Dresses remind Dorothy of her time spent in a brothel. She prefers a simple shirt and man's trousers that she really does take some effort to keep clean, but inevitably it has a dirt mark or stain upon her outfit somewhere soon enough.
She doesn't sport much jewelry. Just a heavy belt buckle and a small copper pendant with two tiny emeralds embedded into it. This she usually keeps tucked beneath a scarf or under her shirt.
She wears a little too much eye makeup, darkening her brown eyes. Heavy rouge colors her freckled cheeks and pale complexion. Her lips she never paints. Even when they start to get a bit chapped in the winter, she dislikes having anything on them. Her blonde hair, well overdue for a trim, is often pulled into a pony tail or a braid that starts off neat but usually ends up falling loose beneath her brown and black hat that she wears like a shield, using it to hide her expression and emotions when her 'tough girl' persona starts to slip.
If she'll let you get close enough, she often smells of horses and whiskey with a small hint of mint
Around her hips she wears a pistol belt that contains her matching set of Smith & Wesson Schofield Revolvers.
Traits & Characteristics
Distrusting - People in general are not to be trusted. Overly friendly behavior is met with immediate suspicion.
Crude - often uses unladylike language.
Ashamed of her past - not the robberies... but the time spent as a Soiled Dove
World's oldest profession at Owen Donley's Brothel in Odessa, Texas
Outlaw in Robert Baker's gang of thieves, whose hideout was in New Mexico
Slight of hand - Picking pockets or stealing a bit of candy from the penny jars... she's gotten good at not being noticed.
Lying - she can look ya in the eye and twist the truth.
Horses - avg skill level. She was taught by Sparrow Hawk, so she tends to get on and off on the 'Indian' side.
Gunslinging - though she carries two Schofield revolvers and has gotten to be a fairly decent shot, Dorothy has never actually killed anybody, even if she'll let you believe otherwise.
Aliases / Nicknames
Dotty Jackson, Angel Baker
(1851-1869) Pittsburgh, PA
(1869-1872) Odessa, TX
(1872-1875) Little Blackwater, NM
Kith & Kin
Brother - James (1845 - 1869)
Sister - Emma (1847 - ? most likely alive, though Dorothy hasn't seen her in over 6 years.)
1851 - Born in Pittsburgh, PA as the youngest of 3 children. Her father mines coal. Her mother works as a seamstress.
1854 - Father dies during the Cholera outbreak and things declined from there when their mother had trouble coping both financially and emotionally, turning to alcohol way too often, leaving Dorothy's upbringing mostly to her two older siblings. With little guidance, the young girl found herself left to her own devices more often than not, which led to minor trouble and petty thievery.
1869 - Her older brother James, tired of the coal mines, decides to head west. Dorothy, barely 17 at the time, choose to go with him. The brother and sister spent the next six months traveling slowly west, both picking up odd jobs. When funds were low, they'd sometimes resort to less than scrupulous ways of making money. Which usually meant Dorothy offering her "services" for the night and then she and James robbing him of his valuables.
This caught up to them in Texas when they unknowingly intruded upon the territory of Owen Donley, who ran several established brothels in the area. When he caught wind of this, he sent several men to put a stop to it. Which meant a bullet for James. And Dorothy was immediately added to his collection of whores, where she spent the next 3 years. Until...
1872 - The notorious outlaw Robert Baker (a.k.a. "One-Eyed Bobby") and his crew stopped for a night of fun at Donley's brothel. Bobby took a shine to Dorothy and, despite a bit of protesting from Owen Donley, took her with him, where she became one of his crew.
Spring 1875 - The bandit crew robs a train in Texas, making off with a bank transfer.
Early summer 1875 - Bounty hunters catch up with the bandits in New Mexico. One Eyed Bobby is captured. The survivors scatter.
Robert Baker (a.k.a. One Eyed Bobby) - captured in New Mexico. Hung in Texas.
Sparrow Hawk - Navajo, Bobby's right hand man - shot and killed in New Mexico
Paul Smith (a.k.a Smitty) - status: unknown, wanted in Texas
David Goller (a.k.a Bones) - killed in New Mexico
Charles Goller - status: unknown, wanted in Texas
Freddy Linch (a.k.a. Flinch) - status: unknown, wanted in Texas
Dorothy Parsons (a.k.a Angel) - status: unknown, wanted in Texas
Dorothy is currently at a crossroads in life... with Bobby dead and the bandit gang scattered, she's scared enough to try walking the straight and narrow for awhile. But she could just as easily fall in with a different gang of low-life scum.
I enjoy using dice for anything combat related. It makes thing unpredictable and exciting, even if my characters end up injured.
"Yeah," she answered eagerly. Worries of being hung could only push away the more immediate problems... like starving to death... for so long. "D'jeet yet?" she asked. Even after a few years out of Pennsylvania, the squashed together words still slipped out sometimes. But she didn't wait for an answer from Case before looking at the waitress. "Some kinda stew if ya got it? Not picky, long as it ain't too spicy..." she requested.
