Grand Theft Horse - (Old West Comedy / Dead / IC)

[Stollberg-Stolberg]

Tater Frye heard the man's question as he was finishing his examination of the horse. He turned to look at the man, distinctly out of place in this place. He was the kind of man that wore a suit and not chaps. Tater wondered who he might be. Tater just called out to him, "Well, feller, these Fells Cargo wagons had a bit of a problem, and kinda broke down. Then, I guess the marshall took care of that bad man in the mask up there, and don't ask me what's happenin' inside Miss Sarah's. There were some gunshots a little bit ago, but there doesn't seem to be anyone hurt, 's'far as I can tell..." Tater purposely tried to ignore the Spaniard who couldn't blow a bugle, got on his horse backwards, and wanted a group to follow him for the salvation of East Zilch. He and the medicine man who had just rolled into town too.

Speaking back to the man in the suit, Tater said, "And forgive me, but yer not from around these parts, are you, mister?"

---

Main Street
Daniel von Schoppenhauer

Noticing Mister Potato who spoke to him he started to answer his questions. "Well yes I am actually an Professor from the University of Bavaria, and now I live here since yesterday, and you must be Mister Potato if I recall correctly? Also I found out that the Area around East Zilch has alot of Zinc and Copper, but inside Sarah´s an drunk Guy shot Tabels and... Hats." He took of his Bowler and pointed to an hole inside of it "Well on this Street there is quite an scene, well I am going to sit on ths bench now."

As Daniel spoke, still bent over the passed out doctor he had been dragging, Beaux's mind took in not only what he said, but reading enough between the lines, also took in what he did not say. Beaux was quite skilled at that. However, some people call that 'not listening' and 'putting your own thoughts into someone else's mind.' To Beaux, it was the same thing, just like the difference when someone pronounces it "bléu" and someone else pronounces it "blèu."

The thing that stood out most to the French trapper were the two words in German! "You ahr German? Ahy am French! You Germans zink you have ah ze best choco-late. But we French know that French choc-olate eez better than German chocolate! And eet eez much better zen 'Hersheys' too!"

That said, the trapper said, "Ahy am Beaux Lagged. Ahy am no meeneester. Ahy catch creeatures and sayle zeir hides!

"But alas. Ahy do not know where ze doctieur has hees offeece." Bending down over the doctor, Beaux tried to nudge him awake, hoping that might help. It sounded like there were some people back there who was needing his services. Too bad the doctor himself was also needing his services. The phrase, "Doctor, heal thyself" came to his mind, but Beaux didn't think it was the time.

---

Main Street
Daniel von Gerk

Daniel, now suprised how fast the question of Location could change into a debate about chocolate, wanted to prove that the best chocolate was Swiss and not German. Actually there was no Germany he thought, but alot of different German States. He now wanted to correct him that he was actually Saxon and not German but, nah he is going to covince him that Saxony is an great State. Oh and he will discuss the things about chocolate too, I guess.

"Well I am actually an Saxon citizen and Saxony is not Germany, also Saxony is the best German State eventhought we lost to Prussia, like what 3 times? Also French Chocolate tastes like Mushrooms and it is not as great as Swiss Chocolate and will never be, and just because German Chocolate has more milk in it, more than French it isnt worse. Also Saxon Porcelain is better than the French Version."

After he calmed down he said: "So your name is Beox Laged and you are an Trapper?" He had an heavy Saxon accent in French.

"Hmm that is unfortionate that we dont know where the Office is." He was quite sad that nobody knew where the Doctors Office was. Seeing the Frenchman Nudging the Doctor he started to poke the Doctor so that he would wake up.

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Main Street, East Zilch
The Fells Cargo men

Johan Zimmermann
Johan was out in his shop, which was attached to his house on First Street, building stools, which were quite popular in East Zilch for some reason, when he heard shouting and a commotion coming from Main Street. His eldest son was helping him. Johan said,"Jakob, stay here. I'm going to go see what's going on over on Main."
Jakob nodded, and said,"Yes, Pa." Johan grabbed his toolbox, and hurriedly threw in a claw hammer, a square, his brace and bit, jack plane, handsaw, and a ruler. He walked over to Main street, where he saw several wagons stopped in the middle of the street. The guy riding shotgun was yelling about how they were haulin' gold, and the Marshall was talkin' to him. Johan approached the wagon, and said,"What's broken? I'm a carpenter."

The men trying to fix the busted wagon wheel were trying to hold themselves together. But it had been a long day already that seemed to fly by like that. And while the sun was still decently high in the afternoon, it wasn't going to stay up there forever. So when Johan Zimmermann the carpenter came up with a nice handy offer, the Fells Cargo men nodded in appreciation. "We got a busted wagon wheel here. With this and the horse with the broken leg? Looks like we're stayin' here tonight. But if yer a carpenter, you might do. Ever fix wheels? If so, we may need you to try to take this busted wheel to your shop and try to fix it up. If we can leave by tomorrow, that would be just swell. We'd pay you, of course."

Main Street
Sigmund von Schoppenhauer

As Sigmung walked out of the Saloon he faced an certain Scene on the Mainstreet, he still had an smile because of the Devils Blood and an Bullethole in his Hat from the Stranger. Looking around he had no smile anymore, no amount of Devils Blood could make him smile now, before and behind him laid Scenes. Behind him an Drunk Person shoots holes into the Tables and Bottles, the Saloon Owner left and an Hord of Drunk Men were dancing the Thriller to get more ingredients, behind the counter was an mess since the Drunk one shot a bottle full of red liquid from an Shelf onto the floor. To his right he still saw these Wagons from hell were the Physics dont align, someone makes an dust Cloud and is whining and Mister Potato [refering to Tater Frye] was trying to heal an Horse. To his left he saw an man talking to another man clothed in Fur´s and Leathers, beneath them lied another man as he could not imagine an even crazier scene to see a bunch of UFO´s attack East Zilch! in front of him were someone dressed as an Inconquista was making an mess with the Mail and was yelling at the Mayors office, this man was of course sitting on an Pony. As he looked into the distance he saw an bright red Wagon just standing there... menacingly! He looked like the person you would try to calm down but fail, right now.

"Alright then, de Crepe is happening here? No really Wah?"

Tater Frye heard the man's question as he was finishing his examination of the horse. He turned to look at the man, distinctly out of place in this place. He was the kind of man that wore a suit and not chaps. Tater wondered who he might be. Tater just called out to him, "Well, feller, these Fells Cargo wagons had a bit of a problem, and kinda broke down. Then, I guess the marshall took care of that bad man in the mask up there, and don't ask me what's happenin' inside Miss Sarah's. There were some gunshots a little bit ago, but there doesn't seem to be anyone hurt, 's'far as I can tell..." Tater purposely tried to ignore the Spaniard who couldn't blow a bugle, got on his horse backwards, and wanted a group to follow him for the salvation of East Zilch. He and the medicine man who had just rolled into town too.

Speaking back to the man in the suit, Tater said, "And forgive me, but yer not from around these parts, are you, mister?"

But as the men with the carpenter were talking, Tater overheard and something crossed over his mind that they needed to know. So he walked up to them. He had been going to tell them the state of their poor horse anyway. But now, there was somethin' else he had to say. A small frown crossed Tater's mouth. He went up to the men, begged their pardon for intruding on their conversation, and then said, "I was coming to tell you about your horse. Leg's broken. She won't be riding any time soon. But I overheard what you were just sayin' about trying to leave tomorrow. And I beg your pardon again, but you do realize that won't work. Today's Saturday. Why, you can't ride off tomorrow. Tomorrow's the Sabbath. No work on the Sabbath day. You need to come to church. We have church tomorrow, and everybody comes. So you're gonna have to come too. We're good Christian folk here. So you're gonna have to wait more than just one day."

Try as they might like to get out of it, it seemed like the town's mind was set. They were going to need to hole up here at least a few nights. And business with the carpenter and the horse owners in town who'd be willing to sell them a new horse might go a lot easier if they sucked it up and went to church the next morning too. Tater told them the time, and then said, "And we've got a really good preacher too. You'll love it."

