Day Three, Newhouse Jail, Beylix, 11:10 am
Captain Sung turned his attention rather abruptly from the prisoner to the sheriff. “When’s the trial, Sheriff?”

“The trial? Oh! That. Well, we have to wait for the Governing council to open up so that we can have a judge assigned to Mr. Bowman’s case. Then he will have his trial and evidence will be presented.”

(assuming a “when will that be?”)

“Well now, there is the difficulty. The council is…on vacation.”

(assuming “for how long”)

“Ah. Well. There you have hit the hammer on the nail. You see … We don’t know. The council didn’t rightly tell anyone how long they’d be.”

“Or where they went off to either.” Deputy adds, “Been away almost a month now haven’t they Sheriff?”

“No. More like three weeks. But they will be back soon. Then we’ll get you that trial and hopefully the witnesses will still be around to speak on Mr. Bowman’s behalf.” the sheriff says with the conviction of a man making the best of a bad situation. "Coffee? Whiskey?"

Just as you are absorbing the information the sheriff is telling you, in walks another man will a silver star. He is a lean, imposing man with an inscrutable face and bright piercing eyes. Very tall, with steel gray hair and distinctive hawk like nose; his badge was polished up bright and he carried old style Colt at his hip, and a M40A3 that he slung across his shoulder.

“Sheriff.” The man says with a nod, “Ken tells me there are people looking for me.”

The sheriff nods with enthusiasm. “Luke Pearson, this here is Mr. Blake and Associates. They want to talk to you about being sheriff on their patch of dirt.”

“Really?” Luke nods, and then looks over Wyatt, Sam and Wolf. He then looks a question at the sheriff.

“The flight crew for these men.” The sheriff offers helpfully. With those words, Luke seems to sum all of you up and passes you a brief nod of greeting.

“So what type of sheriff you looking for?” Luke asks bluntly, “I’m a fella who likes a challenge so if you are looking for a lazy no good wooden puppet to look pretty and mind the women; you’ve got the wrong man.” He says with a none too subtle glance at the Sheriff Arness.

“Oh no,” John replies, “Frisco, Regina is a mining town with a lot of lawless evil men. We need someone talented in keeping the peace.”

“Sounds mighty interesting.” Luke says while leaning his rifle against the wall and taking a seat with the gentlemen. “What you thinking on wages, because I’m not free?”

The men start to talk money and although a lawman, Luke seems to know his worth. Ken returns shortly after Luke appears but the sheriff whispers something to him and he is gone again in a hurry.

Day Three, Leaving Rocinante, Beylix spaceport, 11:00 am
James and Willow stroll down JW McClarrin Avenue. At first you pass smelting equipment and chemical storage tacks but the road gives way to a park in the centre of town labelled simply “The Green”. It is a pretty park, if small, with green grass and a few trees for shade. There are a few families having picnics with kids playing. Willow observes that all the main buildings of Newhouse face the Green. The park is an oddity here on Beylix, but it seems to be a reminder to people that there is life even in a junkyard town.

Willow’s trained eye notice the jailhouse and the hover mule parked outside. That would be where the boys are if she found herself in trouble. Emmett’s bar is only a few buildings away from the jail, on the south side of the Green. James smiles proudly at the stares he receives for having Willow on his arm as they approach the upscale (for Newhouse) tavern.

The bar is decorated in Mahogany board which gives it a dark look even in the mid-day. The place is clean and well cared for, the smell of wood oil and pine can be faintly detected in the air. The floor is carpeted in a burgundy wall to wall rung that has lain here so long than you can tell what seats are more popular by the wear patterns. Near the back is a stairs going upwards which seems to be the most beaten path here. The rug near the doorway has been scrubbed clean recently, for there is a brighter patch than the rest at the entrance.

It seemed much larger on the inside than it did on the outside, but that could be because there were so few people in here. There were twenty tables set up in the tavern but only three were occupied. One table had three men playing cards; they look up as you enters but don’t pay you much mind. By their work overalls, dirty complexions and the odd burn scar, you would guess they work in the smelting plant, either just off shift or about to go on. A second table is occupied by a Chinese man, asleep snoring loudly across the back booth. The third has a woman no longer in her prime, but still pretty in her own right. She is dressed up all frilly in a tacky and cheap way. She is surprised by your appearance but she rights herself and runs behind the bar to greet her customer.

