Players:
NPCs:
* Segenam
Summary: A new preacher comes to town. A welcome dinner turns into a pseudo-standoff. Tall tales are told.
Date: 14 February, 1884.
Living the Word, Part 1
General Store & Blacksmith's Residence
Jesse makes his way into the general store. He removes his hat and steps past a leaving couple, moving his way to where the groceries are. Grabbing a crate he begins to fill it with items. Baking soda, salt, coffee, sugar, spices, dried meats, that sort of thing.
Arden's settled in by the small stove, water steaming in the kettle as she warms it. A small collection of cups and a plate of biscuits are over in the tiny eating area, just by the two tables, but her head turns as the door jingles, and her attention pauses on the new face, "Afternoon, friend."
Long distance to Ace: Ohls got a little jealous last night, it made me a bit peevish.
"Afternoon miss," Jesse says with a dip of his head, smiling as he stops near the Bibles, loading a good ten of them into the box. A box of playing cards, two blankets, a cooking pot and some bacon and some ham, a container of flour. "How are you?" he asks as he pauses, setting down his crate.
"There's tea about to be brewed, if you want some. And thank you for the inquiry, I'm quite well." Arden steps away from the stove, taking the teapot with her, and pouring the water into two seperate cups, before she adds a spoon os leaves to each. "Quite a few bibles…you just coming into town?" She steps to offer a hand, "Arden Ohls, I'm the town's blacksmith."
"I am. New to town I mean," he says as he puts down the crate - he has the light drawl of Alabama, still there in his speech. He takes the hand in his strong right one, shaking it firmly. "Jesse Young, pleased to meet you Miss Ohls. And thank you for the tea," he says with a full smile. "I was a bit parched there, to be honest."
Arden's hands are likely as calloused and rough as yours, sure sign that she's not just the blacksmith in name, and she offers a smile to the introduction, "Terrible time of year to be traveling out this way. What brings you to Silver Creek?" Her own accent is northern, french-canadien, if you've the ear, but her english is perfect, "Well, it shouldn't been too long. Few minutes, if that. The stove's still hot, if you feel like warming your hands."
"It's not that bad. I've gotten used to the cold. I was assigned out here,or guided to come out here I should say," he says as he leaves his crate on the counter and moves over near the stove. "I haven't ever been out this way, at least not in a long time. And I thought it might be good to stretch my old legs and explore a new area. ANd see if I could help," he adds.
"Who assigned you to come out here?" Arden's leaves you to the stove, doing her own bit of shopping, though she seems to be getting more household supplies then food, "This is a small town, I don't imagine it finds its way into the minds of many companies, except maybe as the ranchers and horse traders might think of the place."
"Well, that would be the good Lord, indeed," he says as he rubs his hands over the stove, smiling a bit. "Even ranchers and horse traders need our Father, after all. What about you, what brought you from Canada all the way over here?" he asks.
Arden ahs, nodding, as she returns to check on the tea, setting aside her basket, and finding the tea ready, sets out sugar and cream, and the plate of biscuits, "Yes, many of the townspeople are christians, though I have heard there is a small jewish population. I can't be completely certain of the exact numbers, though, as I'm neither." A lift of her shoulders at the question, "Traveling, working, trying to find a place to settle, now that I'm on my own."
Jesse nods, "You aren't yourself? And now you're alone?" he asks. He removes his coat, and takes a seat, scooting himself in slightly. "Blacksmith - was that a family trade, or something that you picked up on your own as an adult?"
Arden settles close to the stove, though she does take her cup of tea with her, and she clarifies, "I am neither a Christian nor a Jew." That's said simply, and honestly, before she takes a sip, and finding it hot, returns to just holding the cup in her hands, seeming to feel the heat little if at all. A hazard of both blacksmiths and glassblowers, to lose the ability to feel hot and cold with their hands, "My father died two years ago this spring. My mother was long since passed. And my father was a blacksmith and a farrier. I apprenticed with him." A beat, before she continues, "What about you? were your family involved in the church?"
