[DL] The second Chronicle of The Shaw Posse - Spoilers for President Davis storyline - LONG

[J Tolle <jwtolle@altavista.com>]

Well, it took me for bleedin' ever, but here is Chapter two.  Enjoy!

BTW, I have written this up as an adventure.  If you want a copy just let me know.  The adventure itself does not reveal any 'secret' info.  That actually is a part of a subplot for my campaign, so let me know if you want a copy.

Jeff


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A Chronicle of the Adventure of the Shaw Posse – Episode 2

In which our posse runs afoul of ethereal Indians; meet a traitor to his own people; nearly die; and help an old man redeem himself.

Prologue

It was not long before the train pulled into the station, and soon the posse was on its way.  They would begin their trip on a local line until they reached Memphis.  From there, they would take Black River rails to Dodge City, then switch to Union Blue to get them as far as Salt Lake City, or even Sacramento.  Then it would be back to local lines until they reached Gomorra.

“Boom Boom” Michael O’Connor arranged with Jake to take along his wagon and equipment, so he had the task of loading it and all the posse’s horses.  That was for the best, thought Michael, since his new partners may not like the crate of dynamite that he carried with him.  What they didn’t know would hurt them, he reckoned.

At the next car down, a cadre of heavily armed men boarded the train.  They protectively surrounded a single nattily dressed heavyset man.  The tinhorn danced from foot to foot with what Michael figured might impatience or perhaps fear.  He did not seem to be afraid of the armed men however.  Bored with watching the men climb into the first class car, Michael’s thoughts turned to his next nip of whiskey, and he went to look for the bar carriage.

Chapter 1 

Michael convinced the rest of the posse that a quick drink would not hurt ‘em.  All except Jake, he stayed behind in the posse’s private room.  Jake seemed very down.  He stared out the window watching the landscape pass by, giving only short one-word answers to any questions put to him.  Michael was sure a drop of whiskey would help Jake out, but the Indian politely declined.

Will too was not a happy man.  Before he died, his father gave Will a pair of exquisite pearl handled Colt Peacemakers.  Finnegan somehow destroyed one.  At least Will was pretty well convinced the man had something to do with the sudden rusting of his pappy’s weapon.  Will always took great care of his father's legacy, and the damaged revolver pained him.  As the others sat in the bar car, Will worked his way to the caboose.  By bribing the guards, he was able to walk all the way to the back of the train.

Will stood up against the railing on the small balcony outside the caboose and said a quick prayer to his dead father.  As the train rode over a trestle bridge, he lofted the ruined gun into the Cumberland River.  With his business done, Will went back to join the revelers.

After a short ride, and a large bar tab, the posse arrived in Memphis, gateway to the West.  To continue the journey, they had to switch to a train run by the Black River rails.  On their trip over to the new station, the posse noticed the chubby tinhorn and his bodyguards.  Tommy recognized the armed men as Rangers.  They seemed to be keeping an eye out in every direction.

Michael again offered to load the horses and the wagon onto the new train while the posse boarded the second of two first class passenger cars.  On a whim he decided that the crate of dynamite would be safer in their sleeper room rather than with the horses.  While the posse was distracted, Michael snuck the crate into the car.  The Rangers and their charge took over all the rooms in the forward first class carriage.  At the rear of the first carriage, two of the Rangers stood armed with double-barreled shotguns.  They kept a sharp eye on the posse, especially Jake.

It took a short while for everyone to settle in and choose their own bunks.  Jake continued to stare out the window.  Thomas took pity on the poor man, and sat down to talk with him.  It took some coaxing, but finally Jake opened up to Thomas, relaying an interesting story.

As it turns out, when Jake was a very young, he was involved in the tragedy know to the white man as the Trail of Tears.  This is the story he told Tommy.

“When I was a very small child, the Cherokee people were part of a Cherokee nation.  This nation stretched throughout parts of what you call Georgia, and the Carolinas.  Your president, Andrew Jackson, decided that he wanted the land.  He could not take it without a treaty.  He signed a treaty that we as a people did not want.  He signed that treaty with a man who claimed to represent us.  That man’s name was Major Ridge.  He was not a leader of our people.  For his crime, our true leader killed him.  We forbade his spirit from entering the Hunting Grounds.

