Cougar Rydell blinks stupidly and squints at you with suspicion: "I know you? Why you wanna buy me a drink? What you want, boy? My claim's been staked an' I ain't sellin' out to no man."
Parsons points at the backdoor of the general store and says, "That way to main Street. The marshal is right next door. That'll be 20¢."
"Hard to say. I don't get outside town too much. I reckon he'd go to Mexico...or maybe the Big J Ranch. There's rumors. Maybe the Kerrigan Ranch." Parsons tilts his head in the direction of Cisco and Jesús and adds, "These fellas might know. Said they ride for the Seven Up brand."
"Yeah, Mr. Rydell, we drank together once...and worry not, it's not about selling out. I can promise you that...I think Mr. Cisco might want to hire you. I just don't know about what, but it never hurts to listen to a man's offer, does it?"
"Boy, I'll let you buy me two drinks!" replies Cougar Rydell. "But goddam, son, my name is Cougar not no Mister Rydell! Where we fixin' to wet our whistles?"
The second guard signals to the first to allow Tybalt, Quinn, Mary, Corbin, and Eugene into the ranch and says, "If you're hungry, that there--" pointing at Lars "--is the cook, so take it up with him. If you're tired we ain't got no extra bunks but you're welcome to bed down in the stable or the barn. The hay's soft enough. You can leave your horses at the corral."
"OK, Cougar...and I'm just Juan", Juan says. "Let's go to the general store. We had an arrangement to meet there with Cisco."
"He buyin'?" asks Cougar as you mosey back to the Wagon Wheel general store. He leaves his mule tied at the hitching rail outside the hardware store.
'I thank you most sincerely,' replies Cisco to Parsons, 'and can assure you your trust will not be abused.' He turns to Jack, extends a hand once more. 'Samuel Kidd, sir. The Seven Up is newly arrived here in the territory, and as yet lacks a remuda of sufficient size to sell horses, but my compañeros and I are riding out to the J-Bar spread this afternoon and you would be welcome to join us on the trail.' Cisco looks back at Parsons. 'And the turn at that fork is in which direction?' The attorney thanks the storekeeper for his help, spies Juan and Rydell out the window, across the street. 'We have one more errand to perform here in town before we ride,' Cisco explains to Jack, 'and it will involve a free drink for you, if you are so inclined.'
"Northwest will take you to Tucson, northeast will take you to the Big J."
There's nothing notable going on in the stables aside from some hands coming in for the night and rubbing down their horses while a few others saddle up for the night watch. All of the horses sport the J-Bar brand aside from those brought in by Lars, you, and your companions. There's plenty of water and hay as well as some corn and carrots for the horses. A couple of hands are tending to the horses and setting aside their saddles.
"Sure he is!", Juan assures the man.
Anything in particular that Quinn wants to look into?
I'm going to assume Eugene and Mary are going with you as we haven't heard from
Gringnr and
Doc Sammy.
"Them was no Injuns."
I assume all of you saw Lars when he came up to the gate.
'I do thank you again, Mr Parsons, Mrs Parsons,' Cisco answers, touching his brim one more time.
'I'm afraid I can't be of assistance,' Cisco replies ruefully, 'as I haven't seen anyone who matches your colorful description.' He checks his watch adds, 'We will retire to the Yellow Rose while you conduct your business with the marshal, and ride out in a half-hour or so.' With that, he moves to join Juan and the prospector, suggests they go to the saloon down the street.
Bunch, what's Jesús doing?
It's about 3:30 p.m. for the group in Saguaro.What time is it for the town party?
'I do thank you again, Mr Parsons, Mrs Parsons,' Cisco answers, touching his brim one more time.
'I'm afraid I can't be of assistance,' Cisco replies ruefully, 'as I haven't seen anyone who matches your colorful description.' He checks his watch adds, 'We will retire to the Yellow Rose while you conduct your business with the marshal, and ride out in a half-hour or so.' With that, he moves to join Juan and the prospector, suggests they go to the saloon down the street.
OOC: What time is it for the town party?
Jack sees the remnants of a recently torn-down wanted poster, but currently nothing is tacked up outside the marshal's office. Looking inside the inward-opening door, which was already ajar, you see a Mexican charwoman on her knees beside a bucket of soapy water as she scrubs vomit from the floor in front of the jail door. As the jail door is directly opposite the marshal's doorway, you also see a ruddy-faced man curled up on a cot, snoring in his sleep. To the left of the entryway you see the marshal sitting with his boots propped up on his desk as he cleans the barrel of a .50-caliber Remington buffalo gun. A Smith & Wesson .44 lies on the desktop within easy reach. An engraved nameplate reads THOMAS J. CLARY, with the title MARSHAL in smaller letters underneath the name.
Jesus stares at a set of plates with a pattern very reminiscent of the ones his parents had. They'd worked years to afford them bringing them out for special guests. Thinking about home and how he may never be able to taste Momma's cooking again pained him. So lost in thought, Cisco's questions and directions go past him without acknowledgement. Finally snapping out of it he answers simply "Si" and trying to follow Cisco's lead as best he can.'I do thank you again, Mr Parsons, Mrs Parsons,' Cisco answers, touching his brim one more time.
'I'm afraid I can't be of assistance,' Cisco replies ruefully, 'as I haven't seen anyone who matches your colorful description.' He checks his watch adds, 'We will retire to the Yellow Rose while you conduct your business with the marshal, and ride out in a half-hour or so.' With that, he moves to join Juan and the prospector, suggests they go to the saloon down the street.
OOC: What time is it for the town party?
Your initial impression, based on the spic-and-span organization of the marshal's office and his lean frame and serious countenance, is that the marshal is by-the-book and brooks no nonsense. Thinking the name has a familiar ring to it, you wonder if Marshal Thomas J. Clary is any relation to Sheriff Bud Clary of El Paso County, famed in law enforcement annals for burying the entire Cooley-Stinson Gang a few years back. "State your business," he calls from behind the desk.
Corbin approaches the cowhands.
"Didn't get too close afore they lit a shuck, but I reckon they looked to be totin' Colts and Sharps rifles, mainly, an' they all wore bandoliers full of extra cartridges. They weren't goin' to Sunday school."
"You're a long way from home, MacRegan," replies Marshal Clary as he sits upright and gestures to an empty chair. "Take a load off and tell me what makes you think your boys're in my neck of the woods. I also wouldn't mind seeing some documentation that puts you square with the law down here, given the Royal Dominion Police means about as much as the Rurales 'less 'n Uncle Sam puts his stamp of approval on it. I'm sure you understand. I had to put the kibosh on some would-be vigilantes just this morning."
