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  1. Yesterday
  2. Brendan was still grinning at the curses he heard when the door to the outhouse creaked. He looked up to see who had woken up before him. It was Billy. Or was it Benny? Somethin' with a B at the beginning, like his name. Whatever his name was, Brendan was struck once again by how young the man looked. Looked like he shouldn't be working on a ranch by himself. But at least he was friendly, waving and making a comment about the weather. Brendan raised two fingers to the side of his head in a sort of salute and scooted to the edge of the stoop so he could see the sky. "Think you're right about the scorcher, but I don't got ex-per-i-ence with Montana winters. This'll be my first." He broke the big word up into little bits so they would come out easier. He glanced at Billy's bare feet and lifted one side of his mouth. "Brave walkin' across the yard like that. Don't you know snakes like to hide in outhouses?" His tone was light and teasing so his words wouldn't come across the wrong way. It didn't matter how tough a man's feet were; they were no match for a rattler's fangs.
  3. Bannister drove the buggy while Santee rode his horse. The streets were fairly chewed up from traffic as folks got out between storms. The sun had a way of breaking out on and off, and that helped in the melting of the snow in the streets. Brute labor of shoveling off the boardwalks had piled the snow to nearly blocking any visibility out of the windows. But openings had been made at every doorway, some wider than others, allowing access to every shop along Main Street. Bannister stopped the buggy at the Municipal Building for a two fold visit. Her brother, and Marshal Speed Guyer. Case would be first on the list. She made her way the few steps to and onto the porch, stamping her boots to free them of the snow and mud, she opened the front door and walked inside. Guyer had the front office with the Window facing the street, Case would be in the back office which was for a non-existent County Sheriff so she went directly back and through the office door. Case was in is recuperating in the first cell, of which the door hung wide open. It had all the trappings of some sort of recovery room. He had a table which held a wash basin, bandages for his head wound and an array of medications, such as aspirin, and liniments. He was sitting up when she walked in. “Little sister.” He greeted. “Seems to me you’ve got Pa in a tizzy. If it weren’t for the snow and the disaster in Whitefish, the boys’d be out huntin’ you.” “Really?’ She responded. “And you? Which side would you be on big brother? Daddy’s or mine? Loaded questions I know, but I need to tell you I am taking precautions in the event he actually trys to kill me,” “Kill you? No, no little sister, he wants you back on the Evergreen, where he says you belong.” Case remarked quite candidly. He smiled, “I wouldn’t expect them to be too genteel with you, nor would I expect that you’d ever be allowed to move about freely.” He let that sink in for a few moments then added, but he shouldn’t expect my help, and neither should you.” “Like I thought you would be there for me against our father? Ha, well, your town is gone, your outlaw friends are either scattered, or on the Evergreen to do daddy’s bidding. Which I might point out leaves us both subject to his wrath.” Leah pointed out. Case was speechless at her points. So she concluded the visit with, “I’ve business with Marshal Guyer. Take care of yourself, Case, it’s something you’re really good at.” She turned on a heal and walked out of the office and down the hall.