Jesse smiles, "Not … particularly. Well, they attended church, my mother was a schoolmarm and my father was a sherriff," he says as he settles into his seat, lifting his tea to take a small sip from it. "I found the Lord later in life, myself. After I'd already had a long life and career," he adds, stretching slightly in his seat.
Arden nods, considering, her weight resting against the end of a mostly empty shelf, "We are called to do many things in life. Some calls come later than others, and the town could certainly use someone to bring them comfort. From what I have heard…and seen…it has been a hard winter in Silver Creek." She finally sips her tea, before she moves to settle into the chair opposite you, "Have you been given a church here, or are you a traveling preacher? There is one that comes round, now and then, I'm told."
Jesse nods, "Well. I think. I'm not sure. I was sent a letter to come run the church, but I haven't seen it yet, or teh house assigned to it. I was just picking up some supplies before I rode out there," he adds, glancing over. "So do you enjoy it here? The work here, and the town?" he asks.
Arden takes one of the biscuits, hands doing busy work as she breaks it into manageable pieces, "Most of the people I have met here are quite friendly, though there are some who are not." Which is really par for the course for someone of her background, "And there are a number of poor in need, mexicans and others who live on the outskirts. But they say the woods and areas outside of town are dangerous, and filled with criminals. And worse. But I suppose I'm happy here, and I have Seg to keep me company."
Jesse nods, "Who's Seg? Your husband?" he asks as he takes another sip from his tea, and lifts a bit of biscuit, taking a bite or two from it. "Staying outside of town is a bad idea. I"ll make note of that, most definitely. What about the law around town, how are they?"
"Segenam, my horse. We came to town together after almost two years going by land across the states. He's probably sleeping across the way at the hotel's stall. His name suits him." A soft smile, though, at the thought. "he has been my closest friend since my father passed." Her lips purse, as she considers, "We have a Sheriff, Colton Reynolds. He's ramrodding over at the Epona Horse Ranch, as well. He's a good man, honest and good-hearted. He took the job when no one else would. There's a marshal in town as well, and from what I've encountered, as evil and cruel a man as you would ever like to meet. I've never met him, but I've seen the dead or almost so he's left in his wake."
Jesse thinks on that, and nods, "Hrmmm. So one good man and one not so good," he says. "Well, it's good to have a companion - a friend. One cannot walk through life alone, after all," he adds as he takes one more sip. "Do you get plenty of work here in town? If the church needs any work, I may be coming to you for nails and perhaps some tools, if you are willing," he adds. Another small sip.
"Particularly one who wants only good food and the occassional sugar cube." Arden takes one of the pieces of biscuit, chewing, swallowing, a sip of tea before she continues, "And what about you, Mr. Young? Or do you prefer another title? I didn't get your church affiliation. Do you have a family traveling with you?" A nod, at the last, however, "My shop is open for business, and I'm sure I can provide whatever you might need."
Jesse smiles, "Protestant. Methodist," he says. "And I don't have any family travelling with me, I'm afraid. For many years I was in the service, and the joke always went if the military wanted you to have a wife, they'd assign one," he says as he takes another sip. "And please, Jesse is fine. I don't stand on much formality, I spent more than enough years called Mister Young or sir."
It seems the service has given many a man reason to come out this way west, perhaps to escape what was done in the east. I have only seen the aftermath, and so I cannot say if things were better before the war than after. And you may call me Arden, if you like." She considers a moment, before she continues, "Can you also do Catholic services?"
Jesse shakes his head, "I don't know anything - at all - about their ways. God is God, of course, but the faith is different, the sacraments, all of that is quite different. I'm afraid I would merely be frustrating for them," he adds as he takes a last sip from his tea.
"Hmm," Arden considers, finishing the biscuit and refilling water to steep more tea, "If god is god, then i think they could still find him through you, even if it were not in the same fashion. At the least you could provide them with some good counsel, as I've heard most ministers do."