After exchanging uneasy looks, the men said they'd be there...

---

A little distance away on Main Street
Beaux Lagged

Main Street
Daniel von Gerk

Daniel who noticed the Man just now had wondered where the Doctor was, as it turned out he was dragging him. But he also had some questions but his back had started to hurt again.

"Oh mein Kreuz... do you know where the Doctors office is? If he really is the Doctor as you said then we need more help, I found him by the Wagons lying there on the floor looked like heat Syncope to me but I am not an Doctor, and I don't know where the Doctors is..."

He inspected the Strange man who hadn't even break into a sweat with all the Leathers on him, so he was pretty much impressed and said: "Also what is your name Mister Minister?"

As Daniel spoke, still bent over the passed out doctor he had been dragging, Beaux's mind took in not only what he said, but reading enough between the lines, also took in what he did not say. Beaux was quite skilled at that. However, some people call that 'not listening' and 'putting your own thoughts into someone else's mind.' To Beaux, it was the same thing, just like the difference when someone pronounces it "bléu" and someone else pronounces it "blèu."

The thing that stood out most to the French trapper were the two words in German! "You ahr German? Ahy am French! You Germans zink you have ah ze best choco-late. But we French know that French choc-olate eez better than German chocolate! And eet eez much better zen 'Hersheys' too!"

That said, the trapper said, "Ahy am Beaux Lagged. Ahy am no meeneester. Ahy catch creeatures and sayle zeir hides!

"But alas. Ahy do not know where ze doctieur has hees offeece." Bending down over the doctor, Beaux tried to nudge him awake, hoping that might help. It sounded like there were some people back there who was needing his services. Too bad the doctor himself was also needing his services. The phrase, "Doctor, heal thyself" came to his mind, but Beaux didn't think it was the time.

---

Mayor's office
Mayor Slick

The conversation with the lowly French trapper taken care of, the Machiavellian mayor was going to try to end the conversation with Karen, so he could get back to his ulterior motives.

Only, that wasn't going to happen right away.

Donald Coyote de la Rancha

The hot sun beat down upon the streets of East Zilch. The ruddy, unpaved roadways bore the weight of a horse and a pony. Donald had hoped for a clip-clop as the two approached the mayor's office, but the United States let him down once again. "What a shame. A lord is supposed to care for his people. While the Lord Mayor lives in riches, the streets aren't even cobbled!"
"Um, sir, I don't think anyone here lives in-"
"Sound the horn, Pedro."
Pedro shrugged and pulled out a bugle. It was dingy and beat-up but supposedly made in Spain. The loyal servant blew and blew, but no sound came out.
"Hand that over!" announced the Coyote. He stuck the lance underneath his armpit to free it up for the added duty. Donald seized the metal scrap and blew until his face was red, to the same effect. Light-headed, overheated and spent, he fell off his horse, bumping is head and carrying himself to the land of Nod.

A crowd had gathered to watch him return to consciousness. He looked around with a mild stupor before clearing his expression. "Oh, yes, right!" Donald stood up. "Now that I have an audience, I would like to declare my intention! Everyone who is interested in the fate and salvation of East Zilch, please follow!"
He stuck his foot up to mount the saddle. He tried a few times, but his arm and legs didn't have the strength to lift him up and over. "Hey, Pedro, would you like to take the horse?"
Pedro's eyes sparkled. "Would I!"
"But I get the nice, comfortable saddle."
"Ugh, fine..."
They switched saddles, still with everyone watching. Donald mounted the pony. "Hyah!"
The pony groaned under the extra weight, what with the armor and lance and all. Still, the equine did its duty, taking its temporary master up to the mayor's office. Donald looked around. "I say, doesn't the mayor have a coat of arms?"
"I don't think so."
"A city seal, then?"
"Sir, it's a backwater Texas town."
"But I have nothing to direct my spear as an insult, then!"
Pedro looked around, and then pointed to a mailbox. "Ah, good work, by loyal servant!" announced the knight.
The Coyote thrust his lance into the open mailbox, skewering several pieces of mail with it. He waved the envelopes' corpses in front of the office windows. "Hello in there! Attention! I am Donald Coyote of the Rancha, here to bring culture and honor to these streets once again! I challenge you to a duel! If I win, I have your daughter's hand in marriage, and I gain control of the city, claiming it on behalf of Madre España! If I lose, you will have my horse and armor!"
"Uh, sir, you never said anything about a daughter..."
Donald looked up at his servant. "Oh, I think it adds a personal touch, don't you think? Puts some stakes in the game." He clenched his fist and flashed a smile to emphasize his point.
"Yes, but you can't have the mayor's daughter as a boon."
"Ah, I see! She must be right hideous, then!" Donald turned back to the mayor's office and called out in a loud voice. "Attention! The terms have changed! If I win, I become the Don of East Zilch, claiming it on behalf of Tia Catalunya! If I lose, I will have your daughter's hand in marriage!"
"No, but the mayor doesn't have-"
"My servant thinks that you don't have the guts to come down and fight me! Prove him wrong, señor don!" He turned his pony around in a circle, lance pointed skyward, trying to drum up support from the people of East Zilch.
The herald called after. "If you have a niece, that works, too!"

Troy glanced over at the idiot who was trying to claim this town for Spain. He begins laughing out loud at the man's stupidity before calming down, "You must be a complete idiot if you think you can claim this town for Spain. This American territory and will stay American territory so unless you wish to be arrested by yours truly for inciting rebellion against the US Government then I suggest you go home immediately."

Donald Coyote de la Rancha "Oye, Señor Alcalde!" the Spanish knight announced. "The call to duel is still on! If you have any honor at all, come face me, coward!"
He backed up his pony and trotted towards the marshal. "You have no idea how happy you've made me! Going to jail for the sake of Madre España fulfills my plans, hopes, and dreams so thoroughly." He dismounted, dropped his weapons, and raised his arms together, wrists connected. "Please, take me away!"
Pedro raised his hand in protest and then remembered that he was given authority over the ranch, should anything happen to the master. He nodded and called out. "Yes, his imprisonment would surely benefit us all. Off to prison to do your duty, master!"

There was a commotion outside his office building door. Some guy with the worst possible fashion sense had destroyed his mailbox and damaged some of the letters he was sending! Mayor Slick was outraged. Why, that might have been really bad if any of those letters had his super secret plans of world domination general scrupulousness in them. As it was, these were just notes to his Auntie Gertrude from back east, sending some word not because he liked the old hag, but because he wanted to still be in her will when she died. And now he'd have to write them again! The fury!

But what this badly dressed man was saying would have been laughable on any other day. Challenged to a duel? Mother Spain?! His daughter?!? Mayor Jeremiah Slick didn't have a daughter. But all of a sudden, he had an idea. And despite how the marshall was doing his part and taking the madman to jail, the mayor couldn't let him leave without addressing his challenge. He raised up the heavy glass of a nearby window and looked out.

"Hello there. Mr. Coyote, you say. Don Coyote? Well, Mr. Coyote, I am the mayor here. Mayor Jeremiah Slick. And I can tell you that we're in good hands right now. But if you were wanting to take over the city, we have a system. We have elections every four years. And whoever first announces that he wants to run, and then wins the most votes in the election, gets to be the mayor. We just had our election last year. So you have to wait roughly three more years before you can try to run for mayor...

"But if you'd like? I don't think anybody else in town has your name. So as far as I know? You are the only 'don' here. And I will gladly acknowledge that to all people, that you sir, are 'the don' of East Zilch. Of course, this is a purely honorary title with no transfer of authority, et cetera, et cetera. But the prestige is all yours!

"Now, Marshall, please take Mr. Coyote where you were planning..."

Karen did not stop after the ol' rusty furry French trapper had left. Oh, no. She griped and she grilled, she accosted and cajoled, why, she even stamped her booted foot a few times! She ran her mouth not 'till it was dry but 'till every little thing, no matter how much of a mite it happened to be, that was negative and in her realm of knowledge was laid before the local manager mayor.

