Flying Eagle and Winona fail to keep the contents of their stomachs inside with all the vile smells now roaming around them, and clinging to cloths that might be hard to free of the stench. Zack, who has seen and smelled worse keep his down and looks over the scene. He seems nothing occult, just very human and nasty. Sadly he has seen killings like this before.
Rufus does see the shod hoof prints, whoever was here days ago clearly had shod horses and that would point more toward settlers than natives. Unless they were stolen horses that is.
Zack wordlessly offers Flying Eagle and Winona a drink of water from his canteen, once they've stopped puking. His smile to them both is sympathetic, but there's a hardness to his eyes as he considers what has happened here; mixed with relief that it's not even worse than it seems.
Once they're good to go again, he gazes in the direction of the tracks that they have found. "I'm counting six to eight, less than a week ago. Bandits by my reckoning, on account of the native horses being in general unshod." He looks again at the atrocity they have committed. "I'm thinking we maybe need to go visit these folks. Truth be told, I ain't never been much of one for biblical talk; but I'm feelin' a powerful thirst for righteous vengeance right about now."
"If they're maybe a week ahead of us, that means we might need a week or more to catch up to them. We can't leave the cattle drive that long, as much as I share your desire for...justice."
I agree, but we can keep an eye out, if we are looking at a week that they have been here, whomever did this has a week to set an ambush if they were after the cows.
He looks around and brings the sight of his rifle up to check cover sections as he looks around.
Notice = 5
Rufus is able to confirm what Zack found, a half dozen or more shod horses about a week ago. Nothing of value remains in the ruins and the body is a week dead and ripe. Whoever did this were either Indians with stolen horses or white men acting like Indians. Its no telling which and the trail is a week old at this point. You are left to leave the body to the crows or put it in the ground, but little else you can do.
The night and day after you see no other sign of trouble and the the unease of the ruins fade, if not the smell which still faintly clings to those of you who opened the sack of ruined flesh. Two days after the ruins the drive comes to a stand still, you are still riding near the rear but so many cattle seems to be stalled. You can hear some shouting coming from near the front of the drive.
It galls Zack that there's so little he can do, but he had forgotten about his new employment; unless he overtly breaks cover as an Agent, it seems that this is one injustice he is going to have to let go of. He nods assent silently, his reluctance obvious from his expression and his demeanour.
"Let's at least give these folk a burial. It's no more than I'd want."
...
When the drive comes to a stand-still, he rides to the front to see what is doing.
Flying Eagle will help Zach with the grave, saying "It's always good to honor the dead and give them a chance for safe passage to the next world."
Back at the ruins
Zack and Flying Eagle dig a grave for the unknown homesteader. By the time they are done most of the drive had moved on and you ride off leaving a lonely gave and the ruins behind you.
Two days later
Moving toward the front you can see Bill and Own up front confronting two men holding long rifles, one a big powerfully built man with a dark red beard, wears and old confederated hat that has seen wear. You can hear him yelling to Bill "I'll be damned if I let you trample my fields with stinking Texas cows!" He angerly yells, gesturing with his rifle " It ain't enough we got to contend with boarder raiders, injuns, and Gault's bunch! Now you want to go dragging a thousand head across our land, it ain't happing mister! I'll stamped that herd all the way back to Santa fe if I haffta.'
Riding around turning strays back into the herd, Rufus rides up on the left of the group.
Once he nears the boss, he reins up, and sits there taking a break and listening to the yelling.
Winona regains her composure rapidly and says, "Ugh. Th' burnt hair smell is pervasive."
As the team rides she regains her strength. By the time they reach the next homestead she is back to her usual no-nonsense self.
She edges her horse forward and tips the brim of her hat to the homesteaders as the conversation becomes heated. She says, "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but we just saw a homestead down the way that was burnt out an' bagged. No survivors. Would that be the work of th' Gault bunch you mentioned? Your neighbors seem to have met a bad end, I'm afraid, and I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news."
