Death of Cletus
January 25, 1874
 

Maddock Square The center of Maddock opens into a wide dusty square, all the main commerce buildings accessible from it. The Golden Star Hotel building looms over the northwest section of the square, casting the area into shadows in the late afternoon hours. Along the southwest side of the square, a large porch encompasses the entrance to the Grey Horse Saloon, where many flock to watch the bustling activity of the square. Sleepy winter evening collects around you in the midst of a swirl of new fallen snow. The roads branch off in four directions, continuing in a north-south and east-west direction from the square. [Cletus] Cletus Booker is a kinda short, slightly pudgy man with wild, childlike eyes. He's basically nondescript in appearance, worn and scruffy, well-traveled -- nondescript except for a puckered round scar on his forehead, near the left temple. He's prone to make noises of various kinds -- humming, whistling, giggling, gobbledygook. [Maggie] Maggie's a girl somewhere in her late teens, tall, slightly overthin, her manner often awkward and shy. Black hair is drawn back from a dark-eyed, pale face and gathered into a thick braid that occasionally swings over one shoulder. She wears a dress of heavy green fabric, woven with vines and leaves of a slightly darker green. The neat bodice and sleeves are closely fitted, and the skirt, made comfortably loose with a few pleats, falls a little stiffly to the tops of clean brown boots. She wears a wedding band on her left hand. Maggie turns a tight corner as she enters the square. She needs to go east. This involves proximity to the saloon. Hence, a wary building-hugging circuit of the Square. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Lassiter wanders out of the saloon and steps to the porch railing to study the street, cinching his fur robe tight against the cold. Cletus half-stumbles down the steps off the saloon porch. "Hehehey there, little lady.... Where you goin'?" On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Lassiter frowns as he watches Cletus. Could be trouble. Maggie stops. Maggie has a tendency to freeze, when she really ought to rush off at a dead run. "Um..." Scrabbling with the flap of her bookbag. "I'm...just...passing through." And she starts again, toward the eastern end of the square. Cletus steps over to follow her. "Wh-why don't you come on in here and have a drink with the boys? We could have some fun..." That's some kind of wild look in his eyes, and cheap whiskey on his breath. "Don't _go_..." He quickens his step, to get in front of her. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Lassiter sets his Bible down on the porch railing. Under his breath he mutters, "And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, and prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven. And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him." One hand dips into a pocket as he steps down off the porch. Maggie stops, tries to sidestep, in the snow. "Nno. I have to...be somewhere." A hand in that bag, now. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Lassiter strides off towards the northern street. Lassiter hurries over from the saloon porch. Lassiter has arrived. In the distance, the bells of the reformed church ring loudly to designate the hour. Lassiter calls "Hey, Cletus. Why don't you come back inside the saloon where its nice and warm and the ladies are friendly?" Maggie looks to Lassiter, and the hand that was emerging from the bag eases back inside. Yes. Go inside... Cletus reaches out with a vaguely chubby, vaguely dirty hand to grab for Maggie's shoulder. Not an attack, just to make sure she's not going to go away. "This little lady looks friendly enough to me, preacher. Think I've seen her around...." A leering smile at Maggie. "How 'bout the saloon? It's somewhere... yesyesyesyes it is..." Maggie tries to jerk that shoulder back, panic rising fast. "No. No, thank you." A high-pitched edge in her voice. Lassiter strides closer, quickly, purposefully. His hand emerges from that pocket, even in the dark a gleam of gold can be seen. "I really think you should go back into the saloon now, Cletus." Cletus reaches again, giggling. "Playing hard to get? Yeah, I like that...... Come here, honey, I'll be nice..." Moving forward a little... Maggie skitters back, slipping a bit on the snow. "No!" Sharply. No politeness left. "Leave me alone." Lassiter closes in on Cletus. "Hey Cletus, here. You're going to be needing this." He flips a $20 gold coin to the man. Money. Cletus looks at himself, when the coin smacks him. He looks down at the snow, where it fell. He reaches out to Maggie again, as he bends over for the coin. Gold? "Oh, she's _'spensive_...... Thanks, Preacher. Hey, I got money, honey..." The snow falls from the darkness about covering the ground in a soft blanket. Maggie shakes her head, taking advantages of his stooping to get a bit further away. "I have to be...going." Yep. Going. Leaving. Pay her no mind. Lassiter steps up to Cletus, his expression grim. "No, the money isn't for her." Cletus waves his hand toward Maggie. "Hey, don't go, dearie..." Ah, there's the coin. Double eagle, hey. Wait, not her? "You ain't my type, Preacher..." Maggie keeps edging back, eyeing Cletus, and particularly Cletus' weapons. Careful. Don't slip. Lassiter smiles without humour. "You have to pay the ferryman before he'll take you 'cross the river." Even as he speaks his hands dart forward to jerk Cletus' guns from their crossdraw holsters, firing almost as soon as they clear leather. Cletus's eyes go REAL