Jacob Lutz

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1. 

   The End of the Trail

   Friday at 07:03 PM

   Jacob didn't have to be away from Clara for too long for him to be amazed that she was his wife when he saw her again.
    
   Was this gorgeous, wonderful creature really married to him?! He had to pinch himself each time he saw her to convince himself it was real. But there she was, smiling at him with those welcome home eyes. 
    
   "Clara, I want you to meet my cousin Jess, Jess Matthews. He's my Aunt Hildie's other son, Raymond and Zenobia's brother." he explained. Clara would have been aware of the recent fatality in the family and, though the sister Zenobia kept herself pretty much to herself, the boy Raymond was a familiar sight running local telegrams for Western Union or helping out at Arabella's new employer, Jolly's Funeral Parlour. 
    
   He didn't mention Jess' truculent and troubled Father, Abraham Matthews, the town's unreliable barber.
    
   "Jess, this is my clever, beautiful and amazingly talented wife, Clara."
    
   @MD @Wayfarer
    
   [OOC: thought I'd better jump in there]
    
    
   
2. 

   The End of the Trail

   Tuesday at 04:42 PM

   "That sounds nice." He agreed and glancing down to Scrappy he raised a brow.  "You good if I go off with Jacob for a bit?  I'll catch up with you later." 
    
   "Sure!" replied scrappy, with perhaps a little too much alacrity - he was enjoying Caroline's company but it was loaded with guilt, he felt he should be more miserable in Jess's company!
    
   Once outside and walking with Jacob, his head down as he stared at his steps.
    
   "So what's Clara like?  Would I have known her from before I left?" He was trying to place the girl but he just couldn't.
    
   "Nah, her Pa moved here about the time you left. if you'd ever seen her, you wouldn't forget her, she's beautiful. The second I saw her, I fell in love with her, Jess. Then one night we were both at a hoe-down and, well, I would never haver have dared ask her for a dance, but Arabella introduced us and practically ordered us to dance together." he recalled with a misty look in his eyes.
    
   As they neared the diner, he did issue a warning, though: "Course, if it's busy in the diner, she might not be able to talk much right now." Clara could be a little short if you started trying to chat to her when she was overwhelmed with customers, understandably.
    
   @MD @Wayfarer
   
3. 

   The End of the Trail

   July 9

   "Yeah she is but don't name a baby Arabella, it's a horrid name," Caroline advised, as if this boy cared what she thought.
    
   Jacob frowned. Was Caroline mad at their mutual friend?
    
   "The girl from the funeral parlor?" asked the other man.
    
   "Yeah, Arabella... Arabella Mudd. She introduced me to my wife, Clara." Jacob informed Jess, hopefully clearing up any unfortunate misunderstandings on that score.
    
   "Yeah, she used to work here. She played the piano for my act and also did lots of chores around the place. But she up and quit us," Caroline explained, the tone of her voice indicating she was not happy about that turn of events.
    
   Again, young Lutz's brows contracted. He had actually asked Arabella what the saloon folk had thought of her leaving and she had replied, in her usual breezy way, 'oh, they're just thrilled to bits for me; it's a blow to lose me, of course, but they know it's bringing me one step closer to fulfilling my dreams!' or some such talk. Jacob thought Arabella's chances of becoming an actress in Kalispell, let alone New York, had about as much chance as a snowball in Hell, but admired her for keeping on trying, whereas he had given up his aspirations to be the next Longfellow at the first negative review of his verses (from a certain Miss Redmond, it so happened).
    
   The normally shy Jacob actually met Caroline's eyes for once. "Are you mad at her for leaving this place?" he asked half inquisitively, half defensively on behalf of the dark haired waif. He hadn't really meant the 'this place' part to sound disparaging, but it did.
    
   Scrappy immediately felt a little chill in the air (if only someone would buy him another tot of redeye to keep him warm) and tried to ameliorate it with a smile to Jess. "Us cowpunchers start and leave jobs at the drop of a ten gallon hat, ain't that right Jess, m'boy?" 
    
