Pre-occupied with his experiments and bothered by the attempts of his housekeeper to keep order in his ramshackle library-cum-laboratory of a house.
To feed mankind!
Stocks and Bonds, Agricultural Science.
Aliases / Nicknames
'The Professor' 'Farmer Brown' 'The odd Farmer'
Residential Area of Kalispell.
Kith & Kin
None in this world.
Born 3rd June 1816, Amherst, MASS, where his Father taught Agricultural Studies.
After numerous office jobs, young F.F. found his way to New York, banking and the burgeoning stock market after the big crash of '37. Indirectly profiting from the Slavery of the South and the arms race of the War Years, F.F. Browne sold up in 1867 and returned to his early interest in Agriculture and Scientific progress in the pursuit of happiness for all mankind.
In 1874, in order to find peace and quiet to work in, and to try out his theories, he moved to the remote township of Kalispell, Montana.
Falmer Browne is a gentleman of some breeding and refinement, rich enough and sated enough on the 'blood money' as he calls it, that he accrued in the past, to be completely unambitious in everything except his pursuit of the Benefit of All Mankind. He is a vegetarian for Scientific reasons. He is rather fond of the ladies, but gallant and courteous, and tries not to let them distract him from his important work..
Her smile was a bit wistful as she added, "There's times I wonder if I wasn't born in th' wrong time an' th' wrong britches."
F. Falmer Browne gave an indulgent smile to this but said nothing. He would have to admit to himself that when he had first lain eyes on Miss Adelaide Chappell, now sat before him in all the becoming trappings of a woman, virtually dressed as a man on her wagon-driving expeditions in and out of town, he had wondered. True, male attire was handier for her trade, but she seemed to go that way at most hours of the day, except for very formal functions like the Ladies (so called!) Society Meeting of this morning.
When he had lived in the vast metropolis of New York, that Sodom and Gomorrah of these disunited United States, he had seen two types of women dressed as men: the first were demimondes of the stage, who dressed as ‘boys’ in fanciful tights to merely titillate their audiences (usually successfully, Browne had to admit) with a well-shaped leg, and secondly, some women of the more bohemian quarters who dressed as men because, apart from their physical form, they were men, in their own minds.
Walking with a friend down Broadway, he had seen two such women, walking arm in arm, and his friend had remarked “See those creatures, Browne? Disgusting! God must weep when He sees such sinful animals on parade. The police should arrest them and some Judge put the filthy animals to hard labor on the treadmill.” Browne had, cowardly he now knew, consented, but really wondered if it was not God Himself who had played such a rotten trick on them. At least in New York, teeming with every nation and type under the Sun, two such ‘creatures’ might find each other. For any man or woman ‘that way inclined’ out here in a small town like Kalispell, such proclivities must result in a lonely and loveless life indeed.
Addy’s talk of Jay Ryker and their evident love for one another did Browne good to hear, despite a slight pang of jealousy: it meant that this lovely woman was not destined for a life of loneliness. There must be others in town, though, hidden and trapped in their unusual sexuality, who were destined to ever drink from the well of loneliness.
"I do know Massachusetts," Addy declared, "'though I ain't never been there, an' I know England's over th' Atlantic Ocean, but didn't know it had a 'mid-lands'." Chuckling, she added, "Well, I reckon every country's got mid-lands, an' up-lands, an' down-lands of some sort!"
“Yes, indeed” chuckled Browne “I suppose that we’re sort of in the Midlands of America here, well, the top of the midlands, anyhow.” He looked around the room, like it represented Montana.
"Might well wanna go ta England some day, see all them castles an' whatnot," she said, grinning, "see real knights in armor, an' London...seen some pictures once, in a stereoscope, so they seemed really real, like ya could just reach out an' touch 'em!"
Falmer Browne had visited Europe, but he felt it would sound like crowing if her talked about that at this juncture. He was sensitive like that. But he did venture one factette. “You know, I met a knight once, Sir Thomas Fleming, in New York. Poor fellow, everybody he was introduced to was disappointed that he was wasn’t wearing a full suit of medieval armor! I owned an iron foundry at the time and offered to have a suit made to measure for him, but said he was scared he might fall into the Hudson when he was wearing it and sink to the bottom!”
