All Part of the Job {Pavati, Dyani?}

[Sojourner]

Jake stepped calmly up onto the porch, listening to the din coming from the interior. Harsh shouts, breaking glass, banging furniture. He had been notified of the disruption in the saloon a few moments earlier, when one of the serving girls had come scurrying into the jail house to find him. She'd been quite clearly upset, gripping her skirts in white-knuckled hands and telling him breathlessly that they needed him to stop the fighting before someone was hurt. Jake unfastened his gun belt and slung it over the arm of one of the rocking chairs on the porch near the door. The last thing anyone needed was a drawn gun. Something like that could easily turn a petty dispute into something that was life or death. The sheriff knew better than to try bullying everyone into order with a drawn gun, much less a shot or two.

Jake pushed the swinging doors and slipped into the chaos. He dodged wild punches and flying debris quietly, taking more than a few men by the collar of their shirt, dragging them out of his way and giving them a hearty slap across the face before growling at them to knock it off and use a bit of sense. Eventually the sheriff got up to where he wanted to be. He stepped up onto one of the stools, and then up onto the bar, broken glass crunching beneath his boots. "Everyone stop where you are and sit your asses down!" the sheriff bellowed. It had been a while since he'd used his authority in such a manner, but it was clearly necessary.

"If you don't settle, I'll shove the whole lot of you in the jail cells until you sort it out yourselves." He was still shouting over the noise, though it seemed to have lessened a bit since his first yell. As everyone began to realize that the sheriff was here and was dead serious, they seemed to lose whatever pride and hot air had started the whole mess. For anyone who knew anything about the jail house, the threat would be even more serious. The jail house only had three small cells. If everyone in the saloon was forced into them, they'd wind up cheek by jowl like a can of sardines without hardly enough space to continue any sort of dispute.

[thorn!]

A thin line of blood bubbled from her lower-lip, running down her chin as she let out a pained cry. Dyani could already feel her skin pulling and tightening over her black eye, swelling from the impact of the soldier's fist. Her arm twisted at an awkward angle behind her back as she was forced into a corner. The side of her tan face smashed against the ragged wood of the saloon.

His power over her was too much for him and her fear only increased his amusement. A slow, rumbling laugh escaped his lips as he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. Ensuring only she could hear him over the fight.
"You can run all you want... I know what you are." His breath was hot against her skin, she could smell the whiskey on him. His navy-blue uniform reeked of it. A drunk half-smile appeared over his grizzled features as he whipped her around, pinning her to the wall by her shoulders. Dyani turned her head as he leaned in to kiss her. The soldier harshly gripped her cheeks with a single hand, forcing her to look at his scarred features. Dyani's wild eyes glowered at him with the ferocity that would match any trapped animal.

She spat in his face.

For a second he was caught off-guard. Reaching the back of his cuff to rub his eyes, she was freed for just a moment.
A moment was all it took. Dyani had twisted out of his grip and knocked the drunkard to the floor. A look of disgust and pure hatred crossed her face as she turned from him. Her ears caught the final words of the sheriff and at the threat of jail, she shuffled towards the stairs. The last thing she wanted right now was a night in the slammer.

"Get back here, redskinned harlot!" The soldier bellowed. His voice echoed far too loudly through the quieting room. Within seconds, Dyani was on him. A knife emerged from under her belt, freed from its sheath it was pointed directly at his throat. She rolled the carved antler handle in her hands. A terrifying, devilish smile played on her face as the chaos settled. Her rich accent permeated the air around them.

"If you think this makes you a man --- showing your comrades your powers over me... I am more than happy to prove you wrong."

[ Ooc: Apologies, I'm a bit rusty! xx; ]

[Molly]

Oh gods. It was far too easy to get these men riled up. All it took was a few choice words and, well, this nonsense began. Then again, Vai was pretty sure they were asking for it. The way they eyed her and that poor Native American serving girl was equivalent to asking to be socked in the nose, at least it was in her eyes. And sock a few noses she did. When the fighting first broke out, Vai was eager to be a part of the action. Swinging out with elbows, fists and legs, she had taken on any man that approached spitting insults at her one moment and then falling to the ground mumbling oaths under their breath. With every hit a thrill went up her spine, and it soon felt like she was high on the action, breathing in the fumes of alcohol and blood like it was high-grade tobacco.

