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Alessandra DuMourier rises before dawn, slipping out of the tent to stretch and see just what the new day has to offer her. If she had any dreams they do not seem to weigh on the woman. Her coat is hung over her arm, leaving her shoulders exposed to the spring chill, but it doesn't seem to worry her. As she walks over to the edge of the pond she stretches, like a cat awakening from its nap. She sits by the edge of the greenish water, staring out over it with a smile on her face. There is enough light that her outline is clearly visible, leaving anyone who sees her to wonder what she is doing.

High Plains Drifter draws back the gauzy black curtain covered the carriage window and peers curiously at Alessa. He has extinguished the candles inside the cab and sits in the gloom, watching the woman.

Throughout the night, he had remained in silent meditation, his mind fixed upon a central focus; the book opened before him that he now slowly closes. For the moment, he does not interrupt the woman but merely studies her with mild interest.

Alessandra DuMourier doesn't seem to notice she's being watched as she sits,watching the sunrise over the water. If his hearing is better than average he would catch the soft melody of a song, the voice strangely familiar as it breaks the silence of the morning. It seems the blonde woman has more talents than just what he's seen so far.

Alessa smiles, music has always cleared her head, giving her a fresh perspective on things and this morning it seems as though this is just what she needs. She assumes that she is alone, both her companions asleep as the soft melodic french sweeps over the pond, believing her only audience are the swamp frogs. She brushes her hair back, the pale strands gaining a coppery hue from the rays of the sun but continues her song,letting the notes cleanse her mind from whatever weighs on her.

High Plains Drifter does not recognize the melody. Like much else in his existence, the finer details of such beauty is lost to him. He can sense rhythm and tone but the intricacies of song escape him. Listen though he might, music is stripped of its vibrancy. Everything that shimmers in this world fades away and all that he can see with his eyes is what it shall be. To live in the moment, any moment, is an adage meant for others, not for him. Without a past and unable to fully enjoy the present, there is only the future for Nicodeme Darque, bleak though it may likely be.

The frogs have returned to the pond and have begun their croaking to herald the dawn. It had been a quiet night otherwise, with only the whispering breeze through the trees to lure Alessa to sleep, along with the heady aroma of the fragrant smoke.

Alessandra DuMourier smiles to herself as the frogs commence their own song, her voice fading into the morning air. She contented herself with watching the sun slip over the horizon. She gets to her feet, stretching again as she enjoys the sunrise. She looks around and finds herself still alone, the day promises to be another one full of adventure for her and her companions and she is more than prepared for it.

High Plains Drifter slips silently from the coach but, even as he does so, the frogs fall silent once more and disappear into the waters leaving ripples across the greenish sheen that covers the surface of the pond. He walks with his usual stiff gait, cane in hand, as he approaches the opposite side of the pond from Alessa.'I trust your rest was untroubled,' he says with that same quiet assurance with which he always speak, in a voice that carries regardless of its timbre.

As if awakened by his master's voice, Edward emerges from the tent, giving Darque a fearful glance. The tall, gaunt and pallid man simply nods and the slave turns to begin gathering up the contents of the tent, folding up the blankets.

Alessandra DuMourier nods and smiles warmly "I did indeed Master Darque, I trust your night was similarly uneventful?" She stretches again as she clicks her teeth, the now familiar whinny of her horse barely audible, suggesting it had spent the night further from their camp than usual. The mysterious blonde woman shrugs her coat on, covering what little of her skin had been exposed. "I trust you have some plans for today?" she asks as she walks to join him on the other side of the pond, by now used to the aversion of the local wildlife to her companion.

High Plains Drifterseems to stare at Alessa as she walks around the banks of the pond, though it is difficult to know for certain as he still wears his shaded glasses despite the sun barely having risen into the sky.'I believe we agreed that you, Mademoiselle du Mourier, would take my driver with you back into the city to acquire the necessary provisions for the next length of our journey. I have prepared a list of my own requirements as well as those of my driver. He is illiterate, naturally, but I trust you can read well enough. You seem to be an educated woman.'

As he speaks, he reaches into the deep side pocket of his overcoat and produces a scrap of paper with various sundries listed upon including salted fish, raw bacon, tobacco, soap and lamp oil, all written in a distinctive spidery scrawl.

By this point, Edward has stacked the blankets neatly outside the tent and is pulling out the stakes one by one, appearing to mind his own business. Slaves are treated like beasts of burden or, at best, pets and not given the benefit of adequate intelligence and comprehension. However, as Alessa may know, this provides them the opportunity to overhear and understand much more than they pretend.

Alessandra DuMourier nods as she takes the list from him. "Of course I can. Consider me your personal courier for the day" she laughed as her horse appears on the edge of the clearing. She stays standing with him however, reading over the list carefully "seems ordinary and easy enough to fill, I trust you'll be staying here then?" She slipped the list into her pocket as she spoke "it shouldn't take us too long to fetch these things".

High Plains Driftertightens his lips in a vague scowl.'This is for the benefit of all involved, Mademoiselle. I send you because of the incident in the marketplace last evening. While my own striking presence was detected, yours was not and while Edward was there as well, to the eyes of most white men, all slaves appear alike. However, if, by happenstance, I am noticed, it may arouse needless conflict. Moreover, you may have noticed that I have a distinctive quality about me that attracts unwanted attention even as it invokes repulsion. The more time I spend around more common men, the more obvious the differences become and the response is not often very pleasant."

'You, on the other hand, if I may say so, are a ravishingly beautiful creature and not only does that increase the likelihood that you shall yield more favorable interactions than myself but you might even, using your particular powers of persuasion, manage to finesse advantageous bargains. I am exploiting your talents and your appearance , Mademoiselle. Surely you are not unfamiliar with such tactics.'

Rolling the tent tightly around the collapsable pole, Edward manages to fit it back into the steamer trunk, along with his blankets, dutifully setting those belonging to Alessa upon the back of her horse. Unlike his master, Edward does not seem to distress her mount with his presence.

