You guys got most of the references but not quite. ;)
Mild Mild West - the big ridiculous cowboy hat that Murdoch and Brax refused to wear
Anything You Can Do - George's random dark side about threatening Reginald Poundsett's life
KTG, you can't have anything even remotely close to resembling a url or it gets blocked
The roughed up boozer, Abrams, begrudgingly forged the way for the five Mounties and Murdoch through the increasingly tall and wild grasses. The convoy would have been greater but two of the men had been sent back to the barracks to maintain order during Brackenreid's continued absence. It seemed the longer the commander was in the field, the more he was taking a liking to it. Perhaps all it took to please the man was the promise of fresh blood to be spilled? Sometimes Murdoch wondered just how thin the line was between persecutor and persecuted.
"I must say," said a distinguished looking Mountie named Jasper, "that I always feel prodigiously invigorated after a hearty amount of coitus."
Murdoch raised an eyebrow at the randomness and inappropriateness of this statement but otherwise didn't react. While he had enough experience in such matters that he could agree with this assessment, this particular topic was still a bit of sore point for him. Nevertheless, he wasn't completely averse to listening to other men's stories. Though he had never heard it spoken about in such clinical terms before.
"Here we go again," muttered Brackenreid under his breath, rolling his eyes.
"In fact, I believe there are a number of health benefits to frequent and vigorous coitus," he held up a finger, "provided of course one takes the necessary precautions against a multitude of adverse afflictions ever eager to wreak havoc on one's genitals and nervous system." They started to pass through a slow moving and shallow stream. "If one were to make a graph..."
"Not the bloody graph," grumbled the Colonel.
"...with enough suitable variables, for a sufficient period of time, one would surely find that men who partook of the flesh on a regular basis would live longer than ones who denied themselves that most basic of human and earthly delights."
"Then how do you explain all those old priests?" called up one of the other men from nearer the back of the double rowed lines.
Some murmurs of assent from the Mounties. Murdoch watched as a hawk dove to catch its latest meal and hoped this conversation wouldn't blaspheme his religion or else he would have to become a part of it, and he very much wanted to avoid such a thing because when men found out that he was Roman Catholic, he oftentimes lost their trust. And this would undoubtedly make them harder to work with in the very near future.
"There are always aberrations in nature, always exceptions to the rules. But in this particular case I believe that what you perceive to be true is in fact quite the opposite. By fixating on the few one misses the larger picture."
"What the hell are you saying, Jasper?" said the same Mountie as before and Murdoch had to agree. "I never know what the hell you are talking about!"
"I'm simply saying, my dear Perkins, that if one were to consider the sample sizes of each test group and make the necessary adjustments, one would find that, on average, a typical priest does not in fact live longer than the typical male specimen."
"Ah, you're full of shite, Jasper," said Perkins dismissively.
"That may well be," chuckled Jasper good-naturedly. He paused for a moment. "What do you think, Mr. Murdoch?" Murdoch's stomach clenched painfully and he felt like he was a school boy all over again. "I am always eager to hear an outsiders perspective on my theories."
Brackenreid grinned at him sideways as they ascended an open hill. "Yes, Murdoch, don't you think a nice roll in the hay with a buxomly lass every now and then is good for the old soul?"
He thought of all the hay in the Ogden stable and of a certain young lady laying there in wait for him to claim her as his own. Murdoch swallowed hard and tried to cleanse his mind but the image persisted and became progressively more erotic by the second. "Well, I...I don't see why not."
"We're here," said Abrams when they reached the top of the hill.
Thank goodness, thought Murdoch, glad for a real distraction from the growing discomfort in his trousers.
"Can I go now?" he asked, apparently not eager to hang around for what was coming next.
"Do as you please, Abrams," said Brackenreid, "we've got no further use for you."
The haggard man instantly headed back down the hill, and would likely find his place in the saloon once more.
A small camp was set up here with many mean customers glancing their way, most with bottles in hand and guns nearby. Murdoch hadn't seen such a depressing display for weeks. He prayed he never ended up in a similar boat and also prayed that these men would find a nobler more productive path to follow.
"All right, lads," said Brackenreid as they approached, "be wary of this lot. They've got no respect for the law and will be sure to take a swing or a shot given half a chance. I don't want any of you to become the next Hodge."