With an empty whiskey bottle in hand, she had smashed one unfortunate soul over the head with it as he tried to get a grip on the tall woman. Peering over the crowd, she caught sight of many of the serving girls cowering in the corner, and saw the edge of one's dress as she rushed out of the saloon. Off to get the sheriff, she assumed, a smirk playing on her lips. She scanned the crowd, and while distracted she was socked hard in the gut. Men fell on her as she staggered, ripping her shirt, choking her with her neck-wrap, slashing out at any part of her they could see, and other such things like that. Fighting her way through the mass of men, she tried looking around again. Where had that girl gone off to?

Though she knew the woman was from another tribe, and was, unlike her, pure-blooded, she still felt a kinship with her. Both were strong-willed Native American women, and she respected her for it, even though the woman probably hadn't even acknowledged her existence more than a nod. She'd kept an eye on her when she'd first entered the bar. Ah, that felt like a lifetime ago, as a bottle whizzed past Pavati's head and smashed on the wall. That brought her back to the present, where she now looked over and saw a handsome man trot his way into the bar, a star pinned on it chest. It was rather obvious who he was. She grinned, walking past him as she watched him slap a man senseless and seat him down in a chair.

She caught sight of the woman being followed by the drunkard, and she made a face. How disgusting, the poor girl. She shoved her way through the crowd, while at the same time the man had hoisted himself onto the barn and the woman had managed to knock the drunk man down. She reached the scene as the man yelled, and she couldn't help but look up at him with a grin as the din quieted. Throw them all in the slammer, huh? She hadn't seen the prison, yet, which probably added to the reason she wasn't particularly scared of it. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she silently dared him to cuff her and take her to prison. Turning her attention back to the woman, a worried look crossed over her face. She approached, lightly tapping the crazed woman on the shoulder.

"Ehm.. Miss.. I don't think that's a particularly.. intelligent thing to do.. now that the Sheriff is standing right over there," she said softly. While not particularly terrified herself, she didn't want this woman, as strong-willed and capable as she was, to go to jail.

[Sojourner]

Sure enough, Jake's overpowering yells and his borderline arrogant demeanor as he paced the top of the bar soon found everyone more or less settled, their eyes locked on him. Well... except for some of them. He caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye and heard the drunken soldier's shout at one of the serving girls. It didn't seem to take the girl in question long at all to turn back on him and knock him to the floor. A few of the other men stirred, their tempers flaring again upon seeing the 'redskinned harlot' take on the soldier in such an insolent manner. The sheriff stepped down from his vantage point in two fluid steps from the bar to one of the stools to the floor. He moved through the crowd of men again, this time they parted to allow him through.

With hardly a word, Jake reached down to catch the serving girl by her wrist and hoist her up off of the soldier, glancing briefly at the other woman standing nearby... another native, or at least part native. He kept a careful hold of the serving girl's arm to prevent her from slashing wildly at anyone. The man she'd had pinned scrambled to his feet and moved as though to lunge for her all over again. As far as he was concerned, the sheriff wouldn't be interested in what did or did not happen to the native girl. She wasn't a proper woman or even a proper human in his mind, just a savage creature that needed to be taught better respect. Jake did move to block him however. "I believe that I asked everyone to sit and mind themselves," he growled in a low tone. "Whatever dispute you have with the lady won't be settled here and now." Still, the man stubbornly dodged to the side in an attempt to get around him. It wasn't even entirely clear what it was that Jake did to stop him, but the end result was that he was flat on his back on the floor again. "You'd do best to stay where you are, sir." His tone was condescending.

Jake turned back toward the serving girl, still gripping her wrist hard enough that it was likely uncomfortable. He merely wanted a firm idea of where that knife was in relation to himself. "I'd like to ask that you give me that knife ma'am, before this whole mess gets stirred up all over again." He reached out to take the knife, hoping that she would give it to him without too many qualms. Jake glanced back to the other woman, looking between them. "Does anyone care to explain to me just what happened?"

[thorn!]