  4. Fortunately, there were no customers at the moment, so she smiled and nodded to the table. "I'll get us some coffee and you can tell me all about it." “Didn’t mean ta scare ya, like I said, wasn’t no trouble,” He apologized. As he hung up his coat and hat on one of the pegs. “Ain’t quite sure what jest happened, she’s down in one of the shanties, visualize thet! He walked over to the table they would use between customers and sat down, waiting on her and the fresh coffee. but had to say...“Her’n Doc Danforth are planning ta build a hospital, an’ foller thet with a orphanage.” Tag @Bongo
  5. "Who said anything about paying you?" Emeline gave him a playful nudge then set about beating the eggs. "What with you eating me out of house and home...or cafe, just a better way to earn your keep!" “I reckon so, I’d say it’s purdy much a keep worth keepin’.” He said dryly. “Had ta do thet more’n once in this life. She was kidding, of course, he did far more than she asked, and didn't take advantage of her offers of food, and anything he did have was more than paid back with his help and presence. "When they're done, you can pile them on a plate, then sit them on the stove and cover them with a cloth...that will keep them warm." “Know’d thet trick from the trail.” Pike stated with a note of pride in his voice. “Early days we made a few drives up from the Ranch. Nothin’ ta brag on, jest some cows, Pa, an’ ma brother Samuel an’ Silas Learned ever’ job they was on the trail from ‘hoodlum’ to point man." Cooking for a few was one thing, but on this scale was quite different, and it had taken her time to learn some tricks. "What else can you make?" she asked, grinning, "so I know what to recruit you for...like I said, less work for me if I can put you and Clara to more work!" “Had a ‘Cousie’, a cook I mean, teach me ta make a mean Son of a Gun stew. Mostly trail food. Not nothing like what you put out. So now ya know a bit more ‘bout me then ya did. Things I kin get done when I set ma mind to it. ‘Er was then “if” I set ma mind to it.” She laughed, then refilled his coffee and took a sip of her own. He began the process of scooping the finished flapjacks onto a plate and covering, then repeating the process. Tag @Bongo
  6. "I inherited a piece of land but it's not worth a dime. Too dry, no water supply, not chance of farming it. Why my great uncle bought it, I don't know. I guess he was fooled." Aurelian frowned, "Oh that is bad luck. It happens though, I've heard of folks buying land sight unseen, never a smart thing to do. Least it didn't cost you anything. Also you might be able to dump it for dirt cheap and it's still a little profit." Clara was listening even as she had begun the meal preparations and mumbled, "There is always one idiot who will buy it. Your uncle proved that." Aurelian barely heard that but could only hope their guest hadn't caught it. His daughter did not varnish her opinions. "How much do you pay for a small farm around here?" (ooc: You would ask a question like that, lol, I have no idea.) Aurelian told the man what he paid for it then added, "But I have no idea what the going price for small farms is in general. Needless to say I stopped looking around after I bought this place." "Mind if I ask how you earn your dollars?" Again Clara muttered, "Sure asks a lot of questions." "Well, we grew corn and a whole mix of garden stuff - tomatoes, beans, squash, turnips, carrots, potatoes," Aurelian explained, "We sell or trade 'em in town. Also we do canning. Keep some for long term, sell some of that too. We are always on the lookout for jars it seems." He smiled.
  7. Looking down at the girl, he smiled again, "No, you don't talk too much but and if you haven't already want to make any man remember you, then as Robert Browning said in one of his poems, less is more." Arabella hadn’t heard of this Bob Browning feller, Sir Walter Scott was about as sophisticated as her reading had ever gotten, but what he said tied in with the advice that her old aunt Rosie and her new bosom friend Clara Redmond had intimated: that in life, and especially in love, the wise girl kept her cards close to her chest. "Now as to who I am, my name is Matthew Wentworth and as I said I own the St. Belle. I have an idea who your gallant rescuer is but the question is, would he like me to tell you. For all I know, he may want to remain your mysterious benefactor." Arabella fought the urge to push the man over the balustrade and into the muddy street beyond, to jump up and down on his chest, to slap his face silly, to pull off his boots and socks and tickle his feet, in short, to commit any and every torture upon his person to make him loosen his tongue and tell her the name! Instead, she dug her nails further into the palm of her hand and wrestled for self-control, nodding her head in comprehension to buy her time and think what her next move would be. She got it. Narrowing her eyes, and leaning in a little toward this odiously tight-lipped critter, she nodded again. “You know what, Mr. Wentworth, you’re right. In fact, don’t even mention my name to him, neither - he might get the wrong idea about me, think I’m all cow eyed about him, instead of just wanting to say a civilized, Christian ‘thank you.’ I mean, imagine what his wife will think if she hears that some silly little nearly-15-goin’-on-16 girl’s been running all over town askin’ after him. Marriages have broken up over less, an’ if there’s children involved, well … I don’t think I could live with myself if anything I did or said broke up their happy little home.” she expounded, looking a little misty-eyes over the imagined scene of domestic distress. She managed to shove the skillet handle under her arm and hold out her right hand, knowing that in all politeness, he could scarcely leave her hanging. “But may I please say a very sincere ‘thank you’ to you, Mr. Wentworth, for pointing out how powerful embarrassing it would have been for that gentleman, of whom we shall never mention again, if I had imposed my childish, if well meaning, intentions upon, er, him.” Boy, that sounded right fancy and pompous – she just had to imagine she was Clara saying it, and everything sort of magically came out that way. She kept hold of his hand, and continued with her polite Southern Belle act that she had practiced with Melissa Cartlidge during a hundred make-believe play sessions. “If there is anything that I can ever do to repay your kindness and sage advice, please, please do feel free to let me know, at the Stardust Saloon, where I am pleased to hold a position upon the staff.” She did yet another curtsy, just to kind of round the performance off.