Andrew Jackson then took the treaty to your Senate.  There he forced a vote on this not-treaty.  The not-treaty passed by one vote.  Even your Supreme Court did not recognize this not-treaty.  Andrew Jackson did not listen to the Cherokee people or his Senate.  He began forcing out people to march west.  He drove my people as you drive cattle here in the west.  He forced our people to give up our nation for the desert in Oklahoma.  On the way, many of my people escaped from the trail.  I also left when I saw my mother die.  I settled with a handful of my people.  These people became my new family.  We were in the land you know as Tennessee on the Cumberland River north of Nashville
 
I grew older.  I became a Shaman for Coyote.  I came to see the wisdom of the old ways.  My family and me were happy for a while.  Then came your bad war.  Again, we suffered at the hands of your people.

Many years later the people of the Confederacy - your people again kidnapped my tribe.  They forced me to work for one of your crazed men of science named Wildman Whitehouse.  Wildman was trying to open up doors to the Hunting Grounds.  If I did not work, they would kill members of my family.  One day, Coyote told me ‘Go to the city where the tears stopped and find the man who knows he is a hero.’  The next day Wildman had a breakthrough.  He asked me to summon a guide to lead him through the Hunting Grounds.  I think he discovered a means to trap spirits, and bend them to his will.  I told him that I would have to return to Nashville to do this.  There I would get my medicine bundle.  He convinced my jailers to let me go.  I do not think Wildman is really a bad man.  He named me Jake, after his dead son.  Wildman often thought I was his son, I think.  Wildman is a prisoner of his own mind.  The Confederates use Wildman like they use me, but he cannot see he is enslaved.

I returned to my old home.  First, I gathered an old leather pouch to fool the Confederate men.  Then I walked into Nashville.  There I found you, Tommy.  You are ‘the man who knows he is a hero.’  You are the man Coyote sent me to find.  You must set my tribe free.”

It was indeed an interesting and sad story, but something did not sit right with Thomas, he just couldn't put his finger on it.  Maybe if he mulled it over it would come to him.  Maybe, he allowed, the whole idea of the spirit of a Coyote nominating him to help Jake made him nervous.  Whatever the reason, Tommy leaned back to try to relax and absorb what he just heard.  Just then, someone started screaming started, followed by a shotgun blast.

Chapter 3

Surprisingly enough, old stone deaf Michael was the first to react to the noises.  He had a good idea who might be shooting so Michael ran to the next carriage holding the gun totin' Rangers.  As left his cabin, he could see the guards through the window.  One of 'em had unloaded a shot into the roof.  Both men peered anxiously at the ceiling.  Someone must be on the roof, Michael surmised.  Off he ran out of the posse's car and up the ladder on the back of the Ranger's car.  What he saw there made him wish he hadn’t been so hasty.

Down below, inside the rail car, the rest of the posse cleared their cabin.  They poured out just in time to see the two Rangers drop to the floor, screaming in terror as they fell.  The Shaws (Will and Thomas - no relation) ran forward, hoping to help the fallen men.  As they opened the door between the two carriages, they saw two Indians, seemingly floating waist deep in the floor.  Each figure was a wisp of rich brown smoke given mimicking human shape; each was a faded shadowy reflection of a man.  The only item that seemed of any substance on each creature was a single Cherokee rose behind each Indian's right ear.  William and Thomas stood in slack-jawed shock.

On the roof, Michael saw the angry blow coming, and reflexively raised his had to block the strike.  To his horror, the creature's insubstantial arm passed right through his, and then through his upper chest.  Michael felt his heart seize up.  For an eternity, it was all he could do to keep from falling to his death.  Then Michael swung back with a mighty blow that could have killed a man, but his hand blew through the shade's head.  In frustration, he screamed to Will and Tommy “I can nae hit the beasties.”  Instead, Michael dropped down the ladder, and ran to find Jake.  Maybe he would shed some light on the quickly deteriorating situation.

Will and Thomas also learned the hard way that the creatures were invulnerable to their weapons.  Both of them unloaded round after round into the horrifying creatures.  The specters answered with unstoppable chilling blows.  Both men were fast loosing the battle.  In desperation, Thomas looked around for help.  On the floor lay the Ranger’s shotguns.  Tommy noticed a row of silver bas-relief crosses down the barrel of each weapon.  Hastily he grabbed one as the creatures advanced.

Michael dragged Jake out into the hallway where he could see into the next car.  Jake's eye immediately dropped in shame.  "Yes Michael, you see the spirits of my people.  They have returned for justice.  The man they haunt was once a Senator from South Carolina.  He is the senator that cast the one vote for the not-treaty."  Well, it was important information, reasoned Michael, but it would not help their immediate situation.  He turned to go back and aid his comrades.

