The Unseen Servant forums

"That's fair, I think. no need to cause bad blood for cutting cards and such'

Doos will ask everyone else for the $1.50 and pay the Tonkawa the $8.00

"I have 4 lbs of bacon, well less, I ate some, its something in your stomach, for now.

Paladin said:

“I’d like to get Slim and/or Davidson to sign confessions stating Adler’s involvement in the horse rustling ring. Or face the noose. Then the law could go after the man at the center, or hire us to do it. That confession could be given to the San Marcos sheriff. His integrity is questionable, so it could be sent to Austin for the regional marshall to take care of. What do you think?”

"I agree about the local sheriff, lets send a message to the marshal after we sleep. You might want to say it would be better on them if they confessed on their own accord, not make it seem like a threat."

Doos

Charlie

Charlie gives up the $1.50.

Sheet updated.

Paladin gave his money share for the Tonkawa’s trail-covering.

He nodded in agreement with judge Doos about the prisoners.“Hopefully proper motivation will encourage the right choice.”

As the shrouded moon reached its midnight zenith, and several miles had been trod, Paladin slowed upon reaching a copse of trees (or a tree) and asked the cowboys if now would be a good time to sleep. He suggested a watch be set.

Paladin tied a noose with a rope.

He walked over and knelt down in front of the tightly bound and gagged Mike, well out of earshot of Davidson who was tied up on the opposite side of the camp.

“Mike, I’ll give it to you straight. As a horse rustler, you can hang, or you can sign a confession implicating Adler. The people I work with want to take him down. You think about that tonight. Tomorrow morning you give me your answer.” Paladin set the noose down in front of Mike.

He then walked over to Davidson and said the same thing.

Just clarifying that Davidson is the rather short, pudgy, babyfaced young man. Sebastian calls him "Slim." The other rustler is the moustached one. He hasn't been called by name yet, other than "Mike."

The posse sets off riding south for the road to Stringtown. The Tonkawa follow, walking backwards. They use using leafy branches cut from the tree by the house to fluff up the prairie grass trodden on by the many horses' hooves. It's slow work, and the posse has soon left them behind.

The riders reach the road, turn east, and ride another hour. The stop and turn into a little copse off of the road. Paladin separates the two captive rustlers and addresses each of them in turn. Gagged Davidson indicates with his eyes and muffled voice that he want to talk to Paladin. Now, not in the morning. The mustached rustler glares at Paladin and hisses what may be a muffled curse to him.

Gideon McLaury says, Well, now that we have a little time, les jist take a look in that dead rustler's saddle bags. Ya never know what a lowdown horse thief might carry around with him. Lessee... rounds for rifle and pistol.... hard tack and a good-sized chunk a ham... wire cutters. (that makes sense)... two horseshoes, horseshoe nails and a little hammer... some kinda ointment... and whas this? Looks like a letter. He scratches a match and holds it up to the envelope for light. Addressed to Ms. Harriet Shepherd, General Post Office, Lawrence, Kansas. No return address. Well, les jist take a look inside. There ain't no postage stamp on it, so it ain't part of the U.S. Mail yet, so openin it ain't no Federal crime. He reads.

Dear Mama,
I hope all is well with you and you are healthy. I am writing to you from what we call a "station," but there is no building here. We are far from any settlement and about as close to the Comanche Indians as we are to any town. I have given this letter to a business partner to deliver to a post office for me, so I hope that it will reach you at our beloved old farm in Lawrence.

I tell ya, whoever wrote this cain't spell worth cow plop, Gideon comments. I'm having to decipher ancient Eqyptian writin and translate fer ya. He continues, pausing to light a new match when needed.

