OOM: Mineral City, 1888 -- That's why I hang my hat... -- for Rachel

[ikissdhimbck]

Kate doesn't try to draw attention to herself, but it's kind of hard to sneak through the bar leading a 15-hand pony. Beaut's not fond of hardwood, truth be told, but convenient doors to Texas aren't always to be found from the forest outside.

"Come along, sugar. Not far now an' there'll be dirt under your hooves again."

Beaut issues a dubious snort, sidestepping when a waitrat ventures a little too close. Kate swings around to steady her, arm brushing a piece of yellowed paper she's got tucked into her britches. She knocks it loose, and it flutters to the floor behind her.

"He ain't botherin' you. C'mon."

She moves a little faster. The quicker she gets Beaut outside, the better. Opening her door, she grins as Beaut's ears twitch forward in recognition, and lets her mosey out first.

"No, no. By all means, let me hold the door for you."

The two disappear.

But the yellowed map remains.


As does the door.

Comments

[hell2houston]

He laughs.

"Eh, y'got spunk. I like — "

[theresnodoor]

"No."

[hell2houston]

"Now, hold on, miss — "

[theresnodoor]

"No."

[hell2houston]

"Fiesty, ain't y' — "

[theresnodoor]

"I don't think I can use smaller words," Rachel growls, finally turning her head to glare at him, "so I'll just say this slowly and pretend you're smarter than you act.

"Go. Away."

[hell2houston]

"Now, you ain't given me a chance t'say much at all, missy."

He shakes his head, chuckling.

"I meant no offense. A pretty thing like you don't come aroound a place like this much. Can't blame a fella for a little good-natured conversation."

[theresnodoor]

"You're still talking," Rachel informs him flatly.

[hell2houston]

"All right, all right. I can take a hint."

Albeit slowly.

He tips his hat, and gathers up his whiskey. The barkeep looks Rachel over, but quickly  —  he doesn't want any trouble.

[theresnodoor]

"Prove it."

She glances back at Kate. It's unlikely she'll be done posse-ing up, or whatever, but it's good to take a look, at least.

[hell2houston]

Kate's engaged in what looks to be a serious conversation with the gentlemen at the card table. One of them laughs, sneering, but the others are hearing her out. She glances back to catch Rachel's eye, just checking to make sure she's all right.

(She might notice the way her hand touches the butt of her gun as she does so, though she relaxes once she's sure the other woman is all right.)


"Another, miss?"

The barkeep motions to Rachel's glass.

[theresnodoor]

She was kind of hoping Kate would need her.

Sighing, Rachel turns back to the bar and nods. Sure, root beer, great.

If someone else approaches her, she'll have something to throw.

[hell2houston]

Ask and ye shall receive.

It seems one of the cowpoke's two friends has decided to try his luck. Whether it's him sticking up for his pal or just his blind ego with the pretty young girl that has him reaching for her elbow, who's to know?

"I see y'had some words with my friend, li'l lady. Why don't you an' I — "

[theresnodoor]

Rachel's jaw is tight within the first few words, realizing he's talking to her, calling her 'little lady.' "Listen, John Wayne-"

And then he actually puts a hand on her.

A year ago, her only choice of response would have been snap or morph. But that was before she met and started training with X.

It occurs to Rachel that Kate's going to be annoyed with her. Perhaps unfortunately, it occurs to her only after she's ripped his hand off her arm, slammed it on top of the bar, and held it there, fingers tight around his wrist.

"Do not. Touch me."

[hell2houston]

"Wh– Hey!"

His other arm crosses over, instinctively making a grab for her wrist.

[theresnodoor]

The perfect opening for her free hand to snap forward, space between her thumb and forefinger slamming into his throat.

Do not touch me.

[ikissdhimbck]

By this time there's an awful ruckus. The man's pals clamor to his side, shouting and hollering. Folk are looking at Rachel like she's just grown two heads.

Kate follows the sounds of chairs and boots shuffling over hardwood, stunned long enough by what she sees to allow the man she'd come to talk to an opening of his own. She tries to get up, and he snatches at her arm.

"The hell is this?"

"Does it look like I know?" she snaps, eager to get to Rachel.


Meanwhile, the fella in Rachel's grasp gurgles and grunts, perplexed by the predicament he finds himself in. It ain't right to strike a girl, but desperation is winning out. She can't be that strong, can she? So he yanks at her arm.

