"Good sirs," Roland protested, lifting his left hand very slowly, palm out, in a placating gesture.  His right hand stayed upon his saddle-horn... not too far from his holstered pistol.

Maura had yet to extract her own weapon and she was at least possessed enough not to make a panicky grab for it now. Even then she would have had she actually thought the man in that barely opened doorway was the same man who'd tried to kill her. But she was content to let Roland do the talking.

  "We are no threat to you.  We came to warn you that we found the ferryman shot dead, back at the river.  You are the first people we've seen since coming upon the grisly scene.  We feared some outlaw may be afoot, and came to make notice of it."

"We know exactly who you both are. Now if you wanna live you will drop your weapons to the ground....slowly. I'll give ya til the count of three and then we will commence a shootin'!"  the voice sounded almost angry and certainly not bluffing.

There was just the barest of pauses then,   "ONE!"

There was the barely audible sound of a pistol hammer being cocked, ready for firing, coming from that window to the right of the doorway.

Maura's eyes bore into Roland. Both options were bad ones but one way or the other they had to do something!

At least two shooters.

They had the proverbial 'drop' on them.  Weapons already pointed and ready to fire.

Roland could try something crazy.  He could make a move, and try to outgun a boy and his Dad who were already prepared for trouble.  

He might even pull it off if he was fast, and clever, and most of all... if he was lucky.

But... no.

The brief exchange of dialogue so far did not endorse the idea that 'Dad' was their assassin.  These people were caught in some web of deception which Roland could only guess at.  But he knew this:  He wasn't going to undertake any high-risk shenanigans.  Assassins didn't give you to the count of three when they already had barrels covering your body.

Assassins just pulled their triggers and dropped those covered bodies down.

Roland held up his hands, "I'm not pulling my gun and having you shoot me because you got unsettled by a movement which you failed to interpret properly.  Come and take it out of my holster.  I won't give you cause for alarm.  There's some misunderstanding between us.  That's clear.  But if it makes you feel better to see me disarmed, then disarm me.  I won't twitch."

He sat on his horse, hands high, and waited.

An assassin would have killed him already, surely.  And good people wouldn't shoot a man down who had his hands in the air.

Hopefully he wasn't making a huge mistake.

Wayfarer

"TWO!" the stentorian voice boomed out, continuing the threatening countdown, not that it was a very fast one.

Roland held up his hands, "I'm not pulling my gun and having you shoot me because you got unsettled by a movement which you failed to interpret properly.  Come and take it out of my holster.  I won't give you cause for alarm.  There's some misunderstanding between us.  That's clear.  But if it makes you feel better to see me disarmed, then disarm me.  I won't twitch."

Maura added her voice to this dangerous face-off, "You canna be shootin' us what with us meanin' no harm to you folk!"

The dreaded 'three' did not come though.

"I'm sure you'd like that, me comin' out from cover and gettin' up close so you can make your move with that pistol. No sirree! We're in charge here now. Slowly....real slowly take your gun outta the holster with one hand and drop it right to the ground. I'll not argue this point."

Roland's gaze narrowed as he heard the renewed stipulations from within the building.

He did not like this.  He did not like it one bit.

But at the same time, he wasn't in a good position to do much about it.  

He reached very slowly to his pistol and picked it up with two fingers.  Then he held it out as far as he could to his right side before letting it go.   It thudded heavily into the ground.  Terrible way to treat a Lancaster.  That gun was a work of art.

He spared a moment to glance over his shoulder at Maura.  At least her armament was not obvious.  One of them might still have a weapon if things turned sour.

Well... sourer that they already were.

Turning forward again, he shouted, "All right.  You have disarmed a law-abiding traveler.  What is next on your agenda?"

Wayfarer

Maura let out a breath of relief when Roland decided to do the only sensible option left and removed then dropped his gun. Now she still had hers but out of sight and these folk seemed to have ignored the possibility a woman might be armed. For now she was neither going to apprise them of the fact she was armed nor attempt to pull it. She had little doubt at least the talker with the rifle would shoot her.

"All right.  You have disarmed a law-abiding traveler.  What is next on your agenda?" declared Roland.

Finally the rifle bearer emerged into open sight from behind that door. He was maybe in his late thirties, early forties, Maura ventured. He had the look of a farmer about him what with his clothing. The gun was a repeating rifle of some make, she was no expert on such things. (Roland would recognize it as a Henry rifle). He still was leveling it at them even as he showed himself.

"Now, my agenda is for you both to slowly...real slowly get off those horses. And don't try and move any closer either," the man announced.

But he had more to say, only not to them.

"Henry!  Get on over here, son!"   Maura glanced a bit and sure enough here came some teenager, the man's son. The boy couldn't be much over sixteen she was guessing. He had a revolver in his hand and a big grin on his face. Nice looking lad he was.

"Tommy, pick up the man's gun for us, huh," the father directed.

The kid was no fool, he was careful not to step between the strangers and his father leveling the rifle thus blocking a shot should they try anything. He moved quickly to bend down and scoop up the weapon.

"Look, I donna what you heard but we be law-abiding folk, the both of us. We are chasing a devil of a man who is not!" Maura announced.

"Sounds like what we heard was right. He said there might be some Irish murderess traveling with a hired gunslinger out to kill him," the farmer answered.