Mama, you would be proud of what me and Farley have been doing. Last month we took 21 total head of horses off of the U.S. Army, right out from under their noses. One of them was a real pretty mare, it was an officer's horse. It wasn't but 2 days before we had them rebranded from US to U$, sold for silver dollars, and clear out of the county. And Mama, that's just the small potatas. Over the past few weeks we've stuck up half a dozen stagecoaches in lonely spots on the roads around here. The money is good, because it seems that people riding stagecoaches from one spot in Texas to another one far away carry about every nickel they have with them. In the beginning we shot the drivers and the shotgun men. That was unfortunate, because sometimes there was no passenger able to drive a team and get back to their starting point or their destination. (Mama, if the passengers is Texan or from the South, we don't take the horses. That would be just too heartless). I suppose thirst or the Comanches got them, but I don't know for sure. Now we're more expert. We don't like to shoot a Texan or anyone from the 11 southern states. We found out that if you just ride out on the road with a kerchief over your face and firearms raised, about every one shotgun rider and driver will throw his hands up quick. They'll throw down their weapons quicker than flipping a pancake. That has saved many having to shoot quite a few men.

Mama, that brings to mind a recent story. We was on the road outside of an ugly little town called Kerrville, Texas. Here come a stagecoach rig all fine paneled like it was from New York or Boston. Well of course we set onto it and stopped it. Well, at present we have a saddle bum who calls himself Phineas with us. An odd feller, who is prone to chuckling to hisself before fights and being easy to pull a trigger. He brags that he once shot a bald-headed feller just to see if the bullet would ricochet off of his bald head. I don't know if that is true or not or just a made-up story. But I from what I now know about this Phineas feller, I wouldn't put that murder past him.

Well, we stopped the stage and the shotgun and driver threw down their guns and raised their hands. Farley made them get down from the stage, dismounted from his horse, and stuck a pistol into a window. The passengers got out onto the road quick enough and emptied their satchels, pockets, and purses. We got a fine gold watch on a silver chain, in addition to all kinds of cash and goods. Then Farley said, "All right, ladies and gentlemen. You can be on your way. Except you." You see, there was a feller who didn't look like a regular Texan. He a barber shop shave from just a day or two before and had on a clean suit. I myself suspected him of being a Yankee carpetbagger or newspaper reporter or a railroad man. So Farley said to him, "What do you call batter bread that your ma, grandma, or aunt flips over in a hot skillet?" The man correctly answered, "A pancake." (Yankees call pancakes "hot cakes" or "flapjacks".) But then Farley asked, "What do you call a tree nut that can be baked with sugar or molasses into a tasty pie?" The man answered, "A PEE-can." That's what they call pecans. We say "pi-CAHN", but they say "PEE-can."

Well, Mama, that saddlebum Phineas perked up at that and right away shot the man straight through the heart. He laughed and said, "I knew it. A U.S. Army spy. Posing as a stagecoach passenger. I'm surprised the dumb (blankety-blank) got this far. Only a born Yankee spy would be so dumb as to call a pecan a pee-can in Texas." I don't think that feller was no Army spy, but he sure enough was a Yankee.

Well, I will close now. I don't know when we can get back to Kansas and see y'all. They say that maybe in a few years a President will be elected who'll pardon "war crimes." Of course, the only people who have to worry about being accused of a war crime is the ones who lost the war. Mama, please pardon the misspellings. We hardly have a pencil and paper here, much less a dictionary to check spelling. Please give our regards to Ida and young Ruby, who I hardly had a chance to see before riding off to war. You would be proud to know that Farley is as brave as he was when we rode with Captain Bill Anderson. He's been a good and strong young man, and Daddy would be proud of him if he was still alive.

If you want to write to us, for now here's the address-
Jack Wilson
Hold at General Post Office
Austin, Texas.

With love,
Your son Louis

Gideon looks thoughtful for a moment. He mutters to himself, Phineas.... I know a Phineas. Right well, to.... That's an uncommon name.... Never even met another jasper by that name.... He seems a little troubled in is mind. For once, the talkative fellow is quiet and keeping any thoughts he may be thinking to himself.

Charlie

"I get the sense that this is a much bigger operation than we first suspected."

Seeing Davidson struggling to speak through the gag, Paladin removed it.

After listening, Paladin asked Gideon who Phineas was. He looked over the letter for himself.

Sebastian

Has his original horse; black and white Paint Quarter-horse. A mare. Crazy look in her eyes, likes apples, sugar cubes and getting her hair done. Not very intelligent and loose in the bowels, especially after gruel oats and excessive roughage. He never gave her a name, not wanting to get so attached to the beast since the Knackers Yard was her most likely destination.

