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Tweak says, "Where'd I leave my head?"

Grace Sackett (rope_and_ride) wrote in oldwest_rpg,
@ 2008-07-04 19:25:00

Entry tags:

dax marshall, grace sackett

Who: Grace and Dax
When: Thursday, July 4, 1867 - early evening
Where: Just outside of town - Independence Day Celebration
Status: Incomplete

Grace tied the reins of her mount to the low hanging branch of a tree before heading in the direction of the main gathering of townsfolk. Tents and tables had been set up just at the outskirts of town for the celebrating of the day of independence.

The ranch had pretty much closed down for the evening so the hired hands could join in on the celebrating. And Grace wasn't allowing herself to be excluded from the holiday and the night-time festivities. She wasn't much on the socializing bit, but she'd tolerate it up until the display of fireworks ended. To her that was the highlight of the days festivities.

"Well, well. Ain't you a pretty little thing." Grace glanced up at the sound of the male voice to find her path blocked by a man a good couple inches taller then her, and judging by the heavy smell of alcohol on his breath had started his celebrating a mite too early.

"Excuse me." Grace said stalely as she made the move to step around and past the man.

"Well, that ain't being anywhere near friendly." The man's voice taking a sour tone from behind her as Grace felt a rough, restraining grip on her arm that prevented the blonde from continuing her path toward the congregation of people and tables of food and drink. "Here I'm trying to be sociable and you're going to return the nicety with rudeness." The man added roughly when he gave a hard tug on her arm that spun her around to a face to face.

It was almost second nature to her, and without really any thought given to her actions Grace had, with her free hand, removed her revolver from its holster and aimed directly at the offending man's forehead in the short second after the man quite forcibly spun her around on her heels to face him. "I think you've done enough celebrating for one day, Mister. Best you go sleep it off." The expression on her face told to man that she was in no way going to be lenient on her statement in even the slightest of ways.

It wasn't until the man was staggering off in a direction away from the blonde, with a grumbled slurring of profanity streaming from his lips, that Grace re-holstered her weapon and continued on toward the gathering crowd of people and the tables ladened with food.

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syxx
2008-07-05 04:41 am UTC (link)

The 4th of July. A day commemorating the adoption of the Declaration of Independence in the year of 1776, declaring independence from the Kingdom of Great Britain. Yes, it did sound all fine and dandy that the United States had been independent for 91 years, but for Dax it was just a day of busy body crowds full of drunks and outlandish weirdos.

Dax wasn't downing the holiday, only wishing that people would celebrate it inside of their homes. Today he would have to get used to the large amounts of people if he didn't want to be the one stuck inside to get away from them. One false move towards he, woman or child from anyone, and he'd be on them like flies on shit. He found that today he was going to be more of a guard rather than a patriotic celebrator.

The streets weren't as crowded as he'd expected, but it still was light out. Half of them he could tell were already intoxicated, but not all seemed to be threatening; yet. He tried to keep to one far side of the road, but wasn't able to climb behind the set-ups and tents considering there were people there, too. He huffed loudly, fiddling with his jacket for a cigarette. Unfortunately for him he did not wear his rifle today. Instead he was armed with a large knife. Muscle alone would be enough this day against a drunken bastard, but if he needed, he would not hesitate to use the blade.

As he walked past the people on the roads, he could see from the corner of his eye Miss Grace Sackett - the rancher. He stopped in his tracks, watching her as well as the man who so ignorantly laid his hand on her. Judging by her gun now pressed against his forehead, Dax could see that this touch was not something she asked for.

Moments later, the man turned, cursing and spitting at the fact that he didn't have a chance in hell on getting laid (from her, at least) tonight. Mere seconds after that, Dax cut in, stopping the drunkard and grasping him by the scruff of the neck. He would have killed him on the spot, but there were way too many witnesses around. Instead, he led the man to the nearest tents, settled him between the two, and threatened him with the blade of his knife.

"If I e'er see y'touch a woman like that again, I'll find y', an' I'll kill you," he said, pressing the blade further against his skin before letting him go. The man stared, wide-eyed, then sauntered off without a word.

From the tents, Dax emerged and without hesitation, found where Grace had walked off to, but kept his distance.

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rope_and_ride
2008-07-05 02:47 pm UTC (link)

Grace was oblivious to the fact that Dax was anywhere in the vicinity, much less that he was now keeping on eye on her. Giving a nod here and there, with an occasional greeting to the very few she knew, Grace continued her path to the tables of food. Famished she was. The rancher hadn't had had anything that came close to fulfilling for breakfast that morning, a single mug of coffee didn't quite fit that bill, and a mid day meal had been completely bypassed. So with her lacking majorly in the cooking department, if Grace wanted to stave off her hunger the only place to do so was at the food ladened tables that had been set up by a few of the townfolk.

After piling quite a few samplings of what some of the town women had cooked up, and securing something to drink, Grace made a reverse trek back to the tree she had tied Rogue to. It was a comfortable distance away from the main crowd of people, but close enough where Grace would be able to see the display of fireworks without her view being obstructed.