   @MD @Wayfarer
    
   
4. 

   The End of the Trail

   June 24

   Jess was predicably surprised that his younger cousin was married and that they were expecting a kid already.
    
   "A baby?" He couldn't help but smile in joy for his cousin, slapping his hand on his shoulder. "Can't believe you're gonna be a Pa."
    
   Jacob gave a bashful smile and refrained from mentioning that the conception of the baby came a little before, and was one of the catalysts to, the marriage. Not that mattered: he was married to the woman he loved, no matter what the complications. Baby Arabella Blank was just an added bonus. Jacob did feel a slight urge to assure Jess that they would name the baby after the bereaved son's recently deceased mother, if it was a girl, but he was sensible enough never to promise anything Clara might not approve of.
    
   "You'll make a good one." He nudged him some the smile leaving his face.
    
   "I hope so." nodded Jake, and he meant that. Of course, 'making a good father' in those days meant something a little different than centuries later: putting food on the table, clothes on backs and setting a good moral example and making sure that children grew up well mannered, useful to society and good Christians was about the sum of it.
    
   Jess told Jacob how he felt about his woeful family situation.
    
   "I just wish I could change everything. Wish I coulda gotten back in time and wish I could change Pa and Zenobia..." and then what hurt him possibly most of all besides his mothers death.... "and Raymond would hardly even speak to me.  I just know all this would hurt Ma something terrible."
    
   Jacob shrugged. "Zenobia's just Zenobia, I guess." Well, that was the extent of his philosophical evaluation of his stormy petrel of a cousin. "Ray'll come round, he's just piggy in the middle right now." he offered. Of his Uncle Abraham he offered no mitigating remarks. 
    
   He lifted his head and looked at his cousin. "I'm not sittin' with 'em tomorrow at the funeral.  I'm gettin' there early and sittin' in the back." He wanted someone to know and he knew he'd tell his Aunt Nellie later when he got to her house.  
    
   Jacob nodded glumly. He wasn't exactly looking forward to the funeral anyway, of course, the thought that a fight might break out made it even more of a potential ordeal: the diabolical chemical combination of Abraham, Jess, Zenobia, and granny Nellie was an almost terrifying prospect when he thought that his pregnant wife and his sickly sister Leonora would both be present.
    
   Then the alluring Miss Mundee started to compliment him on the birth of Baby Arabella, damn!, Baby Blank. Some crossed wires.
    
   "Ralph, I'll take my usual, thanks. And hey, don't charge young Mr. Lutz this one. It's on the house in honor of his newborn babe. Hope she's doin' well," Caroline offered.
    
   "Sure thing," Ralph of course poured a whisky from Caroline's special bottle under the shelf, colored water, "Congrats, kid."
    
   "Oh! No! Er... the baby's still inside the, erm... tummy." he said lamely. "She's not coming out until, er, well, it's quite a space. And, erm, Arabella thinks we're gonna call her after her but, well, I reckon there's only one Arabella!" he grinned sheepishly. Funnily enough, the madcap Arabella they both knew was a million miles from the sensitive Miss Mudd who had just helped Jess with the difficult duty of visiting his mother's body. 
    
   @Wayfarer @MD
   
5. 

   The End of the Trail

   June 16

   Jacob's attempt to make small-talk with the taciturn Mr Flandry was, inevitably, a failure and soon the arrival of a clearly distraught cousin Jess, still with his black crepe armband in place, put a further dampener on the mood. 
    
   "Howdy, Mr. Flandry," the man knew him apparently.
    
   "Howdy, can I help ya? "  Ralph meant as in serving him a drink, nothing  less nothing more.
    
   "You'd better get him a couple o' fingers of redeye, Jake" Scrappy suggested to Jacob, before adding cheerfully "I'll just have another beer thanks!" Jacob nodded confirmation to Mr Flandry and dug around for more money. How he would explain this unwonted expenditure to Clara he did not know. 
    
