trouble in mind || open

[Ezekiel "Eze" McConnell]

In his mind, time moved slowly. When the sun rose and enveloped Del Fuego with heat, minutes turned into hours. He watched. Behind his passive, opium-induced mask. Watching the individuals move in and out of the town. Wherever they went was always a question to Ezekiel. What did these people do with their life? What was so charming about living the unfulfilled life of innocence? He couldn’t help but be emerged in curiosity. Hell, he wandered the streets often. Ezekiel couldn’t help but observe the townspeople with a sense of attentiveness. When he was out and about selling his so called “product” he watched eclectic groups of individuals. Some were outlaws (this was often clear). Some were wealthy. Others were just regular folk. Most, were just vagabonds. They all were living such different lives.

He very well could of been considered a lonely man but Ezekiel knew he had brought it on himself. As the months had passed in his time of living in Del Fuego he had become accustomed to familiar faces. Those of his brother’s gang, regular customers, and people about the bustling Saloon. Ezekiel had companionship. Even if he was relentless to it, he had it. It was the rapidly growing use of opium that was causing more solitude than he could ever imagine. Yet his body willed him to refrain from stopping.

Opium was irresistible. Like savoring the richest drop of gold. It was as if having no fear, no love, or no care. He had no imperfections when he was high. The waves of euphoria left him desolate, yet immersed in complete pleasure. To say the least he did not know sobriety from high. As a bootlegger and a opium fiend he was the man people came to when they wanted their problems to diminish. It always seemed to work.

Ezekiel was particularly “enlightened” upon such a day. The morning had passed deliberate. The warm colors within the sky melted into the bright beams of sunlight. From his small apartment he made his way down to the main street. It was typical of him to make his way up and down the main road. His steel blue eyes constantly scoping for some new individual that to his observations looked roguish enough. It was a tricky evaluation but as time passed he was becoming extraordinary skilled.

When a hour passed without any fluke, Ezekiel stopped in front of the Gunnery. He had for a long time wanted a good enough pistol to call his own. Business had become good for him. His wealth had been rising by the moment thanks to the help of the shady figures his brother had known. Ezekiel did not take heed to his absent expression. He paused momentarily before stepping forward onto the boardwalk, and making his way into the brightly lit room.

It had been smaller than he had anticipated. However, the rich scent of gunpowder seemed to draw him in. His interests sparked as his eyes dropped down to view the selection of new and used guns. The very surfaces of their metals radiated. He tilted his head to the side as he surveyed the neatly organized rows of guns. Winchesters, colts, and endless stock of tommy guns. He breathed, feeling the slight rise of eagerness surge within him. Today was the day.

[Angela Waters]

Her horse was breathing hard, and she almost was at that point but not quite. She had just looted a train out of state and all on her own, not that she minded. It was something she used to do just for fun. Now, however, she was doing it to prove a point. After dropping off the loot at Lewt's, no pun intended, she mounted her horse and galloped the entire way to town, clinging to the sleek stallion's neck, her cheek pressed against the heated flesh as her dark hair whipped behind her. She felt the weight of her pistol against her hip and was grateful for her horse. Even if she fell asleep and he didn't have her to guide him, he always seemed to know where to go.

Better yet, despite him being a mustang that she had gentled herself, his gait was about as smooth as they came. It was like being lulled to sleep in a cradle. Not long into the ride with the heat pounding down on her back, she began to doze off, caught in a pleasant wave of ease and security. When they neared town, he slowed his gait, much like she had instructed him to do. He was a well-oiled machine that only sought to please, assuming she took proper care of him, that is. Yawning, she sat up and rubbed her eyes, patting his neck affectionately. She murmured soft words of praise and as they neared the gunnery, she halted him and slid out of the saddle, just draping the reins over the pommel of his saddle.

