Maddock Square Golden Phoenix South Porch
A wooden porch, raised slightly above the level of the street, with a wooden railing running along the edge between wooden posts that support a sloping roof overhead. The wall behind the porch is covered with large windows and wooden benches with slatted backs and an armrest at either end have been placed in front of them. The windows have large fancy letters painted on them in red and yellow spelling out "Golden Phoenix Dance Hall and Saloon." Light spills out from the saloon windows and lanterns hung from the posts have been lit to hold back the night but darkness still gathers in the corners of the porch. As the endless summer night stills beneath the clear arch of the sky. Steps on the southeast corner of the porch lead down to the street where there is a watering trough and hitching rails. A pairs of batwing doors to the north leads into the saloon another pair of batwing doors to the northwest lead into the dance hall. To the northeast is a red and blue candystriped pole with a white globe on top standing next to a door that opens into a barber shop. The porch continues on to the east where it curves around the side of the building. The moon is a slender crescent in the hot summer skies.
Theo heads up to the porch from the street, and glances around as if he might be looking for someone.
Jordan is just standing on the porch, leaning against a post, and watching the comings and goings in the square.
[Jordan] JA little over six feet tall this young man looks to be in his mid twenties. Unkempt ash blond hair flows down to his shoulders, a rough beard and a moustache of the same hue grace his rugged, bronzed face. Sapphire blue eyes, often lightening or darkening to match his mood, tell of an assured, yet strangely guarded man. His build is muscular and solid, athletic but by no means brawny.
He wears an off-white, collarless shirt, buttons open to mid chest with sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Non-descript brown pants are held up by a pair of leather suspenders. Battered brown boots and a well cared for brown Stetson complete his wardrobe.
Jordan gets a nod from Theo, and a half-hearted grin. The youth carries a violin case, and appears to be heading toward the saloon proper. Upon seeing the Sheriff, however, Theo raises a hand in greeting and looks vaguely guilty. He's alone, without any particular escort.
Jordan tips his hat in the direction of the young man, and accompanies it with a low greeting of, "Evening." To the sheriff, however, all he gives is a nod. His eyes move back to the square, as if waiting for someone.
Barron frowns as he makes his way towards the porch stepping onto the stairs and upwards. "Theo..." he says, trailing off as he walks towards the young man.
"You know what ah told ya..."
"I was checking to see if Pops was here," Theo responds, "Since he wasn't at the room and not in the lower room and I figured I'd really be pushing it to go over to the area he likes to hang out. I'm going out of my mind, Sheriff, staying at the house and I think your men went home today. It's Saturday, after all. Maybe," Theo smirks, "They're going to bed early so they can get a good start on the morning, for church." Or an early in, in the line at the whorehouse.
Jordan seems nonchalant, as if he doesn't really hear the conversation going on just right to the side of him on the porch. But a twinge to the corner of his lip, just a quiver mind you, tell that he's probably hearing, and fighting off a smile.
Barron shakes his head, pausing on the porch, "If you git caught and get kilt," he warns in a quiet voice, "Not only will yer father be pissed at me, but ah'll be pissed at you. It's fer yer own good."
"Tell you what," Theo's head lifts slightly, "You go in there and buy me a beer and you a beer and I'll sit here and play my fiddle a bit and you can keep an eye on me. That'll keep me being responsible, won't it?" Theo offers, glancing over at Jordan and grinning all the merrier, before he looks again at the Sheriff.
A scuff of his boot on the wooden planks of the porch as Jordan shifts position slightly, that waiting and leaning against a post can get taxing on a body if they don't move every now and then. As the youth mentions playing the fiddle, though, he actually allows that smile to begin to form. Eyes still look out to the street though, maybe it was just a fly there on his moustache that he was trying to get rid of after all.
Barron grumbles something under his breath. The door to the saloon is pushed open hard, and he stomps inside, disappearing for a good minute. He'll return at that time, carrying one beer and handing it to Theo before taking a seat.
By the time that Barron's returned, Jordan's gotten another grin and Theo's claimed a chair, settled down and has opened the violin case and removed his instrument. Nimble fingers, slender and strong, ease over the strings like Don Juan might caress his latest conquest; Theo then tips the bow across the strings and lets it warble out a testing melody. He looks up, that smile coming back quickly, "Why thank you, Sheriff. Not joining me in a drink? Or is this drink exactly the duration I'm allowed to be out of the boarding house safe haven." From under his hat brim, Theo winks.