Alessandra DuMourier simply smiled at him "if i supposed it was for any other reason my friend I would not have asked. It is also easier for me to conduct business without having to keep track of you lest you fall into some trouble". She ran her fingers through her hair, the rising sun taking its borrowed copper from her as it slipped higher in the sky. "I meant no offence I assure you, merely to keep track of everyone" she turned and walked towards her horse to set about her own preparations for the day.

High Plains Drifter does not alter his grim countenance to reflect either offence or resignation but remains the same pensive, colorless mask.

'Mademoiselle du Mourier, you have only the slightest understanding of the sort of trouble my presence often inspires,' he replies evenly. 'I do not take offense at words as they are meaningless. It is by deeds that others prove their ignorance or malice.'

He gestures to Edward, who quickly begins to pack the belongings onto the coach. 'You shall take the carriage, Mademoiselle du Mourier, as it would seem strange for my driver to be piloting an empty vehicle and he surely cannot ride upon your steed with you as that would be considered most improper, even unlawful considering our present environment. You shall find it comfortable enough and you may take your horse with you. I shall remain here.'

Alessandra DuMourier smiles again "you raise a valid point Master Darque, the last thing we need is to arouse more suspicion that we already have, as well my horse can carry more when it's not carrying myself as well". She brushed her hair away from her face and looked around "youll be safe enough here should trouble arise, unless there is anything else you need it seems fair to say we should return by the early afternoon".

High Plains Drifter does finally change his expression as his thin eyebrows raise slightly. 'It is not my safety that should concern you, Mademoiselle, of that I can assure you. I shall give you until this evening until return and, should you remain absent until morning, I shall investigate the reasons for it. Should you reconsider the terms of our arrangement and void our agreement, there shall not be any reprisals. Neither you nor my driver know anything of me that would be of consequence to others.'

Alessandra DuMourier looks to Edward and smiles "it's almost as though he expects us to take off without him don't you think?" Her soft and welcoming laugh breaks the sudden silence. "We shall return by this evening, I trust we shall not have a hard time finding what we need". She smiled at him "besides, I still owe the answer to that question you asked of me and I'm not one to skip out on such a riveting conversation".

High Plains Drifter glances at Edward, who looks to Alessa trembling and then swiftly averts his eyes, turning his back to open the door to the coach for the woman.

The pale man in the long coat and top hat stands by the pond, arm outstretched, with his gnarled hand perched upon his cane. He nods at Edward, who shudders while still holding the door.

Alessandra DuMourier secures her horse before stepping into the carriage, the whole experience feeling rather strange to her. "Well the sooner we fetch the supplies the sooner things shall return to normal and we shall be back on our way northward". She settled herself into the carriage seat and looked around, she'd never been one for enclosed spaces, but her companion had raised a valid point and appearances must be maintained.

High Plains Drifter turns away, standing silhouetted in front of the pond, as Edward climbs up onto the coach, cracks the reins and carefully guides the heavy draft horses yoked to the vehicle through the narrow aperture between the trees that leads to the road while the bandit's lighter steed trots behind, secured by a length of rope. Unless there is some sudden reason for the lead horses to bolt, their steady pace assures that Alessa's mount will be able to keep up and not risk being dragged behind the coach.

Soon, they are back upon the gravel road that leads back up over the hillock and to the open valleys where the cotton plantations stand. A low rumbling echoes in the heavens above them and Edward looks up into the sky as the massive majestic airship they had seen docked in the city the day before soars slowly but smoothly through the clouds, which crest around the hull of the ship as if they were waves upon the sea. For a time, the coach is caught under the shadow of the airship as those mighty flying vessels still use the roads and other visible landmarks to guide them over the countryside. Travel by horse or by river may be swifter in some ways but airships need not consider the terrain when making their skyward voyages.

Alessandra DuMourier sits in the carriage, peering occasionally out the window as they head towards the city. The blonde woman is not used to being told what to do and it seems that she'll have some adjusting to do if she plans to extend their partnership. She pulls the list from her coat and begins reading it over, mentally calculating the cost of each item and preparing a strategy to deal with the less than scrupulous vendors in the marketplace.

Memphis is once again alive, even at this early hour of the morning. Business resumes not long after dawn and, by the time they reach the outer limits of the city, it seems the populace has congregated upon the streets and in the marketplaces.

Though not as cosmopolitan as New Orleans, the coastal location of which ensure a steady flow of goods and services from the colonies of the Caribbean, Memphis lies near the heart of the southern states and best represents what passes for progressive society in that region. Slavery is still very much prevalent but they are more tolerant of abolitionists there, preferring to simply ignore them rather than hang them outright. Even so, a boy like Edward must be well behaved and endeavor to be invisible, seen but not heard.

Fortunately for the slave, he travels with two of the most conspicuous people he has ever seen and has little trouble hiding in their shadows when necessary. Tugging on the reins to halt the horses, Edward turns slightly in his seat and calls down to Alessa. 'Where to then, Ma'moiselle?' he asks.

The inside of the coach is roomy, large enough to set four people of her size and build, but the thinly upholstered bench is not terribly comfortable and the windows are merely opening covered by curtains. It quickly becomes stuffy with them drawn. As for any indications of the previous inhabitant, Alessa might detect a faint tangy scent, the smell of the pale man's cologne as well as the faded odor of burning candles.

Alessandra DuMourier opens the curtains and looks out before calling out to Edward "I suppose we should start with the easiest things, let's head to the main marketplace and we'll work our way from there". She looks around for a moment before smiling to herself, thinking that she might spend some of her earnings on something interesting for herself while they're here. "Just remember to stay close to me and we should be able to get this done quickly" she says, noticing the strangely familiar scent of her travelling companion. There were some things she would never understand about that man, but it was clear that he didn't mean her any harm and she certainly had no plans to run off.

