Partida Rol por web

Choctaw looks at the man in the bar. He is tired, he wants to stay in a place more than a week, he doesn't want to run again:

- Hey compadre! Tequila please, I'm dying here!

When Choctaw takes his drink he starts to talk with the barkeeper while he takes a cigar.

- Hey cantinero, I hearded that men likes me are needed here, I'm right?

-Toma, for you, said the owner of the Cantina as he served a shot of Tequila. Some kind of lizard was inside the bottle. The man observed Choctaw, and then the other tables. They were all minding their own business, and no one was looking.

-I dont think we need hombres like you here. But some days gringos come here, to San Acoma. With dollars in their pockets!, he added laughing and showing his yellow teeth. -Maybe you are lucky and someone comes here to give you a job, he added and filled his own glass as well.

-Salud!

It was a small two storey Cantina not far away from the San Acoma mesa. If it ever had had a specific name, it had been long forgotten. Now it was simply one of the many saloons and cantinas of the New Mexico and Arizona area. Maybe slightly cleaner than the most, maybe slightly more well-known and easy to find as it was only a few hours ride away from the road to Fort Worth. It also offered a variety of girls in the second floor rooms. One way or the other, it had been operating for a quite many years.

This early evening, the four tables were occupied. Two Mexicans were playing dice on the table to right from the bar. On the table next to them, a long haired man known as "El Alacran" was drinking tequila, facing the stairs going upstairs. The tables on the other side were also occupied. One had three cowboys, and on the other one there was a fancy looking man from the East. He had a dark suit and a strange hat. A journalist maybe.

The Cantina swinging doors made a squeaking sound. Another man walked in. He was wearing long leather boots, and he was wearing a Stetson hat. A low hanging speed draw holster gave the idea that he could be a gun hand. Or an outlaw. Or both.

Choctaw was drinking his tequila and remembering the recent newspaper articles he had read. Memories from months ago, from Delaware, of the gang... That was gone now....

NEWSPAPER REPORTS:

Special Dispatch of the Globe-Democrat, the Cherokee Advocate, Fort Smith, Arkansas, September 11, 1885

A Nice Gang Of Assassins - September 1-

Five prisoners of considerable notoriety arrived here today, three of them being Tom Lee, Ed Stein and Davidson, members of the notorious Lee gang, who a few months since murdered Indian Policeman J. H. Guy, Andy and Jim Roff, in Delaware Bend, Chickasaw Nation.

These three were arrested shortly after the murders occurred but Jim and Pink Lee for whom there is a reward of $5,000 are still at large. The other two are Jim and Jake Tobler, the two Negroes who murdered Frank Cass and Goodykooniz. These latter two were brought in by Deputy Marshal W. F. Jones, and on the way down they gave the officer a full account of the horrible deed.

Tom Lee and Ed Stein were tracked down in Denison, Texas where they surrendered and were sent to Ft. Smith, Arkansas for trial.
 
 

The leaders of the Lee Gang – Jim and Pink, remained at large until September 7, 1885. Legendary lawman, Heck Thomas had been doggedly trailing the pair and upon receiving a tip, he tracked them to the John Washington Ranch near Delaware Bend on the banks of Lake Texoma. Thomas, along with Jim Taylor, and a posse, caught the pair off-guard, surrounded them and ordered the fugitives to surrender. Instead, the Lee boys answered with their Winchesters and the inevitable shoot-out ensued. When the smoke cleared, the brothers lay dead. No one in the posse was wounded.
The bodies were loaded into a wagon and taken to Gainesville, Texas where Thomas and Taylor collected the reward.  The next day, the newspapers proclaimed:

"The Lee brothers, the most notorious desperadoes in Texas finally go down with their boots on.”  The press also attributed at least forty murders to the Lee Gang, but this has never been verified.

Choctaw finished his drink. The deaths of Pink and Jim Lee had not really affected him at all. He was an outcast, a half breed. His family had not really accepted him. And he had not felt part of the gang either.

Then he heard the swinging door open behind him. He was able to see the reflection in the dirty mirror in front of him. A gunslinger had come into the Cantina. And he smelled trouble.

Choctaw's guts tells him that's something wrong. He takes his tequila and goes to the left corner of the counter, slowly, near the barrels.  He takes his tequila glass and look at the barman:

- Thank's for the advice compadre, refill this please

And observes the new guy in the cantina.

Jose Luciano needs to run. He needs to get far away from San Acoma. But before, there is something he needs to do. Someone special he needs to see. He has come to the Cantina to take with him one of the working girls there.

He needs to flee. Tonight. He got involved in the killing of the marshall of San Acoma, Joe Wilmot. He shot him in the back after a night of drinking.

Nobody knows what he did. But sooner or later, someone will start tying the knots. It was a question of time. Jose had been seen arguing with Wilmot. And he had killed him with his sawed shot gun.