Zack gladly leaves the talking to Winona, who seems better at it than he is. He likes folk well enough, but the art of putting them at ease and winning them round to your way of thinking is not his great skill. He sits in the saddle just back a ways, his smile friendly but ready to become unfriendly if anyone shows disrespect.
Rufus sits back and observes ready to assist if things become hostile
The man looks at Winona then shares a looks with the other man. They share similar features and are likely related. The other man speaks up "Could be, they are right murdering bastards. How far south did you say it was?" The men seemed to be at lest willing to talk, even if they are threating violence.
|
Mal could tell that Zach's thoughts mirrored his own. He was willing to pitch in if pitching in was needed, but he found it best if others did the talking and he did things more along the punching variety.
He caught a few words, and kept hearing "Galt". He wondered if their leader was John. Then he wondered who he was.
"Well, the burned-out farmstead was a couple days ride for our group, riding slower than a lone person might," replies Winona amiably.
"Seems to me we got some uncomfortable violence in these parts already. Maybe we can figure some way to help each other out; after all, we got a lot of defense t' watch over our stock. An' if these Gault fellahs are like any other rustlers an' raiders, they won't be able to resist takin' a pot-shot at our team."
"Maybe we can try moving the herd along the edge of your property line so's we don't trample your fields, and keep a lookout for rustlers?"
Zack gives an easy shrug. "Seems to me that we have the numbers to go after these boys, not wait for them to come to us." He smiles. "I never was much of one for waitin' around." In his view, trouble is something you go looking for, on your own terms.
The first man nods to Winona." Skirting our land will work, but we'll escort you and make sure those cattle don't trample everything' his bother agrees but ads his own bit "Gault's a former border raider, he's got about a dozen gunmen riding in his gang. Folks round here might have pitched in to go after em, but he's got ties to Black river and none of us need that kinda trouble' His brother grunts in agreement."You ever hear of the Wichita witches? No thank you, I an't keen on being turned into some kind toad or cursed or something!' His brother once more grunts in agreement.
Zack may look mild-mannered, but he's a mite more than just an ordinary cowpoke and he's seen a thing or two in his time. He searches his memory for a moment or two to try and remember what (if anything) he knows about Black river and/or the Wichita witches.
Zack searches is memories to see if Black River brings up any occult vibes and yeah it does. He recalls a few cases or word of mouth incidents with Black River. The agency is sure is deep involved in witchcraft and the Wichita witches are known enforcers. Said to operate in groups of five, they are always black clothed women of stunning beauty. Known to be utterly ruthless and rumored to be deep in the darkest of magics.
Zack's friendly smile doesn't falter at this deeply unwelcome bit of news, although he does pause a moment or two longer than would perhaps be expected before replying to the two brothers. "I think good folk such as yourselves are making a good decision to keep away from such as them Wichita Witches. Truth be told I haven't heard good things about Black River, either. But next to cold iron, they say the best defence against witchcraft is hot lead. And of course the element of surprise."
He shifts in the saddle. "I have to say that I'm thinking more and more that a best defence for this herd of cattle and these good people would be a mighty good offence."
How much he knows of the Black River company's dealings with the occult, and the Witchita Witches; and how he knows it, he isn't telling. But maybe some of the more observant of the folk he's travelling with are starting to think that there's more to young Zachary Ames than meets the eye.
"Problem is that we are the ones who're having to defend a position," says Winona. "We can't just up and leave the herd to hunt down rustlers, nor delay their run to market. We have to move with th' herd and protect them from hazards, so we're the ones who're gonna get attacked, not the other way 'round. And if we just start shootin' anyone who comes by, odds are good we could inadvertently murder an otherwise uninvolved traveler."
"I'm not sayin' we shouldn't take precautions, but unless a couple of coincidences fall into place, we're not likely to be layin' down an attack on a bandit camp and riding herd in the exact same direction at the same time."
She shrugs. "Stranger things have happened, I suppose. In the meantime we gotta keep the herd movin' without causing any more grief for these fine folks."
The brothers keep an eye on you as you move the herd south of their land. But they seem at lest a bit friendlier than before."we have no intention of being toads! Man has his limits " The bigger brother says, his sibling nodding in agreement. It only takes you a few hours to skirt their property and put them and tales of witches behind you.
