The Old Ranger

ACTIVE-MOVED

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384
Last visited
July 25, 2022
Player
Stormwolfe

About The Old Ranger

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The Old Ranger
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01/01/1800
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Player Notes

The Old Ranger is a generic storyteller character to be used by anyone that wants to set up a scene, something told by a narrator not one of the characters.

Please use him wisely!

Topics I Participated In

New In Town II - More than one town

Started by The Old Ranger · June 28, 2022

Mature Content: No
With: Walt Shannon, Injun Charlie, Wally Oldham, others?
Location: Add specific location information here.
When: July 1876
Time of Day: Mid Day on

Eastern Montana presented a few towns and each of those towns had a bank. Walt Shannon and his partners rode through them, stopping only for supplies and the occasional meal, or a brief stop at the saloon. They kept their eyes open, not actually casing each of the banks, but noting how they sat, where each was located, and how close they were to the local constabulary, be it Marshall or Sheriff.

Of note was the activity, how busy each of those towns was, and were there mining men on the street, which might indicate there would be a payroll. Of course cattlemen, cowhands and the like meant money in the bank to operate those ranches. Every town they passed through had those types of men on the street. Men looking for silver and gold, others in town for supplies be they farmers or cattlemen of one kind or another.

The towns, Columbia Falls, Coram, Hungry Horse, Briggs, and Melville, all the same except in size, but different in what they supported. Mining, ranching, farming, or a combination. Each with some sort of law, but none with the office of said lawman close to the bank. This was a series of good signs for the Shannon Gang, not they they were known as such, but it was who and what they were.

They had not forgotten about their deal with Case Steelgrave, not at all, in fact part of what they were about was to see which of the outlying towns would be ripe for the taking when the time came. As it stood, that would be all of them. They made camp near the edge of Flathead County, not that county lines meant anything to them. State lines meant nothing either. All those line meant were the end of one jurisdiction and the beginning of another, however, rarely were they ever chased by a posse. So far they had been to clever for that to happen.

With their camp set, looking very much a miners camp site. They of course had the tools of the trade, and they were on display as they had seen done many times.

"Okay, I think we've seen everything we need to know about these towns." Walt began as he took out a hide bound tally book he used for notes on jobs he had scouted, not that he bothered on very many. "Five towns, all different in size and all the same except the last one, Melville. The bank was ten yards from any other building. That one is almost too easy, so on the way back we need to find out a bit more about why. I mean, hell, they can build it wherever they want, that's for sure, away like that? Makes a man wonder."

TBC
Riding The Country

Started by The Old Ranger · May 17, 2022

Mature Content: Probably not.
With: Marshals Cook & McNue
Location: Columbia Falls
When: Mid July 1876
Time of Day: Of A Morning..

Cook and McNue had ridden north-east out of Kalispell up through Columbia Falls to Coram and just beyond. They turned back after camping a couple of nights just pretty much doing nothing but talking about what was going on back in Kalispell. Both men had been up the trail and around the bend, so what they were seeing in Kalispell was nothing they had not seen before. Ruthless ranchers ready to do whatever they had to to increase their holdings, on hang on to what they had. Maybe run off the sod busters that fouled the range and denied grazing. But in this case, what they knew was that the two big dogs were ready for a fight.

All that was necessary to spark the tinder and burst it into an all out range war was an incident, whether one party could blame the other or not. And from what they were seeing, it really would not take a whole lot to fan the flames. What both had trouble understanding was the hospital and orphanage plans. All of that had been settled long ago. Both men knew how all of it was done, the right of ways bought and paid for, with a written contract from the railroad to guarantee the proposed route. Yet, nothing had been done other than to stall, and for no apparent reason where someone, other than the town Council might profit, and that was sketchy at best.

The woman, Leah Steelgrave had seen to every detail, both had heard the stories and been witness to some. She worked hard and long hours to make sure everything was iron clad. She must have expected problems like those that had arisen. Yet their question was still, why.