A hand is lifted to allow fingers to gently stroke at Jordan's beard. Moments later a contemplative look crosses his face, timed right after the first notes are played on the 'fiddle'. A slight turn of his head back towards the 'boy', but by that time his impassive mask if firmly in place.
Barron mumbles, "Don't push it." is all the lanky Texan says. He settles onto his seat, tilts his hat to protect his eyesight, and just attempts to forcibly relax.
Theo chuckles, reaches to take a sip of the beer, with a murmured and cheerful 'thank you', then he props the instrument and begins fine-tuning it. Doesn't take long, for Theo played yesterday, and the youth then launches into a merry melody that sounds rather Victorian and medival -- almost as if it should be played on a whistle.
Jordan watches the young man play his instrument, the melody evoking just a slight furrow of his brow that is quickly felt, and wiped away. He still stand silently, shoulder agains the post. But his body is now turned halfway, so he can keep an eye on the square, as well as watching the young man play.
On the street, Saturday night on the town is going to be something, even in a pathetic little town like this. From the east, at a casual pace, a plain brown horse saunters in, carrying a fellow of average proportions for the day and age. The horse, as if it knows this trail fairly well, heads over to the water barrel, and the rider doesn't protest as the animal sinks his muzzle deep into the water. Indeed, the rider gets off and waits, only then leading the horse off toward a post.
Barron is leaning on his chair. He's idly watching folks pass by, his feet flat on the ground and his hat tilted to shield his eyes. He watches the new arrival, stifling a yawn with his hand.
Practiced. Theo's respect for the instrument conveys this, as well as many hours in practice and perhaps a natural talent for rhythm and 'ear'. The young man enjoys the play and plays less to inspire anyone to drop coin into the still-open case, but more for his own enjoyment. This tune stops, so that Theo can take another sip of beer, and he grins over to Barron, includes Jordan, "Requests?"
Barron nods to Theo and glances back at the man that just slid off the horse, and
decides to ask since he hasn't seen anyone he doesn't recognize in town today. 'Yeah," he asks quietly. "You recognize that man?" A soft
voice, designed just to carry between the two, possible to Jordan.
Well of course Jordan isn't officially paying any attention to the young man, so he really can't reply to any questions posed to him, now can he? He just allows a lazy wandering of his gaze over in the youths direction and nothing more. His eyes then shifting back to the square and the approaching horse and rider.
It's dark out there. Theo's already half blind from the lanterns burning on the porch and he hadn't the good sense to protect his night-vision as the Sheriff had done. Theo murmurs back, "That's not a song that I know, Sheriff, but if you hum a few bars, I might manage it." He peers into the darkness with very little effect. "Which?" Which blob out there is defined to be a man? Theo eases the bow over the strings again, this time moving into a fairly soft version of a popular waltz.
On the street, Oblivious to any observation, or perhaps unwilling to look up into the lantern-lit porch, Mason keeps his hat down as he loops the horse's reins in an easy-to-pull knot around the hitching post. Then he straightens and glances down the street, from whence he came, before turning to head to the porch himself.
Barron talks quietly to Theo, just a few soft murmurs. He leans down to scratch at his leg, as he talks to the man. He rises to his feet, leaning against the porch railing and stifling another yawn.
Barron whispers "The man walkin' up, seems to fit the build of one of those men you described. Mason, ah think you called him. If it's him, you give me just a wink, ya hear."
Theo nods back to Barron, frowning slightly. Now there's some tension to his shoulders and the fiddle's echoing it. One used to music, skillfully played, would easily identify tension in the player, now.
On the street, Mason strides off towards the saloon porch to the northwest.
Mason moves over from the square.
Mason has arrived.
Mason steps up on the porch now, and gives a nod to the three there. Both the Sheriff, and the fiddle player, are given something of a split-second longer look. "Evening." Mason doesn't linger, heads straight toward the door.
Barron is scratching at his leg, and in the darkness on the porch lifts his left hand to scratch at his side. He nods to Mason, a polite glance.