wide at the *boom* in his gut. "Dohhh!" He twitches violently, and takes a quick stagger-step to one side, toward Maggie. His hand reaches her elbow, clutching her. "Gotcha...." And he got me. "Damn bastard preacher...." Maggie screams, shrill, at the shots. No words as he grabs her, just a hysterical panicked effort to get her arm out of his grasp. Still screaming. Lassiter fires another quickly aimed shot. "Don't worry. Most likely I'll be along directly, Cletus." Cletus drops to his knees, groaning. "Pa..... Pete....... Get 'im, Pete....." His hand slips from Maggie's elbow, and he looks at his fingers. "Heheheheheheh...." He slowly folds over, pressing the gold coin against his bloody gut. "Not done yet....." Then again, maybe he is. He falls into the snow, on his face. Maggie doesn't stop screaming. Can't stop screaming. Sheriff's wife or not, this isn't something she's seen very often. She steps back from Cletus, staring. Hysterical Female. With the practiced ease of an experienced gunfighter, Lassiter rolls the two pistols so they're reversed and shoves them into his belt. As he kneels next to Cletus he snaps to Maggie, "Go! Now!" Marron has arrived. Cletus lies in the snow, face down, freshly dead. More charming than usual. Lassiter kneels next to Cletus, reaching for the dead man. Maggie stood staring at Cletus, her scream finally dying away. Her gaze snaps to Lassiter as he speaks to her, and she starts to back away. [Marron] Hair the color of dark obsidian frames a narrow, olive-skinned face. He is short, perhaps five feet, but no more, and his slender body makes him look far younger than his seventeen years. His long-sleeved, western-style shirt, obviously several sizes too large for him, hangs far below his waist and over his hands. The trousers were clearly also made for a much taller man, and he has rolled up the cuffs to enable him to walk. A frayed length of dirty rope serves as a makeshift belt. Despite the weather, his feet are bare, and he looks half-frozen and utterly miserable. Marron stands in the doorway of the mayor's office, staring in shock at the grisly scene. Lassiter rolls Cletus over, tugging at his gun belt. "Sorry 'bout this but I need it more than you now." No time. There's an itchy spot between his shoulder blades where he expects to receive a bullet any second now. Maggie gets to the corner, in the direction of home, and stops, her hand finally coming out of that bookbag, with a ladylike gun in it. She's quiet, at least. Marron stares from Maggie to Lassiter and then looks around the square. He starts to walk forward, then thinks better of it and remains in the doorway, with one hand resting heavily against the solid wood of the door. Lassiter finally tugs the belt free. He drapes it over one shoulder rather than waste time putting it on. He does pause one more moment by the body though. Just long enough to dip his fingers in the blood oozing from the belly wound and smear a cross on the dead man's forehead. "And so it begins." But it began ten years ago, really. Oh yes it did. Maggie edges further into the shadows of the street to the west, the implications of this starting to filter through the horror. Oh, no.... Marron changes his mind again and leaves the shelter of the doorway. Favoring his right leg, he limps unsteadily across the square toward Lassiter. Lassiter rises, tugging one gun free as he turns to face the saloon. No one there. He fades down the street to the north. Disappearing into the shadows. Well, they needed bait. Now they've got it. Maggie starts at the sight of someone new...but he's only a boy. He's not one of them, surely? But she ducks back even further, still staring at the body. Marron watches the man go in disappointment and confusion. Stopping in the snow a few feet across the square, he turns and looks at the remaining person to see if she will fade away as well. Lassiter hurries off towards the northside of town. Lassiter has left. In the road by the gates, Lassiter moves over from the town square to the south. In the road by the gates, Lassiter walks off towards the road to the north. Maggie looks back at the boy as he turns, the gun rising slightly in her hand. Marron starts to hobble toward her, then sees the gun and freezes. "Please," he says softly, "Please don't." Maggie swallows. Talk. Don't scream. You don't have to scream, Maggie. "Who are you?" Marron hesitates, then says in heavily accented English, "My name is Marron. Who are you?" One of Them would have shoes, surely. And a gun. He can't be. But she backs away another step, anyway. "Maggie." Marron watches her go, a solemn, dejected look on his face as he realizes she is going to leave. Now that the excitement is over, the cold begins to seep in again and he rubs his hands against his arms for warmth. He glances back at the Mayor's Office uncertainly. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Cobb moves over from the saloon. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Cobb quickly steps out of the saloon, moving to one side of the door so he won't be silhouetted too badly against the light. One gun is already drawn as he looks around the square. What's going on? Maggie stares at the saloon, coming somewhat to her senses. Hissed, to Marron, "Run." And she takes her own advice. Maggie walks off towards the western part of town. Maggie has left. From the west side of town, Maggie hurries over from the middle of town. Marron is standing barefoot in the snow near the body of a dead man. He stares in surprise at Maggie's words and looks up at Cobb. Cletus lies there in the snow, face up. Cooling. The wind picks up, driving the falling snow into a harried dance around you. Marron gives one last, harried look around then starts to follow Maggie. He appears as if he is about to run, then puts his weight down on his right leg and collapses into the snow headfirst. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Josh strides over from the saloon. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Cobb's eyes flick to the bible on the porch railing and then the figure in the square. And what's that? A body? He moves down the porch stairs cautiously. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Cobb saunters off towards the northern street. Cobb walks over from the saloon porch. Cobb has arrived. From the west side of town, Oh, no. Oh, no...get up. Get _up_. Maggie watches, hand tightening around her gun, half-sheltered in the brush. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Josh sees Cobb with his gun drawn and quickly dumps the saloon girl he was flirting with and hurries out after him, holding his shotgun at the ready. "What's goin' on?" he calls after Cobb, shivering a little as he came out without his coat on. Cletus is a body, all right. Finally not making any kind of maddening noise whatsoever. Just lying there in the snow, with a bloody $20 gold piece there in his blown-apart gut. Quite completely inert. [Cobb] Cobb Booker is a man in his mid-50s but well preserved for his age, of average height but barrel chested, with short, curly, whitish-blonde hair, neatly trimmed beard and moustache, piercing blue eyes, and a ready smile. His clothing is well made, sturdy but not fancy. A white shirt, brown pants, a leather vest, a heavy buckskin jacket, a tan Montana-style hat, and a yellow slicker. A pair of Colt Peacemakers ride butt forward in a gunbelt worn high on the hips. Marron brings his hands under him as best he can and pushes to his knees. He is shivering from the cold and stares up uncertainly at the men who have just arrived. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Josh saunters off towards the northern street. Josh strides over from the saloon porch. Josh has arrived. [Josh] 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 dual holster rig, made of rather new-looking brown leather. The holster carries two Colt revolvers. One is plain and functional, the other a real eye-catcher, with fancy engraving on the barrel. Most often, Josh carries with him a shotgun as well. Cobb moves towards the body, keeping Marron covered as he does so. "No." Marron starts to crawl across the snow sideways, trying to get away from the strangers. If he keeps really low, maybe they won't see him...maybe... From the west side of town, Maggie edges a step or two closer, to see. To see if Marron gets away; she doesn't want to see Cletus. Cobb kneels by his son. "Cletus?" His eyes take in the cross drawn in blood on Cletus' forehead and the missing gunbelt. Not too hard to figure out, especially with the bible on the porch. "Damn you, Daniel." Josh follows after Cobb, using his shotgun to warn folks not to try anything foolish. His eyes light on Cletus' body. "Good lord," he drawls, in his southern accent, the cold nearly forgotten. Cletus doesn't respond. Imagine that. Marron continues to edge away slowly, glad to see their attention on something other than him. Cobb stands and turns on Marron, gun coming to point, snarling "What happened?!" Josh's shotgun slides over to point at Marron as he scurries away. He advances on the other fellow, "Who did this, boy?" he demands, harshly, "Was it you? Huh?" Marron freezes, with his wrists sunk in the snow and stares at the two with wide-eyed horror. Unable to form words, he shakes his head rapidly back and forth. From the west side of town, Maggie gulps. Somebody do something...another step closer. Look hard, and you might see her. The wind picks up, driving the falling snow into a harried dance around you. Cobb moves towards the boy menacingly. His gun drops slightly as he sees Marron is unarmed. "What happened? Answer me, dammit." Josh doesn't seem to notice Maggie, his attention being focused mainly on Marron. He hangs back, though, letting Cobb handle it. He just keeps guard on the proceedings, ready to start blasting people if necessary. Marron draws in a breath, visibly shaking now. He manages to find his voice, but the words come out in barely a whisper, with his thick accent making them almost incomprehensible. "...not know...firearms...scream..." Cobb steps closer to Marron, raising his arm to pistolwhip the boy, when someone snaps off a couple of shots from the road to the north. Cobb reacts almost immediately by diving for cover. From the west side of town, Maggie backs into the bushes again, watching Marron. Marron flinches at the gunshot noise and watches Cobb dive away in surprise. He glances around uncertainly, then sees Maggie. He looks for Josh, hoping the man is occuppied, so he can start crawling again. If he is aware of the danger from the incoming bullets, he gives no sign. Josh ducks down into a crouch, even as Cobb dives for cover. His shotgun is brought up to his shoulder, and he scans to see where the shots came from. Marron begins crawling away again, sideways heading roughly in Maggie's direction. His loose shirt sleeve gets tangled around his hand, but he keeps going without taking time to pull it off. Cobb gets down behind a watering trough. Like Josh he starts looking for the shooter though if what he suspects is right, he knows he has no hope unless the man shoots again. It'd take a miracle to spot a man dressed in black and gray at night in a