Passing back through Corum and then into Columbia Falls, the marshals decided to stop for the mid day meal. They stopped at the Bon Ton Cafe and dismounted, tying the horses at the hitch rail and then going inside. The place had those long communal tables, but they sat down with three other men across from them, one spoke up,'

"Marshals are ya?" The older man said. Both men looked up. "Boone, Doctor Joshia Boone, gentlemen."

TBC
New In Town

Started by The Old Ranger · April 13, 2022

Mature Content: No
With: Walt Shannon, Wally Oldham, Injun Charlie
Location: Lickskillet, Stardust Saloon, Around Town.
When: Mid-July 1876
Time of Day: Mid-day

They came into town slow and easy, looking the town over as most travelers would do. They rode past the Municipal Building, the Town Marshal was seated at his desk oblivious to the riders. Across the street several businesses and a hotel, but the saloon, the Stardust, and next to it, the Lickskillet Cafe. They pulled up and stepped down at the cafe, tying their horses.

Drinks might be good, but food they didn't have to cook, that took precedence to men who'd been on the trail for sometime, even though they ate cafe food in Rollins, but that was a while ago. There were no words of caution or care to be taken, they knew what they were about. First a meal, then a couple of drinks and some information on mining in the area and then, ride on. The word was, leave the bank alone. Case had been firm on that. So it would be.

They went to the door, opened it and stepped inside, removing their hats as they found a table and took seats to wait on the waitress, or whoever.
@Wayfarer(Clara)

Moved From: From Big Flat To Kalispell
Lordsburg To Kalispell

Started by The Old Ranger · March 20, 2022

Mature Content: Possible
With: Tyrell Thornton and Unknown NPCs for the thread.
Location: Lordsburg, New Mexico
When: June 1875
Time of Day: Mid-morning

Lordsburg, hot, dusty, some bigger than a wide spot on the trail. Home to rattlesnakes, Gila Monsters, Apaches, pimas, Mexican Banditos, heat, and drought. Home also to the Lazy S Ranch. A place some sixteen miles from what was town at the time. There were a couple of other spreads run by equally as hardy men as Alvarado Muncy, half Mexican, half French-English.

On this particular day, the monthly trip to Lordsburg set out, Alvardo remainging at the ranch, sending his foreman, Tyrell Thornton instead. With the wagon and Thornton were five armed riders because one could never be certain of the trail in those days. But, supplies had to be procured, so men had to go in after them. For Thornton any trip to town was rare as he felt his place was on the ranch, but no one argued with Alvarado Muncy. So he rode along, reluctantly, as he had no interest in going to town since the passing of his wife Gracie Marie in 1870. She was strong willed and determined, but Gracie for all her determination was not built for the hard life in Southern New Mexico. She contracted pneumonia and passed quickly, but that changed Tyrell, it hardened him.

When they arrived in town the first stop was the general store where they filled the list with what was available, including bulk ammunition with the food stuffs. Once the wagon was loaded and covered to keep the dust out, they went to the saloon, which might have had a name, but no one seemed to know it. They stepped up to the bar for drinks, as with Alvarado, there would be two, and then back to the ranch. That was the standing rule and every man knew it.

Harvey Ledbetter, who handled the singing wire, came in and walked up to Tyrell. "You got a telegram." He said shoving the paper at him.

Tyrell took the paper, fished out a dime and handed it to the boy.

Next: The Telegram
The Ghastly Smile of the Dead

Started by Jacob Lutz · March 7, 2022

Mature Content: Yes. Not nice.
With: Jacob Lutz, Captain Barlow, Ke-Ni-Tay, MacIntosh
Location: Somewhere between Kalispell and Helena
When: Month 29th August, 1876
Time of Day: 3.20pm

Peloponnese was a good girl and always did what was asked of her. The piebald mare was never 'marish', even when she was in season, always obedient, and she had gotten him out of trouble too many times to count by her amazing equine bravery for, by his own admission, she was far more courageous than her rider. But this was the second time she had shied today.