'Sho'nuff, Ma'moiselle,' Edward replies more confidently, 'but, pardon my askin', Ma'moiselle, which place might dat be? I don't know this city so well, Ma'moiselle as neither me nor my master been here before.' The slave is clearly used to harsh treatment, possibly from previous owners or even Darque himself, though Alessa has not seen anything like that as yet. Still, there must be some reason for Edward to display such terror whenever his eyes fall upon the pale man in black. 'You tell me where to go, Ma'moiselle,' the young black man states, 'and I go there, quick as you please.'

Alessandra DuMourier speaks softly to him, not wanting to leave the same impression as Darque on the timid young man. "Head towards the centre of town, I will direct you from there and we shall be there in no time". She kept an eye on their location, getting ready to direct him when necessary. If she'd suspected that Darque was cruel she would have asked the moment they were alone if he in fact wanted to continue north alone together, but as she had seen no signs of cruelty she assumed the man was just more susceptible to Darque's imposing figure

Edward nods and snaps the reins. Evidently he has some skill with tending or training horses as they clearly obey him with little provocation. In fact, they almost seem eager to obey the boy.

Soon enough, the coach reaches what might be considered the center of the city, though as it is spread along the riverside, there is more than one place where merchants may congregate. The grand marketplace they had previously visited remains the primary heart of commerce but, with so much merchandise being brought it from both north and south along the Mississippi River, many goods can found in other locations in the merchant district that lies in the shadows of the towering airship docks.

Recently, or so it is rumored, Memphis had gained a contract to build a naval shipyard upon the river, yet another indication of hostilities between the states. However, the war to which Darque earlier alluded is likely the conflict currently being fought in the West, against the Spanish controlled nation of Mexico, vying for a number of territories in that desert region. 'Is this good nuff, Ma'moiselle?' Edward asks, doing his best to sound as far from impertinent as possible.

Alessandra DuMourier looks around for a moment before answering "this is perfect Edward thank you, we should be able to find everything on this list in this area". She once again slipped the list in her pocket, noting that her companion had very neat writing for a man. "Well this should certainly be an interesting experience

Alessandra DuMourier laughed "never had someone to watch out for besides myself before. what do you say we get started?"

'You sho' you don' wan' me to stay with da coach, ma'moiselle?' Edward asks doubtfully before shaking his head.'I mean no disrespec', ma'moiselle. I just makin' a sugges'ion since Massah Darque be mighty displeased if he go missin' his carriage what he say he paid so much to buy on a count of he can' travel up da river.'

His eyes widen and he clamps his thick lips shut quickly, murmuring, 'Never min' all that, ma'moiselle. I can tie off da coach and your horse outside next to all dem others.' He gestures to a long wooden rail that runs in front of the wooden walkways along the facades of the buildings. Here, a number of horses are tied off, pawing at the dusty paving stones under their hooves. 'I expect nobody be stealin' it or nothin' but they be horse thieves everywhere, Ma'moiselle,' he explains, still watching Alessa as if any moment she will produce a whip and give him lashes.

Alessandra DuMourier looked at him kindly "if such a thing occurs I shall take the blame for it for I shall be the one at fault, although I fear he will be more displeased if we return without the supplies he's requested". She walked ahead of him, her pistol hidden from view as she scanned the merchants stalls that scattered the street in front of them. As though she can read his mind or at least interpret his look she shakes her head at him "you've no reason to fear me Edward, the worst you'll get from me is shouted at if you don't keep up. Mind you, there might be a small gift or two in it for you if you do".

Shaking his head slowly, Edward says quietly, 'I have every reason to fear every white face I see, ma'moiselle. I know it not your fault that you born like you is but so much I have lost because of white faces like yours.'He blinks and bows his head. 'I never know why it be like it be. Mebbe the spirits are angry at us because we lost our faith in them or mebbe this is a test for all of us who believe in dem.'

Looking up, but avoiding Alessa's eyes, Edward says, 'Many apologies, ma'moiselle. You don't be carin' about the troubles of some simple nigger. I keep my tongue in my head like Massah Darque tell me to do.'

Alessandra DuMourier shrugged her shoulders "perhaps we will never know, but should we speculate on such things they can drive us insane if given enough time". She turns and begins to walk through the crowd "you have no need to apologize Edward, we will reach Chicago and you shall be your own man, I will add my word to that of your master, whether I have to take you there myself or not". She led him over to a butcher's stall and began examining the goods for sale there, comparing them to the ones on the list she'd been given.

Licking his lips, seeming to struggle with his silence, Edward finally says, 'We not headed for Chicago, ma'moiselle. That jus' straight north. We goin' east to the big city. The big city o' New Yo'k.'

However, the slave quickly resumes his previous servile state when they approach the butcher, keeping his head bowed, his eyes fixed upon the ground and his shoulders slumped forward. His posture is not dissimilar to the other slaves that Alessa has seen. Some might dress in more elegant finery and walk with more poise, but none of them are free and the burden of their captivity weighs visibly upon them.

Edward merely follows along as Alessa does her shopping, speaking to her only when directly addressed and then in a hushed, soft voice

.

Alessandra DuMourier allows him his silence, moving quickly from shop to shop to pick up the things on Darque's list. As he suspected it is easier for her to use her charms to secure some better prices on certain of the items. Once the items on the list are purchased she catches two shops out of the corner of her eye. Her own earnings burning a bit of a hole in her pocket she walks over, the first is a book merchant and she scans the selection carefully, though she is not buying for herself. She selects a very old looking book, written in english as she has noticed her companion's grasp of french is elementary at best. With a smirk she hands over the coins and hides the book in her pockets. "Edward, be a dear and run these things back and start loading up, I will join you in a moment" she calls over her shoulder as she heads to examine the wares of the second merchant to catch her eye. She hands over some more of her coins and departs with 2 wrapped packages, making her way back to the carriage, her face revealing that she has clearly been up to something mischievous.

