A Near Miss

Players: Teagan William

teagan_icon.jpg william_icon.jpg

NPCs: One of "The Preacher's" Men

Summary: Lady Fitzgerald could have lost her head, but was saved from it by Mister Franklin

Date: December 24, 1883

A Near Miss

Epona Ranch

Teagan's booted toes raise and toss the snow before her with each step as she walks from the stables towards the front of the homestead. Oddly, she wears a full length coat of Russian black mink, an elegant and more than likely inappropriate garb for this setting. She presents an elegant visage to any who may see her and many would probably consider her quite eccentric. Her aquamarine eyes are downcast as she watches her feet, unconscious of whom may arrive, a delicate smile curving her lips.


The chair on the porch creaks in it's repeated motion. "His kingdom come…." Dark blue eyes peer down from the elevated position, taking stock of the prey below. A grisly smile of rotted teeth shows through his chapped lips, head turning just low enough to keep those frightening eyes out of sight…Only the unshaven remains of the tall, thin man's chin remain… "His will be done…"

Teagan's form stills at the sound, her head slowly turning towards the man. With a straightening of her back, she remembers the words of both Will and Colton, truly feeling as though her life is passing before her eyes. It is with grave sorrow that this man's face may be the last one she sees with her last breath. With a clearing of her throat she asks, "Is there something I may help you with, sir?"

"Interesting." He breaths, slowly rising to his feet and stepping forward. Each step is slow and delibrate, those deep, methodic blue eyes slowly coming into view. "Tha' a woman as beautiful and well bred as yourself 'as come ta do the things that you done.." Those rotted teeth come into view again when he smiles, reaching the point where he's mere feet away from the beautiful red head. "My boss would like to see you somethin' desprite…"

You say, "Y-Your…" She breathes bracingly to tamp down the fear which threatens to tighten the words from her throat, "Your boss?"

"Yea. Folks round here call 'im the Preacher…" Those dark blue eyes scan the surrounding treeline once…Much as William had done, pausing on a certain area for a long, long moment. "You see, 'eh thinks ya know where Franklin is….Well, and he heard bout San Fransisco. Says you've been a naughty girl."

Teagan does not acknowledge her naughtiness as she responds, "Mister Franklin comes and goes as the wind. I do not know his destination nor his arrivals. He simply appears at times, sir." She does not step back, fearing he would take that as proof she is terrified.

"Mistah Franklin is the biggest sinnah we know of. And he's gonna be caught, no matter how many of you we need to kill in the process." Even so, the tall man takes a single step forward, a flash of steel catching light as one hand pulls his knife from his belt. "Now I'm gonna need ya ta come along quietly…"

Teagan still stands her ground, "I am not coming with you, sir. If your boss wishes to meet with me, then he shall have to simply do the neighborly thing and come round on his own. I have had far too many people assume to come here and tell me so and so needs to see me, then whisks me off to heaven knows where at the detriment to my safety. And so, if that does not meet with your approval, I suggest you do what you were planning since you arrived and stop the flashing of the blade and attempting to strike fear into me. Now, if there is a message you would like to leave for Mister Franklin, I offer no guarantees he will receive it. As well, if there is one for me, please deliver it and be on your way." Her bravado is quite false, though the flush of anger on her cheeks is not.

"Mayhaps you misunderstood…" It's then that an ungodly strong hand grasps her upper arm, attempting to drag her at least a step closer. "You -will- come wit me. And you -will- be lucky to make it outta this wit those looks…" The rotten smile turns all the more wicked. That knife comes dangerously forward, positioned mere inches from her throat. "Now come with me to da wagon…..Or I'll stick ya right here…"

Teagan's reflexes present themselves (god knows how many prison guards incurred her well-placed knee) as she lifts her knee and feeling it make purchase in the man's groin. She does not even wait to see the result, but feels his initial groan and slump towards her. Quickly, she runs towards the house, where the shotgun she was given is placed near the door.

And collapse forward he does, dropping to a knee in the snow just moments before a single click is heard. To anyone who had been around weapons for any time, the sound would be distinguishable. A forty four's hammer cocking back into place. "Hold it!" The man hollars through coughing sputters, squeezing the trigger and sending a round into the snow by Teagan's feet. Again, the weapon is cocked, though the sound waves from the first shot still linger in the air.

Teagan does not stop, even if she dies from a gunshot to the back. Sure-footedly, she zig zags to the door, her near frozen hands practically ripping the fittings from the door in an attempt to open it. Unrealized, tears of both anger and distress course down her cheeks as she cries out gratefully as the door yields and she reaches inside for the shotgun.