Nothing, no reaction at all to the man as he passes by on his way to the saloon. Well that's not completely true, Jordan releases whatever stiffness he acquired do to his long standing posture.
The music falters badly, as Theo dips his head down under Mason's gaze -- it's done so quickly that the brim of his hat dashes the long bow, and there's a soft-muffled curse to fill the void of suddenly-ended music. No sooner has Mason passed than Theo's tilted his hat sidelong at the Sheriff, sending a wide-eyed look in his direction.
Hearing that music jitter to a halt, hearing that curse, Mason just grins. That can be heard when he speaks: "Need a little more practice kid." And he's into the saloon.
Mason moves off towards the saloon.
Mason has left.
You whisper "No wink, but the wide-eyed panic cannot be mistaken." to Barron.
Okay, the reaction of the fiddle playing youth that Jordan is not watching gets a slightly arched brow. A half turn of his head so that he can see the young man as well as the stranger, but he makes not move to leave the side of his post.
Barron pushes off from his lean, "Get back to the boarding house. NOW." he tells Theo, his voice the rasp of a man used to command. The look that comes with it is hard and designed to send the youth into motion. Barron slides his hand down to his side, as he starts towards the door.
Theo drops off the chair, on the side away from the door in which Mason'd gone, with fiddle and bow in hand. As if he's going to do just that -- pack up the instrument, hastily, and get.
Jordan does, finally, push off from that post. Stretching out his back and shoulders as she stands up straight. He's curious now, or at least that's the impression his facial expression gives. And as he watches the fiddle player pack up his eyes drift over to the sheriff. Watching him with more attention.
Barron pushes his way through the door, and into the saloon properly, moving like a man with a purpose.
Theo's fingers don't work very well, and twice he drops the bow, once having it clatter on the floor. He stops, then, with a quick look toward the door. Nothing. Theo draws a deep breath and lets it out again, then tries again to fit the instrument into the case. It goes better this time, though in an almost unconcious gesture, the youth interrupts the packing to slip a hand down and ease the thong off his pistol.
Jordan clears his throat, just loud enough so it's unmistakable to the youth. "Didn't the sheriff tell you to be on your way back to the boarding house, son?" His voice is deep, and kept low. And one might just be able to make out the last remnants of an English accent that he carries from his youth.
"I'm working on it." Then Theo looks up, toward the square, "That's his horse, isn't it? The horse that man rode in on?" Theo's hands still shake as he straightens and looks fully at Jordan again, for confirmation. Theo is, however, already down both steps of the porch.
You walk towards the center of maddock.
On the saloon porch, Jordan watches the young man pass by him in his hurry down off the porch. His eyes follow the movement in the darkness, making sure he sees one 'Theo' sized shadow, heading off towards the boarding house.
Funny that Jordan should check for that. The shadow, in fact, doesn't go there, but instead dips down and crouches, and there's the sound of a scuff of something being shoved under the saloon porch deck. Then Theo straightens, glances again toward the saloon door, before he turns and heads straight toward the hitching post where Mason'd stored his horse. Low murmuring words try to calm the horse, who cannot help but be alert and alerted by Theo's odor of panic.
On the saloon porch, Mason saunters over from the dance hall.
On the saloon porch, Calling out when he doesn't immediately see the young man heading down the road, Jordan's voice carries out into the darkness, "Go home son... don't get yourself in any trouble now."
On the saloon porch, Barron saunters over from the dance hall.
On the saloon porch, Mason erupts out the Dance Hall door, to the sound of shouts behind him before the door closes. He shoots a dark look at the porch, where the occupants had stood previously, before he launches himself across the deck and toward the square, to where his horse stands.
On the saloon porch, Barron comes crashing out a few seconds later, rushing through the door. His hat has left his head to dangle around the back of his neck, and he's moving at full speed now as he barrels towards Mason.
Theo stands, almost half-crouches, near where Mason's tied his horse. The horse is alert, head up and ears pricked forward as it snorts. Theo's trying, with shaking hands, to untie the thing from the railing. Upon hearing Jordan's words, Theo looks up, is about to say something, then sees Mason charge out of the Hall, with the Sheriff on his heels.
On the saloon porch, Not wanting to impeding in the duty of the law, Jordan just jumps down off of the porch and lands a thump on the dirt of the street. He's not avoiding getting involved, oh no. He's just doesn't want to be in the way. Good citizen that he is.