Several of the biggest, meanest looking ones got up and cut off their entrance into the camp.
"Top of the mornin' to ye Brackenreid," said a squat fellow with long lank hair. "What brings ye all the way out here to our lovely digs? The missus throw ye out again? Forgot how to let the dog see the rabbit?"
A couple of the man's comrades guffawed.
"Step aside, O'Shea," commanded Brackenreid.
"I's just making polite conversation." He held out an amber bottle and shook it side to side. "Here, take a wee nip. Yer all edges and it's upsetting me boys. Ain't that right lads?"
A general murmur buzzed around haphazardly. More men had come to block their path.
"I won't ask you again," said Brackenreid, hand on his revolver.
The other Mounties followed his lead and prepared to pull out their Winchester's should the need arise. Murdoch unlatched the strap to the holster of his own trusty revolver, a well worn Smith and Wesson. He was a man of reason and intellect and preferred not to draw unless absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, violence was the usual outcome in his line of work. He had the scars to prove it, not all of which were physical.
They stared each other down for awhile and then O'Shea smirked and gestured to the lads to back off. As Murdoch and the Mounties slowly passed through the narrow opening into the camp, Murdoch made sure to observe every man's features. If the fugitives were disguised as he suspected, they could very well be any of them. But since Gillies and Perry were both fairly slight of build and most of these men were not, Murdoch was able to quickly narrow his search to just a select few.
Without warning Jasper was in his ear. "I don't believe any of these fellows are our men."
"I concur," he agreed after a moment.
It didn't take long to pass by the ratty tents and circle round the fire pit.
"Ye boys satisfied yet?" called their leader.
"Well, Murdoch?" asked Brackenreid. "Are we?"
"Not quite, Colonel," he replied, descending from his horse. While the Mounties kept watch on the rest of them, Murdoch began poking his head into every darkened tent, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He sighed when he didn't find a single clue to suggest the fugitives had ever even been here. If not here, then where? Had he perhaps been wrong about them taking the train after all? Or were they in an entirely different part of Alberta by now? Or for that matter, an entirely different country. If that was the case, he would probably never locate them.
Somewhat despondent, Murdoch got back on his horse and nodded to Brackenreid that it was time to leave. Once safely outside of the camp Brackenreid turned his horse around and addressed the unruly looking crowd at large.
"You got lucky this time, O'Shea," he boomed. "But if I ever hear about you lot terrorizing Giles' place again, or any place for that matter, you'll get another taste of the black glove. And next time I won't go so easy on you."
"I'm shiverin' in me timbers, Brackenreid," was the snarky response.
One last glare and they left the wretches to their own devices.
It was now high noon and right in the centre of Calgary a crowd had formed, encircling a man with a cart and various different sized bottles on it.
"Now what?" groaned Brackenreid, rubbing his face in consternation.
"Colonel?"
"Every time that bloody train comes in, there's always something else to deal with."
Brackenreid halted his men far enough back and off to the side so that the young, light brown haired man couldn't see them but close enough so that they could hear what he was saying.
The man held out his hands in a supplicating manner. "I stand before you a simple man, a modest man, a visionary of our time."
Jasper and Murdoch shared a look.
"This should be good," said Brackenreid, relaxing a bit in his saddle.
The man picked up a small, clear bottle from the top shelf of the cart. "I hold here the answer to life itself! A warder of death and disease! An elixir to every known ailment!"
"Highly unlikely," said Jasper.
"I'll eat my hat if that's true," said another Mountie.
"What's an elixir?" said Perkins.
This would not be the first time Murdoch had come across an opportunist making such far fetched claims to who he no doubt thought were less than educated people. Indeed, some of them seemed eager to get their hands on one of the little bottles.
They better stay away, he thought. More likely than not it's poisonous.
"You may well scoff at such a notion," continued the would be medicine man, "many have done so in the past. But they all, every last one of them," he pointed to various different people in the crowd in a deadly serious nature, "came to realize the wondrous healing properties of my elixir. Men have sought the world over for a taste of immortality. And none have succeeded. Until now. For the paltry sum of five dollars, I offer you the chance to attain everlasting life!"
"All right then, lads," said Brackenreid, "let's break this up."
