Well the lawyer's been in town for several weeks as some might know, but when
he decides its time - there's no time to waste. Messages are sent of the utmost
urgency and it is now, just hours before the big cook off that the Quintan brood
finds themselves at the ranch. Pearce looks quite stoic when he arrives. This
business is not the sort of friendly visiting type.
Christopher has drinks poured for all, taking the seat behind the desk. He may
not own the ranch, and after today, may not sit here again, but he /is/ running
the ranch, for now. After everyone's settled, he sits quietly. Patiently. He's
waited this long for this day, a few minutes won't hurt anyone, and just might
change someone's life.
Ah, now Lindley's a happy man. After all he has a drink in his hand. He also
seems to think he's got one thing or another coming. He settles into a seat and
watches the lawyer carefully.
Madeline pads into the study, the hint of a smile about all that she can muster.
Yes, someone's life might be changed today, and the butterflies flying loops in
her stomach won't let her forget that. Still, appearances are everything at the
moment, so she settles into a chair, puts her hands in her lap, and waits on the
lawyer's leisure.
Pearce sets down his briefcase, ignoring the offered drink. He's likely going to
need it. But that comes after. Once it seems all have arrived, he takes a moment
to introduce himself. "My name is John Pearce. I have been on retainer for your
father for about twenty years now." He opens his case, then amends. "Well, was
on retainer. This is my last act on his behalf." Is there a touch of relief at
that knowledge?
[Christopher's Description]
Christopher is just over 6 foot, and close to 200 pounds. Light brown hair,
collar length, he wears it in a side part. He's more partial to forgetting the
natural curls, than letting them bother him, so his hair tends to be on the
short side (think Bill Pullman). His gaze causes most to recall less than his
eye color, but blue and hazel come to mind. His face is that of a man seeing
much time in the field, be that war, ranch, or just jayhawking. Those that know
Chris will admit to the former, but not the latter. Most likely he's wearing a
shirt of wool plaid, and worn, but less than tattered, jeans. His boots, though,
are always clean. And damned fine they are, too. Alligator, perhaps. Something
folks from these parts generally haven't seen before. His attire, of late is
that of a Starr Double action revolver tied low on his right hip, with a left
hip side draw Army Single Action as his backup. He's one to talk his way out of
problems, but can fight his way out, should it need be.
[Madeline's Description]
Standing at 5'6", she still draws the eye, being above the height of many other
town ladies, and eyes of deep sapphire blue are still the first indicators of
her mood. Hair of amber-gold is turned under into a thick and soft curl of hair,
then pinned to the rest, keeping all but a few stray wisps from falling below
her collar. Her blouse is a blue cotton affair, with a high neck, and long
sleeves that button tightly about her wrists, a tiny cameo necklace draped
around a long neck. Her skirt is a dark, midnight blue, made of heavy fabric,
and lain over layers of petticoats.
[Lindley's Description]
Diminutive of stature, but not of spirit, Lindley Quintan stands just 5'4"...
about which he seems to bear an innate grudge. His normally unruly brown hair is
parted down the middle and combed to each side, and his clean-shaven face is
evidence of a recent trip to the barber. Those who might recognize the man might
note that his usually generous paunch is all but gone, leading one to believe
that either his lifestyle as an Epicurean has been abandoned or the man is most
recently poor. Lindley wears a neatly tailored, if overly baggy, pinstriped grey
suit and a mostly-white shirt beneath. Adapting his attire to the rugged terrain
of his home town, (or is that reverting to his old habits?) muddy ranch boots
protrude from the (also muddy) cuffs of his trousers. A beaver-skin stovepipe
hat is collapsed and tucked under his arm... it would complete a rather comical
picture had he the audacity (guts) to wear it.
Christopher merely watches the lawyer do his job. No fidgeting, coughing,
scratching. "I recently made your daughter's acquaintance, Mr. Pearce. Pleasant
young lady." He gives a small smile to the man, in return.
There's no relief from Madeline, not yet at any rate. Don't people sometimes
save up for their last duty, for a last hurrah? Still, Madeline forces her lips
to curve in a more noticeable smile, and mentions, "It's good to finally make
your acquaintance, Mr. Pearce."