Mason hurries over from the saloon to the northwest.
Mason has arrived.
Barron strolls over from the saloon to the northwest.
Barron has arrived.
Jordan hurries over from the saloon to the northwest.
Jordan has arrived.
There's a curse, hissed from between clenched teeth as Mason high-tails it toward his spooked horse, and toward that shadowy figure there beside it. "Bastard kid, leave it!" The effort to be that loud is lost in Mason's real concentration of getting away from Barron. And now, seeing as his horse may well be turned loose, Mason's aiming for the Theo end of the mare.
Barron puts on a burst of speed. He can't see Theo - well, he can see a dark form, but he doesn't have time to figure out who it is. He puts in some more effort, and seeing as how he's only a short distance away will heave himself at Mason from behind, trying to bring him down in a tackle.
With the horse pitching backwards, and Theo's attention shattered, he only slowly seems to find the end of the rein to pull the slipknot out, and when it comes, Theo sees the immediate proximity of Mason and Barron. Plan A turns to Plan B -- Theo's not fast enough to get on the horse, so the youth takes the free reins and swings them, slinging them across the mare's muzzle. "YAH!" That, together with quickly upraised arms, a whipped off and waved hat, should do the trick.
The streets are quiet in the night evenings, oil lanterns illuminating the road from the buildings around it.
Mostly out of sight, and definitely out of mind, Jordan just makes a wide arc out to the side of where the horse is/was tied up. Nobody is paying him any mind at all probably, so they wouldn't see him slip his hand down to his boot, and draw out a pair of throwing knives.
The mare rears back, stumbling away from the sting and noise, and she wheels and gallops away, with the darkness swallowing her as she finds somewhere else to be.
Mason, arms pumping and his boots pounding the ground is then he's assaulted with a heavy weight from behind. The Sheriff's tackle catches him partially, with an arm catching at his legs and effectively tripping Mason. That fall must hurt, too, and there's an audible thud as well as a
puff of dust. Forward momentum, though, helps Mason keep rolling, and the kicking he does might get one in on the Sheriff, in
retaliation. Then Mason's struggling to get up again, and this time there's a blade in his hand and, with his horse gone, the man's direction still hasn't changed.
Barron goes down with Mason and gets a kick in, for the punch he lands. He rolls to the side and comes back up as Mason does, his hand coming down to his hip. A soft sound as his large Bowie clears leather, and he holds it low and to the side, getting in a fighting stance. "It doesn't have to be like this." he draws, watching Mason carefully.
Barron goes down with Mason and gets a kick in, for the punch he lands. He rolls to the side and comes back up as Mason does, his hand coming down to his hip. A soft sound as a large pistol clears leather, and he holds it in a two handed stance, aiming down the gunbarrel.
Though Theo had already removed the required peace-tie of his pistol and it's ready to be drawn, the youth seems to forget that he's done that, and he turns away from where the horse thunders into the darkness, to see the rolling men on the ground and the haze of dust by lamplight. Theo reaches to automatically cram that hat back on his head for the few seconds that it takes for events to sort themselves out again, over there. He's not yet noticed Jordan, and when he does notice Mason's bearing down on him, and Barron's distinctive gun-shooting stance, Theo lets out a choked noise and turns, also, to flee.
Once the horse is gone, and the tackle occurs, Jordan has completed his arc. This brings him about 5 from the youth. Behind and to the side. He positions a knife in his left hand in throwing position, the other is held by the hilt, ready to feed if he needs a second. But who, who is the knife aimed at? Being a long way from the lights on the saloon porch it would be near impossible to tell.
Adrenaline-pumped up, gun-less and now having had his horse run off, Mason'll try his chances with the kid who might be hostage or shield against the Sheriff's bullets. Jordan's noticed,
peripherally, but might be friend or foe. Mason bears down on Theo, having the advantage of a running start to Theo's flat-footed one. He looks to be gathering himself for a tackle, much like the Sheriff's that brought him down.
Barron has his stance,a nd aims low. He's going to try to hit on of Mason's legs - a safe shot, since even if it misses - which is a chance even with his significant skill - it'll just hit dirt. The boom is loud in the not-so-quiet night, the forty five
caliber round exploding into action.