[theresnodoor]

She's not unnaturally strong but she is a teenage girl who spends most of her time working out by herself, with gymnastics, with warriors.

He gets her arm off his throat and Rachel steps back, leans away, lets him go and reaches for her glass of root beer again, casual as you please.

[ikissdhimbck]

"God Almighty!" croaks the man, wheeling back into his comrades.

They all stumble and stare, the man coughing, the others not sure just what in God's name they're supposed to do. Kind of like the bartender, whose hands are under the bar where that old Winchester lies, but he ain't sure where to go from here.


"I think you gals are a li'l too big for your britches, thinkin' you can come in here like 'at."

The good Mr. Black gives Kate a shake.

She glowers.

"Let go'a me."

"Or what?"

He's distracting her. She can't see Rachel, doesn't know what's happening behind her, and after their chat he just ain't all that important anymore. So she shows him what.

She socks him in the nose.


"I think you best git outta here!" says one of the cowpokes, sticking his finger in Rachel's face.

[theresnodoor]

The bartender's hands drop under the bar in a move Rachel's seen many times before. Her eyes follow him, sharp, fingers curling tight around her glass of root beer.

There's a sharp sound and ruckus off to the side. Her eyes dart in that direction in time to see a man go down under Kate's fist.

Then there's a finger in front of her nose.

Well, then.

Rachel's eyes narrow as she turns, abandoning her mug to grab the wrist in front of her face and twist it hard around his back, wrenching the joint. Her other hand knocks off the cowpokes' hat so she can grab his hair - and introduce his forehead to the top of the bar.

[hell2houston]

After that first dull thud and the crack that follows, all hell breaks loose. Chairs topple, boots scrape in sawdust —

The other two men at Kate's table draw on her, which is fair enough seeing as how she's already drawn on them, a gun in each hand.

"You boys might wanna rethink this."

In the pause that follows, the sounds of the other men at the bar rushing in on Rachel can be heard. They holler and grunt, trying to get behind her so they can pin her arms to her sides.

Kate makes a mistake.


She checks to make sure she's okay.


In that split second, there's a whine, and she turns back just in time to see the chair that careens straight into her.

[theresnodoor]

Kate went down.

Kate went down.

Kate went down.

Yup.

That means shit can follow.


Rachel goes down under the sudden huddle of men, grown men, rushing at her, grabbing hands and thrown elbows. She goes down, crouches even as a fist grabs her hair and a boot catches her thigh, grits her teeth at the knee in her ribs, and feels the barstool she's holding squeak in protest when she tightens her grip.

She barely feels the change, not anymore, not these days, not this shape.

But those men sure do notice when the girl they're beating on suddenly sprouts brown fur and claws that rip straight through that bar stool.

[ikissdhimbck]

She slips her grip to the barrels as soon as she realizes she's not staying upright, knuckles white against steel. She can fall on her rear, even on her head, but she can not lose her guns.

The wind's knocked out of her. For a second or two she sees stars. Someone reaches under her armpits, but before he can haul her up she swings the butt of her gun around and catches him in the jaw.

She can hear the commotion by the bar, and staggers to her feet. Rachel needs help —




Oh. Or maybe she's doing just fine.

"What in hellblazes is that thing?"

She calmly holsters her Colt, and throws her body into a right hook that catches Thomas Black square in the chin.

She stands over his crumpled body.

"That thing is a lady, sir, an' my friend. You best mind your manners."

[theresnodoor]

Rachel doesn't have to do much after that, really. The shape alone, once they realize what she is, is enough to get everyone to back up.

It helps that she decides to inform the bar of what she is but throwing herself up, rearing up onto her back legs, seven feet tall and little furry ears brushing the ceiling. If a few cowboys get thrown on her way up there, no bother.

And just in case anyone missed the memo, she follows it with a roar.

[ikissdhimbck]

Yep.

That looks familiar.



A startled cowpoke at a nearby table, just as white as spit in a cotton field, draws his gun on the bear. Kate grabs the upturned chair at her feet, and throws it at him.

"No you don't!"

The man hits the floor, and Kate kicks his gun away. Others are pressing in, fists flying and knees knocking. Dumb, angry, and scared is a bad combination.

"Rachel! Y'might wanna think 'bout wrappin' it up!"

She could mean a number of things by that, but given the face she just sent into a wall she likely won't complain if Rachel takes a minute to scare the bejeezus out of the boys quivering at her ankles.