The Santayana Effect: Scene 4- Oklahoma, 1890

[x-adrienne.livejournal.com]

What had happened to Morgan had shaken Adrienne, and it took her several moments to focus on the new scene that blossomed around her. She noticed the sun first, its brightness after the dank dreariness of the French forest and the mud of the battlefield projecting instant cheeriness. Piano music was coming from nearby, possibly across the street. She could smell paint, and guessed she was seeing the inside of a newly whitewashed building, judging from the rough wooden construction of the place. Two wooden desks were crammed into a small space, across the room from a barred, empty cell. Wanted posters that had been drawn by hand had been placed in the windows, and Adrienne was surprised to see that they were each stamped with the Hellfire Club's coat of arms. It appeared as if the local jail was using the seal as a show of their authority.

Adjusting her perspective, Adrienne focused on the imposing-looking man in a cowboy hat and dust-covered clothing bent over the desk, writing. When he straightened up to reach for the seal at the edge of the desk, she did a double take at the image of Logan wearing a mottled gold Sheriff's badge. Why the hell was she seeing Logan everywhere?

"Jim, telegram came for you." A lanky, bare-headed blond man who looked just like Kyle Gibney came
into the room and tossed an envelope onto the Sheriff's desk before
settling down in the other chair and kicking his bare feet up onto the
desk. "Wouldn't have signed for it, but they said it was urgent and I
reckon the fella was a bit put off at the idea of talking to you face
to face. Seemed kinda nervous."

"I'm not surprised." Jim said, grabbing the seal and stamping the letter he was just writing. "Whole lot of dangerous cocksuckers make their way here, looking to find that one big score." he said sourly. And he was the most dangerous of all those dangerous cocksuckers. Only difference was that he got to wear a badge.

Least he had the kid to give him a hand and to watch his back. Made his job a lot easier.

"Fuck me." he said as he read the telegram. "Kid, make sure you got your guns handy. Looks like El Tigre's blowing into town." he said. "This time there's no way that hooplehead's gettin' away from me. Not this time." he vowed.

The blond spat, without leaving his chair. "We got an warrant for
that son of a bitch, or you just gonna go kill him anyway?" Not like
he'd complain or even turn Jim in, but it'd be good to know ahead of
time. "How much time we got?" It couldn't be much, not if they'd gone
to the trouble of sending a telegram instead of a letter, and not if
there wasn't a real honest to God paper warrant.

"Warrant'd be nice, but I happen to know personal that cocksucker's a murderin' bastard. He gives me the chance he's goin' in the ground." he said. "And we got a few days yet. Should be comin' in by rail, so figger - tomorrow? Day after, maybe?" he said. "Still owe him for Fox." he muttered to himself as he sealed his letter so he could send it out with the mail tomorrow.

"Look, Kyle." he said. Except Adrienne noticed that when he said Kyle, his lips didn't move to make the proper syllable. It was like a dubbed film, she pondered. What was the significance of that? "This one's dangerous. Probably the most dangerous man this side of New York City." he said. "Killin', rapin', thievin', you name it, he's done it." he said. "We keep an eye on him but if he keeps his nose clean we just get him out of town soon as we can. He crosses the line, he goes down." he said. "Understand?"

"Yep." Kyle drawled, and kicked at the hat on his desk with one foot.
It landed on his hand, and he spun it lazily. "So, what you're saying
is when he crosses the line, you'll put 'im down like the dog he is,
but don't taunt him none because he'll fuck me up." He could read
between the lines, it wasn't hard. "Figure if he's as bad as you say,
not much is gonna stop him from trying to start shit."

"There's been entire tribes of folks who never learned that lesson, kid." he said with a heavy sigh. "Him startin' shit's about as guaranteed as the sun comin' up in the mornin'." he pointed out. "Fuck, I hate this." he grumbled as his climbed to his feet, tucking the stamp into a vest pocket. "Gonna be a busy couple of days, kid. Get youself some pussy, drink yourself stupid, get some sleep." he said. "May not get another chance soon." he added ominously.

The Eagle Saloon might not have been the fanciest place, but it was the best saloon in town to drink at. Miss Amara ran a tight ship, and even if the alcohol wasn't always top-shelf, the glasses were clean and she always greeted her customers with a smile. Today was no exception, and she had a bright smile for the shireff and his deputy when they arrived, blonde curls spilling over one shoulder as she wore her trademark scarlet red dress.