“Hi y’all. Welcome to Emmett’s Wha’ca ya like?” she asks as she comes up to you. Her frilly dress is peach coloured, clasp held for easy removal and exposes a healthy amount of cleavage. You doubt she’s the owner. “First glass is on the house. Or were you just looking for a room because they’re all available?”

James approaches the bar while drawing out his wallet. He lays a pristine 20 credit note on the bar and asks quietly, “You can tell me where I might find a Benny Xiau. If you can, and this is yours.”

The credit note is snatched, folded, and disappearing into her Décolletage faster than James eye could follow, “Why Sugar, he’s the man sawing wood in the back booth. Anything else you’d like to pay for that I’d give you for free?”

“Ummm. No. Thank you.” James stammers and turns to head toward the booth. “Did you see how fast she took my money?” he mutters to Willow, “Really, some people.”

Willow watched with bemusement as the goodtime girl made the money disappear, and smiled to herself at James’ comment. “I know, James,” she responded smoothly,” I’d have waited to see how much money you had before answering.” When James gave her a startled look, clearly thrown off balance, she gave him another dazzling smile.

“Never mind, darling, I’m just playing. Say, is that who we’re here to see? How’s your Chinese, James? Less chance of a misunderstanding if you can speak plainly.”

James laughed as well, "Chinese? Surely he speaks english as all do."

Day Three, Newhouse Jail, Beylix, 11:10 am
“When’s the trial, Sheriff?”

“The trial? Oh! That. Well, we have to wait for the Governing council to open up so that we can have a judge assigned to Mr. Bowman’s case. Then he will have his trial and evidence will be presented.”

An’ don’t fergit th’ greasin’ o’ palms an’ th’ political pi-gu pokin’ what’s gotta go on ‘fore they fit Andy’s neck fer a noose, Dash managed to censor that thought before it got from mind to mouth; only a sardonic smirk made it to his lips as he paced a step or two towards Wolf…

(assuming a “when will that be?”)

“Well now, there is the difficulty. The council is…on vacation.”

…The smirk gave way to a derisive snort and Sam rolled his eyes at Wolf before he turned and paced those same few steps back across the floor. “Well,” the pilot chuffed, forgetting to censor himself again, “ain’t that jus’ jing zhang mei yong duh (ordinarily useless)?” He figured he knew the answer to Wyatt’s “how long” even before the Sheriff managed to spit it out…O’ course they don’t ruttin’ know how long, the look he shot in the Captain’s direction said, Y’know how it works, Wyatt… them as do all th’ dirt fer the gov’ment don’t never know half o’ what them as do the orderin’ of all th’ dirt’re up to… an’ prob’ly know why they’s doin’ th’ dirt less’n half o’ that…
Dash had a good start on pacing a respectable rut into the floor of the Sheriff’s Office when the door opened again and admitted the rather imposing figure of the man who must have been this Luke Pearson ja hwo. He stopped his back-and-forth just long enough to get a decent gander at the man, taking particular note of the sniper rifle yoked over that one shoulder, then, with the fingers of one hand scratching absently at the stubble on his chin and the fingers of the other drumming lightly against the leather of his gunbelt, turned on his heel, lifted a dubious brow at the Cap, and took back to his pacing….

((OOC: That’s about as far as I can go with Dash, at the moment, I suppose… I figure he’ll probably have let Luke’s nod go without having acknowledged it other than to blink and keep to his pacing, listening, and watching throughout the duration of Pearson’s convo with Blake and company… If the negotiations go well, I think, Sam’s got the feeling that he ain’t much gonna care for Luke bein’ aboard Roc for the return trip to Frisco… backposts, edits, and such as necessary, of course…))

Day Three, Newhouse Jail, Beylix, 11:10 am
Three Gorram weeks!? Wyatt had been in the Resistance. He knew ineptitude first hand, as anyone in the military was forced to experience, but three weeks before an innocent man could be tried? Staring at the sheriff’s desk, the captain began to review their options. He couldn’t leave Andrew locked up to experience the fate of Backwater Law. That just wasn’t an option as far as he was concerned. Maybe it returned him to the war when no man was left behind, maybe it was just that Andrew was the closest thing to actual blood family he had seen in some time and the very sight of him was both a painful and a reminder of happier times. Whatever it was, he knew that Bowman wouldn’t be left there to rot.

