Allard fishes through his pockets, searching vainly for a cigar.
Lindley follows the party in, eyeing Allard suspiciously. He doesn't like that man, not one little bit, and especially not tonight. His mood is suddenly dampened.
Karl hands Allard one of his from his pocket, then motions to the small table on the verandah, he addresses Lindley, "Why don't you and Miss Lona settle yourselves and Richard and I will pour some brandy." He takes a step towards his study.
Lindley has several cigars in his shirt pocket. He pushes his hands into his coat, pulling it apart so the cigars are quite obvious. He does not, however, offer one to Allard.
The word "brandy" sinks in, and Allard gravitates immediately towards the study. Brandy. What a lovely idea.
Allard hurries off towards the study door.
Lindley hmms "Sure Pop." He sits.
Karl's gaze lingers over Wilona, Damn. She looks good. With an audible sigh, he steps into the study.
Karl's Study
The room is dark, with it's oak paneling that reaches from the floor to the ceiling. Upon the floor is a large oriental weaved rug that reaches to near each corner of the room. A large mahogany desk is the centerpiece of the decor in this room, behind which is a high backed brown leather chair. Two windows line the south wall, between which is a narrow table that holds an array of crystal decanters with varying hues of liquors. Before the desk, are two smaller chairs with short legs.
Karl closes the door quietly, then raises his voice, "Okay, what the hell is this about?"
Allard is pacing the length of the room; he seems totally unmoved by Karl's anger. He just mutters under his breath, "Ylsa's gone."
There is a pounding upon the front door to your home.
Karl crosses to the bar, and pours two drinks, steep ones. He holds one out to you, "Who? Oh the little Mexican?"
Karl frowns as he hears someone knock on the door.
Allard takes the drink, downs it in one gulp, and hands it back automatically for another. He doesn't look at the door. He nods once.
Karl hollers out the study door, "Get the front door, Lindley"
Karl drinks his own drink, slowly. He turns to sit at his desk, "Perhaps she went off to visit some family, who know." Who cares.
Karl is calm, too calm in fact. He takes a cigar from his box and bites the end off, "Missing you say? Someone trashed to post office." He tsks softly, "Shame, no one has any respect for government property." He lights his cigar, "Tell me, Richard, is she that good of a night's romp or do you have feelings for her?" Karl is such a bastard.
The commotion on the porch grows louder, Wilona Lindley and Tucker's muffled voices, Karl ignores it. For now.
Allard freezes mid-stride, cigar held in mid-air an inch or two from his face, and he turns on his heel to stare at Karl, face blank with utter astonishment. "I thought we had an understanding, Karl." He shakes his head slowly. He severely underestimated this one.
Karl gages your reaction carefully, his own expression schooled with his best poker face, "We do, We do." A puff at his cigar, the smoke streaming around his face, he thinks quickly, "I need a hung jury, Allard."
Allard makes an exasperated noise, his own mind having finally jarred into motion again, thinking quick as he can. "We agreed on that already, Karl." His voice lowers an octave, going level and calm. And just a hint of threatening?
Karl nods, yes they had. He stamps out his cigar and douses the rest of his drink. he can't ignore the commotion outside forever. he stands, "Let's call it insurance." He has no idea where Ylsa is, this works to his advantage though. Allard doesn't have to know.
However, Karl's just made a mortal enemy. Allard's eyes narrow. "I don't have her back safe at the verdict, Karl, I swear to God you'll regret ever having laid eyes on me. I may not have much here, but I can call in the avenging angels quicker than you can say the Lord's Prayer." He's under control again, fury driving him but no longer controlling him. He slams the glass down on the desk and turns to the door.
"Oh, Richard."
Allard stops to smile at Karl, a genuinely delighted smile. "I can see you don't believe me. Well, that will make this all the more sweet."
Karl stiffens at the sound of Wilona's voice, it sounds rather angry. He pauses by the door hand poised to open it, his voice low to Allard, "You'll get her back, all in one piece too. But you speak to William Tucker or Sheriff Greyson and I guarantee it will be pieces."
Allard doesn't answer. He just pulls the door open.
Meanwhile, What’s Been Happening Outside.....
Wilona shudders then moves over to the table, she looks about, "Maybe inviting me to dinner wasn't a good idea, perhaps I should go."
Lindley catches Karl's look at Wilona and shakes his head. Some things never change. Heh. It runs in the family, though, he's glad to note. "Aww, now Lona, you know how much my Pop likes havin you around." He blows a stream of smoke toward the ceiling.
Wilona starts as someone knocks at the door, she stares at it.
Lindley frowns. "Someone else? The whole damn town must be comin out here tonight." There's an edge to his voice. Not a good night for this. Really.
Lindley stands and heads for the door.
On the porch, Lindley hurries over from the inner courtyard.
Wilona remains seated.
On the porch, Tucker turns and spots Lindley. This is the man he wanted to see. He takes two steps across the porch and shouts, "Lindley!!!"
On the porch, Lindley opens the door. "Well, if it ain't the town's biggest nut come to the ice cream social." Heh.