"Where you going?! No!" The splodgy black and white four-year old had pulled short on the trail, backed up, nearly done a pirouette like a performing gee gee in a circus, or those fancy white dancing horses he'd read about in Vienna, and was now happily trotting off at a 90 degree angle across the prairie with her rider turning in the saddle trying to discern what on earth had spooked his normally steady mount.

"Hey, you don't fool me!" Jacob yelped, and turned her back onto the trail using spur, rein, and slapped croup. He was suddenly worried, though: Peloponnese wasn't just braver than him, he had come to realise, she was also a good deal wiser, and she wouldn't have baulked for nothing. Human will overcame horse-sense, and he pushed her forward, looking ahead: he could see nothing untoward, but he unfastened his rifle holster and drew out the Henry anyway. Peloponnese knew what that meant and he had to find a spare hand from somewhere to rub her withers and shush her whinnying. "I know, I know" he gently cooed as they moved forward, at a walking pace now.

Give the animal her due, she had detected the scent a good couple of miles and a long walk away and it was a good long time before he saw it: some sort of low flat wagon with an awful lot of crows and turkey vultures perched on top. Every now and again one or two would jump down to the ground, and there would be a flurry of feather and a couple of the birds would fly up and then settle back down to try and spot a vacant spot at the feast. Jacob felt a little dizzy all of a sudden and was aware of the blood hissing in his ears. "Steady, now, steady" he called softly to Peloponnese, but it was himself he was trying to calm not her.

He looked around. Nothing. No sound. Nowhere for anyone to hide. No. There was always somewhere for Indians to hide. He would have to trust to his and his horse's senses. He dismounted and led his horse forward, rifle held in his other hand. The crows scattered, but the turkey vultures were made of sturdier stuff and had to be actually shoed away from... from what? It took him a good few seconds to work out exactly what he was looking at.

They had been men, once. Long, white and skinny looking these corpses were: their faces and hands and arms sunburned though and bodies and faces already starting to swell in the heat. There were black patches of beard and body hair which intertwined with dark black-red areas of wounds: some almost random looking stab and gunshot holes others more deliberate, all of them attracting great shiny flies with their stench. Both men, soldiers by the look of the discarded pieces of clothing strewn about, had been carefully mutilated. He could only hope that this had been done after death. The breeze wafted a sickly sweet stench his way and it was then that he was violently sick.

He didn't want to look again, he wanted to run. He wanted to get on his horse and ride and forget he had ever come across the scene. But he couldn't: he looked again, deliberately noting what he saw in his mind. Each man carried a long vertical slash to his thigh -bone deep, the femurs peeping white in the afternoon sun. The genitals were missing, which made him wince on the dead men's behalf, an ugly blood-black patch remained: mute testimony to their emasculation in the afterlife. And the throats were sliced ear to ear, the starkly scalped heads lolling back producing enormous ghastly and grotesque smiles of death. The missing eyes of the men... he didn't know if that was a deliberate act or merely the handywork of the turkey vultures, but what he saw in the mouths of the dead men, and which made him vomit once more, was definitely the work of savage human hands.

He staggered to his horse's side and held on to her, steadying himself, breathing. He took a swig of water from his canteen, and eventually felt strong enough to clamber back into the saddle. He took one last look at the scene. It was almost familiar to him now. The carrion crows and vultures looked at him impatiently: he knew he would have to describe all of this to someone at the fort. The worst part... he couldn't go there straight away.

Because of what had happened this morning, because of the person who had made Peloponnese shy as they had set out on this misbegotten trip, he was going to have to go on further down the trail first... just to be sure.