He gives one of the retrieved horses a look over, taking the 'Lazy S' mare under his wing and puts it through some paces, racing across the flat prairie and zig-zagging between points, jumping over small boulders. Taking this one would certainly be a step up and good reward for his troubles.

He leaves the questioning of the rustlers to others.

Paladin removed "Slim" Davidson's gag. The rather pudgy and baby-faced young man looks up and smiles and affable smile. Well, y'all sure did get the drop on us. It seems that he's careful about trying to speak in a more citified, less-twangy kind of Texas English. I wonder how ya found us, but I'm not going to ask. I guess Harvey Adler sold us out, like Mike said. Anyway, mister, I'll tell ya what I know and sign a confession-- if you'll turn me loose and let me go on my way on one of those old Army horses. If ya take me in, I'll hang. Even if a sheriff or judge don't do it, a lynch mob will. A judge might give 50 years in prison in Austin or somewhere. But that won't stop a mob of vigilantes from busting into the local jail and stringin a horse thief up. There's no use confessin to anything if you're just goin to swing anyway.

Turn me loose and give me yer worst poor Army horse, and I'll tell ya what I know. And I'll be gone and ya won't see hide nor hair of again. He smiles his affable baby-faced smile again.

Paladin approaches Gideon McLaury and asks him about who "Phineas" named in the letter from the dead rustler's saddlebag might be. Gideon replies, Mr. Blackheart. Well, that's a no good name to call a feller after ya been ridin together, bargaining with Tonkawas, shootin damn horse thieves, and roundin up stolen horses and shoppin abandoned farm houses together. Gideon T. McLaury outa Waco, Texas. Nice to meet ya. He offers his hand for a handshake.

Well, since we're on trail together, I'll tell ya.... Thar was an ole boy back in Waco whin I was growin up. Couple of years older than me. Ornery boy. Jist plain mean. Got enjoyment outa bein mean ta other boys growin up-- and ta girls too. Jist mean by nature, I spose. Sometimes ye across one lack that. My policy by now is to fold my hand and git outa tha way. Thar's no way win, no matter what ya do or how peaceful yer intentions are.

Anyhow, and that ole boy was crazy too. Dint think right, dint see things the way other people see em. Kinda always thought people was out to git him. Well, I suppose they kinda was, him being ornery and vicious to em all. Kilt his first man at age 14 or 15 or so. A storekeeper. At that time that Phineas was carryin around under his arm a fightin rooster. That was a mean, tough rooster, with the look of killer in its eye. You know that kinda bird. Alert and watchin with a keen red eye with a black dot in the center looking all around, itchin to get down on the dirt fer a fight. If that boy saw a rooster and hens in somebody's little yard in Waco, he'd set down that bird and fore long the other rooster'd be dead. Anyway, he carried that bird into a store, jist lookin to buy somethin, I suppose. That storekeeper feller told him to leave the bird outside. And those were the last words that storekeeper ever said. His name was Mr. John Wyler, if I recollect. I went to school with daughter and his boy.

Well, that Phineas had to clear outa Waco then. Maybe outa the county and the settled part of the State too. We dint hear nothin about him fer years, except somebody I know very well got a letter from him during the War. He said that he was ridin with Bloody Bill Anderson's outfit up in Kansas and Missouri and havin the time of his life.

Gideon is thoughtful for a moment.

We grew up not so far from each other. Not so far at all.... That boy was a coupla years older than me. Bigger, more growed up, tougher, ornerier. Lookin back, weren't nothin I coulda done better do ta stop him, at the time. Other than bushwhackin im, er shootin im in his sleep....

He perks up. But there a plenty a people other named Phineas! It's Bible name, ain't it? Rat outa the Bible! Could well be a differnt person. This whole country is crawling with incomin settlers, prospectors, buffalo hunters, Army deserters, soiled doved-- ever kind person who might be named Phineas! Er use it as fake name. One thang I have learned from playin cards-- guessin somethin and gitting too sure about yer guess and makin assumptions-- that's when the hammer of bad luck will come down on ye.