"Sheriff Logan, Deputy Joe," she said, nodding to the pair. And this time, when the Amara clone said 'Logan' her lips didn't match the sound, but when she said 'Joe' they did. So Kyle was supposed to be Joe, and Logan was supposed to be Jim? But why? "Just the usual?"

"Double it, darlin'." he said in a friendly way, grinning at Miss Amara. Lovely-lookin' bit of skirt, she was. Unfortunately for him, a family from out-of-town was having a bit of a domenstic spat in one of the rooms above, loud enough to be heard clear across town.

"But Mummy, I ... *ACHOO!* don't want to ... *ACHOO!* go!"

"Rose, be a dear and get the full stack of linens? It's going to be a long day."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What's going on here? Why is James not dressed yet?" said an angry voice. Male. Deep. British accent, only not.

"Daddy, I... *ACHOO!*

A sigh. "James, my son, you will be dressed and ready to be presented in the next five minutes or I shall have to discipline you."

"Yes, father."

Logan just rolled his eyes. "New arrivals?" he asked Amara.

Amara nodded as she poured the drinks, taking a moment to glance up towards the noise.

"Just got here from Canada. The poor little boy's sickly, it seems. I don't think he's stopped sneezing."

She placed the glasses in front of the two men, smiling once more at them both. "It's on the house, boys."

"You sure I can't make a' honest woman outta you?" Kyle drawled. Not
that he was serious, he didn't want to tie himself down, but Miss
Amara was as close to perfect as he considered a lady. He drained
the glass, and set it back down. "You know when they're due to clear
out? We... might have trouble comin'."

"No might about it." Logan clarified. "The Devil's comin' to town, darlin'. Can't ask you to close up the bar but you may want to tuck away anything you don't want broken." he said, with a significant look towards the girls Amara had waiting tables."Fixin' to get pretty ugly."

Amara just winked in reply to Kyle, more than used to proposals from him and half the men in town. "They're just passing through, they shouldn't be here for too long." She smiled a little grimly, the pistol she kept on her at all times appearing from out of the ruffles of her dress and being placed on the bar. "Don't worry, sheriff. I can take care of me and my girls, if it comes down to that."

"I like to think so, darlin', but El Tigre's not one to be messin' with. Kill ya as soon as look at ya." he pointed out. Down the stairs tromped the family of Canadians, looking very proper in their suits and dresses. Little boy sort-of ruined by with his sneezing, flaming red nose, and general sullen demeanor.

"Pretty much wanted coast to coast for pretty much everything a guy
can be wanted for." Kyle said with a shrug. "I'd rather not see you
or none of your girls get, you know... hurt." Funny how 'hurt'
could have so many means. "But keep that thing handy just in case."

* * *

If there was one thing El Tigre hated, it was being cramped into a tiny-ass railroad car for what seemed like for-fuckin-ever. But the train had finally stopped in Oklaholma Territory and he was fixin' to get out. Take a more natural way of gettin' somewhere. He shoved his bulk out of the car and stretched, nearly knocking a hat off a fancy lady waiting patiently to board the train. The fancy lady made a disgusted sort of 'harrumph' noise, which Adrienne was mentally echoing, and then some. What the hell was Victor Creed, or Sabretooth as she'd heard him called, doing here?

He leered at them as they got on the train - wife, husband, two kids. One was apparently sick or something - he looked miserable, smelled worse, and had his face crusted with trail dust and snot. Putting them out of his head, he picked up his bag and followed his nose to a nearby hostlery.

"Kin I help ya?" said the hostler, a presumably-freed black man from somewhere far, far away from Oklaholma.

"I need a horse." he said patiently. "Good one. Don't gimme no nag." he growled.

"Yessuh." said the hostler, who disappeared back into the barn to presumably go get a good horse. El Tigre followed him, a small smile on his broad features. Once they were both inside, he lashed out with the claws that gave him his name, spilling the man's guts all over the hay.

Adrienne recoiled from the image, blinking hard. When she focused on Sabretooth again, he was holding knives rather than using his claws. This was getting weirder and weirder.