Despite the increasing number of spirits, Thomas had the situation in hand.  As Jake, Michael and Will watched, he unloaded both barrels of the Ranger's shotgun into the Cherokee spirit.  It was as if Thomas had blasted a sheet of paper.  The maelstrom of pellets ripped through the suddenly vulnerable spirit, ripping it to shreds.  All the hot buckshot left was a bit of swirling black ether that soon faded.  Will caught on quickly, and the two made short work of the other spirits.

Chapter 4

Michael pressed forward to find the Senator.  “That man has some explaining to do.”  Curious, the rest of the posse followed.  Finding the first two compartments empty, they came to a locked door at the third.  With a shove, Michael forced the door open.  A former Ranger lay dead across the doorway, making entry difficult at best.  Once inside, the posse found a second dead man, and cowering in the corner, the Ex-senator.

Michael tried to calm the hysterical man down by forcing a drink on him.  It seemed to work since it didn’t take much to get the man talking about the terrible incident.  The man’s name was Senator Thaddeus Holland, and he was indeed the deciding vote on the Cherokee treaty.  The posse was shocked to learn that this was not the first time the Ex-senator had seen the creatures.  The spirits came to haunt Mr. Holland at least once a week since the summer of 1863.  The only way to drive them off was to use weapons blessed in God’s name by an ordained minister of renowned faith.  Unfortunately, that only worked for a short while.  The spirits would be back, maybe as soon as the next sunrise.

Will and Michael led the Senator back to their car.  Thomas stayed behind to look around.  In addition to looting most of the Ranger's weapons, he also found a bible.  In the back of the good book, there were some notes about the creatures.  Mainly the note detailed what the posse had already surmised.  Tommy did find out the spirits could only taunt their victim, not hurt him directly.  In the Senator's effects, he found an interesting letter from Major Ridge.  Thomas recognized the name as the traitor of the Cherokee people.  Thomas quickly read the letter.

Once back in the car, Thomas explained the situation to the others.  “Thaddeus here planned a meeting with a Cherokee named Major Ridge who claims the spirits haunt him as well.”  Jake's eyes grew wide.  "Major Ridge!  He is dead."

"No Jake he isn't.  He very much alive, and he claims he knows how the Senator can be rid of his curse."

It looked like the posse was going to make an unscheduled stop in the Coyote Confederation.

Chapter 5

As the posse walked back to their car, Thomas took the chance to pull Jake aside.

"Somethin' still doesn't sit right with your story Jake.  Why can't you just be honest with me?  Why in tarnation would Confederates kidnap your kin?  I mean, despite all that has gone on the Coyotes and the Southerners still get along.  I don’t reckon the even the dumbest Johnny Reb would risk makin' a powerful ally mad.” 

Jake grew deathly serious.  "I can not tell you.  It will place your very life in danger."

Thomas locked eyes with the man, and growled.  "Dammit Jake, we're risking our life for you right now.  What we don't know will kill us for sure.  Now you are going to tell me, or this whole deal is off, you hear me, Jake?"

Cowed, but still reluctant, Jake nodded, on the condition that Thomas tell no one but the posse this story.

"As I grew older your war broke out.  We lived in the middle of two advancing armies.  One day I was on a spirit quest in the woods.  I witnessed the great clash.  It was terrifying and beautiful at the same time.  Coyote had much more to show me.  That night Coyote led me to a white man alone in the woods.  It was your own President Davis.  He and I talked of our nations.  He warned me that this area would likely soon become a broken land, where no one should live.  He said I should move my family away from here.  It embarrassed him to ask this of me.  Perhaps he knew of my people’s history, and he felt ashamed.  He promised the move would be nothing like the Trail of Tears.  He vowed that he would help my family join the rest of the Cherokee tribe, if I we so wished.  He promised to pay for food and horses, passage on a train, whatever I and my family would like.  He asked that we come see him in Nashville tomorrow.  He was not lying.  I left him to his own quest.

Coyote had more to show me.  While walking, I noticed strange tracks.  The tracks were from a clawed beast that stood on two legs like a man.  Its tracks showed it crouching in the cover of bushes.  It would then dart to more cover.  It was stalking someone.  It took little effort to realize it was stalking President Davis.  I feared for the man’s life.  I ran back to where I last saw the man.  Then a horrific scream of terrible pain rang out.  I hoped that I was not too late.  I ran to help the man.  I arrived at a clearing.  I looked like the President survived.  He stood over a mangled corpse.  I did not say anything to the man.  Instead, I slipped back into the forest.