   Then something even worse made him freeze in horror - there approached the thing that every married man is most afraid of - a pretty girl with yellow hair and a red dress!! He pretended not to see her and took another parsimonious sip of his still full beer glass.
    
   "Well, well, I do believe the young men of Kalispell do seem to be getting more and more handsome  all the time," she greeted them.  She sort of knew Jacob Lutz thru Arabella and that he had married that brunette girl running the diner. That gal was visibly pregnant when she was last in the diner to buy a pie.
    
   Scrappy was torn between wanting to act sombre in front of his grieving pal Jess, and the attraction of this bar-room belle. Poor Jess, he didn't stand a chance!
    
   "Jacob, you know if that ....farm girl of yers hadn't snapped you up, I mighta claimed you for myself. How ya been? Your wife doin' well, I hope?" she beamed, eyes sparkling as she gave him a playful pat on one cheek.
    
   "Er, yeah, Clara's fine, and baby Arabella. Thanks for asking Miss Mundee." he mumbled into his beer, his face going an even brighter red than the singer's dress! He was so nervous of being caught talking to the glamorous singer that he inadvertently used the name for the foetus which he used to tease his wife. 
    
   Scrappy had no such qualms, whipping off his big cowboy hat in the presence of a lady. 
    
   
    
   "Well Howdy, beautiful! Miss Monday is it? And as pretty every other day of the week too, I'm sure!" he drawled, bowing and sweeping his battered hat like a cavalier of old, doing his dusty best to ooze Southern charm. "Permit me to introduce myself, Mr. Clement Craddock of Kosse, Texas, Scrappy to my friends, perhaps you already know my esteemed partner in cowography, Mr Jesse Matthews..." he had no idea that Caroline had only arrived in Kalispell this year and didn't know Jess from Adam's off-ox. "And my new friend Mr. Lutz, it seems, has the unbearable pleasure of being already acquainted with your glorious self." Unbearable? Wrong word, but he pushed on.
    
   "Say Jake, Miss Monday looks thirsty, why don't you throw a drink into her, I mean, er, would you permit us to buy you some form of liquid refreshment, 'fair vison of my idyll'?" he asked, trying to keep his baby blue eyes fixed on hers, and not her cleverly upholstered cleavage. 
    
   Jacob was grateful that the pint sized Casanova, Scappy, was taking care of the scary blonde siren, even if he was footing the bill. He turned to Jess as the latter's stiff drink appeared. 
    
   "All right?" he asked softly. Cousin Jake was the thoughtful member of the clan; he even used to write poetry, until his wife asked him to please stop it. "Hard, isn't it?" The death of his aunt had made him think about the death of his own mother all those years ago, when he and Jess were at school together, and how it had affected him at the time.
    
   @MD @Wayfarer
    
    
   
6. 

   The End of the Trail

   May 31

   "It's sure good to see you, Jake." He greeted the boy and stepped back motioning towards his friend. "This here's my good friend Clement, call him Scrappy though.  Met him on the range." He said with just a small smile touching one corner of his lips, looking at Scrappy "Scrap, meet my cousin Jake."
    
   There were gruff nods and howdies between the young men. 
    
   "Guess you just got in." he surmised "I'm sorry you were too late. Did you get the telegram Ray got Hector to send? Your Pa wouldn't let him send one himself." the distant cousin related.
    
   "Wouldn't let him send one himself?!" he replied to Jake.  Wouldn't let his own brother send him a telegraph to tell him about his Ma being on her death bed!?!?
    
   Jacob wanted Jess to know that poor Raymond wasn't completely culpable, the poor boy had been in a very invidious position and had done his level best to let his big brother know just how ill his mother had been after he left (because he had left, his father would say): he hadn't meant to stoke the already smouldering coals of enmity between Jess and his father. But he realised he had done just that, and he quietly kicked himself for the mistake. 
    
   His jaw locked, his teeth clenching as he let the news settle... he turned on his heel muttering under his breath as he stormed towards the door. "I'm going to let that old brute have it!" He yelled as he stormed back towards the house. 
    