Grognardsw wrote: ↑Thu Mar 23, 2023 1:04 am

Mike the mustache, and Davidson. Got it. I edited my post. To help me keep track of names, I’ll start a list.

Harvey Adler - buys stolen horses
Rick and the boys - rustlers we killed outside house

The letter implicates these people:

Louise Shephard (ex-soldier horse rustler, “business partner” with rustler we killed)
Farley Shepherd (brother, ex-soldier rustler)
Phineas ________ (eccentric cold killer)

Likely a little typo, but the letter was signed Louis, rather than Louise. Otherwise-- exactly Yes and right on..

Paladin smiled at Gideon’s words. The eccentric man had gone from threatening to kill him to grudging acceptance to a reintroduction.

“Well I’m glad my telling the priest to help get you of jail got me something,” replied Paladin, shaking Gideon’s hand.

Paladin handed Gideon his calling card, which said “Have Gun, Will Travel. Wire Paladin, San Francisco”

“That Phineas fellow sounds like a cold- stone killer. He needs to be put down like a rabid dog. If he served with Capt. Bill Anderson, the same mentioned in the letter, then the one you knew is the same guy.”

Paladin listened to Davidson’s proposal.

“We’ll see,” he said, replacing the gag.

Paladin walked over to the others and discussed the matter quietly so the rustlers wouldn’t hear.

“Davidson will sign a confession, but wants to walk free. Afraid he won’t get fair justice, except in Austin, but thinks he’ll get lynched around here. I’m not for letting him go.”

“Doos, could we give him to Austin along with the confessions, as a package? He’d get a fair trial…”

William gives his 2 cents. A signed confession isn't much good if they man is nowhere to be found. It might help in the case against his confederates, until their lawyer says the letter is forged and asks us to present its author in a courtroom to verify it. Maybe we turn him in elsewhere, but letting him go free doesn't sound right to me.

"A signed confession is worth a few, when building a case of conspiracy, which this is, but the locals wont see it that way.

So your looking at letting him go with 5 dollars and head back and cash out, Where do we go from there?

Doos

Sebastian

Takes out his dagger. "I could cut a toe off for each unanswered question. You know, just to help liberate the tongues. Keep the fingers for holding the pen. Might make a shaky signature. They could save themselves the trouble if course and just admit guilt, keep all their toes, save the big ones. Can't have them running away."

He says and taps Gideon. "Here, help me get Davison's boots off. Where do we start, left foot or right?", he begins his eeny-meeny-miney-mo rhyme.

"Left foot!", he takes out a sharpening stone, spits on the pumice and rubs the edge of the blade.

"Just got to say. Admire your spunk for holding out. I can turn these toes into a fine bone necklace and sell them to the Tonkawa medicine man. Though he needs 13 toes to make me a lucky charm."

Sebastian: tries to intimidate rustlers to sign confession [1d20]=2 vs 7 Stature or 8 Luck?

Menaced by Sebastian and his knife, Davidson tries to say something through his gag. The mustached man does too, but a little less frantically.

Gideon says, Well, ah guess yer right about not bein able to run with no big toe. Y'all probably all know somebody who shot hisself in the foot-- or worse-- from carryin a pistol tucked inta his pants' waist. It's a common enough occurrence, don't know why people still do it. Anyway, I did hear of a feller that shot his big toe off lack that. They say after that he couldn't run as fast as a three-legged dog.

When his gag is removed, the mustached man says, I'll sign yer damned confession. Might as well. Y'all got the horses for evidence, don't ya? Confessin or not confessin and bein found guilty by some crooked sidewindin judge ain't no difference. Here's my confession. "Me and my brothers and ar crew bought stolen horses from some boys in Comal County. These men here found some of us in Blanco County. They shot my brothers and two others of us dead in a bushwhack at night. If that makes me a horse thief, that's what I am. Signed, Mike Duncan".