  8. Clara put Arabella straight about the vagaries of prognostication and about how far she would go in physically aiding the skinny girl to get dry. But there was still the question of the brimming potty. Arabella’s rather clever idea, she thought, of merely adding to the tepid bath water didn’t seem to go down as well as she expected. "Not in the bathwater. I intend on using the bathwater so Wyatt can have a bath. We usually share the same bath water, many families do," Clara pointed out then added with a hint of disdain, "I will empty out your pot." The Virginian girl decided it was best not to mention that she might have already made a little ‘contribution’ to the bathwater already, but she positively balked at the idea of Clara emptying the china. “Oh no! You can’t do that fer me!” she gasped “I mean, that ain’t rosewater in there, it’s what you might term ‘unpleasantly fragrant in an early mornin’ sort of way!’ You just show me where it goes, and I’ll tote it there: I’m gonna have to start pulling my weight around here!” she declared, secretly hoping that, as her weight was negligible, the tasks might be equally light. As for the fact that Clara and Wyatt shared the same bathwater, she did wonder how the two of them would fit in there together: it’d been a pretty tight fit just for her slight frame but, again, decided to ask about that when Clara might be in a more talkative mood. The girl started drying herself off then but wanted to keep chatting - unfortunately. This time Arabella was curious about Clara's father and what was he like and how should she act around the man. "He does not like people who are too chatty," Clara answered, her assessment not really true but it might prove helpful. If she was being optimistic. Arabella took this to mean that the older girl thought that she was too chatty, and that brought on a crying fit and a babbling apology. Crying fits and babbling apologies came naturally to Miss Mudd, and always seemed to have a salutary effect on their audience. However, the redoubtable Miss Redmond bunted this pitch with ease. Clara sighed, "You did not make me sad, again you were referring to something in the realm of possibility not facts. I have enough other things in my life to be concerned about. And for your information I am not sad right now, merely serious. It is how I am" The crying girl stopped crying and looked at the other with a mixture of curiosity and admiration: she was about the funniest little body the southern girl had ever met, but she had an awesome sort of dignity about her that could not fail to impress. "On the other hand, your Aunt Rosie has a good point, you might wish to heed it more often," Clara decided to use the ammunition provided. Arabella, ever wiling to trim her sails to suit the direction of the breeze, wiped the snot from her nose with the back of her wrist and pulled as serious a face as she could muster, and nodded. “Miss Redmond, you are right. I too should emulate you, and try to keep my emotions in check and act with more dignity and restraint.” To her amazement, trying to act more like Clara actually improved her grammar! Then again, she always had been a good mimic, a trait that had landed her in trouble enough in times past. An idea struck her “Say, Clara, when I meet your Pappy, maybe I should try and act all serious and miserable like you, he might like that. Or do you think I should be more charmin’ and divertin’, like I usually am? Hmmm. Oh!!! And what in the Dickens am I gonna wear? Do you still have my clothes? Why, after all them months on the wagon train, and all my a’ventures afterwards, they was just as dirty and full o’ grey-backs as you can’t imagine!”