Wyatt caught Sam’s look and allowed his eyes to drop to the slung iron at the pilot’s hip before he met the man’s gaze once more. He hadn’t had Wolf around long enough to be able to share such meanings with a simple look as he had Sam, so he silently prayed that Buddha’d spur the mechanic into action should the need present itself, and keep his hand should things go as the captain hoped.

Once the business was being attended to and the deputy had been sent out again, Sung made his move, strolling easily towards the sheriff and inserting himself into a position where he could have a quiet conversation with the man and not be overheard by the businessmen he’d brought to Beylix.

(Influence, please)
“Three weeks is a long time t’ feed an’ tend t’ anyone, Sheriff,” Wyatt drawled easily enough, leaning against the desk and hooking his thumbs in his gun belt. “I bet that’s awful expensive-like, not t’ mention the man hours necessary t’ keep someone on guard the majority of the time.”

Turning his head so that he was looking out the window at the bustling street beyond he made his play. “Now, wouldn’t it be less expensive, and quieter, fer everyone if he could just disappear? Ya know? Leave Beylix an’ get outta yer hair. I could make that happen, ya know. My ship’ll be leaving as soon as we’re refit, an’ the business here is attended to. Mr. Bowman could be on that ship an’ it’d be you doin’ the public a service savin’ their tax money an’ all. Room, board, the cost o’ the trial, the expenses’ll just keep pilin’ up, an’ when the council returns from their business with you savin’ them all that money…well, can’t you jus’ see how appreciative they’ll be?”

Andrew Bowman slipped his hands through the bars as Wyatt walked towards the sheriff, and leaned his forehead against the bars. His eyes narrowed a bit in consideration. He couldn’t hear what the captain was saying—the captain…Andrew had to smile. The last time he’d seen the man he’d been a rancher with barely a scrub brush spread and a few head of cattle to his name. Now, he was the captain of a starship. But if there was one thing he knew about Wyatt Sung it was that the man was smart. Maybe he could find the time to speak with Sung before his business was concluded, and find some way that he could help him out of this situation.

He was perfectly content waiting on the Law to consider his case and come to the conclusion that he was innocent, but three weeks was a really long time to have to wait.

Newhouse, Beylix, 11:11am Day Three
Wolf had remained quiet and for the most part found himself ignored which, truth be told, was fine with him. The ship’s mechanic had often found himself treated as such until the Beretta SMP’s in his shoulder holsters were drawn and the fight was on.

And it was here as he watched the goings on that he caught the look between Wyatt and Sam and though he could not be sure 100% of what the look meant he was no fool, the Cap’n was planning something. Causally as to cause no sense of worry in any of the others in the office he moved closer to the main door, scratching himself under his duster as if an inch,*and in the process positioning himself to cover the egress or entrance of the same.

Whatever Cap’n Wyatt had planned Fenris was ready.........

(*: Quietly if possible unsnapping the holster safety straps holding the pistols in place)

Willow had to stifle the urge to pinch James, he was being so dense. It was so annoying when one was trying to be clever, but the others wouldn’t play along.

“Of course he does,” she murmured, giving James a playful swat on the arm,” except when it is to his advantage to not speak English. My mother spoke five languages except when she was mad at my father…then she only spoke Urdu. Really, James, you must get off planet more.”

She hoped that her mix of flattery and subtle slights would put James off balance, without actually getting him upset with her. She’d couldn’t be sure how well James understood Chinese, since he didn’t really answer her, so she’d have to play it carefully. If James was oblivious to her side conversation with Benny, she’d negotiate her own deal with him for the chess piece, otherwise she’d just let James make his best deal, then find a way to speak to Benny on her own.