Wilona stands, hearing Tucker's voice. She is blanching. Oh god, he can't see her here.
On the porch, Lindley blinks. "Yeah, its me. What the hell ya want -this- time Marshal? I haven't killed anyone's horse lately."
On the porch, Tucker grabs Lindley by the lapels. He is in no mood for this man. He growls, "Alright ya son of a bitch. Where is Ylsa Mendez." He knows very well, from his talks with Ylsa. If anyone had reason to take her, it would be him.
Lindley starts to take a step back into the sanctuary of his father's house and then is pulled up short, the cigar in his mouth falling down between himself and Tucker. He is quite caught by surprise. "What the hell are you talkin about?! Let go a me you bastard!"
Wilona runs out, hearing everything through the open door, "William! Put him down!"
Tucker's hands drop in surprise, as well as his chin as he sees Wilona. He takes a quick step back, his face flushed red with fury.
Wilona flushes, she had intended to hide when she heard Tucker's voice, but she doesn't want him to hang for killing Lindley either. She stammers out, "I was out riding, and I ran into Lindley." Oh god, how does she explain this.
Tucker points at Lindley, his eyes blazing, "Ylsa has turned up missing. If you don't think I don't know you hired those men in Great Falls to kill her last time, then your even a more stupid son of a bitch then even I would have thought." He can't even think of Wilona. Except in that small part of his heart, which quakes with pain.
Wilona gasps, first at the information Tucker reveals. Ylsa is missing. Then at the tone and intensity of his voice. She collects her thoughts then glares at Lindley, "You attacked Ylsa??!"
Lindley glares at Tucker but maintains his ground, even if the fool does have ahold of his coat. "I don't know what the hell yer talkin about -Marshal-. I just rode in from Missoula this afternoon. I been there since you let me outta jail fer killin that damn horse. "Now unless you got some sorta proof o' somthin, I suggest you let me go." He looks down for his cigar.
Wilona steps back further from Tucker and Lindley, her hand rubbing the side of her temple.
Tucker lets Lindley go. His eyes dart to Wilona, then back to Lindley. He growls, "I shoulda hung you when I had a chance you worthless piece of dung."
Wilona turns, looking at the front door with determination now. Damn him, Karl Quintan. She lift the hem of her gown and pulls a tiny one shot gun from the straps around her calf stalking off towards the inner courtyard.
On the porch, Lindley adjusts his coat and turns so he can see Wilona too. "Now look what ya did, Marshal. Miz Lona come all the way out here to have supper with my Pop, and you have to come disturb her and get her all upset. Now is that any sorta gentlemanly thing to do." He bends down to pick up the still-smoldering cigar."
On the porch, Lindley gapes at Wilona then runs after her.
Lindley saunters over from the porch.
On the porch, Tucker takes yet another step back, then several steps forward as he pushes his way into the house.
Tucker walks over from the porch.
Wilona hollers loudly through the study door, "Karl Forsythe Quintan!"
Lindley stares disbelievingly at Wilona. "Miz Lona! What the hell are you doin woman??"
Lindley pushes forward, trying to get between Wilona and Karl's door.
Tucker curses loudly. William Tucker would put this ranch way down upon his list of places to be. Way down. He grimaces, "Wilona.. put down that gun."
Wilona pounds on Karl's door, she ignores Tucker.
Allard pulls the door open, glaring down at Wilona. "Shut up, woman."
Karl exits his study, his eyes on Allard only.
Wilona has a gun in her hand. And she points it at Karl.
Lindley yells, "POP! Get back in there and shut the door!" He tackles Wilona, reaching fir her gun arm.
Allard shakes his head and just walks around the fracas to the front door. Maybe they'll all kill each other. What a pleasant thought.
Wilona screams, stumbling under Lindley's pounce, the gun discharges as she crumples under his weight.
Tucker looks even more taken aback. The place is becoming a regular party. He screeches a rather inhuman sound.
Tucker bends down and attempts to pull apart the falling bodies, "Yer both crazy!"
Lindley groans and struggles to pin Wilona down. The gun went off. He has no idea if it hit anything, including himself.
Allard stops at the gunshot, looking round casually to see who got it. His eyes fix on Karl. How nice.
Karl blinks a few time, trying to understand the chaos that has erupted in his home. A small red stain begins to appear on his right shoulder. The hit taking a few minutes to register.
Wilona drops the gun, pulling herself out from under Lindley. She notices the red on Karl's shoulder and blanches, "Oh dear god!" She looks like she might faint.
Tucker has yet to fully take in what is going on in the surrounding chaos. But the bright stain upon Karl's shirt does more than a fine job. His eyes widen with the simple shock of it. He curses softly, the sound trails from his mouth and is whispered away.
Allard smiles at Karl, the smile only reaching half his face. God works in mysterious ways.
Lindley clambers around on the floor, growling and cursing at Wilona as she pushes him away. He struggles to his feet and looks for his father. His eyes widen as he sees the growing bloodstain. "Pop!!" He glares at Wilona and throws himself at her again. "You bitch!"