He knew better than to run or misbehave. Burrowing within the over-sized jacket that she had taken from one of the gang members, she wandered into the gunnery, looking around curiously. She had an inkling that whomever owned the jacket she had...borrowed...wouldn't be too pleased with the new bullet hole but oh well, that really wasn't her problem. Shrugging off the thought, she grazed her fingertips along the sleeve of the jacket, chuckling to herself. Luckily, the bullet had only damaged the jacket, leaving her unharmed and even more fortunate was the fact her horse was used to the sound of gunfire. Coming out of her reverie, she glanced down briefly at her concealed weapon, wondering just how well the jacket hid the bulky object from view. As long as nobody was suspicious of her, all was good.

After all, it wouldn't do to have the law on her trail, especially not after what she had just done. It wasn't like she was going to rob the place or anything. All she wanted to do was buy some damned ammo. Finally, she spotted him. Could it be? No, he was probably still at the hideout, fawning over the fresh meat. At the thought, she couldn't help but roll her eyes.

He had shown such promise, too. No matter, she could still get what she desired. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be sure. Sidling beside the stranger, she surveyed him curiously. No, it wasn't Lewton, but the face was definitely reminiscent of Lewton's. Perhaps, he was a relative of Lewton's, a sibling of some sort. It was the only conclusion that made sense and if you heard hoof beats, think horses; not zebras.

Chewing on her lower lip, she turned toward the stranger and quirked a brow, crossing her arms over her ample chest, which was drowned within the fabric of the clothing she wore. "Tell me, mister, you related to Lewton, by chance?" She drawled calmly, her face the blank slate that it usually was. She was the epitome of a snake in the grass, and she didn't much care. She knew what she wanted, and she got it. "I'm a friend so no need to be gettin' hostile." She crooned, chuckling low in her throat.

[Ezekiel "Eze" McConnell]

Ezekiel’s steel blue eyes polished the metallic surface of the short barrel of the .38 caliber colt. The chamber was wide, as it was a six-shooter. Yet for as small of a hand-gun as it was, it could blow a hole through metal. His eyes narrowed just enough to fall upon a unfamiliar Smith&Wesson 1870 mo. 3. Hell, it had more spitfire than he could very well imagine. The elongated barrel drew his attention, as the mahogany handle called for a fine grip. “I reckon I’d like to hol’ this one, sir.” Ezekiel looked up at the Gunnery keeper. The man easily made his way across behind the counter and drew the gun from it’s container. “Mighty expensive gun. Hell, of a fire.” The man added. At this point of time he didn’t care about the money. He needed a fine enough gun to protect his small business, possibly even himself. As he took the gun into his hand he observed the sturdy grip, the gentle pull on the trigger, and the quality of the metal. Just about every gun depended on the quality of the metal. Ezekiel could see the defined quality in this gun.

“I like it. Don’ care much about the cost. Might you have any fine double action revolvers?” Ezekiel spoke passively. His tone of voice under the opium always seemed much more soothing when he was of sobriety. Ezekiel set the gun on the glass for the man to put away. “I reckon we have a lot. Here is a French Lefaucheux Pinfire revolver. I ‘pose you like the bigger revolvers anyhow. Here is one ya might like Merwin Hulbert & Co. Double Action Folding Hammer Revolver. Ivory handled too.” The man took it out of it’s compartment and set it on top of the glass. Gently, Ezekiel took and ran his fingers over the engraved metal. Hell of a nice gun. He could only imagine what it cost. He tugged every so gently on the hammer and cocked the barrel up towards the ceiling. Spinning it about his fingers a couple of time, he nodded. “I like it a lot. I’ll get it. Matter of fact will ya put some ammo and the holster in the sale as well?” Eagerly, the shop keeper nodded. It was a expensive sale.

