|
|
Post by Angel Eyes on Oct 9, 2015 15:00:31 GMT
It was late afternoon when Lee van Sentenza arrived in Lanark. He would have been mistaken for a priest were it not for the holster visible beneath his coat. Bedecked in black and squinting beneath his wide brimmed hat, he saddled his horse and dusted himself off. Satisfied, he turned and surveyed the street before making for the steps of the "Watering Hole". Here, he hoped to make inquiries regarding the whereabouts of William 'Curly Bill' Brocius. As he crested the steps and made for the saloon doors he noticed the "wanted" poster for the very man in question, nailed outside the establishment's door. He pulled it off the pin, folded it and tucked it into his breast pocket.
Once inside, he instructed the barkeep to bring him a bottle of whiskey as he made for a table in the corner of the room, where he could keep his back to the wall while watching and listening to the conversations in the saloon. It was practically empty when he arrived. Content to wait, he sat and anticipated the information he had come to gather.
|
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Oct 9, 2015 15:49:38 GMT
The Bartender's hands were shaking as he placed the bottle on Lee's table. He cautiously asked the him how long he would be staying, before disappearing into a back room. With the town's population booming due to Doctor Murray's embetterments, perhaps it was unusual for the bar to be so quiet.
|
|
|
|
Post by Angel Eyes on Oct 9, 2015 16:20:04 GMT
Sentenza said nothing. He noted the bartender's nervousness and sat for several minutes contemplating the strangeness of the saloon's quietude. He eventually resolved to rise and to follow the bartender through the door at the rear of the room.
The reluctance of the locals to drink at this establishment that afternoon had elicited in Sentenza a feeling that things were amiss. With luck, he could speak with the bartender in private in the rear room, getting the information he sought.
|
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Oct 9, 2015 17:34:47 GMT
As Lee entered the backroom, a handgun was immediately pointed at his head by a man hidden behind the door. Another man, seemingly Curly Bill, held a knife to the the head of the bartender. "Well then, howdy pardner. How can we be of assistance?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Angel Eyes on Oct 10, 2015 11:23:52 GMT
"Ah, Brocius my good man. I was hoping I would find you here. Funny you should ask. I have a proposition for you."
Sentenza eyed the gun disdainfully. He cleared his throat deliberately.
"I would discuss it with you but think such talk at gun and knife point rather uncouth. It would be to your advantage to cooperate."
|
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Oct 10, 2015 13:23:54 GMT
Curly Bill hesitated for a moment weighing up his options. Eventually he nodded to his friend, most probably Robert Martin, who dutifully lowered his gun. Curly Bill kept the knife held to the throat of the barkeep, and indicated he was ready to hear Lee's proposition.
|
|
|
|
Post by Angel Eyes on Oct 10, 2015 13:30:35 GMT
"I have a big job coming up and I need men. That's why I came to Lanark. I heard you were here and thought you sounded like the sort of men I need. I'll agree to split the proceeds 50/50 with you, and I'll give you 50 dollars up front if you come with me to my camp, about 3 miles west of here, near Kilbourne Hole."
|
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Oct 10, 2015 16:03:22 GMT
"Hmm... Sure. We'll go, we'll need to clean up first though." Curly Bill slit the bartender's throat, and agreed to follow Angel Eyes.
|
|
|
|
Post by Angel Eyes on Oct 10, 2015 22:53:21 GMT
Sentenza smiled amicably and allowed Brocius to walk back out to the bar ahead of him.
At the very instant Brocius' spur crossed the threshold of the doorway a white knuckled and burly fist came into view above his head. It was clutching Sentenza's corked whiskey bottle. With a dull thud the receptacle made contact with the outlaw's crown with such force that had Sentenza's mind not been preoccupied with the situation at hand, his immediate reaction would have been to wonder how it did not shatter. In any eventuality, "Curly Bill" fell to the wooden floor with a resounding and satisfying thump.
Sentenza turned on his heel. In the fraction of a second it had taken him to see Brocius' associate standing before him, he had unholstered and cocked his piece.
"Drop your weapon, son. It'd be a shame to make me waste a bullet. "
While waiting for the young man's compliance and while maintaining eye-contact, Sentenza turned his head toward Fat John.
"I hope that didn't kill him, Boaz. He's worth more alive than dead."
|
|
|
|
Post by Admin on Oct 11, 2015 13:45:54 GMT
The knock-out blow to the head seemed to have done the trick. After waiting a few moments, it was clear Curly Bill was not returning to his feet. Robert Martin pondered for a second, before drawing his pistol and firing. Fortunately for Angel Eyes, he missed with his first shot and was quickly killed by return fire.
|
|
|
|
Post by Angel Eyes on Oct 11, 2015 17:08:47 GMT
Upon tying the unconscious Brocius' hands and feet with rope, Fat John hauls the unconcious outlaw onto his shoulder. Under his arm he carries the bullet-ridden corpse of his erstwhile accomplice.
Sentenza and Boaz leave the establishment and make for the Sheriff's office, expectant of the reward they have earned.
|
|
