OOM: Yorktown, 1888 -- rally the troops

[ikissdhimbck]

[Sometime after this:]



When Kate leads Butch out her door, they end up in an ordinary bunkhouse. It's where she and Mireille have been staying the past few weeks. The robot woman is happy to see them, but they don't stay for long. Today's the day.

The gang's riding in.

Beaut and Salty are already saddled up; the latter is one of John's dapple grey geldings. He'll be Butch's main legs while he's here. It's about a half hour ride to Yorktown, a good portion of which takes them through John's property, so there are no problems to speak of.

Hopefully, as they ride up to the fancy saloon in the heart of the town, that luck will continue.

Comments

[i_got_vision]

It's a different time than his, but towns haven't changed much in the past decade, so it feels a bit like coming home compared to the shiny modernity of the bar. He's been through dozens of places like this, nice places full of decent people.

But business is business.

He dismounts and ties his horse outside the saloon. "Nice place."

[ikissdhimbck]

"Y'know, I've never been."

Kate shoots him a crooked grin as she ties Beaut to the post beside Salty.

Yorktown's flourished since the Aransas Pass Railway came to town  —  or, rather, since the town came to the Aransas Pass Railway. When the line moved in two miles south of the limits, the town moved two miles south to accommodate. Now what they've got is a nice little boomtown, perfect for a couple of strangers to blend in.

"I'll be happy so long as they've got somethin' decent t'drink in there."

[i_got_vision]

He's good at blending in--dressed perfectly unremarkably but clean, just another man passing through town maybe on his way to a new job at some ranch in the area. There's nothing about him to stand out at all, other than possibly his good mood.

"I'd even take something not so decent," he says. "Even just water."

[ikissdhimbck]

Kate does her best not to stand out, but it's easier in crowds. There's not much she can do about being a blonde-haired, blue-eyed pistol of a woman, dressed in britches and worn boots. She turns heads as they climb onto the boardwalk.

Inside isn't much different. The menfolk who aren't so drunk they can't see straight turn and stare. Kate glances at Butch, something like an apology — or maybe just frustration — caught in her eyes.

"Well, I reckon we can work ourselves up t'the hard stuff."

She moves to grab them a table in the corner, scanning the room for familiar faces. Looks like they're the first ones here.

[one_day_ace]

There's no denying the anxious little flutter in his stomach as Ace rides through town, the sweat prickling at his back not just a product of the stifling heat. He's been thinking about the meeting all day and now, as he dismounts and ties Arrow at the rail, he finds himself wanting to duck and hide his face. Like those passing by will somehow know he's up to no good.

He suppresses the feeling as he straightens up and strides into the saloon, pulling the worn dark cowboy hat from his head as he steps inside. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light but once they do he picks out Kate Barlow in a heartbeat -- she's just not that easy to miss, all hair and eyes, something in the way she moves like a rattler about to strike. He doesn't recognize the man next to her but he strolls over anyway, easy as y'please.

"Mizz James." He nods his head to her, offers a nod to the other man as well but doesn't quite introduce himself, not yet.

[ikissdhimbck]

Her hat's on the table, next to two empty glasses and a bottle of cheap whiskey; when she looks up she's like a western Athena, her sharp eyes cutting through a messy blonde haze.

"Mr. Lehane."

Her smile is quick and precise, not indulging in niceness beyond what good manners demand. She rises to her feet and stretches out her hand.

"Glad t'see you. This is Jim Lowe. Mr. Lowe, meet John Lehane."

[i_got_vision]

Butch is actually pretty relaxed, all things considered. I mean, it's not his world, and he doesn't have his gang with him, not even Sundance; and he's never seen these folks in action, but a bullet here could get him just as dead as one back home. But he's not thinking about any of that right now, and not because of the whiskey either.

This is what he does, this is his element. It may not be the one he would've chosen, but here he is, and that's that. He attempts to radiate a harmless small-town-Mormon-boy aura, though whether that works or not...

He grins and offers a hand when appropriate. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Lehane."

[one_day_ace]

He accepts Kate's hand when it's offered and is both surprised and not by the strength it carries. He's felt her strength before, but somehow it doesn't seem to fit with her. It's like seeing one of the pretty Thoroughbred mares up at the stud farm, skittish and high-strung, suddenly start cuttin' cattle.

The hand of Jim Lowe, on the other hand, is pretty much as he'd expect. He gives it a firm shake, looks the other man in the eye. "It's a pleasure. Most call me Ace." He hasn't even thought about a need for aliases. Sometimes it seems that he's been Ace since he first stepped off the farm, leaving John Lehane and his grief both behind him.

He reaches behind him and hooks a chair, pulls it up to the table. The whiskey doesn't get a second glance but he don't ask for any neither, wants a clear head for this.

[ikissdhimbck]

"No trouble ridin' in, I hope?"

He might not have an eye for the whiskey, but Kate catches the attention of the barman anyhow, giving him a little wink to let him know another glass would be appreciated.