As the man charged him for the revolver, Ezekiel hardly noticed a woman slip into the shop. Perhaps, the drug drowned out his senses in such a manner. Whichever way, after the sale was done he noticed her over his shoulder. She was a roughly dressed woman. In every sense it was a rare sight to see. Holding the holstered gun in one hand he turned towards the woman as she spoke to him. She looked familiar. Too familiar. However, as she asked him if he a Lewton McConnell he put the pieces together. She must of been a newly recruited member second in hand to gang that he was talking about. She was surprisingly beautiful and it stunned him that she would want to be apart of such a man infested gang. Often these days his brother asked him if he had wanted to join his gang. Ezekiel didn’t have it in him.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m his older brother, Ezekiel McConnell. I moved to town a couple of months ago. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You mus’ be Angela, am I right? Lewt spoke of you.” His accent was much lighter and less drawn out than Lewton, yet he spoke much softer. He could see why she had recognized him as being apart of the McConnell family, they were nearly twins. Since their youth they had looked like brothers. “No, no need for gettin’ hostile. I’ll agree on this. Say, were has Lewton been these days. Heard y’all went on some ‘business’, haven’t heard from him since.”

[Angela Waters]

She chuckled and brought a toothpick to her lips, chewing thoughtfully on it while trying to think of a suitable response. "I know exactly where he's at, darlin'. He found himself a new hussy and has been fawnin' over her like you wouldn't believe." She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm old news now and a few of the fellas can't stop complainin' 'bout my status in the gang. Next time they open their mouths, I'mma castrate 'em like animals." By the mischievous light in her dark gaze, it was obvious she wasn't going to do it.

Still, it was a nice thought. A man without his family jewels would certainly level the gender playing field a tad. "Please don't call me ma'am. It implies I'm a respectable woman, and I'm not but yes, I'm Angela." Well, she was honest, perhaps brutally so. Shuffling her weight slightly, she glanced out the window to look at her horse then pushed a few windblown strands of hair away from her tanned face. Her thoughts were troublesome, but you'd need to be a psychic to know it because you damned sure couldn't see past the poker face she sported so well.

For another moment she was silent. "I just got back from a solo run and figured I'd need to stock up before I took on my next job, but I almost feel bad for the poor sod whose jacket I got all torn up." She chuckled, gesturing toward the bullet hole in the billowing sleeve of the jacket she wore. A good majority of the men she had met had thought she'd perfect to fill the very role she had been trying to avoid for nearly a decade: housewife. Her methods of avoiding it were oftentimes radical and unnecessary, but she managed to get the point across. She knew her twenty-sixth birthday was quickly approaching and that her biological clock was ticking, but she didn't care or at least, she told herself she didn't. When you've lost faith in not only humanity but yourself as well, you tended to have a jaded view of almost everything society had to offer, including what some would call the 'American dream.'

She shook off the thoughts in her head or in the very least, postponed them for a later time. "He's so wrapped up in what's her face that I doubt he's thinkin' you migh' be worried 'bout him. He might not be the brightest, but he gets the job done an' in the end, that's all that matters." She observed with a shrug. Every group needed its leader and though she was good at what she did, she wasn't exactly a good example of a leader because where Lewton gave them countless verbal reprimands, she would much rather use physical punishment to get her point across. "I'll make sure he gets in touch, even if I have to use that frightening expression and tone that mothers use when scolding their children." She teased, nudging him playfully.

[Ezekiel "Eze" McConnell]

She was pretty. Much prettier than he’d expect a Les Coureur Enfer second in hand being. She had a demeanor that screamed of her own independence and strength. He could certainly see that she had proven herself to many men in her life. He listened, curious to the whereabouts of his little brother was. “Is that so? Well, ain’t the first time. I doubt will be the last either.” He shook his head, a smirk prominent upon his lips. Hell, he’d seen this before. Women in Lewton’s life never did last long, he had seen it many times before. His steel blue eyes narrowed slightly upwards to meet with Angela’s in surprised. “Well, let’s hope you really aren’t going to do anything of the sort. Like any folk ya hurt there pride by bein’ just a little better of a leader. Ol’ Lewt certainly was impressed by your skills.” He nodded respectfully.

His eyes narrowed once again once she asked him not to call him ma’am. Certainly, she was a outlaw. Even a outlaw wouldn’t allow any ‘titles’ of respect to be spoken. He took a short breath and smiled. “Alright, I understand. Angela, fine name.” It was the truth. It was rare to find an Angela wandering about Del Fuego. Or it seemed to him.

