them, that's $350 for bringing them all in. One heck of a payday! Even split to every man or woman that joins us. Anyone here a decent tracker?"
Booker raises his hand slightly. ”I got a little experience, but if I’ve learned anything, a second set of eyes always helps.” He says then glances around at the others gathered.
As he arrives at the Sherrif's office Curly tips his hat and listens to what he has to say. When the Sherrif is done and Booker throws his hat in as a tracker, Curly to him. "I've got some experience tracking as well. I'd be happy to be a second set of eyes helping out when the time is right."
"Not a tracker myself, but I can shoot. Besides, too many trackers spoil the trail, as they say. Or they should say."
The gunslinger smiles his enigmatic, slightly mocking smile and asks. "Did the wire mention whether they wanted any of these men still breathing when we bring 'em in?"
"I was trained by my father during my youth. The trail to Santa Fe from Washington was difficult and we had to hunt most of our food. I believe I can track these villains." Alfonzo declares proudly, maybe with a bit of an air of arrogance to compensate for his insecurity around such macho men.
Dr. Alfonzo inspects the tracks leading out of town.
"Didn't specify dead or alive, but I don't need anyone who is bloodthirsty..." The sheriff doesn't really expand on that, though.
Dr. Fanucci finds the trail out of town and leads the way. It is slow going, though, as the tracks lead over more rocky terrain, and through a wide creek at one point.
As you stop to take a rest, Booker's horse becomes tense. You all get quiet and hear a rattling sound, and then you see you have stumbled upon a rattlesnake nest!
Antonio strokes his horse's face, leaning in close. "Just snakes, old boy. Nada que temer."
Following the good doctor, helping where and when he can with keeping the trail, Curly smiles. "You're right, you do know how to do this well. I knew we'd be happy to have you along with us."
As they stop for a rest while Dr. Alfonzo confirms the direction of the tracks, Curly muses, "So we're expecting at least 5 when we get there, with the possibility of more at their camp I'd guess. I guess we'll need to assess the situation when we get ... He stops talking as Booker's horse starts some and hears the rattling sounds with the rest of the posse.
Hand on the reigns, he pat's his horse neck. "That's OK, Shemp. Like Antonio says, these are just some snakes. We'll stay out of their way and they won't bother us."
Shemp dances back a bit, but in the end Curly manages to maintain control.
Alfonzo may have some tracking skills from his youth, but his experience riding a horse is obviously limited. He trys to calm his horse but seems to be insulting the animal. "Damn you beast be still!" unsurprising the horse does the exact opposite.
I miss my carriage He thinks to himself as he prepared to meet the ground.
Booker nodded to Curly then looked back at the doctor as he spoke up and seemed to take the initiative. He looks back at Curly and shrugs at he mounts the borrowed horse.
D’witt keeps his eyes moving as he follows the doctor.
He feels the horse tense under him as everyone goes quiet. The sound of the rattles carrying in the early day. ”Easy boy.” Booker pats the horse’s neck attempting to keep it calm and tries to back it away from the nest slowly.
Angel Eyes clamps down on his cigarillo as his mount bucks unexpectedly. Rattlers!
vs DC 12 = Failure!
"Dammit, whoa there, mule." The gunslinger growls to no avail as the balky animal shies away from the venemous snakes.
vs DC 15 = Success!
As Curly gets Shemp settled he looks to his companions and sees that everyone but Doctor Fanucci has things under control (even though Angel Eyes made it interesting.) "Doctor!" he calls out, moving Shemp closer with a flick of the reins to see if he can be of assistance.
Dr. Fanucci is thrown from his saddle, and finds himself face to face with a rattlesnake. His horse takes off running, Curly chasing after him.
Angel Eyes manages to keep his seat, although he loses control of the mule who trots away from the scene.
Booker dismounts and pulls his rifle off his back. He holds it out at the snake slowly and gently waves the muzzle back and forth in an attempt to draw the snake’s attention away from the doctor. Hopefully not aggravating it further.
”Okay Doc, move real slow.” He Says calmly.
Antonio takes out his pistol and tries to take a bead on the snake, but he Hope's Booker's plot works. He will fire if the snake moves to strike but not to kill, to frighten.
Confident that the others will take care of Doctor Fanucci and any snakes that might be disturbed, Curly attempts to spur Shemp to a gallop to catch up with the other, terrified horse.
Shemp, while moving quickly, moves no more quickly than he would have without the encouragement.
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The doctor spits sand and opens his eyes wide face to face with a rattle snake. yes, real slow that sounds right. The aging man crawls backwards trying best to not provoke the snake.
The gunslinger's eyes flash in annoyance as the frightened beast rides away from the threat, carrying him with it!
vs DC 12?
vs DC 15?
Booker's quick thinking diffused the situation, as Alfonzo slyly sneaks back to avoid harm.
You pick up the trail again, and continue to follow the tracks. It starts to get dark, though, and the Sheriff suggests pitching camp for the night.
"Lets take one last look at these tracks."
Curly dismounts shemp and makes sure that he's secure before checking out the campsite. "I'm not much of a cook myself, but I can gather us some wood for a fire and see if I can find any berries to supplement our trail rations."
After a bit of foraging Curly returns with a load of wood, but noting much in the way of berries. "Well, either there's nothing much edible that grows just here or it's getting to dark for me to find it easily. Ah well, I suppose we'll live."
Curly sets the wood out for the fire and watches everyone else prepare for the night. When the fire is going and he's eating his dried meat from his rations he asks the sheriff for a bit more information about their quarry. "So before we get to this gang of bank robbers is there anything else we know about them? I didn't get a chance to ask back in town, but when they took the money were they just armed with guns, or was there any dynamite or anything more serious they let on they had? Anything we should be particularly wary of here?"
"No, not much. Bank tellers only spoke of guns, but by the time we get back to town, I am sure the story will have grown. Just a bunch of thugs looking for a free ride, I'm thinking."
You make camp and settle down for the night, when Angel Eyes heads off to relieve their bladder. He sees a low glow off in the distance to the south. Might be a fire.
"Guns are more then enough to get'cha killed." Booker says plainly as he pokes the fire.
After eating something that could possibly pass as a meal while on the trail Booker stretches. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Wake me for my watch." He rolls his shoulder as he rises and moves to his bedroll.