blizzard. And considering professions, Cobb's not the one with the miracles on his side. From the west side of town, Maggie stuffs her gun in the bag and dares a few steps out of cover, toward Marron, intending to help him up when he's...a little closer. She'll go only so far toward the square. Come _on_. Faster. Josh takes note of Marron's crawling away, but he doesn't seem to pay him any mind. He's got more important things to worry about.. like where those damn shots came from. He moves awkwardly towards cover.. keeping down low, keeping his shotgun ready. Marron, unlike Cobb, is busy thanking every god he knows for the miracle that just enabled him to get away from the two gunmen. He keeps crawling as fast as he can through the snow toward Maggie. From the west side of town, Maggie whispers, "Come _on_..." Another step toward the Square. That's as far as she's going. It _is_. Then she takes just one more. In the distance, the bells of the reformed church ring loudly to designate the hour. Out of the darkness comes a voice. "I'll be back for you and the others, Cobb. Time some debts were paid. 'Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.'" Marron looks up at her gratefully and continues hurrying. Just a short distance now. Cobb fires in the direction of the voice for all the good it'll do. From the west side of town, Maggie reaches for Marron. C'mon c'mon _c'mon_. Josh looks around for the source of the voice, squinting against the darkness and the snow. He mumbles a curse under his breath, his teeth chattering from the cold. Still not paying attention to Maggie and Marron. Marron cringes at the new gunshot and freezes in place. When no more are forthcoming, he hurries on and finally reaches the spot where Maggie is waiting. Cobb works his way towards Josh, keeping his head down. Damn preacher is wearing black and he's got to be wearing a damn yellow slicker. Stupid stupid stupid. "We've got to get back inside." Where the others are. From the west side of town, Maggie grabs for Marron. If she gets him, she'll drag him to his feet. Not nearly so gentle or careful as she'd be under other circumstances. Josh clenches his hands in frustration, frowning at the darkness. As Cobb speaks, he nods, slowly. Then glances towards the saloon. Somehow, at the moment, it seems very far away. Cletus lies there, snow falling on him, covering him up slowly. Marron allows himself to be grabbed, and, with her help, manages to push to his feet. "Thank you," he whispers. From the west side of town, Maggie nods, silently, and urges Marron westward. Cobb looks towards the body. "Cletus..." Can't do anything about the boy now. As much as Cobb hates to leave the body there, he'll have to wait. As he draws his other pistol he says to Josh, "Make a run for it and I'll try to keep his head down." Marron heads towards the western part of town. Marron has left. From the west side of town, Marron comes over from the middle of town. From the west side of town, Randall's not home. She's not going there alone. With a glance back to be sure they're not followed, Maggie urges toward the Randolph place. Walk faster. No matter how fast Marron's walking, she wants it faster. From the west side of town, Maggie moves off towards the Randolph home. From the west side of town, Marron heads towards the Randolph home. Josh nods to Cobb, not looking too pleased with the idea but there's not much choice. "All right," he agrees finally, after considering, "When I get to the other side.. I'll cover you.." Josh gets into a runner's crouch, ready to spring across the square when Cobb gives the word. Cobb rises into a crouch. "Go!" He begins firing both guns down the dark street, providing covering fire. Josh pushes off of the ground, his shotgun resting across his arms as he makes a run for it, doubled over as much as possible to make himself a smaller target. He sprints across the square, cursing he slippery footing of the snow. But he manages to keep his balance. Cobb doesn't wait for Josh to get into position but follows as best he can, maintaining his fire until his guns are empty. No shots ring out in reply to the movement in the square. Lassiter doesn't intend to make a target of himself tonight. Josh gets to the other side, sliding the last few feet along the snow. He draws his pistol and adds some covering fire for Cobb, just in case. Josh doesn't seem to care if he might hit some poor innocent bystander in all the blasting. Cobb cares only because its one less bullet that might hit the man who killed his son. He scrambles up the steps to the porch. Cobb strolls off towards the saloon porch. Cobb has left. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Cobb walks over from the northern road. Josh waits for another few moments after Cobb makes it up onto the steps, and then follows, quickly. Josh moves off towards the saloon porch. Josh has left. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Josh saunters over from the northern road. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Cobb waves for Josh to go inside as he ejects spent shells and inserts fresh ones into his guns, crouching behind one of the posts. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Josh makes a dash from the steps to the saloon doors, pushing them open roughly and practically diving inside. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Cobb follows Josh, bringing his guns up to provide more covering fire if necessary. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Josh strides off towards the saloon. On the porch of the Grey Horse Saloon, Cobb strides off towards the saloon.