Karl doesn't really notice the wound till he catches Wilona's reaction, he looks his hand reaching up to touch his shoulder, his fingers rubbing the red liquid between his fingers in astonishment.
Wilona is too stunned to defend herself as Lindley jumps at her.
Allard leans against the far wall, arms crossed, cigar clenched lazily in his teeth. Priceless. He wouldn't miss this for the world.
Tucker kicks Lindley in the ribs. Lest, pretty sure its the ribs. He shouts, "Get off of her you bastard." He turns to Allard, "Don't stand there like a fence post, go get a doctor!" The fact he even thinks about trying to help Karl would cause this man amusement, where he to think about it.
Lindley oofs as Tucker kicks him. He rolls away from Wilona a bit, but still has a grip on one arm. "You gonna do somethin about -this- Marshal? Or do you only arrest people you don'y like? Not real murderers?"
Karl calmly removes his shirt, wincing at the pain. He pushes his collar back and inspects the wound. Damn, the bullet is lodged in the muscle, at least it's stanching the bleeding.
Allard rolls his eyes at Tucker. Doctor, right-o. Coming right up. As soon as he makes it back to town. Might take him a good long while, though, seeing as how _tired_ Allard is, just now.. He turns to go, moving with graceful laziness.
Wilona tries to pull her arm free from Lindley, she looks to Tucker imploringly, her voice hoarse, "It was an accident."
Lindley glares at Allard. He would like to have a couple words with that SOB right now, but he just grinds his teeth, very much aware of Tucker's presence.
Tucker growls, "Shuddup Lindley." He bends down and places one hand on Wilona's shoulder, the other on her arm. He helps her to her feet. He speaks quietly, "You alright Miss Wilona." Now there is a good question. Never mind the man bleeding in front of him, everyone knows where Tucker's feelings lay.
Karl moves over to sit at the table, his movement slow so as not to jar his shoulder. After he is seated he looks to the woman sprawled on the floor, disgusted by Tucker's concern for her. Yeah, she's his whore that's obvious. He clears his throat and loudly states, "I want you to arrest her, Marshal Tucker."
Allard walks off towards the door that leads outside.
Lindley glares at Allard’s back and stomps after him.
Tucker pauses to give Karl a sharp glance, then back to Wilona.
Wilona's mouth gapes open as she stares at Karl. Arrest her?
Tucker speaks out of the corner of his mouth, "It was an accident Karl."
Wilona reaches for Tucker's arm, she's a bit weak to think she can stand on her own, her small body bruised from Lindley's crushing leaps.
Tucker helps Wilona to her feet. His eyes trailing sympathetically over her small frame. He turns to Karl Quintan, his eyes trailing unsympathetically over his vile frame.
Karl raises his brow, "Accident? She had the gun drawn when I stepped out of the study. Way I see it, Lindley just saved my life, who knows where the bullet would have hit if he hadn't deflected it. You are still the Marshal round here, ain't you Mr. Tucker?"
Lindley hurries over from the porch.
Lindley stomps back in, winded.
Wilona stands, keeping one hand on Tucker's arm. She shies back as Lindley steps back inside. She's shaking, "Karl.... I... It... I hadn't intended to shoot, I just wanted to know what you did with Ylsa." Her voice quivers but she manages to hold in the tears.
Tucker sounds amazingly humble. He speaks softly, "Karl.. I was kind enough to release your son.. cause it was the only -honest- mistake he ever made in his entire life. Wilona didn't mean to shoot you. You know that."
Lindley goes to Karl's side, truly concerned. He glares at both Tucker and Wilona. "Honest mistake?? The hell it was. I bet anything she came out here -just- to shoot him! You idiot, Tucker!"
Karl shakes his head, "Killing a horse, and trying to kill me are two things entirely. Are you going to do your job, Marshal. Or am I going to have to go to the Judge and see that you do?"
Karl looks up to his son, an entirely different look there then before. Lindley saved his life, not something he'd ever expect from his lazy boy.
Tucker looks pale. He looks at Wilona. His eyes quietly search her face, the first time he has dared to do so.. in some time. Yes, William Tucker knows the law. He speaks quietly, "Wilona.. your going to have to come with me for a while."
Wilona's tears can't be held back anylonger. She returns Tucker's gaze, the tears pooling along the bottom of her lids and reflecting utter betrayal. She had assumed he hated her, but had no idea how deeply that ran. She blinks a few times, feeling the choking anxiety around her. Unable to speak she just nods to Tucker, she's not going to fight it.
Tucker puts a hand on Wilona's shoulder squeezing it lightly. He turns upon his heel and faces the Quintans. His words drip their usual poison. "Alright Karl, I know the law. But listen clearly. Next time either of you make even one small mistake, no matter how honest and well meaning it will be. I will hang you so high, even the buzzards won't fly upwards to pick out your eyeballs."
Karl looks rather smug, he eyes Wilona and then looks back at Tucker. Letting the silence hang. He always did love that woman, or lust after her anyway... but she's soiled goods now. Ah what sweet revenge intones his voice as he replies to Tucker, "And what a way with words you have, my dear Marshal. I imagine you can charm Miss Lona to death with such sweet words of how horrific her impending death will be. I mean, after all. Murder, even attempted murder, is a hanging offense." He looks directly at Wilona, "Will be quite a loss to mar those green eyes though."