His eyes solemnly observed the tattered jacket in which she wore. He laughed in response. The jacket, from looks, had once been a heavy-duty jacket. He titled his head slightly, his long blonde hair tumbling along side his face. “Shoul’ I ask?” His fair eyebrows arched curiously. Hell, he couldn’t imagine the predicaments she had put that jacket through the course of time. He looked down at his neatly holstered revolver and package of wrapped bullets. “I suppose it must of been one hell of an adventure. By the looks of the jacket your wearing.” He looked up and smiled.

Well, she had a sense of humor. That was appeasing for their conversation. Although, quiet most of the time Ezekiel could very well pull out some sarcasm. Mostly, the opium soaked his bones just enough were it dulled his enlightenment of humor. “Lewt’s always been a sort of untamed person but always been able to take care of himself. I’m very surprised to say the least that he has found himself an old lady. Certainly glad a smart individual such as yourself is able to help out and hopefully guide him towards the right ideas. If ya know what I mean.”

He smiled, he liked this Angela. She had a wit about her that was uncommon in most people. “That will surely scare the livin’ daylights out of the fool. Just the immaculate way t’ do things when ya need to get your point across.”

[Angela Waters]

This McConnell brother was quickly taking Lewton's place in terms of the men she got along with. He seemed, in the very least, to have some intelligence, where Lewton only seemed to be motivated by sex and ego. It wasn't that she minded such things, but it did make it difficult to control if the man in question jumped from one woman to the next. A breathless fellow came into the gunnery and doubled over, putting his hands on his knees and drawing in several breaths. "Why can't ya slum it in the saloon like ya usually do, Angel?" He huffed and regained his composure, pushing his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. She rolled her eyes before looking toward him.

She placed her hands on her hips and glowered at him for all that she was worth. If looks could kill, she'd be a serial killer. "Because, idget, if I'm in the same place every time I come to town, I'mma be the world's easiest target an' then some. I prefer not to be too predictable, and ya might wanna learn by my example, unless ya wanna be put full o' holes." His face flushed with embarrassment and slowly, he shook his head before managing to recall what he had come here to tell her. "That damned horse o' yours got loose and ran off with all o' the supplies we done collected." At his words, she sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose.

She felt like she was dealing with the town idiot. "Do you have a line o' rope an' a horse?" The man nodded and she felt like slamming her head against the nearest wall. "Did it ever occur to you that you might wanna catch 'im, instead of runnin' all the way over 'ere and wastin' time? Shoot, the damned horse might already be long gone 'cause he's smarter than the lot o' ya." The man blinked as if it had just occurred to him. He didn't even utter an apology before he turned on his heel and ran off.

She wasn't overly concerned about the black steed because much like a dog, if she whistled, he came running to see what she wanted. She was more concerned that the idiot might get lost and not only would she have to whistle for the damned horse, but she'd have to go and find him. "I just got the jacket from somebody else before I left, but I think they might be more upset that I didn't ask." She mused, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. For a moment, she was silent. "The employees on the train weren't too happy and some of them were armed to the teeth." She said vaguely, shrugging her shoulders limply.

She glanced toward the man from the corner of her eye and watched him curiously. "I'm only twenty-five." She sniffed softly, playfully jabbing at his shoulder, granted she knew he hadn't met it that way but still. "'s okay, I 'ad little siblings before an' I always worried what sorta trouble they might find so rest assured, I'mma keep an eye on 'im for ya." She gave him a rather fleeting smile before ducking behind a curtain of dark hair. "He's a bit dense but from the way he turned out, I'mma take a stab and say ya'll 'ad the right sorta upbringin' and that he has his own reasons for bein' the way he is." She said softly, glancing down at the floor.