Davidson listens keenly to the man's words. Then says, Here's my confession. "Me and the Duncan brothers Rick, Phil, and Mike bought stolen horses from some boys in Comal County. It was Mr. Harvey Adler who owns a ranch in Comaltown in Comaltown that told us about em. Rick probably gave him half of the sale value of the horses for the information. That's the deal with Harvey. Then before we knew it, these men here come up on us in an old abandoned house in the middle of nowhere in Blanco County. Harvey sold us out, I don't know why the lowdown swindler done it. I don't know the men's names, except for one who introduced hisself to another one as Gideon T. McLaury. He's the one that shot Ed Mathers through a winda. All of em together shot Rick and Phil off a their horses. They was all shooting inta the night at Mort, I don't know if they got him or not. Signed, Mark Jerry Davidson."

The posse members are exhausted. They sit down in the little copse by the side of the road and eat from the food they brought (please mark of 1 days worth of food). They check their prisoners' binds, then roll out their bedrolls and sleep. As was suggested, they stand watches. During Andreas's watch, he sees the little group of Tonkawa quietly pacing down the road back toward the east. A horse in the copse snorts and the Tonkawa stop, alert. They see Andreas and relax. They nod to affirm that the job was done, raise a hand of friendship, and continue on. The posse stands watches and sleeps in the copse under the leaves and the stars through the hot south central Texas early June night.

The sun comes up early, and the men wake up refreshed. The chiggers were biting bad, but the mosquitoes no that much. They go down to the Guadalupe to take care of business, have a drink, wash their faces, and refill canteens. They munch on their dry breakfasts. They have newly-acquired firearms, and 18 horses-- including their original one, seven borrowed Army horses ($5 deposit each), and the ones taken from the rustlers. They saddle their horses and get ready to ride.

We can assume that at least the judges Doos and William and the investigator Paladin have pencil and paper for writing done the confessions and getting them signed, if that's what you choose to do.

You're on the Guadalupe River in Blanco County, approximate position as marked on the map. It's kind of hard to read. From north to south, the towns with boxes around them are Austin (capital), San Marcos, Stringtown (Wiley brothers teenage thieves and highway stickup men), and Comaltown (Harvey Adler's ranch). Major roads are black lines, of course. "Major road" means two wagons can pass each other, in most places along the road.

Paladin nodded at William and judge Doos' words. "I don't want to see them lynched locally either. Since this rustler ring crosses many towns, the regional marshall in Austin may take an interest."

"Doos, you said this is building a case of conspiracy. I think that's right. Here is our case so far: We ourselves are victims, we are a deputized posse by Deputy Harold Riney, and we got the Wiley boys verbal confession before many witnesses. We have these rustler's signed confessions, before many witnesses. We have that letter from Lou Shepherd, implicating additional people who could be chased down and prosecuted."

"Maybe we go back to San Marcos, sell the horses, get our money, hide the two prisoners out of town, then take the train or wagon to Austin (with our prisoners) and turn everything over to the regional marshall. What do you all think?"

"I'd like to make some money along the way. I recall their being job offers of guarding a train or wagons to Austin. We could do that and hit two birds with one stone. Maybe the Austin regional marshall is short-staffed and hires us to shut down the ring?"

A bit later...

"They'll be no torture to force confessions," Paladin said to Sebastion. "Some judge could say that invalidates the confession. The reality of the noose will be enough."

Paladin jotted down Mike and Davidson's confessions on paper. He kept the content to the theft of the horses only, as the other information was not relevant to their crime. He watched as the rustlers put their John Hancocks to the confessions.

"I want to see true justice done," said Paladin to them after the confessions. "Your forthrightness will help you in the eyes of the law, and in pursuit of the other guilty parties who organize this illegal network."

Sebastian

"Sure, Sir, I will bear that in mind." he says to Paladin then leaves actually quite pleased with himself thinking that he must have played his hand with a great 'poker face' to make all the good folk believe that he would actually go through with teasing toes off the rustlers.

Guarding trains and maybe being deputised? Not sure he fancies wearing a tin-star target over his chest. Still the posse crew work and seem a favourable bunch so he sticks around.

can I just get some ooc update on the parole situation and how he may be free of that.

The mustached rustler says, I ain't signin that damn confession, mister. Them's yer words, not mine. You can sign it.

Davidson says, Same fer me. A man has a right to say what he wants in his own confession, don't he? That seems like plain common sense. Even in crazy bass ackwards no-law Texas.