   Both Jacob and Scrappy immediately started after him, only his cousin had the temerity to actually grab ahold of him: they'd fought and played together enough as kids that it wasn't so much of an invasion. "Hey hold on, come on!" Jacob intoned softly. "You got the rest of your life to settle with your Pa, you've only got today to say goodbye to your Ma." he looked sad, not so much for his Aunt, her pain was over at least, but for those she left behind: Jess, Raymond, himself and his sisters, poor Granny, who was slowly seeing all of her family dying off before her; Jacob even had empathy enough to spare some drops of pity for his brooding, never pleasant, Uncle Abe and the always difficult Zenobia.
    
   "Listen..." he said slipping the black armband off his arm and handing it to Jess "... why don't you go and see her? I'll take Scrappy to see the sights of Kalispell... that's kinda the one saloon..." he told the short cowboy "... and you can join us afterwards." he offered. 
    
   "Ask for Miss Mudd at the funeral place, she's... she'll take you to where Aunt Hildie is. I've been, she... she looks so peaceful..." He knew that phrase sounded hackneyed and trite, but it was true.
    
   @MD
   
7. 

   The Ghastly Smile of the Dead

   March 25

   Jacob gulped the stuff down. Jesus! Put hairs on his chest? More likely to burn 'em off! Still he was grateful for it. It helped. "Thank you, sir." he said, genuinely. He was suddenly embarrassed by the empty glass: did he put it back down on the officer's desk, keep holding it, offer to wash it up?!
    
   Stupid, that you could feel socially embarrassed when the stark dead were lying out there somewhere, and two women were facing the most terrible ordeal imaginable. He thought of Clara - how she had nearly been killed by the redskins; imagining if it were her who had been snatched. He suddenly longed to hold her. 
    
   The Captain snapped him out of it. 
   
   "Alright now, one thing I don't get so far. You are sayin' the Indians got two white women? So how do you know that? Did you see them take the women? Or are you guessing they grabbed these white women?"
    
   Jacob knew that if he wasn't careful, this was going to sound stupid and potentially even make the officer call off the patrol. On the other hand, he was no use at lying (Clara was a lucky girl in that respect!).
    
   "Well, I figured miss Chappel would have been driving, she usually takes the stage out to Helena of a Tuesday. I knew Miss Mundee was on board because a friend told me, she was worried about it, just a hunch, I guess, a funny feeling about it." he shrugged. He was careful not use the word 'Premonition' or the name 'Arabella Mudd'. "That's why I carried on, after I found the soldiers. Silly really, I just... well, I guess it's just as well I did." he said, hoping the Captain didn't think he was crazy.
    
   @Wayfarer @Flip
   
8. 

   The Ghastly Smile of the Dead

   March 23

   "Alright...slow down now.  I'm gonna ask some questions, just calm down and answer them as best you can, son," he stated as calm as he could be, needed to set an example.
    
   Jacob had naturally expected the officer in charge to grab his gun and his horse and summon the soldiers and ride out of there within seconds, he really wasn't prepared for a whole bunch of dumb questions. The man could ask them on the way. "No, we need to go now! We..." he sighed and his shoulders drooped, he knew it would be Barlow's way or no way. "All right. But hurry please."
    
   "First off, you saw all of this or you were told about it?"  Too often people passed on rumors and those often turned out to be exaggerated or even false.
    
   "I've seen it with my own eyes! I never gonna stop seeing it!" he said, suddenly feeling quite sick. Before, when he had been there, it had seemed like he was looking at something in a dream. Now, talking about it to another person, it all seemed suddenly more real. Luckily for his manly pride, he hadn't got anything left in his stomach to sick up.
    
   "Oh, do you need a drink to wet your whistle?"  Nervous folks could have dry mouths, his own got that way just before a battle.
    
   "No!... Sir. Did you hear me, they got two white women and I dunno, I don't know who else was on the stage. Dan Ross is dead, and a lady and a boy, I... I recognised them but I don't know their names. They were all... cut up... yeah, can I have a drink, Sir?" he said, a drink, a slug of something. Just to stop himself talking about it if nothing else. 
    