[Ezekiel "Eze" McConnell]

Ezekiel’s steel blue eyes narrowed towards the gentlemen that had thrown himself into the Gunnery. Watching in intent curiosity, he listened. Ezekiel did not react to the man’s words, instead he stood their blank. As the long moments passed heaviness drew over his eyes and he could feel the familiar surges of high take over his conscious. It was pure euphoria in those waves of high. As the days grew it seemed Ezekiel couldn’t resist it any longer. He smiled softly as he awoke from his brief high. Watching the two in front of him. She certainly was a Les Coureur Enfer member, by the looks of it. Her spiel with the heavily perspired man in front of him reminded him. As the stranger’s eyes narrowed in his direction he touched the brim of his beige hat, giving him a stout nod. The unfamiliar man just looked away and continued to talk with Angela.

As their talk ended and the stranger headed out of the door, Ezekiel turned his attention to Angela. “I reckon it isn’t easy by any means doin’ what your doin’.” He offered her a pleasant smile, one that was always beaming with sincerity. Ezekiel took a deep breath and looked down at the neatly wrapped gun. He looked back up at Angela and grinned. “It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden with outlaws. Or acted upon such a duties.” He listened as she explained the scenario of the train robbery.

He tilted his head ever so slightly as she described how the employees were armed. He couldn’t imagine himself in her position. Recollecting the days when he used to ride with his oldest brother Chester and Lewt on a string of robberies. At that time he had been so young and careless. It seemed the only way to tame his wild streak was to be exceeded by violence. “Well, seems you ran into quite the predicament. I deem it mighty heroic ya came out of it alive.” Suddenly, he could imagine Angela taking on a whole team of train employees. He smiled softly at the thought.

He laughed at her sarcasm and shook his head. “Certainly, I reckon ya are still in your very prime.” He bowed his head as he exclaimed. His eyes met once again with hers and he secretly wondered if his eyes revealed the intoxication of the drug. Perhaps, he didn’t even notice how he looked. He had seen the affects on many different individuals and their looks hadn’t been good.

He nodded solemnly. “I‘d say ya the first to know about siblings then, thank you.” Eze thought about Lewton quite a bit. Ever since their fight over Belle, things were tense after. Lewton and Ezekiel had a way of forgetting about such foolishness. They had looked after one another since their youth. “We were more fortunate than most folks, that’s the truth.” He hesitated as he thought about the slaughter of their father from Kiowa Indians. He tried not to dwell to much on the past. “So, Angela. Ar’ ya hungry? I can cook up some mean grits.”

[Angela Waters]

She peered up at him curiously, nonchalantly wrapping an arm around him. "Well, how's about you cook up your grits, and I'll see what I can whip up." She had wanted to reject his offer, but she decided against it. It'd be foolish of her to travel on an empty stomach, let alone at dark. When the rest of his words registered in her adrenaline-riddled brain, she crinkled her nose and let out a chuckle. "Naw, ain't nothin' heroic about it, an' I reckon that the employees on that train were more heroic than I ever was." She shrugged noncommittally.

It didn't bother her but in the same breath, it did. She didn't know why such a trivial thing would bother her. She knew she was putting her life in the hands of whatever fate insisted upon looking out for her. One of these days, she also knew there was a strong possibility that she'd either be caught or killed or both. The latter of the three was shockingly the most appealing. Although you wouldn't be able to tell unless you got a glimpse in her head, there was a small nugget of her conscience that wanted her to be caught and for her to pay for her crimes, not that she hadn't done anything she couldn't be forgiven for but still. If it came to protecting her own hide by killing whoever it was that as threatening her, she wasn't so sure she'd be able to take that plunge and pull the trigger.

For now, she was just going to wait and face that issue when it came time. She didn't mind beating the snot out of people, robbing them blind, and seducing married men but when it came to killing another human being, that was another matter entirely. Pushing the thought from her mind, she experimentally prodded at Eze's cheek and frowned briefly. She wanted to know this man for some reason. He didn't look down upon her because of her gender nor did he shun her for her choice in occupation but then again, maybe he knew that if he did, not only would he be a hypocrite in essence, but he'd also be shunning his own brother. "So, how'd you an' your brother wind up so different?" She queried, her gaze dropping appreciatively to the gun he held in his hands before lifting to unashamedly drink in the features of his face and finally locking on his eyes.