She looked slightly surprised at the mention of her working with the doc, though it pleased her at the same time. That was something actually respectable. And a far cry better than what she would have expected. "I ain't squeamish or nothing," she said, hoping to sell Case further on that idea. "Helped deliver a baby once too," she said, as if those two things alone somehow made her a qualified candidate for the job.
“So, I’ll trust you to come up with that name, one you like. Makes it easier to remember.”
"How about Anna, then?" She said, almost immediately. It had been the name of another girl, back at Donley's. One that Dorothy had started to consider a friend before she mixed herself up enough laudanum on Christmas day back in '71 that she didn't ever wake up again. An odd choice perhaps, but in some way she thought it might honor the girl that had helped her survive there.
"Anna Jackson... seems easy 'nuff to remember."
“The name sounds familiar. From my days in Texas.”
"I helped out him an' his boys," she said, circumventing the fact that she'd shared his bedroll as well, though that probably wasn't hard to guess. "Some cookin', some patchin' 'em up. Got pretty good with the horses too," she said. Then lowered her voice and leaned forward a bit to keep the next part from being overheard by any of the wait staff or other customers, "He robbed some Wells Fargo money in Texas and they got him not too long after in an ambush." She paused momentarily, her mouth tightening at the memory of the chaos that had been. Smitty had managed to get some of them the hell out of there, probably because the bounty hunters were only focused on Bobby and Sparrow.
"Didn't think the Pink would follow the rest 'a us this far. Guess they won't be happy til we're all hung."
"Dunno 'zactly what he knows," she said, brow furrowed in slight worry, and took the offered seat, slouching back a little, then sitting upright again. Acting ladylike required a conscious effort on her part. She didn't know what Case knew either. Maybe not quite as much as she'd thought if he was asking about her being a clerk. "Guess a new name wouldn't hurt 'til he's gone."
She met Case's eyes, trying to decide if he seemed like someone she was willing to trust her life to. Which, if she stayed here, was really what she'd be doing. At least by her way of thinking. And he couldn't help her with the warrant if he didn't have the whole story... well, most of it anyway.
"Ain't never had much of a real job 'fore," she said, seeing no need to mention the whorehouse. "You ever heard a Robert Baker? Some folks called him One-Eyed Bobby." While the name had gained some notoriety in Texas and New Mexico, she didn't know if anyone this far north would have heard of him.
Dorothy's eyes swept quickly over the marshal as they approached. The man was tall! He towered a full foot over her. And she thought he looked... rougher than his father. Not that that was a bad thing, of course. Bobby'd been about as rough as they came, after all.
She returned Case's smile with one of her own: any uneasiness she felt was carefully hidden away. She allowed him to take her hand as if she were a lady. It was rough, a bit calloused, various scratches adorned the skin and several of her cuticles were ripped ... nothing that wouldn't heal up in a few days or a week now that she wasn't lost in the wilderness. Her fingernails had been scrubbed clean in the bath earlier, but had needed to be cut very short to even them up again.
"Welcome to Whitefish, is there a first name to go with Jackson?"
"Thanks, Mr. Steelgrave. It's Dotty," she answered. Maybe he'd want her to change it to something more drastically different than her real name, but for now, she'd leave it there. It was hard enough getting used to 'Dotty'. It was not a nickname she'd ever gone by before the past few months.
"I'd still feel a bit better if it were Miss Jackson instead," she said. Despite Layton's claim that Case Steelgrave ran this town, and no doubt that he did based on what she'd seen and heard so far, she saw no reason to tempt the fates by letting everyone and their brother know exactly who she was. There was a ding Pinkerton on her tail after all. The less folks that knew, the less that could rat her out, intentionally or accidentally.
Or was it just that she didn't want the whole town to know she was a whore and a thief? Probably a bit of both.
When Layton offered her his arm, she hesitated only the briefest of moments before accepting and allowed him to escort her to the café, pushing down a small flutter of nerves. No doubt Case Steelgrave would have some questions of his own he'd want answered...
"That was fast..." she commented. The Marshal must have come straight here while she was dress shopping.
Dorothy took the offered key with a smile to the clerk and then took the bundle off of Layton. "I s-pose I'll be right back then. Gimmie a jiffy to change," she said, then headed back to the room. It was surprisingly nice... at least to someone that had used her saddle as pillow almost every night for the last few months. And thoughts of dinner almost went out the window as she tested out the edge of the bed. Almost. Her stomach growled and she opened the bundle from the Mercantile to find the peanuts.
"This is somethin' I might could get used to," she said aloud to no one, looking over the room as she ate a handful of peanuts. "Just gotta steer clear of the ding Pinkerton..." she added, like it was no big deal. But she knew it was a big deal. A very big deal.
She took off the gun belt and went about looking for somewhere to hide the guns and the money. Under the bed seemed too obvious, but there really weren't a lot of options. So she stuffed both the guns and the money between the springs and the mattress, so at least one couldn't just see them with a casual glance under the bed. Later, when she had some time alone, she'd find a better spot. But she sure wasn't going to take the guns to dinner. That was just asking to have the Marshal take them off of her.