It's ok Christopher, Lindley's doing all the scratching he needs to for the
entire family. Right across his belly. One might wonder just what sort of lice
the man contracted during his stay in the jail. He watches his siblings silently
waiting for the more important part. The money.
Pearce glances at Christopher, "Larissa?" There is a soft hmmm as he seems to
agree with Christopher. "I'm quite lucky to have her in my life." Not one to
linger now that he has gathered the family together, he withdraws a sealed
envelope from his case and looks to each Quintan solemnly before beginning. "I
have a letter here which I was asked to read upon his death."
Christopher takes a sip of his drink, a slight nod to the man. Comfortable, he
merely waits.
Breathe, Madeline. Breathe normally. Everything will be fine, just smile.
Madeline nods, too, and laces her fingers together in her lap.
Lindley rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. "Well now hell, ain't that just like
pop. Got to get the damn last word in." He tosses back his drink.
Pearce offers Lindley a pointed gaze then looks at the other siblings. Can
theses three truly be related? He breaks open the seal to the letter and pulls
it out. Having not read it yet himself he does so now, quietly, his stoic
expression breaking into one of relative surprise and then a redness creeps to
his face. Having read it through once he looks to each and says, "I'm to read
this word for word before reading the rest of his will." Man surely hopes that
they realize he's just the messenger.
Christopher cocks a brow at the man's expression, but sits, merely changing his
posture to cross his legs under the desk.
Madeline has wondered that very thing, many times. She's had the resemblances
pointed out to her enough to know that she really *is* related, but honestly,
there are days when she wonders. She watches Pearce skim over the letter, and
her eyebrows knit as his face turns red. "Well then," she says after quietly
clearing her throat. "Let's hear what he has to say, shall we?"
Lindley's glass is empty. Real shame. He taps at the glass offering a light
steady noise that grows annoying quickly. He'll silence it the first time
someone glares at him.
And so the man begins to read. One might even be able to hear the gruff voice of
Karl from beyond the grave.
"If Mr. Pearce is reading this letter to you then I'm dead. Damnit, that's
inconvenient. I reckon Lindley's there too. Lindley - you got a hell of a lot of
balls for showing up if you did. Now sit up straight, shut up and listen well."
Could the lawyer take some pleasure in reading that part? Damn straight.
Christopher shakes his head, softly, and for him, makes a very uncharacteristic
move. He stands, finishing his bourbon in one large gulp. He moves to the newly
reappointed bar, and pulls the leaded crystal decanter from it's home. He
silently returns to his seat, pouring himself another stiff drink, and sets the
container in the middle of the desk, well within reach of everyone. /So this is
how it's gonna be?/ Christopher thinks to to himself. Settling back in, he takes
a deep breath, and once again gives his full attention to his father's
mouthpiece. The faintest curl of a grin settles on his features.
Madeline slants a sidelong glance at Lindley and does her very best not to let
that smile she's put on widen into a grin. For all that Karl had his flaws,
occasionally, he had a real way with words, too. For the first time, she unlaces
her fingers and picks up her untouched drink to take a sip. Read on, Mr. Pearce.
Lindley stops the tapping and looks from Madeline to Christopher. As the bottle
appears on the desk he leaps for it, quickly refilling his glass to the brim.
The man continues, "Madeline. Dear Madeline. I know you'll be there. Looking so
much like your mother. So beautiful. You've managed to outlive a lot of the men
in your family. Funny that. How's that boy of yours?" The words are quietly read
by the lawyer, but the sarcasm of the way the words are written is hard not to
convey. "And then there's Christopher. That is if he bothered to return to
Maddock. Not sure where I went wrong with you, son. Not like Lindley, damn sot
is just plain stupid. But you - you should have been here more, at my side where
a son should be instead of off god knows where."
So each of the children gets their moment of fame, so to speak. Of course
Madeline's here. That part shouldn't be surprising to anyone. And for just a
moment, she looks like she might actually regret the fact that Karl's not. A
very brief moment before the rest of the words are read. Then, her eyebrows
lift. Funny that. Just what is the implication there, Karl? What was it supposed
to be? This time, she doesn't bother to glance at Lindley. He's been made fun of
enough for one will reading.
