by hamlet. » Mon May 04, 2020 7:24 am
🐡 C A R P | bounty hunter | 32 | he/him | location;; steepbanks | mentions;; sheriff/officers (indirect), open
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xxxxCarp awoke to a searing pain in his left palm. Spitting out an oath, he instinctively tried to flex it, but stiffened as fire raced up his arm. He forced himself to stay still for a moment, breathing through his nose, before he slowly used his right side to prop himself into a seated position and check on his wound.
xxxxIt wasn't a very pretty sight.
xxxxHe exhaled, shakily, before replacing the bandages. It was supposed to be a simple job. Track down the errant cattle rustler, talk some sense into them or cap a round into their knees. Bring them back to the sheriff for a meager reward. Maybe visit a saloon later for a celebratory drink. No sweat, Carp had the experience and seniority to make the job a cakewalk.
xxxxOf course, the guy had to put up a struggle. Guess the bounty hunter must've unknowingly made too bold of an advance, overstepped his boundaries, because Carp had nary opened his mouth and extended a hand before a bullet tore through his proffered palm. He ended up nailing the guy with a clumsy shot from behind a hay bale, but the damage was done. He's in no state to drag the body back when his trigger hand stands at the risk of being amputated, and settled for reliving the body of its pocket watch (a vintage, ornate thing) as proof of his success. It'll have to do.
xxxxCarp dismantled his crude campsite that he had set up for the night, dousing the embers of the fire with the remaining dregs of coffee brewed from a nearby creek. Kicked some dirt over it for good measure. Checked on his mare, Roulette, making sure all straps are good and cinched up. Cooed at her, who's a pretty girl? who's a pretty, pretty girl? yes you are!, before mounting her with his provisions all bundled up. The town is less than half a day's ride away, and Roulette made good progress. They cantered into the main street well before the sun had reached its highest point, slowing before the local sheriff's office. Carp dismounted, checked to see that his gloves hid his injury, before striding in with a jaunt in his step.
"Got a delivery, courtesy of mister Carp!" He announced, carefully coloring his words with false cheer and gusto. Last thing he needs is for word to get out that one of the most active bounty hunters in the county had gone and gotten himself shot. He'd lose job listings, or, worse case scenario, find another bullet in a more vital part of his body if the rumor mill gets wind that he's a sitting duck with his lame hand. Until he can find a reputable doctor, he'll have to sell a front of nonchalance. "Mind you, this wasn't an easy job. I don't think I'd be remiss to bargain for a bigger cut, don't you think?" As he spoke, he took in the inside of the office. He wondered who was in today; an officer, most likely. Perhaps even the sheriff herself?
🌿 Z E P H I E | hired help | 18 | they/them | location;; Marrow's estate | mentions;; bellamy (indirect), open
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xxxxZephie lofted several bales of hay onto their shoulders, transporting it from the silo to the barn. They've been up since sunrise, working the Marrow's pasture. It wasn't particularly grueling work, to be honest, but the youth would never turn down extra hours of sleep. They stifled a yawn as they push the door open with their back, wondering, blearily, who else was out and about. Perhaps the tall guy, Bellamy, would be up to work the horses today. Zephie hadn't really talked to him before, as they both stand on the less sociable end of the spectrum, but he seems nice enough. Good with animals, which was a glowing review in Zephie's book. They'd brought in an injured sparrow once, and he had realigned its bent wing with practiced ease.
xxxxThey start cleaning out the soiled hay from the night before, keeping an eye and ear out for any other signs of life aside from the quiet rustling of livestock. If they work fast, they might even have time to sneak out that small, black gelding for a surreptitious ride.
