"I don't think that's necessary, Sheriff," said the drunk. "Woman's allowed her own opinion, ya know." Bleary eyes suddenly hinted at steel as the tousled mess of a man shambled to his feet and interposed himself between Widge, his two deputies and the object of their wrath.
A low growl came from the brutish form on the right and a feral glint shone below the battered tan hat. Standing ramrod straight on the other flank, the cold glance of the second deputy swept over the scene, his hand lingering on the Bowie knife at his waist. Tales had been whispered of an aristocratic upbringing in Europe, but few knew for certain - and they weren't telling.
As the gaze of Tepes passed him with barely a flicker the dark clad form of a gungighter unfolded from behind his shadowed table and moved to stand with the gently swaying would be protector.
"Mr Care has a point, Sheriff. This woman has done nothing to incur such antipathy. Such a show of force for a simple comment is entirely unnecessary." Smiling easily, he met the eyes of each of the lawmen in turn, leaning nonchalently against the bar.
Despite the sullen look given by Miss Hazel from behind the pair, Alik decided to let it lie. "Alright Mr Erehwon," he began, when a clattering of costly shoes on the boards and flurry of petticoats heralded the arrival of a new player.
"Haven't you dealt with her yet," asked the young woman shrilly. She strode to stand between the two factions and pointed at the newcomer to town. "I demand she be strung up for what she said, Uncle Alik." Stamping a shapely foot she sneered at them. "Don't tell me those two have managed to give you pause?"
Looking harrassed, Alik raised his voice above his niece's and tried to explain. "You heard already? Ria dear, it's not that simple..."
"Did I hear the commanding tones of a real man down here?" A throaty voice redolent of fine whiskey and velvet cut across the saloon. All eyes turned to the beauty descending the stairs.
Smiling as her perfume hit the men in an almost visible wave of awareness, Miss Nightshade wafted after it directly towards the Sheriff. Even the slovenly mess of a drunk had straightened up marginally by this stage, bloodshot eyes open in humble admiration. However, the lawman seemed little more than confounded as the divine creature straightened his collar, whispered in his ear and then sat down at a nearby table to watch the proceedings.
The assembled males managed to tear their eyes away once the saloon owner had bent low to adjust a garter and given a floor show that most would have paid to see. They seemed to had forgotten what they were doing, though. Despite Riahanna's continued calls to string up the woman who'd rejected an offer of coffee, the men all suddenly felt the need for a drink or some female company.
Grinning at the boss's ingenious method of defusing the situation and enhancing bar sales, Amhorach started handing out coffee and whiskey as needed. Over the heads of the clamouring customers, he saw the large form of Mayor Hagbutt, resplendent in his fine suit and two gallon hat, entering with an unwanted entourage of new residents. All of them were clamouring for recognition of their status in town. After a few writs were handed out along with some baleful glares, Hagbutt sat at his accustomed table and sent his slobbering right hand man to get some drinks. The rest of the clamouring sycophants were dismissed with the wave of one massive hand.
With drinks in hand, men moved to tables. Removing his battered stetson and looking far less dangerous than usual, Mr Badger, the gravedigger, put down his spade and sat with Mistress Moon, the schoolteacher. His deputy status forgotten for the moment he talked softly in a low growl, with her nodding often at his comments.
Dumbfounded, the Sheriff discovered himself sitting across from the proprieter. Unused to the ways of women, he was still certain that some of the surely innocuous comments Miss Nightshade was saying as she fluttered her long eyelashes at him had some sort of hidden meaning.
Seated at the piano all this time, the slight form of Parr raised her hands above the keys briefly and started to add some background music. She'd stopped at the moment Hazel had passed on her dislike for the brown beverage, and was happy to have got away with not being shot. A piano player's lot is not always a happy one.
