At Points North,
A Larger Threat
December 29, 1873
 

December 29th, 1873 [Pete] An ordinary man at first glance, not someone who anyone would pay much mind to. His clothes are tattered but clean, having seen a better day likely many years ago. The tans and off-colored whites end against sun weathered skin and a mop of sandy brown curls that haven't seen a true barber since his clothes left the general store shelf. His duster is trimmed with fur, the frayed hairs slipping out from beneath the sleeves and collar. A closer examination reveals a man who doesn't want to be noticed. Hunched shoulders hide this man's true height and deep blue intelligent eyes peer out from beneath his unkempt hair. A gunbelt can be glimpsed as his duster opens, a pair of Colt 45s adorning each hip. [Josh] Though only in his mid-twenties, Joshua McCormick has a weathered, rough look that makes him appear much older. His dark brown hair comes to just above his collar, and he invariably seems to sport a five o'clock shadow. Bright blue eyes peer out from beneath unkempt bangs, though Josh's expression seems to be set in a perpetual scowl. Josh's clothes have seen better days. His pants are a medium brown in color, the knees well-worn and the cuffs tucked into calf-high leather boots. His shirt appears to have been white at some point, though now it's more of a light beige. Thrown loosely over the shirt is a dark vest, and when outdoors Josh wears a warm, heavy gray overcoat and gloves. Hanging at Josh's hip is a plain, functional holster. Nothing fancy, but more than enough to hold his equally functional Colt revolver. Pete appears in the mine shaft, dropping his load of dead wood beside the small fire. "Cletus or the others back yet?" Josh lounges against one of the mine walls, stretched out along the floor. He jumps in startlement as Pete arrives, his hand immediately going for his gun, but relaxes when he sees who it is. "Naw," he replies in his Southern drawl, "They ain't here." Pete eyes Josh's reclined position then makes a small note of the size of the wood pile, as if judging the man's contribution to it. He steps closer to the small circle of flame, the only concession he would allow lest they all suffocate. "Weather doesn't look like it is letting up none." Likely we will freeze before we suffocate. Josh scowls, drawing his jacket tighter around himself, "Too damn cold out here," he mumbles, sliding along the ground over to the woodpile to grab another few twigs to toss onto the fire in a vain attempt to offset the temperature. A woodpile Josh hasn't contributed much to at all. What he wouldn't give for a nice Alabama winter. Pete rewards Josh with a scowl for the spray of sparks that dance across the hem of Pete's duster. He brushes them away quickly before moving to take stock of the supplies. He casts an impatient glance towards the opening. "What on this earth could be taking them so long?" Josh shrugs expressively at Pete's question, resuming his slouched posture against the wall after depositing the log on the fire. "Dunno. Not my day to keep track of 'em," he remarks dryly, offering no apology or even acknowledgement for the other man's scowl. Cletus ambles in from out there somewhere. Nature calls for Cletus, too. He's humming a little -- more of his maddening little noises. [Cletus] Cletus Booker is a kinda short, slightly pudgy man with wild, childlike eyes. He's basically nondescript in appearance, worn and scruffy, well-traveled -- nondescript except for a puckered round scar on his forehead, near the left temple. He's prone to make noises of various kinds -- humming, whistling, giggling, gobbledygook. Pete turns at the sound near the opening, looking more then a little annoyed and relieved to see Cletus. "Dammit Cletus, I told you not to take too long collecting firewood." He scowls at the three twigs in his hand, "Is that all you could find?" Cletus looks down at the twigs. Firewood? Oh, firewood! Drat, darn, etc. Wait a minute... "Firewood?" Pete sighs, indicating the meager pile by the fire. "Just throw them there." A pointed look towards Josh, "Along with his contribution." Shaking his head in disgust, Pete resumes his inventory. Josh gives a passing glance to the new arrival, registering Cletus' arrival. He pulls his revolver slowly from his holster, checking over it for lack of anything else to occupy his attention at the moment. At Pete's remark Josh looks up with a scowl, but refrains from comment. Cletus twists his mouth, mumbling -- he doesn't remember anything about firewood -- and tosses the twigs. Mumble mumble mumble... He walks over to his usual seat by the fire, and picks up his well-worn deck of cards. Pete's jaw twitches at the soft click of the revolver as Josh checks the barrel. Surely a man can go nuts living in a dark cave with none but this crew about. A woman. A soft warm bed. Both at the same time. He growls and closes the satchel. "We are running low on beans." Cletus starts flipping the cards over, one by one, bobbing his head a little. He won't go nuts. He really doesn't notice all that much... Josh shakes his head in disgust, "How long we gonna stay up in this damn cave? Runnin' low on firewood.. low on supplies.." Josh is not a happy camper, and this is a /good/ day for him. Of course, he's already mostly nuts, so the crew in the cave doesn't have that much of an additional effect. But the cold, that bugs him. Pete ignores Josh, it's either that or shove the revolver down the man's throat. "Hey Cletus, was pa behind you?" Cletus shakes his head, still watching the cards. "No, he's still out there." Somewhere. Looking for firewood, or beans, or a town, or something. Josh mumbles something to himself as he's ignored, and continues to clean his gun unhappily. He casts a sidelong glance at Cletus' comment. Pete kicks a shower of rocks and sand into the fire as if to let off a little steam of his own. Tired of fidgetting and not about to check the supplies for the fourth time this hour, he sits. "This is rediculous." He even laughs to punctuate it. "We can't stay up here till we freeze to death." Or starve. Or kill each other... Josh smirks, "Well, ain't that what I just *said*?" Well, no not exactly.. but it was what he was thinking, and Josh is never hesitant to take credit for a good idea. Or try anyway. He has so few of his own. Cletus shakes his head again. "We won't freeze to death." Not confidently... it's just a fact. "I say when Booker gets back we pack up the supplies and head into that town at the bottom of the valley. Ain't likely we are going to get taken in a little hole like that." Booker is only 'pa' to Cletus, since Cletus can't seem to recall _who_ Booker is. Josh nods slightly, "Sure as hell gotta be warmer down there," Josh remarks sullenly. Forget about the law. Josh has odd priorities sometimes. Cletus nods. "Town would be nice...." Flip flip flip the cards. Pete hisses towards Cletus, "Do you mind?" He looks to the cards then sighs. "Well, if some of us hadn't decided on going to Dakota to get firewood then maybe we could have started out for town tonight." Josh shakes his head, and smirks, "We should just go, let them catch up." Josh's ideas of group coherency are not exactly the best. Cletus bites his lower lip, to keep from making any of the noises everyone says he makes, and goes back to flipping cards. His answer is a harsh denial, "No. We ain't heading out without the others, we may need them once we get into town." Josh's only response at first is silence, except for the continuing clicking as he cleans his pistol. Then finally he grumbles, "Fine. I just hope they get their tails back here sometime this /year/." Cards, Revolvers, the hiss of the green wood within the fire. Enough to make a saner man jump from the nearest cliff. His jaw ticking away at the monotony of noise, Pete springs upwards from his crouch. "I'll go find them." Go to be anywhere but here. Josh nods once, "Good idea." Especially since it doesn't involve Josh having to venture out into the cold. He finishes up his revolver, and slides the weapon back into his holster. Pete points at Cletus. "Stay." Cletus looks up with a blink, but stays, like a good dog. Josh stifles a chuckle at the way Pete orders Cletus around. Then glances around the cave, trying to find something else to occupy his attention. Seeing nothing, he shoves his gloved hands into his pockets, attempting to keep them warm. Pete storms into the darkness cursing a blue streak about how he wanted to head south, but noo....