The slur was the tipping point. With her lips pursed she gazed hard into the soldier's eyes, smiling slightly at the raw fear they held. It was only the fact that they were in a bar that kept her from actually severing that sharp little tongue of his. She was focusing on him alone, which might be the reason why she reacted so violently to a tap on the shoulder. Dyani twisted around with enough speed to make strands of her dark hair snap across her face. Poised like a snake, she readied to strike if one of his drinking buddies dare pull her away from her victim.

Much to her surprise, it was not a boozer coming to brake-up the fight. She was rather relieved to see that it was at least a face she recognized. Dyani's eyes were blank as she stared up at the woman from her position on the soldier's chest, the name escaping her. Her anger ebbed away quickly, transforming into a painful realization.
She'd threatened a white man at knife-point. A soldier, no less, in a town that already had a prejudice for believing that she was a monster.

In her mind, she felt as if she'd just proved them right.

Dyani looked at her trembling hand as the adrenaline faded from her body. Her eyes traveling back to the man, but no longer settling on his face. Instead she focused on his gold buttons, blinking rapidly as she tried to get a hold of herself. The furious gaze of other patrons fell upon her back and the painful slurs began to echo through the saloon again.

She was startled by the sudden pressure on her wrist and quickly rose to her feet, struggling at the tight grasp. Dyani's lips curled into a defiant snarl at the sheriff's request of her knife, but was honestly too tired to fight anymore.

"Just take me jail if you take it." She said softly, adverting her eyes. Angry tears burned down her cheeks, stinging the scratches they passed and rolling down like slow rivulets. It was no secret that most of the folk wanted her out of town and now they'd finally had reason. She knew well enough that without the knife she'd have no way of keeping angry customers at bay and after this incident, she was almost certain that a mob would form in the soldier's defense.
Dyani slipped the knife into her free hand, carefully holding the blade and extending the elegant antler handle towards Jake.

She was fully ashamed of herself and at Jake's questioning, she remained silent. Biting her lip, in the end it was a white man's word against a savage. Really, who was the law going to lean towards?

"You saw it, shurr...if..." the soldier slurred, unsure of how he ended up on his back again. He pushed his sweat-soaked bangs out of his eyes, squinting at Dyani and the other native girl.
"She akka...attatak... went after me."

[/size]

[Molly]

Bile rose up in the woman's throat as she stared at the Sheriff. The way he treated her, looked at her, was like that of an animal. Nothing but a beast that needed to e whipped into shape. Anger made her see red for a few moments before she breathed deep, sucking air in through her teeth as she pushed down her righteous indignation. When the Sheriff met her eyes as he grabbed the Native American woman's wrist, her eyes flashed dangerously and she fixed him with a threatening glare. She stood there rigidly, as he fought off the drunken man, and proceeded to ask for the woman's knife.

The drunken man spoke at this point, and Vai went walking up to him, casually kicking him in the side. "You boozed up son of a sleeper.. you need to shut your mouth before I do it for you," she growled, followed by the very ladylike action of spitting on him. Stupid man had it coming to him. If she Sheriff hadn'tve showed up, she wouldn'tve tried to stop the other woman from giving him a few more holes. Giving him a kick in the side with her spurs for good measure, she continued on, walking up to the Sheriff.

Reaching out, she placed on hand over the knife handle and the woman's hands. "I don't see how taking this young woman to jail for defending herself will do any good, do you, sir?" Perhaps the term 'sir' came out a bit too sarcastic or bitter to seem normal, but it was the best the woman could do at this point. "I am Pavati Madsen," she thought it more appropriate, or at least smarter, to use her father's last name. He was a solider, a pretty d**n good one at that when he wasn't raiding Native American villages, so perhaps he'd be well-known. That, and using her Native American name might not be the best idea, considering the hostile stares the men were giving the other woman. ",and I stared the bar-fight, Sir. That's all you'll get from me, until you start acting more like a gentleman and less like a savage. I mean really.. grabbing a woman's wrist so forcefully. That's something one of these idiotic drunks would do."