Maura knew what was going on now. The assassin had posed as the victim, the target, and she and Roland were now the villains of the piece.

Roland dismounted, careful as a kitten on a fencepost.

But when he heard the story behind this story, he let loose a loud and unkind 'Har!'

His body shook with a mad merriment born of anger and frustration.  "Yes indeed.  The story of every Tuesday in these parts, surely:  Irish murderesses and British gunman go chasing good innocent men cross-country so they can be killed.  Why, the newspapers must be filled with nonstop headlines to that effect."

He shook his head, "I never took the average American as particularly educated, but I assumed you lot would have the good common sense that God grants to people who work the earth in honest labor."

He glared at the farmer, "You are doing the bidding of a criminal on the run.  Are you going to murder for him, as well, or merely turn us in to the authorities?  If it's the latter, get on with it.  The sooner you get us to the law, the sooner we'll be free again.  Kalispell has a messenger service.  They can attest to who I am and what transpired there.  So maybe I'll only lose one day in the pursuit of this bloody blackguard because of you people."

Wayfarer

Maura's complaint was pretty much ignored, probably because she was a woman. Oh and apparently a murderess.

"Yes indeed.  The story of every Tuesday in these parts, surely:  Irish murderesses and British gunman go chasing good innocent men cross-country so they can be killed.  Why, the newspapers must be filled with nonstop headlines to that effect,"  Roland was plainly upset at all this nonsense.  Dangerous nonsense though. Maura let him talk.

"Pa, he's just being sarcastic is all," the boy, Henry, declared even as he now took the Lancaster from the dirt and examined, "Gosh, nice gun."

"I never took the average American as particularly educated, but I assumed you lot would have the good common sense that God grants to people who work the earth in honest labor."

The farmer glared, "Don't need no fancy education to capture some malefactors. Yer a foreigner too, ain't ya? Couple of foreigners come to our land to kill good citizens. Lucky for us, we got warned."

"You are doing the bidding of a criminal on the run.  Are you going to murder for him, as well, or merely turn us in to the authorities?  If it's the latter, get on with it.  The sooner you get us to the law, the sooner we'll be free again.  Kalispell has a messenger service.  They can attest to who I am and what transpired there.  So maybe I'll only lose one day in the pursuit of this bloody blackguard because of you people."

"I ain't no murderer. And it's too gosh durn far to take ya to the nearest town, more than half a day's hard ride," the farmer pointed out.

"Henry, you do what we planned now, son. Go ahead. I got these two covered."

"Sure Pa!" the boy then jogged out into the middle of the open ground approaching the farmhouse, stood there and raised, not his gun, but the man's Lancaster and calmly fired off three shots one right after the other into the air. An obvious signal.

The farmer smiled, "Gonna let Mr. Conley take you two on in."

Maura glanced toward Roland.  Conley? Was that their man?

Nice gun indeed, Roland thought, and probably worth as much as your farm.

He didn't say that, though.  He managed to keep his tongue for a bit as events unfolded.  But they did not appear to be unfolding in their favor.  

Finally, signal shots were fired.

That had the feel of something pre-arranged, and Roland knew of only one individual the locals could have had contact with to arrange it.

"Please tell me that is a lawman you are summoning, and not the murderer who set us up to be bushwhacked by you gullible people."

Wayfarer

"Please tell me that is a lawman you are summoning, and not the murderer who set us up to be bushwhacked by you gullible people." 

Maura already knew it was exactly the very man, a vicious killer, who they were summoning! Her mind started going over what exactly could she do and do it quickly? Once that man had a gun on them, they were doomed.

"I already tol' ya. I ain't botherin' to go inta town with you. Let Mr. Conley do it," the farmer grumped.

Maura scanned out along the skyline for any answer to the boy's shots. Sure enough there was a single figure and he wasn't even on horseback. There was a perfect reason for that too - their man had killed his horse back there. This was their prey alright only now he had them at his mercy. Well....once he got to them. There was no time left. It was do or die.

"Mister, you are going to have to shoot me then right now because I am not going to just stand here," and with that Maura took a couple of bold steps to begin moving to the right of the rifle bearing farmer.

They had both been so compliant thus far that the farmer, for all his bluster not a man used to violence or gunplay, had relaxed just a bit thinking the situation well in hand. Now though the woman was trying something! He swiveled the rifle barrel to follow her and tensed.

"Hold it right there or I will drop you, so help me God!" he threatened but did not pull the trigger - yet.

Roland thought of himself as a good person.

Or at least he was a bad person trying his best to be good.

Unfortunately, he kept finding himself in situations where good people were victims, rather than victors.  Where good behavior's only reward was a bloody death, or some other manner of injustice.  

And so, Roland found he could not be a good man, presently.

He nudged his horse in the right direction and slapped it hard to initiate a trampling.  Right over the farmer who now aimed his gun at Maura.  An innocent farmer, duped in ignorance to be an accomplice to a killer.   A farmer whose gun Roland was prepared to seize and put to quick use once the man was rendered discombobulated by the passage of Ember's substantial frame.

Hopefully, the man would live.  But it couldn't be guaranteed.

Sometimes, ignorance was lethal, and the good didn't have time to be just.