Nodding obediently, Edward, not unaccustomed to carrying heavy loads, slings the full satchels over his shoulders and carries a sack in each hand as he slowly and awkwardly shambles through the throngs of people back in the direction of the coach.

Alessandra DuMourier catches up easily, carrying the packages and the hidden book. She stops to check on her horse, slipping the packages into her saddlebags as shew waits for Edward to complete his task. "That didn't take as long as I thought it would, we should be back to camp in plenty of time" she comments, more to herself than anyone else.

However, Edward does not return for some time and soon Alessa might notice a commotion in the crowd and three men on horseback, all of them dressed not as gentlemen but in the leather vests, collared shirts and broad brimmed hats of what, in her considerable experience, must be lawmen, are making their way from different direction towards a disturbance where a man is shouting about a 'thieving nigger'. Somehow, Alessa would probably know precisely to whom he refers.

Alessandra DuMourier growls and her gun is in her hand "turn your back for 2 seconds in this damn town. He'll eat my heart or something if he ever finds out about this" she hissed as she made her way through the crowd. "What seems to be the problem here" she shouted to the horsed men, her presence oozing intimidation as she did her best to look furious.

An old man in a powder gray suit and waistcoat has seized hold of Edward by the collar of his shirt and holds him in place. Edward, weighed down by the purchased merchandise, could not break free and run even if he wished to. Meanwhile, the three lawman, one of whom is quiet slim and rather handsome, accompanied by a squat fat mustached man on another horse and a third, older grim looking fellow. When they see the woman approaching with her gun drawn, all three of them suddenly decide to fix their attention on her, likewise drawing their pistols, which include two rather heavy revolvers and a long barreled weapon that is almost like a miniature rifle. All of them are pointed at Alessa. 'Now just what do you think you're doin', missy!' the fat lawman asks sharply, a bowler cocked upon his balding head. 'What's a woman doin' with a weapon when there's an ordinance about citizens pullin' out their pistols in public, exceptin' when they wanna duel? And what stupid sonovabitch gave you a gun anyway, girlie? You gonna blow your hand clean off with that thing.' The slender man, whose has an oddly weathered but young face and dark hair streaked with gray scowls at the heavier man but nods at Alessa. 'He doesn't say it in the classiest way, ma'am. but he's right. There are laws against pullin' your gun out in this town, man or woman, unless you're asking for trouble. Now put that away and mind your business before someone gets themselves hurt.' His pale blue eyes are devoid of emotion, the eyes of a man dedicated to his duties regardless of the cost. 'Let's not get carried away, gentlemen,' the older lawman interjects to his companions before pulling open his jacket with his free hand to display a silver star badge pinned on his waistcoat. 'Sheriff's deputies, ma'am, so put away your pistol, turn your horse and mind your business before we arrest you along with this thievin' nigger here,' he says gravely. 'Yeah, I caught him carryin' all this stuff here,' the old, portly gentleman, whose clothes seem to indicate he is not of the highest station. He appears to be either a laborer or a farmer. 'He says he buys it for his master but ain't no master around and he can't produce any bills of sale for all this stuff he's carryin'.'

Around them, an audience encircles the old man and Edward and into this circle, the three deputies guide their horses to surround the hapless slave and his captor. The crowd is alive with anticipation and excitement as scenes such as these, unfortunately very common back in New Orleans, are more rare here, apparently.

"This happens to be my business" she growls as she slides her pistol back into her belt, reminding herself that if it comes down to it the ass who implied she would harm herself with it would be the first to get a bullet between his eyes, see who was hurting then. "It seems to be a misunderstanding and I am sure I can set it straight and we can all get back to our business. He is in my company, belonging to a friend of mine and is acting as my personal servant for the day" she produces the bills of sale for the goods he's carrying "apparently you cannot trust him to complete a simple task, I assure you once our business is concluded I shall deal with him myself." She carries herself like a high class woman despite her clothing and her accent seems to speak of New Orleans and refinement. "As for your ordinance, we are simply passing through on our way elsewhere and we are late setting out, so if everything seems to be in order I should like to get underway before this lazy animal makes us any later than we already are". Her blue eyes are ice cold and full of rage as she glares at the gathered crowd, her eyes resting on the man who had the bad luck to be standing in front of her at the moment. "I suggest I have sufficiently provided the evidence that this is all a misunderstanding or shall I provide the exact list written in my friend's script that will serve as further proof that things have transpired as he says?"

To someone like Edward who has never seen Alessa like this he might think she is contemplating the consequences of putting a bullet in someone's chest if it would suit her purpose. 'As for who gave me a weapon like this, that is my business and surely you know a woman such as myself should not be caught on the road unarmed, although I would be happy to demonstrate that I can in fact fire it without 'blowin my hand off'"

'Still going to have to ask you to turn over your gun, ma'am, so long as you're in the city,' the younger deputy explains as he gestures to the fat man with the bristled copper mustache, who keeps his gun trained on Alessa.It is the older deputy who urges his horse to saunter over so that he may peruse the papers Alessa claims to have.

'Let's see, gonna need all the receipts here and your ownership papers for this nigger here,' he explains calmly. 'And James, so help me, sweet Moses, if you keep tuggin' on that nigger's collar and this good woman can prove she owns him, I'm gonna let her charge you for damagin' her property.'

The old farmer immediately unhands Edward's collar. 'I was just tryin' to help, Tom,' he says, muttering.

'It's still Deputy Blake to you, Jimmy Withers, and you remember that,' the old deputy replies tersely. He turns his attention back to Alessa.

'Set them packages down right slow,' says the younger deputy to Edward, holstering his gun, while the copper haired, heavier deputy still keeps Alessa in his sights.

