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ItalianoBeef, Blood and Brotherhood
Del 5: Game Session no. 4
| Tuesday December the 14th, in the lords year 1875 Cottonville, Runnels County, Texas Now in hindsight it might not have been the best idea for a Mexican, a black man and an Indian to ride into unfamiliar territory with a white man thrust up like a turkey ready for roasting. However, since no one shot us then and there the turn of events must be considered to be a complete success. When James, Ismael and Matthew returned to Cottonville, their unwilling travel companion showed no more sign of being either worried nor intimidated by the congregation, in fact Ross appeared to be more bothered by the rain that was seeping in between his neck and coat collar. Some apple-pie related information, non-apple-pie related information and cigars changed hands under the protective roof of the hostel, and after some consideration and reassurance from Josh that he would take responsibility for what ever happened next. Ross was escorted to the stable, the stable boy was encouraged to take a hike and consume his own body weight in fudge. Meanwhile Ross was tied to a post and blindfolded with a very fine red scarf he carried around his neck. Meanwhile Josh was dragging the not so unsuspecting Joe Decker to the stable, whiskey bottle in hand. It turned out that Ross was not in-fact the man Decker had watched soaking his hands in blood. Ross was too tall to begin with. Decker recognized the man, admitting that he had seen him the previous evening, but it was not the murderer. Afterwards Decker stuck a hasty retreat and like the infantry, ran for his life. Coming to the conclusion that we had to little or most likely faulty information, we turned to a ready source, or rather Josh did pester the captive with questions until we came to a reasonable conclusion that. -Mrs Stiller, if her name is even that is an exceptional liar. -Ross, may or may not definitely have been looking for Mrs Stiller, but he is after Stiller, who is, according to Ross. Everything Jennifer told us Brewbaker is. oMorgan Stiller, now that we think about it, the name becomes familiar and the two cavalry men can confirm that yes, the name and events could fit together. -Ross appear to be former military, but we are not sure. oHe is definitely a bounty hunter, and if his equipment is anything to go by, he knows what he is doing. oHe is after some form of treasure that Stiller, allegedly hid away. oStiller himself is worth about two thousand dollars, which is a pretty hefty sum. -Brewbaker, is according to Ross not a wanted criminal, but a lawman looking for Stiller. In fact, he is the man who put Stiller behind bars to begin with. -We find it highly likely that Stiller is the man that Decker witnessed murdering L Alderson. After having so generously answered our questions and some lively discussions outside of the stable, Ross request to be released and fed was answered, the owner of the hostel appeared somewhat surprised to see Ross again, but thin excuses and the promise of money in exchange for food made questions irrelevant. Nate took a trip to Sheriff Vincent Ferells office, shared the news whit little attempt to illuminate further and left the poor man looking distraught. In the common room back at the hostel, over bowls of hot soup and with drying clothes it was agreed that the six of us would work together towards our common goal. Ross, hunting reassures and the rest of us Stiller. We agree that the key to finding Stiller is Mrs Stiller, and not being the trusty kind, we decide not to trust the address she gave Nate before departing, instead we head out after the stagecoach, hours behind but optimistic none the less. On the road West On the way out of Cottonville, heading west we ran into three fellas, just as the sun was setting. They were heading into town and each group gave the other one some space. One look at each other was all that as needed though, we are not the only bounty hunters here. It is around four in the afternoon, darkness is staring to crawl over the horizon and the rain is falling, we urge the horses into a ground eating trot, leaving the hills and Cottonville behind us, aiming for the next coach station. The night to the 15th December is spent outdoors, under the cover of a tarp, some oak trees, in the company of a fire and some coffee. A guard schedule was set up, but the most exciting event of the night was the fact that it stopped raining, and Ross attempt to question Ismael on his ethnic heritage. Maybe traveling with a bounty hunter isn´t that good of an idea after all, not when the majority of the people have a prize on their head in one way or another. On the 16th of December Nate and Josh make contact with two coaching stations along the way, both of which confirm having