Then, just as she was finished, a the most threatening, dastardly, speak-to-the-mayor thing happened: some old coot attacked the mailbox. This was her husband's career this shamefully clashing, mailbox-smashing lunatic was goin' after! To make matters worse, slippery, slimy Slick was just standin' there like some squeaky, stinky sock while the very thing nobody expected was happening right outside the door. It was the Spanish Inquisition all over again, yes siree, and it involved some sort of pompous man on horseback with a sort of...lance...object and--

Was he challengin' the mayor to a duel?

Now this was the most unacceptable, inappropriate thing Karen had seen all mornin', and she was havin' none of it--even more than none of it, since she would have none of that devil's drink known as alcohol, and this was easily worse than alcohol. This was a practically stampedin' Spanish Inquisition! And Karen had not expected a Spanish Inquisition.

Enraged by the audacity of this loon, Karen stored out of the mayor's office and drew her two super secret revolvers, loaded, which she aimed at the Spanish Inquisitor. That would get him to listen.

"YOU, SIR!" she bellowed, deploying her angriest Karen voice imaginable up to that date, "ARE IN VIOLATION OF SEVERAL LAWS DOWN HERE! IN FACT, YOUR BEHAVIOR IS SO OUTLANDISHLY INAPPROPRIATE THAT IT BEHOOVES ALL OF US IF YOU HEAD OVER TO WEST ZILCH! OR GO BACK TO WHERE YOU CAME FROM, SO HELP ME, AND SO HELP THE MAYOR! MAYOR SLICK WILL ACCEPT NONE OF THIS, AND YOU, SIR, ARE GOING INSIDE WITH ME RIGHT NOW! FURTHERMORE, MY HUSBAND IS THE POSTMASTER, SO YOU ARE DESTROYING THE LIVELIHOOD OF MY FAMILY AS WELL AS FEDERAL PROPERTY! YOU ARE TO GO STRAIGHT TO JAIL AND THINK ABOUT EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR I WILL GO TO YOUR LITTLE HOMETOWN HAMLET AND SPEAK TO THEIR MAYOR AND POSSIBLY YOUR MOTHER!!!!!"

[Voxija]

Doc Festy thought it was the wrong time to hawk his wares. Although he'd yelled as loud as he can, the good people of East Zilch were ignoring him in favor of other problems. This'd never happened before. He'd seen a woman scream about wanting to see the manager or something.

Doc Festy was going to wait until the day after tomorrow. Tomorrow was the Lord's Day, after all. Despite being a charlatan and a quack, Festy was devout. Doc was probably going to go to the church in East Zilch. Get to know the inhabitants better, maybe.

"So Along," Doc Festy said. "Try again on Monday?" Only Doc said it like Mun-dee. Doc Festy imagined his pet snake nodding her head in agreement. "Perfect!"

Doc rolled out again. He was gonna camp outside the town. He'd done such things on many occasions, and besides, he felt like even the Texan scrub, with bandits and gunslingers, was safer than that saloon. As Doc set up camp, he hummed a poem in iambic pentameter that he'd heard from a spooky cowboy one October.

Rootin' tootin' toil and shootin'
Fire burn and cowboy bootin'
Eye of newt and spicy beans
Toe of frog and denim jeans
Whiskey, grits, and demon spittle
Tossed into my iron griddle
With the tannin' of our hides
Somethin' wicked this way rides

And with that, Doc Festy got ready for a time skip.

[Talchyon]

The Next Morning

East Zilch Church

Being a religious minded town, the citizens of East Zilch more or less went to church regularly. Some went to say their prayers and sing their praises. Some went to hear the preaching from the Word. Others went because they were socially starved, and this gave at least some opportunity to bump elbows and hobnob with others.

The church building was a mighty fine one, too. Built just 15 years ago by many of the men in town, it had served the people well. Their current pastor, the Rev. Horatio Borkmann, had been there for about 4 years. He assisted with the town school on weekdays, made visits to people in their homes, and was one of the smartest people most of the towns folk had ever met. There was only one problem though. Rev. Borkmann wasn't known for his communication skills, and relating to people wasn't one of his spiritual gifts. That could be proven by how well most people understood what he was preaching week after week. Still, they figured, some churches didn't have pastors, and Pastor Borkmann meant well, so they were fine with him.

That morning, the pastor stood in the pulpit and was giving a very detailed treatment of one of the doctrines of the church that most people had never heard of.

"..The homoousiousness of the Triune Godhead proves the exegetical inquiry into this narrative from Sacred Writ; namely, that having no concupiscence, the sanctified exinanition of the Son by His humiliation lays the foundation for you too, people of God, to do likewise. And this does not happen ex opere operato! Heavens no! Divine monergism forbids that! Rather, this foundation by His exinanition happens for you through the mediation of the 2nd person of the Godhead in His atonement ex nihilo into the temporal estate. And from that, we know the ecclesiastical rendering of this by our vocatio..."

After the sermon, Tater Frye nudged one of the Fells Cargo men next to him and pointed out that the choir was going to sing soon. The Fells Cargo men had spent the night in East Zilch. Their wagons were safely parked (behind the Sheriff's office), out of Main Street, and everyone in town knew it. They were getting antsy about leaving. Because of the situation, the Fells Cargo men had decided to hire a few extra locals who might want to help with security. Like that guy with the goat. He had seemed eager enough.

Sheriff Norder stood up with the choir and prepared to sing their prepared song, "The Heavenly Bliss of Prayer." The sheriff enjoyed singing in the choir as their lead tenor. He was called the lead tenor, not because the church choir director gave him any solos, or even because he had the best singing voice. Rather, Sheriff Norder was the lead tenor because he always came in about a beat and a half too early before the rest of the choir. Still, it was a nice hobby for him. Music helped take his mind off more serious thoughts, like how Buckaroo Bunjin was in jail.

After the service was done, the people shook hands with the preacher as the left the church. Tater Frye shook the man's hand with a polite word of thanks, and met up with the Fells Cargo men. They asked him, "Does your pastor always preach like that?"

Tater smiled big and said, "Sure thing, fellas. You kind of get to learn where he's coming from after you hear him a while. Like today. I got the message today about how we're supposed to love God. It sure is helpful." Tater didn't notice the polite coughing and eye rolling of some of the wagoneers in their company.

One of the drivers said, "Ok. Now, we went to church. How soon do you think we can get our busted wheel fixed and get us a new horse or two?"

Tater shook his head, and said, "Sorry, fellas. Today's still the Sabbath day. We're not supposed to work today. That means no one's allowed to fix wagon wheels today either. You'll just have to wait another day."

Another day! The Fells Cargo men were furious! They had to get moving! But nothing could be done. East Zilch was a pretty religious town, after all. And they weren't gonna be working today. That just meant that their wagons were going to sit there, and they'd need to hire some people to help keep watch over their wagons - and the gold in it.

With that in mind, the Fells Cargo men asked the pastor if he would make a public service announcement now that the service was done, that they were hiring local people who might help keep an eye on their wagons. The pastor, however, got suspicious because that sounded too much like work. Chagrined, the wagoneers left him and went back to their group... However, many of the people who were coming out of church heard that they were looking for some extra security. And who knows? Certainly there'd be at least someone or a few someones who might be curious enough about the gold in those wagons to take them up on it...

[Solarampa]

The Arizona Ranger finally arrived at the town after 4 days of riding. He looked at it and thought that it would be a nice place to settle down. He got some strange looks but he was used to that and headed to the hotel to get a drink and a place to sleep. When he got to the hotel he went up to the first employee he saw and asked for water and a room. While waiting he ignored any person who tried to talk to him. He wondered if the Sheriff position was empty and he would be able to take it.

[Voxija]

THIS POST MAY BE EDITED AT THE OP'S WISH

Henry "Doc" Festy

Doc Festy listened in rapture to the priest. His sermons were awesome! Sure, he didn't understand half of what Borkmann said, but that was also true back in Bawstuhn. At least the people of East Zilch were religious, god-fearin' folk just like the quack. Doc never felt any conflict between his religious beliefs and his habit of scamming others. After all, Festy believed that the Lord helped those who helped themselves. That was a belief Doc picked up in the West.