'You best not accidentally shoot this lovely lady here, Deputy Reynolds,' Deputy Blake suggests. 'Be a damn shame if she turned out to be the daughter of someone important.' He tips his hat at Alessa. 'If I may say so, miss, you certainly do look like you belong to quality. What's your name, ma'am?'

As he speaks, he holds out his hand for Alessa to give him the papers. Every purchase is hastily scrawled on scraps of paper along with the dollar amount. While federal notes are the currency of the land, most local purchases are done with silver or copper coins.

For his part, Edward appears terrified and exhausted, sagging under the weight of the satchels on his back. These he slides off his shoulders after setting down the two sacks.

'Get on out of here, Jimmy Withers,' the younger looking deputy snaps at the old man. 'We got this under control.'

Dutifully, the old farmer nods gruffly, glaring at Deputy Blake before waddling off into the crowd, which has begun to disperse before they also are admonished for their curiosity.

Alessandra DuMourier handed over the receipts and her gun "I'll need both of those back when our business is concluded, as for my name I am Alexandria, Alexandria Lamerelle from New Orleans". It had taken her a moment to think of an alias she hadn't used yet and one that spoke of class to top it off. "My family is well respected there and I am travelling with my friends and this man here to settle my father's affairs in New York. I'm sorry for the trouble deputy and I will certainly be happy to provide the appropriate paperwork but as I said he is not my own man he is on loan to me from my travelling companion". She cursed herself for not accepting Darque's offer to sign Edward over to her knowing he was trying to prevent such a situation as this.

"However if any harm should come to his man or to myself my friend will surely not be pleased and as his family is older and richer and much more powerful than my own, I would be afraid of crossing them more so even than my own family, but I am certain that we can sort this business out without involving him as he would certainly notify my uncle that I had been so inconvenienced and offended. My uncle is a protective man, as I am sure you would understand having a neice like myself". She steadied her horse who seemed unsteady around the strange men "forgive my horse gentlemen, the crowds you know, it unsettles him so, so if there is some way we can conclude this business quickly and with the least amount of trouble for all parties involved that would be much preferable to involving either family when such things are easily resolved". She'd turned on the charm and was buttering up that man with every ounce of it she had.

Deputy Blake raises his eyebrows and gives Deputy Reynolds a sidelong glance while the younger and as yet unknown, at least to Alessa, deputy keeps an eye on Edward. 'Ma'am, I don't know they do things in New Orleans,' Deputy Blake says, drawing out the vowels in 'Orleans' mockingly, 'but around here, it's law that you best have the bill of sale for your nigger, regardless of where you're from. You and your companion should have known this. 'I also don't much care for your tone or your threats, Miss Lamerelle. A girl like you shouldn't be traveling alone with only a thin sliver of a nigger like this for company. Where is this companion of yours anyways? A girl like you shouldn't be travellin' without an escort. Your uncle don't have no jurisdiction here in Memphis as far as I known since we ain't got no of that kind of folk around here.'

Across from Alessa, Deputy Reynolds spits on the ground, his mustache quivering. 'I'm sure your uncle would understand our need to detain you if he's a man of means as you say,' Deputy Blake, clearly the senior of the three deputies, continues. 'This kind of business is probably nothing but an oversight but wouldn't be doin' our proper duty if we didn't make sure. So I'll need you and your nigger to come along to the jailhouse.'He nods up the main street that runs between the merchant district and the waterfront, where large warehouses line the banks of the river next to the docks.

'You can write to your uncle if you like or, if he is a reasonable man as you say, maybe he wouldn't mind if the good people of Memphis bought you a riverboat ticket back down to New Orleans and you can explain to him personally what happened to his property. A man of means ain't going to lose much sleep over one filthy little nigger, now is he?'

None of them seem affected by her charms but that might be because there are a fair number of lovely young women to be found on these streets, the daughters of wealthy plantation owners, except none of them even seem to be carrying a pistol, let alone having drawn on it on three lawmen.

Edward looks helplessly from the deputies to Alessa, uncertain as to what his fate might be.

Alessandra DuMourier let out a sigh as she looked to the men "you wish me to fetch my friend then? I can do so and be back rather swiftly, he's probably got his head in a book somewhere and I'm sure I can round him up. I appreciate your concern gentlemen and I'm sure my friend will help me settle this if you allow me to fetch him". She had been hoping to keep Darque out of this and she knew he was going to be angry with her, but he was her best bet at getting either of them out of this without anyone discovering who she was. "After all, as you can tell my weapon is by no means inexpensive and should hold as collateral against my return". She turned her blue eyes on the younger deputy "you can even allow your man there to accompany me if it would set your mind at ease"

'Tell you what,' Deputy Blake says. 'I'll send one of my men to go fetch him for you while you and your nigger come back to the jailhouse while we straighten all this out, Miss Lamerelle. How does that sound to you?'

'Blake,' says the younger deputy. 'If she's offerin' collateral, maybe it would better if we just take her nigger into custody and let her go find her friend.'

'You're a funny man, Slim,' Deputy Reynolds chortles. 'This nigger looks like he's worth less than her pistol.'

'Shut your fool mouth, Coy,' the deputy called Slim retorts. 'Behave yourself in front of a lady. Didn't your mother teach you no manners when you were suckin' at her teat.'

'Yeah,' Slim quickly rejoins, 'and we don't mean as a baby so much as yesterday.' Both Slim and Deputy Blake then laugh at what is clearly an inside joke at the expense of the third man, whose thick jowls quiver as he blushes red in anger.

'Mind yourself in front of the lady, gentlemen,' Deputy Reynolds manages to sputter, despite his rage.

'Coy's right,' Deputy Blake nods, regaining his grim composure. 'So here's the deal. We take your nigger into custody with us and you go with Deputy McCoy here,' and he gestures at the youngest of the three men on horseback, 'and fetch this friend of yours and we can clear this matter up right quick. Is he staying here in the city?'