seen Jenifer on the stagecoach, and informing us that she left with the coach. Not to be outdone by a trunk on wheels with bad springs, we pushed on towards north west. The fire was crackling in the dead of night, which was a pleasant backdrop to the sounds of the prairie and Nates snoring. The good old Texas boy was, like the rest of the company, out cold. Josh was sitting across from the fire, cleaning his guns for what must have been the hundredth time, it was, fascinating watching this exercise in self-restraint. The young man, usually so energetic in his movements was inspecting and cleaning the Colt by piece, allowing the pieces to move and inspecting each and every shift in momentum and balance. All the while carrying a concentrated frown-line between his brows. Matthew had since long finished sharpening the edges of his knives to satisfaction and was keeping watch. Contempt with staying in the shadows cast by the oak trees, rather than exposing himself to the light. Guess old habits die hard. The question, when it came was so unexpected that he almost missed that it had been spoken in the first place. “What did you do, you know before?” Josh wasn´t looking up, he was instead concentrating on the movement of the hammer and cylinder. ”Could ask you the same, aren´t you a bit young to be living this life?” Josh shrugged one shoulder and inserted some pin or other that Matthew had no idea about the function. “Ma died, two brothers went to war and da left me at the farm…” He sent the cylinder spinning, watching the light from the fire dancing in the polished metal. “Had to take care of myself.” “Clearly you succeeded, I take it the war didn´t end well.” “One died, the other one never came back. Da stayed at the far in Kansas, running things with me, then he found God…” Josh adds with a dry tone. “And then the road to Black hills…” Matthew, releasing the surrounding darkness with his gaze for a moment looks over at Josh. “Black hills?” he laughs shortly and dryly, more of a short whezze than laugh. “Then I´m sad to say he is about to meet his maker, my condolences.” He looks back into the dark. “Ironic isn´t it, I´m from there, so for all we know my brothers have cut the scalp of you dear old da, or maybe gotten shot for attempting it.” “He is a wiry fucker, my old man, but he does have a tendency to get into trouble.” They share a quick glance that take the edge of the harsh words. “So, why did you leave?” Matthews tone, when he answers is short and dis-encouraging. “I was recruited by the cavalry.” Though recruited was such a strong word, maybe forcefully conscripted at gunpoint was a better way to put it? “Was that when you took your name?” Josh slides the now put together gun into its holster, burrowing into his poncho and leaning into the conversation. “Because I assume your not really names Matthew Swift, doesn’t sound very Sioux.” “The captain couldn’t pronounce my name, so I got a new ‘civilized’ one.” Matthew gets up, suddenly restless despite the calm night. “The previous tracker in the company was called Swift, but he had gone down in a hill-slide the week before, so I inherited that. Matthew, well the lieutenant decided that was close enough to my actual name, then it stuck.” Desperate for a change of topic, he asks. “You and Nate, how did that happen?” Joshes expression turn into a smirk and he chuckles. “Ran into him at a saloon in Kansas a few weeks ago. He was beating the stuffing out of his former foreman, right there, and I have to admit, it was damned impressive.” Josh rummage through his pockets coming up with matches and smokes. ”We decided that since we were both unemployed we could head south and seek fortune there, or cattle-heading what-ever came up first.” Josh lights up two hand-rolled and offer one to Matthew. “Guess there´s gonna be a while before we set foot on a ranch?” “Your guess is as good as mine.” “It beats being locked up!” Josh peaks in, with a knowing wink. “Maybe,” Matthew shrugs and taps the butt of the cigarette sending ash dancing. “Cattle is not my, deal. Bad enough heading around the bloody cavalry.” For a second his gaze wander from the dark to James, seeking out his friend as if to assure himself that the man is indeed there. “care to tell why you were shaking bars? Didn´t they have a Sunday school to put you in?” Josh grins. “After da left I sold of the land and the house, bought a horse and iron. Met up with some other boys and we made quick and easy money.” The grin turs a bit smug. “I have been locked up a couple of times, and back in Bourbon County they still want me behind bars.” The glance, and raised eyebrow the story receives in reply conveys the mixed message of disbelief and outer lack of surprise. As if Matt can’t decide if he hopes Josh is lying or not. “No-one is locking me up,” Josh right hand falls to