  9. Matt frowned. The only people he knew that were from Washington was him and his brothers and the only one who had browny, greeny, grayish eyes was Mike, which made sense since he and Sam were the only ones to be involved in the rescue at Whitefish. He had stayed to help with the relief effort in Kalispell, while Charlie was at Lost Lake helping take care of the women and children who lived there. As his remember her remark about how he must be a Southern gentleman, made him smile a little. The girl seemed to be in too good of mood to burst her bubble by telling her that Mike fought for the north and had been mostly living in Wyoming since then. Looking down at the girl, he smiled again, "No, you don't talk too much but and if you haven't already want to make any man remember you, then as Robert Browning said in one of his poems, less is more." "Now as to who I am, my name is Matthew Wentworth and as I said I own the St. Belle. I have an idea who your gallant rescuer is but the question is, would he like me to tell you. For all I know, he may want to remain your mysterious benefactor." @Javia
  10. Emeline jumped as the bell above the door tinkled, announcing that someone had arrived, but when she saw Barnabas, she finally started breathing again. All the time he'd been away, she'd been telling herself that it would be all right, and she had been realizing that he was a part of her life now, and if something happened to him it would be different...in a bad way. Fortunately, there were no customers at the moment, so she smiled and nodded to the table. "I'll get us some coffee and you can tell me all about it." @Flip
  11. "Who said anything about paying you?" Emeline gave him a playful nudge then set about beating the eggs. "What with you eating me out of house and home...or cafe, just a better way to earn your keep!" She was kidding, of course, he did far more than she asked, and didn't take advantage of her offers of food, and anything he did have was more than paid back with his help and presence. "When they're done, you can pile them on a plate, then sit them on the stove and cover them with a cloth...that will keep them warm." Cooking for a few was one thing, but on this scale was quite different, and it had taken her time to learn some tricks. "What else can you make?" she asked, grinning, "so I know what to recruit you for...like I said, less work for me if I can put you and Clara to more work!" She laughed, then refilled his coffee and took a sip of her own. @Flip
  12. "What about your family. They don't need you around or what?" Stopping mid-bite, Weedy looked at the man, then to Addy...he had touched a sore spot. "Mama needs me when she's home," he explained, a hint of pride and a hint of sadness in his tone. He loved his mama, but she was usually really drunk and sometimes mean, and more often than not she stayed the night somewhere...in fact, she'd been gone over a week this time. "Weedy's pa disappeared when he was just a little guy," Addy put in so the boy didn't have to explain. "Speculation is that he run afoul'a Indians." Or, more likely, packed up and left, never looking back. No one really knew. Then he nodded at Addy before he have the kitten a tiny bit of dried meat. "That little thing probably drinks milk. But her ma wasn't around in the barn. I stayed there for a while. No other cat." "Cow's milk ain't good fer cats," Addy explained, "I know where we can get some goat's milk come mornin'." She grinned as Buster jumped up onto the bed and started sniffing the kitten, then, after he had checked it out, he started licking it. "Looks like they've made friends!" Grinning, she dropped a piece of the dried meat into hot water and after a moment she pulled it out and mushed it between her fingers then handed that to Jay. "Try that. Buster's gonna mooch, but don't let him have it all." Likely, the kitten was so hungry it would eat readily. @Jack
  13. Last week
  14. Leah turned to see Pike just inside the doorway of the modest shanty where she was staying. He stood, hat in hand, buffalo coat open, the stained apron hanging about his neck, looking absolutely nothing like the gunfighter he was purported to be. Not like the man she had seen on the street, or in Whitefish. He was the dishwasher at the Lickskillet, and hardly looked as dangerous as Santee and Banister made him out to be. But she trusted their assessment of the man, regardless of the way he looked at that moment. “Mister Pike, I have a proposition for you. It will be legal, well, as legal as possible, there are some details that need to be worked out yet before we can make a full determination on the matter.” She began. “Please, have a seat, I have some coffee if you’d like.” “No Ma’am, I’m fine.” He replied It was like she didn’t quite know how to approach him, yet she did, just be straight with him, Santee had said. “I am aware that Marshal Guyer has hired you as his Deputy come the spring, this should not interfere with that position. I’ll not waste your time as I am sure you are quite important to Emeline Blakesley at the diner. I need men that can enforce some projects I Have.” ‘Oh, here we go.’ Pike thought to himself. “Doctor Danforth and I are about to begin plans for, and the construction of a hospital, and, in the future, an orphanage. I’ll need men to protect that from my fathers riders, since it’s being built with his money. Secondly, I have purchased the land, also with his money, that will be chosen for the railroad, and the right of way will be immensely valuable to whoever holds it. That will be for the town of Kalispell, Montana.” She eyed him carefully, wondering if his situation with Missus Blakesley might dissuade him from considering her offer. “You would be working with Misters Banister and Santee, and, I’ll be talking with Marshal Guyer as I have with you today.” He sat there looking at her for an extremely long moment. “A hospital, you say? Followed by an orphanage and the railroad?” He asked in succession. “Yes Mister Pike. As I said, I have these projects.” “You’n Doc Danforth?” “At the moment yes, there will be others.” He got to his feet, “reckon I’ll need time ta think on it.” “Certainly Mister Pike, there’s no rush, as I said, I’ll be talking to Marshal Guyer.” Setting his hat on his head he said, “Ma’am.,” in parting and walked out the door. He made his way up the street around the corner and into the diner. "You prolly ain't gonna believe this." Tag @Bongo
  15. "You did all right making pies," she commented, "so it's about time you learn to make flap-jacks. The batter is mixed up here," she indicated a large bowl, "and the griddle is hot. Pour in some of the batter," she demonstrated, making six pancakes of uniform size, "once they start to bubble all over, you flip them." “Done a passel o’ flapjacks in my time, I have. Purdy common fare.” He said as he watched over the pancakes. “Now doin’ well with the pies, that’s a good thing. Ain’t no cookie on the any spread about to let anybody near his pie makein’ Her smile widened. "Between you and Clara, I'm planning to manipulate you two into doing all the work for me here!" She laughed. “Zat so? Meanin’ I’ll be moved from free dish wrangler to paid pie maker? That whot yer sayin?” His grin broadened. “How you ever gonna make a profit like thet?”
  16. "Thank you." Jay said before he sat down and let the information sink in. A small place like this with a piece of land would be his dream. "I inherited a piece of land but it's not worth a dime. Too dry, no water supply, not chance of farming it. Why my great uncle bought it, I don't know. I guess he was fooled." This story was actually the sad truth. It had driven Jay to crime. If he owned land, that could come to an end though. "How much do you pay for a small farm around here?" He gave the girl a quick look while she was working around the kitchen and wondered what had happened to their mother. Then he looked out of the window where the snow was still blowing. "Mind if I ask how you earn your dollars?"
  17. "I myself do not dwell on all the possibles and maybes in life. It is best to concentrate on the here and now and how you might positively affect the future," Clara sagely pointed out. Actually that last part she read somewhere but it did make sense. Sure enough Arabella was now freezing and chattering so much she SAID she was incapable of drying herself, it figured. She wrapped the towel about her emaciated frame. "You are not helpless, child. Especially since you seem to be old enough to have love affairs and like," Clare was not going to turn into a maid servant for this girl. “Clara! I forgot. I went pee-pee in the potty. Where should I empty it?” she looked round and met Clara’s brown eyes with her own blue, and then slowly turned her eyes to the water in the bath and then returned them to Clara’s, giving her a cheeky grin. "Not in the bathwater. I intend on using the bathwater so Wyatt can have a bath. We usually share the same bath water, many families do," Clara pointed out then added with a hint of disdain, "I will empty out your pot." The girl started drying herself off then but wanted to keep chatting - unfortunately. This time Arabella was curious about Clara's father and what was he like and how should she act around the man. "He does not like people who are too chatty," Clara answered, her assessment not really true but it might prove helpful. If she was being optimistic. “Clara” she whimpered, looking up at the slightly taller girl, her lips trembling and her blue eyes starting to well. “I’m sorry what I said before about hoping that feller’s wife had died, cause that’s like what happened to your Pappy. That might have made you sad, and you seem plenty sad already. My Aunt Rosie says I need to think more before I speak, but them words they just sort of bubble up inside me and sorta spurt out before I can stop ‘em, she says I, … I ‘wear my heart on my sleeve’. So, I’m sorry if I … made you sad.” Clara sighed, "You did not make me sad, again you were referring to something in the realm of possibility not facts. I have enough other things in my life to be concerned about. And for your information I am not sad right now, merely serious. It is how I am" "On the the other hand, your Aunt Rosie has a good point, you might wish to heed it more often," Clara decided to use the ammunition provided.