Alessandra DuMourier struggled to bite back a laugh, realizing that she'd rather put a bullet in the rest of them then have to tell her companion what had happened. "We're set up just outside town, I came back to fetch supplies rather than waste everyone's time back tracking. But if you wish me to fetch him then i shall". She looked at edward "I shall fetch Nicodeme and he will sort this all out and we'll be on our way although I can't think he'll be happy about it". She turned to mount her horse "shall we set off then? And if any harm comes to my friend's property in my absence I can assure you it will not be pleasant". She jumped into her saddle, waiting for the deputy to follow her.

Deputy McCoy tips his hat at Alessa and then nods to the two other lawmen. 'Come along then, nigger!' Deputy Reynolds bellows, twisting in his saddle to give Edward a kick in his back. 'Steady now, Coy!' snaps Deputy Blake. 'This man might be this woman's property and if you put a mark anywhere on him, I'll have you put up in the stocks and flogged! This threat is even more demeaning considering it is a punishment usually reserved for disobedient slaves. Reynolds flushes bright red again, scowling at Blake.

'Come along then, boy,' Blake says to Edward. 'Miss Lamerelle, I suggest you have your boy here put all your belongings on your horse before you ride back. You can't be leavin' 'em in the middle of the street else they get stolen. Surely you didn't think your boy could be carryin' all that back to wherever on his back now, could you?'

Edward turns his wide white eyes in confusion towards Alessa. awaiting any orders she may give.

'Put up your piece, Coy,' Deputy McCoy says wearily, 'Miss Lamerelle ain't a danger to anyone.'

"I had instructed him to do just that before your friend accosted him, but if you could allow him to do so it would be appreciated. Edward, go with them, we'll sort this out quickly". She waited until her horse was loaded, the animal still skittish of the men around her before setting off at a gallop, silently praying that Darque wouldn't blow her cover and would wait until this was settled to scream at her or whatever it was he did when he was angry. Her horse expertly manoeuvred through the crowds, hindered by the weight on his back. "dammit all" she cursed under her breath "better be as goddamned tactful as I am or we're all dead".

'Hey, wait up!' Deputy McCoy cries out, following after Alessa as she makes her way through the crowd. Her horse, while stronger and sturdier than Edward, is still somewhat burdened by the heavy load and manages a canter as opposed to a gallop, which as just as well. Otherwise, the beast might have trampled some pedestrians and caused more trouble.

'Don't be ridin' your horse at such a fast clip in the city, Miss Lamerelle,' McCoy says with a wry smile. 'You're liable to hurt someone. Don't worry about your boy. Reynolds is a bit of an asshole but Blake keeps him in line. Coy can't help bein' the way he is, seein' how his Mama still treats him like a boy, never lettin' him get married and just havin' to constantly look after her.'

He winks at Alessa. 'Don't go tellin' nobody you heard that from me. So, Miss Lamerelle, if you don't mind me askin', why ain't you folks stayin' in town? There's plenty of nice places for well to do folks like you with nice beds and even steam baths. Ever had a steam bath? Opens those pores right up.' Blushing faintly, he shakes his head as he pulls his horse alongside hers, the two of them riding briskly along the streets, people hurrying to get out of their way, with a wide lane in the center of the road to ensure their swift passage.

'Of course a woman of your breedin' and livin' in New Orleans, why, this place probably seems pretty quaint and quiet. I hear them folks down in that city get pretty rowdy.' 'Oh, by the way,' he says, pausing to extend his gloved hand to her while keeping the other with a firm hold on the reins of his horse, 'Archibald Douglas McCoy, but you can call me Deputy McCoy.' He winks again. 'Or Slim.'

"You can call me Alessa if you like, everyone at home does" she smiled as she slowed her horse to ride beside him "old habits die hard I suppose, I'm used to riding hard and fast, I ran messages for my father as I'm an only child and someone needed to help run the business when the slaves couldn't be trusted". She reined in her horse who wanted no part of the man escorting her, but obeyed her, cantering easily down the road.

"My friend has a thing for camping, not a fan of crowds and with my horse being as unsettled by large crowds as well, we felt it best to stay out in the country, Edward's a good boy though, keeps our horses in shape and well fed and watered, that's why my friend is so fond of him. We have such things back in the city, but I'm not much for them, my father raised me to learn his business so I never had much time for things. That's actually his pistol...well was...it's mine now". She brushed her hair back from her face and smiled, trying to look calm and collected "but you don't strike me as the type to like that kind of stuff either Slim, could be mistaken though"

'Alessa Lamerelle,' Deputy McCoy says with a smile. 'Why, that name sounds just like a song.' He shakes his head, pushing the brim of his hat up with a single finger. 'If I may say so, ma'am, that ain't no proper work for a good lady like yourself to be doin'. You ought to be married with lots of kids.' For a moment, his voice breaks and he turns with a wistful look in his eyes. 'Lots and lots of kids.' Shrugging off what seem to be unpleasant emotions, McCoy grins again. 'So, Miss Lamerelle, did you come by horse all the way up from New Orleans? Surely you must have taken the riverboat. Its a long ride up through some rough country, not to mention the Blonde Bandit. You must have heard about him.'

[2015/02/12]Alessandra DuMourier: "Rode the whole way Slim, not a fan of the river boats, but perhaps that's just me" she blushed a little as he mentioned kids and tried not to laugh when he mentioned the blonde bandit, rather glad that he didn't know in whose company he truly travelled. "We don't get much news of such things in the city and my uncle wouldn't have sent me if he didn't trust my companion. As for marriage and children, well maybe I just haven't met the right man yet, well rather my family hasn't found the right man for me, perhaps they hope I'll find someone on this trip to New York, or perhaps they intend to marry me off to Nicodeme, I can't speak for their intentions. But a nice young man like you, bet you have a nice girl in town there, maybe even a wife?"

