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

[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.