Slim and wiry, bears himself well. Usually fancily dressed, as befits his profession. Face is dominated by the thick spectacles he wears.
Traits & Characteristics
A pretty nice fellow, all things considered. Others may disagree, but that how he sees it.
Ex Trapper, buffalo hunter, legitimate trader, cattle drover and placer miner who saw the light and turned to pimping and sharping. Now hoping to cream off some money from Canadians coming down through Kalispell for the Black Hills Gold Rush.
Sniffing out money and human frailty.
Can shoot straight with his glasses on.
Knows about trapping, mining (shaft and placer) cattle and horse-stock, but would rather others do the work and he relieve them of the profits.
Speaks a little Crow.
Aliases / Nicknames
Looking for a suitable building to open a theater/brothel/casino/you name it, in Kalispell.
Kith & Kin
Father, Mother, Brothers and Sisters may or may not still be alive and kicking in Bowling Green, he doesn't know and doesn't care.
Born and raised: Bowling Green, KY 24th August 1846 - 22nd August 1864
Ran away from being conscripted by both sides in Kentucky, 1864.
1864: To avoid conscription by both sides in the civil war, he moved to West eventually making Fort Pierre, South Dakota to work as a trapper.
1867: a trader at Fort Berthold in the Dakota Territory and, for a time, married to an Indian woman, the sister of a warrior named Limping Bear. Subsequently a cattle driver, trader, placer miner.
1873: His annus mirabilis. Finally seeing the light at Frenchman’s Ford, Montana Territory, he stopped giving his hard earned gold to dance-hall managers, pimps, card sharps and underhand traders, he joined their ranks instead.
1875: Realizing that there was more money to made in the impending Gold Rush taking money off successful miners than panning for gold himself, he came to Kalispell to bottom out the options.
"Should I have any information to impart pertaining to the medical situation at hand, it will be for the benefit of those affected, rather than the sake of any particular camp."
"Bein' neutral they be callin' it," Robert nodded, he didn't the girl to do anything she was uncomfortable with.
"Well, I'm glad you know what she's talkin' about!" chuckled Lorenzo, this girl was wordier than Clara Lutz.
"Sounds good," Robert nodded.
"I'm sure that your partiality will be appreciated by all sides. I know that my cousin and the rest of his family value honesty and I see that you, Miss Leane have it in abundance. You will be a great asset to this venture."
Hell, the Irish girl was bringing out the slick, charming, gentlemanly side of Simons, it was stomach churning: did he realise that she was probably as poor as a church mouse? Maybe he just fancied the look of her.
Turning to him this Wentworth relative took his hand for a shake, "Nice to meet you."
A few quick pumps and that was that.
"Bobby here's a business associate of mine. Never boxed before, but fancied his chances when he heard what a pushover Charlie was likely to be." tested Lorenzo, seeing if he could trick Ben into giving away how the youngest Wentworth boy was shaping up in training.
Hullo Hector, I prefer Bobby or Robert meself," he held out his hand to the boy and gave him a hearty handshake. Pity they didn't allow women seconds? Aoife would be his choice in an instant.
"Howdy friend." grinned Hector. He didn't bother introducing his ugly sister. Crabbe busied himself testing the firmness of the posts, which the gruesome twosome had planted so deep that the bottoms were probably sticking out of a paddy field in China.
"Who is this Charlie Wentworth, anyway?" Aoife cut in. "Scholar...? Tailor...? Farmer...?"
Robert shrugged, "His job don't matter none, lass. I hear he likes the bottle a bit too much and has never fought before?"
"Ah, he'll be a pushover!" said Hector, waving his hand dismissively. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall." which was easy for him to say: he'd be watching from outside the ring.
He turned to Hector and the stern looking girl, "You two know this Charlie?"
Jemima was just about to open her mouth and tell the handsome boxer with the rippling muscles (probably) all about Charlie Wentworth, when her chance was stolen by some stranger entering the barn. She looked daggers at the man.
"Probably not," Ben answered before turning the nurse and tipping his hat. He then looked over to Crabbe and smiled, "Nice to see that you're not wasting any time."