Having to just sit there, cooling his heels instead of taking action, doesn't sit right at all with Zack, no sirree.
But getting angry about it serves no purpose, so he gives Winona a nod and a smile. "You have the right of it, I suppose, ma'am. Suppose we'll all just have to keep our eyes wide open for any trouble that might be headin' our way. Speaking of which, it's good to see you healed up - that wound troublin' you any?"
A few days pass and things seem to be going along normally, long days of moving the cattle along, three meals and then deep sleeps from the long tiering days work. Pretty uneventful for this drive anyhow. The 3rd morning Sutter comes to you. " I sent a pair of hands off to Dogleg, that's a small town about a days ride to the rest. They were supposed to be scouting for provisions, but they haven't came back yet. I am getting a bit worried and fear they ran afoul to Indians, boarder raiders or even those Gault bandit those boys talked about a few days back. Y'all are more competent with trouble them the rest of the hands. How'ya feel about riding over to Dogleg and see if you can't find those yahoos?"
"Sure. What are their names?"
Having to just sit there, cooling his heels instead of taking action, doesn't sit right at all with Zack, no sirree.
But getting angry about it serves no purpose, so he gives Winona a nod and a smile. "You have the right of it, I suppose, ma'am. Suppose we'll all just have to keep our eyes wide open for any trouble that might be headin' our way. Speaking of which, it's good to see you healed up - that wound troublin' you any?"
Winona slides a hand under her duster to gingerly rub her side. "Still tender. Gonna be for a little while, I think," she says. "Won't stop me from ridin' or gunfightin'. You did some good work, thanks."
As the situation with Dogleg arises she adds, "Sounds like no trouble. Plus it might be a nice change of pace."
Zack gives Winona his best aww-shucks-ma'am-it-weren't-nuthin' smile, the crinkles around his eyes betraying the fact he's a good few years older than he first appears. "I gotta say, when I first happened on your little fight and saw you lyin' there, I was a mite afeared. But turns out you're made of tough stuff!" She's also a lot easier on the eye than most cowpokes of his acquaintance, but he doesn't say nuthin to that effect; he's pretty sure she gets that a lot.
...
If it weren't for the fact two folks might be in trouble, Zack would be a lot cheered by the news. As it is, he sits a mite taller and chirpier on the saddle. "A ride outta here to take a looksee, you say? High chance of trouble?" He grins, boyishly. "You're singin my tune."
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"Not my first gunfight," she explains to Zack. "Though that one got a bit meatier than any of the ones before it. Kinda feels like the bullets are gettin' closer and closer to the endgame, each one hits a little harder than the last."
She stares off onto the horizon of the prairie and adjusts her hat. "All of this land is like a snake with glittering scales curled up in a cave, dangerous and beautiful and hidden all at once," she says. "Ride long enough and far enough and you might see some amazing things. But it's not for the faint of heart. Lotta folks just tryin' to get by while other folks are trying to take everything from them. It's a land of turmoil, looking for a moment of peace."
It's a little hard to tell whether she's just talking about the western territories, or making a metaphorical parallel to herself and her own experiences.
Rufus walks up in time to hear the question and directions to the town.
Sure, I am game for a quick ride. Hoping that they are just stuck in the sherriffs jail for drunkeness.
He then heads back and saddles up Devil Eyes.
Man, Girl, you are getting some hard use, I guess I will start saddling one of the others to give the two of you a break.
With that, he quickly checks his guns, and then mounts up getting ready to ride.
"I sent Andrew and Bart, Didn't think those two would get in much trouble " Sutter says "We'll keep the heard moving, but I'll hold us up outside Exposition a few days. That's a little town north of here." With that he leaves you to it. You are a few days behind the fellers. You can ride straight to Dogleg or try and follow their trail in case they never made it.
