Edward's voice drips sarcasm. "Left. Stuffed animals jus' freakin' left, leavin' a corpse b'hind them. An' then ye just stumbled 'cross us. Ya wanna fetch the rope an' soap or shouldja grab it m'self? What 'n the name of God's goin' on here?"
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"Christ Almighty!" yells Edward, shocked by the newcomer. "Aren't ya blind, you old Chink? Whaddaya mean, a strange sight? An' most important, who are ya and whatcher doin' here?"
Bullet chambered, Edward follows Winona, whispering. "Take care. Might be a sort o'beast."
"Sumthing attacked this place, ripped the stuff apart. Other than that, ah've got no idea what could've happened."
"Wha' sort o'furrier has no animals? Reckon someone stole 'em?"
Clutching the weapon, Edward opens the door and peers inside.
Edward crouches next to the window, trying to get a good look inside. "Hoy!" he shouts. "Anyone 'nside?"
Wilson frees his sleeve from the drunkard's hand with a jerking motion and a disgusted sneer. "Aight, but ah'll warn ya, 'f it's just some stuffed rat an' yer story comes from bourbon, ah'm gonna kick you sober." At the shed, he readies the rifle and takes point. "Anyone feelin' like kickin' in the door?"
Willing and able here.
So, is this game officially dead?
Edward, still pale from the day before, hurries Copper. "Ah'll check with him an' catch up with ya on the road."
"Y'mean... y'mean they're real? Jesus, Joseph and Mary. Ah- ah mean..." Edward passes a hand through his hair, visibly pale. "Aight, ah guess ah can take the watch after yours, Many Clouds. Don' think ah'll be doin' much sleeping tonight."
"Wait, how are y'all so calm? Is it normal? There are monsters around and "
Edward's voice is a hysteric shriek. "Tha' was no man in a mask, no man could survive bein' pumped so full of lead, I shot right through 'is chest, for Chrissake! Wha' the...? How the- Oh, God." Falling to his knees, the tall, rugged man clutches a small silver cross hanging from his neck, quietly praying. "O God, you are the healer of soul and body. Save us and make us whole. Even when we suffer under all our sickness and all our infirmity, help us overcome the temptations of the enemy by your strength; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
"Ah' gotta ask too, wha' on Earth is that? Hey! Ugly! Eat some lead!" Confused or not, Edward fires again at the creature's center of mass, shifting to shield Shane with his body.
After a moment of shock, the shot of Edward's rifle joins the chorus of firearms going off. Part of his brain is screaming in horror and disbelief, but his mind is focused on the fight.
Listening to Jean play music and sing brought Edward's mind back, to a time before the war and a girl named Connie, who he hasn't seen in all those years...
"Howdy." Edward takes his hat off as he moves inside the house. "We were on the train that got attacked, been enjoyin' the town e'er since. Nice place you got here."
"Don'cha go worryin' 'bout secrets, y'all, as long as they don't come and bite us in the backside. Ah don' care what y'all did, unless y'are psycho murderers or the like."
Wilson shot a brief alarmed glance at Hutton, but didn't say anything. What does he mean? Does he know?
As the sheriff tells the tale of the Red Hand, Edward falls silent, his face turning slightly paler. "A bank robber turned honest, huh, tha's something you don't see much often, do ya?"
"Hup-hup, Copper."
"Ne'er known any kind of person who'd rip the face off someone. Ah reckon it may be some personal slight." Cautiously Edward recovers the satchel and peeks inside.
Without dismounting, Edward readies the rifle and looks around. "Take care. Might be an ambush."
"Yeah, ah did. On the wrong side, not like I had a choice in the matter. Got drafted, giv'n a rifle, a jacket and a kick in the backside, told to shoot th' Yanks or get shot for cowardice. An' a bloody affair 'twas. Ne'er seen so many men wasted so badly."
Unloading the rifle and packing it on his back, Edward relaxes his posture. "Ah, 'twas nothin'. But ah ain't too eager to shoot any more folks, got enough o'that in the war. Ah'll get Copper back 'fore we head to the ranch."