[To Be Continued]
Captives

Started by Caroline Mundee · December 31, 2021

Mature Content: Definitely! Lots of violence, also gore.
With: Addy, Caroline and a bunch of NPCs
Location: Somewhere between Kalispell and Helena
When: Month Aug.29, 1876
Time of Day: Mid day

Caroline hadn't been on a stagecoach since her arrival many months ago not that she missed it. These contraptions gave a bone jarring bumpy ride, the only good thing about it had been that was when she first met Addy Chappell. That woman worked as a driver for the Millegan Stage company and she was pretty certain Addy still did. They had gotten along well that time but since had sorta lost touch. Not surprising really as both of them lived very different lives. Well just maybe Addy would driving this trip. Caroline was on the way to Helena.

As she stood by the stage office boardwalk, she held a smallish carpet bag. It was going to be a short stay in Helena, she was to attend a funeral of an old friend. They had worked in a Helena saloon for a time before a major fire wrecked the building. Caroline had left soon after and lucked out to find a job quickly in Kalispell thanks to a tip from another friend who lived there. She had always figured she would never go back to Helena but this here was different.

****
Rebecca Honeycutt was sitting on a bench not far from Caroline, both ignoring the other as they did not know each other. Next to her sat her boy, her only child, Byron. The name had been chosen by her husband, the boy himself hated it and much preferred being called Buck or Bucky. A doting mother, she humored him. Byron...errr, Bucky was a good son. Unlike his father who was not with the two. For he had abandoned Rebecca in the pursuit of fortune. Finding gold in Montana had been the death knell of their marriage, he was off to prospect and strike it rich. But he had also made it quite clear to her even if he struck it rich he would not be coming back.

****

Ross Hampton was still inside the stage office, he was helping himself to one of the double barreled shotguns on a rack behind the counter. He had already secured a box of shells. Ross was a Millegan employee, mostly he rode shotgun if the stage might be carrying something deemed valuable enough to warrant it. Other times he drove stage or filled in at times for caring for the horses in the stable. Today though it was obviously 'shotgun'. What with all the Indian troubles this summer....my god, the damn redskins wiped out Custer even, the company decided all stages needed an armed guard on board. While it made sense and also made the passengers maybe feel a bit safer, Ross knew better. Hell, if a war party of those devils attacked the stage, he wasn't going to make a hell of a lot of difference. Least he had confidence in the driver's ability to do her part. Addy knew her stuff, she had earned his respect over the years.

Soon as she came walking in that back door, it would be time to get a moving. The passengers waiting out front, they had three - no menfolk - had already paid for their tickets. Helena here they come!

@Bongo
Thundering Hooves, Barking Rifles

Started by Stormwolfe · July 18, 2021

Rating: PG-14 Content: N/A Mature Content: Yes, violence, language, probable killings of both humans and animals
With: Clyde Baker, Wayne Baker, Baker gang, Brendan Connolly, José Reyes, Evergreen Ranch hands, Potentially Steelgrave Family themselves
NPCs: Baker Gang written by Boshmi (retired Player)
Location: Edge of the Evergreen Ranch
When: Mid May, 1876
Time of Day: 11PM, the dead of night

They were too close for a fire, and so the gang had huddled beneath blankets and pulled coats over themselves as the night's chill crept in. It was the middle of the damn summer, and this God-forsaken hellhole dropped to frigid temperatures as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon.

"Freezing my damn balls off here, Clyde. When are we making a fuckin' move?"
"Shut your mouth Greene, we go when I god damn say so."
To make matters worse, they'd hired on extra hands for this job. Frank Greene, Jed Sampson, and Jimmy Finch had joined in the bolstering of their ranks, swelling their little posse to five members strong.

For Clyde, that was just as bad as going without. Men you didn't know were as liable to shoot you in the back as to carry you through a burning building, and that was a chance he never liked to take. Unfortunately for him, Kalispell; this little shithole out in the ass-end of the world, was a long way from anywhere safe, and a longer way still from anywhere they would be able to fence cows or cattleflesh. Him and Wayne couldn't do it alone, despite how poorly these cowpokes rubbed him.