"I never do!" replied Crabbe with his crocodile smile, then quickly let his crew know to whom they were talking: for in the politest way possible, Ben represented the 'enemy camp'.
"Kids, this is Charlie Wentworth's cousin and, no doubt by now, chief trainer, Ben Simons. So careful what you say. I think I can let you know, Ben, that this is your Charlie's opponent, as of ten minutes ago: Bob Cullen."
Jemima immediately loudly shouted "HE PREFERS BOBBY OR ROBERT!!!" which actually made Crabbe jump in the air and utter a "Jesus Christ!" before glancing at Hector and muttering "Can't you keep her on a lead or something!"
"Hector here's Bob...er, Bobby's second, and this here pretty young lady is our personal medical advisor, Miss Nurse Leane." he indicated Aoife loftily, betting that the Wentworth camp didn't have anything so impressive sounding (even if the title was actually quite meaningless).
"What d'ya think?" Mr. Crabbe proudly asked, but the frosty look on the Aoife's face made him shiver worse than when he'd been buried alive in the snow during a badly planned season trapping in the mountains.
Robert looked a great deal more pleased at the arrangements; Crabbe moved over and warmed himself on his enthusiasm.
"Oh, I've fought before with nothing more the crowd bein' the ropes of the ring ye might say. I remember once when I punched me opposite number how he fell back against the crowd and some big mug shoved him hard right back toward me. Right inta me fist he did. I won that fight by knockout it must be said," Robert grinned.
Crabbe nodded enthusiastically at this tale. "I bet that got the crowd excited, I like it!" he beamed. If he only had a couple of professional fighters he could choreograph to make exciting and interesting moves like that: to be honest, most fist fights were just cruel, bloody slogging matches with little skill or excitement except for the vampires in the crowd who wanted to see blood, and plenty of it, soaking the ground of the ring.
"This'll do just fine, I be thinkin'," he gave it his full approval even if the lass looked less than thrilled.
"Oh, this is just the start. We're gonna have seats there..." Lorenzo pointed at the makeshift stage "... and a bell, divide the thing up into rounds, see?... it'll last longer that way. And seconds... hey, Hector come over here!"
The lad ambled over and his sister followed. "Miss Leane." he nodded to Aiofe. Crabbe introduced him to Robert. "This is Hector Wigfall; he'll act as you second. I gotta look neutral, see?" to Hector, he just said "This is Bob Cullen, he's gonna be our ringer!"
"So, you're the feller who's gonna flatten Charlie Wentworth!" Hector grinned as he held out his hand and his sister looked over his shoulder, drinking Robert in and eying Aoife with a green glint of jealousy.
Mature Content: No.
Author: Lorenzo Crabbe.
With: Robert Cullen; Aiofe Leane; others? Location: Horace Simpkin's Storage Barn just on outskirts of town. When: Early June 1876 Time of Day: Afternoon.
Mr Fa left them on the walk down to Simpkin's Barn. Heaven help Horace if he ever had to actually store anything in there: seemed every other week there was some event or other hiring out the place: dances; shindigs; amateur theatricals; and now a boxing match! It was fast becoming the entertainment centre of the town. Crabbe, Miss Leane (who had come along despite Robert's insistence that such things weren't for 'Proper Wimmin') and Robert (whose services had been secured with mere spit and a handshake) made an odd trio perhaps as they made their way to the place, Crabbe doing a lot of talking, but not actually saying too much.
"... see, they set up a stage for a barn dance a few months ago, for the band you know, and that's still up , but I'm reckoning on using that for seating for folks to see the ring set up below, on ground level: got a couple of hired hands setting that up this afternoon, they might even be there right now..." he explained airily as they approached the place.
Indeed the barndoor was open and there was Hector Wigfall holding gingerly on to a thick wooden post, slotted into a hole in the dirt floor, and his sister Jemima swinging a large two handed mallet lustily onto the top of it. They heard Hector scream "Mind my fingers, you stupid idiot!" as they walked in. There were already three other posts firmly set in the ground and a deal of rope on the floor, ready to be tied to the posts to make a rudimentary, makeshift boxing ring.