Wilona definitely looks like she might faint.
Lindley sneers at Tucker. "You better just do your job, -Marshal-. He nods in agreement with Karl. Better be hangin' th ones that deserve it, and stop threatening us that don't."
Tucker looks even more deathly pale than he did before. He runs a hand over his pantleg. He turns to Wilona and grabs her lightly under the arm. He bends close, "Come with me Miss Jenkins. No reason to listen to these two bastards any longer."
Allard strolls over from the porch.
Allard holds the door for the doctor, still looking rather bored.
Tucker turns back to Karl, "Damn shame that bullet wasn't a little lower and to the right. You would have made this whole town a damn might happier."
Wilona nods solemnly, turning towards the door. She stops as she notices Allard.
Tucker turns back to Wilona, escorting her out.
Webster hurries in after Allard, and moves at once to Karl with a vague nod at the others.
Karl ignores Tucker, now that the Doctor has arrived, the urgency of his wound seems to have too.
Lindley is sitting next to Karl, glaring at Tucker and Wilona. He sneers, "Get out, Marshal. We'll see you at the hanging, Miz Lona."
Karl waves the Doctor over to his seat.
Wilona moves off towards the door that leads outside.
Tucker looks at Allard, "Don't do anything stupid Allard. My jail is full enough."
Tucker hurries off towards the door that leads outside.
Allard just laughs under his breath, and looks at Lindley. "I presume you'll take the good doctor home? I've no particular desire to stick around till he's done patching up your no-good son of a bitch father." His tone is light, pleasant.
Lindley nods to Webster. "Thanks fer comin Doc."
Webster nods vaguely to Lindley, examining the wound while his hands fumble with his bag.
Lindley turns his gaze to Allard, eyes narrowing icily. He grinds his teeth and hisses, "I'm just reeeaal glad to see you were prompt in getting the Doctor. Allard." His voice is coached in a threatening undertone
Allard grins broadly, in a friendly way, at Lindley. "Anything to help the Quintans, don't you know, Lindley."
Lindley knows he could wipe the grin off that face with one sentence. He's got somethin he could hold over Allard's head all right, but not here. He glances at the doctor. It wouldn't do to have witnesses. He just stares coldly at Allard. "You keep that in mind, Allard."
Webster mops blood from Karl's wound with a clean rag, and examines it very closely, leaning his head back to peer through the lower part of his bifocals. "Uh-hmmmmm....looks like nothing vital was hit, luckily...."
Allard makes an outrageous kissy-noise at Lindley. "I'm sure we'll be meeting soon, love. Don't forget me, now."
Karl growls as the two men taunt eachother, worse then schoolboys. He barks through his pain at Lindley, "Get me a bottle, boy."
Webster nods, and digs in his bag for some forceps.
Lindley growls and looks away. His attention is diverted by Karl and he stomps into the study to fetch the bottle.
Allard just laughs again, and turns to go.
Allard strides off towards the door that leads outside.
Lindley hurries off towards the study door.
Karl's eyes follow Allard's leaving. He curses a few non repeatable names under his breath then steals himself for Webster's probing with the forceps.
Webster glances up at Karl with an apologetic look. "This is going to hurt," he warns.
Karl nods once, as if giving him permission and then stares holes into the study door, where's his damn son.
Webster probes with the forceps quite suddenly, seizing the bullet and pulling it out with a quick, obviously very practiced motion. It hurts, but it's over with very fast.
Karl inhales sharply, wincing at the pain. He knows it was over rather quickly, but he barks at Webster just the same, "Damn it man!!"
Webster ignores this, stanching the wound quickly, then peering at the wound again. He looks at Karl finally, a mild expression. "Don't worry, the worst is over," he remarks.
Lindley hurries over from the study.
Lindley comes back out with an almost empty bottle of whiskey and a full, unopened one. He hands the near-empty one to Karl first then sets to prying the cork out of the fresh one.
Karl glances up as his son returns, he looks rather grateful. He let's the doctor continue his work, ignoring him mostly and addresses his son. "Did you see the look on the Marshal's face when I told him to arrest Lona?"
Karl looks at his bottle then at his son's full one and clear his throat. Wrong move.
Lindley finally gets the cork loose and hands the second bottle to his father as well. The model son tonight. "Here Pop." He nods. "Yeah, he ain't gonna hang her willingly, no way. I doubt she even spends the night in jail... 'less he's in bed with her."
Karl takes the bottle with a quick tug, growling as it sends pain through his injured shoulder. He takes a long draw from it, "Yup, 'fraid your right. Gonna have to go have me a talk with the Judge and make sure our friend the Marshal follows the rules."
Webster digs in his bag for a bottle with a nasty-smelling chemical in it, and sprays some on the wound. It stings a bit, but just a bit. Slowly his mind catches up with the conversation. "What happened?" he asks.