Out in the distance, at the fence line, came the whinny of a horse as its rider brought it to bear, and the low grumbling of Cattle followed, protests at the movement in their ranks.
Clyde grinned. The wait was over.
"Alright Greene, we're going. Mount up boys, masks on and guns ready."

There was a resounding chorus of 'alright' and 'bout' time' and 'let's do this' from the men, as they loaded their weapons and readied themselves for the raid to come. Clyde pushed himself to his feet and pulled the revolver from his holster, giving its cylinder a little spin in trepidation. His plan would work. It had to work.
He moved to his gelding, a ratty thing he'd fleeced off a card shark in Wichita, and pulled that old red bandanna from it's saddlebag. It was comfortable around his throat in its familiarity. He must have worn it dozens of times in robberies just like this, and it had always seen him through. His. Plan. Would. Work.

The outlaw planted a foot in his stirrup, and hoisted himself up onto the mount. The gelding snorted in discomfort, and took a few steps to the side to resettle himself against the weight.

"You ready, Clyde?" asked Wayne to his right, already mounted, looking for all the world like a trickshooter with that Winchester nestled in the crook of his arm.

"You know it, buddy. Just like old times."

"Just like old times."

----

They moved in silence to the fence line, nothing in the still night air but the clopping of horseshoes and the faint baying of cattle. Cresting a rise, the five riders peered down at the ranch below, pens upon pens of cattle, and off in the distance sat the ranch house, dim lights showing through the windows.

Clyde looked around for the pen he'd spotted earlier - a smaller one holding maybe twenty heads. He'd sat up the last few nights watching the routine of these hands at the fence line, and he knew there was a window of changeover, about fifteen minutes long; where that pen would be undisturbed by any guards. They would slip in, stampede the cows, corral them into the forest, round them up, and be gone before morning. Once they got out into open country, they'd never be caught. Wayne was too damn good at what he did.

"Wayne, take Sampson and circle round the rear. On my whistle I want you to get the herd moving. I don't care how you do it, just fucken do it."

"Yes boss." mumbled Wayne, beckoning for Jed to follow him. Their horses trotted off into the night, riders alert.

"Finch, you're riding flank. Keep to the side, and when the cattle start running, you keep those stragglers from drifting too far, y'hear?"

Finch nodded, and he too rode off into the night, the opposite direction to Wayne and Jed.

"Alright, Greene, you're with me. Keep your head down, do what you're told and we'll come out of this rich."

"Sure shit, Baker." grunted Frank, and with that, the gang fanned out into the night, completing a deadly envelopment of the small pen. Clyde kicked the gelding into motion, and they cantered down to the fence line. In front lay their fortune, behind lay hundreds of miles of unsettled territory. All they had to do was get it out of there.

They stopped just shy of the fence, and Clyde pulled sharp left on the reins, scanning the border for a glint of metal that would indicate a gate. He found it right in the center, chained shut with nothing but a rusty old padlock. He swung his leg over his mount and dropped to the grassy ground, pulling the bandanna up to cover his nose and mouth as he did so. It was dark, and unlikely that anyone would recognize him if he was seen, but it always paid to err on the side of caution, especially on a job wrought with such chance.

"Greene! Cutters!" he hissed, and his companion jogged over to him, a set of bolt cutters in hand. Clyde never liked to work with faulty equipment, and the cutters in question had been sharpened to a honed edge. All it took was one deft snip, and the padlocked chain fell to the dirt, useless.
Clyde dropped the cutters, and Frank moved to the opposite side of the gate. Together, they pulled it open, creaking obnoxiously in the still night. From within the pen, the cattle began to move around, uncomfortable with this irregularity to their schedule. With their side of the job complete, Clyde tilted back his head and gave a single sharp whistle to their accomplices.

----

By now, Wayne and Jed had arrived at the rear of the pen, and their horses stood pawing the ground in anticipation. The animals could sense the anxiety in the air, and here and there came the mooing of nervous cattle.