"Stupid n-----." he said with a snort, wiping the blood on his hands off on the dead man's clothes. But now he could take what he wanted, which is usually what he did anyway. The man did have some nice beasts, he had to admit. He saddled one quickly and efficiently and was riding off at a gallop before the flies had even stopped to settle on the man's corpse.

Deputy Kyle was obviously about as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a
room full of rocking chairs when he entered the small office he shared
with the Sheriff. "Got good news, bad news, and total shit news.
Which one you want first?"

He didn't wait for much of an answer, besides a grunt of
acknowledgement before explaining. "Mail's in. Train must've been on
time for a change." He tossed the twine-wrapped stack of envelopes
onto the Sheriff's desk. "Also caught wind of a killin'. Betcha a
beer and a lay it's El Tigre. Somebody cut up Old Man Derry pretty
bad, wasn't much left of 'em when one of his boys found him." He
shrugged. "Vultures. Fucking birds."

"That'll be him." Logan said with a sigh. "Saddle up, kid. He'll want a hot meal, whiskey, and probably a woman, so we'll meet him up at Amara's." he said with a heavy sigh. "We get lucky, we'll keep him from killin' anyone before we can shoo him on up out of town." he said quietly. "And kid? You do good work." he said before reaching for his guns and his knives.

Logan loved him his knives. As shiny as silver, sharper than a serpent's tooth, and perfectly made for his hand. He carried a full half-dozen of them, but he was best with three in each hand. An odd style of combat, or so he'd been told by many men who now populated more than a few graveyards between here and Canada.

"Just once I want someone you say is a cocksucker to actually be one,
just so we don't have problems with 'em thinking every woman in town's
a whore." Kyle said, adjusting his gunbelt so he could reach it all
the faster. Half their job was breaking up bar fights. Or ending bar
fights, it worked out the same in the end, and ending them was sure as
shit more fun than breaking them up. It was a stupid - or very drunk -
man who got in the way of Jim or Kyle's fists more than once.

Even so, this wasn't a fight he was looking forward to, and he was
praying - for all that he wasn't much of a praying man - that El Tigre
would just pass through with as little murderin' as possible.

Their guess had been correct - El Tigre had gone straight to Amara's, and already the situation was tense. She'd already sent the girls upstairs, threatening to beat anyone of them that came downstairs. None of them believed her, but they were all too scared to come down when they heard him arrive. Amara served him herself, chin high and her best icy demeanour as she brought him the drinks he'd demanded. She was now suffering the indignity of being forced to sit in his lap, and her hand was itching to go for the gun hidden in the folds of her dress. But he hadn't done anything other than be crude and paw her a little, so she waited for the sheriff and his deputy to show before she caused a situation. She had utter faith that would, and all she and her terrified patrons needed to do was wait.


"Tigre." Logan said as he walked in the door, guns on his hips and knives ready to go. He sat himself down at the man's table, avoiding looking directly at Amara, and snatched the other man's bottle of whiskey and guzzling himself a swallow. "Got a lot of nerve showin' your face in his town." he said firmly.

Deputy Kyle was sneaking around the back of the saloon and - well,
there wasn't a back door, not exactly. It was just he'd had to bust
out of there more than once when some fancypants city boy came in
looking for whatever women Kyle'd decided to go after that just
happened to maybe be that guy's woman. It wasn't his fault he kept
ending up with the ladies who were already married! So he knew all
about the loose planks in the back wall and how someone kept making
them loose even after they got fixed.

And that was the best way to get as many people the hell out of the
saloon that they could before Jim took to throwing down with El Tigre.
Because there was no way a fight wasn't happening.

It was hard to tell, but on Logan's apperance, Amara had relaxed ever so slightly. Not completely, as she was still the captive of a very, very scary man. But his presence was a distraction, enough of one that Amara could start inching her hand towards her pistol, all the while trying not to alert El Tigre as to her actions.

Tigre barked out a laugh and snatched his bottle back, taking a hefty swallow. "Tryin' to run me out of town already, runt?" he asked, showing an impressive array of yellowed teeth. "Guy can't come into town, get a little something to ease the strain of a long journey?' he asked rhetorically. "You're breaking my heart, pup." he said. "Got this fine-lookin' piece right here." he said, bouncing Amara on his knee just a little. "And if she things that pretty little Colt is gonna do anything but piss me off, she's got another thing comin'." he promised with a leer.

