This is a closed role play. 

[center][b]"Blood and Guns"

A Vampire Tale
from
The Wild Wild West[/b][/center]

The mortician stood tall, straight, and motionless as if a statue, staring toward the approaching, slowing train.  The sun at his back had nearly reached the horizon, projecting his shadow down the full length of the station's platform, only making the more than six foot tall man seem even taller yet.

He remained still as the train's locomotive and its three passenger cars passed by him.  They presented nothing of interest to him.  It was only when the first of two baggage and freight cars neared that the man turned to face the train.  Several minutes passed before the car's doors slid open, revealing -- amongst other things -- a young man standing near the end of an elegant coffin.

"Load it," the mortician called to a pair of men standing near a buckboard at the end of the platform.  The mortician watched the teamsters position their wagon at the car's opening, and at the first sign of carelessness warned, "Scratch it, and you will see not a coin!"

The young man descended from the car, presented an envelope to the mortician, and unnecessarily told the already fully aware mortician, "I am Bobby, sir.  I was told to stay with the coffin until you excused me."

"Help them," was all the mortician said, gesturing the teen toward the coffin and the men unloading the heavy item with difficulty.  Again he hollered, "Careful!"

Ten minutes later, the coffin sat atop a sturdy table in the back room of the funeral parlor.  The mortician sent the teamsters off with coins jiggling in their vest pockets and -- indicating that he wanted to open the casket -- told Bobby, "Loosen that latch there."

The teen's eyes opened wide.  With obvious nervousness he asked, "We're ... we're gonna open it?"

"Of course," the mortician said, snapping loose the levers at his end of the long box.  "You have never been to an open casket funeral?"

"I ain't never been to a funeral!" Bobby said.  "Ain't never seen a dead body neither."

With the last latch loose and Bobby backing nervously, the mortician struggled to open the heavy, one piece lid.  He stared down at the body for a moment, looking from head to toe and back with an expression of satisfaction.  He turned to look to the teen, studying him for a moment.

"Come here, young man," he demanded.  "Death is nothing to be feared of."

Bobby stepped back a bit instead, and it was only after the mortician demanded that he come forward and look upon the body that he tentatively did so.  He took in the view a little at a time.  The body inside was a male, perhaps in his mid-30s: jet black hair, fair flawless skin, sleek build, measuring over six feet in height.

"If'n he weren't dead," Bobby said, "The ladies of Willow Spring might think he was handsome, sir."

"Yes, handsome," the mortician agreed.  He gestured the boy closer, telling him, ""Come closer ... look at this."

The mortician reached both hands into the casket, but Bobby couldn't see and moved slowly closer for a better view.  When he saw the mortician with a knife in one hand, pressing the sharp edge to his forearm, he backed again, exclaiming, "What are you doing?"

The mortician sliced his arm, just a small cut but enough to caused blood to flow from the wound.  The blood dripped down into the casket, down over the dead man's face and onto his tightly closed lips.  After a dozen drops had stained the corpse's lips, the mortician pulled his arm back, turned, and went to a nearby preparation table.

"Go ahead, Bobby," he said as he wrapped his wound.  He nodded his head toward the casket, saying, "Look.  Take a look.  It's okay."

Bobby was as white as a ghost, and it was only after the mortician urged him for a second and third time to take a look that he moved back to stand near the box.  He flinched suddenly when there was movement: the dead man's lips moved, then his tongue emerged from between them to touch the drops of deep red blood upon them.

"Holy mother Mary of Christ," the shocked boy murmured, his words mixed though he didn't himself notice.  As he watched the corpse continue to lick at the drops, he started to back away again, saying, "This is the devil's work, sir."

Suddenly, the corpse's eyes flashed open.  Then as suddenly, Bobby felt the mortician's powerful hands grasping him at the shoulders, moving him back toward the casket.  And again suddenly, the dead man's wide eyes looked directly at him.  Bobby screamed but was silenced by the mortician's hand slapping over him mouth.  Pushed against the casket's edge and bent over, the last thing Bobby saw was the formerly dead man rising up from within his death box and opening his mouth wide to reveal long, sharp fangs.



As directed, the teamsters returned the next morning to retrieve the casket.  They loaded it onto their wagon yet again and delivered it to an already dug hole at the cemetery, lowering it without ever knowing that the body that had been inside it when they'd first encountered it was still back at the funeral home, regaining its strength after a week long journey that had included no nutrition.  



That evening, an hour after the sun had set, Willow Springs got its first look at its newest resident.  Vance Hamilton strode down the raised wooden walkway fronting Main Street, seeing everyone and everything without seeming to looking at anyone or anything in particular.  At 6'3", he was actually taller than the drained teen from Chicago had thought.  He was lean and slim and, as Bobby had also pointed out, handsome which gained him some looks from the passing women.  He was also armed, with a Cold Peacemaker strapped across his waist, barrel pointed out to the left, handle across his belly ready for his right hand should he need to pull.  

Vance hoped he wouldn't have to pull.  He was a trained gunslinger, but -- unlike many who were looking to make a name for themselves -- he wasn't looking for a fight or the attention that came with it.  What Vance was looking for was a steak cook rare, a glass of brandy, and the company of a woman well skilled in the arts of love making.  

He made his way into the Golden Eagle Hotel, asked for and paid for a room, then made his way to the dining room to find a table...