The choral singing happened. By golly, it was terrible! It was even worse than the choirboys back in Bawstuhn. Doc Festy was one of 'em, and it had gone just fine, except that Doc was a bad singer. But, lil' Festy was at least better than that sheriff.

It was only at the end of the service, when Doc Festy was streaming out of church with the townsfolk, that he realized: "By George Washington's old undergarments! That wasn't a Catholic service!"

Sarah Stein

The saloon owner woke up early on this most sacred of days. Not to go to church, but to make whisky and beer. Sarah Stein* wasn't religious at all. Sure, she was raised Jewish, but Sarah, above all else, was pragmatic. She worked on Saturday, the Sabbath day, because East Zilch people wanted alcohol on Saturday. She worked on Sunday, a normal day, because Injuns or pagans or the odd atheist would want alcohol on Sunday.

The bar was deserted. Sarah sighed. No Injuns or pagans or atheists. No one to buy her drinks. Yet. This was still the morning after all. Them East Zilch folks'll probably all be streamin' into Stein Saloon after church. That was probably hypocritical, but Sarah Stein didn't know much about that sort of thing. Thankfully, after five years the townspeople were respectful of Stein's working hours, but in those first couple of months, it seemed everyone was tryin' to get Sarah to go to church.

Sarah Stein waited for her customers. Surely there'll be a few. Surely.

*if anyone was wonderin' 'bout Sarah Stein's initials, this RP's in 1857.

[Solarampa]

Sarah Stein

The saloon owner woke up early on this most sacred of days. Not to go to church, but to make whisky and beer. Sarah Stein* wasn't religious at all. Sure, she was raised Jewish, but Sarah, above all else, was pragmatic. She worked on Saturday, the Sabbath day, because East Zilch people wanted alcohol on Saturday. She worked on Sunday, a normal day, because Injuns or pagans or the odd atheist would want alcohol on Sunday.

The bar was deserted. Sarah sighed. No Injuns or pagans or atheists. No one to buy her drinks. Yet. This was still the morning after all. Them East Zilch folks'll probably all be streamin' into Stein Saloon after church. That was probably hypocritical, but Sarah Stein didn't know much about that sort of thing. Thankfully, after five years the townspeople were respectful of Stein's working hours, but in those first couple of months, it seemed everyone was tryin' to get Sarah to go to church.

Sarah Stein waited for her customers. Surely there'll be a few. Surely.

*if anyone was wonderin' 'bout Sarah Stein's initials, this RP's in 1857.

The Ranger would say,” Hey over here,” to get Sarah’s attention. He was all by himself in the corner of the the bar so he understood why she didn’t notice him. He was cleaning his gun after a run in with some bandits a day ago and well he had some blood in the gun, but he was worried he would seem intimidating so he unloaded all the bullets and placed them amnesty his gun. He was trying to talk as least as possible and only get what was necessary... for now

[Danubian Peoples]

NOTE: WILL REDACT OR EDIT POST IF NECESSARY.
Billy With the Kid
East Zilch Church, East Zilch

Billy sat on one of the church aisles and listened in on the pastor's ramblings, a colorful cast of characters also parttaking in this religious activity. Billy's lap was noticeably goat-less; he'd gotten into a debate over whether or not he could bring Jimmy over for Mass, an arguement which he had evidently lost. Where Jimmy would be, Billy's hands were instead, gripping at the cloth of his pants and writhing and shaking. The look on his face was one of sheer discomfort.

"Gosh-dangit Mister Porkmen, could 'ya talk about somethin' any less boring? I just want to get to the part with the crackers and wine!" These words, though quiet, slipped out of Billy's teeth, and were enough to draw attetion from nearby. A churchgoer seated next to him turned in perplexion. Billy merely turned back and deflected the feeling, before returning to his idle position, shaking in boredom.

A criminal needs his God every now and again I suppose. Yeah, I think I might just die today, if only to crawl through those heavenly gates and steal somethin' from the Lord himself! Yeah.. steal.. As Billy followed this train of thought, his head turned to meet Tater Fyre, conversing with one of the Fells Cargo men in another aisle. With this, a sudden curiosity shot up Billy's system. He listened with intent on the conversation, his attention now diverted from the pastor's boring prose on, something. "Security... man with the goat..." went the two. Billy's aging ears managed to pick up on the gist of the conversation.

By the time the service was over, Billy looked into the middle distance with devilish intent. Very close by was the 'bears' he had so long awaited, and now, they were going to grant him stewardship over his catch! He stormed back to his place, his legs moving with such speed that his tattered pants turned into a blur.

---

Billy's Place, East Zilch

"You will not believe how great today's service was Jimmy! We've just earned ourselves the perfect opportunity to stage our master plan!" Billy entered his house in an ecstatic frenzy. He took a great big breath as he stomped into his dwellings, mold be damned. Jimmy ran up to his side, and the two took a seat in a worn-out couch.

"I thought this plan of ours was doomed when we failed to form a heist crew, but it appears that the bear handlers from For Knocks were none the wiser! Now they're lookin' for potential security, and they're even considerin' me!" *Bleat from Jimmy* "What any of this has to do with the service istelf? Not much actually, Porkman waxed about some hummus I think, and I managed to snack on a few extra Jesus wafers, but it was pretty boring. What we have here though... hahaha... hahahah... hahaHAHA- ack!"

Billy's house echoed with maniacal laughter... and the occasional stop for a breath.

[Voxija]

The Ranger would say,” Hey over here,” to get Sarah’s attention. He was all by himself in the corner of the the bar so he understood why she didn’t notice him. He was cleaning his gun after a run in with some bandits a day ago and well he had some blood in the gun, but he was worried he would seem intimidating so he unloaded all the bullets and placed them amnesty his gun. He was trying to talk as least as possible and only get what was necessary... for now

Sarah Stein finally noticed the man in the corner. She immediately had him pegged for a lone wolf who thinks he's better than anyone else. Those sorts of folks were all too common, not just in the West but in everywhere else.

Stein stared at the dude placing all his bullets in his gun. Didn't he know gun safety? This reminded her way too much of Juan Swayne. It had taken a lot of trouble to get rid of Juan Swayne. Mostly elbow grease.

Sarah pulled out her knife and strode cautiously toward the Arizona Ranger. "I unnerstand you probably need a room at this saloon. I'll take you upstairs. But be careful with that gun, and if you try anything stupid, I'll cut you."

[Danubian Peoples]

NOTE: WILL REDACT OR EDIT POST IF NECESSARY.
Billy With the Kid
Billy's Place, East Zilch

Billy stood mightily in front of a tall mirror, both hands on his hip, and a confident smirk on his face. Jimmy pranced around at his feet, and was running circles around one of his boots. The mirror, though old, was still more than reflective enough to reveal Billy's appearance to himself. He took off his hat, exposing a large bald spot marred with marks and wrinkles, that made what was left of his head hair stand out like a monk's tonsure. His smirk disappeared at the sight of his exposed head in the mirror.

"Guess the hat'll stay where it is," said Billy. "Can't be showin' that off to the Fresco wagon folks. As for the rest of my getup..." Billy rattled off these words as he put his hat back on. 'Alrighty then, what would I need to wear in order to look semi-decent? Gotta land this security job after all, and they say the first impression is everythin'! Granted, this'll likely be the only impression, because I ain't countin' on guardin' those bears for too long.."

Billy opened up a closet adjacent to the mirror, parting its wooden doors, and revealing a most limited wardrobe. He browsed through three sets of shabby clothes, all of which very similar in condition to his current attire, and a single spare hat with a hole shaped suspiciously like a set of goat jaws. He gestured uncertainty to Jimmy before swinging the closet doors shut, and going on his way.

"Yeah, I think I look best this way," said Billy as he walked towards his front door. "Old Billy the Kid is gettin' hired today, East Zilch!"