Oh, she knew he'd take offense at being called a savage. Perhaps that coupled with her little admission would get her drug off to jail right now, no more questions asked. No big. At least, she hoped, she'd gotten the attention placed on her now instead of the woman. She wasn't about to let her get thrown in jail for defending herself.. or for her ethnic background either. These white men.. ugh.. they made her sick. As she stood there, waiting for a reaction, she didn't break her gaze away from the Sheriff's. her expression was that of revulsion, and her eyes smoldered with suppressed rage. So far, her opinion of this made was really quite low.

[Sojourner]

They were both so skittish and quick to misjudge, like a street dog that had been kicked once too often. Jake's gaze slid from one woman to the other. The serving girl seemed to have lost her spirit and given in, while the other showed no hesitation in turning her aggression on him. Still, the sheriff didn't hardly bat an eye in response to either of them, not even when called a savage and told he was no better than another of the drunks. He'd been called much worse things in the past. That was part of what made him good at his job. He was stoic, with about the same amount of emotion as a rock... at least when he chose to be so. It meant that he was able to reason effectively and deal with matters efficiently -- and that was what he was all about... efficiency.

Jake ignored Pavati's attempt to intercept the serving girl's offered knife. He took it deftly and slipped it into his belt, the blade angled away just so. He didn't plan to keep it, he had merely wanted it to ensure that nothing took place that would later be regretted. If he could have his way, not a man in the room would have a gun or knife at hand. With the serving girl disarmed, he released her and turned his full attention to Pavati, sizing her up. She certainly wasn't the delicate type, and she looked at him with the same bitterness most natives did. And why shouldn't she? He was the man who represented the country's law, in whatever form it came hereabouts. She and her type didn't usually take well to these white men exerting their government over them.

Jake didn't bother to try explaining that he had only grabbed the girl's wrist to ensure his own safety and that of others in the bar. That likely wouldn't be considered sound enough reasoning by Pavati's standards. "You, you and you will be accompanying me back to the jail house," he announced, indicating Pavati, the serving girl she had taken upon herself to defend and finally, the pitiful lump of the soldier on the floor. "However, it don't take just one person to start a good tussle like this. Just who is it you had issue with, ma'am?" He addressed her no differently than he had the serving girl, "ma'am", with a complete lack of sarcasm or superiority. The sheriff intended to bring in just about everyone involved, not just the native girls. A good number of drunks would probably be brought in as well for just that -- being much too drunk. Jake had found that as long as he laid down the discipline good and firm for everyone, there were usually fewer issues.

[thorn!]

The soldier doubled over at the kick to the ribs, mostly silenced for the time being. He let out a few groans before turning on his side and opening the top to his flask of whiskey. He took a careful sip, but within seconds had spat it out and began retching loudly. The bitter smell quickly over-powered the booze and smoke, though nobody seemed to really notice. Those who did only migrated a few steps away, still keeping an eye on the sheriff and the three new jailbirds.
Dyani couldn't stop the wicked cackle that escaped her lips. She heard his hoarse voice utter one more jumbled sentence before finally passing out in a pool of his own vomit.

With her attention on him, the warmth of another hand surprised her. She glanced up at the other woman with a grateful, tired smile. One that looked as if it hadn't been used in a while. Pavati... she made a mental note to remember that name and somehow make this up to her. After all, it wasn't really in Dyani's nature to stand-down, but the events pertaining to this had worn her out. Trying to kill a guy really takes a lot out of you.

The knife slid out from her grip and the pressure on her wrist was released. She scooted behind her defender just as Jake addressed Pavati. His voice droned in her head, throbbing in rhythm to her pounding headache. She slid one of the tattered sleeves of her serving dress over her lip, the coarse fibers tugged over the bleeding cut and she winced a bit. Every part of her ached and she let her mind wander over the thought of jail. She'd never been there before. Threatened with it, yes, but never even stepped foot inside. Dyani sighed, believing even if the rumors were half-true, it'd still make the cold cell a safer place than the saloon. For tonight, at least...Though how long she was to be kept there remained to be seen.

