Chapter 2 - Cash Dollars on the Hoof

[jemmus]

Sebastian rejoin the posse and its members ride out of the Wiley place and stop outside its fence's gate. They see the shotgun, rifle, and pistols the deputy sheriff neatly laid out, muzzles resting on a stick, out of the dirt. The wagon road leads to the west toward the highway to the San Antonio. Which can only but pass through Comaltown, the only sizeable town in Comal County, Texas.

The same wagon road leads the other way also, to the west. Past the other ranches that lie between the Balcones Escarpment cliffs and Purgatory Creek. Through the farm and ranching area called Stringtown, and beyond toward the open prairie.

Mounted on their sorry old Army horses, the members of the posse appraise the situation. First of all, by now, each rider knows that his old mount has a personality and habits of its own. Some can (or will) break into trot. Some probably won't. So far on the road from San Marcos, their hasn't been a test of that. But each rider has seen that his own mare or gelding will walk. And on four feet. Which is always stronger and faster than on two feet. Unless you have two feet, and also wings to fly. Which some creatures of South-Central Texas do.

German-born South-Central Texan Andreas says in his thick accent that he'll defer to older and more senior Judge Jonathan Doos for any talking.

Charlie, child of English-speaking and Comanche parents, spurs his one-eyed horse ahead of the group. A crow flaps overhead toward the northeast. Back toward the direction the posse came from. Toward the live oak lining the banks of Purgatory Creek. Which the posse members crossed just this morning, and know. In this kind of grass and scrub land, green trees in June mean only one thing-- water.

Doos strains to bend the back of his bow low enough to fit the string to the upward notch. The string slips in nicely, and the bow stretches it iron-taut. His horse stretches its neck to crop at weeds and shuffles toward the side of the road.

Paladin, the contract investigator from San Francisco (who was never convinced about whether the idea of this horse recovery mission was a good idea at all), ambles his rickety horse along.

Bill Moore, from Boston, the very soul of Back East, and a Harvard lawyer as well... Drifts to the left, walking his old U.S. Army horse.

The posse have many decisions ahead of them. And none made and decided upon. Which is damn typical of Texas. "Go south and east, and git snookered. Go west and north, and git scalped. Either way, lucky or unlucky."

That first crow beat its wings and cawed overhead. Before long, crow flew in toward that spot along the tree line from many points all around. Posse member Charlie, who was the lead scout, started riding his old horse that way.

Actions? The posse has many options.
Go and question Harvey Adler around Comaltown about his role in the whole thing.
Try to use Tracking skill to track the paths of the horses? Something else? .

[ateno]

Doos lessens up on the lead and let's the horse eat. He looks around for anything out of the ordinary.

[Grognardsw]

”Maybe Harvey Adler will share some helpful information,” said Paladin. “I’m sure our posse could give him the right motivation.”

[redwarrior]

William will follow in Charlie's wake. He's new to the country, but thinks it's reasonable that the crows may mean something or someone freshly dead.

[Rex]

Charlie

Charlie will try and determine what the crows are doing there.

[jemmus]

Charlie and William ride toward where the crows have been flying. The spot is easy enough to locate, due to the loud cawing from the branches of the live oaks. As they get closer, Charlie slows his old one-eyed horse's walk to even slower. He sees through the tree trunks four men, two women, and four pretty poor Texas horses. They're Indians, and they wear a mixture of deerskin and Western cotton clothing. One man wears an blue U.S. Army shirt. Three of the men have old Spencer repeating carbines laid beside them. The men sit around a deer hide. On it are four wooden disks, the size of coins. Three have black paint on their upward faces, the third red. Before each man are a dozen to a few dozen pecans. A man whoops and says something, and the other men each take up a half dozen or so pecans and pass them over to his pile.

One of the women is skinning a common Texas "yeller" dog, while also managing to intently keep an eye on the game. The other women seems to be gathering kindling for a fire, while monitoring the game as often as she can.

Charlie knows that these are Tonkawa. A tribe that the Comanche half of his bloodline drove off of the buffalo hunting grounds to the west, and almost into extinction. The Comanche look down on them and as the defeated weak. And despise them for serving as scouts for their U.S. Army-- and worse, Texas Rangers-- enemies. But Charlie also knows that the Tonakawa have a bitter hatred for their generational persecutors, the Comanche.

The Tonkawa have selected a scenic spot for their upcoming meal. It's a natural, shaded clearing beside the slow-flowing Purgatory Creek, with a view through the trees of the nearby gray-black cliffs of the Balcones Escarpment. The crows sit in the branches around the deerskin, observing the pecans, and calling out comments, tactical plans, or whatever crows speak of in their own loud language.

Charlie has Scouting skill, and it appears to him that the group hasn't detected him as yet. He's around 25 yards from them. William is 4 yards behind. Both are mounted. The other members of the posse can see them from the road, which is around 200 yards away.

PCs are up for actions.

[Rex]

Charlie

Speaking English, "We are not here to bother you, we are looking for some horse thieves. Have you seen anyone pass this way with extra horses?"

Charlie's carbine is in hand, laid across his saddle so it is obvious he can defend himself, but to minimize how threatening it is.