---

Main Street, East Zilch
Billy strolled down Main Street, looking like a champion, about as much of a champion as he could look like that is. He flaunted his attire, despite the fact that it was the same attire he was wearing yesterday, and it was not known if he washed his clothes in anything but goat spittle. Regardless, he strode confidently towards the sheriff's office, earning looks in his general direction as he strolled towards his destination. Jimmy was of course, by his side, and the eccentric pair quickly covered ground.

When at last he arrived just in front of the sherrif's office, he quickly blew a raspberry in its general direction, his old tongue waving through the air like an emaciated serpent, before running to the back of the office and meeting the 'bears' and their 'wranglers' at last.

Bear wranglers, he thought. And yet they're some of the most gullibile folks I've ever seen in town! The look on their faces once I'm down with this! Normally my reputation as a feared ne'er do well precedes me, but the naiveté of these suckers is going to let pull the fastest one of them East Zilch has ever seen! Sinister thoughts aside, Billy pulled up to the Fells Cargo people and opened with an outstretched arm. "I'm Billy, and this 'ere is Jimmy. Pleased to meet you. I heard you fellas were looking for some security?"

[Stollberg-Stolberg]

Main Street, East Zilch
Daniel von Gerk

Main Street, East Zilch
Billy strolled down Main Street, looking like a champion, about as much of a champion as he could look like that is. He flaunted his attire, despite the fact that it was the same attire he was wearing yesterday, and it was not known if he washed his clothes in anything but goat spittle. Regardless, he strode confidently towards the sheriff's office, earning looks in his general direction as he strolled towards his destination. Jimmy was of course, by his side, and the eccentric pair quickly covered ground.

When at last he arrived just in front of the sherrif's office, he quickly blew a raspberry in its general direction, his old tongue waving through the air like an emaciated serpent, before running to the back of the office and meeting the 'bears' and their 'wranglers' at last.

Daniel, now walking into the General Direction of the Sheriffs Office, wanted to file some reports, because some people stole more Cogworks from the Bell Tower on which he was still working on. He was lucky that he didn´t send the Cargo Subscription Documents Order [short for CS:DO] to New Mershall, the nearest Town with an Cogwork Factory, lying 55 miles north of West Zilch. As he neared the Office he saw Billy with James enter, he always forgot the name of the Goat, this Top-Notch Establishment. He remembered the one time he gave Billy 10 Dollars because he kept knocking his Hat of.

When he entered the Chamber, he saw Billy negotiating something with the employees of Fells Cargo TM, thinking that Billy would now start an honest living by getting an job he was motivated. With the answer of the dissapearing Cogworks he asked Billy following Questions.
"Hey Billy, do you know who stole the Cogworks from the Belltower? They keep on dissapering since that one rusted, Rusted Cogwoks.... doesn´t that sound like an good Tabletop Game or Story Idea?"

[Danubian Peoples]

Billy With the Kid
Back of the Sheriff's Office, East Zilch

Main Street, East Zilch
Daniel von Gerk

Daniel, now walking into the General Direction of the Sheriffs Office, wanted to file some reports, because some people stole more Cogworks from the Bell Tower on which he was still working on. He was lucky that he didn´t send the Cargo Subscription Documents Order [short for CS:DO] to New Mershall, the nearest Town with an Cogwork Factory, lying 55 miles north of West Zilch. As he neared the Office he saw Billy with James enter, he always forgot the name of the Goat, this Top-Notch Establishment. He remembered the one time he gave Billy 10 Dollars because he kept knocking his Hat of.

When he entered the Chamber, he saw Billy negotiating something with the employees of Fells Cargo TM, thinking that Billy would now start an honest living by getting an job he was motivated. With the answer of the dissapearing Cogworks he asked Billy following Questions.
"Hey Billy, do you know who stole the Cogworks from the Belltower? They keep on dissapering since that one rusted, Rusted Cogwoks.... doesn´t that sound like an good Tabletop Game or Story Idea?"

Billy looked on curiously as the well-dressed Deutschlander from Deutschland decided to dig into him on disappeared cogs from a dilapidated bell tower. One hand still outstretched to the Fells Cargo folks, the half-handshake quickly turned into a nonchalant wave, gesturing to the Fells Cargo men that he had another thing to attend to, in the shape of this surprisingly good-looking German.

"Cogworks? I know absolutely nothin' 'bout these clock-clerks or pap-perks. I'm a criminal-er.. was a criminal first and everythin' else second, this cogworks stuff decidedly in the latter category, Mister Greek. Not that you're actually Greek that is..pretty sure you're just a Dutchman with a funny surname, like Flew Eggs. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to score a hei-I mean job, yes. Tryin' to work my way up in a good American legal way!"

Beads of sweat formed on Billy's face. Whether it was nervousness and worry at endagering his own master plan, or the fact that he was in the middle of blazing hot Texas, no one knows. Perhaps not even himself. What is known is that Jimmy the goat proceded to circle his legs and catch the sweat drops that fell from the rim of his hat, a sort of 'goat bath.' At this, Billy muttered: "Well that's new. Apologies Mister Greek, for my, unhelpfulness at your inquiry. Anyway, back to where we were," says Billy, his attention returned to the Fells Cargo men and their wagon.

[Islamic Republic e Jariri]

Deputy Sheriff Booth

Back of the Sherrif's Office

''Farewell remorse, all good to me is lost. Evil, be thou my good,'' the Deputy Sheriff quoted a well known poem from centuries past and chuckled callously to announce his presence at the Sheriff's office, his voice refined to captivate a theatre's audience.

Given his moniker of 'Devil-Eyed' it may have come as a surprise that Abraham Ford Booth actually kept a semi-regular attendance for Church.

He wanted the townsfolk of East Zilch to know him, that former frontiersman who fought the Mexican army over the Texas where East Zilch resided and how he went on to fight the Yuman in Arizona and California two years later. When he arrived seeking fame and fortune in this town he sought to color himself the most dangerous man in the frontier, a survivor of countless battles where he attainted victory after victory thanks to his unrelenting visciousness. Booth was a man you would desperately want as an ally to avoid the terror of being his enemy - just look at his eyes, cold and dark with a narrow gaze that could freeze the blood of a wild bear.

All an act of course for in reality the man was terrified of fighting let alone killing and was only desperately getting by on the frontier as a survey scout and messenger before catching a big break at East Zilch where some guillible Sheriff bought into his practiced theatrics and appointed him deputy to help manage the less than savoury aspects of upholding the law in this wild town.

Sitting at the back office with his feet leaned against his desk he carefully groomed his moustache with his handy pocket comb and then twirled it with a dastardly grin. An easy opportunity for making some money had come about with the Fells Cargo men. With his intimidating looks and title as deputy he intended to exert influence to his favor.

''Course you will need me,'' he told the Fells Cargo men as an authoritarian whose words were not up for debate.

''This is official bussiness that I'll have to cover for Sheriff Norder. As for payment I expect rexpect...'' he caught his tongue in a twist and spat immediately.

''Respect. You know who I am and what they call me. I'm worth more than your run-of-the-mill plebian.''

He made sure his scary eyes were showing and spared a glance towards the odd man with the goat.

Who in Sam Hill let that thing in here? I should write a ballad 'bout em... something like...

Billy and his Goat... came up a Miner's Moat, buildin' there a Blue Boat and make'n their way up to the Chocolate Coast - wait that don't make no sense.

[American Pere Housh]

Deputy Sheriff Booth

Back of the Sherrif's Office

''Farewell remorse, all good to me is lost. Evil, be thou my good,'' the Deputy Sheriff quoted a well known poem from centuries past and chuckled callously to announce his presence at the Sheriff's office, his voice refined to captivate a theatre's audience.

Given his moniker of 'Devil-Eyed' it may have come as a surprise that Abraham Ford Booth actually kept a semi-regular attendance for Church.

He wanted the townsfolk of East Zilch to know him, that former frontiersman who fought the Mexican army over the Texas where East Zilch resided and how he went on to fight the Yuman in Arizona and California two years later. When he arrived seeking fame and fortune in this town he sought to color himself the most dangerous man in the frontier, a survivor of countless battles where he attainted victory after victory thanks to his unrelenting visciousness. Booth was a man you would desperately want as an ally to avoid the terror of being his enemy - just look at his eyes, cold and dark with a narrow gaze that could freeze the blood of a wild bear.