Lindley is taking a sip of his drink when the lawyer refers to him as a sot. He
casts a glare at the man. "Now you're just making up words!" He even moves to
stand, "I wanna read that afta your done!"
Christopher listens to his father's words, impassively, but gives a scolding
look to Lindley once he opens his mouth. He nods once to the lawyer, waiting for
the man to continue.
But wait, there's more. "Now if I had it my way, I'd just give the whole thing
lock stock and barrel to someone who was here for me when none of you kids were.
Someone like Consuela. But I can't do that - can I Madeline?" Pearce glances at
the woman. "So, as much as I'd like to keep you all waiting even longer - I'll
get right down to the point of it all." And then he pauses glancing up and no
longer reading. "I have an officially scribed will that matches what Karl's
about to say here. He was rather adamant about having me inform you all in his
own words."
Lindley smiles to himself. Consuela. She must be about twenty one now. This
thought has him turning to see if she's lingering outside. No such luck.
Again with the barbs at Madeline. How pleasant. She shifts her weight in her
seat again, has another sip of her drink, and says, "Well then. Read away, Mr.
Pearce." Please.
Christopher watches Lindley look about, and returns his gaze to the heretofore
stranger reading /their/ father's last words. He gives a soft nod of support to
his sister.
"Lindley. Lindley. You've always done what I told you without question. But you
had to go and be the biggest wuss this side of the Mississippi. Makes it damn
hard to be proud of you. My word stands. You get nothing. Maybe if your lucky
that wife of yours has brought you some good. That is, if you managed to keep
her. Knowing you, you likely gambled her away along with anything else I've ever
given you."
Madeline flinches and glances over at Lindley. That's not going to go over well.
Christopher actually frowns at this, but then Karl was a mean son of a bitch.
Hell, the way things have gone lately, Joshua will probably get everything. He
smiles at that thought. Not bad, actually. He could live with that. He adores
his nephew.
Lindley looks dumbstruck. The son of a bitch actually followed through. His face
turns bright red as he glares at first Christopher and then Madeline. He
finishes his glass and slams it down on the desk. "This is bullshit!"
Ignoring Lindley's outburst, the lawyer continues. "Christopher. I don't know
what the hell you've been doing while you're away. But you've never asked me for
money so I have to assume you have some tucked away. You are my oldest boy -
though a damn disappointment in the end really - taking up with that Mexican
whore for a while. Well the fact of the matter is we all have our secrets - and
since you've never bothered to tell me yours - I'm sure as hell not going to
tell you mine." The lawyer glances at the eldest Quintan and quickly continues.
"So - it is today, on the day of the birth of my heir, Joshua MacClaine that I
write this all to pen and absolve myself of the one sin that is likely to gain
me eternity in hell more than any other." There is a frown as the man continues,
his face rather red. "But damn if it wasn't worth it."
Madeline exhales audibly and claps both hands over her mouth. Relief. Surprise.
Maybe both, that's what prompts that abrupt reaction. Color flares to life in
her cheeks and she closes her eyes before anyone can see tears. He did it. He
really did it, the old man. He followed through.
Christopher smiles, as the prophecy comes true. "Excellent choice, Karl," is all
he offers, but does seem, is it? Relieved?
Lindley glares at Madeline, "You! You're Kid!? You aren't even of our mother!
You're just.. you're just one of my pa's gets!" This seems to irate Lindley even
more than had Christopher gotten it. He looks between both of them then at the
lawyer, "This is unacceptable."
Pearce watches Madeline's reaction carefully then clears is throat. Apparently
he is not quite through. Lindley is completely ignored except for a sharp
annoyed, "Sit down and shut up or get out, sir."
Christopher shoots a demanding glare to Lindley, and /slowly/ orders, "Shut up,
Lindley, and glue your ass to that chair."
Oh, but Madeline's got a temper, too, and she opens her eyes again to fix
Lindley with an icy blue glare. "Get I may be, but I'm Karl's get, no matter who
my, or your, mother was. Sit down, Lindley. Mr. Pearce isn't finished."
