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Longshot

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About Longshot

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  1. Location: Trail from Kalispell to Fort Poison, south end of Flathead Lake. When: Early September 1875 Time of Day: Evening Harriet felt as if she had been in the saddle for three days instead of just several hours. She was used to driving and managing a high-strung team of horses, not sitting on one for hours at a time. She guessed she was going to have to toughen up and get used to it. After all, Montana was the life she was choosing. She sat down a bit gingerly on the blanket she had spread earlier for dinner. The man driving the supply wagon agreed to do the after-dinner cleanup, but refused to cook. Surprisingly, she and Quentin had managed a good meal between the two of them. More surprising yet, no one had died. She leaned forward and grabbed the spare coffee pot that she had brought along for heating water to wash with and brew tea. She ladled tea leaves into two tea-balls, dropped them into cups, and poured hot water over them. Without asking, she handed one over to Quentin. "I don't see how Reggie did this. More than that, I don't see how she could love driving cattle!" Harriet glanced toward where the sounds of restless cows could be heard. "Stupid beasts!" "Now, Harriet..." Quentin said as he took the cup of tea and sipped. "...We have spent most of the day chasing them around and wearing ourselves out...I'm not sure which is the stupid beast." Quentin shifted on his blanket as his leg muscles muttered in protest but he was not about to let on that he was sore as well. He had spent straight days in the saddle back in the war but admittedly straight riding with the occasional battle was not nearly as exhausting as herding cattle. "I think Shade let that bear knock him about on purpose," Harriet stated emphatically. "He had best still be hobbling about when we get back." "If he is walking around normally when we get back, you have my permission to return him to limping status." Quentin settled back more and rested his hat farther forward so it shaded his eyes as he settled back against the side of his saddle on the ground. She carefully leaned back against the fallen log. "I wonder how far we got today? Do you think we will get to Poison tomorrow?" The younger of the two hands had a sudden coughing fit while the wagon's driver, a much older gentleman's mustache twitched with amusement, "Ma'am, at this rate, we'll be lucky to get there within the week." Quentin looked thoughtful then nodded. "That sounds about right, barring outside interference, although we might be a little slower each day if we feel like this at the end of each one..." Tags @Stormwolfe
  2. "HARRIET!" Quentin's voice roared through the house. The two of them could hear footsteps coming down the stairs to the first floor. "HARRIET!" His voice actually gained some volume on the second roar. They heard the steps coming down the hallway and suddenly Quentin walked past the doorway, his mouth opening again. "HARR-..." He stopped past the doorway and then stepped back, planting himself in the frame and looking at her. "Oh, there you are..." Quentin glanced over and nodded at Shade. "Morning..." His head then tracked back to Harriet. "What in the hell is this...?" Quentin held up a half crumpled piece of paper. "...This was on my door this morning...I am most certainly not going to go on a cattle drive or have you taken leave of your senses?" Harriet had immediately bristled when she heard Quentin bellowing her name. She sat up in the chair and sensed more than saw Shade slump back in his although he acknowledged Quentin's greeting with a wave of his hand. Harriet's eyes flashed pure fire and she loaded as much sarcasm into her tone as she was capable of. Since her ability to be scathing was legendary, this was a prodigious amount of sarcasm. "Then who do you suggest to lead the drive?" Harriet's tone was as condescending as she could manage. "Unless, of course, you are recommending that Mr. Thornton make the trek to Fort Poison and back?" "What are you talking about? Of course Shade can't go on a cattle drive, but we have a ranch full of hands to do just this sort of thing. Why can't any of them run it?" Some of the steam had gone out of Quentin's charge as he realized that something might be wrong that needed to be fixed. Quentin glanced over at Shade. "Why are we taking cattle to Fort Poison?" Shade tapped the sheaf of papers that Harriet had tossed onto the desk, "Because Chance has a contract to supply them twenty-five head every month from April through October. Ezra handled July and August." Harriet glared at Quentin, "And the contract calls for a senior ranch representative to bring the herd to the fort. Foreman or higher in rank. Since neither Ezra nor Shade can go, you are the only one left that can represent the owners, Cody and Nettie...unless you are suggesting they make the drive?" Quentin's eyes narrowed and he spared a look at Harriet. "I am aware who the senior ranch representatives are, Counselor..." He then looked over at Shade. "Twenty-Five head doesn't sound too bad. Who else can I take with me?" "Nick Hale and Reuben Smith," Shade answered. "And, Harriet Mercer." He leaned further back in his desk chair, carefully adjusting his injured leg, and waited for the explosion. Quentin started to nod then his head came up. "HER? Absolutely Not!..." "That sounds ... Wait! WHAT?!" Harriet's tone was strident. Shade grinned, "Sounds like a plan. I'll let the men know. Four of you should be able to handle a herd of twenty-five head." Continued in Cattle Drive [Part 2]
  3. Longshot

