Bull Is Back


Bull Colton.jpgVirginia.jpgGrace.jpgVeronyca.jpg


* Essie, Malphas.

Summary: Bull returns to town, sees posters gone and Marcus wearing guns on the street.

Date: X March 1884 Date the log took place.

Bull Is Back

Silver Creek, CO

Bull Durham rides down Division on the big half Morgan. Both he and the horse look bone tired and the Marshall, on top of it, looks like a grizzly bear with not only a sore tooth, but a broken claw.

Colton moves down the street towards the sherrif's office. He slows as he sees the rider moving down the street, and stops to hail him, "Marshall Durham…." He pauses taking in the condintion of horse and rider, "You alright? You look like you ran into some trouble?"

Riding the black stallion that she brought from her homeland, the redheaded Veronyca makes her way along the street. She has no particular destination in mind, and uses one hand to hold the reins. Lifting her free hand, she nudges the brim of her hat up a little. A smile touches the corners of her lips, and at a light signal, the stallion stops and whickers softly, tossing his head and setting the tack to jingle softly.

Stepping out of the hotel comes a pair of ladies: one petite and white, the other more solid and mulatto. The petite one can't be more than 18 or 20 years old, while the mulatto is closer to her mid-forties. Virginia pauses to make sure that her companion is properly dressed, and Essie grumbles about wearing overly-done-up-frocks-from-paris.
"That's quite enough out of you, Essie," the younger woman says archly. "You already heard the Sheriff say that you'll turn heads in this thing." The mulatto huffs. "Ah ain't be wantin' ta turn no heads, Miz Ginny. Dat's what de good Lawd done putchoo on dis earth fahr… Look out, Miz Ginny!" She's suddenly shifting herself between the little white woman and Bull. "Dat be de Debil hissef ridin' inta town! Ah knows it!"

Perhaps the thing that most immediately would catch someone's attention is this woman's hair. It's silken and soft and brown. Really, really brown, like chestnuts and cinnamon and chocolate. It's the shade of deep red-tinted brown that could only occur in nature, that bottles simply cannot reproduce.
Somewhere in her late teens or early twenties, the young woman's figure has been sculpted into the ideal form of a Parisian fashion plate. Her assets are neither overflowing nor small, giving her a balanced shape that is comely and easy to dress. She can hardly be an inch over 5'4", and she has all the finely boned features of the traditionally feminine. Her soft oval face is delicate in its charms: high cheekbones, a softly rounded chin, a nose that is dainty and adorable, and lips that are generous and curving. Her eyes are slightly almond shaped and a rich brown, veiled by a thick dark fringe of lashes.

She wears a bustled walking dress of rich garnet silk; the underskirt is box pleated, with a narrow-plaited ruffle below the edge, which is cut in points. Luxurious drapery is fastened on the jacket-like corseted bodice, cut in the latest Paris fashions and is trimmed with a band of embossed velvet, with cuffs and high collar of the same. Hand-tatted lace peeks from the bodice's collar, attached to a smartly sewn blouse of a fine cream lawn. A velvet bonnet, trimmed with satin surah, flowers, and feathers is perched jauntily over her dark, cunningly pinned tresses.

The Marshall reins in and gives Colton a flat, piggish eyed stare, full of malice. "We had us a long ride for nothing," came the cold reply. "That damned halfbreed cleared out of the country afore I got to Trinidad, and ain't no one saying where he went."
Pushing back the brim of his hat to glare harder at Colton, he asks in a low, deadly voice, "And I seem to be missing some Federal property, Sheriff. I ain't seen not one of them gun ban posters since I rode in. Now I wonder where they might be?" At the mulatto's outburst, however, he turns that flat eyed look at the darker woman and jabs out a thick finger, "You be minding your mouth, darkie, or I'll by God have you put someplace you won't like."

Colton shrugs, "They weren't put up good. I didn't want to have to arrest ye for littering.. So I picked 'em up on yer behalf.. Collect 'em any time you want.." He thinks for a moment, and reaches into his coat pocket, and pulls out a pint bottle of rye. He holds it up so the lawman can see it, and tosses it up to him, "You look like hell.. Why don't ye take that Morgan down to the stables, and have 'im curried.. have a snort of that.. Then you can harrass me proper?"

"You will not lay a -hand- on my Essie," Virginia suddenly bursts out, dark eyes snapping as she pushes her way forward to glare right back at Bull. She's got that real 'genteel' southern belle drawl, and apparently all the fighting passion of the Rebs. "If you deprive me of mah companion then Ah shall be forced ta send for mah lawyers and have them mount an investigation!"
"No, Miz Ginny," Essie hisses, trying to pull her charge back. "It jes' ain't worth it… Jes' yuh come away naw, an' we'll go play us a game o' cards…"

Shifting her weight slightly, Veronyca leans forward a little, bringing a hand to brush her fingers over the stallion's neck. Her green-eyed gaze settles on the pair coming out of the hotel, and one of her eyebrows quirks upwards a touch. The stallion paws at the ground with a front hoof, seeming impatient, and the redheaded woman lightly pats his neck again before smoothly dismounting. She leaves the reins resting around the horn of the saddle, then lowers to one knee next to the stallion, her fingers moving softly over the animal's skin.