He also forbore to mention that he had a stereoscope somewhere, too, as he couldn’t remember which set of double photographs he had left in the viewer. It might have been “Views of the Rappahannock” or something slightly saucier.
"All th' interestin' things ya got here, it's gonna be more th' boy overstayin' his welcome," Addy chuckled, "he'll be here all th' time, but I reckon if he learns somethin', can't argue that. An' he'll wanna pay ya back, doin' chores." Laughing, she shook her head. "Well, he might not want ta, but he will...always understood that sorta trade."
“Oh, no need to do chores here, he’ll be putting poor Jemima out of a job!” laughed Browne amiably. There was pause for thought behind that laugh though; for many years he had obtained ‘money for nothing’ by exploited unknown, unseen others. But payback had come: not in financial terms, but in moral bankruptcy. It pained him yet. Maybe ‘Weedy’ would be better off paying his dues.
"'Course, sometimes I think he's usin' chores as an excuse not ta do his homework!"
“Ah, I must talk to him about his academic studies! Is there any subject that the little fellow is particularly interested in? I may have some books he would find of interest.”
Addy then answered his question about her intended.
Again, she laughed, then shrugged. "Th' enormously fortunate gent's Jay Ryker, he does odd jobs here an' there, mostly carpenter stuff." She wasn't sure the man would know Jay, and certainly he wouldn't know about Jay. "But he talks kinda funny, like you...real pretty accent...ain't from th' South, nor Germany, can tell ya that!"
“I can assure you, Miss Chappell, that I am a pure American, born and bred, all the way from Amherst, Massachusetts. But yes, I have not had the pleasure of being introduced to your Mr. Ryker, but I have heard his accent, en passant, and yes, an Englishman, from the Midlands of that nation if my ears do not deceive me.”
"Boy was on his own, pretty much, when I first come here...just a little sprout...like a Weed." She grinned at the memory. "He started comin' 'round th' barn, askin' ta help an' all...didn't take long ta figure out he was lookin' fer food...sometimes a safe place ta stay."
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Said Falmer Browne gravely. He had enjoyed all the advantages of a stable home and a loving home as a boy, and the more he saw of the misery in the world, the want and neglect, the more he realised what a lucky hand he himself had been dealt.
Sighing, she shrugged. "His ma was..." no use defaming the dead, "she just wasn't meant ta be a ma, an' I never did know what become of his pa. But I'm not th' only one in town that looked out fer him. He was with me most th' time, but he always had a meal, a place ta sleep, someone ta get him his needs."
To know what this bright, intelligent, curious boy had been through fair brought a stinging tear to the older gentleman’s sentimental eye. “Poor fellow.” He muttered “Poor fellow.”
The town really had come together for the boy. "His ma was killed in Whitefish, so he's mine now, I reckon. There's folks I can ask fer help...got my intended, an' there's Marshal Guyer, Miz Emeline at th' Lickskillet, an' her intended, Deputy Pike...Doc Danforth..."
“… and I hope, Miss Chappell, that after our joint venture to Helena, you will not think too little of me to include my name in that fine company!” he said with a sincere smile. He wanted to reach out and squeeze the good woman’s hand in approbation of what she had done for the boy. But more than just the normal rules of propriety restrained him. One of the persons that she had mentioned as a very present help in her hours of need caught his ear more than the rest.
“Oh! Your intended… er, would I happen to know this enormously fortunate gentleman?”
"Don't rightly know what 'condritress' is, but if ya say so, I believe every word!" She held out her glass for a refill. "Ya keep usin' them fancy words yer liable ta turn a gal's head...or get shot by some jasper that thinks yer insultin' him." She chuckled. "'Course, ya keep th' libations flowin', all should be good!"
Falmer Browne dutifully filled Addy's glass while the sound of Weedy and Jemima's squeals of laughter sounded from the greenhouse at whatever antics pocket gophers got up to, when let out of their cages. The Wigfall girl was a simple but pleasant soul, and so reassuringly plain (crueller souls might even say 'ugly'). Browne blessed the day he had found a maid so utterly un-fall-in-lovable to scrub his floors and scrape out his grate.