The owner of the supply store wandered up to the bar and ordered himself a sasparilla, drinking it slowly as he took in the scene. Some of his more exotic items hadn't been selling as well as he'd thought and he was somewhat disappointed that the hanging offence had been laid to rest. He was sure that a bit of whipping, thumbscrews and somesuch of the victim in front of the whole town before the event would have helped him pick up some custom. He shuddered briefly at the thought. Oh well. mr fiend walked over to the green coated doctor and began talking pain thresholds with him.
Knowing that the spittoon was full already, Mr Care staggered outside to throw up, falling expertly so that his head was just over the lip of the sidewalk. Engaged in such a necessary activity, he was unaware of the passing footsteps of the local newspaper reporter/editor, young Widow ME as she rushed inside to find that her story had died an uninteresting death. Wincing slightly, he pulled back as a horse pulled up in front of him out of the mists, splattering manure and vomit over his already unsavoury form. He briefly caught a glimpse of the leather clad form of Raven as she leapt from her steed and continued into the saloon of Caffeine Junction; brief because his attention had been gained by another female form appearing out of the mists - dark cloak, auburn hair glinting with highlights from the moisture in the air and a bird of some kind perched on her shoulder. A cold shudder swept up his spine and he suddenly felt far too sober, and aware of how disgusting he must look. With an easy roll and a splash he hid from Anomaly in the horse trough.
Thus it was that only Handel saw the bevy of dark horsemen ride into town, murder in their eyes. Or maybe it was just grit.
Smelling worse even than the recently washed drunkard, the menacing figures dismounted with a great jingling of spurs. The majority of them made straight for the welcome glow surrounding the doors of the saloon, an oasis of comfort in the dampness of the evening. One among them paused to examine the partially submerged form in amongst the bowed heads of the drinking horses, but hurried along after the single waiting gunfighter told him to move his arse.
Handel watched as the last two of the riders pushed into the saloon, their forms silhouetted against the light for a moment. With that 'Ook' and the full body beard he could see sticking out at all angles, there was little doubt that the Hairy Kid, sidekick to the Russian Desperado, was in town. That was two of the riders identified, but he had little idea about the others.
Grumbling noises issued from below the water line and Handel realised that more important things than warning the populace needed doing. He was hungry with the drinker's need for huge amounts of greasy foodstuffs. Groaning with the effort of lifting his water sodden form he pulled himself out of the trough, causing the horses to pull back and (s)nicker to each other.
Once removed from the embrace of the waters he cursed at the chill breeze flattening his soaking clothing against cold skin and made a hurried dripping retreat to the rear of the building. After battering fitfully on the door while simultaneously trying to retain warmth by hugging himself he passed into the welcome warmth of the kitchen.
"Is it that time of the year already," asked the huge man inside. A mixture of sweat from the effort of raising himself to open the door and the omnipresent layer of grease that covered everything here glistened on the layers of folded fat in his jowls. "You usually have a bath in May, don't you?"
Ignoring the absolutely correct observation, Handel moved towards the stove. "Where are the eggs and bacon, BJ? Normally I'd just sit in here and breathe for fifteen minutes, but I feel the need for a faster fix."
Gesturing with a finger that looked more like a sausage than an appendage, the cook pointed out the requested items and then lay back on his chair, his hand dipping into a bowl of cake mix as he watched Handel prepare the food. "Stick an extra dozen on there, would you," he requested as the eggs began to sizzle on the grill.
Ragged honky tonk from the terribly untuned piano battled poorly with the hubbub of voices from various tables. Despite several gas lamps hanging from the ceiling, shadows seemed to lurk around the majority of the tables making it easier to estimate numbers by the size of the smoke pall rising from each than from direct observation. Most of the light concentrated on the doorway, causing the rough looking bunch who had pushed their way in to pause and briefly sheild their eyes.
Mr Badger looked up as the riders entered. The leader walked into the saloon like he owned it and gave a sneer at anyone who met his eye. "I think I'll like this town," sneered Uko Cojones as he sat down at the bar. "Bartender, get me and the boys a round of Tea-quilla! The mayor will pay!"
