Evan Gets Whomped
January 23, 1874
 

The setting: Gunsmith Shop This is the gunsmith's shop. Your footsteps are muted by the red carpet on the floor. A coat rack is behind you, just inside the door. Around you are three glass-topped display counters - shorter ones on the left and right of the open center area, and a long one between you and the back wall. In the left back corner of the room sits a desk with a lamp, next to a pot-bellied stove. In the right back corner is a workbench, with a bookshelf over it. Various kinds of merchandise are visible through the glass countertops and on the walls of the room. There is a framed dollar bill hanging as a good-luck charm over the door to the back room. Some of the shop's lamps are lit, adding to the reflected light of morning. The shop's windows are closed to keep in the heat from the stove. '+view' It is Tuesday morning. (10:32am) January 23, 1874 The cast: Evan Randolph is a lean man of average height, in his early thirties. He has light brown hair, a moustache, and sometimes-sad blue eyes. He wears a double-breasted navy blue vest with matching pants and a white shirt. A watch chain reaches from a vest pocket to a buttonhole. A Colt .44 revolver sits on his right hip. Though only in his mid-twenties, Joshua McCormick has a weathered, rough look that makes him appear much older. His dark brown hair comes to just above his collar, and he invariably seems to sport a five o'clock shadow. Bright blue eyes peer out from beneath unkempt bangs, though Josh's expression seems to be set in a perpetual scowl. Josh's clothes have seen better days. His pants are a medium brown in color, the knees well-worn and the cuffs tucked into calf-high leather boots. His shirt appears to have been white at some point, though now it's more of a light beige. Thrown loosely over the shirt is a dark vest, and when outdoors Josh wears a warm, heavy gray overcoat and gloves. Hanging at Josh's hip is a plain, functional holster. Nothing fancy, but more than enough to hold his equally functional Colt revolver. Without further ado, the action: The door to the shop is pushed open, letting in the cold from outside, and Josh quickly steps inside. He shuts the door roughly behind him, as if in defiance of the weather, and then shakes the snow off the brim of his hat. Cradled in his arms is a shotgun.. the one appropriated from behind Wilona's bar, in fact, if one were present for that little exchange. Josh slaps his hat against his thigh once more for good measure and returns it to its rightful place atop his head. He gives the gunshop, and proprietor, a once-over. Evan wasn't present for the exchange. Never seen that shotgun before in his life. He looks up from the workbench, with a quick nod. "Hello. What can I do for you today?" Not recognizing Josh, as a townsperson or as an outlaw. Josh's eyebrows go up, an expression of appreciation at the guns. Maybe this town isn't as bad as he'd originally thought. He gives Evan a curt nod, what passes for a greeting, and moves up to the counter. Setting the shotgun down on top of it, a bit rougher than would probably be good for the wood (glass?) he asks, "Got any rounds for this'n?" One hand taps the shotgun fondly. The other rests on the counter. Yes, glass. Evan looks down at the glass, and the shotgun, as he comes up to the counter. "Sure do. How many would you like?" That's Evan, kind and courteous, doing business. Just like Josh is anybody. Josh seems to consider briefly, chewing his lip thoughtfully, "Two boxes would be good." He looks a bit surprised, maybe, at Evan's polite service. Or maybe the expression on his face means something completely different. Evan nods. "Two boxes, right away..." He steps around to the left-hand counter, and after a moment he returns with the two boxes. "Here you go... Anything else today?" There are plenty of other things to buy for a shotgun... As Evan fetches the boxes of ammo, Josh takes the opportunity to look around the store again. His eyes light on the centerpiece, and it draws his attention. Picking up the shotgun again, but idly.. more like he just doesn't want to leave it behind as opposed to any sort of threatening gesture, Josh sidles over to get a closer look. He whistles appreciatively as he looks over the pistol in the display. [The object of Josh's affections] The middle of the center counter is dedicated to displays of the gunsmith's art. A very nice, well-polished nickeled Colt Army .44 is here, engraved with a decorative pattern resembling braid and with the roll-stamped cylinder markings picked out in extra relief. The walnut grip has been replaced with ebony, inlaid with a looped band of gold braid. A disassembled pistol is also here for illustration, as well as a fancy engraved action for a lever-action rifle. Josh squints a bit at