All an act of course for in reality the man was terrified of fighting let alone killing and was only desperately getting by on the frontier as a survey scout and messenger before catching a big break at East Zilch where some guillible Sheriff bought into his practiced theatrics and appointed him deputy to help manage the less than savoury aspects of upholding the law in this wild town.

Sitting at the back office with his feet leaned against his desk ee carefully groomed his moustache with his handy pocket comb and then twirled it with a dastardly grin. An easy opportunity for making some money had come about with the Fells Cargo men. With his intimidating looks and title as deputy he intended to exert influence to his favor.

''Course you will need me,'' he told the Fells Cargo men as an authoritarian whose words were not up for debate.

''This is official bussiness that I'll have to cover for Sheriff Norder. As for payment I expect rexpect...'' he caught his tongue in a twist and spat immediately.

''Respect. You know who I am and what they call me. I'm worth more than your run-of-the-mill plebian.''

He made sure his scary eyes were showing and spared a glance towards the odd man with the goat.

Who in Sam Hill let that thing in here? I should write a ballad 'bout em... something like...

Billy and his Goat... came up a Miner's Moat, buildin' there a Blue Boat and make'n their way up to the Chocolate Coast - wait that don't make no sense.

US Marshal Troy Eichmann walks up to the Fells Cargo men and the deputy sheriff who was trying to act tough but failed miserably. He nodded his head to each man before speaking, "Good morning boys. Deputy, to get respect, you have to earn it. If you think you can intimidate these boys here then think again. Because of what they are carrying, this wagon falls under federal jurisdiction which means they fall under my protection as a US Marshal. Now if you will excuse me,I will be off." Troy walks away from the three men.

A few minutes later
Sarah Stein's Saloon

Troy walks up to the bar, "Ms. Stein, a shot of whiskey if you would please?" He glances at each person in the Saloon before noticing a man sitting in the corner loading his gun. Troy hears Sarah threatening to cut the man if he isn't careful with his gun. Troy smirks at the man, "I would listen to her mister. If you attempt to shoot her then you will give me no choice but to shoot you myself."

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Them Folk of East Zilch do Not Work on the Sabbath

Karen, perturbed and disturbed by these sketchy Fells Cargo folk, and horrified that they would need to hire some townies to watch over their disgraceful loot (for such exorbitant material wealth was, in the eyes of the Father, a sin), decided to take the matter into her own hands because the Deputy Sheriff himself was involved in this little scheme. People around here were so faithless as to seek work on the Sabbath, and right after a sermon, no less, that she was 'bout ready to up and keel over from the sheer audacity of it all.

"Excuse me, I beg your pardon," she huffed, sidling up to the Deputy Sheriff and the old tacky, wacky, goat-lickin', finger-stickin' fella who went by Billy something or other. "You are seeking out work on the Lord's Day, and this is by all accounts a grave sin. It is in your best interests to wait at least until tomorrow to pursue such a thing. And you," she was addressin' the slimy Fells Cargo chap now, "are polluting our town with your sinful wagons with things that will lead us all to the Devil. You should be makin' yourself scarce and prayin' to the Lord Above on this here day, that he will have mercy on your souls for the wicked things you are forcing onto us."

[Islamic Republic e Jariri]

Deputy Sheriff Booth

Back of Sheriff's Office

Deputy Sheriff Booth

Back of the Sherrif's Office

''Farewell remorse, all good to me is lost. Evil, be thou my good,'' the Deputy Sheriff quoted a well known poem from centuries past and chuckled callously to announce his presence at the Sheriff's office, his voice refined to captivate a theatre's audience.

Given his moniker of 'Devil-Eyed' it may have come as a surprise that Abraham Ford Booth actually kept a semi-regular attendance for Church.

He wanted the townsfolk of East Zilch to know him, that former frontiersman who fought the Mexican army over the Texas where East Zilch resided and how he went on to fight the Yuman in Arizona and California two years later. When he arrived seeking fame and fortune in this town he sought to color himself the most dangerous man in the frontier, a survivor of countless battles where he attainted victory after victory thanks to his unrelenting visciousness. Booth was a man you would desperately want as an ally to avoid the terror of being his enemy - just look at his eyes, cold and dark with a narrow gaze that could freeze the blood of a wild bear.

All an act of course for in reality the man was terrified of fighting let alone killing and was only desperately getting by on the frontier as a survey scout and messenger before catching a big break at East Zilch where some guillible Sheriff bought into his practiced theatrics and appointed him deputy to help manage the less than savoury aspects of upholding the law in this wild town.

Sitting at the back office with his feet leaned against his desk ee carefully groomed his moustache with his handy pocket comb and then twirled it with a dastardly grin. An easy opportunity for making some money had come about with the Fells Cargo men. With his intimidating looks and title as deputy he intended to exert influence to his favor.

''Course you will need me,'' he told the Fells Cargo men as an authoritarian whose words were not up for debate.

''This is official bussiness that I'll have to cover for Sheriff Norder. As for payment I expect rexpect...'' he caught his tongue in a twist and spat immediately.

''Respect. You know who I am and what they call me. I'm worth more than your run-of-the-mill plebian.''

He made sure his scary eyes were showing and spared a glance towards the odd man with the goat.

Who in Sam Hill let that thing in here? I should write a ballad 'bout em... something like...

Billy and his Goat... came up a Miner's Moat, buildin' there a Blue Boat and make'n their way up to the Chocolate Coast - wait that don't make no sense.

US Marshal Troy Eichmann walks up to the Fells Cargo men and the deputy sheriff who was trying to act tough but failed miserably. He nodded his head to each man before speaking, "Good morning boys. Deputy, to get respect, you have to earn it. If you think you can intimidate these boys here then think again. Because of what they are carrying, this wagon falls under federal jurisdiction which means they fall under my protection as a US Marshal. Now if you will excuse me,I will be off." Troy walks away from the three men.

Booth grit his teeth under his forced smile, his face nearly choking red.

One of these days Marshall...

That man Troy Eichmann troubled him. He was especially difficult to fool, sometimes Booth worried the Marshall may have even known the truth of his highly embellished claims and was just waiting for the right moment to expose and ruin him beyond repair. All his plans to become the next Sheriff, for his name to be known and feared across the frontier could come to nothing if he was careless around this one man.

As his chosen nemesis left the building the Deputy composed himself and changed his tact to one more diplomatic.

''Gentleman...'' he addressed the Fells Cargo Men in a tone too regal sounding for any former frontiersman.

''Forgive my bluntness, the years at war have left me lacking certain niceties, especially when concerned with confronting danger and offering
protection. You see I was here on this very land back in '47 when I fought under General Heintzelman against the Mexican army. What I can tell you is -''

Them Folk of East Zilch do Not Work on the Sabbath

"Excuse me, I beg your pardon," she huffed, sidling up to the Deputy Sheriff and the old tacky, wacky, goat-lickin', finger-stickin' fella who went by Billy something or other. "You are seeking out work on the Lord's Day, and this is by all accounts a grave sin. It is in your best interests to wait at least until tomorrow to pursue such a thing. And you," she was addressin' the slimy Fells Cargo chap now, "are polluting our town with your sinful wagons with things that will lead us all to the Devil. You should be makin' yourself scarce and prayin' to the Lord Above on this here day, that he will have mercy on your souls for the wicked things you are forcing onto us."

''Mrs von Stoot, why I heard you'd just recently faced off against the last remnant of the old Conquistadors from centuries past. What mad times we find ourselves in. I'm afraid danger doesn't take a sabbath on Sundays either and while it pains me dearly I will be more than willing to compromise some of my personal piety for the sake of this fine town and its people. Robbers and man-eating bears have no notion of decency, we cannot trust them to rest their foul business on this day or any other day. Some of us have to make the sacrifice for the greater good and I, Abraham Ford Devil-Eyed Booth will sell my very soul to the darkness to protect...''

He felt his throat parch and reached out for a glass of iced orange juice from his desk and took a long sip before letting out a refreshed gasp.