Jesse smiles, "I could provide counsel. I can listen as well as anyone man and Lord knows I can speak as well as any, or as long," he says as he takes another bite from the biscuit. "And of course, anyone that wanted a shoulder to lean on, I would be proud and most weloming of. Even if I may not know the specifics of their faith."
Arden's head tips, and she's curious, before she schools her expression, her voice as soft and frank as ever, "And who provides you with counsel when you need it, or gives you a shoulder to lean on? Who ministers to the minister?"
Jesse smiles and points a finger upstairs, "I suppose that's the position of the Father, yes? At least, that is waht they trained us when we were learning to minister," he says as he brushes his fingertips clean, and easy smile. "Do you mind if I were to store some supplies at your shop Miss Arden, before I get a chance to get into the church?"
"That does not seem like a fair bargain, in my opinion. To give of yourself, but receive nothing in return." Arden sets aside her dish, before she rises to wash and dry it, "Certainly. we have quite a bit of room, though I think the shop might be a bit too warm, and it is open during the day, and I could not guarantee the safety of your property, if I had to step out. But my house is large enough, as is my root cellar. You are more than welcome to store them there, and they will be safe. Did you come in the train or coach? Or did you bring a horse with you?"
Jesse gestures outside, "Horse and wagon. If you would not mind, your house would be fine," he adds, "I have a room to stay, just not enough room for my things before I move into the manse and the church proper," he adds as he rises, pushing his chair in and taking his cup over to wash and rinse it as well. "I appreciate your generous charity, thank you," he adds. "As for the fairness, it is fair enough I suppose," he adds. "I have no complaints."
"I imagine that if you did, you would have quite a few years to wait before you could file them," Arden comments, as she works with you to clean away the few dishes that were used, and to reset the area for tea, as Wade, the store owner always leaves something warm ready on the stove, "If you're inclined, we can head there now. That way you can put it out of your mind and leave yourself free to explore the town."
Jesse nods, "Thank you. I'd like that," he says with a warm smile. "All my worldly possessions and all that," he says as he gestures to the door. He snags his hat, moving to the door and holding it open, putting his hat on and moving to head to the wagon and horse that was heading outside - after paying for his crate of supplies, moving both crates to the wagon and wedging them into place.
Arden pays for her small amount after you, and then heads out into the street, giving a birdlike call towards the hotel. Footsteps announce the stallion before he comes into view, the appaloosa, as pure white as the snow only easily seen by his spots. He meanders his way over to Arden, pausing briefly to toss his head in the direction of the horse hitched to the wagon. Once he settles in besides Arden, she sets her supplies into his saddle bags. He wears only two thick blankets to protect him from the cold and a harness, going without a saddle. "The smithy isn't far, only down the road south a ways." She takes up no reins with him, simply starting off towards the shop, and he follows after. Rather like the gentleman trailing after his lady while holding her purse.
Jesse gets up onto the wagon and onods, heading out with her at a slow canter. "Fair enough," he says with a smile, moving along and pushing his hat back slightly. "You live next to the smith or atop it?" he asks as he moves along. "I imagine it has to get warm."
"In a house across the yard from it. Seg lives behind the shop, but it's built well enough that he won't risk getting overheated." She keeps the pace slow and steady, as much to preserve her footing on the muddy ground as to give you a chance to look around as they go. But it is only a block, and they soon arrive gate leading into her yard.
Jesse nods as he moves along, thoughtful. "And probably likes the free range," he adds as he pulls up in front of the house, letting the horse off the wagon and tying him to a post.
"Well, he has the run of the yard, such as it is, but he prefers to stay in the warm when he can, as you can imagine. There's room for your horse in the stall, if you want to unhitch him and get him some food and water." She steps to the entrance to the smithy, pulling out some keys to open up the shop and fold back the gate that keeps it mostly secure when the shop is closed, "You can back the wagon up into the shop, and then unhitch him and bring him through to the yard.