'Well, now, most of what I've heard about this blonde bandit sounds like a lot of swamp stories to me, if you know what I mean, but the marshals down in Mississippi swear that its the truth.' McCoy laughs, lines crinkling around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. 'So its something like this. Supposedly there's this guy somewhere down along the border down there, up in the hill country, dresses up like a woman and robs people on the back roads. Not a lot of people, mind you, but its the dressin' up as a woman part that strikes everybody as strange. Even said he ran off with the wife of one of them rich folks what got lost on the way home and they found her a few days later.'

By now, they are on the outskirts of the city, the buildings simpler and plainer, consisting mostly of what look to be ramshackle wooden houses. Through doorways and windows, Negro children peek out to watch the pair pass. McCoy removes his canteen from his belt and takes a long swallow before offering it to Alessa.

'Now, she's alive, they say, and she's actin' all kinds of strange. Folks figure that the bandit ravished her or somethin' but she ain't actin' like she's been hurt or nothin'. As for why he dresses like a woman, I expect so people will underestimate him, thinkin' he's just a weak little girl.'

He tips his hat. 'Not to offend, Miss Lamerelle. I don't think all girls are weak. Why, I heard them savage women out on the prairie will come down on a man shriekin' and hollerin' and take his scalp just as surely as any man Injun would.' Coughing slightly, McCoy shakes his head at her last comment. 'No, ma'am, no wife. Had a nice girl down the road a spell but the life of a lawman don't pay so well so her daddy married her off to some rich fellow. Can't say as I blame him much.' He looks up at the sky introspectively. 'Pay's not so good but it's good, honest work. My daddy was a lawman and he was the bravest and best man that ever I knew.' Blinking, McCoy frowns. 'So this friend of yours, the one who owns the boy, he's your fiancee?'

Alessandra DuMourier shook her head "no he's not, he's merely a friend of my family accompanying me to prevent such trouble as befell that poor woman at the hands of the bandit. But such talk is for the swamp folk, I'm sure you'd make a lovely husband for someone some day Slim". Her voice is soft and sweet as she speaks, a far cry from the cold anger she'd displayed in the town. "I'm sure your father would be proud of you, it seems we're both destined to carry on our family business, although I can't say shipping and imports is as exciting as chasing down bandits would be. But what do I know, I'm just a girl who's spent too many years with her nose in a book". She accepted his canteen and took a sip from it, glad for the cool refreshing water inside. "But here i've gone and turned the conversation all about me again, please do continue your story".

Smiling, McCoy shakes his head. 'Oh, you don't wish to know too much about me, Miss Lamerelle. I'm just an old country boy. I've lived all my life around Memphis and I'll likely die around here before I ever get the chance to go West and see what's out there but I'd dearly love to.' 'Yes, women have no business being in finance,' he says, as if agreeing with a point that Alessa did not make. 'Nothin' wrong with reading but it can give a person all kinds of foolish ideas. Your father probably taught you all that to make up for a lack of a decent woman to give him sons. I suppose its not entirely your mother's fault but, even so, if you don't mind me sayin' it, you're gonna have trouble findin' a decent husband doin' all that thinkin'. Most men don't like a woman with too many ideas of her own. Not sayin' that it's right or fair but that it's just the way it is.'

He takes back his canteen and clips it on his belt, urging his horse to continue the quick canter as they pass out of the city limits and along the gravel road surrounded by cotton fields. Wooden fences establish the property boundaries as slaves roam between the rows, watering and turning the soil.

"And yet so it happens here I am, running my father's business, not married, reading, writing, well educated" she says as though to end that particular conversation. "I can't see the facsination with the West, but with the airships and all it is easier to go. Perhaps you should, maybe there is something out there for you or maybe even someone". She turns her head back to watch the road ahead of them, hoping her "friend" is willing to play along. "But Memphis is a nice town if you're looking for a quiet life, perhaps one day when I'm married and my father's business is secure, I'll finally get to have". She let her horse set their pace, relaxing her hold on the reins to let the beast have his head. "Never met an old country boy before, lots of city boys, old world men, lords and gentlemen, but my circle is rather restricted to my family's friends and distant relatives from Canada, but you interest me"

McCoy shakes his head. 'You need some decent money to stake a claim, build a home and find some way make a living out there,' he says with resignation in his voice. 'No, I expect I'll die here in Memphis, just like my daddy did. Oh, nothing violent. He just went in his sleep one night. Best way to go, really, nice and peaceful. Maybe if you're in town for a bit, you can come for a visit. I don't live but a short ways outside of town, up the river a bit. Nice house right on the water and even have our boat, if you like going for a sail.'

He looks around, concerned. 'Just how far outside the city did you folks make camp? Surely not past the Willard Plantation. Why, that's almost out in the wilderness and there's bears out there that would make a quick snack of a woman like you!'

A slow smile spreads across his face as her last words register with him. 'Oh, really now? Well, stay in town a spell and maybe we can-' But whatever his intentions, his horse suddenly rears up, almost throwing him from his saddle and standing there by the side of the road where he had not been moments before is Master Darque, still in his overcoat, shades and top hat, holding his cane.

'Good day, Mademoiselle,' Darque says quietly to Alessa before turning towards Slim. 'Deputy McCoy, I presume?' he asks in a rather pleased tone of voice. 'Good day to you as well.'

'Who the hell are you?' McCoy asks, struggling to maintain control over his horse, which thrashes its head in an attempt to steer her rider away from Darque. Even Alessa can feel her own mount shudder beneath her.

'Nicodeme Darque,' the pale man says casually. 'I believe you were looking for me. Did not Mademoiselle du Mourier tell you?'