She switches her gaze on Butch.

"Mr. Lehane has some fine ponies he's been kind enough t'volunteer."

[i_got_vision]

"Oh, is that right?"

He just keeps right on grinning. There's just something about a job like this that puts him in a good mood--well, until things go wrong, but he's not thinking about that. It's never even a possibility, until it happens.

"That's mighty nice of you. Mine are all up in Wyoming, and that's not a trip I'd take in this weather if I didn't have to."

[one_day_ace]

"That'd be a long haul," Ace agrees. Doesn't quite look put-off by the other man's smile but it's a near thing, a grin about the farthest thing from his mind at the moment and he can't help but wonder privately about the kind of person this Jim Lowe is.

But then he's about to be the same kind of person, isn't he? Or start off down that path. The thought itches at him and makes his blood hum with anticipation like he's touched a live wire.

Tries not to show it, best as he can. "My stock ain't nothin' fancy, but they'll see you through."

[ikissdhimbck]

He's young. Even if he ain't but a few years younger than Kate, he looks like a colt: wobbly-footed; stern of face; body twitching like this new thing called air might decide to attack at any minute.

She takes a slow draw off her whiskey, catching his eye over the rim of her glass. Her gaze cuts into him, a soundless blue calm down over the din of the saloon.

The tender drops off clean glasses with a stilted nod and grin, eyes decidedly too far south to be looking at Kate's face. She thanks him, pleasant, and waits until he moves off again to address the table.

"Anything'll do, Mr. Lehane. Though, Jim'll hafta get an eye on 'em, see what he thinks. If all goes smooth, we shouldn't have anythin' t'worry about. There's two more men comin', then we can talk business."

[hell2houston]

Kate couldn't have timed her remark any better. Just then, the other two come moseying on in. They're the kind of gruff that gives one the impression they've been wearing the same set of clothes eight days straight, rolling in the dirt as a way of keeping clean. She gives a nod to one, who hits the other in the shoulder and points out the table.

They walk up, just a couple of Dishonest Joes, and make themselves right at home.

"Mr. Lehane, Mr. Lowe, I'd like you t'meet Mr. Ferguson an' Mr. ... " Kate trails off.

"Adler," comes the answer in a thick German accent, along with an outstretched hand. "Like the eagle, ja?"

He grins, two of his teeth missing.

"And where're you fine gentleman from?" Ferguson asks, reaching for the whiskey.

[i_got_vision]

Butch knows the type. Hell, he's been the type--he wasn't always a fine upstanding citizen like he is now. Why, he used to be a traveling horse racer...

"Nice to meet you two gentlemen," he says, raising his glass in a sort of salute. "I'm from Wyoming, myself--long way from home, but of course we all are, aren't we? Far from home, and yet this is where we belong. I love Texas."

He's not drunk. He's just like this normally.

[one_day_ace]

Jim Lowe may not be drunk but Ace doesn't know that. His eyebrows briefly crawl up before he can straighten his face again and offer both of the newcomers nods. They're not so much to look at but then, he figures, that's the business he's gotten himself into now.

"From here, mostly." Those three words pretty much cover his ranch-hopping past, or at least as well as he's willing to go into it for introductions. Then the manners that got drilled into him as a child make their reappearance and he offers up a "Pleased t'meet you," even though he's not a hundred percent sure that he actually is. But this is what it's all about, isn't it? Disreputable jobs come with disreputable types.

And he can't deny that as calm as he's tried to make himself since Kate's wordless reminder, there's as much excitement as apprehension inside of him.

[ikissdhimbck]

Excitement, apprehension — it's all the same when it comes down to it, isn't it? Kate's stiff, her usually friendly features drawn in hard lines, a frown tugging at her lips. Her gaze passes between all four men before settling on the table.

"Glad y'could join us."

She leans forward, and the devil's dancing in her eyes.

"Shall we get down to business?"

[hell2houston]

"Oh ja, ja."

Adler gives Butch a friendly nod, eyes narrowing on the young Mr. Lehane. Ferguson's eyes stay on Kate.

"Wouldn't mind a li'l time t'finish me whiskey, ma'am, but you go on an' move them pretty lips of your'n."

The look she casts is sharp, but he has unconcernedly moved on, reaching out to shake Ace's hand.

[i_got_vision]

Butch pours himself another glass of whiskey and settles in to listen to Kate explain the plan.

He's never done this kind of job before--never done a job with men who are, essentially, strangers to him. It's always been friends, or whatever the hell Harvey Logan counts as; they know each other, they've ridden together sometimes for years, they know how each other will react under pressure.

But on the other hand, familiarity breeds fistfighting and rivalries. Maybe it's better not to know each other that well; maybe it'll keep them all on their best behavior, because nobody knows what anybody else is really capable of doing.

He'd do it either way, though. There's a boyish sense of adventure--or, considering Miss Barlow, maybe it's not boyish, maybe it's universal.

He wouldn't trade it for anything.