Both twins stopped what they were doing and stood up straight, not out of respect for Crabbe (as if!) but for Hector to goggle at his mother's attractive Irish lodger, Aoife Leane, and for Jemima to stare at the handsome young stranger that their hirer had in tow. She was glad she'd worn the cleaner of her blouses now, even if it did show the sweat patches more. Lorenzo waved his hand around the barn loftily "What d'ya think?" he asked Robert and Aiofe proudly, like he'd just built the place itself.
That drew a noncommital 'we'll see' from the Irish lass to which Robert quickly added, "She has a job to do and her own life to live, ye know."
"Well, is that right?" he gave Aoife a little bow "Well, I do beg your pardon, Miss." That was more for Robert's benefit that the girl's, he clearly had the hottentots for her. Pretty as she was, Crabbe wouldn't have touched her with a bargepole - far too sniffy and stiff for his tastes.
Then the conversation turned really interesting! Crabbe was talking about boxing? He was looking to arrange a boxing match? Robert perked up, far more interested than contracts and courts. He did not even notice the warning look Aoife threw him.
"Wait! Yer wantin' a fighter? Someone to box? I have done me a bit of the fisticuffs in me past. Won some money at it too," Robert announced.
"Is that right?" queried Crabbe, looking surprised. He caught Aoife looking daggers and slouched sideways a bit so Robert would be less likely to catch the warning glance from the 'gay colleen' (well, miserable colleen was more like it).
"So there be some decent prize money for this? I might just do it........dependin' on who I'd have ta fight ."
"$100 Prize or a percentage of the door: your choice. Feller you'd be up against, Charlie Wentworth, he's a shade under your height, stockier I'll admit; but he's got too much experience with the bottle and none in the ring." Lorenzo enumerated the pros and cons of Robert's potential opponent.
"Say, why don't you come along to the barn where we're puttin' up the fight? I'll show you around." he looked at Aoife "You can come too, Miss, if you're not too busy doing your job and living your life." again, a little sardonic bow.
"I know, I know," he grumbled. "I was tryin' to prove a point. Wasn't tryin' to propose or nothin.'"
"Yeah, anyhow, this ain't about the rest of us, this is about Bridget and Mr. Connolly here, and their future happiness." agreed Crabbe, rather sanctimoniously. To an extent, he didn't think Caroline had much more of a future than he had: she lived a dangerous life. At least once in Helena, a jealous and love-struck admirer had pulled out a gun in her presence in a fit of 'If I can't have you, nobody will!' murderous intent. And the feller who'd saved her life that time? ... Crabbe wasn't sure, he'd only seen the hero's legs from under that table where he was hiding.
He stared at the floor as he listened to Crabbe speechify. The thought of breeding horses was appealing, as was looking for gold even though most gold around here was already gone, or going. Against his will he found himself enamored with visions of adventures funded by Crabbe's stipend.
"I'll think on it," he said grudgingly. "I'll think on it, Crabbe. But I don't cotton to neither me or Bridget bein' roped into this if it ain't good for us."
"That's all I'm asking, friend, all I'm asking: you just think on it and let me know." cooed Lorenzo, knowing that the angel on Mr. Connolly's right shoulder would argue far more eloquently and convincingly than he himself ever could.
He noticed the rest of his whiskey in his glass and picked it up, drained it quickly, then jerked his head toward the door. "C'mon, Mundee," he said curtly, unconsciously picking up Crabbe's title for the singer.
Crabbe just gave Caroline a tight little smile of farewell. They didn't need words.
[OOC: This one done for now? Unless C has some parting shots]
ooc: Oh she will, she will. I will post Friday sometime.
Looking up from reloading the carbine, Crabbe saw Mercier mounted up and riding past them all: heading on out of there. Unlike MacIntosh, he knew exactly what he had to do: ignoring the approaching Indians, he raised the carbine and took a shot at the horse: he knew his aim wasn't good enough to hit the man. Without really waiting to see the result, he threw down the carbine and dashed toward the escapee, pulling the colt revolver from his belt, his derby flying off in the pell mell rush to where horse and rider lay writhing.
