<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/e/e4/Natehunter.png/437px-Natehunter.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Nathan Hunter<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Senior Deputy (Law Dogs)<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 1, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Camp Gǒu<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Margeurite, Closed<br/><hr/><br/><br/>Deputy Nate Hunter wheeled his horse to a stop, frowning at the forward camp, shielding his eyes from the sun for a moment with his hand.  The horse wheeled, skittish, at the sight of so many tents, so many people milling, hauling picks and shovels, the clatter of metal as the rail continued to extend south, inch by inch.  He frowned to himself, the sunlight reflecting off the tin badge which held no power here.  These were Kang's men, but a bounty was a bounty, and a murder in Gomorra demanded an accounting.<br/><br/>Still, the notion of being surrounded by hundreds of Chinamen made him a bit nervous.  He'd learned quickly how much the orientals of Sodom closed ranks no matter what questions were being asked.  He slid down off the horse, self consciously touching the Peacemaker at his side.  For a moment, his gaze slid to the shotgun still strapped to the saddle.<br/><br/>No.  Too much.  The enforcers that surrounded them camps likely wouldn't appreciate a swaggering entry. Nate had managed to get far further with politeness.  He plucked at his duster, a bead of sweat already forming on his brow, and stepped forward towards the camp, wondering if the sword and pistol wielding enforcers were meant to keep folks out - or in.<br/><br/>He looked over the guards, approaching one, catching a small flash of a book stuck into the man's back pocket.  He bowed his head in quick greeting, giving his best grin, a corner of his mouth arching to make the goatee look nominally rakish.<br/><br/>"My name's Nathan Hunter, I'm a Senior Deputy out of Gomorra.  I was hoping to have a word with the camp's foreman, sir."<br/><br/>He bowed his head again, only to be met with an inscrutable gaze.<br/><br/>Nate gave a small smile.  "Now, unless you're using that copy of the<em>Manchester Man</em>in your back pocket as toilet tissue, I imagine you understand every word I'm saying.  I promise, I won't haul anyone out your camp without your boss's say so, but I imagine you and he can line your pockets off the bounty on this man, and my only concern is seeing him brought to justice.  There's a seventy dollar reward.  Split two ways, that goes pretty far in the casinos in Gomorra."<br/><br/>The guard cocked his head, amused.<br/><br/>"Follow," he said tersely.  "Mr. Senior Deputy."<br/><br/>Nate gave another small smile, and a nod.  "A pleasure, Mister..."<br/><br/>The man shot him a gaze that suggested Nate had best temper off any further inquiry.  "Rooster."<br/><br/>Nate pursed his lips.  That didn't sound like any Chinese name he'd ever heard, and his puzzlement showed on his features.  The guard grabbed his crotch.  "Big Rooster."<br/><br/>Nate blinked, but held the amusement and any inappropriate comments in check.  "After you, Mr. Rooster."<br/><br/>He adjusted his jacket, shaking off the sensation he was descending into the lion's den.