Theo hears the freight-train sound of Mason coming up behind him. Theo just drops -- almost
summersaults -- into a human wheel and the wheel rolls once or twice before Theo flops over onto his side, hands covering a hat which is tucked in against his knees in a clothed
rendition of the fetal position.
Theo remains there, but shudders, as the gunshot explodes so near.
Not really being able to tell when the shot was aimed, nor where it impacts. Jordan drops to one knee. This still allows him the mobility to throw, should he want to, but presents a much smaller target, if anything is aimed his way.
The shot hits, and this is read by the abrupt loss of balance in Mason, which in no way interrupts the kinetic energy that bowls him forward. It merely alters his course somewhat, so that the large man now has become aimed at Jordan, instead of Theo, and one of his legs doesn't work, so he's going down.
Barron curses as his shot sends his target barreling into someone else. "Run!" he shouts to Theo, his voice a sharp bark, and his movements sending him to the right to try to get a better angle.
A loud grunt and thud as the stumbling form of Mason hits the crouched Jordan. Then a yelp of pain as the knife meant for the fiddler cuts through the fabric of his pants and imbeds itself deeply into
Jordan's leg. A swishing motion of his own knife, not really knowing just what part of the human battering ram he's hitting, but sure to slice something.
There is some odd Karma in all of this; with Theo's having untied the thong on his pistol, the thing flipped out at some point during his roll and it's not there, not weighting down Theo's holster with that solid presence, as the youth uncurls at the Sheriff's shout, and Theo looks up to assess the situation. He nimbly regains his feet, a hand snapping up to shove his hat back and better his vision, then Theo darts, stumblingly, toward the nearest cover, which happens to be the Saloon.
Like a fury of movement bled down by friction, Mason is felled, but not fallen. He recoils from this new target, somehow knowing that it's not the kid he was after, and he
instinctively jerks his knife back, to regain control. But the slicing blade of the other man catches Mason by surprise and he recoils silently, the fleshy part of his shoulder numbing enough that his fist uncurls and his own bloodied knife drops to the ground as Mason flops away. He sees a brief moment of starry sky, feels now the strange numbing throb from his leg, and feels the proximity of someone else, so near, who already
effectively cut him. "Alright!" Mason manages, trying now to lift a knee and feeling the beginning edges of what is going to become tormenting pain, from his lower leg, "Alright! I give!" He surrenders to Jordan, him being the nearest in this endeavor. "I'm done."
Barron grunts and keeps his pistol up, "Roll onto your stomach,." he shouts, keeping a distance away. "Hands over yer head mister, and lay still 'less you want another plug in ya."
<OOC> Jordan says, "Hang on a sec... Mason's knife is imbedded in Jordan's leg... the swishing is okay to the
shoulder."
<OOC> Mason thought he'd be able to pull the knife out again, but if not, then that's cool too.
<OOC> Jordan says, "Pulling it out will make a big hole, but if you want to... sure. :)"
<OOC> Mason says, "Up to you. :) You're character. He could just have his hand go numb and he THINKS he pulled it out."
<OOC> Mason says, "After all, you cut him. Timing's everything. :)"
<OOC> Jordan nods.
Cursing words, yep, that's what's coming from between Jordan's lips. As he finally manages to mostly push Mason off of him, he clutches at the knife with is still sticking out of the large muscle in the front of his thigh. Maybe someone better cover the boy's ears, some of these terms aren't fit to be heard.
The streets of Maddock are nearly deserted at this late hour.
Scuttling behind a few more horses, tied there outside the saloon, Theo finally raises enough to take stock of the situation.
Obedient, at this point, Mason eases himself over with his one good arm. The other can't raise very high. He's bleeding badly from the leg wound and is getting
more agreeable and tractable by the minute.
On the saloon porch, Thierry walks over from the saloon.
Barron makes his way closer to Mason, once he sees he's on his stomach, hands over his head, as ordered. He keeps his pistol on him, walking from behind where Barron can't be seen, before he digs a leather thing from his jeans and holsters his pistols, drawing down Mason's wrists to tie them together tightly. "Stay still." he warns, kneeling so his knee is right below the wound to 'encourage' him.