[Ezekiel "Eze" McConnell]

As she laced he arm around him abrupt thoughts of Belle swarmed to his hazy mind. He exhaled a long, drawn out breath as he visualized her very being. He was not in love with the woman by any means but he felt a strong connection since the day he had met her. Hell, the situation with his brother would of been enough for any man to call it quits. He just kept on pursuing her. His steel blue eyes narrowed slightly downwards towards the lovely, brunette woman that held onto him. Ezekiel wasn’t one to flirt with women. Often times he didn’t know how to react when women flirted with him. He bit his bottom lip, filled with slight angst as he watched her. He needed to let it go, just for that moment. He needed to relax, just for once in his life. He nodded as she spoke.

“Right this way, Angela.” He said, his voice dry. He opened the door of the Gunnery briskly and allowed Angela to follow him. “My ‘partment is just on top of Gunnery. So we don’t have to walk far.” He looked away as he made his way towards the set of stairs at the end of the boardwalk. He was quite for moments before he responded again. “I bet not. I’m sure they were terrified out of their minds.” He answered, his voice rising enthusiastically. He wasn’t one for changing the tone of emotion in his voice but he was slowly growing comfortable around this young woman.

As they made it to the front door of his apartment, he opened it up with a rusted skeleton key. It was dark and musty inside. Still the subtle fragrance of opium drifted through the apartment. He flushed as he realized so. Making his way to a window and opening it quickly. “Forgive me, it ain’t the finest of places. Fortunately, they just installed a lil’ wood stove.” He nodded towards the corner of the small room. He closed the door behind Angela, and pulled out a wooden chair by the window for her to sit in.

He made his way towards the other side of the room and begun preparing the grits. “Well, I suppose we turned out different ‘cause I was always the good kid and he was always the trouble maker. Not to say I turned out perfect. No, no. Lewt was always wild. He choose his lifestyle because he loved the rush ‘n it all.” He looked back at her and smiled. “Ya like eggs?” He paused and continued to work. “What made ya join his gang, if ya don’t mind me askin’.”

-- (Sorry it took me so long to reply!)

[Angela Waters]

Her eyes twinkled with mirth as she took a seat in the proffered chair. "Now there's a story I've never considered telling anybody." She mused aloud, crossing one leg over the other as she leaned back in her chair. "Well, truth be told, as shocking as it sounds, I sort of...owe your brother my life, I suppose you could say. I was wastin' away and hadn't seen much, as far as huntin' was concerned. I usually stick to the wilderness, you see, only that time it backfired on me...best damned decision I ever made." She chuckled softly, shaking her head.

For a moment, she was silent, debating her next words. "My horse brought me to the hideout just in the nick o' time and I reckon if your brother hadn't taken me in when he did, I wouldn't be sitting here now." She concluded with the smallest of smiles. Slowly, she rose and drifted toward him, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle hug. "Lord have mercy, you're makin' me hungry and ya ain't even close to bein' done.." She teased, releasing him to try to help him as best she could. She wasn't used to this sort of thing, but she'd learn, she supposed.

What other choice did she have? "I haven't had eggs since I was about sixteen. My mama used to make 'em with cheese." She recalled softly, a hint of sadness in her soft voice. "I've...been debating on leaving the gang, actually. As silly as it sounds, I only started the life to survive but now, it's getting out o' hand and as much as I like bein' in brawls, I'd like to be able to hang up the towel and maybe see about settlin' down, you know?" She dusted off her hands and shook her head, clearing the thought away.

She never really knew what had driven her to join the gang, only that it had felt right at the time. It had been the perfect opportunity to prove she didn't need a man in her life to get by. "I'm almost thirty, and I've never even considered any of it but now that I've gotten shot up and attacked by the elements, I might just change my mind. Ain't really decided yet." She gave a short peal of laughter. "Ya must think me a fool, Ezekiel." She teased, glancing toward him as that same twinkle returned to her eyes.