the butt of the Colt. “Not again.” “Famous last words.” “Maybe,” Josh fire of hat mischievous grin again. “But I am not dead yet.” In the interest of nor repeating himself and pointing out that, that too is famous last words, Matthew shrugs. “Clearly not, despite a few attempts no doubt. Why did you boys break up a working operation?” “Things went south, or rather I did, and the only other survivor headed north. Let´s just say it was time to leave Bourbon County and Kansas behind, after all what is not to enjoy with Texas in the winter, the warm dry climate for one thing?” Matthew glances meanigngly at the ground, still wet from the rain. “Yeah, the climate is about as warm and welcoming as the people, everything is on the other end of the bloody state and the Apaches are taking pot-shots at everything that moves. But at least it beats Arkansas, was stationed there for a while, damned mosquitoes. Thought I was gonna get eaten alive.” “You describe those qualities as if they are a bad thing, I mean here in Texas there´s work to be done, work that requires iron in your hand, my type of work. Texas, New Mexico, it´s the land of opportunity for people like us, we are going to make big money, mark my word Swift!” Josh, lights up a second time, before changing tracks entirely. “So, what´s your real name? In English maybe?” Matthew slides back into the shadows, flicking the last of his cigarette into the fire. “That´s not the way it works, I mean how do you translate Nate or Josh? Is that even your real name by the way?” Josh, unawares or uncaring of the clear signs, encouraging him to let the matter go, scratch the back of his head. “I thought Indian names were sort of, straight to the point?” He shrugs, his features turning serious for a change. “A preacher once told me that Josh was short for Joshua, it means ‘God is the salvation’, in some language they spoke when they wrote the bible.” Josh cracks up again, as if incapable of wearing the mask of sincerity for longer than required. “It´s a weird name, but to each their own I guess.” The silence stretches filling the night for what seems like forever. “I have many names that was given to me by my people, ‘Little Crow’, is the one you have the least chance of verbally thrashing…” Josh nods, thoughtfully. “Little Crow? I like it.” He feeds another log into the fire. “You should use that one instead of something someone else made up.” Matthew turns his gaze back into the darkness. “Don´t need more reasons for them to string me up.” His tone turns raspier. “You,” He nods with his chin towards Josh. “They put behind bars. Indians and blacks, they string us up like dogs, and I have no interest in tempting faith and see if I can survive a second time.” His gaze dart back to James, who is still sleeping. “Doesn´t that become all backwards, I mean call a spade a spade! Anyway, I usually put holes in those who try to string up my friends, have done, and will do again.” Ignoring the not so subtle undertone Matthew scoffs. “A re-occurring problem in your line of work I presume?” “Naturally.” That cocky, shit-eating grin is back full force and if the young man was standing up, he would be sauntering towards the closest saloon. A personality trait Matthew is all too familiar with, he just hadn´t expected to see a paler version of his own 16-year-old self like this. All bravado and no brain. Sure enough, he did survive that hellhole his own stupidity tossed him into, but at what cost? “What´s the plan here? You are getting filthy rich, hope not to die on the way there and then what?” Matthew rests his back against an oak, stretching out his limbs, yearning for movement. “Filthy rich is probably not going to happen, I´m just here for the big adventure! Kicking up dirt in some godforsaken plot of land has never been for me!” Oh, Matthew thinks for himself, to be that young and reckless again. It´s on the tip of his tongue to tell Josh that he to yearned for adventure, still high on the visions from the Sundance and a chip on his shoulder the size of a redwood he had gone out looking for trouble, only to let his alligator mouth bite of what is pigeon ass couldn´t handle. “I want to put miles of prairie under Rebels hoofs, see new sights, meet new people, maybe hit some of them, and above all, get some enjoyment out of life. Live a little not just same old day after day.” If Josh has noticed the distracted state of his companion, he makes no comment. “What about you? What brought you down here? On your way back to Dakota to lift the scalps of bluecoats?” “Don´t know, after seven years in the army, kicking up dirt by a plot of land sounds damned tempting. I´ll tell you that.” He takes of his hat, comb the thick strands of raven locks back with his fingers and trap them again in the confinement of the crown. “Back in Dakota, there is only