   @Wayfarer @Flip
   
9. 

   The Ghastly Smile of the Dead

   March 18

   Jacob had to ride nearly all the way back to Kalispell to deliver the news, hooking right and following the lake around until he got to Fort Somer. He was fortunate in one respect: any other gangly youth approaching might have been turned away by the bored looking guards at the open gate, but with his Western Union satchel hanging at his side and his long rifle jutting up in its holster, he was by now a familiar sight, bringing telegraph messages to the lonely posting from the nearby 'big city' of Kalispell. Today the lad seemed in an awful hurry though, and his horse was specked with foamy lather. 
    
   As he rode in he shouted "Take me to the duty officer, Indian trouble!" dismounted and shoved the reins into someone's hands: this imprecation was only a formality, he was jogging off to the Colonel's office unescorted. He knew the way from his previous visits, and there was no time to waste on ceremony. 
    
   He burst in to the office: Captain Barlow was there: a grumpy veteran officer, somewhat surly at the best of times, but a man who knew what he was about. That final factor was worth more than friendliness and pleasant manners in the world right now.
    
   "Captain Barlow, Sir!" Jacob panted "Indian trouble on the road to Helena: two of your fellers dead by a wagon and the stagecoach hit a little further on. Three dead, I think at least two white women captivated." 
    
   @Wayfarer @Flip
    
   
    
   
10. 

    The Ghastly Smile of the Dead

    March 16

    Any other day he would have turned back there and then, ridden pell-mell for Kalispell or, perhaps, the Fort and think himself damn lucky not to be lying stretched out of the ground, too, stripped and cut to ribbons: no longer a man, just a suppurating, stinking feast for the flies and the turkey vultures.
     
    But he couldn't could he? Damn Arabella! Damn her to Hell!
     
    Remounted, he pushed on, wondering to himself how far he would push it. He went a good long way along the trail, waiting any minute for a feathered head to raise itself above the long grass or a shot to sing out and corkscrew through his head before he even heard it coming. But it was eerily quiet. Bees buzzed, birds called in the air or sang from the far off trees. Apart from that, just the sound of his own breathing, and Peloponnese,  and the creak of leather and wood of his horse furniture.
     
    Then he heard it. Peloponnese heard it too. A horse's whinny. It was a struggling noise, though, not normal. Jacob was scared, more scared than he had ever been in his life. Even asking Clara Redmond for a dance all those months ago wasn't this terrifying. But he had to go and see. There was a curve in the road and Jacob pulled out his rifle and tying up his horse, snuck through the undergrowth like he was stalking game. But when he appeared out the other side, his heart thumping like a hammer, the only living thing was a dying horse: one he didn't dare shoot to put out of its misery. There, too, was a shot up stagecoach and a number of dead people.
     
    Mr Ross looked like he had gone quickly at least, wounds in his back and one that had carried off most of his jaw. He hadn't been mutilated or stripped, unlike the next pair, down on the ground was a disembowelled boy with an arrow sticking out of his chest, almost like a caricature of an Indian attack victim, and a once-attractive woman with her throat cut. Probably the same bunch as had attacked the soldiers, but this scene was different, more confused. Someone had put up a fight maybe; the mutilations were hurried, the attackers hadn't stuck around. It was more recent, too, although the flies were already making their presence felt. 
     
    Jacob frowned and looked about. There would have been another driver or shotgun. Mr Ross was dead. Miss Chappel maybe? No sign of her anywhere, and, of course, the reason he had followed the trail this far out... Miss Mundee. No. They had either made a run for it and were dead among the forest and prairie grass, or they had been captured, to face a fate worse than death. He looked about for some sign of which way the war party might have gone, but he knew that only an Indian would be able to work that out. He headed back to Peloponnese with a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach, pity for the dead who were victims of this attack, pity more for those who were still, possibly, alive.
     
    [TBC]