  18. "Hello, Mr. Ryker," Clara nodded, still studying him. "I offered your father my help with the horseshoes." "Oh, you did?" Clara glanced at her father hoping for some detail on that. "I bought two horseshoes and Mr. Ryker is a blacksmith so he offered to shoe the horse, free of charge. A kindly offer," Aurelian smiled. "Yes yes it is," Clara immediately was suspicious, she was not the most trusting soul. And sure enough... "So I made him a deal. He shoes the horse, we feed him a hot supper, only fair," Aurelian explained. "If you say so, Father," Clara sighed, more work for her and more food out of their stock. But it was so like her father and she did not fault him for it. "How long have you been living here?" Clara so wanted to answer the man that it was none of his business but her father was too quick. "Going on a year. We got a good deal on the place as the couple who had it before us had decided frontier life was not for them and were heading back East. They just wanted to get rid of it," Aurelian answered. "I felt bad for 'em. They were overwhelmed with the task at hand," he added. "I thought them lazy," Clara chimed in then moved past the man to begin working on tonight's meal with guest. Their guest asked if he could sit and naturally Aurelian consented, "Of course. Relax, we can have a nice talk." Aurelian pulled up another chair then and sat too.
  19. Tipping his hat, he smiled, "Well, how do you do, Miss Mudd.” Arabella returned this with another curtsey. “Very well indeed, thank you, Mr… oh Sir! You have the advantage of me! I don’t know your name.” she smiled innocently. "Your rescuer certainly sounds like a man of mystery. I owned the St. Belle and know most people in town, so if you could tell me his name, I might be able to give you directions on how to find him." “Oh, if only I knew it!” she shook her head sadly. She was trying her best not to appear overly keen to find The Man, after some of the Advice that Clara Redmond had given her. She might, indeed, be the biggest expert in affairs of the heart in Virginia, but she was always willing to take on new ideas on the subject. “He looked very much like you, Sir, if you’ll pardon my observin’ it. Both of you is tall and handsome with hair the color of midnite…” she dug her nails into the palm of her free hand. She had to calm that sort of talk down and sound a little more matter-of-fact and business like. “Now, your eyes are a bonny blue, but his were, ooooh, browny-greeny-gray-iy. His face was a little narrower, but his accent was similar to yours. Why, he said he was from Washington! I remember that now. And I said that there place was in Maryland, and how he must be a Southern gentleman and he looked at me real curious – kinda like you’re looking at me right now.” She gabbled on. “Sir, do I talk too much?” she pouted.
  20. Gallant rescuer? Matt turned to face the girl. Looking at her, he figured that she was no more than about 13-14 years old and seemed to be in very high spirits. Then she said something about being squashed, dead folks and Whitefish which made him realise that she was probably one of the survivors from the disaster that happened a few weeks ago. Tipping his hat, he smiled, "Well, how do you do, Miss Mudd. Not wanting to hurt her feelings by mentioning that he didn't know who she was and if he had read anything that was printed in the newspaper about her, he had long forgotten it, he decide to concentrate on what else she had said. The young lady probably was indebted to her gallant rescuer, whoever he was and probably wanted to thank him, so the least he could do was help her out a little. "Your rescuer certainly sounds like a man of mystery. I own the St. Belle and know most people in town, so if you could tell me his name, I might be able to give you directions on how to find him."