war, and the reserves, and that´s no way of living…” He adds, as an afterthought. “No blaze of glory for you then?” “We´ll see, the plan, before we ran into the lot of you,” He gestures to the bodies scattered around the clearing. “Was to head to Cheyenne, then I was heading north and James west.” “Oh.” Josh looks genuinely surprised at the thought of the two friends splitting up. “Then that plan went the way most plans go, working perfectly, until you make enemy contact.” The last bit is added with a wry smile. “Well,” Josh adds, consolatory. ”There is always the possibility to head north later, to be honest I´m not at all convinced there will be cowboys of us, not at all.” “Well enough maybe, I think we would have been mediocre at best.” “Destiny want´s something different for us.” Josh burrows deeper into his poncho. “Trust me, you´ll get your fair share of pale faced scalps with you as you head to the happy hunting ground.” Matthew looks over, with a wolfish grin. “You think I haven’t already?” Unfaced Josh fires back. “I don´t doubt it, I just think there´s gonna be a lot more.” “For some reason, there tend to be.” Looking up at the moon and stars Matthew stretched his neck, rolling out the tension. “I´m waking up James and Nate, it´s their guard.” Friday December the 17th, in the lords year 1875 Cottonville, Quay County, New Mexico Third day of chasing a bloody stagecoach, this is getting old. Early in the morning we passed a coachingstation who reported little of interest apart from confirm that our, person of interest was there. The afternoon however turned out to be more fruitful, the station keeper informed a resource shopping Nate and Josh that a lady matching Mrs Stillers description had exited the stagecoach and met up with a gentleman and two horses, the couple had left town heading west-south west towards fort Summon and the Mexican border. Matthew was directed towards the tracks and the remaining congregation use Colt to mouth negotiation to put fear in the locals, un-wise enough to try and sell information. Rather than taking the opportunity to rest and recover, Matthew demands that they continue, mostly because none of the others will do the heavy lifting when it comes to tracking the two familiar horses. Finding what tracks to follow turned out to be a piece of cake, since it is the same horses Stiller used to dump a body outside of Cottonville. ‘So, all we have to do now is follow Matt?’ Josh said as the be-feathered hat disappeared on the other side of a hill. ‘Well,’ James sighed and urged Driftwood into a trot. ‘That is my life in a nutshell.’ Now only a few hours behind, tensions started to surface when Ross expressed a desire to follow the Stillers closely and wait for them to collect their alleged treasure, rather than closing in and making the process short. A tactic that makes the rest of us dependent on when Ross thinks it is a good idea for us to act, something Matthew is none too keen on. He is not in the least convinced that Ross is telling the truth when he claims that our company is growing on him. As time progressed it became evident that Stiller knew they were being followed, or the wanted criminal and prison run-away is simply paranoid. The bloody bastard rode though a creek, which I have to admit is exactly what I do myself when I need to throw someone of my tail, and when I am not sure if I have someone on my tail and want to shake them of regardless. I´ll give it to him, he knows how to hide his tracks, it took time and a lot of curses in addition to a pissed off Quarter horse who was sick and tiered, of walking around in knee deep water, but after two and a half hours, I found the tracks again. Let´s just say that spite is a good motivator, when someone has thrown you off once, you take it personally, twice, that is just plain embarrassing. Delayed but on their tail, we continued, however the plains were turning into mountains, and night was falling, that was when Ross released the little tid-bit of information that Stiller has a brother living in a town called Riverside, twenty or so kilometers from here. Were we willing to take the gamble that they were heading there? After a few minutes of discussion, it was decided that Matthew and, after a very short contemplation on his side, Josh. Would follow the trail, and the rest, led by Ross would head to Riverside, hoping to intercept the run-aways, preferably red-handed with a bag of money. Camp was set up for the night, with plans for the next day formed, if not written in stone. |
Fortsättning:
Del 1 (9 dec 2019)Del 2: Game Session no. 1 (9 dec 2019)
Del 3: Game Session no. 2 (9 dec 2019)
Del 4: Game Session no. 3 (9 dec 2019)
Del 5: Game Session no. 4 (9 dec 2019)
Tillagd 9 dec 2019 Noveller #Egenupplevt #Rollspel #Geeky/nördigt
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