Miss Adelaide Chappel on the other hand ... no ...NO. The Work! The Great Work!!
She downed the next glass of whisky and grinned brightly. "Did not know whisky could taste so good! I'll surely need a bottle'er two'a this fer myself. How long ya plannin' we'll be in Helena, anyway?"
"Oh, I shall have the entire shipment ready to go with my agent there" the man assured her "We can stay as long or as short a time as you see fit, Miss Chappel, for you are the Mistress of all on this land-voyage. La conductrice par excellence!" he suddenly held his head.
“Oh, do forgive me: for some reason the combination of good whiskey and the presence of a beautiful woman always brings out the Frenchman in me!!” he said, trying to focus on less romantic notions.
“Ahhh… what of young Mr James? I presume that you have a safe haven for him while you are way on such visits. I can’t help but notice that you have a very proper and healthy concern for the young fellow’s safety and you must no doubt fret for him whilst you are sur le … er, ‘On The Road’”.
"Common sense?" Addy couldn't help it, even though she knew that wasn't what he meant. Grinning, she laughed, although she had to allow as that he had a good idea.
Falmer Browne stifled a laugh, but then had to burst out in mirth himself. Ah, Adelaide Chappel, beautiful and funny! How was he to survive a trip to Helena and back without falling madly in love with this woman?! The Work! He must always remember the importance of the Great Work! His petty infatuations must take second place to that, always.
"Could talk ta Doc Boone an' Doctor Danforth ta see if they need anything?" There might be medications or equipment that they hadn't considered getting, since the logistics were too complicated.
“Hmmm, esoteric medicants and pharmaceuticals, indeed. Good thought!” the man nodded, impressed with Addy’s acumen.
She shrugged. "We can ask around if anyone is wantin' somethin'. "Maybe th' saloon might want some'a that fancy liquer, or th' cafe might need somethin'?" It would be easy enough to ask.
“Oooh, yes! We could bring along an extra crate of Ald Smellie for a start and sell that to them. I would go in there more often if they had that on their shelves!” he added, even though the businessman in his cried out against selling something, only to buy it back again at a greater price.
He looked at Addy admiringly.
“I must say, my dear Miss Chappel, you would make a splendid businessman, er, businesswoman. As it is you make a more than splendid…” he searched for a suitably descriptive term for her job which also encapsulated her deliberately hidden but undeniable feminine charms “… conductrice.”
"It's good that th' boy can see new things," Addy declared before taking another swig of the whisky, "expand his horizons, so ta speak." For someone who had never been to school, she firmly believed in education, and that that didn't necessarily mean spending time in a classroom.
“Montgomery will no doubt be as excited to meet Porter fellow as the young fellow seems to be to meet him.” Smiled Browne.
"Down ta business, I suppose?" Grinning, she grabbed up another treat and popped it into her mouth, washing it down with more whisky.
“Indeed” agreed the philanthropist, taking another swig himself. “You know, I have been so intent on getting hold of my scientific instruments, and looking forward to having a whole case of this fine stuff to hide from Mrs O’Houlighan, that it did not occur to me that there may be other light freight we can ship up from Helena on this trip.”
Although his days of wheeling and dealing were long over, old habits died hard, especially when lubricated by strong spirits. “What it is that Kalispell lacks which can be found in plenty in the warehouses of Helena?” he wondered out loud, not necessarily expecting an answer from Miss Chappel.
F. Falmer Brown was enjoying having company and starting to feel a little fuzzy headed from the pure and powerful whiskey, but he did not forget that Miss Chappel was here for a purpose. However, before he proceeded with that, he did not forget to look to the needs of the curious young boy in their midst. When enough cake had been munched and enough lemonade imbibed, he moved to the next point on his agenda.