Likely, the gunshot could be heard from inside the saloon. In the darkness of the square, a place probably not immediately investigated by most citizens, two figures lie
in a tangled heap, a few yards shy of the water barrel. The Sheriff approaches them. There's another figure, tall and slender and with a flat-brimmed hat, watching from behind some nearby horses.
Irving walks over from the east.
Irving has arrived.
Irving had been headed to the outhouse when she heard it. And she runs out and futties, to the edge of the square in the
blinding dark. She doesn't at all know where or why or what she intends on doing, but is driven to run after the shot.
With another long string of four lettered words, Jordan grasps the handle of the knife, which is sticking out of his thigh, and pulls. A lout grunt of obvious pain and he tosses it haphazardly away, covering the gaping hole in his leg with both of his hands now.
On the saloon porch, Thierry emerges from the Saloon at the sound of the gunshot to peer at the Square. Oh hell.
"Sheriff?" Theo's voice, a bit tight, but drawled in the Louisiana-low accent, "Shall I go fetch the doctor?" Theo proceeds, then, to come around the edge of the horses with every intention to approach.
With a grunt and hiss of pain between clenched teeth, Mason takes the weight of the Sheriff and gets that much easier to tie, if it'll get the Sheriff /off/ him again. He doesn't say anything; man's got some brains.
Barron grunts as he draws the bonds tight, and lays a hand on Mason's back, to keep him face down in the dirt. "Go git 'em," he rasps, clearing his throat from the dirt in his mouth. "And go git me some cloth. Hurry now." he encourages, glancing at Jordan, squinting to peer. "You git stuck or anythin' over theah, mister?' he asks. A soft aside to Mason, quiet enough that perhaps just the three - Mason, Theo and Jordan - hear also. "You twitch wrong you sonuvabitch and ah'll let ya bleed out right heah."
On the saloon porch, Thierry strides off towards the center of maddock.
Thierry strides over from the saloon to the northwest.
Thierry has arrived.
Thierry creaks his way down the stairs to regard the scene. He glances towards Theo, who's nearest to him. "Would you like to explain?" Yeah, he's a little- impatient.
"Mason --" Theo explains. "Sheriff. Ran after. --Ran after Mason." Theo's devolved to sentence fragments, "Tried to spook the horse, he tried to -- Sheriff shot him. Not sure about the other man. I need to get some cloth. Inside, maybe?" Theo readies to launch past Thierry into the saloon.
Jordan tries to roll over and push up to his feet. But for some strange reason, his body is just not cooperating. Blood oozes out between his fingers painting them red, but of course nobody can see that. What with him being in almost complete darkness, and rolling around on the ground. A his of air is sucked in between his teeth and he manages to stop cursing long enough to yell out to whoever can hear him, "Damn right I need a doctor... and bloody quick!!!"
"Just bedding down right here." Mason replies, into the dirt. He holds good and still.
As the gravity of the situation sets in, Irving looks practically horrified, a little revolted, even, on those outskirts. Mouth hanging slack and lip s curled over her teeth.
Barron calls to Jordan, 'Just sit there, we'll git ya help." He's kneeling on Mason's leg right below the wound, and his left hand is flat on his back, keeping him down. "Theo, Mr. Marcel, please. Go git some cloths for me, and a lantern so we kin see."
Thierry nods, "I see," he bobs his head to Theo. "Go. I'll help the Sheriff." And there can be an 'accidental' shooting if he's lucky.
Theo dives into the saloon, and there's a hubbub in there as the doors close. Theo's voice can be heard vaguely from within. Another young lad, newly arrived, has a horse in hand and he scurries up, takes a look at the situation and volunteers to ride out to fetch Doctor Kei. Another, his buddies, says he'll run to the boarding house to see if Caitlin is present.
As it happens, Theo's gun, which used to be Harry's gun, is laying in the dirt somewhere, out there in the square.
Mason really really isn't going anywhere. He can't walk anywhere and he can't ride anywhere, courtesy of Theo's having run his horse off. He's right there for the duration, until someone helps haul him off.
Thierry makes his way over to Barron as he inspects Mason, "Sheriff, you need some help with that? I'd be perfectly willing to help." He smiles blandly.
Jordan just tries his best to stem the flow of blood from the large knife wound with his hands, which, he's finding, aren't all that good in this situation.