"Well, he has the run of the yard, such as it is, but he prefers to stay in the warm when he can, as you can imagine. There's room for your horse in the stall, if you want to unhitch him and get him some food and water." She steps to the entrance to the smithy, pulling out some keys to open up the shop and fold back the gate that keeps it mostly secure when the shop is closed, "You can back the wagon up into the shop, and then unhitch him and bring him through to the yard."
Jesse nods, bringing his wagon in, unhitching the horse once again and moving the horse to the stall, removing his blanket and rubbing the horse down, brushing and murmuring to him like a good cavalry soldier. That done, he sets the items aside and moves to secure the wagon's wheels.
Arden unburdens Seg, and after she pulls off his harness, a tap on his rump has him heading back through the back of the shop into the yard. Once the wagon is secured, Arden grabs the first crate she sees on the wagon, and starts off towards the house.
Jesse grabs a small hand wagon and pulls it off the larger wagon, stacking two crates on it and pulling it along He hums to himself as he works, pulling it across the ground. "I do appreciate this, hopefully tomorrow I cna go see the church," he calls.
"It's no trouble, Jesse. If you can't help someone who needs it, then what are you here for?" It takes quite a few trips, before all of the supplies that were in the wagon are unloaded onto the front porch and horses and wagon, now next to the house, are secured as best as can be done, "Seg will let me know if anything is wrong." That said, she unlocks the door to the house, and begins the next stage of the transfer, inside.
Jesse pulls his crates in, stacking them inside. A step back outside to get two more crates, and stacks them up, ad a third trip before he has most of the materials he apparently wants off the wagon. "Well I appreciate it," he says with sweat on his brow, lifting up a crate with a grunt as if to follow her where it should finally go. "I really do."
"You can leave them wherever would be most convenient for you. It's just myself and Abigail, who's apprenticing with me in the house. She should be around at some point, but she's been off exploring and getting to know the town as well. There's an entrance to the root cellar off of the kitchen, if you have things you'd like to keep cold."
Jesse nods, "Nothing here at least. I figured I'd buy that stuff locally," he says as he stacks up the crates carefully. "Milk and butter and beer and all that," he says as he stretches slightly. "It's good to get off the wagon at least, I can tell you that much," he adds wwith a chuckle.
"Well, feel free to make yourself at home, if you're wanting a bit of a rest. Have you had a good meal yet today? Seems like you might have been spending most of it on the wagon." Arden leaves you to put together your things, moving to turn up the stove so that it can warm the house better.
Jesse chuckles, "I could use a good bath and a good hot meal. I can settle for the latter, honestly. Do you have some meat around? Had nothing but trail rations - old ARmy issue - the whole way here. I could use some good beef and perhaps some time on a couch, if you wouldn't mind me abusing your hospitality so," he says.
Arden moves away from the stove and heads back into the kitchen, "I'll get some hot water ready for a bath. We have extra linens if you need. Brought them out in case we had to keep the Ramirez boys here with us." It doesn't take long to get the water out of the pump and into buckets and onto the stove that's always kept banked and ready. "While you're having your bath, I'll see if I can make something for dinner." having spend most of her adult life with her father, and so, technically, living in the company of a man, Arden doesn't seem much bothered by the possible impropriety. She simply does what she's accustomed to doing, substituting one father, as it were, for another.
Jesse nods, "Alright," he says, putting down his coat and helping with the buckets. "I really appreciate it. I'll offer myself for any carpentry work that you need done, once I get settled into the church. I do have a fair hand with a hammer and plow horse," he admits as he works along. "Thank you so much. This is definitely going to be rlaxing."
"No need to thank me. Almost reminds me of tending to my father, like I used to do." Despite the recent death, she seems to carry no grief in her voice at his passing, but given her heritage, perhaps that's understandable. The tub is filled halfway, with the cold water, before the hot water is added and a bucket left on the brazier with a few coals from the fire to keep it warm. "Take as much time as you need. I'm afraid I don't have much in the way of men's toiletries, but I'll assume you brought those with you." Once she's done what she can for you, she leaves you to it, returning to the kitchen, and after a trip to the root cellar to retrieve some meat and vegetables, she gets to work in the kitchen.