The piano playing stopped and all in the saloon went silent. Amhorach gave a shudder as he dipped a mug into the rusty barrel where he kept the
tea-quilla. He also kept an eye on all the law men in the room, always ready to dive under the bar top if trouble should start.
Miss Nightshade walked up to the leering no-gooders and offered Uko Cojones her hand. "There's no need for trouble boys, all are welcome in my establishment, very welcome," said she with a wink at Sheriff Widge.
Mayor Hagbutt spluttered at the increase in his tab at the bar but stopped with just an intense glare at the newcomers. For now. Who knew what horrifying revenge was even now fermenting behind those thunderous brows?
Derenkov, the Russian Desperado, grabbed Miss Ria and sat her down on his lap at an empty table. She squealed but couldn't break free of his grasp. The Hairy Kid sat opposite him and kept an eye on the lawmen in the room. Once a happy-go-lucky type, the lack of bananas in the Wild West had made him the surly, violent, but still cuddly, man he was today.
Mr Erehwon walked across to Uko Cojones and tapped him on the shoulder. "We do not want any trouble in this establishment Mr Cojones. Be so kind as to consume your beverage with utmost haste. If your behavior is without flaw you may stay but otherwise..." Mr Erehwon let the sentence stop before colouring the mood with impending violence. However, his hand was sitting close to the obsidian grips of his JoN dOe 45 special and all could see it. Before Uko could respond Widow ME burst through the door of the saloon for the second time that evening.
"The stage has been robbed! The stage has been robbed!" Shouted ME with a newspaper in hand.
"Who robbed it?" Asked Sheriff Widge.
"That'll be 20 cents please sheriff," said the Widow ME. The Sheriff paid for the newspaper and read the report. "Damn! Banditos have robbed the stage of the towns coffee and Rum supplies. There was also a case of JoN dOe specials taken as well." Said the Sheriff.
All eyes turned to the three newcomers in black hats. "My boys have been here the whole time, isn't that right lads?" Derenkov and the Hairy Kid
nodded and smiled at the Sheriff. "If you keep hounding innocent travelers like this what sort of Sheriff are you?" Sneered Uko.
"Enough of this macho grandstanding!" Shouted ME "Who's going to save the coach?"
All the people in the saloon started at each other before finally Mr Badger pushed back his chair and stood up. "I'll go and track down the Banditos but I'll need some help," said the dusky grave digger as he patted the hand of Mistress Moon.
"I'll help," said Raven as she walked to stand beside Mr Badger. Arms akimbo, dark hair unfurled and eyes flashing, her stance dared any of the men in the room to challenge her right to participate. That and the use worn pistols gracing her well rounded hips.
Sheriff Widge stood beside the two as well as the other Deputy, Tepes. The four were soon joined by Amhorach who'd taken the shotgun from under the bar.
"We still need a guide for area, I'm not sure I can find them villains if
they've gone to ground," said Mr Badger. "I think I know who can help us as well."
Satiated, the two in the kitchen proceeded with the male after meal rituals of releasing noxious gases, picking their teeth and scratching themselves. Now his clothes were dry and his stomach full, Handel felt the need for a few drinks to aid in digestion. Walking out into the saloon, the thirsty wretch found all eyes on him.
"What's going on? What have I done," asked Handel, eyes flitting around the room in anxious worry.
"Nothing yet, but it's what you can do for us is the question," smiled Mr Badger.
"What, that drunk? He's no good for anything other than swilling booze,"
sneered Sheriff Widge.
"I remember when he was a man rather than the refuse he is now. He was the best tracker the posse had this side of a hungry wolf. It was only after he met that brunette that he turned into the mess he is now. We'll need him if we're to catch the Banditos and no mistake. Either he goes or I stay and that's final," replied Mr Badger, folding his massive arms in front of him and staring implacably at Alik.
Sheriff Widge just shook his head. "Have it your own way then Badger but he'll get us all killed, mark my words he will," he shrugged in disbelief.
"Umm. One for the road?" Handel asked, looking hopefully at the bar.