It’s unlikely that Benny would have the white king with him, and James wouldn’t have been stupid enough to walk around town with a considerable sum of cash…I hope.
Edited to add: With that thought, she decided to have a plan B, or possibly this could be considered plan C. "James, dear, you did promise me a drink. Miss?" she waved gaily at the barmaid, "a bottle of your finest whikey over here, three glasses, please!"

Newhouse, Beylix, Jailhouse, 11:20am Day Three
Negotiations were going well between the sheriff to be and the town folk. They seem to be ironing out the whats and wherefores to both of their liking as Wyatt spoke to the sheriff.

“Mr. Bowman could be on that ship an’ it’d be you doin’ the public a service savin’ their tax money an’ all. Room, board, the cost o’ the trial, the expenses’ll just keep pilin’ up, an’ when the council returns from their business with you savin’ them all that money…well, can’t you jus’ see how appreciative they’ll be?”

“Well,” drawled the sheriff as he sat on the edge of his desk, “Thing is that prisoners aren’t really all that expensive to me. The jail is there, whether he’s there or not. Food is provided by a lady who is working off her own community service with nutritional if completely tasteless food. So you see, I’m not overly out of pocket. The council gives me a pretty free hand here to run things as I see fit so, not an issue.

“But, why don’t we cut to the chase here fellows. I’m sure you’d like to leave with your friend, and I’m not really opposed to seeing you or your friend leaving my town. So why don’t you post bail for Mr. Bowman, say 500 credits? I’ll send you a wave when the trial is scheduled and you can bring him back if it suits you.

Now I hope you weren’t thinking of anything heroic like, as you are armed men. It would so sour the deal these fine gentlemen here are doing, and by now, my deputy has put a land lock on your ship so, you ain’t going anywhere without my blessing.”

Newhouse, Beylix, Emmett’s Bar, 11:15am Day Three
The back booth has become the sleeping quarters of a man who has seen his share of bad days. He is a man of oriental descent, with a bald head and a straggly goatee. His face has the puffiness of someone who has been one with the drink for too long. His clothing are plain workman’s clothing that have been slept in (as well as other things) often. His black jacket, however beat up now, shows sign of once being well made and expensive.

Jimmy leans over the man, “Excuse me? Are you Benny Xiau?”

The man snorts loudly and rolls over in the booth, “Huh? What? I said 700! Give me cheese or I’ll ride the ponies for you mom.” He says sleepily, “and your little dog too.”

Jimmy looks over at Willow with a questioning expression and then leans over to tap Benny on the shoulder, “Mr. Xiau. I’m James Blake, and I want to talk to you about a chess piece. I have lots of cash if you’d like to sell.”

“Oh honey!” the barmaid calls over with a laugh, “If you got lots of cash then I’m the one selling my chest pieces. For the right amount, I’ll even let both of you play.”

Newhouse, Beylix, 11:20am Day Three
Wolf had only been listening with 1 ear as captain Wyatt talked about getting his friend released. His attention for the most part was divided between the other people in the room and on keeping an eye out the front door on the mule. However all that changed on when the sheriff’s words finally caught his attention.

“But, why don’t we cut to the chase here fellows. I’m sure you’d like to leave with your friend, and I’m not really opposed to seeing you or your friend leaving my town. So why don’t you post bail for Mr. Bowman, say 500 credits? I’ll send you a wave when the trial is scheduled and you can bring him back if it suits you. Now I hope you weren’t thinking of anything heroic like, as you are armed men. It would so sour the deal these fine gentlemen here are doing, and by now, my deputy has put a land lock on your ship so, you ain’t going anywhere without my blessing.”
Tzao gao had the sheriff noticed his unsnapping of his SMG pistols and his positioning, had he inadvertently blown it for a reasonable outcome?. With the revelation of the ship being landlocked Crow had to fight his instinctual urge to drive the mule back to the ship and blow the land lock device to shreds. How dare this Shee-niou of a backwoods sheriff think he could do such. But taking a slow careful deep breath the gunfighter/mechanic calmed himself and waited on Wyatt’s next words.....