The next day I took my family into the city of Nashville.  I left them waiting outside the Confederate camp.  Inside the camp, I found several men freshly hung.  A man nearby explained.  They were the President’s personal guard.  The President found them guilty of treason.  That morning, in an emergency meeting, the Presidents established a new cadre of honor guard.  He hand picked the men, and called the Nightwatch.  This man was a member.  I asked him if the hung men were supposed to guard the President last night.  That is when the man drew his revolver, and said ‘you had better come with me.’

He took me to the President room.  The President did not seem to remember his promises or me.  All he wanted to know was why I asked about last night.  He looked like the President, but he was not the same man I met last night.  I refused to answer his questions.  He ordered me hung.  I pleaded that he not hang me in front of my family.  To my surprise, he told the man to wait.  ‘We may be able to use this man.  I sense some power within him.  Round up his family, and bring them with us to Belle Isle.  If he resists, kill a family member.  Something tells me I can use this man.’  We were in that prison for about a year before Davis shipped us to Gomorra.

So, now you know Thomas.  I hope the burden of this knowledge is not too heavy, but remember, you asked for it.”

Tommy gave a sigh.  He wasn’t sure if he believed the story.  He knew Soaring Spirit Eagle sure did.  True or not the Shaw Posse were in a fine pickle.  Tommy was beginning to regret that he ever said he would help.

Interlude

That night Will dreamed of his father.  His pap stood before Will and chewed him out.  “You disappoint me, boy.  I trusted you with those guns.  You need to bring them back to me, boy.”

“But, you’re dead.”

“You better listen to me Will.  I don’t cotton to you whinin’.  Dead or not those guns are not yours to throw away, boy.  So, quit your bellyachin’ and get on with your task.  You let me down once, don’t ever do it again.”

Will guiltily touched the scar that runs down his face.  “I was a youngin.  I couldn’t kill that outlaw.  But I tried Pap.”

His father didn’t answer.  He just slapped leather.  Will screamed, and awoke, desperately grabbing for his new Peacemakers.  However, his hand closed over the familiar coldness of a pearl inlay.  Both his pappy’s pistols were back, without a spot of rust on them.

Chapter 6

The train pulled away, abandoning the posse in the middle of the Cherokee Confederation desert.  As the last car pulled out of the station, the posse could finally see the station house, the water tower, and, worst of all, the gang of men who stepped out of the shadow of the station.

Will thought that sure is a motley crew.  While all were Injins, one man gussied up in a formal outfit like a tinhorn headed to a ball.  He sat astride a Tennessee Walking Horse, pretty but not very practical.  His saddle creaked from the new leather.  The silver rivets on his tack glittered in the desert sun.  He even had two bas-relief silver handled custom made Colt Navy Revolvers on each hip.  The other men were Indians that are more typical.  Complete with Appaloosa horses, bows and tattoos (of ravens, Will noticed.)  They all looked ready for trouble.  Will looked around at his friends.  They seemed ready.  Everyone besides the Senator that is.  He hid in the back of Michael's cart.

The Tinhorn spoke.  "I am Major Ridge, of the Cherokee nation.  I do not know who you might be, but I thank you for bringing me my quarry here.  Now, if you will kindly hand over the fugitive, I will leave you about your business."  Laws a' mercy thought Will.  He even speaks like a Tinhorn.

Thomas lowered his shotgun and advanced on the man.  He fixed the Major with his glare, and seemed to freeze him in place.  "The Senator stays with us."  He said.  Incredibly, the Major had let Thomas walk into point blank range.  Major ridge shook his head, and raised an arm to signal his men to attack.  In a flash, Thomas whipped up the shotgun, and gave the Major both barrels in the belly.  The Major slumped forward over his horse, not moving.

Thomas looked mighty satisfied.  “That takes care of that.”  Will was not so easily convinced.  After all, the Major died once before.  After his dream last night, he reckoned not all corpses stayed dead.  Sure enough, the Major leapt off his horse on top of Thomas.  Tommy fell on his belly, unable to defend himself.  Despite Major Ridge’s obvious injury, he lit into Tommy.  The Major hands were a blur as he slapped the back of Tommy’s head repeatedly.  Will saw gouts of blood flying everywhere.  Tommy lay unmoving, his life threatening wound seeping blood.  Before the posse could react, the Major stood, and remounted his horse.
 
