Brendan inherited his looks from his mother and his height from his father. His hair is often covered with a hat, but when it's not he likes to run his fingers through it so it stands up a bit. He is rarely clean-shaven but never grows out a full beard, hovering in some scruffy medium.
His normal outfit is a dirty-white shirt, jeans or brown pants, suspenders, and sometimes a vest. On the rare occasions he goes to church or a fancier event, he has one red plaid shirt that he guards carefully for special occasions.
Traits & Characteristics
Can be lazy (-+)
Belligerent around educated folks
Outgoing around women (unless they're educated; then he's more withdrawn)
Illiterate (except for his name)
Has a great memory for spoken word
Better with animals than people, generally
Employer: Evergreen Ranch
Skills: Roping, riding, tracking, breaking horses
Brendan's a jack of all trades, but a master of none. His father taught him how to sit a horse, how to rope a steer, and how to talk his way out of trouble. His mother taught him how to say his prayers. What no one taught him is how to read. He's best with animals, but he can do anything in the outdoors, whether it be plowing, herding cattle, or splitting wood.
He's worked his way west, looking for a job at a ranch or farm that feels like home.
Aliases / Nicknames
Current residence: Evergreen Ranch, Kalispell
Kith & Kin
Father: Casey Connolly
Mother: Margaret Connolly
Thomas - born 1848
Breda - born 1853
Maggie - born 1855
Finn - born 1856
1848: Born in Mississippi
1861-1863: Helps his mother take care of the farm while his father is away during the War Between the States
1871-1874: Drifts out west, looking for a permanent place as a cowhand
1875: Arrives in Kalispell in July and is hired on at the Evergreen ranch
“I know what happened to her, Arabella,” Brendan said quietly.
He knew, and that was the reason he couldn’t stop thinking about Bridget. Anyone who’d been through what she had didn’t deserve to end up back on the streets.
His news about Crabbe’s supposed death was an even bigger shock to Arabella than he’d thought it would be, and it shocked the breakfast out of her. He looked away while she vomited, trying to block out the horrible heaving noises.
Finally she was finished. He looked back at her. “Huh? Oh, sorry.” He hadn’t thought about her long hair getting in the way.
“No, it weren’t nice.” He grinned a little bit. “Arabella, your face looks like green cheese.”
Maybe green cheese didn’t actually look like her face, but her face was green. Now was the time to make his move. He stood up.
“I’m goin’ to talk to her. I want you to come with me.”
Brendan stared at the knees of his trousers as Arabella began to tell her story. It did begin like a fairy tale, but it didn’t have a happy ending. He hated sad endings.
“I can’t just forget about her!” He burst out, jerking his hand away. “Arabella, she’s like a…a little puppy you’d find on the boardwalk! I can’t forget about her. I’ve gotta do something ‘cause…well, ‘cause Crabbe said he’s dyin’!”
With that spectacular piece of news spread, he balled his hands up into fists and stared at the space between his boots.
If it weren’t for the fact that Crabbe was dying, he might have been able to countenance forgetting Bridget. She’d be well-off with the smooth-talking man, even if he didn’t really care about her very much. But Crabbe’s possible death meant that Bridget would be alone in the world, and might end up in the situation Crabbe had found her. Unless Brendan, Caroline, and anyone else who cared about the redhead could find a solution.
“Really?” Brendan was just a tad bit skeptical about all the contents of Bridget’s letters being original, especially the stuff about Bridget being a red-hot kisser. Just the same, his heart skipped a beat.
Arabella seemed very surprised that he couldn’t stop thinking about Bridget. She repeated the phrase and grabbed his arm, seeming almost appalled at his revelation.
”Yeah, I can’t stop thinkin’ about her! And what about Caroline?” He demanded. “I know she ain’t the marryin’ kind.” Arabella was right about that, and about Caroline being “good for a fumble”.
He regarded her suspiciously as she straightened his suspenders. The last story he’d heard about a girl’s childhood - Caroline’s - hadn’t been pleasant, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Arabella’s story was just what he’d heard from Crabbe and Caroline.
As Brendan slouched against the wall, he rolled his shoulders to try to get rid of the odd tension he was feeling. But it wasn't his body, it was in the room. Arabella wasn't quite as carefree as she'd always been, and some of the tension in the room must be from her.
He tilted his head to one side, debating whether or not to answer her question. Sure, if the girl was shapely like...well, like Caroline, he'd enjoy watching her do laundry. But even though Arabella was filling out a little, he wasn't watching her in that way. He'd never in a million years think of her that way. She was just plain old Arabella.
His "hook" didn't exactly land the way he wanted it to. Instead of going on a ramble about Bridget, Arabella stopped what she was doing and asked him why. Why? How could he answer that? Should he answer that?
He cast his eyes over the rest of the laundry equipment while he thought of an answer. At first his words didn't come out right, but as he continued, he regained control of his thoughts. "Well...uh...well...you know we wrote letters to each other. 'Course you do. You wrote those letters yourself, didn't you? Well, I can't...can't stop thinkin' about her. And...I was hopin' you'd tell me about her."