[redwarrior]

William moves his worn down mount forward to be even with Charlie, but a little to the left. He doesn't move toward his gun, but turns the horse a bit so that they can see that he is also armed.

[jemmus]

Andres's own thin old horse with the bullet wound through a haunch seems to get it in its head to go back to San Marcos. Or some other favored destination of its own choosing. The old veteran slowly turns around and starts walking east, out of Stringtown and back toward the north-south road the posse came in on.

Farther afield, William Moore's thin and swaybacked mare droops her neck and patiently waits for another human talking or whatever thing to end. The old mare nibbles at the yellow grass outside of the treeline, a semi-circle of resilient snot and drool hanging from nostrils and mouth.

We'll wait for posts for the other PCs, who so far haven't approached the gathering spot of the crows. Which was just a little east of the Wiley place. Along the road you all already rode on this morning. If that especially matters.

[Grognardsw]

Assuming the Charlie/William investigation of crow area is within sight of Paladin and the others.

Paladin waited while Charlie and William checked the area under the circling crows.

“We should wait together,” he said to the meandering Andre. “When Charlie’s back, we’ll head to Comaltown for Harvey Adler.”

Can Paladin and the others hear Charlie’s speaking to the Tonkawas?

[cybersavant]

Andreas's own thin old horse with the bullet wound through a haunch seems to get it in its head to go back to San Marcos. Or some other favored destination of its own choosing. The old veteran slowly turns around and starts walking east, out of Stringtown and back toward the north-south road the posse came in on.

Andreas Larson reigns in his horse, and turns it around to face the others. "Vhat ist taking dem zo long? Haf dey found someting?"

[jemmus]

The riders on the road can see Charlie and William. They're around 200 yards away, at the edge of the trees. They've apparently encountered someone or something, because they stopped their horse. They can faintly hear speaking, but they can't make out what's being said.

[Bluetongue]

Sebastian

Just waits with the posse. A man on parole, under authority. He prefers to be told rather than do the telling as far as the posse investigations go though if it ever comes it it, as seen in the tavern, his gun is well spoken off to do all the telling that needs telling.

He observes, waiting on any sign of people reaching for guns.

[jemmus]

We don't have a Doos action, but I'm going to go ahead so we don't lose too much momentum. A retroactive Doos post is allowed.

On the road with the others, Gideon McLaury says, Unless them boys is jawin at crows, they come across somebody.

At the creek, the Tonkawa men each hold up a palm to show the sign of peace. But nevertheless, also unhurriedly put their hands on their rifles. The women stop their skinning and gathering and stand and look at the outsiders. They remain seated. You Indian, the oldest looking of the men says to Charlie. Comanche ma or pa? We see white men with horses, yeah. Seven. Rope. He makes a gesture of leading a horse by a rope.

You give something, we say. He gestures to the deer hide before them with the painted wooden chips lying on it. You win, we say.

[redwarrior]

William realizing that the party is at least somewhat friendly visibly relaxes and dismounts, stretching his legs and letting his horse graze. He's content to let Charlie take the lead in negotiations, but looks on interestedly, and will ask how the game is played When it doesn't interfere with Charlie's palaver and make generally friendly small talk.

[Rex]

Charlie

"Comanche ma, but most of my time has been spent with white men."

He looks them over, "Looking for some horse thieves, if you can help us find them then perhaps we have something for you."

[jemmus]

Mounted attorney William greets the gentlemen and politely nods to the ladies. The man in the Army shirt slowly and calmly stands, his hand on his outdated Spencer rifle's stock's grip. But the barrel is pointed to the earth, and he doesn't even look at it. It seems that having the rifle in hand is just a constant and customary habit. Like firming your hat down on your head before you break your horse into a trot. We saw men leading horses. No saddle, no bridle. Paints, appaloosa, farm horse, bay. We say where and where goin, ya give two dollars. Or knife. He looks at Charlie's and William's knives. We track and ya get horses back, we get one horse. We pick one. He speaks to the others in the Tonkawa language, which has no resemblance to Comanche, Kiowa, Apache, or any other native languages Charlie and William know or have heard. The three men make short replies in the same language and seem to give their assent.

To William and Charlie, the paints/pintos and appaloosa sound like the horses the hotel guests stabled in San Marcos. The "farm horse" might be Paladin's Morgan. They don't recall a bay being stabled there, though.

The riders on the road see their two posse companions still mounted at the edge of the tree line and apparently in discussion with some people. William sits upright in the saddle and seems relaxed, but observant. Neither man gives any indication of tension and readying for imminent gunplay. Occasionally a crow in the branches overhead caws out some comment, question, doubt... or proposal? Who can read a crow's mind anyway? It would take a real Indian shaman. And a very talented one at that.

[Rex]

Charlie

Charlie tosses them 2 dollar coins.

To everyone else, "What do you think of giving them the choice of a horse for their help?"

[jemmus]

Does Charlie ride 200 yds back to the road to discuss with everyone else? Or does he beckon the other riders over?

[Rex]

Charlie

Charlie beckons the others over, not ready to turn his back on the Tonkawa yet.