At the Major's signal, the Indians began to circle firing arrows into the cart that the posse hastily used for cover.  Under a hail of arrows Will, Michael and Jake gamely fired at the circling men.  The Major, in the meantime just watched Thomas for signs of life.  It looked like if Thomas so much as moved he was a goner.  Will reasoned that the other Indians just might leave if he dropped their leader.  He took careful aim with both his guns, and squeezed the triggers.  The shots hit the Major squarely in his already injured belly, and tore the man twain.  His top half fell from the horse right onto Thomas' prone body.  The bottom fell to the other side.

With a few well-placed shots, the others Indians ran off.  Jake ran to Thomas’s side.  Michael almost jumped Jake as he pulled out a knife, but the Shaman began chanting and cutting his own flesh, chanting as he did so.  Then, miraculously Thomas' eyes fluttered open.  Michael had figured Tommy was a goner, but the wound didn’t seem that bad.  An errant thought popped into his head.  Maybe Jake worked some magic on Tommy…  Rather than think about it< Michael just took a gulp from his hip flask.  There was just too much weirdness going on of late.  Still drinkin’ helped make it better.

The posse decided that they would rest here for the day, what with Tommy’s injuries and all.  Michael suggested that he would hunt for food if they rest of the posse set up camp.  Will and Jake agreed, but Thomas insisted that they first gather firewood.  "What fer?" asked Will.

"I'm gonna burn the Major to ashes."  Thomas growled.

With the pyre being so hot, the posse decided to rest across the tracks from the burning corpse.  Even Thaddeus Holland seemed relaxed.  Everyone was confident that the posse eliminated the threat by killing Major Ridge.  The posse turned their mind to other things, mainly to forget the terrifying sights of the last two days.  Then Tommy heard the crash from the bonfire.

The posse rushed over to see what had happened, only to find the lower half of Major Ridge burning merrily in the fire.  Unfortunately, the upper portion was gone.  Suspicious drag marks led away from the fire to behind the station house.  There the marks ended in a depression of loose sand.  Strew outwards from the hole lay long fingers of thrown dirt.  It was as if the mutilated, cremated corpse of Major Ridge had dug down into the sand and escaped.

Michael was convinced a wild animal had taken the corpse.  At least, that was what he tried to convince himself.  With a few more nips of the bottle, he even began to really believe that.  Tommy merely shook his head in frustration.

Chapter 7

The next train would be back around noon tomorrow, about the same time it stopped here today.  The posse then had a few hours to kill.  They amused themselves by telling stories of their exploits back East.  Tommy told the tale of when he helped the Aboriginal folk in Australia escape from a rancher named Roy Marston.  He even spoke a little Aboriginal for his companions.  In the middle of one tall tale, the Senator sat bolt upright.  "They are coming back."  He said his eyes full of terror.

“What!”  Michael yelled.

“We took care of the Major.” Protested Will

“Crap” was all Tommy had to offer.

Sure enough, the shadow began to deepen, and a chill came across the posse.  They were in a bad way, and they knew it.  The last fight let them with no shells blessed by a true believer.  They had no weapons to defeat the creatures.  The only other option was to run.  Michael bolted to his cart, and began to quickly harness the horses.  He was done in fairly short order.

"Everyone get on the cart."  Michael screamed, and they all piled on.
 
Jake pointed northward, across the tracks.  "The closet village lies just over that ridge."

Michael jerked the reigns and steered the team to where Jake pointed.

"Why so far, Jake."  Will asked.

"Most of this village follows of the 'Old Ways' movement.  They turn their back on the white man's magic - what you call technology."

"Oh.  I see."  Will replied, lying through his teeth.  Jake smiled in reply.

"We can't go there."  The Senator whined.  "They plan to torture me."

"How do you know what their plans are, Thaddeus?"  Thomas asked.  The senator clammed up.  Thomas looked him square in the eye.  "You tells us now, your honor, or I'm gonna bounce you off the back of this buggy.  Those things may not be able to kill you, but I know they will have fun for however long it takes for you to wander out of the desert."

"It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.  Major Ridge was supposed to tell me how to get rid of ‘em.  Those Rangers never would have asked questions.”

“Senator,” Tommy growled, “All the Major wanted was you dead.  As for me - I am about out of patience, and I am beginning to like the Major more and more.”  With that, he cocked his Winchester 50.

The Senator took a long swallow.  “The spirits whisper to me, demanding justice.  They tell me that when their people try me I will be free.  But I know of the Cherokee’s justice, and it is far worse than the spirits could do."