Lindley paces back and forth, just itching to tell Karl that he's got an ace up his sleeve. But it will have to wait. "How's it comin' Doc?"
Lindley offers, "That whore, Wilona, shot my Pop."
Webster frowns a bit. He doesn't much care for that word. "Well...looks like it ain't very serious. Not too much blood loss, missed anything vital. I sprayed carbolic acid on it, so it ought not to fester...." He begins applying a bandage.
Karl nods, finding no illmanner in Lindley's words. He takes another drink from his bottle, "Damn near would have killed me too, if Lindley hadn't saved me." he gives a short, very short mind you, look of pride towards his son.
Karl nods, "Thanks Doc. Lindley, see that the Doc is reimbursed for his time out here and all."
Webster nods offhandedly. "Was anyone else around at the time?" he asks, trying for a casual tone.
Lindley's heart leaps with joy.. well, that might be a bit strong. He's pleased however, that his father at least gives him a little credit. "Yeah, Tucker was here. He saw the whole thing. And Allard (slimebag) stepped out in the middle of it."
Webster nods. "Well. If you don't mind, I'll ride out and have another look at it in a couple days, just to make sure it's healing right."
Lindley adds, "I think Allard was cheering for the Whore."
Karl nods again, quite nice to the Doc. Afterall, he's never done nothing to cross him. "Thanks again Doc, Sure appreciate ya ridin' out here." He tests his bandage.
Lindley nods and extends a hand, "Yeah, yeah sure Doc. You do that. Come on out and make sure Pop's all right."
Webster shrugs, and nods. "Just doing my job, Mr. Quintan." He wipes his own hands clean before taking Lindley’s and shaking it, briefly.
Lindley lets Webster's hand go then suddenly thinks of something. He digs in his pants pocket and comes out with a wad of neatly folded bills. He peels off a few and shoves them toward Webster. "Here ya go, Doc. Fer yer time and expenses."
Webster nods. "Thank you." He stuffs the bills in his pocket, and packs up his bag.
Karl nods to his son, good boy. He takes another long draw from the bottle, hoping the liquor will dull the pain.
Webster gets his bag shut and looks up. "Um...Mr. Allard brought me out on his horse...don't suppose you can fix me with a ride back?"
Karl nods, thinking about his stables stock.
Karl says "take Vasilis"
Karl says "The Roan gelding, about 15 hands."
Lindley is about to sit down next to Karl then straightens again. He really doesn't want to ride back to town again tonight. He would bet Tucker has an ambush laid already. Heh. He is about to offer his own horse then looks to Karl. Whew. "Yeah, jest leave him at the stables in town. I'll pick him up in a few days."
Webster nods. "All right, then. Thanks. If you just take it easy with that arm, don't try to do any heavy work, you ought to be fine pretty quick." He gets his hat, nods, and moves to exit.
Lindley sounds pretty relieved. "Goodnight, Doc. Thanks again."
Webster hurries off towards the door that leads outside.
Karl sighs, looking about the room. He hasn't even gotten a chance to eat his dinner.
Karl reaches for a cigar, he gave his last one to that bastard Allard. He holds his hand out to Lindley, "Give me a smoke."
Lindley paces back and forth, stopping before you. "Pop, are you alright? You need me ta help ya to bed? ..." He pats his chest and retrieves a cigar. "Course. Here ya are." He even offers a light. "That bastard Allard. Ye got that one right. The son of a bitch." He growls softly. "What'd he come here for anyhow?" He has a pretty good guess, but might as well ask.
Karl takes the cigar, and the light too. "Lookin' for his whore."
Lindley resumes his pacing. "I figgered."
Karl's eyes narrow, "You know where she's at?"
Lindley quickly regains the smug expression that he wore before all this bullshit began. He almost seems offended by the very question. "Acourse I do."
Karl slams his fist down on the table, "Damn it boy! What did I tell you about doing stuff without thinking!?"
Lindley blinks. "But Pop. I did think about it. I thought about it hard." Ok, so maybe it was after-the-fact. Minor detail. "Look Pop, don't you see, this is the ace we need."
Karl looks mighty upset, "Christ, don't you get it?? We are the first persons they look at when she shows up missing! Where is she at?"
Lindley holds out a hand in a calming gesture. "Yeah, but they got no proof, Pop. Only suspicions. And I got an alibi. A rock solid one. An' I'm sure you do too. Look, I heard bout Lanna's testimony. I heard bout what she said, Pop." His voice drops lower, very serious now. "If they believe what she said about Conner killin' Schultz, then that implicates you, right? BUT..." He gets to the punchline. "BUT if the jury hangs, and they don't convict Conner, they can't charge you on the same evidence, right?"
Lindley says you, but what he really means, always, is 'we'.
Karl would hit you, if his shoulder wasn't hurting so bad. He sighs and rubs his temple, "I had it taken care of boy. Now we're gonna have to kill the Mexican, and damn if it ain't going to hang over our heads." He slams his fist against the table again, jarring the bottles. "Damn it! How can you be so stupid?"