the engraving on the pistol, leaning in close to it. Then he straightens and looks over to Evan. "Now that there is a nice piece of work.." Even outlaws acknowledge craftsmanship.. sometimes.. "How much?" Evan grins at the pistol. It is an attention-getter... "For the shells?" He names a price, whatever's right. Josh nods slightly at Evan's price, but then glances back at the pistol, "No.. for that.. How much for that?" Evan's brows go up. "Oh. That should run.... oh, a hundred dollars." The plain 1860 Army goes for fifteen. With the nickeling and engraving and inlay and so on and so forth, well, it adds up. Josh frowns a bit, "A hundred?" Josh lets out air through his teeth sharply, a sound if disbelief, "It's nice but it ain't worth no hundred dollars." Evan smiles and shrugs. "Well, a lot of work has gone into that one. As you might guess, I've had it for a while at that price." Not many people want to cough up a hundred bucks... Josh frowns slightly, gazing still at the gun. It appears he's quite taken with it. "I'll give ya thirty for it." Josh can be reasonable, on occasion, and ask before taking. Evan mmmmmms, then shakes his head, as if considering the offer. "No, I can't go that low for it." Not that piece. Josh purses his lips slightly, seeming to consider Evan's refusal. "Thirty," he repeats, evenly. "You sure you won't reconsider?" he drawls, and shifts his shotgun into a more comfortable position across his arms. Or maybe it's just to remind Evan of it's presence. Evan shakes his head, showing regret. "No, I'm afraid I can't." Josh tilts his head in a sideways nod, "Well allrighty then.. your choice I suppose. But I wish you'd reconsider." Something in his tone suggests a coldness, not the normal polite protest from people hoping that Evan might really drop his price. Evan's eyes narrow momentarily. Hmm. "I'm afraid I can't go that low, sir." A little extra formality, in response to Josh's coldness. Josh tsks and sighs, "Aww, well then. Can't say I didn't give you the chance, then." He gives Evan a bit of a glare, and then without any fancy preamble, he lifts the shotgun up and uses the butt of the weapon as a club, intending to smash the glass of the display over the centerpiece. Evan's eyes widen drastically, and he reaches out for the shotgun with his left hand, while his right drops to his pistol. "Hey!" What the _hell_ do you think you're doing? The momentum of the swing brushes right past Evan's attempt to stay the weapon, and it smashes the glass on the top of the display case. He notices Evan's other hand going for the pistol and spins the shotgun quickly, bringing it to bear on the gunsmith. "Now, I wouldn't be drawing that gun, there, mister.. lest you want your kids inheriting this nice ol' store a bit early." Evan's kids are dead, actually. Didn't even live a whole day, either of them. His brow lowers, furious over glaring eyes, and he slowly lowers his left hand. To somewhere in plain sight. "As if you'd bother to leave them anything..." Is that contempt in Evan's voice? Josh doesn't know about Evan's kids, naturally, having been in town all of a week. He smirks at Evan, "Well, now I can oblige you at that, if you like.." all too eager to please, is Josh. With his left hand, he reaches down.. very carefully.. through the shards of glass, towards the Colt revolver. Evan seizes the moment, reaching out with that out-in-plain-sight left hand, to push the shotgun's barrel(s) aside. Meanwhile, he steps to his left, behind the hand, and draws his pistol. "Oblige _this_." C-cl-click. Josh grimaces and curses as the push of the shotgun causes him to lose his balance and nick a finger on one of the pieces of glass. He doesn't waste much time thinking on the scratch, though, as he grips the barrel of the gun with his other hand and tugs while pushing with the other hand. The torque on the weapon sends the butt of the gun swinging quickly towards Evan's face. Evan gets well and truly smacked with the gun butt, snapping his head around. His gun doesn't go off, but he doesn't drop it, either. He staggers a bit, just a step or two, groaning. "Son of a---" Josh makes an awkward diving-scramble over the counter, no doubt causing some more damage to the display case on his way. "Told ya not to try nothing, fool," he grunts, reaching for Evan's arm (the one holding the gun, naturally) with one hand while keeping a grip on his shotgun with the other. Evan pulls his gun hand away and leaps forward himself, leading with a forearm toward Josh's throat, ready to drive both of them back over the counter. His left temple is split and bleeding from the shotgun butt. "Not _me_ you don't!" Grrrrr-leap! Josh grunts as Evan's leap drives him back into the display counter, Evan's arm pressing against his throat, pushing his head back. Josh tries to bring