Newhouse, Beylix, Jailhouse, 11:20am Day Three
Dash, of course, hadn’t missed Wyatt’s unspoken message - be ready with that iron, Sam… - and made his reply by allowing the fingers that fretfully pattered against the leather of his gunbelt drift a bit closer to the holster where his pistol waited. After acknowledging Wyatt, he turned an eye in Wolf’s direction to pass the warning along. One corner of his mouth twitched when he noted the big grease-monkey had already taken a bit of initiative where that was concerned. Good eye, puhn yoh, the pilot nodded faintly as his gaze turned away from Wolf and panned over the others in the room, again, Gorram glad ya still got that sense about ya… seems as we find ourse’fs in situations like this fairly regular an’…
“…I’m not really opposed to seeing you or your friend leaving my town. So why don’t you post bail for Mr. Bowman, say 500 credits?”

Sam’s eyes went wide when the sheriff made that statement; “Five hundred?!?!” He blinked in what might have been perceived as disbelief as they swung in Bowman’s direction. “Shun sheng duh gao wahn (Holy testicle Tuesday), Andy,” the pilot smirked, “who’d ya shoot? Jesus?”

“…I hope you weren’t thinking of anything heroic like, as you are armed men,” the sheriff continued, drawing Dash’s attentions back, “It would so sour the deal these fine gentlemen here are doing, and by now, my deputy has put a land lock on your ship so, you ain’t going anywhere without my blessing.”

“ Ai ya jwai leh, (s*** on my head),” the pilot exclaimed, his eyes growing even wider for an instant as they snapped back to the ‘full-of-himself-jerkwater-lawman’… it was an effort for Sam, then, to keep his hand off of his pistol… his fingers had ceased their anxious drumming on the gunbelt, his eyes had narrowed as his smirk melted into a scowl, and his mouth had gone dry… “Landlocked fer what, ya ching-wah tsao liu meng (frog-humpin’ SOB)? We ain’t done nothin’ but land on yer s#!tpile of a rock on bonafide business… You ain’t got no ruttin' call ta go an’ put Roc inna gorram corral!”

Newhouse, Beylix, Jailhouse, 11:20am Day Three
As the sheriff revealed his hand, Wyatt remained completely calm. Negotiations didn’t always start out the right way, and they could flip on a dime. The revelation that Roc was on lock down did not sit well with him, and like Sam, Wyatt could think of no reason they’d be in that situation except their affiliation with Bowman. The fairness of that particular assessment was not debatable. This was the Rim, and here, a lawman could bind for whatever reason they wanted, and there wasn’t nothing those bound by law could do about it unless the lawman was willing. And while the captain completely shared Sam’s disbelief, he remained the cool, calm, and collected negotiator. Besides, five hundred credits would break them.

“Bail at five hun’red, huh?” Wyatt resettled his hat low over his eyes. “An’ my ship locked down…why, if I didn’t know any better, Sheriff, I’d say you was holdin’ me an’ my crew as much hostage as this here innocent man. ‘Course, a man of your standin’ in the community, a man so respectable as yerself…well, you wouldn’t be doin’ nothin’ of the sort. So, I’ll be passably cordial in response; as will my crew. As fer Bowman’s situation…well, Sheriff. I’m afraid yer barkin’ up the wrong tree. I know ‘im, and I know if’n he says he’s innocent, then he’s innocent.

“Tell you what,” Wyatt drawled easily enough. “I’ll pay fifty credits. Consider it a handlin’ fee. You release Bowman, an’ we’ll shed dirt singin’ the praises o’ a fair and good lawman here on Beylix who can see further than the end o’ his nose. ‘Course, you’ll be kind enough t’ release my ship right away as well, cause you know that’s what’s good n’ proper. This here ‘Verse is filled with enough Big Bad Men…don’t need no Law joinin’ their ranks.”

Fifty credits would come from his share of things…when he had a full share again. But right then, Wyatt was watching the sheriff closely for any sign of skinning leather. If that was going to happen, the captain was about sixty-five percent sure that he’d draw just as fast, and then this situation was bound to get ugly.