Lindley blinks. He had this all figured out. He traces back over the whole plan to see where he screwed up. No, he's sure he had this figured out foolproof like. "But Pop. The Spic is on the jury. It will take them days just to figure out what to do. And when they resume... if its not a mistrial.. we can blackmail Allard with her."
Karl holds up his hand, "I can't ransom her to Allard, when you know damn straight she'll run to Tucker and point fingers at both of us."
Lindley frowns. He really thought he had this figured out. He rakes a hand through his hair, trying to think this through. Lindley is not a cold-blooded killer. He never intended to kill Ylsa... at least not himself. He -hires- people to do that, but they always screw up. The thought of killing Ylsa turns his stomach and he scrapes for an alternative. "Pop, we could blackmail them to just get out of town. Both Allard and the Spic."
Karl scrubs his face, "Blackmail them with what?"
Lindley's fingers tap against his leg a little nervously. This is not going as well as he hoped. Not at all in fact. "With her life. Let her go if they both leave town. And what about Allard, he ain't exactly Mr. Law-Abiding-Citizen, I don't think. Ain't you got somethin on him, Pop?"
Karl says "No I don't, not a thing. Damn it boy, I hadn't wanted to make the one man who can keep the railroad from destroying our business and enemy! And what's to keep Ylsa from running to the Marshal once we let her go? Huh? She's seen your face hasn't she? She'll squeal on you like the pig she was fathered by!""
Lindley stares at you like you just told him you could ride a horse to the moon. "Pop, you can't be serious. That bastard just stood here and said it was too bad Wilona didn't kill you. and you want to be his FRIEND? Pop, there is something seriously wrong with that."
Karl sighs, "Well that was after I hinted that I had Ylsa. I didn't know _we_ really had her, but he was gonna reneg on our deal, so I pulled the card. I made him an enemy by doing so."
Lindley sees some hope here and offers, "Well, see Pop, aren't ya glad you weren't lyin to him?"
Karl looks up at you, he definitely could smack you and smack you hard. He tries to think, "Where is she?"
Lindley has no intention of giving away that little tidbit. Not even to Karl. Especially since he would probably kill him if he knew she was here on the property. "I got her safe, Pop. No one will find her."
Karl repeats, "Where?"
Lindley hems and haws then whines. "Someplace safe, Pop. Look, if I don't tell you, you don't have to say you know." Its also a little bit of insurance, but he doesn't point that out.
Karl let's the girls whereabouts go for now, he has other ways of finding out. "She's seen you?"
Lindley tries not to react visibly. Oh yeah, she's seen him, kicked him, elbowed him, glared, glowered and cussed at him. He just shrugs it off. "Yeah, it don't matter though."
Karl takes a long drink from his bottle, "You're gonna clean up your mess, Lindley, you take care of this. If you go down, I ain't goin with you. You understand, boy?"
Lindley grinds his teeth. He is not happy. This is not what he envisioned, not at all. He had fully expected Karl to congratulate him on his quick thinking and brilliant strategy. He just growls, "Yeah, right Pop." He heads for the door. "Hope yer feelin better tomorrow." Maybe Allard was right.
"Boy." He does that alot when he's angry, calls you boy. Better then when you were younger, and he'd call you Christopher.
Lindley pauses before the door, and turns back, his brow furrowed with anger and rebuke. "What?"
Karl chews on his cigar, spitting a piece of tobacco out, his warning is sincere, "You watch your back now, take some of my men to help you. Well figure us a way out of this mess. But from now on, for you go off thinking with the little brain in your pants, you come to me, y'hear?"
Lindley's expression starts to relax a little until Karl gets to the part about his brain. He resents that. Screwing that Spic was the -last- thing on his mind. Well, maybe not the very last, but pretty damn close. Especially after she started biting. His heel grinds against the floor as he turns and stalks out. "Sure Pop." Cold and emotionless.
Lindley saunters off towards the door that leads outside.
Lindley has left.
Mean While, Tucker Arrests Wilona
Tucker doesn't say a word until he steps off the front porch
Tucker nods at the bay. He speaks quietly, "I assume that's the horse you rode here on?"
Wilona pauses looking at the two horse and the towards the town beyond. "Tucker, I don't want to die."
Wilona nods.
Wilona says "Mr. Benington's horse."
Tucker nods. He turns and faces Wilona, taking her, pulling her to his chest. His arms wrap around her in the embrace.
Wilona falls into the embrace, breaking into quiet sobs against his shoulder. If only to recapture the safety here, she's wanted him to hold her just so, but not for theses reasons.
Tucker kisses the side of her neck, whispering to her, "Ahrm sorry Wilona... so sorry. He uses the law against me, as he always does. Ahrm so sorry."
Wilona steps back, glancing to the ranch house then to the horse. She whispers hoarsely to Tucker, "I could leave, ride away and you could say I escaped..."
Allard hurries over from the porch.
Allard stops, looking at the two of them. "Not gone yet?" His gaze is slightly mocking.
Wilona is in Tucker's embrace, sobbing. She is looking up at him imploringly.
Allard stares at Wilona with ill-concealed contempt. He looks from her to Tucker.
