<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/7/72/Chestnut.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Nell Robinson<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>20 May 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>after midnight<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Golden Mare<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Big Jake, Scooter, CLOSED<br/><hr/><br/>From soft bed to thin air to rock in the matter of seconds and Nell couldn't help but whimper as she was caught by the big man, with everything about him that said he could crush her without so much as a thought.  Being threatened by a man scarcely heavier than she was with a gun was nothing on being held in a vise-grip by a man that could break her in two.  Brains and brawn?  Heaven help her, but she couldn't decide which was which.  The threat in the big man's voice was enough to shake her and, her head swivelling to the sound of it, she fixed her attention there.<br/><br/>Only when she heard their destination did she squirm in the big man's grasp, letting out an alarmed squeal.  Deadman's Rest gave no quarter for the imagination and, though she had never bothered to go there but for once, she could only wonder their methods but not the end.  No one went there to live.  Even an English girl like her knew they didn't make fanciful names for Death anywhere.<br/><br/>Hell hath no fury, she was sure, but she didn't really care as she squirmed, getting herself quite infuriated in the process.  Not that she could call anything down on their heads but her own temper; they had no honor to bruise, not in this place.