Imposing would be a good term, a large man with a full beard and dark eyes
Traits & Characteristics
Tyrell is a hard man, fair to a fault.
1861 - 1875 - Foreman on the Lazy S Ranch, Lordsburg New Mexico
1876 - Unknown
Top Hand, if it has hair on it, he can ride it, if it has a tripper he's good with it. Good with his hand, for work or fighting., Has an eye for tracking.
Aliases / Nicknames
Boss, Jefa, or Patron
July 1876 - Arriving at Lost Lake Ranch
Kith & Kin
1859 - Parents, Abner Garret Thornton, father, brother of James Caleb Thornton and Robert Thornton, Millicent Ann Lattimore nee Thornton, mother. Both parents perished in a fire.
Shade Thornton, Cousin. Perhaps his closest relative.
Sarah Thornton, Cousin he has not seen in the past fifteen years or better.
Many of the Thornton relations he is estranged from, never met, or forgotten over the years.
June 15, 1868 married Gracie Maie Morton
February 20, 1870, Gracie Marie passes.
1858 After the deaths of he parents he moved on, drifting south along the cattle trails, catch on here and there with different outfits. He was a natural at the cowboy life. Spent time in Texas on of a couple of ranches, then drifted into New Mexico where he caught on with the Lazy S in '61. That was where he stayed.
"Well, then, I just might do that, go to the newspaper office an see this lady. You need to know that as far as family, well, my connections ended long ago after my folks passed, so there's likely a passel of Thornton's I don't know out there, and certainly not their wives or young 'uns." Ty responded. The conversation from this young lady went from here to there with little connection to anything. Perfume? "Thank you Ma'am."
So it seemed the best advice was to either get directions and ride out to the place, or go visit with this woman at the newspaper office. What he wanted was that meal and a bed, which he didn't mind paying for.
"Maybe I'll just do that, head on over't this newspaper and meet this woman. Then I'll be for some supper. Been near a year gettin' here, so I believe alla this can wait another day." He looked to the bartender, "You could put a head on this, if you would." And he produced another coin to lay on the bar top.
Now Tyrell had never been questioned as to his identity. A man said who he was and it was pretty much taken as gospel, though more than one man had used an alias, or plain outright lied about who he was. Ty had never outright lied about much of anything. He'd bent the truth some on occasion, but only when he felt it absolutely necessary. Then came the tirade.
"But, well, I don't wanna cast no nasturtiums mister, but how do we know you really are this long lost cousin of Mr Thornton that no one's ever heard of before now: you might just be a professional gunman hired to find Mr Cantrell and shoot him dead: I mean, he's got an awful lot of enemies 'round here, like the Steelgraves fer a start. And Cantrell, he's the rootinest-tootinist gunman around these parts. He's the type of feller that shoots first and asks questions afterwards; heck, half the time he don't even bother askin' the questions. And just lately he filled a bunch of Steelgrave's men so full of lead, you could'a sharpened their heads and used 'em as pencils."
"Now Miss, I appreciate the information about this here boarding house, I truly do. An' I supposed you'd be right to question who I say I am, but I surely ain't here to do harm to no one. I'm here on family business." He replied, not as many words as had gushed from the young lady, but enough. and just as he was about to draw out the telegram from Sade, she went on,
"We should get Missus Sarah Carlton-Thornton-Carlton to identify this feller before we give out and further information about Mr Cantrell" she opined, before turning back to Ty and giving him a winning smile "No offence!"
Suddenly there was other family he had no knowledge of or ever met announced. He looked from the dark haired girl to the bar keep and back again. He drew out the yellow paper, looking to the Barman, "You read?" He asked, a reasonable question of the period.
Ty didn't get the chance to answer the barman, the lady intervened first. "No Ma'am I did not. Looking to find this Quentin Cantrell or the Lost Lake Ranch. But cattle brandin' can be a boring subject, alright. Maybe you know this fella, r can direct me to the Lost Lake?" He knew she was caging drinks, no matter what else she did. It was a way to make money for both the saloon and her. "Give the lady a drink won't you?" With that he laid a coin on the bar.
"Been on the trail a while, so another spell of lookin' ain't about to hurt nothin', I don't suppose." He considered. "Looks to be a right nice town ya got here." It was like what did he really have to say to anyone, and this woman caging drinks? Well, not much of anything really, though she was quite a looker.
"Maybe the sheriff, I take it you have one, maybe he could help. If the place is a ways off, I just might have to get a meal I don't have to cook, and a room with a bed that ain't the hard ground." Which, even as he said it, it was sounding better than more time in the saddle.