He didn't even bother to try and catch the bottle, just backhanded it away to smash onto the frozen ground. "Whyn't you just nail them up right and proper then, Colton? Mebbe I ought to run your ass in for good measure."
Sitting up as Virginia stands up to him, the big Marshall hooks a leg over the horn of his saddle, smirking down at the small woman, "Well, begging your pardon Ma'am," he says, almost politely, though in a sneering tone, "Reckon I never knew niggahs was given the right to sass no white folks. Makes all that time under General Lee worth spit, now don't it." his face darkens, "You keep her tongue under control, Missy or I'll have the skin from her back."
Something troubled the big stallion under him, and the horse snorted, pawing the ground as his lips peeled back to blare a challenge to Veronyca's horse. "Here now Malphas, you settle yourself." The big hand pulls back on the rein as he quickly regains his seat, "You settle, you ornery cuss."

Colton doesn't seem bothered by the bottle either way. He shrugs, "Thats up to you Marshall.. I jest have a hard time hearin the words "good" and "measure" out of ye.. You don't do neither.."

The stallion stands peacefully next to the redheaded woman, and he lowers his head to nose softly at her shoulder, whickering quietly. Lifting her left hand, she lightly pushes his nose away, then continues to feel gently along his leg. At the challenge given, his ears perk and the black stallion lifts his head, nostrils flaring and tail rising to swish energetically. He echoes the challenge with one of his own, tossing his head again and moving his leg away from Veronyca's touch. Casting a glance towards the other stallion, she swiftly rises to her feet and reclaims the reins, giving a tug on them to bring the horse's attention to her. The stallion fidgets and starts to sidestep, but the Irishwoman doesn't seem too concerned.

"Don't you dare talk to me about Uncle Robert," Virginia says, hands finding her hips. "Mah father was one o' his right hand men in the War an' we were neighbours, so don't -you- go tellin' me about him; I like as not know him better than you. He was a gentleman and he'd never have tollerated your behaviour, you unsavory grump of a malcontent!"
Essie's eyes shoot wide and then close as if in prayer. "Please, suh," she says to Bull. "Ah ain't meant no harm. Mah little Miss, she jes' tired from de road. Is jes' we women folk like ta git all fussy when we's git tired… Jes' please let me take mah Miss back inside an' put huh ta bed?"

Durham eyes the Sheriff for a long moment, holding his big beast under tight control as it begins to fight the heavy handed grip on it's reins and sidestep, unfortunately towards Virginia, "I'd do the whole damned territory a good turn if I put you away. And it'd be a damned pleasure, even if you ain't worth a tinker's dam in reward money, for no more reason than to shut your smart mouth up."
He saws on the reins, and says sharply, "I told you to settle yourself." Snorting and blowing, his eyes red with pent up fury the horse settles, stamping his iron-shod hoof impatiently.
baring his teeth in what might have been a grin, were it not evil, he growls, "Mebbe the General didn't like my manner none, but he sure appreciated my shooting them damned Yankees." his face turned cold again, and he snapped, "You listen to your girl, Missy, and get along inside with you. liable to be shooting going on here any second." The hard eyes fix on Colton as he swings out of the saddle.

Colton watches the big man carefully, as he dismounts, his eyes dropping to the man's hands. He shrugs slightly, "Well the way I figure it Marshall Durham… You ain't listened to a word I told ye less it was spittin poison at ye. Yer got a harder head than a mule, and I reckon I'm a heap easier to catch than that breed you been chasin. You'll have to listen sooner or later..If I'm in yer cell.. It'll be easier to talk to ye is all."

The black stallion sidesteps a little more, looking only briefly to the redheaded woman at his side before his attention fixes on the other stallion. He whickers and snorts, and Veronyca gives another sharp tug on the reins. She uses the reins to pull the animal around in a circle with her at the center, spending his energy rather than leaving it to build up. A second circle is forced on the stallion, and a third, and the stallion gives his head a shake before whickering softly, his tail swishing with mild agitation.
<OOC> You say, "Pose in Marcus, right after Virginia"
<OOC> Marcus says, "Okay."

"You big coward," Virginia hisses, swatting Essie away as the mulatto tries to -drag- her back inside the hotel. "You hide behind your past glories as a Rebel fighter ta run around droppin' the names of -great- men like my namesake usin' your own greed as an excuse to bully good folks around… If mah father was heah, he'd tan your hide and nail it to the back of a poke wagon… It's cads like you that're the reason the Yanks -won-, why mah beloved Virginia was denied her rights as a free state!" She's getting so angry that she's begining to cry.