Newhouse, Beylix, Jailhouse, 11:20am Day Three
Landlocked fer what, ya ching-wah tsao liu meng? We ain’t done nothin’ but land on yer s#!tpile of a rock on bonafide business… You ain’t got no ruttin' call ta go an’ put Roc inna gorram corral!” Sam asked,

Tell you what,” Wyatt drawled easily enough. “I’ll pay fifty credits. Consider it a handlin’ fee. You release Bowman, an’ we’ll shed dirt singin’ the praises o’ a fair and good lawman here on Beylix who can see further than the end o’ his nose. ‘Course, you’ll be kind enough t’ release my ship right away as well, cause you know that’s what’s good n’ proper. This here ‘Verse is filled with enough Big Bad Men…don’t need no Law joinin’ their ranks.”

As you stare at each other, waiting for someone to make a sign of backing down, the discussion of the gentlemen and the “would be” sheriff seems to be getting heated. There is some point of terms that they have become stuck on and neither side is willing to give in.

“50!” the sheriff says with a disgusted tone, “Tell you what, since I really don’t want to hold Luke here back from his destiny, I’ll let bail go for $250.”

“Not sure I’m going anywhere Sheriff.” Pearson says as he steps away from the towns folks.

“What!” The sheriff exclaims loudly, “what’s the problem?”

“We didn’t consider the travel expense for Mr. Pearson.” John Blake says with regret. “We mistakenly assumed that Mr. Pearson would cover it but he feels it should be part of the deal.’

“We are all agreed on the terms of payment with Mr. Pearson” Shem drawls regretfully, “But we didn’t consider that part of the deal.”

“Well let me cover that then Luke, as a thanks for everything you’ve done gift!” the sheriff says, “How much would it be for …” He starts to say and then turns his head and looks at Wyatt. “Oh…bother.”

Newhouse, Beylix, Emmett’s Bar, 11:30am Day Three
"James, dear, you did promise me a drink. Miss?" Willow waved gaily at the barmaid, "a bottle of your finest whiskey over here, three glasses, please!"

The lady brings over a dusty bottle of premium whiskey to the table with three glasses, “you gonna run a tab or do you want to add to my bosom bonanza, sugar?” she asks James. With a look that is an invite with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball.

“Umm … tab please.”

“For you honey, anything. And I do mean anything.”

Benny sits himself up and opens the bottle before anyone else can grab it. He pours himself a large one and downs it fast, pausing for a moment as it travels down his throat. He then pours a large dollop into all three glasses and looks at you with bloodshot but more aware eyes, “If you don’t mind, I need food. Been a while since solid food passed my lips.”

“That would be fine by me.” James agreed, “Miss? Can we have a menu?”

Benny laughed scornfully, “Menu? Bah! Fei hua! Where’d you come from? Darla! Can we get some Bao! It’s on his tab.” He calls across the room

“Sure thing Benny.”

“Okay.” Benny downs his drink again, “So you want my lucky piece. Fine with me because it ain’t given me much luck lately. Fei-oo! But what do you want it for?”

James clears his throat, “I represent a private collector.”

“Right.” Benny says dubiously, “What’s your story lady because he doesn’t look your type and you look like your story would be a whole lot more interesting?”

“Oh…bother.”

Luck was a fickle mistress, and Wyatt was happy to be in her bed once more—even if it were for just a moment. “Price o’ passage’d be the release of Bowman into my care, Sheriff. Luke here can bunk up on Roc for the ride to his new digs once that’s resolved.”

Wyatt remained in the same stance, thumbs hooked in his belt, his hat low across his forehead, his steely eyes driving the message home.

Willow studied Benny as he gradually shook off sleep and exchanged words with James. The workman’s clothes suited him better than the shabby dinner jacket, so he wasn’t like that fellow, Arthur. No, Benny had likely always been a little down on his luck.