The Mounties moved into view and the man looked up, smile freezing in place. The townsfolk parted so that Brackenreid could stand face to face with the man. It was then that Murdoch recognized Ruby with pen and paper in hand, making notes every few seconds. She was also standing beside an expensive looking camera, and he had little doubt that it belonged to her. Ruby noticed him too and smiled, all the strife of the previous night apparently forgiven.
"Good day, sir," the man said politely enough, though Murdoch detected a note of nervousness. The man shook the little bottle that said 'Henry's Most Extraordinary and Fantastic Elixir of Life' in front of Brackenreid's face. "Would you care to be the first to try my elixir?"
Brackenreid took it out of his hand and unstoppered it.
Henry held his hand out. "Not so hasty, sir, I must insist on payment fir-"
Brackenreid gave him a withering look and Henry held his tongue. The Colonel sniffed at the contents. "Oye, Jasper, what do you make of this?"
Jasper descended his horse too and investigated the liquid. First he sniffed it just as Brackenreid had done and then to Murdoch's disbelief, and Henry's consternation, he drank some of it.
"Now, really!" complained Henry.
"Well?" enquired the chief.
"By my estimation, sir, this is nothing more than salt water with a little vodka thrown in for good measure." Jasper made a face. "Not even very good vodka at that."
"I assure you that you are quite mistaken, sir," said Henry, smile now very forced. "My elixir is made of a whole host of holistic and rare elements that I have spent my entire adult life developing," Murdoch estimated he was about twenty-one, "and I resent the implica-"
Brackenreid gave him another withering look. "All right, then, Mr..."
"It's Higgins."
"All right then, Mr. Hibbons..."
"Higgins."
"...if you give me the full list of ingredients right this moment I won't lock you up for attempting to swindle this lot out of their life savings."
"Surely, sir," he said in a condescending tone, "you see that I cannot do that. I cannot give up my hard won secrets so easily. Put yourself in my shoes-"
"Rather not, they look pretty slimy to me."
Henry's face ticked.
"Take him away boys."
Henry looked like a cornered animal now and Murdoch knew very well what was coming. The desperate man pushed through the crowd and tried to make a break for it. Where? Murdoch didn't know considering there really wasn't anywhere to hide in town. But fear made people do strange things and the Colonel was an intimidating man.
"Stop you daft bastard!" called Brackenreid.
"Allow me, Colonel," said Murdoch, patting his lasso.
"By all means, Murdoch," said Brackenreid graciously, "he's yours."
Murdoch giddy-uped his horse in pursuit of the suspect, like he had done several times before. Henry heard his approach and began sprinting faster to nowhere. When Murdoch was closer, he retrieved his lasso, twirling it, preparing to make his take down. Just as he was about to release the rope, Henry dashed in between the butchers and the livery, effectively cutting off his attack.
Murdoch continued round to the other side of the buildings and heard a loud thump. He approached to find George and Henry scrabbling on the ground, the former attempting to subdue the latter by tying his hands behind his back with a piece of string.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Murdoch," said George pleasantly when he saw him there. Henry started slithering around like the snake he was, so George nonchalantly put him in a sleeper hold. "I'm sure you will be pleased to hear that I have completed the alterations to your suit."
Brackenreid and Jasper had come over to see what was taking so long. Ruby was also approaching, but much slower then the men owing to the fact that she was hefting her camera along.
"Bloody hell, Crabtree!" the Colonel said, shaking his head and chuckling. "Let the poor bugger breathe!"
Henry had gone limp from George's overeager assistance. George poked him a few times.
"He's not dead, is he?"
Any tighter and he would have been.
"No, Mr. Crabtree," said Murdoch, "he is still breathing."
"That's good to hear," he said. George dusted himself off and patted his stomach. "Well, I'm off to have my lunch!"
Ruby reached them then and exchanged pleasantries with the tailor who stood by as she took a photograph of the tied up and unconscious man. Without being asked, George picked up the camera with one hand and proffered the other arm to Ruby who gladly accepted it. They walked off laughing about recent events. Suddenly Murdoch desired to do very much the same thing with the other Ogden sister. And since there were no leads to follow at the moment and he too was hungry, he went in search of Julia.
George always gets his man. :p