Marcus is making his way harmlessly down the street, cigarette hanging from his lips. He peers a bit at the goings on and decides to approach the crowd. A look at Colton, "What's happening here?" He looks around and sees the Marshall who gets a peer.

The arrival of the newcomer draws Durham's attention, and the flat, piggish eyes narrowed. The left hand dropped from the reins allowing the stallion his head and the Marshall drew. It wasn't a fast draw, by any means, but the Remington appeared in his hamlike fist , pointing at the man as he barked, "YOU! Drop them guns real careful now, you hear boy?" the yawning maw of the forty four fixed unwavering on Marcus.
Drawn guns! This the stallion knew and understood. Rearing and wheeling on his hind legs, the fighting horse lashed out at the nearest person with his front hooves, screaming in defiance and anger, snapping at Colton, then Virginia and the mulatto, hammering the ground with his hooves.
"I said drop 'em boy!" Durham's voice lashed out again, "You're in violation of a town ordinance." Everyone else was suddenly ignored as his attention focused on Marcus, confident the stallion would have his back.
<OOC> Marcus says, "Gah. You told me to pose in after Virginia!"
<OOC> Marcus retracts!
<OOC> Virginia says, "You didn't leave them at home did you. -_-"
<OOC> You say, "Muhaha! UhUh..I been looking for some sucker to violate the gun ban, and you are IT son"

Marcus is making his way harmlessly down the street, cigarette hanging from his lips. He peers a bit at the goings on and decides to approach the crowd. A look at Colton, "What's happening here?" He looks around and sees the Marshall who gets a peer. As the horse begins to kick, he spots a foot going for Colton, who he pulls out of the way. Afterwards he points at the Marshall, "Get your damn horse under control!" He does decide to comply with the request after pulling Colton back. He unbuckles his gun belt ad drops it down to the ground.

<Public> RP it or FORGET IT! Cernunnos says, "BTW folks..if it wasn't told before while I was out? @mail me the item number of your gear, so if it gets stolen, we can find it..and the thieves punished appropriately? By hanging, preferably."

Colton shakes his head, and moves towards Durham, and Marcus. He glances at the marshall as he passes, "Put that thing away you idiot. He isn't going to draw on you…" He moves toward Marcus, and nods once, "Evenin Marcus… Marshall here is throwin his weight around, and its considerable…" He glances down, and leans over to pick up the gun belt, and looks back towards Durham, "Thats enough."

Shifting the reins slightly, Veronyca steps to the horse's side, looking over the animal's back to watch things unfold for a moment. Lifting the stirrup of the saddle, she adjusts the setting of the strap, then lowers the stirrup back to the animal's side. Lifting her free hand, she rubs the animal's neck calmly, and the horse lowers his head to whicker softly, much more calm now than moments ago.

Essie, by this time, has changed tactics. If the little Southern Belle will not come inside? Essie will push her into a chair and sit on her. "Naw yuh jes' stay -right heah-, Miz Ginny. Yous jes' too riled up 'cause yo deddy an' all.

Virginia… is not pleased.

Marcus just eyeballs Bull for a moment and says, with a just a -slight- bit of sarcasm, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure." He flicks his cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out. A look at Colton conveying the 'I'd rather this guy get shot, but I'm going to stay cool for reasons you should know'.

It would appear that the stallion is under control, by training if not under hand, as he lowers his head, still snorting and glaring at Marcus and Colton. Bull circles around the other way, still pointing the Russian at the pair, and holds out his left hand, "Give 'em over, Colton." With a slight…very slight..wave of the barrel, he says, "You there, boy, start heading for my office. We're gonna have us some time together," reconsidering, he adds, "You shuck yours too, Colton. Seems to me you are aiding and abetting a criminal, makes you just as guilty. Judge can figure it all out."

Colton considers Bull for a few moments, and shakes his head, "Nope.. Ain't gonna happen Marshall. I ain't goin. He ain't goin.. And you know what you can do with aidin and abettin." He glances around, "You folks go on about yer business. Shows over." He looks toward the woman with the horse, "Get that animal out of here… " To Virginia, and Essie, "Y'all get inside now..Get off the street." He turns his attention back to the other lawman, and hands the gun belt back to Marcus, "Get on out of here son.. Go see to your wife.. Don't put that gun on, and don't look back.. Jest go." He lets out a long breath watching Durham, "This is trouble you don't need Marshall Durham."

Marcus takes the gun belt back from Colton and drapes it over his shoulder. He grabs Colton by the shoulder, "Don't go acting stupid, Colton. I know I've been doing it less lately, but that doesn't mean you should go around making up for it." He does however get his hand into a drawing position, but he does a pretty decent job at disguising it as just steadying his belt on his shoulder.