She never makes it to the gun. The steadiest arms a person could imagine intercept her as soon as the fragile body pushes open the door. "Teagan…Shhh. Calm down." That familiar steady tenor immediately affirms the person holding her. William Franklin. "If you'll stay here for a moment….it appears I have a meeting."

Teagan shrieks as the arms enfold her and instinctually, the urge to fight surges up within her until she hears the voice…at which point, all she desires to do is slump with gratitude into his arms and hold to him for dear life, but his next words disavow her of such display now, "Kill him, Will. By god..kill him!"

"Oh, boy…Do I ever plan on it." In a rather uncharacteristic gesture for the man, he squeezes Teagan's gentle frame in one embrace before stepping around her…toward the door. The heavy wood swings aside microseconds from that first gunshot breaks the eerie silence. "I heard you were looking for me…" The cold tone takes on an underpinning of sarcasm. The only sound Will's boots have ever made are the sound of him descending that woman's front steps. "Well, here I am…."

Blood seeps quickly from that young man's new shoulder wound. He lays rather still upon the blanket of white even as red begins to encircle his body. "You…..You're gonna die, Franklin…..He's gonna come for you….And that whore in there…"

Teagan has yet to shut the door, watching the encounter from just inside the parlor, her face set in an expression of pure hatred for the man lying with the shot in him. She refrains from speech, foregoes going to his aid and hopes his death is swift, which is the only gracious thought she has for him. Her eyes, however are trained once more on William Franklin, thankful of his presence. Black kidgloved hands grasp the shotgun, knowing she will not need to use it, but the feel of it a comfort as it is held against her protectively.

"Where is he? This boss of yours, hm?" Will's dark smile tugs the corners of his lips. His long legs lead him up to the man very easily…But curiously, they don't stop until the sole of one of those calvary boots is rested directly on that fresh gunshot wound. "And let me teach you a lesson in manners….First of all, you never call a proper lady a whore." Visable effort is put into stepping on that man, though the smile never disappears from Will's face. "And second, you answer a man when he asks you a question. Where is your boss hiding?"

"Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come…." The man's muttering lips become all the louder with the pain he experiences at Will's torture. Those deep blue eyes do look up in terror, though, at the face of the gunfighter above him. "Thy will be done…."

Teagan's voice is tight, though dull as she whispers, "Finish it, Will." Never had she wished for another's death as she does this man's. Her hands grasp the shotgun and if she were divested of gloves, one would witness the whites of her knuckles as she holds onto it for dear life. Her eyes narrow, feeling that if any man could have murdered the woman of the night under the guise of doing his boss' bidding, it could have been this man and his fate is well-deserved.

"Well. If that's all you've got to say…" William tilts his head slightly to the side, his near perfect teeth showing brightly in comparison. "Do me a favor? Tell Lucifer I said 'Hello?'" The final shot lands squarely in the man's chest, immediately ceasing all signs of moving and causing a slight stream of steam to rise from the fresh wound. Steel meets leather once more when the outlaw holster's his gun. He then leans down, closes the man's eyes, and starts back toward the house….His attitude clearly more bothered then before. "You're alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Teagan's hands do not loosen from the weapon, still maintaining a death-grip on stock and barrel. Meeting Will's eyes, her face remains pale but for two crests of angry color on her cheeks as she quickly shakes her head. "I…I did not allow him to." And it is only then that she begins trembling.

William looks a bit apprehensive as his hand reaches for that gun. Slowly, his own deerskin glove closes around the barrel and pulls it away. "You did well, Teagan…Very well. So much so that you're still alive." He sets that gun against the doorframe once more, pulling that heavy piece of wood closed and locking it mere moments before placing his dexterious hands on those quivering arms. "Come now…You're alright. And look. This is my first time inside your home. Uninvited. Isn't there some horrible consequence for that?"

Teagan looks up at him and simply presses her face to his coat, still frosty from the out of doors, the surge of self-preservation which kept her upright now seeping from her as the man outdoor's lifeblood spilled from him. Her gloved hands lift to grasp at the front of his coat, breathing deeply to regain some modicum of composure. Her words, whispered against him are soft, "The second time, Will. You were here when I tried to get your gun."

"Alright…The second…" Will chuckles quietly, wrapping his arms all the way around the fragile looking woman. "We're faced with something awful now, though….They're going to come back…"


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