She stares off onto the horizon of the prairie and adjusts her hat. "All of this land is like a snake with glittering scales curled up in a cave, dangerous and beautiful and hidden all at once," she says. "Ride long enough and far enough and you might see some amazing things. But it's not for the faint of heart. Lotta folks just tryin' to get by while other folks are trying to take everything from them. It's a land of turmoil, looking for a moment of peace."
It's a little hard to tell whether she's just talking about the western territories, or making a metaphorical parallel to herself and her own experiences.
Zack nods, appreciatively. "That's fine words - poetic, even, and I hear you. Not a lot of peace to be had in this land. My parents died fighting for the Union and I..." He looks almost ruefully at the LeMat revolver holstered on his hip, and gives a thought to the Gatling pistol stashed secretly in his saddlebag. "...let's just say that I haven't exactly chosen a life that makes old bones. Been a good while since I had a moment of peace." Ten years, give or take - not since before his cousin went bad and had to be tracked down and killed like a dog that wouldn't die.
He shakes his head, as if trying to dismiss that tortured simile. "I don't know, though. A moment of peace is nice and all, but it'd get kinda dull, dontcha think?" He gives her a crooked smile.
"I sent Andrew and Bart, Didn't think those two would get in much trouble " Sutter says "We'll keep the heard moving, but I'll hold us up outside Exposition a few days. That's a little town north of here." With that he leaves you to it.
Zack listens carefully, committing the details to memory the way he's been trained. "Andrew, Bart. Got it." He looks at the others. "Shall we go find our lost sheep, return 'em to the fold?"
It might be longer, but lets go check on them from where they cut off from the herd. Them follow them to the towm.
"Let's see if we can first even pick up their trail - who here's good with that sort of thing? I'm not."
Zack nods, appreciatively. "That's fine words - poetic, even, and I hear you. Not a lot of peace to be had in this land. My parents died fighting for the Union and I..." He looks almost ruefully at the LeMat revolver holstered on his hip, and gives a thought to the Gatling pistol stashed secretly in his saddlebag. "...let's just say that I haven't exactly chosen a life that makes old bones. Been a good while since I had a moment of peace." Ten years, give or take - not since before his cousin went bad and had to be tracked down and killed like a dog that wouldn't die.
He shakes his head, as if trying to dismiss that tortured simile. "I don't know, though. A moment of peace is nice and all, but it'd get kinda dull, dontcha think?" He gives her a crooked smile.
"I reckon that traipsin' hither an' yon across the ol' prairie is a good exercise for the young, but when you get those 'old bones' you were talkin' about, sometimes you just want to sit in a rocking chair and watch the sun set or maybe watch some people walkin' down the boardwalk," Winona says in reply. "I enjoy the freedom of the range, and the chance to see the towns that're springing up out here. I suppose in a few generations this'll all be big cities like the ones back east, but for now, it's a place of lawlessness and wild, where a person can make a fortune or earn a reputation for good or ill."
"And perhaps eventually I'll find my own little swatch of paradise and figure out where I want to settle in, but not until I've had a few more adventures. When I do it'll help to have seen as much of the territories as I can, so that I know where my heart will stay. As Cicero put it, 'If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need'," she concludes, perhaps a bit wistfully.
Cicero?! Zack raises an eyebrow, and shoots Winona a sideways glance. "You're a little more than an ordinary cowpoke, aren't you? But I guess I knew that already." It's meant as a playful remark: he has no idea that Winona really is more than an ordinary work-hand. But there's abundant potential for misunderstanding.
He looks around, savouring the strange beauty of the harsh landscape now that she has pointed it out to him. "The way I see it, I do my bit to keep folks safe so they can live in peace in their own little swatch of paradise. That doesn't mean I'll get to share in it! But it'd be a mighty poor world if only those with evil intent had skill with guns." He gives a smile. "Now I'm the one waxin' philosophical."
"Let's see if we can first even pick up their trail - who here's good with that sort of thing? I'm not."
Zack briefly dismounts and has a looksee of the ground. He spent several years tracking his dastardly cousin hither and yon through the assorted states and territories, and he still has some skill. "Yup, there's our trail."
"Ma made me read classics," says Winona. "Uh... Ιδού, μια γυναίκα!"