Jesse nods, carrying in clean clothes and an old Army field kit, smiling as he hefts it. "Indeed," he says, bowing, "Thank you again," he adds, moving to step into the bathroom. Door closed, strip down. Shave for the first time in a good way - well, trim his beard and shave his neck at least, and wash his face and brush his teeth. And then into the water to soak, closing his eyes with a sigh and the popping of eased muscles.
Once the preacher has disappeared, Arden seems to give him no more mind, content to work in the kitchen. A wide flat pan is heated on the stove and a bit of grease added to warm, while she slices the deer meat she retrieved from the cellar into five steaks, wrapping each with a thick slice of bacon, seasoning them and setting them aside while she slices potatoes and some parsnips. Those she sets to fry in the pan, before she gets out another for the steaks. A good long sear on either side, before they go into the oven to finish. Only then does she turns to making bread, flat, hearty, after the first nations fashion, baked/cooked right on the stove top. Water, and a jar of the moonshine from the cellar, though she sets that on the preacher's side of the table.
Jesse soaks for a good long while before getting out and emptying the tub. Dressed in a button down shirt, slacks, comfortable socks and shoes and a tie and suitcoat. He brushes his hair and gathers up his clothing and items, stepping out with a red cheeked smile, "That was quite nice, thank you," he aclls as he moves to store his items away. "And something smells right nice!"
"It's not beef, I'm afraid," is her answer, as she turns the potatoes, the bath having taken long enough that they're nearly done. The steaks are resting and keeping warm. "Seg and I caught a deer a little while ago, and we've got plenty of the meat stored in the cellar, and some curing out in the shed."
The lights are on in the blacksmith's house, and the smell of cooking at dinner time. The sound of muffled voices is enough to indicate that there's at least a couple of people at home.
Jesse nods, storing his items away in the crates near the living room. He makes his way into the kitchen area. "Venison is good. Some of the best venison I had was a chili near Texas, during the Indian wars," he says as he moves along. "Is there anything I can do to help, to get the food ready or set the table or the like, miss?" he asks.
Marcus steps in through the door, knocking on it as he enters. The man entering is imposing to say the least, but he's no Moses. He has a look around as if to reaffirm that he's in the right place, "This /is/ the blacksmith's residence, correct?" He asks of the party inside.
"You can set the table, and then get yourself settled. I'll bring everything over when it's ready." Arden doesn't much seem like one to need help, well, with anything, but certainly she's not going to ask a guest to help with the cooking. She's just pulling the potatoes off the fire, when she hears a voice behind her, and she spins around, a hand still holding the fork she was using, "It's going to be the Sheriff's office in a moment, unless you tell me why you just barged into my home."
"Alright. That I can do," he says with a smile. Jesse moves to find the plates, pulling two out, glasses, cups, settling them on the table. He looks over curiously as Marcus steps in, finishing setting the places and rubbing his palms with a towel as he steps away from the table, just listening to the conversation for now it seems.
Marcus spots the fork in her hand and flicks his jacket back to reveal his pistol, which his hand reaches down to grasps the handle of, "Now settle down, ma'am, I'm sorry to come barging in like this. I've just been asking around as to where you were and someone said they spotted you with a preacher. Naturally, I came looking to see if you were safe." He peers over at the man.
Arden shifts, setting down the fork and sliding aside the apron with her free hand, just enough to expose the fact that she too, is armed, "The first thing you can do, is take off that gun and set it down on the table there." Her tone is crisp, cold, "Make no mistake, I will not be forgiving if you don't do as I ask. As you said, you are in my home." She waits, a beat, before she continues, "Once your weapon is down, you can tell me why exactly it is you've been looking for me."
Jesse sounds amused, "She was with the preacher, so you wanted to know that she was safe? C'mon now, son. Put the gunbelt down. You're in her home, and y'know that most home owners already coulda filled you with lead a few times over for just stepping in and trying to heel like you did," he points out, shaking his head with a smile.