“Now Porter, if I may use you so familiarly, Miss Chappel and I have some rather dull business to speak about, which I do not wish you to sit through in boredom!” he said, addressing the lad with all the honesty and candour that he would bestow upon a grown up. “Now that Lamia is securely in her tank, it is safe to introduce you to another member of our household!” he said mysteriously.
He picked up a little bell from the table, the smaller of two. He held it up and gave it a gentle ting-a-ling, and a few seconds later an attentive Jemima appeared.
“Ah, Jemima! Would you take Mister James here through to the greenhouse, and introduce him to Montgomery?” he bade the frowsey servant and then, remembering Addy’s strange overprotective attitude to the boy, added “With your permission, of course, Miss Chappel. The greenhouse is just next door, and Montgomery nothing more harmful than my pet Geomyidae, er, that is a pocket gopher, in the common parlance.” Even that might be too much for the nervy adoptive mother of the boy. “We can go and talk in there too, if you wish.” He offered.
"Oh, no, ain't no one ever gonna suspect." Grinning, Addy accepted the drink, then took a small sip and sighed. "Oh, that's right good!" She'd had plenty of whisky in her day, some of it actually decent for being from a saloon, and not all of it was watered-down, but this was exceptionally smooth. "Ya sure that's even whisky? Ya bring this on th' trip ta Helena, I'd be happy as a warthog in September!"
Falmer Browne held up a finger “Miss Chappel, we shall not only take some bottles of this finely distilled malt to Helena with us, we shall bring a couple of crates back with us!” he promised her “A secondary consideration to the scientific instruments, of course, but still a consideration!”
In the mean time, Weedy was eyeing the pastries, and finally got antsy, figuring that, as a guest, the goodies had been offered, he reached for one and popped it into his mouth, then broke into a wide grin and reached for another. What a great idea to make them all little like this, so you could try one of everything before deciding what was best!
“Oh yes, tuck in! Tuck in indeed!” beamed ‘The Professor’ reaching for a funny little orange colored cake with a white fondant on top and popping it into his mouth. “Taste one of these: you won’t believe that anything made of carrots can taste so good!” he enthused. “Careful of those ones, they’re ginger and burn your mouth! The combination of that and the lemonade might cause an explosion of unbelievable magnitude!” he jested in ribald fashion, the whiskey starting to take effect. Alcohol tended to go to his head; Mrs O’Houlighan kept the strong stuff locked away for that reason; and he, consequently, kept it hidden from her!
"For Miz Addy, too!" Weedy put in, not wanting her to be left out, of course...not that he wouldn't enjoy the treats anyway.
“Oh, especially for Miz Addy!” rejoined the older man. “For your Miz Addy, and her remarkable talents are about to enable me to complete a number of scientific experiments that will make starvation and want a thing of the past for all of Mankind!” It was quite a boast, especially as it was then followed by a very mundane piece of domestic query.
“Do you take tea, Miss Chappel? Or could I offer you a glass of Madeira or…” he checked Mrs O’Houlighan wasn’t listening “… a wee dram of the good stuff?”
"I do believe I'd be remiss ta turn down such a generous offer," she murmured back with a grin, "an' no sense wastin' time with 'wee', is there?"
“Ah!” nodded Falmer Browne, evidently pleased with this answer. He held up a finger, as if to say wait one moment, and then, when cakes had been delivered and the two servants had withdrawn, he tiptoed over to a sideboard and produced a couple of whiskey tumblers. Then he made a similar creep toward a large and lavishly illustrated edition of Dante’s Inferno on one of the bookshelves, pulling it out and reaching into the gap for a bottle of something golden looking.
“Ah, she hasn’t found it!” he said, checking a scratch-mark on the label that was level with the top of the liquid. Taking the bottle he poured a generous portion of the potion with a glug into each of the glasses, and then hid the bottle again behind Dante.
He handed one of the glasses to Addy and then proffered the cake tray and a small dish to Weedy. “Eat all the cakes you like, Mr. James, but whatever you do… never dare to peep into the book which I use to hide the bottle of “Ald Smellie” (for that was the brand of the scotch) “It contains illustrations so terrifying that even Mrs O’Houlighan dares not touch it, and she is not a woman to be easily cowed.”
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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