Her Greek is halting but not entirely bad.
"I've heard some folks say that hard men are needed to protect innocent folk from a hard world, but they have no place in the world they're making," she continues. "I don't necessarily believe that, because the world is changing all the time, and people often change with it. The Roman general Cincinnatus supposedly saved the Romans from devastation twice as a dictator and each time relinquished his power at the end of the crisis and went on to live out his days peacefully on his farm. There comes a time when a fighter hangs up their sword—or six-guns—and leaves the world in the good hands of those who come after."
"For today, though, we're the ones with th' world in our hands. Or at least this herd of cows."
~~~~~~~~~~
As the group searches out the trail, she wheels her horse around in a full circle to check for any onlookers on the horizon, then pulls her shotgun from the saddle holster and checks it before cradling it in one arm while holding her reins with the other.
Zack shakes his head, with a smile - it's all Greek to him, and not just the language Winona is speaking. "Any man - or woman - who can hang up their gun, then come back to it, then put it away again, is a force to be reckoned with. Of course, some of us may not be lucky enough to get that choice at all, I'm thinkin'. World ain't gettin' any less strange, or less dangerous." He grins, boyishly. "Which suits me just fine, for now. Between my 'satiable curiosity, and my wantin' to ride into trouble to help them as can't help themselves, there ain't no chance of boredom!"
Precious little chance of dying peaceably in bed, either. There are remarkably few old Agents. The pension is generous - if you can survive to claim it. Most don't.
You fall back from the trail and ride back a pace, trying to find the trail. It takes you a day to get back to where the boys split off. But Zack is able to find the trail and you follow it to the tiny Town of Dogleg. Seems they Made it to the town with no trouble. On the 2nd day after leaving the herd you ride into the town. Its not much a town, maybe a hundred folks going by the houses you see.
The towns main street also isn't much, a saloon with "Boston's" above the door, a livery, a Marshal's off and a "Jen's general store". That seem to be the be all and end all of Dog Leg attractions.
Zack looks around speculatively as the group stands in the dust of the main street of this alleged town. "It would seem to me that most any cowpoke who makes it here is going to head for the saloon almost first thing." He himself would look for a laundry and a shave, but then he's not your average cowpoke. He grins. "Heck, they might even still be there if they've lost a day or two - liquor can take people that way, I'm told"
He squints a little in the harsh sunlight. "Alternately, we could enquire of ourselves at the Marshal's, if anyone has come to harm lately." If he can go to the Marshal's alone, he might be able to show his Agency badge and get some help - the Agency and the Marshals cooperate on occasion - but he's not about to break cover in front of his companions unless it's an emergency.
"How about the saloon first, then the Marshal?"
I agree, saloon, then sherriff.
Rufus rides devil to the hitching rail and dismounts.
he then quickly brushes the dust off, and wanders into the saloon.
"Hmm." Winona seems to be thinking, but she falls in line and joins the procession of horses heading to the saloon, then levers herself out of the saddle and ties her horse to the hitching post next to the others.
You make your way into the saloon, the place is dim and only a few patrons seem to nurse drinks away from the brightness of the daylight. The place seems kept is nothing fancy, a thin man with a neatly trimmed mustache cleans glasses behind the bar. A few patrons glace up, others ignore the swinging door. The Bartender nods as you enter "Can I get you fellers a drink?"
Winona ponies up to the bar, leans against it, and rummages through a coat pocket to produce and slap down a dollar coin.
"Whiskey, bottle, and some glasses for me an' the boys," she says. She nods to Zack and says, "Pick a table?"
The Bartender looks at the coin, swaps it and grabs a half empty bottle of whisky from the shelf. He places it and some glasses on the bar. "a full bottle will cost you two dollars" He says and goes back to cleaning his glasses.
Winona ponies up another silver dollar and asks, "You have any food as well? Or just the booze?"
Rufus after a quick look inside, goes back out and quickly brushes the horses.
He then heads back inside after brushing off his cloths.
He joins the group at a table.
So what do we know so far.