Oregonal Sin

His arm still hurt.

Of course it still fucking hurt, it had only been two days since it had had an arrow lodged in the muscle, but his arm, and his ego, still hurt. It was a good thing he could draw just as fast and precisely with either hand, but being only able to correctly draw one gun out of the two slung at his hips was not to Charlie Edwards' liking. At all.

And his arm still fucking hurt. Fucking Indians getting into his business. He'd just gone back, just in case they'd left anything, but the body of his wanted fugitive must have washed down the river. Fucking Indians. Charlie dismounted, tied his horse's tether in front of the saloon, and walked in to have a drink or ten. He was doing his best to hide the fact that his right arm was, for the time being, shot to hell, but he wouldn't be surprised if the rumor had spread anyway. He didn't figure the doc would've said anything, but many a town folk had seen him ride into town with blood seeping down his arm, two days past.

Fucking Indians.

He settled at the counter, waiting for the bartender to have a second to pour him a glass. And not very patiently, at that, although it didn't show much, just in the set of his brow, mostly hidden under his hat.

Ten days after the flood, John was still in the boarding house and still very much not going anywhere, any time soon.

The cut on his face had healed and the bruises there had faded significantly. The ribs were still painful as hell, but as long as he kept them wrapped and was careful he could deal. Even the nasty break to his collarbone, as long as he kept his arm in a sling, didn't result in more pain than he could ignore.

The headache, nausea and dizziness, on the other hand, were rapidly making his life really miserable, and the alternating hot and cold flashes weren't helping him love the world, either. Actually, the fever was starting to make him wonder just how much longer he was going to be in the world.

He did manage to get downstairs, outside and onto the porch. Not that he'd be there for long or he didn't look like shit, but he wanted fresh air, dammit. What he wanted more, honestly, was just to see people and not be locked up in an upstairs room away from it all.

Even if he wasn't loving the world, he wanted to be part of it.

Charlie watched them walk away with an inward satisfied smile. Thank you for the coin, boys, he thought, and put away the deck of cards. Poker was such an amusing way to make money.

He used his foot to push out a chair on the other side of the table when someone walked by. "Take a seat, I'm buyin'."

A normal evening at the Saloon, if a little quiet after the holidays. Jessy was making a circuit of the Saloon until she saw a friendly-looking face. "Buy a girl a drink?" she asked, expression warm and welcoming.

The Blackwood House opened its doors -- though not literally, considering the cold -- to everyone Christmas eve. It was a tradition her father and mother had started the second year they'd been in town and something Liz looked forward to every year.

All the rooms and parlors were open except the guests' private sleeping areas and the kitchen. Even the garden had been cleared and swept, benches free of snow for the moment, if guests wanted a bit of fresh air or someplace more private to talk.

The house was decorated to the hilt with greens, candles, berries, and a large tree in main dining room. That room also featured a buffet spread with food and treats that Liz had been working on for weeks. The pianoforte had been moved into the main parlor and every guest was encouraged to take a turn if they wished.

In one of the smaller parlors there was a table with small gifts for each guest -- they could pick at random or have Liz's father, who presided over the room, suggest one for them. Her brother and sister-in-law had claimed the main parlor to hold audience while Liz herself floated quietly from room to room, making sure everyone had a good time and a full plate.

Charlie rode back into town with a considerably fatter purse than he'd left it with. Perfectly timed trail that had been, to get out of town when the 'fluenza hit, and a nice bounty to collect at the end, which wasn't exactly negligible.

It had even given him some trouble, which was always a pleasant surprise.

He stopped in front of the boarding house, but did not dismount, rather turning to the person closest to him. "Howdy. 'Fluenza still wreaking havoc in town?"

Saving the boy had gotten Charlie good and bad press both. And both enough that he'd skipped town for a few days, on the trail of a bounty that was barely worth his attention. Then again, girl had barely been worth his attention, too, but girl had been government money, at least. This bounty was private funds, and he'd only taken it as a distraction.

Least Kane wasn't after him for killing one of the three brutes. Small favors.

He rode back into town and got off his horse to find someone staring at him. Dismounted, grabbed his saddlebags and looked straight at the person in question. "Somethin' the matter?"

Note - please please make sure you've read all threads and checked on character locations and what you can find out from the 'crowd' before posting a thread or tag, so we can keep everyone in one place at one time without cloning! Thank you! Ryan and Beth have now gone from the scene but please feel free to keep on playing threads set before then or reactions after.

It had been a bad idea. Beth had known it was a bad idea, felt it, but the preacher had been so insistent and Gemma had just shrugged and said it wasn't her business what the girls did with their time off and Ryan had said he'd go with her, so Beth had gone to the church pot luck. And it had been a bad idea.

( And now )

Charlie was sitting on the front steps of the boarding house he was lodging at, sharpening his knife with a stone and wondering which bounty to go after now. The girl had been easy money, but not enough money by far.

A shadow fell over him, obstructing the sun, and he looked up from his knife, squinting against the sun. "Howdy."

His opponents had been just as new in town as he'd been, and probably a lot newer to cards. Nice little sum of money he'd just come into, and the game hadn't even been that stimulating.

They grumbled at their loss as he left the table, headed for the bar, and sat himself down on a stool by the counter.

"Shot of whiskey," he called out to the bartender, eyeing the person next to him. "Make that two."

He was in the mood for some company, no matter what kind.

Opening time on another day. Didn't make much odds if it was a weekday or a Sunday, save some of the girls started shifts late on Sundays but this one was a weekday. Heavy bars lifted away from the doors to let people in, Jax behind the bar, Gemma's girls ready and willing for company or custom. Or both.

Open for business.