Softly, Veronyca continues to watch for a moment more. Her green gaze settles on Colton when he speaks in her direction, and she gives a faint nod that's barely a movement at all. Smoothly, then, does the redheaded woman mount up onto the black stallion. She takes a moment to settle the reins into one of her hands, and with the light touch of her heel, she turns the horse and starts to make her way back up the street and away from the commotion. She doesn't want to end up shot, and off the street seems the best way of preventing that. Besides, she was told to get off the street.

Essie takes advantage of Virginia being off-balance to yank her inside when the Sheriff says to git. But not too long there after several of the men from inside are stepping out to watch what's about to happen.

Bull has been around for a long time, and has seen all of the tricks, including Marcus' little slick move. But, it had been a long hard ride for nothing, and maybe he was a little tired, or maybe it was what he had intended..but his shot went wild, chewing a piece from the awning over the walk.

Malphas whinnies angrily, darting forward with bared teeth, straight at Colton, iron shod hooves slashing at the Sheriff as Bull lumbers forward, recocking the Remington.

Colton blinks in surprise as the shot rings out. His hands slaps leather by instint, and draws. The shot is hurried, and altered by the morgan horse. The bullet whines away into the darkness, as the powder from two shots cloud the air.

Colton blinks in surprise as the shot rings out. His hands slaps leather by instint, and draws. The shot is hurried, and altered by the morgan horse. The bullet whines away into the darkness, as the powder from two shots cloud the air.

Marcus sees Bull take his shot, and by pure, unbridled instinct, he slips the Dragoon from his belt. He pulls the hammer back and puts a bullet in the shoulder of Bull's gun arm. The handcannon lets out an alarming crack as the shot rings out and Marcus stands there, bewildered at his own actions.

Little feet bring a tiny redhead running from the east. It doesn't take long for word of a gunfight to spread in such a small town, and Grace heard the names involved and came as fast as her feet could carry her, a cast-iron frying pan in hand.

That's right, Bull. Fear. Fear the pan.

She makes sure not to yell out in her panic, lest Marcus be distracted, but darn it! She -just- married that man! She's not about to lose him now…

The slug hits the big Marshall in the shoulder, and the Remington falls to the ground as it partly turns Bull around..only helping the heavy left fist crack into the side of Marcus' head like a sledgehammer. The marshall grunts with the pain and the impact of hard knuckles on hard head, and draws back a big, spurred boot with the intention of raking the man with the sharp tines.

Colton tries to push between Bull, and Marcus to keep them apart, but only succeeds in turning his back on the Morgan. A well placed hoof catches him in the middle of the back, and sends him sprawling past the pair, and skidding along the ground in a heap. He cries out, looking up as he tries to untangle himself, get up, and get breath back into his lungs all at the same time.

Marcus is cracked upside the head by Bull, but it doesn't seem to phase him at all, it does't even draw blood. All right, he has already given the man more chances than usual. He presses the barrel of his Dragoon to the Marshall's stomach and pulls the trigger.

Not even the Bull can take a gutshot from close range like that, and the heavy slug doubles him over, dropping the Marshall into the street.

Grace scurries across the square, skirting the horse and scooping up the fallen Remington while Bull is busy with Marcus. That's when she jumps because her husband's gun goes off at point blank. She just stands there, staring before dropping the gun back to the ground and running pellmell into Marcus' arms, sobbing.

Colton winces, and pushes himself off the ground. He can hardly speak, waving a couple of men from the crowd to go after the Morgan. He wheezes, and leans over hands on his knees for a moment sucking in air. He swallows, and looks up, standing to move over towards the Marshall. His voice is near a whisper, "Come on Marcus.. Lets get 'im to the Doc's…"

Virginia comes racing out of the hotel and up to the fallen Colton. "Mr. Reynolds," she gasps, checking him over for signs of life and movement. "Mr. Reynolds! Are you badly hurt?"

Marcus runs his hand through his hair as the man falls to the floor, obviously shaken. He barely responds when Grace runs to him. His only reaction is, "He…he pulled on me." He just slips the heavy revolver into the gunbelt. He looks down at Grace and says, "Run on home, Grace." He slips away from her and rolls the Marshall over to get ready to help him to the doctor.

Colton waves a hand to Virgina, before turning his attention to the Marshall, "This is against my better judgement. Somebody go get the Doc up…Hurry.. he's hurt bad." He nods to Marcus, "Get his other arm.. Lets get him across the street."

"Nae, Marcus. I'll be stayin' wit ye," she says weakly. Grace pauses for a moment. "Please?" She hears Colton's remark and pauses, biting her lip, waiting for Marcus to tell her yea or nay.

Virginia nods and starts to run down the street towards where she'd seen the doctor's office earlier today.


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License