So here he was. Drinking his tequila. Building up his courage. Drinking to forget. Or to celebrate. He was in the mood for celebrating. A new start. The life of an outlaw. Women, liquor and guns. And the girl. Phew, she was something special. She was none other than the beautiful Rosanna. The delicate flower of San Acoma.

Jose Luciano was waiting for the right moment to speak to Juares, the cantinero. He was also Rosanna´s father, or uncle. Or simply the man who had the final word. It was not going to be easy to convince him, so just in case “El Alacran” was carrying his sawed shot gun under his poncho.

The man behind the bar was attending the new guy. A blond man with some Indian blood for sure. His gringo friend had gone upstairs, and Alacran had made sure he had not opened the door for Rosanna´s room. Lucky for the gringo. He was aware that Rosanna was visited by other men, but she would not have to anymore. She had told Jose how special he was, how special he made her feel. She would not have to work in a place like this anymore. After tonight, she would belong to him.

Just as Alacran gets up, Six Shooter O´Neill comes in reaking of cheap whiskey… and trouble. Jose had met him several times before. A gambler, a gunslinger, an outlaw. He visited San Acoma every now and then, sometimes with his famous gambler friend Franklin Leslie. Alacran and O´Neill had met a few times. There were not enemies as such, but there was definitely no love lost between the two.

The silence fell down in the canteen when the stranger made ​​his entrance ... José " Scorpion " rose heavily.

- Quiet friends, today is a day of celebration, and this new friend drinks free today. Let Juares and serve whiskey to that boy!

Alacran walked to the side at the new guy.

- Come on Juares, where is the whiskey? Serás pinche pendejo, move your big ass we are thirsty.

After the first drink, Alacran turned at the stranger.

- What brings you to my home friend?

Choctaw had moved closer to the barrels, and was now standing next Alacran. O´Neill was struggling to sit down on the third bar stool on the right hand side of the bar. He was quite drunk, and the chair won the contest and he kicked it to the ground and rested his right elbow on the counter for support. This left him facing Choctaw and Alacran, with his back to the stairs going upstairs.

James “Six Shooter” O´Neill was of average height, curly brown hair and a beard of few days. His clear blue eyes had a reddish color, and they stared at Alacran suspiciously. He had not ordered anything yet, but he did not like to be interrupted, nor ignored. And for sure not by some filthy Mexican. He had been drinking heavily for a few days, spending his winnings.

–Hey, you, mohado¹. Wait for yer turn, eh, would ya, he muttered and grabbed the bar for support again.

Choctaw looks at the gringo. And then looks the glass with tequila.

- Hey, man try with this...

And pushes the glass of tequila to him

O´Neill grabbed the tequila glass with a very swift movement of his right hand. He was wearing a leather gunslinger glove, and for a moment he stared at his own hand. He looked surprised at his own speed, and laughed to himself. He raised the glass to Choctaw, and as he was about to drink the liquor, he stopped to look more carefully. -W-What the..? You ain´t an Indian are you? Dammit, Jesus. The hell you are. You look... Y-you ain´t foolin´ no one. You´re a bloody goddamn red skin, no???! My God, am I the only n-normal man around here?

His voice was getting louder and louder.

Choctaw Lee looks at the drunk man.

- I'm Choctaw, and all of us are the same kind of man, sombitches. Ya don't look like a sin buster by the way.

-Choctaw? That sounds Indian to me..., O´Neill muttered as he drank the tequila. -I ain´t no preacher, you´right about that, he said and laughed. -In fact, tonight I think I will get laid... What was her name, Rosanna?! Ah, the beautiful Rosanna. I shall have her legs around me tonight. Hey, Mex, is Rosanna free?, he said shouting at the Cantinero

Jack Dekker was having fun in the sack with a Mexican girl. It had been a long time, many months riding and riding. Afterwards, he would enjoy a bath, if they had time. Some noises from downstairs made him loose his concentration a few times. Some drunk seemed to be shouting, and a chair fell down maybe. Nothing too serious. Nothing that would make him leave this bed and this company he had paid for.

Choctaw smiles.

- Yep amigo, I'm a fucking indian. Ya doesn't like mohados, but ya have no problem with the mex women.

Choctaw takes a cigar and lights.  Choctaw takes the last cigar he has and offers it to the man.

- I'm looking for a job, any idea? I'm not a sodbuster, and I don't want to be one.

When Alacran hear the Rosanna´s name, slowly turns to James as he says .

- It´s the first time I see a talking dog. Ve a ladrar elsewhere if you don´t want I give you a kick in your dirty ass gringo . Maybe it´s better I  go to gringoland  to make their women new bastards more polite than you. Oh! I forgget it, I don´t like dirty gringo bitches. I only like patear sucios culos like yours. Close your mouth up and go back with your sucia gente.

Alacran is prepared to take he´s gun. James has named the forbidden woman.