Thomas was livid.  "Why did you not tell us this earlier?"

Senator Thaddeus Holland seemed near tears.  "Like I said, who know what those savages would require for justice."

Michael wheeled his cart to the north.  "I don't know, but believe we shurn' be finding out soon right soon, boyo."

As they rode, hell-bent for leather towards the village, Michael had one more question for Thaddeus.  "There must have been a whole bunch of other Senators who voted for this treaty.  Why aren’t they being chased by the ghoulies?"  Thaddeus just hung his head.  "You took a bribe didn't you?"  Thaddeus nodded sheepishly.  

"Don't worry," Michael comforted "it will all be over soon."  With the ghosts in hot pursuit, he urged the cart on.

Chapter 8

Thaddeus turned out to be a lot less fragile than Will expected.  As punishment, the Cherokee suspended Thaddeus from large spines punched through the loose skin on his chest.  Will reckoned the old man should be dead by now.  He asked Laughing Bear, the tribe's chief, about that possibility.  He replied, "So be it."  The trial took about two hours.  Immediately afterwards, the Cherokee delivered the punishment.  Will felt like it was too much, and yet not enough punishment.  Still, if torture satisfied the Cherokee people and the Senator’s ghosts then 'so be it' pretty much covered how Will Shaw felt about the situation.

Michael was a little uncomfortable with the entire trial.  He pulled out his best suit, and prepared to be a witness on Senator Thaddeus Holland's crimes.  It took a while to find a place to change.  Public speaking made him nervous, so he took a quick look around for a little liquid courage.  Walking with the disheveled dignity that only a sobered-up chronic drinker can muster, he entered the square to find Senator Thaddeus Holland suspended by his nipples.  Michael just about fell out right there.  If he was to keep his composure, he had to have a drink!  Luckily, Boom Boom found a young man who claimed to have "Just what he needed."

The boy returned with a jar full of a clear but foul smelling liquid.  It packed a heck of a punch, and Michael grimaced as he tossed it back.  The boy claimed it was extract of Coyote or something like that.  All Michael knew was that it was might powerful stuff.  He had trouble keeping it down, but a couple of sips was all it took.  Michael saw the Indian spirits again.  This time, they did not look angry.  In stead, they sat around the Senator and watched.  Michael sat through the night in fascination, watching the wronged ghosts.  As the day broke, one by one, each spirit faced him, gave a small bow and disappeared.

Thomas was not wet behind the ears by any stretch of the imagination.  He knew something of the otherworldly occurrences that plagued the modern world.  Still he could learn more, and he reckoned Laughing Bear might be able to fill in some details.  Laughing Bear was happy to teach Tommy some new ideas, including what Laughing Bear called the "Day of Reckoning."  Laughing Bear also explained a little about their justice.  While Tommy was at ease with Thaddeus’s punishment, he felt that a little Southern justice was in order.  The next day, when Laughing Bear took Thaddeus to a tent to heal, Thomas asked to help with the criminal’s wounds.  As he lay recovering, Thomas leaned in close.  "We got one more thing to take care of here, Senator.  How much did your vote cost you?"

"Not 'how much.'"  He replied, "but 'what'.  I received an island off the coast of South Carolina.  A place called Kiawah."

"Well, I reckon you otta give it to these fine Cherokee gentlemen.  After all it aint yours."  Senator Thaddeus Landed opened his mouth to protest, but Thomas gave him the eye.  The Ex-senator’s mouth shut with an audible slap.  He merely nodded.

"I'll work up an agreement."  Thomas said.  With that done, he had one last thing to take care of.  He wanted them to spread the word that Senator Thaddeus Holland served his time.  To do that Thomas needed people to spread the word so that the story would not wither and die in the village.  The tale had to be motivational as well as inspirational.  Thomas wasn’t the tale tellin’ type.  Maybe he would do some good, or even alleviate people's fear, he didn't know, but he aimed to try.

With the agreement all set, the speeches done, and the once restless dead returned to the hunting grounds, the posse packed up to move out.  The village gathered to see them off, as they headed over the ridge and down to meet the next train.  

Epilogue

That night, as the train rolled onward to the Weird West, Thomas tried to sleep.  Against all logic, he could have sworn he heard the sound of hoof beats.  They were faint against the sound of the train, yet insistent, a driving ravenous sound.  It was as if the devils on herd hunted Tommy, because Tommy knew too much.  He awoke unsettled and unrested, the sounds of hoof beats still pursuing him.


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