@AllenGies:
“Iron gets expensive out these parts.” Schmidt notes, “even if I could get the screens repaired.” The Cowboy frowns as he pulls out every silver coin he has in (**missing his?) pocket. “Depends who you buy from.”
#“That’s enough silver, Schmidt. I have decided to waive my fee for this arbitration.” (**Q: but it was Carson, not Schmidt.)
Due to your efforts throughout Lander Country (**should be County),newspapers and first-hand accounts carry the name Ren Keaton. More than a few plaques and memorials tell the truth of your tenure as Marshal. In time, half a dozen books on your life are written and published to local scholarly approval.
You leap atop its back, like a flea on a dog, as it charges the enemy. Without pause, it plows through men like a rolling boulder. The cannon (**should be plural?) have fallen silent. The enemy gathers its strength. The rail-men, virtually unscathed in all the fighting, prepare themselves for what comes next.
“Ah yes, the explosive liquid. It is not so different from the Chinese rockets and fireworks, much as a full grown boar is to (**missing a?) piglet. Master one when it is small and you shall know how to act around the other. Indeed, there is a particular tale concerning exactly that, though I fear I learned it originally (**missing in?) Mandarin.” By the time he is done with his tale, you have a feeling for the subtle things that can come (**missing from?) nitroglycerin.
“Yeah, it hasn’t been a walk in the park.” Arthur admits, rubs his head. “In the beginning I’d get these headaches and my heart would pound something fierce. But those faded pretty quick. Though, if I go without making a batch for a couple of days, I’ll get a headache again. But that always goes away once I get back to work”
#“Any side effects from making up batch after batch of nitroglycerin?” (***This choice continues to remain after choosing it)
Talking with Arthur: "We mix it up every day because it is too dangerous to transport. I mean, they tried that a couple of (**should be or?) three times.
With Yiska chapter 8: The two of you walk and talk a long while, about what needs to be understand (**should be understood?) in the days ahead.
A stack of fresh boards has been dropped off at your front door one morning. No bill, no note, just a gift out of the blue. Preston’s doing, no doubt. Especially considering the little pile of bread crumbs that litter one end of things. You set to work using the materials you purchased and soon the sturdy little office is a cozy place. Level too where the foundation had begun to sink. Just outside your office there is a canvas cover that shrouds the supplies you acquired to fix up the place. (**Q: I did not personally acquire or buy any materials that chapter, just have what Preston gave me…is that what you mean by “you acquired”?)There isn’t but a scrap of time left to do one final thing.
Ride out on a circuit of Lander county as the Marshal people expect you to be.
Practice incessantly with your guns.
Pull out your books and get to studying.
Get out in the fresh air and do things.
Go prospecting for a time.
Fix up your office.
Start clearing your land for a homestead.(**Q: I did not get land yet so should this be a choice yet?)
Fight with raiders at painted caves: “I’m good.” Miss Caraway says, closes up the breech on her double-barreled shotgun. Without pause, she slips forward through the heavy smoke, catches the raiders while they are reloading and sends a lethal rolling thunder into their midst. The enemy starts firing again. Schmidt digs out the bullet from his shoulder, flicks it aside. “I think I’ve had enough of this.” He growls. A nearby knot of raiders folds up and the rest retreat. Just like that, the chase is on. You race down tunnels and through caverns until the enemy is well scattered. When the last of the gun fire ceases, you find yourself far ahead of everything and quite alone. A crack of a pistol sounds out and a round zips past your ear. There, just down a tunnel stands a figure you know well; Hungry Snake. Just behind him two figures pause. The first of those is a lean man of twenty and some, with a pair of rimmed glasses perched upon his nose. Slick black gloves cover his hands, and his suit has a definite French flair to the cuffs as he steadies a pistol. Cufflinks of pearl gleam at his wrist and a golden chain for a pocket watch hangs loose from a pocket. The other is a young woman, her long blond hair gathered into an elegant coif and secured with an emerald stickpin. Dangling about her neck lies a monocle that nearly disappears into the ruffles of her forest green dress. A shine of silver arises from her wrists as thick bracelets shift as she too steadies a pistol; a little silver derringer that neatly fits the palm of her hand. At her waist gleams a ruby hilted dagger which she shifts down almost idly with an elbow. “I think I see a badge.” The Man notes in a very eastern accent, pushes back his glasses.“Regina?” The Woman, this Regina, raises up a monocle with a free hand, regards you.“A badge indeed, brother. Tell me, Marshal. What is your name?” “I’ll tell you.” Hungry Snake growls out. “Its Ren Sixkiller.” “Definitely not a man named Steele.” Regina sighs, glances to her brother. “Reginald, I think something must have happened to our Marshal.”
“Enough talk!”
Start firing.
I shot him."
(**all of us are Acting like i just met them but i had gone in under flag of truce to parley first and already met/talked to them, then fled when things went awry.)
Ask favor of Preston:
#“What (**What’s) all this I keep hearing about you and women?”
When talking to Andy on his death bed:“Big Indian. Hartigan called him… Hiding Shadow.” (*Should this be hungry snake? Or is he just refering to another one of Hartigan’s gang?) Andy manages, gives a shudder. All the color has fled from his features.
“An outlaw by the name of Richard Hartigan has a sizable band of men, and he will hit you like a storm.” (**When telling Hayworth of the impending doom, This choice continues to stay even after being chosen)
“Yeah. Its wrong to cuss.” Carson tosses over, “And I’m not about to give an inch on anything or anyone I find worthy.” (*Should this be unworthy?)
That said," Marshal James continues, “I’m not about to be distracted by whatever deals you might have made with the local ‘law’. The destruction of that dam was… controversial. At least until I heard reports of the flooding round these parts. Do you understand? We tin-stars have to stay together out here, read from the same page or else our book will close.” (Q:***Should he scold me for being in a relationship with Preston? Or maybe he would bring it up when I say there is a local bevy of sheriff’s deputies that would help? Thoughts?)“He does. If he trusts you enough to part with them, they’d be welcome to ride.” Marshal James agrees. “I’ll even draw up the paper work to make it all legal like for him to work in the county.”
“I imagine he’ll respect that.” She nods, “he doesn’t like owing anyone. Especially not the law in Lander County.” (Q:*I already said my intentions were that we are even once I heard from Elko, but then the next page I Have to choose another intention.)
#“I intend to make Lander County a paradise.”
#“I intend to make Lander County somewhere that no one has to fear criminals.”
#“I intend to make Lander County a place of civilized laws.”
#“I intend to make Lander County my personal fiefdom.”
#“I intend to serve my time here and then leave for greener pastures.”
#“I don’t have any plans.”
But I don’t think I can include a scene where you craft a tiny piano for it to play, let alone an audio file. 