Players:
NPCs:
* Bull Durham
Summary: Marshall questions Chiane about Marlowe
Date: February 2, 1884
Marshall's Questions
Boarding House
The door came open with a crash, propelled by a heavy kick from the booted foot of Marshall Bull Durham. He followed, filling the opening with his bulk, small, piggish eyes roving about to fall upon Chiane.
In a voice that rolled like distant thunder, he asks, "I heard Marlowe jumped the broomstick with a niggah. You her?"
A young hispanic girl is sitting on the sofa with the ever-growing Phillip on her lap. Lucia glances up to the lawman, blinking to him with oversized brown eyes. "Hola Senor." She says simply to the man. Hefting the chunky baby up onto her still non-existant hip, the girl moves towards the kitchen. "Senora!" She calls out. Just as the man entered the house, Chiane seems to be exiting the kitchen. A brow arches. "Jumped the broomstick?" She was a bit confused by the metaphor.
The marshall glowers and sneers at Lucia, 'Damned greaser," before slowly turning to face Chiane, eyeing her, not explaining. "You're the one whats been bedding Marlowe, or both of you?" he considers Chiane's face a moment more, then draws out a much folded and faded paper from his pocket, looking from it to her and back.
A dark sneer crossed his face as he replaced the paper in his pocket.
Chiane reaches to take the baby from Lucia. "Go home Lucia." She gives the girl her pay, shooing her off. No reason for the child to be under this kind of scrutiny. Side-stepping around the man, Lucia darts off and out the door.
Chiane steps closer to the poster, lifting it up and eyeing it for a moment. "I used to bed him. Once upon a time. I used to be his wife. Before he found other interests." She hands the poster back to him. "That's an old poster of me, yes. But I have received a pardon for that. I can retrieve the pardon if ya so wish?" She jerks a thumb towards the staircase.
"Well la-de-da. A pardon now is it?" his face looks malevolent, "You think maybe I'm as stupid as a niggah to let you go traipsing off to get a gun? Sit ddown, woman, and speak when you're spoke to." he plants both hands on his hips glaring, "That his whelp?"
Chiane was raised a slave on a plantation. She lived on the streets as an orphan. She was used to this sort of scrutiny. It was as water off a duck's back. Living a lifetime of hatred and prejudice, one learns to adapt to it. Chiane moves to her seat, sinking down into it, resting Phillip into her lap. "Indeed. This is our son. Though he turned his back on us a lil while back."
Bull just grunts, remaining on his feet, legs spread, "Nits make lice, ought to hang him alongside Marlowe when I catch him." One ham-like hand reaches up to scratch at the scruffy jaw, "You're telling me he ain't here." it was a statement, not a question, "And I suppose next you're gonna tell me you don't know nothing about him?"
He bends over, fists back on his hips, "The whore that he worked for don't know nothing, and the damned Jew I got locked up don't know nothing, and now you what was round-heeling for him is going to tell me you don't know nothing..He ain't no fucking ghost."
Chiane locks her gaze on the man's eyes. "Christopher was an injun. Injun men don't talk much of their plans to anyone, especially their women. He didn't tell me much of anythin' while we were married. Why would he tell me anythin' now that we are divorced? Trust me.. I tried. I tried like hell to understand the man. I tried like hell to figure out what was goin' on in his head. I failed that miserably. Christopher is his own man. He is a loner. He doesn't include people in his schemes."
"What DO you know?" he barks, spittle flying from his lips as he bends closer, "You said he found other interests..Who, what, where?" A stiff sausage like finger stabs out, poking hard into Chiane's chest, regardless of the baby snuggled there.
"Who'd he run with? Where did he stay? I want every damned scrap of information you have, and I want it now."
The steady tap of a pair of silver spurs signals the entry of an entirely different sort of man. With his black stetson pulled low and a thin cigar producing a line of smoke from his lips, Will simply leans against the door frame. "Is there…a problem, here?"
Chiane slowly turns her gaze down to the stubby finger pointing into her chest. Her free hand simply reaches up, wiping the spittle from her features. For a moment, Chiane is silent and just rises from her seat. Moving off to the side, she bends over, resting Phillip into the pallet of blankets she had prepared for him. "I don't know nothing." She says to the lawman. Not that she would tell him if she /did/. "You talk to that snake Meriah? He spent more time with the bitch than he did me." Slowly, she turns around and looks back to the Marshall. "We have been separated fer over a month now. I aint seen him since the divorce decree was sent mah way. A man can do a lot of things in a month." Then Will is noticed. Chiane's eyes turn to regard him. "Not sure." She answered him honestly.
Bull straightens, slowly, his flat, piggish looking eyes moving to the man in the doorway, regarding him for a long time. "Franklin" he says, finally."Murder, robbery, assault, insurrection." the thick lip curls in a sneer,"Your time'll come Mister Franklin, once I got a rope around a damned indian's neck."
Then, he turns his back on the man to face Chiane, "I spoke with the whore, and I'll be speaking to her again. And I'll be speaking to you again too." Like a small mountain beginning to move, he starts for the door then.
"And treason. Everyone always seems to forget that damned treason charge." William answers in that cold, distracted voice. With a thin smile, the outlaw comes to full height and crosses the room, coming to stand next to Chiane. "If it's Chris you're looking to string up…Good luck. Bastard's as tough as I am, friend." Those dark blue eyes search the mountain of a man. "And I'd say about three times as tough as you."
The Marshall turns around at the door to fix Will with a baleful look, "You don't got no paper on you in this State, Franklin..yet. But I'll hang that murdering thieving bastard. And anyone that takes up with him. Maybe I'll just start with that stinking Jew I got locked up." He puts one hand on the door, and tugs. The hinges pop and squeal, then with a sound of ripping wood, the door is pulled free to drop to the floor. 'You bring that pardon around to the office," he advises Chiane, "We'll see if maybe it ain't forged."
Chiane had thankfully kept her cool in all this. With his back to her, the corner of her mouth curls up into a rather evil sneer. But she was careful that he did not see that. The look was fleeting and was gone as soon as it had shown itself. Her gaze turns to the fallen door and rolls her eyes. She didnt answer his comments about the pardon.
William stiffles a laugh, bringing his gloved hand up and actually turning his back to the Marshall to keep him from seeing. "I'll see you some other time, Marshall. Granted, I'll be watching. And you know exactly what that means." He turns back around, smiling lightly and watching the massive man maneuver through the small opening.