Amara froze at that, her hand mere inches from her pistol. Her fingers dug into the ruffles as she did her very best not to rake her nails across El Tigre's face. Instead, she stayed silent, refusing to dignify his words with an answer, impotent fury in her gaze as she looked at Logan. She'd delt with her fair share of assholes in her time, and manhandled more times than she'd care to remember, but legitimate psychopaths? They didn't come along so frequently. And she valued her skin more than she did her pride.

The last of the girls was out, and even when a few of them had said
they'd certainly make it up to him later for getting them somewhere
safe, that somewhere safe was the Reverend's house, and they were
mostly none too happy about that. The girls and the Reverend's wife.
Deputy Kyle slipped his boots off before creeping back into the saloon
through the loose plank. Better to not make a sound and he'd never
gotten the hang of moving silent-like with shoes on. It was just
easier to creep around if you were barefoot, that's how the injuns did
it, or so he was told, and so that's how he was gonna do it.

Tigre cocked his head and then turned to look at Kyle. "What's this?" he asked, then turned back to Logan. "You sendin' _boys_ now to do a man's job? Is that how you work now, Logan? Yer woman couldn't get it done, so now you got yerself a catamite to handle things for ya?" he asked with a lazy grin that showed far too many teeth. "Always knew you were yellow." he said, low and dangerous.

He opened his mouth to keep heaping insults, but instead got a mouth full of knuckles for his troubles. Logan had had enough of Tigre's fat disrespectful mouth. With his other hand he ripped Miss Amara off his lap, not sparing one thought for her dignity or the preservation of her frock. And just like that, it was _on_.

I don't even know what that -is-." Kyle spat. 'And I'm twenty this
spring!" Not that either man cared to hear him, they were too busy
pounding the tar out of each other and from what he could tell, Jim
wasn't winning. Sometimes Jim came out of those kinds of fights with
the other man worse off, and sometimes he didn't, and either way they
went on for sure as near forever. And it'd have been a shame to bust
up Miss Amara's nice saloon all over the place.

So he did just what he was good at. Came up from behind and elbowed
El Tigre in the gut. He was spared one brief glance, long enough for
Kyle to call the huge man a goddamn cocksucker, and then he was thrown
through a table. Which was okay, he'd done that plenty of times.
Tables were easily fixed.

Amara had never been more relieved to be tossed on her ass - sure, both it and her pride were a little hurt, but at least she was out of El Tigre's clutches now. It had taken her a few moments to recover, and then she'd quickly gone for the pistol hidden in the ruffles of her dress, on high alert as she watched the fight between the sheriff and the psychopath.

Kyle's interuption had given her a chance - now that Logan was disengaged, she took a shot at El Tigre, the shot meant from somewhere near where his heart should have been ending up hitting somewhere below the belt.

Tigre was just starting to get the upper hand - he had the sheriff flat on the floor with a lucky combination when Miss Amara's bullet slammed into his back, throwing him off of Logan to crash into a set of tables noisily. The tables snapped, but Tigre didn't budge. Logan, on the other hand, flipped up to his feet and approached the bigger man's prone form.

"Nice shootin', girl." he said, but only after delivering a vicious kick to Tigre's ribs. "He ain't much longer left for this world." he said. "Call the Chinaman, get this piece of shit taken out of here?" he suggested.

Adrienne pushed ahead on the timeline, beginning to grow a little queasy from whatever was going on behind the scenes, since these clearly weren't the images she was supposed to be seeing. She saw the man who looked like Logan marry, have a child Logan called 'son', except it was Morgan- Vanessa, she corrected herself- as Adrienne had seen her from reading things from her childhood.

The seal was given to the Morgan figure, dressed in the soldier's uniform Adrienne knew he would die in. She didn't push any further forward.

Instead, she moved backward, to watch a girl who looked like Dori giving the seal to a pawn shop, where the Sheriff she'd just seen bought it. Intrigued, she rewound further and saw Dori, looking unhappy, married to a man dressed as a prominent businessman with the face of her most loathsome business rival, Frank Burke. Here she began to grow more uncomfortable, and decided it was time to get out of this reading and find out what the hell was going on.