Wayne watched as those two dark figures moved across the fence line opposite them, darting from their horses to the fence.

"Are we goin' or what?" Jed asked, nervousness in his voice.

"Calm yer fucken' self. We go on my brother's signal." Wayne shot back. He'd learned some years ago that Clyde generally knew best, even on matters that seemed straightforward.

Jed huffed, but said nothing. The moments ticked by, excruciatingly. Any second now, one of the Evergreen ranch hands might come up the rise and catch them in the act. Then there'd be bloodshed for damn sure, but until then they would wait.
Finally, like a message of salvation from God himself, there was a sharp whistle from across the pen.

"Alright, let's go." Wayne announced, as he pulled his own bandanna up to cover the bottom of his face. He kicked his horse into gear and they loudly galloped along the fence. The cattle began to stir, but made no movement, and so Wayne darted back for a second time, slapping the side of his saddle.

"Come on cows, gee-up, cmon', go on, get going!"

Jed joined in the theatrics, and the cattle begun to stomp their feet, but still they would not move.

"Damn it Baker, we gotta get em' going!"

"Don't you think I fucken' know that?" Wayne retorted. Damn it, Clyde would know what to do, but he couldn't circle around to ask, they were running out of time as it was.
Beneath his mask, he chewed his lip, and finally after a moment's deliberation, he pulled the Winchester from it's scabbard on the side of his saddle.

"Jaysus Baker, are you mad? You'll alert every damn hand on the ranch!"

"We don't have much fucken' choice, do we? We're gonna get caught anyway if we sit here with our thumbs up our asses!"

He worked the lever action, filling the chamber before he raised the rifle's barrel to the sky. He shut his eyes for a moment, and hoped that this was the right thing to do.

----

The gunshot echoed out, far across the valley. What followed were the thundering of hooves, belonging to both horses and cows. Men darted awake in their beds, riders turned their mounts to face the noise, and ranch hands stopped what they were doing to investigate.

José slumped down into his bunk, exhausted after a long day on the range. His hands were blistered and sore from working the herds, and his back ached from hours in the saddle. It had been a month. A month of honest work, and it was honest work for sure. He was a changed man now, he had gotten out. How many outlaws could say that?
He was just reaching down to unbuckle his gun belt when there came that noise that he could have recognized anywhere. A Winchester model 1866, fired off from one of the rearmost paddocks. The very paddock that he had just left, the very paddock that the night patrol would be heading up to...

He took his hands off his gunbelt, and pushed himself back onto his feet.
@Bailey@Flip
Tea and Crumpets

Started by Emeline Pike · May 31, 2021

Mid-May, Mid-Afternoon

+++++++++++
With the invitation that had been extended to Miss Leah Steelgrave a few week prior excepted, and the date and time set, Emeline had closed the cafe for the afternoon, so she could concentrate on the meeting, and getting to know the other young woman. Rather than the usual fare, she had made small sandwiches and pastries, more in the tradition of high tea than cafe food, but it was a special occasion, and frankly, she had embraced the chance to do something different, and to have something different to eat.

Now, with a table set, and her dress changed to a nice dress without apron, she was just awaiting the arrival of the other young woman...and her bodyguards, that Barnabas had told her were always with her...Emeline had set up a table on the front porch, and was ready to feed them as well.

@Flip
The Reception

Started by Clara Redmond Lutz · May 28, 2021

Rating: PG-14 Content: N/A Mature Content: No
With: Same cast as the wedding one.
Location: Redmond Farm
When: Same day as the wedding (6 June 1876)
Time of Day: Late afternoon

Well, she was a married woman, Clara let that sink in yet again even as she changed out of that lovely blue dress she had been married in, Emeline's gift to her, something she would always treasure too. But ever the practical one, she now changed into a more appropriate work dress because it was on her to feed the arriving guests as they pulled up to the Redmond property in buggies or riding horses. She was going to have to feed a good dozen folks and was a bit apprehensive at the responsibility too. Not that she didn't know how to cook, she had been doing that regularly since her mother died. No, she worried if she would have enough for all the guests.