  21. Emeline laughed. "I've no doubt she is a handful, but you seem to be doing well with her, and she is very smart, no doubt her love of reading will help her enhance her education." Even fiction had bits of history, or at very least accounts of how life used to be. "And yes, Addy insists that Weedy go to school. She wants him to have the education she didn't." Emeline grinned. "That woman might be a bit crude, but she's surprisingly astute. So yes, it's a good chance that Wyatt knows Weedy. I'm very glad that the boy is looked after. I've heard rumors of a children's home here, nothing specific, but a good thing, although I hate to think that there is a need." If she could, she would take in every stray that she became aware of, but of course that wasn't possible. @Wayfarer
  22. "Right." Jay heard her words and could only think one thing: He was one of them. He was one of those bad guys now that she should be bracing herself for. It hadn't always been that way. But he had taken a wrong turn and made many poor choices. "Good cake." He tried to get the talk away from this touchy subject. The pie was sweet and delicious. A real treat. He could see the joy in Weedys eyes. "What about your family. They don't need you around or what?" Even if his family was not the best they still were in charge of him. Jay reached for the bread and shifted a little. He was still sitting on the bed assuming it was Weedys. Then he nodded at Addy before he have the kitten a tiny bit of dried meat. "That little thing probably drinks milk. But her ma wasn't around in the barn. I stayed there for a while. No other cat."
  23. "Go ahead. Eat the pie, kid. Just save me a small bite to try." Weedy looked eagerly to Addy who just grinned and nodded, watching as the boy carefully split the pie into three almost-equal portions, then started gobbling up the treat. No harm sometimes in indulging, and Addy grabbed a plate to join him. The food was food, but the pie was heaven! "I have to say this again. Thank you kindly, mam. I'm not taking your generosity for granted." "Just th' Christian thing ta do." Addy shrugged, looking at him with a smile. "See a body needs help, ya help." It was the way she was raised, and the way she lived, not to say she wouldn't lay a man out if he deserved it! "You're letting a stranger come to your place. That's not very safe. But don't worry. I'll do you no harm." "Not much ta be done if ya don't want ta reject them that need help fer th' few who are evil." She shrugged, glancing at Weedy, knowing this was another opportunity to impart Addy-wisdom without being obvious. "Gotta brace for th' few bad ones, but can't turn away them that's in need. Don't think I could live that way." She'd surely seen her amount of evil in her time, so she wasn't ignorant of reality, she just wasn't going to let it taint her way. @Jack
  24. "Tragic," Clara fairly dripped with sarcasm, "Not the you dying part but if he has a woman in his life. By that age they usually do. Trust me." “Hmmmmm” Arabella had a think about this. “Ooh! Maybe his wife died, though. Sure, folks die all the time. He married this lady, oooh, a long time ago, and she died and he was sad for a while, and said he’d never forget her, and now he needs a bright new candle to enter his darkened room of mourning and give him hope for the future again.” Suddenly realizing that this description could perhaps be applied to Clara’s Father, whom she had yet to meet, she coughed and rapidly changed the subject. “Kin I get out now? This here baths gettin’ cold.” "Most certainly, you have been in there long enough and spilled enough of it to wet my entire bedroom floor. Stand up then, let me get a towel," Clara informed her. “Oh! I’m sorry!” chanted Arabella formulaically as she got out of the bath and added to the puddles on the floor. She shivered and allowed her teeth to chatter and made a sort of juh-juh-juh-juh noise with her mouth to exaggerate the effect. She liked that feeling. "Here, I trust you can dry yourself off?" She almost added 'without drama' but that would setting expectations way too high! “Oh, I … I’m real cold, might be best if you rub me some!” she shivered, quickly wrapping the towel around her. Her foot touched something under the bed, and she remembered. “Clara! I forgot. I went pee-pee in the potty. Where should I empty it?” she looked round and met Clara’s brown eyes with her own blue, and then slowly turned her eyes to the water in the bath and then returned them to Clara’s, giving her a cheeky grin. Well, it’d save an extra journey. As she got dry, the stranger under the Redmond roof started to wonder what lay beyond this small room where she had been coaxed from death’s gaping maw, and back into the land of the snug, logwall-bound living. What was the rest of the house like? And the Farm? And the area beyond? And what of the rest of the family? Would she meet some more folks soon? “Clara, what’s your Pappy like? I mean, when I meet him, how should I act? Would he like it best if I was all sad and upset about what’s happened to me, or would he like it best if I was all brave and kinda sad inside but pretending to be all right on the outside; or how about angry that I was in that dead people place or, ooh, I know, how about vivacious? I’m right good at vivacious.” She was like a spinning top, one minute she was up and whizzing round at a hundred miles and hour, the next she collapsed and toppled. Like now, she suddenly teared up, and her head bowed. “Clara” she whimpered, looking up at the slightly taller girl, her lips trembling and her blue eyes starting to well. “I’m sorry what I said before about hoping that feller’s wife had died, cause that’s like what happened to your Pappy. That might have made you sad, and you seem plenty sad already. My Aunt Rosie says I need to think more before I speak, but them words they just sort of bubble up inside me and sorta spurt out before I can stop ‘em, she says I, … I ‘wear my heart on my sleeve’. So, I’m sorry if I … made you sad.” She finished, blinking away the tears and looking about the room confusedly, like she was just looking at it for the first time.