Barron nods to the vague shape in the darkness, "There's a man over there," he nods to Jordan, "Think he got stuck or somethin', kin ya make sure he's okay? This sonuvabitch ain't goin' nowhere but hell."
Mason protests, quietly, "I didn't nab the kid, Sheriff. That was Wade and Burt and Harry. They just showed up with him, at my mine. Free labor, is all. I didn't do anything to him. Just a place for them to keep him. Weren't my idea." Mason's beginning to get worried at this point, and he's snorting enough dust that he's feeling like he's got a snoutfull of mud.
Oh that's so not fair. Still, Thierry makes his way over to where Jordan is. He squints through the darkness, stating the obvious, "Shouldn't have taken that out." Still, he dips his hand in his pocket, comes up with a handkerchief. "Here," he crouches down and ties it around Jordan's leg as tight as he can. "You got one?"
Irving does what she can only think to do, in a situation of such chaos. someone has to look after it,
after all. She kneels, now but a few paces away, and prays.
Barron digs into his pocket with his free hand and plucks out a handkerchief. He wads it
with one hand before shoving it down where Mason's wound is, keeping hard pressure on it to stop the bleeding. "You kin tell me all 'bout it after we git yer sorry ass sewed up." he growls. "If you ware'nt guilty, you wouldna run. Now shaddup and jes' lay there."
At this point Jordan can't recall if he has one or not, the large pool of coppery smelling substance underneath him tells of just how much damn blood he's lost. He grits his teeth, and without really thinking tries to get to his feet. Not a whole lot of luck doing that though, which gets another long string of unprintable words.
Thierry mutters, "Stay the hell down. I've been through this in the last week." He raises his voice, "Theo, Miss Kissinger, I need you over here."
Theo erupts from the saloon with a double handful of cloth, and a lantern-bearer or two, to boot. He clears the steps and stumbles once, then continues on toward the huddle in the middle of the square. "Here, Sheriff. Did someone head off to get the doctor, yet?" Theo's somewhat breathless, more than a little-wide-eyed, and he comes over and around to where Thierry is, crouching by Jordan. "Here -- Might help stop it. Damn," Theo intones, to add to Jordan's words, "That's a-lot of--" Then he cuts that off, merely offering a few pads of cloth to Jordan. Or Thierry. Irving is spotted, then, "Irving! Back at the room, can you get some of the cloth I use to wrap with?" Hopefully Irving will understand that, and she has no doubt seen the long sheets of foot-wide muslin that Theo has.
Mason then decides to just stay quite and try not to bleed to death. He's evidently been the
veteran of a few major wounds. He's very good at being still.
Grabbing at the cloth that's offered Jordan removes both hands and then replaces them with the cloth, pressing down over top of it. He still looks like he's pretty intent on getting to his feet though. Just catching a breath at the moment, hoping for a second wind.
Barron falls quiet then, just keeping pressure on Mason's wound and making sure the man doens't do anything silly like try to get up. A glance at Theo, and as the lantern bears arrive he lets up his hand to reveal the leg wound, peer at it. It's -not- a nice sight, a heavy forty five slug through the upper back leg. He uses his knife to cut free some of Mason's jean's cloth, using it to wrap around the leg wound in a bandage, along with just one cloth, motioning with a grunt for the rest to be brought to Thierry.
"Here -- Sir --" Theo mutters rather breathlessly at Jordan, "Sit down, or lay down or something. Pops has the right of it; he got shot twice, not so long ago. And I have every confidence that he's prolonged his recovering by being as stubborn as you're being. Sit down, so we can get this bandaged. And," Theo adds with a glance to the man's face, "Thank you."
Thierry mutters to Theo, "There's no need to go into that sort of detail. I'm coming along, just fine, thank you." Still, at the arrival of the cloth with Theo, he also presses it again that knife wound, perhaps a touch too hard. "You should stay down."
The clear latenight sky is teeming with stars.
Quietly, and finally, Mason slips into a faint.
Jordan makes a sound that almost sound like a growl as he gets a little more 'help' that he needed in the pressure department. Batting the other man's hands away he grits his teeth and rolls so he's half kneeling, the good leg taking the lion's share of his weight. He's keeping the pressure up though, and he can't help but let a grunt out as he drags the injured leg closer so he can make an attempt to stand.
