The Legend of Malcolm Boyd

[Kip]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Some music to set the mood - I encourage you to listen to this as the Legend of Mal Boyd unfolds!

Mal Boyd surveyed the dusty New Mexico town in front of him from atop the back of his old pony. He patted the beast on the neck; she was old and had a few too many ribs showing, but she still had some kick left in her. He squinted through the haze. Small town. Middle of nowhere.

For the better, he thought.

He spurred her forward.

Mal was was out lookin' for trouble. And if he couldn't find any, he might just start some of his own.

[Kip]

Mal maneuvered his way to what looked like the town's saloon before dismounting. He tied up his pony Margaret to a stall, and patted her firmly on the rump before striding confidently through the swinging doors.

OOC: We'll call this town "outside of Santa Fe" as far as location goes.

[Barry Goldwater]

A man with crooked teeth suddenly stepped up and pulled Boyd to the side.

"Hey, you look like you know how to use a gun. You lookin' for work?"

[Kip]

Boyd glanced over the man's shoulders, surveying the room.

"I'm lookin' for a lot of things." Mal's eyes continued to dart over the surroundings as he spoke. "What do you need done?"

[Barry Goldwater]

"A bunch of scumbags decided it'd be a good idea to steal my livestock and are well on their way to the Mexican border, or so I've been told. You up for catching the rustlers and taking my cattle back? I've got the money right here, although obviously you'll need to do the deed before I let you touch any of it..."

The man pulls a pouch filled with coins and shakes it in front of Boyd.

[Kip]

Boyd's eyes finally fall upon the crooked-toothed man.

"How many thieves? They on foot or horseback? I suppose you don't know? What am I lookin' for, cattle? Horses? If I'm doin' some trackin' I'll need to know what I'm trackin'."

[Barry Goldwater]

"I have no clue how many there were or if they're mounted, though judging from the tracks they left I'd say there's five or six of 'em and at least two are mounted. And like I said, you'll be lookin' for cattle."

[Kip]

Boyd squinted. "I'll find 'em. Just point me in the right direction."

He turned and strode out the door, speaking without looking back. "Be here when I get back - or I'll find you too."

He untied Margaret and swiftly hopped into his saddle. "Alright girl," he said, settling into his seat. "Let's go find us some cattle."

OOC: Derp, the above post is proof of my awesome reading comprehension

[Barry Goldwater]

After two days of riding and searching, Boyd picks up news of a band of lawmen who are also hunting this band of rustlers (albeit for different reasons), presently at the dingy Horsehead Saloon...

[Kip]

Mal, pleased that the search yielded a lead quickly, pats his pony on the neck. "Alright girl, looks like we're visiting another watering hole. Just in time too - I'm feelin' thirsty."

He kicks his heels, and they gallop off towards the saloon.

[Barry Goldwater]

At the small and obviously poor saloon, there aren't many patrons - most obviously however, six out of the nine people in the building are all gathered in one corner of the room and seem to be deep in discussion.

[Kip]

Mal flicks a hand to the barkeep. "I'll have a whiskey - whatever you got." He then wanders over to a table near the six and takes a seat. He tucks the brim of his hat over his eyes, folds his hands across his belly nonchalantly, and tries to listen in on their conversation.

[Barry Goldwater]

As the bartender gets his whiskey, Boyd is able to pick up on the lawmen's conversation...

"...first murder, and now cattle rustling. I was thinking of dragging at least one of 'em back to Kansas, but I think we should hang the rat bastards high now..."

[Kip]

Boyd, his face still obscured by his hat and his hands still folded, speaks loud enough for the group of lawmen to overhear.

"Seems like the lot of us are looking for the same rats."

[Barry Goldwater]

One by one, the lawmen turned to face Boyd. If they were surprised or felt displeasure at his sudden intrusion, they did quite well in hiding it. Their leader, a heavily scarred man in his late forties or early fifties, speaks with a gravelly tone.

"Are we now? What kind of rat you tryin' to trap, then?"

[Kip]

"The kind that steals cattle. Apparently they're also the kind that commits murder, if you'll pardon my eavesdroppin'."

Mal pushed the brim of his hat out of his face, and turned to face the group. "I'm returnin' the herd to it's rightful owner - and lucky me, I just so happened to run into you boys."

[Barry Goldwater]

"That so? Well, as it happens there's a nice bounty on these rats' heads, and we're willing to share if you put your neck on the line with us. Interested?"

[Kip]

"I'll ride with you - but I'll be needin' the cattle once we've finished the job. That gonna sit well with you?"

Boyd paused.

"You can watch me hand 'em over to the rancher, if you think I'm poachin'."

[Barry Goldwater]

"Sits just fine with us. Get a good night's sleep, we're leaving tomorrow and we're not gonna wait for you if you sleep in."

[Kip]

"Was never much one for sleepin' anyways."

Mal downed his whiskey in one go, tucked his hat back over his eyes, and allowed himself to doze off right there in the saloon.