the shotgun around to smack into Evan's ribs from the side, but soon has other things on his mind as the counter gives way. The combined weight of Evan and Josh is too much for it and it topples with a loud crashing of broken glass. Evan nnghs from the strike to his ribs. And again as he crashes to the floor. "Not me, you bastard. Not _me_ you don't!" He works on keeping Josh pinned with his weight on the one arm as he brings the other up, with the gun. Josh's expression is a mixture or anger and blank confusion, "Not you *what* y' raving idiot?" he asks, wheezing from Evan's weight and the fall over the counter knocking the wind out of him. He manages to free his one hand and tries to grab Evan's gun-hand, to keep the weapon pointed anywhere else but at him. Evan isn't a raving idiot. He's just a frustrated, angry man who's not going to just give in to outlaws. Downright _furious_ that someone would come into _his_ shop and steal from _him_... Okay, so maybe he _is_ raving. A quick glance at his gun-hand, as Josh grabs the wrist, then he _leans_ on the other arm, pressing.... Josh howls loudly, and with a few choice explicatives added for good measure as Evan's weight presses painfully on his arm. He sees he's not getting anywhere, and is likely to have a broken arm soon if he's not careful, so Josh changes tactics. Releasing Evan's gun hand abruptly, he uses his free hand for a hard right cross aimed at Evan's face. Evan's head snaps around from the punch. "Ungh!" The gun-hand, now freed, brings the muzzle of Evan's well-kept Colt .44 to the side of Josh's head. Then the gun makes the loudest sound in the world. *snap* When it should have gone bang. Somewhere on the floor is the cause of the problem -- the percussion cap that has fallen off the back of the chamber. A quick startled look at the gun, and Evan cocks it again. Josh jumps a bit as the gun goes off... well.. not exactly.. but he was expecting his life to be ended with that loud snap, and is now REALLY ticked off. With Evan off-balance a bit from the punch, Josh wriggles his other hand free. He swings this one, too, at Evan, intending a solid uppercut to his jaw, while Josh's other hand swings towards the Colt, intending to knock it off-target. Evan rises a bit, pushed by the uppercut. "Ngack!" His gun hand flies wide, and he falls over in that direction, still conscious, still furious, still frustrated, and still fighting. Josh hops to his feet quickly, taking advantage of Evan being knocked back. His shotgun is right nearby, where he dropped it as the counter toppled, and he scoops it up as he stands. With an angry scowl, Josh advances on Evan, launching a kick at the gunsmith's ribs. Keep him off balance, Josh thinks, so he can't bring that gun to bear again. Evan oofs (crack) and rolls, trying to bring that gun to bear. Damn caps. No caps on the next one, he promises himself. He reaches out a hand, to ward off the next kick. Josh mumbles a curse about Evan's stubborness and grows tired of fooling around with the man. As Evan rolls, he draws back his shotgun, and swiftly brings it down like a club, aiming for the back of Evan's skull. Crack again! Evan convulses, all at once, and drops to the floor, limp. A slow breath drifts from his unconscious body. So much for stubbornness. Josh gives Evan another solid kick to the back of the ribs, just for good measure. Some more mumbling, as he reaches over and picks up Evan's revolver, then deposits it on the other side of the room. He dabs at his nicked finger with the cloth of one sleeve, frowning at it, then at Evan. Evan's body moves with the kick, like the proverbial sack of potatoes. Not even an oof or a groan. His limp fingers let go of the gun with no trouble. He just lies there, bleeding from a place or two. Moving back over to the smashed display case, Josh kicks at the glass a bit with the toe of his boot, clearing it away. He bends over and picks up the engraved revolver that caused all the fuss in the first place, tucking it into his belt. Then he grabs the two boxes of shotgun shells, taking a moment to load the silly thing first. Always helps so that next time he doesn't just have to use it as a club. Glancing around the store, and ignoring Evan's unmoving body, Josh picks up a few other items. He stuffs some boxes of ammo into his coat pockets, tucks another pistol into the other side of his belt.. and then picks up two rifles and slings them over his shoulder. Hmm.. anything he's forgetting? Josh mulls thoughtfully over the gunbelts for a moment, and then his eyes light on one he likes, which has two holsters on it. It's swiftly removed from the rack and slung over his other shoulder. Resting his shotgun across his arms again, Josh gives the area one final look around and then heads out the door, slamming it shut behind him.