"I rode a long ways to get here, not sure about all that's goin' on betwixt this Lost Lake of his and them other folks, the Steelgraves, but I reckon it can be straightened out easy enough. At least I hope so, got me a future elsewhere." He explained, truly not knowing the lay of the land, but hoping to get a feel for it from the bartender.
"Been near a year on the trail up from New Mexico Territory, down Lordsburg way. Hell of a ride. Be glad to meet up with this Cantrell fella, get this all ironed out and be on my way over to Oregon." He took a long drink of his beer.
"A beer'd be nice. Hot out there today." Ty responded. "I'm looking for a man, a Quentin Cantrell. You know where I might find him?" The question sort of hung in the air. Obviously this Cantrell was known around town, at least in the saloon, by the looks of things. But there was no way of telling whether that was good or bad news.
"Not huntin' him. Name's Thornton, Tyrell Thornton. Cousin to Shade Thornton. He asked me to check in on him." He wanted them to know he was not after Cantrell.
The trip was all but over, after passing the fort he could plainly see the town that lie ahead, that would be Kalispell. So the plan would be to stop at the saloon, ask about this Lost Lake Ranch and then head on out to it and get a hold of Cantrell to find out what was what and where he would fit into the equation.
The memory of Molly McGuire hung with him during his ride. Having watched the train disappear from sight, taking her on to Oregon had been hard, but here he was, riding into Kalispell, It was now July of '76, making the trip the longest ride he had ever attempted, and it was finally coming to an end, opening the next phase of his life.
The trail dissolved into the main street, and just ahead a sign that read 'Stardust Saloon,' with the promise of a beer and information. His second cautionary thought, the Lost Lake Ranch, were the Thornton's thought of well, or with hostility? That question would likely be answered at this Stardust Saloon.
Many were the eyes that followed the newcomer as he rode into town. John Anderson stood on the porch of his store watching the man as he past the store, wondering to himself if this yet another gunman for Elias Steelgrave's arsenal of gun hands, and if so, why? Did he not have enough, especially with the rumor that Case Steelgrave was back in the territory, and with a number of men with him.
The eyes of the people on the street were plain enough, there was something going on here, and he was being eyed as a man recruited to one side or another, which side would be of importance to both sides. He reined in at the hitch rail to one side of the Stardust and stepped down, flipping his reins over the rail and then stepping up on the boardwalk and pushing through the bat wings, he walked to the bar.
Dawn broke cold, but with clear skies overhead. Hitching the teams was harder in the cold than when they unhitched the night previous. An early start was required as the days were short even as spring tried to stretch them. Horses were not happy, mules were contrary as always, warm or cold getting into leather for the day's march ahead.
Ty helped Molly hitch up as he had done before, then saddled his own horse for the last ride alongside the wagon of Molly McGuire, a day he did not look forward too, though it would be close to mid-day before he needed to head north. The minutes that he had left with her were precious. How this had happened he did not care to know, only that it did. They stood by the wagon, the last of the coffee in his cup as he held her hand. Words between them were scarce, but they looked at one another, their eyes saying everything that needed to be said for the moment.
The call had come, and he helped her up onto the wagon seat, not that he needed to, but he wanted to, and she wanted him to. He mounted and moved beside the wagon, leaning over to hold her hand when the wagon boss shouted, "Move out!" and in turn, her wagon started forward, pushing on for the promise of Oregon, and for Ty, the promise of the unknown and life without her.
They had not had enough time together in the months that were now their back story. The beginning of something, the promise of a future, the return of love for each of them. Molly sat the seat, ribbons in her right hand, his in her left as the train poked along westward. The day worn on toward noon and the nooning when the wagons would stop for a mid-day meal and a break for the animals.
When it cam he helped her down and held her about the waist. "Another couple miles, Molly. I'll be headed north, but you'll be forever in my heart."
"Hush," she said laying two gloved fingers on his lips. "You'll have me in tears and I'd not want that. We have it to do, you and I. Doesn't mean it will be forever, just as long as it takes. I have your word you'll come for me, and that will have to do. I believe you Tyrell Thornton and I love you. You remember that."
"And just how could I forget." He responded, words were becoming harder.
"Here. A likeness of me so you'll not forget." She smiled her eyes glistening. "I'll not forget you."
"Lets get a move on!" The wagon boss shouted.
