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4.1 - Lonesome Dove Roleplay

User: lonesomedove_rp (posted by john_mills)
Date: 2006-09-18 11:38
Subject: 4.1
Security: Public
Title: Season Three: Episode 4.1: Risks and Rewards
Fandom: Lonesome Dove: The Outlaw Years
Pairings and players: Jane/Mosby/Lilly/Miranda/Mills/Call
Rating: R for violence
Summary: Survival is universal.
Authors: Jacki and Manda
Disclaimer: Language, violence, graphic killing, implied slash m/m.

The Kelly gang had been on the trail for a long time, planning this robbery. The adrenaline rush of the robbery was still strong in the dozen men, and they charged into the small passenger car quickly. Eight of them were through the front and back door, before any of them realized that there were men inside the car.

Mosby took in a deep breath, and sighted Eb Kelly with his pistol. "Now, boys...didn't your daddies ever talk to you about thinking with your manhood?" There was no mercy, there would be no chance for surrender. The Kellys' reputation for brutality would be their death warrant, because Mosby had no illusions that this was kill or be killed situation.

Mills fired from his Winchester, and Slim Kelly's brains exploded out the back of his head and all over Qi's delaine dress. The girl had the presence of mind to drop to the floor, as Mosby fired three shots into the chest of Ebner Kelly. The blood spurted from him, and gurgled up in his throat as he fell over one of the seats, then crashed down on top of the body of the dead prostitute.

Call's sawed off weapon found a target in the tallest of the men already in the train car, searing a gaping hole through his chest. The man dropped over the back door entry, blocking escape for the others out that way. Then Call turned his attention out the window, and picked off two of the stragglers who hadn't made it inside.

The acrid smoke from the guns mixed with the scent of the blood, as one by one, the men fell to bullets. One of them got off a good shot, hitting the youngest of the farmers in the upper chest, before Mosby took off the left side of the man's face with a close range shot. Lilly pulled a knife out of her vest, and sliced open the throat of the man nearest behind her. It was getting messy around there, with blood and bits of bone and brain matter all over the seats and the floor. Jane kicked out a boot, hitting one filthy cowboy in his knees, stunning him long enough so that he can't take aim, then Mills blasted him with a close range shotgun blast.

Four hours later, they were sitting outside on the grass, tending to the wound of the injured farmboy. All twelve of the Kelly boys were dead, either inside the car or outside on the grass. As the sheriff from Willow Creek pulled his palomino short, snorting and rearing, Mosby pulled his black hat on, and smiled broadly.

"Well, now, there, Sheriff. I'm Colonel Clay Mosby, and my men and I have secured the Kelly boys for you. We also have the Well's Fargo satchel. Of course, the bounty on those dozen boys is what? A hundred a piece for each of those men? And two hundred each for the Kelly brothers. I assume there will be a sizable rewards from Well's Fargo? We'll be needing a wagon and horses, so we can collect our money and be on our way."

Jane stood regally, her fine linen and lace handkerchief clutched in her gloved hand. She watched with a lift of an eyebrow and a tiny smile as Mosby told the backwater sheriff how things were going to be, like he controlled the whole word. She marveled at the ease he had, in directing the other man like an underling. A point of a finger, flick of his hand or a nod had those strange men moving to do Mosby's bidding.

Mills was checking on Qi, using his blue bandana kerchief to mop some of the blood and gore off her floral dress. The quiet man towered over the tiny girl, and it looked somehow comical, with him trying to help her clean the mess. Call was talking to the surviving quadroon and half breed women, gettin them a drink of water from one of the deputies. Lilly and Miranda were talking softly, off to the side, looking back at the group several times. Jane admired Lilly's courage in the fight, with grudging respect, but she didn't trust the girl. And Jane sensed that Miranda would be trouble, once back at Twyla's.

"Well, Miss Jane, it looks like there'll be a little money for all of us." John Mills had walked over to her side, while she was still eying the two whores in deep conversation. Dark hair and gold hair were too close together for Jane's comfort, and the scrunching up of her nose gave clue to her displeasure. Mills followed her gaze with his own, and smirked. Women. Just like a flour sack full of cats, fighting over nothing and everything. "Looks like you might have your pretty little hands full with those two harlots, Miss Jane. Maybe I should sell tickets and let you ladies fight it out in your unmentionables, in a ring. That'd be right entertaining, now wouldn't it?"

Jane turned to give Mills a frosty stare, her gaze unblinking. "Mr. Mills, you forget yourself."

"Listen, lady, I haven't forgotten myself. You're the one who's trying to forget something or someone. Your airs don't impress me." Mills leaned in next to her ear. "Tell me, did you climb to your position clawing your way, or did you get there on your back?"

His breath on her earlobe and neck made her shiver, but she turned her head away from him, to see Mosby watching with interest. With a turn of her long neck, she looked back at Mills, and had to resist the urge to slap that smart look off his face. Without a word, she walked away from him, straight over to Mosby. "Mr. Mosby, do try to keep your dogs on a rope or chain. I find him repulsive and crude."

"Yes, Miss Stuart. I must say I've frequently found John to be quite crude. It's one of his best qualities. Perhaps he needs discipline and training." Mosby's expression was bland, and quite deliberately so, but his eyes held something darker. The gaze between John and Mosby, across the grass, made Jane look back and forth at the two men, then walk away with a most unladylike huff of annoyance. Mosby just kept his eyes locked to John, while he lit one of his cigars. John inclined his head slightly, towards the empty livestock car. Most everyone was milling around, or resting in the tall grass, waiting for the wagons to arrive from town for bodies and for transport.

Mosby lifted his head slightly, and then strode into the car, unseen by anyone but Newt Call. Call also watched as John followed a few seconds later, and the door slid shut. He wasn't standing guard, outside the car. Call just stood outside the cattle car because it was a shady spot. The faint noises within didn't bother him at all. Not one little bit.
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September 2006