Oh look at the Quintan tempers come to life. It's rather a display of fireworks
isn't it, Madeline's blue glare, Christopher's cool white order and Lindley's
red faced anger. He ignores all of of them, hell he's got nothing to lose at
this point. He pours another glass, slowly. Very slowly then meanders back to
his seat and sits down to pout like an angry child.
Pearce withdraws another piece of paper, this item is the official will. He
reads through the sheafs of paper till he finds the amendment at the end. "Ah.
Ok, I must read this as well." He glances between the woman and man and says,
"I, Karl Quintan, from my death bed do set forth to paper the following
condition to my will. Should it be determined that Madeline Quintan had any
thing to do with my death, all lands and monies will be defaulted back to my
oldest son. Christopher Quintan."
Christopher slowly, ever slowly looks over to his sister. /Now/ that trip to
Great Falls takes on a new dimension. Could his sister be a murderer? Does that
give Christopher /more/ reason to pursue this investigation? He looks to all the
people seated here, in turn, looking for a reaction in each's eyes. He's
experience with this sort of thing, ya know. Finally locking eyes with his
sister, he asks of the lawyer, "Define /any', Mr. Pearce." Karl's a cold-hearted
bastard, and it appears Christopher just may be, too.
Madeline's eyebrows lift again. She studies the lawyer to be certain that she
heard him correctly, then looks to Christopher, locking gazes with him when
their eyes meet. A moment and her eyes narrow a little. She purses her lips and
says, cooly, "I suspect, Christopher, that any means 'any'. An any that you
won't find. I had nothing to do with his death. At all."
Lindley looks at his sister now, why would Karl think she might even consider
it? He downs his third drink. The plot thickens.
Pearce leaves the answer well spoken by Madeline and folds up his papers back
into the brief case. "Mrs Randolph, we will have some matters to discuss with
the bank likely." He doesn't get into details here, no sense airing more laundry
but at the expression on his face it isn't likely going to be as good as
Madeline expects. "I must be heading back to town now, I'm expecting a rather
important telegram."
Christopher nods, slowly to Madeline, "I sincerely hope that is the truth,
sister." He looks to the lawyer, and calmly, matter-of-factly states, "Because I
have substantiated, and absolute, proof that Karl Quintan, /was/ murdered." If
it was thick before, now it's as hard as a bug infested hard tack biscuit from
the war. He suspects he has the attention of the lawyer, as well.
Madeline looks far from surprised, either by Christopher's announcement, or by
the lawyer's. She looks back at him as well, and nods. A deep breath and an
exhalation and she nods, "Of course, Mr. Pearce. Shall I come with you, or shall
we make an appointment for another day?"
Lindley leaps up from his seat and places his glass back down on the desk. Is
that a look of pleasure as he looks towards Christopher, "You say that like it's
a surprise, Christopher. Pa had more enemies then a rattlesnake. I'm not
surprised at all." He looks at Madeline as if sizing her up as a potential
murderess then shrugs and turns back to Christopher, "Looks like I won't be
working for you after all." Not that he had accepted Christopher's offer to put
in a hard day's work for a hard day's pay. "I'm going to town." After all he
doesn't /know/ its dry yet.
Pearce looks between Christopher and Madeline and picks up his valise. "I would
expect you and Mr. Quintan have matters to discuss. Joshua isn't of age to be
running this ranch and.." He manages not to say, 'and you're a woman', but the
looks is there nonetheless. "I hope you both enjoy tonight's event. I will send
word to you Mrs Randolph when we can get together."
Christopher stands, removing himself from behind the desk. He gives a look to
Madeline, "I'll have my things out of the house tomorrow, Madeline." He looks to
the lawyer, "Before you leave town, Mr. Pearce, I'd like to speak privately with
you on some matters. When you have time, of course." He completely ignores
Lindley, this time around.
Pearce nods to both the Quintans, "I'll be in town for a while yet. Of course I
will be available to both of you." Lindley's left out. Poor sot.
Madeline nods to Mr. Pearce, then frowns faintly at Christopher. "Before you
pack your things in a huff, Christopher, we should talk. Really. But I should
get back to town. I'll be back this evening. Perhaps we can talk then." So
saying, she turns and goes.
Pearce nods to Christopher as well and follows the other Quintan out.