At one time, William Tucker would have. If it were not for that silver ring, laying, tarnished in a desk drawer. He just holds her back, unable to answer. He looks over as Allard walks in.
Tucker speaks hoarsely, "What is it Allard?"
Reardon has arrived.
Allard's face grows more serious, strangely, seeing Tucker's expression. For once, he doesn't stay to torment them. Maybe if there had been no Ylsa.. He just climbs onto his horse, tired suddenly, and trots out of the yard, not looking back. Hell indeed.
Wilona is trying to control her sobs, she is in Tucker's arms being comforted by him.
Tucker is standing in the courtyard, holding Wilona. Allard exits, Reardon enters. Never has there been such activity in this courtyard, except in branding time. He whispers soft words into Wilona's ear.
Allard walks off towards the road to the southeast.
Tucker whispers "They would know Wilona. They would know."
Reardon stops, not having intended, really, to trespass, but at sight of Wilona, crying, and Tucker holding her, he frowns. Something's obviously happened, and while he's resolved not to interfere with these two again, he is painfully curious. He takes a few more steps, and clears his throat.
Wilona looks up at the sound, seeing Reardon. She wants to explain what has happened, ask Reardon to help her even, all these thoughts tumbling in her mind and all she can manage to spill out is, "You'll take care of Travis, won't you?"
Tucker looks over to Reardon, breaking from the embrace. He clears his throat as well, scuffing his feet in the dirt. Afraid to speak more, than just the shuffle of a boot.
Reardon arches an eyebrow, and looks over Wilona's head to get a look at Tucker's expression, and then he looks directly at Wilona. "Travis? Of.. course, of course I'll take care of him, just like you will." He looks again at both of you, and asks, "But what's going on?"
Tucker looks distinctly pained. He nods firmly at Reardon, "John.. Wilona is under arrest, for attempted murder. Ahrm afraid you will have to learn more later." He looks at Wilona, pleadingly, "Wilona.. why don't ya hop on that horse and follow me back to town."
Wilona nods, very obedient and goes to mount her mare. Her hands are shaking as she reaches for the reigns.
Reardon's expression goes from confusion, to anger, and confusion again. He stares, outright, at Tucker, and shakes his head slightly, as his lips quirk into a slight smile. "Will, I could swear you just said Wilona, attempted murder, and arrest in the same sentence."
Tucker walks to Lily. He speaks softly to the horse, running a long and slender hand along her neck. He speaks a little louder to Reardon, but does not turn to him, "That is correct John. Ahrm afraid so. Go and badger Karl if you wish it, he is the one pressing charges."
Tucker pulls himself up into Lily's saddle.
Wilona looks down at John, she's very scared. She spurs her horse to follow Tucker, "John, you'll take care of Travis right?" She needs to ask this again.
Reardon stares as long as he can at Tucker, disbelieving, and then he turns back to Wilona, and nods once, quickly. "Of course, 'lona, you go on with the marshal."
Webster walks over from the porch.
Wilona is on Nesbit, waiting for Tucker to take her away.
Reardon stands in the yard, still, motionless, for the most part.
Webster comes out of the front door and blinks, surprised to find folks here.
Astride Lily, Tucker shifts on his saddle, looking at Wilona. He nods at her, then trots off.
Lily heads towards the road to the southeast.
Wilona doesn't even look at the doctor. She spurs her horse onwards, head hung low. She is trying hard to get her crying under control.
Wilona and Tucker ride to the Square and Dismount.
Tucker says "Ahrll make sure he gets back to the stables."
Wilona looks at the bay mare, "Someone should see she's returned to Mr. Benington she says..nodding as Tucker reads her mind.
Wilona glances at the saloon. "My son."
Tucker steps upon the front porch of the sheriff's office. He waits for you.
Wilona looks between the saloon and the Sheriff's office, then finally nods, ascending after Tucker.
Tucker takes a keyring from his pocket. He opens Cell 2 and enters.
In the cell across the hall, Conner awakens, noticing Tucker and Wilona. He rubs his eyes and moves to the cell bars.
Tucker stands quietly, his arms crossed in front of him. He ignores Conner completely.
Wilona looks about, her expression one of lost hope. She looks at Tucker again, "I could have left."
In the cell across the hall, Conner hollers across the hall, "Hey Marshal, if your looking for a bed to take your whore too, find someother place, I'm sleeping over here." He thinks he's going to die anyway, might as well be now.
Tucker glares over at Conner, then back to Wilona, "Ahrm sorry Wilona. I don't want to do this. But I don't have a choice."
Wilona sighs, sitting on the cot. She also ignores Conner, but she can't ignore the fact that he's across the hall. "What am I to do?" Hopeless.
In the cell across the hall, Conner glances as he hears noise from the office, he grumbles louder, "Can't even get two minutes peace round here."
Tucker crouches before you. He places both his hands upon your knees and looks at you, "I will think about it Wilona. We will think about it. I ain't gonna hang you.. there is no way. You will be out of here within the week."
Tucker hollers, "I will be there in a minute, hold yer horses!"
Tucker returns to Wilona.
