James: Why Marshal, I do believe I'm nearing the area where folks have reported seeing The Bear...

Marshal: Seems so. What have you been on the lookout for so far? And what do you know of Adrian Meeker, "The Bear"?

J: Man is large. Boasts of killing a bear bare-handed, though that's dubious. Regardless he traipses with a bear-fur cloak even in mid-Summer. He deals mostly in black-market ghost rock goods. So anywhere close to ghost rock manufacturing will be a likely place for him.

M: Shouldn't be a hard man to find. And yet, no one you've spoken with seems to have heard of him. Which is frustrating... You don't want to hit another dead end. No one dealing with black market ghost rock, or legitimate for that matter, knows of him.

J: Hmm... very strange. Perhaps one of these needs a bit more pressure. Bears are big, but I'm scarier.

M: In a small mining town south of the Black River line, you find a saloon very much like the Saddle Burr. A man you suspect to have shady dealings is a frequent patron, and you find him, drunken and obnoxious, trying to start a fight over a card game. His name is Fletcher.

J: I put my badge in my pocket before approaching. "You Fletcher? Seems you've had a might of bad luck. Why not set a spell? Take a break?"

M: He turns to you, bleary-eyed, and looks you up and down. "Who in the hell are you?"

J: "Name's Johnson. My employer asked me to find you. He didn't mention you'd be in.... a state. My apologies, sir."

M: With drunken bravado: "Damn right you're sorry! I don't give a shit about you or your 'employer'...so git!"

J: Moving in closer almost at a whisper. "But sir, the Baron does not enjoy being kept waiting. The booze will be here." Gestures to door.

M: His eyes widen slightly, then narrow in inebriated scrutiny. He startes at you for a moment, then spits a glob of tobacco on the ground and heads outside. You notice his hand is resting on his hip, and you see the faintest outline of a knife hidden beneath his shirt. He does not appear to be going for it right now, though.

J: I calmly follow him out, but in the blink of an eye loosen my gun (not draw) in the holster. Looking left>right for followers or lookee-loos

M: None appear. Fletcher immediately heads to the shadows on the side of the saloon and, with great surliness, asks "What?"

J: I corner him against the wall 1 arm blocking his escape the other hanging loosely near my gun. "Fletcher, Fletcher... you've been a bad boy.

M: He's taken aback by your aggression, but he doesn't seem particularly frightened. Liquid courage. "That so? Says who?"

J: "You haven't been checking in and the Baron needs a report. Where's Meeker? Baron needs him too."

M: He hesitates for a moment, then gives you a once-over again. "I don't deal with the Baron...I report to Meeker. And you ain't one of his, is you?" He snarls, and goes for his knife.

J: I skin my smoke wagon with lightning speed (Quick Draw) and place the barrel under his chin and say... "Calm yourself or you'll be drinking whiskey out of the hole in the top of your head. Where's Meeker? It's a simple question."

M: His hand freezes and his body goes rigid. Bit his lips tighten up and he stares at you defiantly. He doesn't seem willing to talk.

J: "I know about loyalty. I get it," I pull the hammer back. "But the bullet in this gun don't." I'd like to Intimidate him into talkin'.

M: Make your roll. And add a +2 for the intimidating situation.

J: That's a 5. Wait! Plus 2 for Strong Willed. 7.

M: He rolls a 1 on his Spirit roll... And finally seems to have caught up mentally. He swallows, sweating a bit under your steely gaze and says "Now listen. I don't know who you are and I don't want to. But you're gonna be a dead man if you keep askin' questions like this."

J: "I've made my peace with it, have you? Now TALK! Where's Meeker holing up?" Gun jammed deeper in the soft tissue under his chin.

M: "All right, all right! Meeker don't operate openly no more...he's learned from his boss and gone underground. But he can't stand it. Too boring. So he...goes out sometimes. Sometimes for business, sometimes for...fun. I ain't heard from him for a while, but last I heard he was talking about heading north, lookin' into some railroad business."

J: "Which road? Through Coldwater?"

M: He looks at you with an expression of puzzled amusement. "Which road? You mean which rail line? You really are clueless."

J: "Best not be jokin' with me now, Fletcher. This gun is old and doesn't like the hammer being cocked for long. Care to tempt fate some more?"

M: He grins a bit, and spits some tobacco juice at your feet. "I ain't playin'. That's you. You want Meeker? Look north. Coldwater's that boom town, right? Sure, he might head there. He don't tell me his plans, boy. But I do wish I could see you catch up with him...just to see you lookin' like the fool you are, with a tiger by the tail and no goddamn idea what to do with it. 'Which line'..." He chuckles mockingly.

J: Is there a bounty on this guy, Marshal?

M: None as you're aware of. He's small potatoes.

J: "Sleep it off." And I hit him with the butt of my gun.

M: He goes down, leaving you with more questions than answers.

J: I take his knife and toss it down the alley. Dust off my vest and step back out onto the street, tipping my hat at passersby. Makes sense... Meeker'd be interested in getting a piece of Coldwater's prime export. With the railroad coming in that seems like a natural spot for him.

M: Could be. Could also be in Denver. But Fletcher got under your skin. Is there something big that you don't know? It's an unsettling thought.

J: Do I know anyone in Denver? How far away we lookin' at there? I'd like to see if there's a contact I can check in with - maybe telegraph?

M: Maybe. It's along your route back. For now, rest a bit. Get some of that trail dust off ya. We'll pick this up in a day or so.

J: *tips hat