They were pressed to one another in each others embrace. No words were said when Ty lifted her to the seat, then turned to his horse, tied to the wagon wheel. He stepped into leather situated himself then looked at her as they started forward. Just another couple of miles before he left the train and Molly McGuire.
It was upon them before they knew it and he stopped as she moved forward. He crossed behind her and started north, the stopped and watched the train and her wagon until they were out of sight, then with a reluctance he had never known before, he spurred his horse and galloped toward the future.
The Last of the Trail lay ahead of Tyrell Thornton. A long stretch from that corner Wyoming to Montana. He had found more than he had bargained for in Atlantic City, that was for sure. He trailed along side of her wagon, as there were miles ahead of them before he actually would turn north. Something he was not looking forward to, though in his heart he knew that he must, he had given his word, so he would do what he must, yet he also knew that when the job was done, he would find Molly McGuire and marry her.
The miles and the morning slipped away as they made their way along the base of the mountains ever closer to where the canyon led the way north but form the looks of it, he might just have one more evening with Molly, and that would be good. He was glad of the noon break where they got a chance to spend some time together.
Funny he thought how things worked out. How he would never have met Molly McGuire had he not answered the call from Shade. How he would still be on the Lazy S, south of Lordsburg in the stifling heat instead of making his way through the snow. But fate had dealt him a good opening hand by putting her in his life. And this trip to Kalispell, if he didn't die of lead poisoning, he finish what needed doing and head for Oregon.
They walked along without saying much of anything, just enjoying their time together as they walked away from the wagons a short, safe distance, not knowing the country and what hostiles it might be home to.
"I understand that you have to go, and I know that the wait will be long and difficult for the both of us." She began. "I'm grateful that we have had this time, that we met, that, well, that there is a future for us out there someday, hopefully soon."
He took her hand. "It was meant to be is all I can figure, and I'm glad of it." He responded. "That we have a future, that you'll wait on me to finish this up, can't put into words how that makes me feel. Afraid I'd make it less than it is. What was before, was. It's what will be that's important. I'll find you Molly McGuire. Maybe you write to me, given you know my name an' where I'll be. I'll write you back."
Before she could answer the new wagon boss shouted that it was time to go. Then in a rush she said, "I'll write. I love you!" And they hurried back to the wagon and his horses. His heart was pounding and not from exertion either. Love. It had found them both.
They pressed on ever closer to their destination and to where Ty would ride off, but the wagon train, such as it was, stopped to make camp for the night. The wagons circled, animals kept close, fires lit, and supper started. One last night in camp, it wouldn't be long now.
The snow was not quite gone when the remaining wagons from the train were hitched as the they made ready to pull out of Atlantic City, It would be slow going as the ground would still be soft, but when the meeting was held in the main room, the vote was to go on to Oregon without delay.
Bartholomew Quinlan had mixed feelings about their leaving, partly the weather, the ground and the miles ahead of them, and partly the need for them to be gone. Yet he would miss them, some of them anyway. And Tyrell Thornton who had made a difference to Molly McGuire and to him with his help around the place. Yet as with all things, the people had just been guests and needed to move on to their destination in Oregon, wherever that may be. But change, the only constant in life, was due with the the thaw.
Ty had helped Molly get her wagon ready for the trip west, her trip west, and over the past moths he found himself in argument with himself about what it was that he must do, and, what he wanted to do. The two pulling him hard. His promise to his cousin Shade, and his growing fondness for Molly. It could be easily mistaken for love, because it was, not that he had admitted it.
For her, it was not the same two choices. She had to reach Oregon and there was no arguing that, but Molly McGuire was in love with the bearded man Tyrell Thornton and wanted to make a life with him, if he felt the same way, yet as she had come to know him, she understood that he had given his word to go to Montana and if he didn't, that decision would weigh on him and on them. How much happiness could they have if he did not do what he had said he would do.
So they were at a stalemate. The future would have to look out for itself.
The morning broke cold and windy, it was till dark but the teams were hitched, horses breath gray in the dimness of the morning from the cold. Everyone was ready to start out, excitement to be on the trail again, even though monotony would set in soon enough, they would be on their way to what they perceived as the promised land.
Ty rode up next to Molly's wagon and he looked at her in the pale light of the dawn. The sun crested in the east as she stepped down and he did as well. Was something wrong? That was his first thought, but she answered that quuickly enough with an embrace, which he returned, and a kiss full on his mouth, which he also returned and then the hug.
"You came back to me Tyrell Thornton, no matter what. You come back to me." She said quietly.
"I will." He said and kissed her back.
Next: The Last of the Trail
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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