  25. From inside the bunkhouse, Brendan probably heard a few gripes and cursewords from a few of the hands who might have awakened from the door slamming like that. But most slept right thu it, when you work as hard as a typical cowhand you get tired and it takes a lot to disturb one's sleep. The newcomer was wrong though in his assumption everyone had been asleep. As Connelly sat there pondering, the cowhands' outhouse door creaked open and out came one of the cowpokes. Billy was buttoning his trousers, the lone item of clothing he had on, he was also barefoot. But then it was August and certainly wasn't about to sleep in the long underwear he wore during colder times. He had gotten up a bit earlier than Brendan but had been more quiet about it. He had learned not to irritate some of the hands, a wise habit considering his youth compared to the other men. Billy was eighteen but didn't even look that, he still hadn't even needed to shave thus far. Which didn't bother him none, seemed like a mess of effort. And Billy had always been a bit on the lazy side. As he then padded back toward the bunkhouse, he couldn't help but notice the jasper sitting there on the front steps. The newest hand....he had heard the foreman mention the guy's name but in all honesty forgot what it was. Nonplussed though, for Billy was - especially for Evergreen cowhands - a good natured friendly sort, he lifted one hand in a 'hi' gesture. "Mornin', gonna be another scorcher I reckon, still beats to hell a Montana winter don't it?" he grinned. (ooc: Ignore the blood trickle, best pic I could find that fit. He's in fine health
  26. The girl, who emerged from a the back of the home was probably no older than twelve years of age but her expression was that of the lady of the house. She wasn't you typical girl, Jay could tell right away. There was no shyness in her look nor was there any fear of this strangers. Jays first assumption was that their mother had long been missing and the girl had taken on that role. "Good afternoon, Clara." Jay briefly said and then turned his attention back on her father. "I offered your father my help with the horseshoes." "How long have you been living here?" It sounded like it hadn't been very long and that they didn't really have a lot either. For some reason his criminal mind also calculated that stealing from them would not be worth the trouble. Jay quickly silenced that thought. It was a habit he had picked up over the past two years with the gang. Now he needed to think like a normal person again. It would be wrong to steal from such poor folks. He looked at the chairs around the table. "May I sit?"
  27. Clara was in her room, sewing... well patching up one of her brother's pants where there had a hole at the knee. Wyatt was so hard on clothing, a combination of his endless activity and annoying clumsiness. New trousers ,or any clothing for that matter, were an unwanted expense so it was up to her to extend the life of their wardrobe. She heard the front door open of course, her father and brother were expected home so that was her assumption. "Nice place, you have here, sir. Quaint and solid....that barn outside needs some fixing though. Heavy snowfall?" A man's voice and totally unfamiliar too? She stood up regretting instantly she had no firearm in the room. Then she heard her father's voice though and relaxed. "We think so, but yes, the people who had this farm before us had done a poor job on the roof and we got that confirmed when part of it fell in from too much snow. At least the whole roof didn't crash in on top of our stock. Besides the two horses, we got us a milk cow in the barn," Aurelian explained. Clara now emerged from her room to take a gander at this newcomer. No, she did not recognize the man at all. Not likely a local in her mind. And what was he here for? "Father," she greeted them. Aurelian grinned, "Daughter of mine." He turned to Jay, "Mr. Ryker, this is my daughter, Clara. And Clara, this here is Mr. Jay Ryker." "Good day, sir," Clara nodded without a hint of a smile but eyed him with a measure of suspicion.
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About Sagas

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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Founders: Stormwolfe & Longshot

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