    The Hunt

    Quentin slowed until he could see Shade half laying down near some rocks and brush. He slung his rifle across his back while he covered the remaining distance and dropped down beside Shade, helping him lay back down and stop trying to get up. He heard running and glanced up as Aurelian arrived next to him. Quentin looked back at Shade as he ran his hands along the other man's clothes. There were bloodstains all over but there did not seem to be any marks on his torso. Quentin kept moving down and checking but his hand stopped above one thigh as he felt the heat from the blood. He saw the slow but steady oozing around the fabric. He moved on down but could find no other damage. "Looks like the bear got his leg pretty good. He's not walking out of here. You best go grab some of the mounts and the others and get back here. Bring the medical supplies!" @Players open for any to arrive or also respond
  4. Longshot

    The Hunt

    Quentin sat on one knee up the hillside, still several dozen yards short of the bear. He had realized he was never going to catch the running avalanche, so he had slid to a stop and knelt. He had snugged the trapdoor to his shoulder and fired, seeing a puff of red erupt from the body. He popped the breech, thumbed in another round, cocked the hammer and fired, not seeing an impact because of the haze of smoke around him. Quentin popped the breech and thumbed another round home. He pulled the hammer back to full cock as he realized that suddenly things were quiet. His ears rang from the punishing bangs of the rifle as he peered through the smoke. Quentin rested his thumb on the hammer and pulled the trigger, easing the hammer down to rest on the breech. The white haze cleared slowly and he saw the mass of bear laying still. He could see a few people around it, but he was unsure who at this distance. One of them turned and waved their rifle over their head. Quentin exhaled and waved his empty hand toward them. The smile that started to spread across his face fell off like broken glass as he saw Shade's horse standing far on the other side of the dead bear and their own spare mounts. "SHADE!" Quentin roared, turning and running back along the trail toward where their column had been when the monster had attacked. @Players
  5. Longshot

    The Hunt

    Quentin swore as he reined Paladin uphill out of the milling mass of horses and people. He had relaxed a bit, drifting back in the column as the pace of the ride had lulled him a bit after so many hours of no activity. The sudden outburst up front had to be that monster attacking the front of their group. He turned Paladin and moved parallel to the trail as he brought the Trapdoor Springfield up, using his boots in the stirrups to bring the horse to a halt. He could feel the horse's nervousness and honestly, he didn't blame him one bit. Quentin's eyes narrowed as he spotted the fast moving bulk racing back along the trail toward the mobile remuda further back. He swung the rifle as his thumb dragged the hammer to full cock. He led the dark brown bulk as best he could and fired. The Springfield belched a cloud of white smoke and he saw a puff of red mist erupt from the bear's side behind its left foreleg. Quentin knew his uphill position meant the round had not hit anything vital as it penetrated. His hands flipped the trapdoor breech up and the empty round spun out with a metallic ping. Quentin fished out a fresh round and thumbed it in as he kicked his leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground. He began running along the hillside, glimpsing the large rear of the grizzly as it bounded ahead of him. @Players
  6. Longshot

    The Hunt

    Quentin rode at the front. He nodded at Shade and turned to the next one in line. "Shade says we should rest the horses...pass it on." He eased his mount over to the side and looped his reins over a thick tree branch. He then walked toward Shade with his Trapdoor cradled in his arm so the barrel was pointed safe. He had a round in the chamber and the hammer down but ready to fire at a moment's notice. He had replaced his usual hideaway pistol with an Arkansas Toothpick he had had for years. The Trapdoor's bayonet hung beside it for ease of draw. Quentin's Schofield was still on his hip just because he felt naked without it. The Trapdoor pistol sat in a holster slung around his saddle horn. Quentin walked up to stand behind Shade and to one side. "How long since it came by here?" He said quietly. Quentin knew it was foolish to speak low with a party this size and all these mounts, but his superstitious side still won out. Quentin wasn't one to tempt fate if he could help it. @Players
  7. Longshot