Some 15 minutes later, she was returning to the front desk. She'd changed into the light blue dress, combed her hair up into a loose bun and left her brown and black hat back in the room. She'd even applied a little bit of the eyeliner she always kept handy... even being lost in the woods she hadn't lost track of her eyeliner.
Dorothy did her best to put on a confident air, but it was the first time in a long time she'd been around men without the assurances the guns offered and she felt almost naked without them.
Something about Layton's statements didn't sit quite right with Dorothy. Maybe it was simply that he'd laughed at her concerns, but she thought there was something else bugging her, she just couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was.
You're just bein' paranoid... she chided herself, which did nothing to quell her unease at the idea of everyone in the whole ding town knowing she was running from a Pinkerton. How long until they all knew everything else about her too? So much for a fresh start...
Betraying nothing of these thoughts, she nodded and faked a smile to Harris ... faking smiles was something she'd gotten talented at back at Donley's ... as she picked up Pongo's reins to lead him over toward the hotel. "I guess I do," she said, as if in agreement.
For now, she tied her steed to the hitching post outside the hotel. "Mind holdin' these a minute?" she asked, already handing Harris the two dresses to free up her own hands to untie and collect her saddle bags, which she slung over a shoulder. "Thanks..." she'd take them back if the man didn't want to be seen carrying the dresses. Or, if he didn't mind, allow him to carry them into the hotel for her.
Dorothy's eyes flicked quickly toward the clerk as Layton mentioned the Pinkerton right in front of him, surprised that Harris would be so casual about letting another in on the 'secret'. Did that mean the store clerk worked for the Steelgraves too? Or that the clerk had reason to fear the Steelgraves?
She found no answers on the clerk's face as he busied himself totaling the items and then wrapping them. Still, she lapsed into an uneasy silence until she and Harris were leaving the Mercantile, goods in hand, before finally voicing her concern... "Ain't it... kinda askin' for trouble ta be talkin' bout them kinda plans in a café?"
"Might help if I knew what his plan was..." she muttered to herself, though not loud enough to be heard by Harris or by the clerk. She looked over the remaining choices of dresses, shirts and skirts. Was she supposed to masquerade as a saloon girl? A simple ranch wife? Leave it to men to think that "women's clothes" was enough of a description to go on.
Maybe it was just the nerves that had been kicked up by learning about the Pinkerton, but now she felt suddenly anxious about picking the clothes. As if this were some test that she was being given, but without enough information. Since she'd already selected a plain outfit, she reluctantly explored the fancier ones. If the conversation with Elias offered any clues, he expected her to flirt her way to information and secrets that he could use.
So she found a light blue dress that was still conservative compared to the attire she'd worn at Donley's, but had a daringly low neckline compared to some of the other dresses in stock and sleeves that came only slightly past the elbows.
Dorothy carried her two chosen outfits up toward the clerk. "How 'bout a lil' bag a them peanuts too? And a couple a them peppermints?" Her empty stomach was complaining at the site of the jars of sweets and other food stuffs, reminding her again she'd had nothing but the coffee since last night's beans with Billy and Greer. And there was no evidence a meal was forthcoming any time soon. "Sure the Marshal won't mind too much."
Though she managed to keep up an appearance of outward calm, the fact that Pongo started prancing again and tossed his head nervously a couple times betrayed the fact that his rider had tensed up upon hearing Layton’s news.
“I never saw him and he never saw me that I know of,” Dorothy answered cautiously. She doubted that the detective would know her on sight, but was she willing to bet her life on that? Up until 2 minutes ago, she would have doubted that he was still on their tail. My tail… she corrected herself. The report that he was looking for her explicitly did not bode well for Flinch or Smitty. Had they escaped the Indians only to get caught by the Pinkerton? “Thought we ditched him outsida Dodge.”
She glanced toward the building where her escort had stopped as she slid down off her Indian pony. Part of her wanted to skedaddle as fast as she could outta there. But where would she go? No, trying to outrun the man was obviously not working. So, maybe these Steelgraves were her best hope of avoiding the hangman’s knot. Which meant she’d have to suck it up and play whatever part they wanted her to play.
She walked into the Mercantile beside Harris almost as if the two were an item. “I’ll go take a look at the dresses they got,” she said sweetly, slipping into a bit of play acting for the benefit of the clerk. There wasn’t a very large selection and she picked out a somewhat plain, but functional brown skirt and a button up shirt with a simple shepherd check pattern. It may or may not be what Case Steelgrave had in mind, but it was the least objectionable thing (to her) here.
Sagas of the WIld West is a roleplaying game set in a fictionalized version of the town of Kalispell in Montana territory. Our stories begin in 1875 and are set against the backdrop of actual historical events.Sagas was inspired by the classic television and movie westerns. Our focus is on writing, storytelling and character development.
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