''Pardon that. Damned weather.''

Maybe now he would come across as more amiable to convince the Fells Cargo men to hire him at a higher rate, banking on his exaggerated experience in battle and seemingly selfless willingness to work on a Sunday to get around the issue of this being a federal matter for the Marshall.

[Voxija]

A few minutes later
Sarah Stein's Saloon

Troy walks up to the bar, "Ms. Stein, a shot of whiskey if you would please?" He glances at each person in the Saloon before noticing a man sitting in the corner loading his gun. Troy hears Sarah threatening to cut the man if he isn't careful with his gun. Troy smirks at the man, "I would listen to her mister. If you attempt to shoot her then you will give me no choice but to shoot you myself."

Sarah Stein was glad to serve the US marshal. She began pouring him a shot of plain whisky. Nothing strange in it for this officer (occifer, if you're drudk) of the law, no sir or ma'am. While Stein was pouring it, she heard Troy threaten the ranger dude even further. He was probably thoroughly intimidated by now. Sarah stuck her knife where she usually kept it.

After Sarah Stein handed the whisky to Eichmann, she asked. "So, what's happ'nin around here, Mr. Eich—Eichmann?" She stumbled over the name, since the name Eichmann, to Sarah, was still associated with... the man who tried to cheat her father. "You know I've been holed up in this bar, makin' drinks and keepin' myself busy. For any poor sinners who happened to pass along, see? Anything new in this here town?"

[Solarampa]

The Ranger would say,” Hey over here,” to get Sarah’s attention. He was all by himself in the corner of the the bar so he understood why she didn’t notice him. He was cleaning his gun after a run in with some bandits a day ago and well he had some blood in the gun, but he was worried he would seem intimidating so he unloaded all the bullets and placed them amnesty his gun. He was trying to talk as least as possible and only get what was necessary... for now

Sarah Stein finally noticed the man in the corner. She immediately had him pegged for a lone wolf who thinks he's better than anyone else. Those sorts of folks were all too common, not just in the West but in everywhere else.

Stein stared at the dude placing all his bullets in his gun. Didn't he know gun safety? This reminded her way too much of Juan Swayne. It had taken a lot of trouble to get rid of Juan Swayne. Mostly elbow grease.

Sarah pulled out her knife and strode cautiously toward the Arizona Ranger. "I unnerstand you probably need a room at this saloon. I'll take you upstairs. But be careful with that gun, and if you try anything stupid, I'll cut you."

The Ranger smiled and only said "Thank you and don't worry I am a professional gunslinger," he would slip Sarah the money needed for the room. He headed upstairs to just take a quick power nap and just explore the town after. Once he woke up he decided to take a quick site and see of the town and tried to avoid a consversation with any person. After he was done he went on a ride several miles away from the town to get a cache he hid. The stuff in the cache was 40 more bullets, a small stash of food, water, and a small it of money. While he was riding he encoutnered two bandits and quickly dispatched of them with only two bullets. He took their money while totaled around $15 and some food and decided to head back to the town. He would sit in the bar relaxing deciding if he should celebrate with a drink.

[The republic ofTexas and northern Mexico]

Juan swayne, immediately after shooting up the saloon furniture, decided to waylay a few passerby’s to get a bit of spending money for town. After carefully studying the people in town he decided to try for a naive looking Ranger, who might have been payed recently. Sitting outside of the saloon door, where he was bound be eventually, he waited with his gun in one hand, and a bottle in the other.

[Ameriganastan]

"Hey, palefaces! Guess who is finally out of jail again! Set me up with something strong."

The saloon doors were kicked open by everyone's favorite delusional Irishman, waving his tomahawk around with reckless abandon.

"Yeah, did a few days for trying to bullseye a duck blindfolded. I wound up bullseying Lester Johnson in the thigh. Anyway, let's get hammered!"

[Solarampa]

Juan swayne, immediately after shooting up the saloon furniture, decided to waylay a few passerby’s to get a bit of spending money for town. After carefully studying the people in town he decided to try for a naive looking Ranger, who might have been payed recently. Sitting outside of the saloon door, where he was bound be eventually, he waited with his gun in one hand, and a bottle in the other.

The Ranger would notice the man on the path near the bar. The Ranger saw the man holding a beer bottle on one hand and thought,”Oh just a drunkard,” but he noticed the glint of something in his right hand and when he tried to get a closer look he realized he had a revolver on him. Without any hesitation he would pull out his revolver, but not in sight of the drunkard. He would ride ahead to see what he would do and if he pulled a gun on him he wondered,” Should I get him in the arm or the leg?”

[Danubian Peoples]

Billy With the Kid
Back of the Sheriff's Office, East Zilch

Deputy Sheriff Booth

Back of the Sherrif's Office

''Farewell remorse, all good to me is lost. Evil, be thou my good,'' the Deputy Sheriff quoted a well known poem from centuries past and chuckled callously to announce his presence at the Sheriff's office, his voice refined to captivate a theatre's audience.

Given his moniker of 'Devil-Eyed' it may have come as a surprise that Abraham Ford Booth actually kept a semi-regular attendance for Church.

He wanted the townsfolk of East Zilch to know him, that former frontiersman who fought the Mexican army over the Texas where East Zilch resided and how he went on to fight the Yuman in Arizona and California two years later. When he arrived seeking fame and fortune in this town he sought to color himself the most dangerous man in the frontier, a survivor of countless battles where he attainted victory after victory thanks to his unrelenting visciousness. Booth was a man you would desperately want as an ally to avoid the terror of being his enemy - just look at his eyes, cold and dark with a narrow gaze that could freeze the blood of a wild bear.

All an act of course for in reality the man was terrified of fighting let alone killing and was only desperately getting by on the frontier as a survey scout and messenger before catching a big break at East Zilch where some guillible Sheriff bought into his practiced theatrics and appointed him deputy to help manage the less than savoury aspects of upholding the law in this wild town.

Sitting at the back office with his feet leaned against his desk he carefully groomed his moustache with his handy pocket comb and then twirled it with a dastardly grin. An easy opportunity for making some money had come about with the Fells Cargo men. With his intimidating looks and title as deputy he intended to exert influence to his favor.

''Course you will need me,'' he told the Fells Cargo men as an authoritarian whose words were not up for debate.

''This is official bussiness that I'll have to cover for Sheriff Norder. As for payment I expect rexpect...'' he caught his tongue in a twist and spat immediately.

''Respect. You know who I am and what they call me. I'm worth more than your run-of-the-mill plebian.''

He made sure his scary eyes were showing and spared a glance towards the odd man with the goat.

Who in Sam Hill let that thing in here? I should write a ballad 'bout em... something like...

Billy and his Goat... came up a Miner's Moat, buildin' there a Blue Boat and make'n their way up to the Chocolate Coast - wait that don't make no sense.

At the unexpected arrival of the deputy did Billy react. Attempting to maintain a veneer of confidence as he conversed with the Fells Cargo men, the beads of sweat on his brow intensified as this man of the law approached. He blew a sigh of relief when it turned out that that the Devil-Eyed Deputy was in fact also looking for a job guarding the wagon, and not out and about to stop Billy's criminal antics.

Have to take this into account.. It seems that the ol' Deputy will be 'round these parts when I pull of my ploy.. This is worse than that time I wrestled the King of France!

Them Folk of East Zilch do Not Work on the Sabbath

Karen, perturbed and disturbed by these sketchy Fells Cargo folk, and horrified that they would need to hire some townies to watch over their disgraceful loot (for such exorbitant material wealth was, in the eyes of the Father, a sin), decided to take the matter into her own hands because the Deputy Sheriff himself was involved in this little scheme. People around here were so faithless as to seek work on the Sabbath, and right after a sermon, no less, that she was 'bout ready to up and keel over from the sheer audacity of it all.