Wilona reaches out and places a hand tentatively against your cheek, it is trembling. In fact, her whole body is trembling before you. "William, I never meant... I'm sorry." It's hard to tell if she's apologizing for tonight... or something else.
In the cell across the hall, Conner watches the scene, he spits out a stream of tobacco into the center of the hallway, and then makes a loud Awwww sound. "Isn't that just sweet." He states sarcastically.
Tucker keeps focused upon tonight. It is all he can do, for to do otherwise... He closes his eyes and nods, "I know ya didn't Wilona. Karl will drop the charges. Ahrll make sure to that."
Tucker looks at Conner. "Shaddup Conner.. you won't be so talkative when I put that rope around yer neck."
Wilona nods, "Okay." She winces as Tucker hollers to Conner, too easy for her to imagine that same rope around her own neck.
Tucker searches Wilona's face, "Do ya want me to bring your son by? What do you want me to do?"
Wilona shakes her head, "I don't want him to see me in here, make sure Reardon takes him, but William....don't let him leave town with Travis.....please."
Tucker rises and exits the cell. He locks the door behind him, "Ahrll be back Wilona. I had better see what John wants." He has little urge to talk to the man. Has little urge to try to explain what has happened. He was planning on leaving Maddock after putting the rope around Conner's neck. Once again, this town holds him by a tight grasp. But Wilona.. anything but this.. anything but this.
Tucker steps out through the open cell door.
In the hallway, Tucker hurries off towards the office.
In the Sheriff’s Office....
Tucker enters, he shuts the oak door behind him and turns to Reardon, "What is it John?"
Reardon mumbles something, and he unfolds his arms. "What in the hell is going on, Will? You're seriously locking Wilona up and sticking her in the same building as this Conner fellow?"
Tucker crosses to the desk, he places his fingertips against it and looks at Reardon, "Yea.. that's exactly what Ahrm doing."
Zylle stands in the doorway, peering in hesitantly.
Tucker notices Zylle there. It does not ease his heart any. He is standing behind the desk, near Reardon. The fly is just hanging out, buzzing around, as flies are apt to do.
Reardon shakes his head. "For what reason? Even if she did.." HE stops, looking over his shoulder, at the new arrival, and he frowns slightly, then looks back at Tucker. "Even if she did do what she's being held for, she doesn't deserve that kind of treatment."
Tucker sighs unhappily. He takes off his hat and puts it upon the desk. He mutters, "Its the best place for her John. I don't want her getting hurt, if Lindley decides to do more."
Reardon frowns, more deeply by degrees. "Need I remind you, marshal, that we are still deliberating over the fate of a man that is presumably still in these cells, who shot a man right back there, this safe place, you've not put Miss Jenkins?"
Zylle creeps in, going to sit on her heels in the corner by the door. Listening carefully, watching Tucker and the man, alternately.
Webster enters and pauses at the door, looking at each person in the room briefly.
Zylle looks at the door, then nods slightly from her position in the dark corner. She nods at him slightly.
Webster nods back to Zylle, slightly, then turns his eyes to Tucker, hesitating before speaking. Not wanting to interrupt, but...
Reardon waits for Tucker's answer, his expression intense, and angry, is he's trying not to be.
This whole office is getting crowded. He looks at Reardon, "John.. its the best place for her. I ken keep an eye on things here. I don't want Lindley decided to take further revenge. I would not put it past him."
Zylle's forehead wrinkles. 'Her?'
Reardon mutters a curse under his breath, and he glances at the desk briefly, then looks up again. "You could release her to my custody. You know I'm not going to try to spirit anyone off, marshal, at least I can hope you'd trust me this far. _This_," he looks around again. "isn't a place for her."
Tucker nods slowly, "I know.. I know it ain't. But I don't want your life in danger either John. I would suggest.. that you go to her room, bring her some things. Make it as comfortable here as you can. If I ken't get this matter resolved in three days, then I will do just that, alright?"
Zylle listens, quietly.
Reardon lets go an explosive sigh, and he nods. "Alright, alright.. I'm not going to press you, alright. Let me talk to her though, will you? To see what she might like?"
Tucker nods at the back office door, he mutters to Reardon, "Go Ahead." Where the hell is Greyson. Why does he have to be responsible for this. Why does he have to let Wilona apologize. He plops down in the chair and looks at Webster. With a wry, sad smile, he says, "Next..."
Webster can't help grinning a second. "Well, thought you might want to know. Quintan ain't hurt real bad..."
Zylle looks at the floor, then at the door. Maybe she should go.
Reardon strides off towards oak door.
Tucker nods at Webster, "Yea.. I thought so. Not the way he was spittin venom. He was more than happy to do this to Wilona. And had more than enough words to speak clearly. IT was an accident."
Webster nods. "You saw it?"
Tucker leans forward and runs his hand through his hair, "Of course.. I saw the whole thing."
Webster nods. He looks slightly relieved, but still uncomfortable. This is going to be nasty any way you look at it. "Well...that makes me feel better, anyhow." He nods again. "Well, I won't keep you from...whatever you need to do."
Zylle stiffens, just a little. Wilona.
The End