Barron finishes his bandaging, and leans over Mason, lifting his head up. He seems satisfied, as he pats the man down for any more weapons, wrapping his knife in cloth and shoving it into his belt.
"Just /where/ is it that you think you're going to head off to in such a hurry?" Theo finally asks of Jordan, in puzzlement. "You want to go to the porch and sit down? Maybe lay down? I don't know that you should be hiking anywhere, or even riding, right now."
Thierry shrugs at Theo. "He's going to bleed to death if he keeps moving. I've seen it happen before. I may be stubborn, Theo, but I was never out and out stupid."
Ever been in a situation where you had an overwhelming urge to punch someone's lights out, but you just are in absolutely no shape to do it? With along low grunt this time, Jordan pushes up to his feet, or should I say foot, since the left leg is mostly just hanging there and not holding any weight. He wavers a bit, the ground moving under him, or at least that's what the dizzy feeling feels like. And then he just stands there for a minute, looking down at the pool of blood, and then over to the man that stabbed him.
Barron takes a bootknife, before he pats the man down one more time. The sheriff eyes Jord, before he eyes Mason and shifts to his feet, rolling back Mason's eyes to make sure he's out for real. "Wait fer the doctor, amigo." he tells Jordan. "Siddown, please.
Through clenched teeth Jordan manages to reply to the sheriff, "Just get me to...to the shop." That's kind of vague, just what 'shop' is he speaking of. There are more than just one or two in town.
A few days' practice at doing this enables Theo to be pretty slick about catching Jordan's arm and slipping under it, pulling the man's arm over his shoulder, while his own slides around Jordan's waist. "Hey, Mister," Theo murmurs quietly, "I agree with them, that you need to sit down, lay down, but if you're going to stand, I'm not sure that falling will help you much. I'll walk with you, while you bleed out, if you're not going to cooperate. Which shop?"
Jordan senses "Theo is very very very thin -- beanpole thin -- with just that wiry
strength that endurance brings."
Thierry shrugs at Jordan. Can't do much to help folks if they don't want help. Even in the face of a fatal wound.
Barron glances at Jordan and shakes his head. 'Thanks for the help," he tells the man, leaning down to grab Mason and lift him up with a grunt over his shoulders, sinking slightly under the weight. A fireman's carry. "Theo, lemme know where he works or lives so ah can thank 'em later. This sack'a manure is goin' into the tank." he says, making his way to the jail in slow steps.
Mason starts following Barron.
A toss of his now bare head in the direction south of the square, as his hat lays somewhere on the ground. Trying not to put too much weight on the slender youth, but seing as how no one else has offered to help, Jordan manages one hop-step in the direction he's indicated. The makeshift tourniquet applied by the gruff Thierry seems to have helped though, as the flow of blood has slowed to just an ooze.
<OOC> Barron says, "Wonderful RP you all! I gotta get to sleep. :>"
Barron unlocks the door that leads to Maddock Square Sheriff's Building Office.
"Yes sir." Theo responds to Barron, then eyes Thierry, "Pops, my fiddle is shoved under the porch, and my gun is around here somewhere, maybe near the water barrel. I'll be back, as soon as I can. I promise." And with that, Theo fully intends to assist this wounded man off to wherever it is he needs to go.
Barron makes his way up the porch to the sheriff's office, the dead weight making him sway and stagger slightly, even with his wiry strength it's still a hefty load of unconscious bad guy. He jingles his keys, opening the door to the office and stepping inside. From the grunting and sliding noises, he just drags Mason across the floor to the jail cell, laying down down and checking his bandage before locking the man up securely in the cell and waiting in his office for the doctor to arrive.
Barron strolls off towards sheriff's office.
Barron has left.
Mason follows Barron.
Mason has left.
Thierry offered to help, it's just that Jordan didn't like the sort of help he was offering. He nods though at Theo, "I'll grab it."
Theo returns, later, with a blood-stained leg and exhaustion painted across her features. Her hat's been corrected from its skew, and she stops only to make sure her violin case has been picked up. Then, back to the boarding house. This incident will initiate what was probably bound to happen: Theo begins suffering from wicked nightmares that launch her into terrified
wakefulness in the middle of the night, and which robs all kinds of sleep from her and, likely, those in her immediate vicinity.