"Excuse me, I beg your pardon," she huffed, sidling up to the Deputy Sheriff and the old tacky, wacky, goat-lickin', finger-stickin' fella who went by Billy something or other. "You are seeking out work on the Lord's Day, and this is by all accounts a grave sin. It is in your best interests to wait at least until tomorrow to pursue such a thing. And you," she was addressin' the slimy Fells Cargo chap now, "are polluting our town with your sinful wagons with things that will lead us all to the Devil. You should be makin' yourself scarce and prayin' to the Lord Above on this here day, that he will have mercy on your souls for the wicked things you are forcing onto us."

And then Karen came along. While the Deputy had momentarily spooked the Fells Cargo men and disrupted his attempt at employment with them, Karen's spiel about 'Sad-bat days' ate up his time... time that Billy feared, could be used to connect the dots and find out about his plan! Regardless, he stayed silent, letting the lass finish up so as not to draw suspicion. Granted, he was three generations behind the youngins and went around with a goat, so suspicion of Billy wasn't going to be in short supply anytime soon, time wasted or not.

Deputy Sheriff Booth

Back of the Sherrif's Office

''Farewell remorse, all good to me is lost. Evil, be thou my good,'' the Deputy Sheriff quoted a well known poem from centuries past and chuckled callously to announce his presence at the Sheriff's office, his voice refined to captivate a theatre's audience.

Given his moniker of 'Devil-Eyed' it may have come as a surprise that Abraham Ford Booth actually kept a semi-regular attendance for Church.

He wanted the townsfolk of East Zilch to know him, that former frontiersman who fought the Mexican army over the Texas where East Zilch resided and how he went on to fight the Yuman in Arizona and California two years later. When he arrived seeking fame and fortune in this town he sought to color himself the most dangerous man in the frontier, a survivor of countless battles where he attainted victory after victory thanks to his unrelenting visciousness. Booth was a man you would desperately want as an ally to avoid the terror of being his enemy - just look at his eyes, cold and dark with a narrow gaze that could freeze the blood of a wild bear.

All an act of course for in reality the man was terrified of fighting let alone killing and was only desperately getting by on the frontier as a survey scout and messenger before catching a big break at East Zilch where some guillible Sheriff bought into his practiced theatrics and appointed him deputy to help manage the less than savoury aspects of upholding the law in this wild town.

Sitting at the back office with his feet leaned against his desk ee carefully groomed his moustache with his handy pocket comb and then twirled it with a dastardly grin. An easy opportunity for making some money had come about with the Fells Cargo men. With his intimidating looks and title as deputy he intended to exert influence to his favor.

''Course you will need me,'' he told the Fells Cargo men as an authoritarian whose words were not up for debate.

''This is official bussiness that I'll have to cover for Sheriff Norder. As for payment I expect rexpect...'' he caught his tongue in a twist and spat immediately.

''Respect. You know who I am and what they call me. I'm worth more than your run-of-the-mill plebian.''

He made sure his scary eyes were showing and spared a glance towards the odd man with the goat.

Who in Sam Hill let that thing in here? I should write a ballad 'bout em... something like...

Billy and his Goat... came up a Miner's Moat, buildin' there a Blue Boat and make'n their way up to the Chocolate Coast - wait that don't make no sense.

US Marshal Troy Eichmann walks up to the Fells Cargo men and the deputy sheriff who was trying to act tough but failed miserably. He nodded his head to each man before speaking, "Good morning boys. Deputy, to get respect, you have to earn it. If you think you can intimidate these boys here then think again. Because of what they are carrying, this wagon falls under federal jurisdiction which means they fall under my protection as a US Marshal. Now if you will excuse me,I will be off." Troy walks away from the three men.

Around the same time the astute Miss Stoot came and spoke out with fervor against the Fells Cargo folks, a Marshall came in and began lecturing the Deputy on manners. With the arrival of yet another man of the law, the beads turned to drops turned to a steady stream of sweat that fell from the rim of Billy's hat. Taking notice, the Fells Cargo Men momentarily diverted their attention from Karen to gawk at the watery Billy.

"Umm, it's kinda, hot, 'ere in Texas right now, no? Feels like it to me right now!" reassures Billy to the Fells Cargo Men. After the Marshall departed, Billy allowed the Deputy to wear his throat out expositing his greatness towards the Fells Cargo Men while also conversing with Karen Von Stoot. When that had settled, Billy let out an eldery cough before resuming his speech.

"So well, I'm quite familiar with this place, and as my age can tell 'ya I've been 'ere for quite some time. I have some experience with some animal husbandry, as you can see by ol' Jimmy at my feet, and I can throw a mean punch for my age!" Billy belted out his skills towards the men, and bore a reassuring face of confidence.

Why does mentioning the lightnin' rifle story never work? If people believed it like they should I'd be mayor right now! Billy's inner frustrations failed to manifest as he kept up the veneer of an honest man who could guard a wagon for the night.

[Voxija]

A coupla minutes ago, Doc Festy had walked into the saloon. Sarah had just ended her conversation with the ranger and the marshal, so Doc ordered a whiskey. He'd had a long argument over whether it was spelled "whiskey" (the proper Irish way) or "whisky" (the wrong Scottish way). Eventually, Doc Festy sat down at a table with his whiskey.

"Hey, palefaces! Guess who is finally out of jail again! Set me up with something strong."

The saloon doors were kicked open by everyone's favorite delusional Irishman, waving his tomahawk around with reckless abandon.

"Yeah, did a few days for trying to bullseye a duck blindfolded. I wound up bullseying Lester Johnson in the thigh. Anyway, let's get hammered!"

Did Doc see what he just saw?! A feller Irishman, right here in East Zilch! Doc Festy couldn't recognize Indians, but he could recognize someone of Irish decent, as sure as his mom was ginger and carried a big spoon. Doc Festy felt like Henry Stanley Ibn Battuta in China, since Livingstone hadn't gone on his mission yet. As far as Doc Festy could tell, East Zilch was populated entirely by Germans.

Doc rushed up to Pale Potato, tryin' to decide whether to hug the feller with the tomahawk or not. "I can't believe it! A feller Irishman, right here in East Zilch!" Doc Festy wanted to say "top of the morning to ya", but he suppressed the urge. "What's yer name?"

[The republic ofTexas and northern Mexico]

Juan swayne, immediately after shooting up the saloon furniture, decided to waylay a few passerby’s to get a bit of spending money for town. After carefully studying the people in town he decided to try for a naive looking Ranger, who might have been payed recently. Sitting outside of the saloon door, where he was bound be eventually, he waited with his gun in one hand, and a bottle in the other.

The Ranger would notice the man on the path near the bar. The Ranger saw the man holding a beer bottle on one hand and thought,”Oh just a drunkard,” but he noticed the glint of something in his right hand and when he tried to get a closer look he realized he had a revolver on him. Without any hesitation he would pull out his revolver, but not in sight of the drunkard. He would ride ahead to see what he would do and if he pulled a gun on him he wondered,” Should I get him in the arm or the leg?”

Just then Juan saw the Ranger close to him, thinking to himself that this was his chance he got up and walked around to the back of the saloon where he could hide until he was in front of him. So he could pistolwhip him and take his money

[American Pere Housh]

The Ranger would notice the man on the path near the bar. The Ranger saw the man holding a beer bottle on one hand and thought,”Oh just a drunkard,” but he noticed the glint of something in his right hand and when he tried to get a closer look he realized he had a revolver on him. Without any hesitation he would pull out his revolver, but not in sight of the drunkard. He would ride ahead to see what he would do and if he pulled a gun on him he wondered,” Should I get him in the arm or the leg?”

Just then Juan saw the Ranger close to him, thinking to himself that this was his chance he got up and walked around to the back of the saloon where he could hide until he was in front of him. So he could pistolwhip him and take his money

Troy was standing at the bar watching the room when he noticed a man carrying a beer bottle and a revolver. He looks like he is preparing to waylay that Ranger fellow he was talking to earlier with the way he was hiding. Was this man that blind not to notice a U.S Marshal with his Badge on his chest was standing the room watching everyone. He shook his head in complete bewilderment at this man's complete stupidity before pulling his Colt out and aiming at the man, "Mister, I suggest you put that gun away before I shoot you. You are must be blind not to notice me standing at this here bar for the past 30 minutes." He said this in a gruff tone.