<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/32/Trick.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Trick Holloway<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Kansas Prairie<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>William "Trick" Holloway was a man on a mission, or at least that was what he liked to tell himself, in reality he hadn't eaten in a week and was growing hungier for more than just a hot meal. Sadler had sent him ahead to scout the area, but no one was on their trail and they hadn't done anything even remotely exciting in months.<br/><br/>Frank Miller had told the boys to remain calm that their time was coming, that Preacher always had a plan, but frankly Trick was starting to get tired of it and he knew that the others were as well, he had better strike paydirt soon or the mighty John Sadler was likely to see the wrong end of a six shooter.<br/><br/>He was six hours into his "scouting" when he saw what appeared to be signs of a small but working farm, turning back to catch the others as he saw Frank first and was told simply to find them shelter and a place to lay low. Frank had grown up in these parts and was going with Sadler to look for the remnants of what had once been the town of Millers Cove. Trick suspected that Frank had money stashed there, but didn't ask.<br/><br/>He was also told to go alone and to leave a sign for the Major and Hal if there was trouble and that they would come and help if he got into a scrap. Into a scrap? Hell Trick had been in a lot of things and never once relied on a Jonnie Reb or a kid that was too gun happy for his own good to bail him out. It was a farm for Christs sake, what would that possibly do to him other than make him bathe and put him to work for his supper.<br/><br/>Trick stopped at a creek that ran along the property, washing up as best he could, slipping into his Sunday shirt, which meant it had no holes in it, then remounted his horse and donned his hat as he looked at the farm that lay just a head.