“What’s your story lady because he doesn’t look your type and you look like your story would be a whole lot more interesting?” Benny had turned his attention to Willow and she took a sip of the truly awful whisky to hide her astonishment. Not a man of means, former or otherwise, but clearly not stupid, and worldly enough to recognize a dressed down Companion.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by “my type” , Xiau-san, “ she laughed demurely, eyes looking down modestly before returning Benny’s direct gaze with one of her own. “But I am not “with” Jimmy here so much as I needed an escort. I’m interested in hearing about this luck piece of yours, however, it sounds interesting. How did you come by it?”

Newhouse, Beylix, Jailhouse, 11:20am Day Three
Andrew Bowman stood in the cell watching quietly as the events played out before him… he was sure that Wyatt had a little more sense than to try and shoot his way out of this situation.. he smiled slightly as he was shown to be right when Wyatt jumped on the opportunity of trading a favor for a favor.

It did seem that the Sheriff didn’t want to deal with Bowman right now, and that was fine with Andrew… he would rather be off this rock.. and if Wyatt was willing to give him a lift then that was great. He wondered if he needed anyone for his crew.. afterall.. Andrew was looking for employment.. he wondered how Wyatt would fair with him about.. he knew it was a constant reminder of his wife’s death.. and it had been for him… seeing Wyatt walk into the jail had been a shock.. followed by grief at the memories that came flooding back. He thought that maybe the memories might be too much for Wyatt… he would have to wait and see.. for now.. he stood there a slight smirk on his face and with one eyebrow raised he turned to look at the Sheriff as he pondered his own decision.

(sorry for the short post.. I will get back into it as soon as I get out of this jail been in here far too long.. seems like months! )

“Tell you what,” Wyatt drawled easily enough. “I’ll pay fifty credits. Consider it a handlin’ fee. You release Bowman, an’ we’ll shed dirt singin’ the praises o’ a fair and good lawman here on Beylix who can see further than the end o’ his nose. ‘Course, you’ll be kind enough t’ release my ship right away as well, cause you know that’s what’s good n’ proper. This here ‘Verse is filled with enough Big Bad Men…don’t need no Law joinin’ their ranks.”

To Sam, this whole situation wasn’t as much about what was right and fair as it was about being stuck dirt-side on Beylix with little more than a snowball’s chance in hell of getting back on the move and a staying a step ahead of them as had been dogging his steps through the Verse these past few years… didn’t help much that the last place that them hounds got close was this same ruttin’ rock, neither… Th’ go suh always tends ta go from bad ta worse with a quickness on Beylix, Sam mused despite his best efforts not to, I dunno why in nine kinds o’ hell I keep findin’ myself here. His eyes darted around the room, flicking from face to face and trigger finger to trigger finger. He felt the hairs on the nape of his neck prickle and one hand moved to calm the sensation as the other tentatively found its way to the grips of the pistol at his hip…

“50!” the sheriff says with a disgusted tone, “Tell you what, since I really don’t want to hold Luke here back from his destiny, I’ll let bail go for $250.”

…Regardless of the dryness that the pilot’s mouth had recently acquired, Sam couldn’t keep himself from spitting on the floor just then, and the fingers that he’d clamped around the back of his neck didn’t seem to be doing much in the way of keeping those hairs from getting all up in a tizzy, neither...

“Not sure I’m going anywhere Sheriff.” Pearson said just then, stepping away from the Frisco reps.

“What!” The sheriff exclaims loudly, “what’s the problem?”

“Ta ma duh,” Sam muttered under his breath, fingers flexing on the butt of his pistol and eyes ticking towards the door. It had seemed to Sam that, for whatever reason, the Sheriff was a might anxious to see Pearson off, and, now that it didn’t look as if such an occurrence was bound to transpire, the pilot just knew that the Sheriff would be taking out his pent up frustrations on them and Rocinante, “Wuo cao…”

“We are all agreed on the terms of payment with Mr. Pearson” Shem drawled regretfully, “But we didn’t consider that part of the deal.”

“Well let me cover that then Luke, as a thanks for everything you’ve done gift!” the sheriff said, “How much would it be for …” He started to say and then, turning his head, looked at Wyatt. “Oh…bother.”