In the oven was a ham, her father had bought it just the day before, he called it a 'large ham', it was a HUGE one but that was a good thing what with this many mouths to feed. Last night she had baked two full baskets of corn bread dodgers to provide the bread. While she did not dare ask Emeline for such (what with all the woman did for her) she hoped her employer might just bring a baked loaf or two of bread. Emeline was already providing the wedding cake and Clara was excited to see what she had done with it, Emeline was such a good baker.

As side dishes she had made a large batch of beans with molasses and flavored with some bacon tossed it too then some cooked carrots with honey, opened a jar of pickles, also a plate of pickled eggs she had gotten from the general store. Dessert would have to be the wedding cake, god, she hoped it was large enough to allow everyone a slice at least. She would make it a point to tell Jacob to cut the slices thin if necessary.

Last night she had brought out all the plates and dishware the family owned and washed them, ditto with the silverware. Another issue she could not fix was the fact their dining table in the farm was a small square thing, big enough of course for her father, Wyatt, and her but not going to seat this many guests. Her father came to the rescue by setting up two saw horses and placing a wide plank between them. Even using some barrels they just did not have enough chairs to seat everybody though. Some would have to stand or eat in shifts. Too late Clara realized it would have been smarter to have the dinner at the Lick Skillet! Live and learn.

Now suitably garbed (more for a work day than a party) the young brunette proceeded to the kitchen to do the last minute tasks which awaited her culinary event.

***

Wyatt had convinced his father to let him pound a few stakes into the ground and hopefully he could entice some of the guests to play some horseshoes. At least they could have a little fun at this boring affair.

***
Aurelian was not much of a drinker, well he had been as a young man but gave it up for assuming the reponsiblity of being a proper family man. But there had to be some sort of alcoholic beverage to do up toasts for the bridge and groom, to drink to their future so right after the wedding he had duly marched over to the saloon to try for a purchase of a bottle of some sort of wine. The bartender mentioned they had champagne in the back, the cost proved prohibitive though so Aurelian had to decline. That's when the man realized this was the wedding Arabella Mudd was attending, she had been given the day and evening off for it. As a goodwill gesture, he simply handed over a bottle of the champagne and said it was a wedding gift for the young couple. Aurelian gratefully accepted.

There would be coffee and tea provided too for the dinner, with fresh cream if anyone so desired.

Chased out of the kitchen by a harried Clara, Aurelian now stood outside to greet the attendees as they arrived. He had even resolved to tolerate Granny Miggins and hope for the very best.
A Day Of Change

Started by The Old Ranger · May 16, 2021

Mature Content: No
Author: Flip
With: Hector Wigfall, Dutton Peabody,
Location: Add specific location information here.
When: May / 1 / 1876
Time of Day: Morning.

It would become a busy day at the telegraph office, what with the regular in and out messaging regarding orders from the mercantile, the general store, and several other businesses along main street, including ink and paper for the Kalispell Union, two message for two men in town arrived almost at the same time, one right after the other. Although not out of the ordinary by any means, it was where they were from, and what they were about that was out of the ordinary.

Each would be life changing missives for the two men involved. Funny how these things happen in the stream of life, one day a body is laying plans for what they will do, perhaps the following day, or in the weeks and moths ahead, and the next, everything is dashed. Something more important has intervened, be it a crisis, an change in employment, a death, actually, any number of things, the point being, change was occurring.

The first to arrive most likely raised young Hector Wigfall’s eyebrows as he jotted down the message, from whom it came, and for whom it was intended. The Territorial Governors Office, Helena Montana, for Dutton Peabody. The second, a cry for help from the neighboring community of Columbia Falls, some twenty miles north east. This one was for Doctor Josiah Boone, who, while in Whitefish, had also been available to Columbia Falls whenever he was needed.

Now young Wigfall held their futures in his hands.
@Javia