Marcus grins at her and nods, "Understood." He slips his hand off of the handle of his shoddy old pistol and unclasps his pretty gunbelt. He sets it gently on the table that was indicated. He turns back to look at her, "I've been looking for you to ask you about an apprenticeship. Marcus Berry." He smiles and offers a hand. A glance over to Jesse and says, "Maybe you haven't heard…there's a sadistic, hateful preacher who's been tearing through this town on a crusade."
Arden nods, in answer to Marcus' comment, "He calls himself The Preacher, Sheriff Reynolds tells me, captured women and kills them…quite violently, I heard tell. He's been on the loose for quite some time. Nobody's been able to track him." Arden departs the kitchen, a hand keeping the real preacher still, "well, if this is The Preacher, the church made a pretty bad mistake, but I don't think so. This is Jesse Young, minister in the methodist church, he's just been assigned to Silver Creek." She comes up to the intruder, as it were, her height such that she needn't look up so much at him. But finally, she offers a hand, "And I'm the blacksmith."
Jesse watches the two, offering a smile, "I'm hardly a butcher, and not even trained as one," he offers politely, staying put as Arden steps forward, lacing his hands in front of him. "But I will say, that is a right pretty belt there son," he adds.
Marcus nods and smiles at her, shaking her hand, "You're well informed. Let's see how well. Are you familiar with the Franklin Gang?" He tilts his head at her as he asks the question. He hears Jesse's compliment and says, "Well thank you, sir. I did the embellishing myself."
"I've heard rumours about them. I don't put much stock in criminals." Arden moves back towards the kitchen, "Jesse, could you get another place out for Mr. Berry?" She seems, at least, to be paying no more mind to the man's gun, as she heads back into the kitchen, pulling the steaks out of the oven and the potatoes over to the arming side of the stove. "So why exactly were you looking for me, besides looking after my good health?"
Jesse nods, moving to the cabinets. Another plate, glass, cup and he sets it all with fork and knife, smiling as he glances over. "And just as a note, stepping into anyone's home is a terribly bad idea, you know. Good way to get yourself hurt." he tells the younger man.
Marcus nods in thanks to the woman, "Thank you, ma'am." He hears her little snipe at criminals, "Well, you know, not all of us criminals are completely useless barbarians in society. I, for instance, like to see myself as quite a dignified man, besides the occasional barging into a place." He walks over to the place that has been prepared for him and sits down, "I was looking to see if you could send me on my way to becoming a blacksmith." He looks over at the preacher, "I'm sure that I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself…even if my gun isn't."
Arden comes to the table, serving Jesse first, as the eldest, and then Marcus next, as the second guest, and finally herself. A steak each, and two to spare, in case they're still hungry, and the pan fried potatoes and parsnips. She brings out a bottle of onion preserves/relish just in case. "Don't have much in the way of alcohol, but there's water, and Sheriff Reynolds tells me that moonshine isn't too bad." Once she's settled into her seat, "Have you ever worked at a forge before? It's not an easy job to learn and harder to do well. It's long hours, and rough working conditions."
"And I can't say I've seen someone admit they were a criminal before," Jesse says as he gets settled in. He waits for Marcus to answer before he dips his head and begins to silently pray himself - not out loud, perhaps in defenernce to his early conversation with Arden.
Marcus smiles as he's served, and bows his head to pray also. After about thirty seconds he raises his head and finally answers to Arden, "I'm afraid not, and I'm sure that it's quite a rough job, but I've fought off a regiment of the U.S. Cavalry with nothing to support me but an ill-equipped squad of Indians and the few members of the Franklin Gang that weren't killed in the ambush." He cuts a few pieces of steak off and eats one. A glance over at Jesse, "Well, a lot of men aren't proud of what they do outside of the law," he says with a stern conviciton before he puts another piece of steak into his mouth."