[/size]

[Molly]

The street dog analogy was correct enough, at least as far as Pavati was concerned. Though she hadn't been out on her own a very long time, she'd seen enough of the 'civilized' world to realize that most people didn't welcome her existence in it. She'd been kicked around, both figuratively and literally, a good few time.. though instead of make her particularly skittish, it more made her a boiling pot of suppressed anger, just looking for a reason to overflow, the lid bursting off in the form of her fist connecting with the unfortunate offender's jaw. That stoic look on the man's face forced her to hold back, though. As much as it would please her, she didn't particularly feel like making a scene. She didn't want to be the savage that these white folks conquered up in their minds. She didn't want to give this man the pleasure of looking down on her.

That, and, as much as it pained her, she had to admit that this man was good at what he did. His mere presence demanded respect.. or at least obedience.. from the people in this town. She doubted he'd ever have that sort of effect on her, few men ever did. For now, she'd tolerate his presence, as long as he didn't push her too far. Calming herself, she adopted a smug smirk on her face, her usual expression, as she looked at the Sheriff, perfectly at eye-level with the man. Thank goodness for her height. As the man went ahead and took the knife anyway, she moved her hand to her side, thumb slipping into a belt loop. She hadn't expected any less. She watched him as he took her in, eyes moving over her body in the way typical to anyone who was first meeting the masculine woman.

Protesting, she decided, would do her no good in this situation. Neither would pulling out her trusty knife or gun. That'd probably just end up with her, or someone else getting hurt. As much as she loved to fight, she hated killing. No one needed to die today. As much as this lawman probably believed she hated him for what he was, she actually respected the law.. though some of the people who 'upheld' the law left much to be desired. So, for all intents and purposes, she would go to jail today. "Of course, Sir. I'd be more than happy to accompany you. It will be my ultimate pleasure to give you the details there," she said cheerfully, any bitterness that she may have held not evident in her voice, though a hint of sarcasm laced her words. "Let me just scrape that fine gentleman off the ground, seeing as he is an important character in this little.. fiasco."

As she turned to face the man, the bitter stench of vomit wafted into her nostrils. Oh, how very pleasant that was. "Ah. Hm. I take that back, then. I think I'll leave that man for someone else to take care of," she said, brows furrowed in disgust. Just looking at the puddle of.. various items.. made her stomach back-flip once in protest. As iron-stomached as she was, the scent and sight made her want to evacuate the building as soon as possible. She turned her attention back to the Sheriff. "Perhaps we could head out now?"

[Sojourner]

ooc: apologies for the delay and my absence!

Jake glanced around the bar, finally asking a couple of the more sober men to help cart the soldier along while he escorted the ladies. The sheriff allowed Pavati and Dyani to walk ahead of him, following along behind as they took the relatively short stroll back to the jail house. He'd be going back for anyone too drunk to have sense enough to get their asses out of the Crazy Wolf before he returned, but for now his focus was on sorting away these three, who seemed to have been the epicenter of the dispute.

Jake showed Pavati and Dyani into one cell, and had the soldier placed in a separate one out of direct sight. He didn't really care to hear them bickering back and forth or trying to strangle one another through the bars. The cells were actually not very bad, mostly because they didn't get used too often or for very long. The brick along the walls was neat, the floors were swept, and the cots provided with decent blankets. It was far from a luxury, but nowhere near being a rat-infested hell hole either.

Jake tipped his hat as he stepped back out to retrieve whatever remaining rabble rousers remained at the saloon. He spoke with the owner for a few minutes, recieving the man's gratitude for sorting matters out before it got too out of hand and property was irreparably damaged. "That native girl who works here isn't to blame beyond defending herself as I understand it," Jake reminded the owner. "She ain't in jail 'cause she done anything much wrong, but because there's still a few hot tempers around here who might just take it upon themselves to straighten her out on behalf of that drunkard soldier. I'm just sayin' don't be jumpin' to dismiss her from workin' here."

The sheriff returned to the jail house with the remaining men he had managed to catch. Some of the saloon girls and the owner himself had been more than happy to point out a few of the remaining participants. There were only three cells in the jailhouse. The men wound up relatively cramped together, while Pavati and Dyani were given rights to their own cell. Jake finally settled down at his desk in front of the lot of them and began the boring process of recording the events in a more formal report. There were several sheriffs who wouldn't even bother with this sort of thing for such a small town, but Jake was meticulous, even if he didn't really like having to write very much.