Edward walks towards the men, rifle pointed forward and a fresh shot in the chamber. "An' mahself, I ain't too keen on people shootin' on people withou' reason. Care ta gimme one?"
Rolls:
Thank you for setting the game up!
Edward scowls, looking over the scene as Clementine scolds the man with too many titles. Quaint little place. Perception:
"Hoy!" shouts Edward, taking his rifle back from the saloon wardrobe. "What's with all the racket o'er here?"
Edward hangs around the gambler, apparently watching the game, but actually trying to get a feel of the card players and Sarah.
I don't guess the saloon would let me in with a rifle, right? I'll likely act as a bit of a face for now.
A badge? Me? Oh, that's rich. No, no, out of the spotlight. "Yeah, ah'm all for inconspicuous. Can also get in, pretend ah'm a gambler, lose a couple bucks an' be ready if lead starts flying."
Edward looks at his glass before speaking again, well-honed paranoia kicking in.
Edward chuckles at Samuel's remark, sending some of the dring up his nose. "Well, ah didn't mean you, I meant Hutton, who wanted to go alone and leave us in that pickle. But hey, if you say it yourself, who am I to argue wit'ya?"
Fiddling with a card without no real intent to play, Edward looks at the others. "So, are we stranded here until the railway is repaired? I can take Copper and go on towards California, but... well, if God brought me here, I'll trust in Him. Perhaps we should hunt down these bandits?"
Pouring himself a glass of liquor, Edward looks at the clientele of the local, losing himself in memories. Momma used to work in a place like this, just bigger. Farmers, miners, railroad workers blew off half a week's salary to be with her. I used to think that it was so strange, now I understand them, why they would look for solace in her arms. They made little money as it was, they had little hope of the situation improving, they looked at their time with her as the best part of the week. Rinse and repeat, living seven days at a time. Is that why I started going around with the Coblands? To escape that trap, to get a better life for me and Connie? Connie...
"Real bad. About twenty riders ambushed us with explosives, shot up the train, set it on fire, took off with something it was carrying. We were the only survivors, but they lost a handful. An' I dunno if they really were injuns, they spoke English, wore boots and carried guns. Might be wanting to shift the blame."
All in a day's work B-)
Hearing shouts, Edward wakes up, grabbing his rifle and pointing it at the approaching men before hearing the word "sheriff". Was that man born with his foot in his mouth? He sounds like he's lying even when he's telling the truth! "Wait, wait, wait, hold on, we were the passengers on the train! That man too, he's kind of a j*%$&@#, but he didn't shoot on us, he helped us. Ye from the town? We feared raiders."
"We've got guns too, Many Clouds." As the ragtag group reaches the clearing, Edward looks around. "Great place for an ambush, this. But ah' reckon we'll need some rest, one way or another. We're- one, two, three.. six people who can handle themselves, how 'bout two-man guard turns? Should get us through the night if we stay sharp."
Edward raises from prayer and gathers his items. "Name's Edward Wilson. Ah've got some things for the outside, but not much, didn't anticipate bein' stuck here."
"Ne'er said any of us were heroes. Heck, ah' don't know if I can get them to safety, but ah can try, an' I know bein' alone makes you easy pickin's. Then, you wanna go alone, knock yerself out, but ah'd watch yer back if ye watched mine." Turning towards the others, he helps the elderly lady get on top of Copper, before kneeling next to the kids and trying to lead them into prayer. "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."
Coming back from the animal wagon with a reddish-haired, lean horse, Edward takes in the sdight of a massacre. What a mess. And I thought I'd left war behind me.
"Y'all can walk? 'f someone's injured ah'can lend them my Copper."
Coughing a bit from the smoke, Edward ignores the men and women scuttling around and the dead lying on the floor. He's seen his fair share of both during the war. Instead, he hurries towards the animal transport wagon, looking for his only friend in the world. "Copper! Ah'm coming, boy!"
Ok, one small thing is that you may want to wait some more time before moving the action; I wanted to shoot the guy before he threw the cocktail but didn't have time for a post this morning.
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