Arden doesn't lower her head, and her lips don't move, but she does wait patiently, taking no offense at all the praying going on at her table, so perhaps she's doing something similar in her own way. Once the meal starts, she tucks in, showing quite a healthy appetite. No dainty shrinking violet. "In this world, there are a lot of people who have done things that they are not proud of." But she returns to the main topic, "Why blacksmithing? You seem to have a knack for leatherworking, of that gunbelt is anything to go by."
Jesse glances over at Marcus after he's finished praying, slicing into his steak. "You don't say," he says incrediously. "So you know that a cavalry regiment is ten companies, a company of cavalry being one hundred men. So you'e telling me you held off one thousand cavalry men - soldiers, with a squad - roughly twelve - of Indians and the few members of your gang? I'm sorry son, but that's quite the tall tale. You might want to try to tweak that story just a touch before you tell it again." he adds.
Marcus continues eating at a steady pace, making sure not to waste any, "Well, leatherworking is fine, but I've always really wanted to learn to smith. I'm obviously built for it by the good Lord." A chuckle and a glance over at the preacher and he says, "Why's that? You think I should embellish next time? I didn't say we killed every single one of them, I just said we held them off." He grins slyly at Jesse.
"Well, it's as much about knowing how to wield the hammer than the force you put behind it. Hot metal is quite surprisingly soft and easy to mold." And while she looks between the two men, she makes no comment on the war or the size of army regiments. She knows nothing of those things. Instead, she goes to pour herself some water, but, as all things do, especially in winter, peace rarely lasts, and the bell in the shops starts clanging, announcing a customer waiting. Arden pushes back her chair and her plate, "I'm sorry, I have to see to that, finish eating, if you like, or you can come with me, see what I do first hand." She moves quickly, heading towards the front door.
Jesse smiles, "Son, I had the grand honor and pride in commanding a regiment of cavalry. And I mean you no offense in honor or pride when I tell you that there is no way, no way indeed, that a handful of Indians and a young man and a few bandits held off one thousand trained soldiers on horse back. If so, that tale would've tripped every paper and telegraph. Not to mention the smart to the pride of the Army would've seen you hunted down by every federal marshal and officer between here and the coast. It's a tale, and if there is one thing the Lord doesn't like son, it's men who need to embellish." He eats, smiling as he glances over at Arden, rising to his feet, "Of course," he adds before he sits again, eating.
Marcus listens to Jesse and smiles while shaking his head, "You ever seen an Indian counter-ambush party? They may be savages, but they understand how to use an opponents supposed advantage. And even though I may not be a soldier, a good deal of the Franklin Gang are. We were more seasoned than the entirety of the cavalry that they sent our way. When we confirmed that we were in an ambush, the larger group of Indians pushed the cavalry over into the gully. I suppose I didn't give you all of the facts; about five hundred Indians were waiting to swoop in on the ambush…I just wish they would've been there a little sooner."
"Well, five hundred Indians is a lot different than a squad, son. And I fought Indians, in the hills, on the plains. For several years. They can be a crafty and very intelligent foe, that much is very true," he agrees as he takes another bite or two from his steak, a sip from his tea and some more bites from his food. "What brings you to this area of the country?" he asks politely.
Marcus sips at his glass of water and shrugs at the question, "Met a man named William Franklin out in my hometown of Dodge. He took me in from my life of killing and destroying and he showed me how to use my anger. Plus, I'm engaged." He chuckles.
Jesse nods, "Engaged." he says, sitting at the table with Marcus - and finishing a plate of steak and potatoes it seems, and cool tea. "So what is it you do now, if you aren't the full time criminal you were before?" he asks, dabbing his mouth as he rises from his table seat.
Marcus finishes with his plate and wipes his mouth and hands down before setting the napkin down on the plate, "Oh, I'm still in the full time criminal business. Just looking into other things, such was the meaning of my visit." He stands up and stretches, "Care to see what Miss Ohls is doing?"
Jesse nods, "Certainly," he says as he pushes his chair in and shrugs on his coat, gesturing, "Please, after you," he says as he gestures.