Mercier was trapped under the dying animal. Crabbe pointed the revolver at the creature's wildly staring eye.
"I best put this animal out of its misery" he said in a dead voice. Then he moved the gun over, so that the supine Mercier was looking straight down its barrel.
He would have liked to have spent a lot more time on this, told Mercier exactly why he was going to be shot in the face in cold blood, but there just wasn't time: the scouts or the soldiers or even the Indians might be on him any second: he just gave himself the pleasure of grinning in Mercier's face and then pulled the trigger twice: the same number of times this piece of shit and his friend had raped his wife.
"Very well then, I believe you, sir. So now what do we do? I sign it and you round up some lawyer for our side?" he wasnt smiling now.
"You don't much like the idea of lawyers, do you son?" Crabbe grinned "Well, that's a healthy attitude, but sometimes you need 'em. Now, the feller we're dealin' with is Dick Orr. We need to go and see him at his house tomorrow or the next day..." Crabbe frowned "... say Miss, would you be willing to come along, too, and translate for your fellow countryman here: I mean, I could be as big a crook as the feller who tricked him in the first place, it'd be good if you could look over the papers we'll need to sign." reasoned Lorenzo, looking at Aoife.
Crabbe then dragged out a watch and frowned at it.
"I'd try and hunt Orr up now but I gotta go out and try and find myself a pugilist of all things!" he told the Irish pair, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of his own statement.
"Yeah, we got big fight lined up" chipped in Fa "Plenty big bets but only one boxer, it too one sided right now!"
"Yeah, at this rate I'll have to get someone to hold ma glasses and climb into the ring m'self." jested Crabbe grimly. It might actually come to that.
"You wouldn't marry a ranch hand, would you?" he demanded. "No privacy even if there was somewhere besides a bunkhouse for you to sleep. It just don't make sense, even for you."
"Even for me? Oh thanks!" Caroline raised one eyebrow at that line.
This, at least, gave Crabbe a grim chuckle "he he, even for Mundee." he repeated.
"And you already know I ain't marrying anybody. My career doesn't go with marrying anyone least til I get too old to perform and by then no one would want me. I told you once before, I can't afford to get pregnant in my line of work."
Lorenzo waved his hands in the air as if dispelling a cloud of off topic hot air. "Well, we ain't talkin' about your nupt'ls Mundee, we're talkin' about young Mr. Connolly here" he reminded her. "Now, look son, I ain't askin' fer an answer right now, I ain't askin' to know tomorrow, just you think on it and let me know when you're sure." he said, trying to avoid a knee-jerk 'no' from the handsome cow-poke.
"Just keep this in mind: with a guaranteed income, you don't have to be a cowboy anymore, if you don't want to be, you could open a store, breed horses, go prospectin' , anything. Why, you could be whatever you wanna be. You just think on that." he smoothly described a veritable land of Cockayne.
"We won't be stayin' long, lass. I just have me a favor to ask of ye? Remember when we talked about you someday maybe reading something for me? Well, that someday is today....that is if ye got the time?" Robert came right out with it, forgetting completely to introduce the two men with him.
The slick looking, bespectacled, besuited man made up the shortfall by stepping forward and doffing his derby.
"Lorenzo Crabbe, Miss, and this is my associate, Mr. Fa. He's Chinese, by the way, so don't take fright." The Chinese man gave a little bow.
I have here the very document to which Mr. Cullen alludes, to whit: One bill of transference by which our mutual friend Mr. Cullen here was most foully. horribly and, frankly Miss, easily, tricked out of his placer holdings. Please, Miss, er, Evie was it, would you be so kind as to read through this document copy, duly notarised by an official notary of the county, and confirm to him that this is, indeed, the import of the document he so innocently, but stupidly, let's face it, put his Cross to."
He gave her a grin of gratitude in advance, as he handed over the paper which, to be fair, was exactly what he claimed it to be.
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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