"I ain't keen on doin' laundry." Brendan brushed off Arabella's request for help, softening his refusal with a grin. "You'll do a right good job of it, though."
Actually, he wasn't keen on doing any sort of work right now, but that was beside the point. It was nice to be lazy, and he'd been being lazy since he'd started living at the saloon, but there was always the nagging feeling that he ought to be doing something to make money. He couldn't stay in Caroline's room forever.
He followed her into the scullery and leaned against the wall, prepared to stand and watch her work. "You know Bridget pretty well, right?" he asked with no preamble.
He couldn't just come out and say "Crabbe asked me to marry Bridget," because if he told Arabella that, it could very well be all around town before the day was out. What he needed was to fish for information discreetly, which wouldn't be too hard. This was Arabella, after all. He just needed to prompt her, and then all he would have to do is stand and listen.
Mature Content: Possibly?
With: Brendan, Arabella, Bridget, Crabbe, and maybe Charlie Fa Location: Stardust Saloon/the old funeral parlor When: July 28, 1876 Time of Day: Afternoon
Brendan's conversation with Caroline had stuck with him for the past three days. All of it, but especially the parts about Bridget. Even though he knew deep down that she was right - he shouldn't marry Bridget - something kept him thinking about the redhead.
Finally he decided he needed to talk to her...or at least try to. He clomped down the stairs and peeked into the saloon, searching for Arabella. What with all the recent changes in ownership at the saloon, he had tried to draw less attention to himself. Since the staff was all staying, and Caroline was part of the staff, he felt pretty secure, but you never knew.
"Arabella!" He finally spotted her and waved her over, already second-guessing himself. He must really be desperate if he was asking Arabella for help. Even though he had finally forgiven her for the things she'd said about Caroline, was she really the best person to ask? But she knew Bridget, and would know when a good time to talk to her without Crabbe around would be.
Brendan squinted at Aurelian, keeping a tight hold of Fiona's reins. He considered José's question and gnawed on his lip. He didn't want to give José the impression that he was a coward by backing down, and he didn't want Aurelian to think that any of the Evergreen hands were pushovers.
"Ah...we follow the cows. I ain't in the mood for a fight today," he finally replied to José, then raised his voice.
"We wouldn't be on your land if you weren't here," he called to Aurelian. "Count yourself lucky we ain't lookin' for trouble today either!"
With that, he turned Fiona and headed back toward the safety of Evergreen land. "C'mon, Martinez." He again had to turn his back on Aurelian, but he kept Fiona at a walk to present a facade of nonchalance. He risked a glance backwards to make sure that José was following him.
(ooc: My bad! To me a gun that's not a pistol is a shotgun, but I know that's not the case lol)
Brendan had expected Aurelian Redmond to be a little more meek than he actually was. Well, he'd been hoping. But his hopes weren't grounded in reality. After all, Aurelian was Clara's father. So it stood to reason that he'd have at least some of the prickliness his daughter had displayed on her first meeting with Brendan.
He rolled his eyes at Aurelian's righteous - but annoying - anger and waited to see what would happen next. He wasn't itching for a fight, and it didn't seem like Aurelian was either, even though he was upset about the trespassing cows. José seemed like he was just waiting for someone else to take the lead, so Brendan did, hoping to look good in front of the new hand.
He stood up in his stirrups slightly and called, "Looky, mister, we're gettin' rid of the cows! All right? They didn't do nothin' to your place this time!"
He leaned toward José and muttered, "He's too uppity for a farmer. That's why we don't like 'im." It occurred to him that that was another trait Clara and Aurelian shared...being uppity. They both thought they were so much better than everyone else when in reality they and their farm were just a nuisance.
At the man's challenge, Brendan glanced at José. He didn't really want to be the first one to make a move, but it wouldn't be fair to make José do it. He clucked to Fiona and moved slowly in the direction of the cow, facing Aurelian the whole time.
"Don't you worry about it, sodbuster," he called reassuringly...and just a little patronizingly. "That ol' cow won't hurt your fields."
He got the cow moving toward José, trusting the newer hand's supposed cattle experience to get the cow the rest of the way off Redmond land. He had to turn his back on Aurelian for a moment, and it felt like the farmer was aiming at his back the whole time. Then he turned back around and called, "Cows'll be cows, you know."
It was odd having a conversation with someone this far away, but he didn't want to get any closer to Aurelian's shotgun.
"I don't want to marry you!" he said quickly, then broke into a grin at the absurdity of it. He knew Caroline wouldn't be offended by what he'd said. Neither of them wanted to settle down.
"Mm...Bridget," he mumbled thoughtfully, his grin fading. The connection he had with the redhead girl was so strange and strong, but he just couldn't fathom marrying her; taking care of her for the rest of her life. Having Crabbe for a father-in-law might not be too bad, especially with the promised stipend, but Crabbe thought he was dying.
"Don't wanna think about that now." He leaned over to kiss the side of her neck. "I want to sleep. 'Night, Caroline." He closed his eyes and tried to doze off, but kept seeing Bridget's freckled face in front of his eyelids. He had to make a decision soon. It wasn't fair to keep her waiting, even if Crabbe hadn't told her what was going on.
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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