Alessandra DuMourier hissed at him "only my family calls me that and you know it Nicodeme!" she pretends to look offended hoping that she can cover up his mistake. "Force of habit Slim, everyone is so used to seeing me in my uncle's company that they simply call me by his name, but I prefer my own". She glared at Darque, praying he would take a hint and fall in step with her lies. "There was some trouble in town Nicodeme, we need you to come sort it out, theyre holding father's pistol and your slave until we return". She turned her horse to face her escort "if we were staying i would find your invitation charming and perhaps even accept, but as i said in town we are already behind schedule and I must attend to my father's business in New York post haste, but perhaps if we pass this way on the ride back to New Orleans I shall remember your invitation and if time and my escort here allows, a visit may be in order".

McCoy blinks as he looks from Alessa to Darque. 'Miss Lamerelle, you know this man?'

Darque tilts his head. 'Lamerelle?' he asks coyly. 'Is that what she told you? How interesting.' There is a lengthy pause but as McCoy opens his mouth to speak, Darque interrupts. 'Mademoiselle du Mourier, I do realize you prefer your mother's maiden name but your father is a prominent man and you cannot continue to embarrass him by using that name as opposed to that which was given at birth.'

With his mouth still half open, McCoy gazes in confusion at Darque. 'Lamerelle is her uncle's name as he is the brother of her mother. As you may have noticed, she's a very head strong and willful woman who refuses to conduct herself as a proper lady but I would ask that you excuse her behavior.'

'Not, not a problem' McCoy replies as he attempts to recover control over the situation, having maneuvered his horse away from Darque and now he sits on the opposite side of Alessa. 'As Miss, uh, du Mourier said, we have some trouble with your boy and lacking the proper papers of ownership. Hate to be a bother, sir, but its the law and all.'

'But of course,' Darque answers smoothly and, with a flick of his wrist, causes a rolled up parchment to appear in his hand. 'And here it is.'

'How'd you do that?' McCoy asks in almost boyish awe. 'You one of them magic men?'

'Oh, you have no idea,' Darque demurs, 'but suffice to say, this shall prove I own young Edward. If you would care to look at it and then be so good as to accompany Mademoiselle du Mourier back into town so that she may take custody of my property and we may be on our way.' If he is upset or angered, his demeanour does not show it. In fact, he almost seems amused by the entire affair.

Taking the offered roll of parchment in his hand, McCoy unfurls it, his eyes scanning the cursive lines of script. 'It says here that his name is-' the deputy begins.

'Edionwe,' Darque finishes for McCoy. 'That would his native name. Edward is the name he chose to sound more properly American.'

_'Wait, your slave chose his own name?' McCoy asks, his eyes narrowing curiously. _

'Indeed,' Darque replies. 'It seemed such a small concession for a man whose life I intended to buy.'

'He's not a man, Mister Darque,' McCoy retorts. 'He's a nigger.'

'It's pronounced Negro,' Darque replies with a dangerous gravity to his words, 'and you may address me as Master Darque. I myself am a slave.' He pauses. 'To tradition.'

'Well,' McCoy says, clearing his throat again, appearing a bit intimidated, 'this all seems to be in order so why don't we just turn back to town and settle this matter.'

'And what of my coach?' Darque asks. 'You see, young Edward was part of that purchase. A coach is useless without a driver, after all.'

Alessandra DuMourier glared at her companion but silenced herself, pretending for once to let the men talk. She assumed that she'd already caused enough trouble for one day and was lucky he was going along with her lie she might as well shut up and let him do the talking now. "Does it really matter what you call me? You're still going to hold this whole mess over my head for the rest of my life anyway" she muttered under her breath as she turned her horse back towards town "between you and my uncle I shall never hear the end of it". She smiled at Slim "I might have to move to Memphis and change my name to live this one down!" She tried to turn this into a small joke but as she caught Darque's eye out of the corner of her own she shut up again and hung her head.

High Plains Drifter glances at Alessa but keeps his gaze fixed on McCoy. 'I don't know nothin' about a coach, Mister Darque,' the deputy answers honestly, 'but I expect if Miss du Mourier rode it into town, it must still be there.' Darque shifts his stare to Alessa and, even if she cannot see his eyes, she may know what the unspoken question must be.

Alessandra DuMourier looked up for a moment "it's safe I assure you, I may be reckless but I am not completely stupid". She started her horse off towards town, her face bright red and hidden in the collar of coat as flips it up, avoiding the gaze of her two companions. "I will explain everything later, that is if you promise not to conspire with Slim's boss to send me packing back to New Orleans" she said, knowing that he could hear her despite the distance between them.

High Plains Drifter nods in acknowledgement and rejoins coldly, 'No, you are correct. Not completely.'Shifting in his saddle as Alessa addresses Darque, McCoy waits for a lull in conversation before he says, 'So, shall we head back and get your boy and your coach? Or did you plan on staying in Memphis for awhile?' He is doing his level best to keep his eyes on Alessa and not have to look at the rather creepy gentleman whose stillness and ceaseless stare give him goose pimples. 'I shall not be remaining here,' Darque amends. 'Once I have my coach and my driver, I intend to be on my way but, as you have now realized, I do not speak for Mademoiselle du Mourier as she is quite capable of expressing herself.' 'Do you need a ride back to Memphis?' McCoy reluctantly asks Darque. 'I believe I shall meet you there,' Darque answers simply. 'It's a long walk,' McCoy replies doubtfully. 'Indeed,' Darque concedes, 'but a man in my condition could use the constitutional.' McCoy rolls his shoulders and nods. 'Then I suppose we shall see each other again soon, Mister Darque.''I relish with anticipation our next encounter,' Darque demurs.

"Not a fan of horses either" Alessa explained quietly "but if you don't think I'm a utter fool, you can ride with me". Shes still blushing furiously and attempting to avoid Darque's gaze. "We shall meet you in town I suppose" she said as she set her horse to a slow trot, allowing Slim to catch up with her. "Well, that's the single most awkward situation I've ever been party too, I do hope you'll forgive me for being stubborn about my name". She lifted her blue eyes to his and sighed "and here I thought you and I were getting along swimmingly".