Dash’s heretofore tight-lipped and anxious scowl melted into the beginnings of a smug grin as he realized the turn that things had taken. “Well, ain’t that a bitch,” he snickered, the hand at the back of his neck coming around to rub at a stubbled cheek. His gaze ticked from the Sheriff to Wyatt; “It’s about ruttin’ time our luck swung the other way, Cap…”

((There, gorramit! I finally finished... off to take care of the other game, now...))

Newhouse, Beylix, Jailhouse, 11:45 am, Day Three
“Right.” The sheriff says curtly as he goes through his desk for a set of keys. “Mr. Bowman. You were obviously acting in self defense and I see no reason for you to remain in custody.” he opens the door to the jail cell, “Give me a moment to find your personal effects and you can be on your way – the sooner the better.”

Luke tips his hat to the sheriff and then turns to the businessmen, “Well if that’s taken care of, I think we can sign the paperwork and be on our way. Let me just pack my stuff and meet you back here. Won’t take long - I prefer to travel light.”

The town folk and Luke take to thanking one another and signing the legal paperwork that they brought with them, filling in the details of the arrangement. The sheriff gets Andrew’s personal effects from the storage locker and gives them over to former jailbird. He then offers to serve as the witness to the agreement and joins in the signing. Once complete, the new sheriff to be leaves to make preparations, promising to be back in a half hour or so.

Deputy Weaver returns with a large package under his arm. He smiles cheerfully as he heads over to Wyatt and hands him the package. The smell strikes the captain before he can unwrap it – ham, smoked ham. Moving the brown wrapper aside, Wyatt sees that it a good size ham joint with enough meat for a couple of meals and soup thereafter. Ma will be pleased.

“Here ya go Captain, compliments of the sheriff.”

“Compliments of…” The sheriff looks up at his deputy with disbelief in his eyes, “Weaver, what did you do?”

“I did what you said! I got them a ham hock for their trip. Jin says he’ll put it on your tab.” The deputy answers bewildered.

“I said put a land lock on their…” his eye bulge, “You…I didn’t…how much…Nevermind!” the sheriff voice moves steadily up. He grabs his hat off the wall and pours himself a large glass of whiskey to quickly down. “Ken. I’m going over to see Darla zuo ai ta de pigu. When Luke returns, I want you to escort these gentlemen to their ship and see them off. If any of them delays, or wanders off the pass, I want you to shoot them. Do you understand?”

“Sure thing Sheriff.”

“I mean it Ken. Shoot them. Dead. Use as many bullets as needed.”

“Right Sheriff.”

With that the sheriff strides out of his office. He calls out, “Good day gentlemen. Please don’t take this wrong but I hope to never see any of you again – unless it is in a bodybag.” As the door slams behind him.

Ken turns back to you once the door closes, “So… more coffee?”


Newhouse, Beylix, Emmett’s Bar, 11:45am Day Three
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by “my type” , Xiau-san, “ Willow laughed demurely, eyes looking down modestly before returning Benny’s direct gaze with one of her own. “But I am not “with” Jimmy here so much as I needed an escort. I’m interested in hearing about this luck piece of yours, however, it sounds interesting. How did you come by it?”

Jimmy shoots a bewildered look at Willow as it dawns on him that things might not be as he thought they were. Benny smiles knowingly, “This piece of Goesa? This belonged to my Grandfather, or so I was told. See my father left my mother and me shortly after I was born, leaving nothing but broken promises, an old jacket and this chess piece. Neither have brought me much luck though as you can see.”

Darla arrives with the food, strategically displaying her ample bosom to Jimmy as she puts the plates on the table. “See anything else you’d like?”

“Umm. No thanks. “ Jimmy says distractedly. Benny dives into the food with the hunger of a man who hasn’t eaten for awhile. Jimmy sniffs at a bao but decides to not partake. “Mr. Xiau. How much do you want for the piece? I am prepared to pay handsomely for it.”

“Well, “He replies through a full mouth, “Are you two bidding against each other? Because if you are, I think the Lady here presents a more attractive figure.” He laughs loudly at his own joke.

“No!” Jimmy says with an edge and shoots a look at Willow that suggests he’d like her to be quiet, “It is just me making an offer.”