Chapter 1 - Part 1: Somethin's Amiss in Southern MO.
Prairie's Edge
Now Harold is the type of man that can talk to anyone, ain’t a soul in town that don’t respect the man. Part o’ his charm though lies with his tight lips when it comes to other people’s business, anyone who's been fool enough to touch upon the subject of the odd man upstairs has gotten a full steely stare down from the barber turned innkeeper. They were always smart enough to drop the subject.
Let it be known though, the people of Prairie’s Edge, MO. can be a forgiving lot. The odd man had been living in those rooms for nearly 3 weeks and even the busiest of bodies had taken it upon themselves to lose interest. That is, until a few missives went out. The young boy who delivers the mail to the pony man for everyone claims to have seen letters handed to Harold by the stranger himself. A shame the young boy ain’t never been taught to read or he’d know who they were to, a glaring oversight in the boy’s upbringing to say the least. Their interest was peaked again but nothing seemed to come of it, and there ain't a soul who would ask a pony man regarding someone else's mail, ain't proper. “Oh, well” the town seemed to say collectively as it turned it’s interest on far more routine matters, like what Old Man Teddy was up to, or even that youngin’ Cal who provided safe delivery for the town’s whisky. At least those two had the decency to be citizens of their fair town!
It is truly a shame they stopped paying attention, one of them might have been privy to another late night arrival. This time by a number of men come to greet the fellow. They may have even been surprised to see two of their own amongst the posse. It was as strange as things come, but alas no one was up and about to witness it. A missed opportunity, to say the least. Perhaps something would come along tomorrow.
Harold's Inn and Saloon
You all arrive in front of Harold's at an ungodly hour of the night, the dust blows down the street between your boots. There is an energy in the air that seems to crackle between you all, deep in your guts you have an odd feeling that seems to tell you you're meant to be here at this time. At the same time however a shiver of fear, or caution rolls down your backside.
Without a word you move forward through the swinging doors and it's as if the energy and odd feelings drop away to nothing. You feel like you could speak again if you wished. A man stands behind the bar and nods to you as you enter.
Harold
"I'm supposin' y'all must be the one's he sent for?" the man says in a silk voice, "Course you are, no other posse of men would come to my place this time o' night if you weren't." He pauses and pulls up a bottle of dusty whiskey. "Pull up a stool and I'll hand over the first round on the house, A.G isn't quite ready for ya, he'll be down soon though. Meanwhile, why don't you make some introductions, he made mention some of you would be strangers to one another." He reaches out a hand to Teddy and Cal and smiles "Good to see you boys, nice to know we have a few locals in on what's at stake in this town."
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The group settles into uneasy chatter regarding the odd scenario but libation proves to help settle some nerves. Harold proves to be rattled by something and freely pours his stock into the glasses. Before long a voice is heard overhead welcoming the group to Harold's Saloon, explaining how happy she is they are there. Yes, A.G., or Agatha as she calls herself, appears to be a woman and not a man as many believed. Even some in the town. She states that she frequently uses the guise, but why the caution?
Agatha
Agatha bids the men move their meet and greet into her rooms upstairs, and Harold seems quick to move them that direction. Cautioning them to hear her out.
The Map Agatha drew in the middle of the night
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Agatha has been cut off mid sentence by a commotion outside, seems an old enemy of Cal's has come out for blood. A real old enemy that is, one who seems to have been dead for quite a spell!
Pete Jenkins, fresh from the grave