    The Hunt

    Quentin yawned as he reined up outside the bunkhouse. He looped the reins around the post and stepped inside. He looked around and saw Shade and motioned to him. Shade added more coffee to his cup and walked over to Quentin, "What's up?" Quentin stood beside a buckboard as Shade walked up. "Several days ago, I took a trip to the fort. I figured we might need any advantage we can get..." He reached and flipped off a tarp and pushed the lid off the long crate under it. He reached in and lifted out a rifle. "The Commanding Officer was kind enough to allow me to buy a case of these Trapdoor rifles. There are four plus he let me buy a case of cartridges." Quentin reached under his coat and pulled a round from his bandolier and held it up. "It's .45-70. Not as powerful as some of the weapons we have for the hunt, but the Trapdoor can fire faster than some of those. It may come down to more rounds into that bear as opposed to one big one." Shade uttered a low whistle. He leaned down and hefted one of the rifles, giving it an admiring look while he tested it for balance. He was impressed with the feel of the gun and with Quentin's effort in getting them. There was no doubt that they had probably cost a pretty penny, but in the end they were good additions to the ranch's arsenal. Shade had to admit, he wanted to be the fly on the wall when Quentin handed the receipts in to Harriet for payment. He almost grinned. Quentin reached into the crate and tugged out a length of three sided steel. He held the spike bayonet near the end of the Trapdoor's barrel. "And if it's too close for comfort, you can always use this thing like a spear to protect yourself." "Having seen that ornery critter, I plan on not getting that close," Shade said although the precaution made sense. Quentin then made a sound and reached for a small bag beside the crate. "I got these made at the Gunsmith..." Quentin tugged out what looked like an oversized dueling pistol. "This is a Trapdoor conversion of an old style pistol. The system is the same and it uses the same ammunition. You lose some velocity with the shorter barrel, but it kicks harder than our revolvers ever could." Quentin handed the pistol toward Shade. "I want you to take this. You don't have to take the rifle if you want, but take the pistol..." Quentin glanced around then back to Shade. "This bear is something unusual. People might die today before it's dead, and I don't want it to be you or me...okay?" "I don't want it to be any of us," Shade replied solemnly as he took the pistol. He lowered his voice, "Thanks for going the extra mile for us, Quentin. I will take one of the trapdoors. Need to make sure Addy has one of the Sharps or one of these." He paused and thought for a second, "Since she has the pack string, she might need one of the pistols?" Quentin nodded. "She's welcome to one if she wants it. Might be easier to manage with the job she has."
  8. I would be okay for Scott to run for mayor, it could also be a good way to have the Steelgraves try something against him for revenge. They might not want to kill a serving Marshal, but a civilian just running for mayor might be a tempting target for them after all the years of him probably thwarting their plans and being a big obstacle.
  9. Heck, they could have an actual Steelgrave running for the office. I doubt they would even care if people knew they were trying to legally take over the town. No need for too much subterfuge.
  10. What if the Steelgraves try to hijack the election so they can put one of their paid puppets in charge of a lot of what happens in town?
  11. Quentin watched Jonah and Harriet walk into the dining room arm and arm and refrained from rolling his eyes with great effort. He leaned over and dug into the food in front of him, maybe using his silverware a bit more than necessary as he attacked his food. Quentin told himself it was partly from hunger, but he also did not follow that train of thought too closely because he was damned if he could think of any other reason to be angry at what that woman did. He did straighten up and listen when Harriet asked about Ezra. For everything else he might be feeling at the moment, he did appreciate the effort the doctor had put into saving Ezra's life. Tag @Stormwolfe or @Bongo
  12. Quentin lost track of the time he spent helping take care of Ezra. It was just like after any of the fights his regiment had been in during the war. Everything after was just a blur of work and sleep and being exhausted until all the men had been cared for. Quentin came back from the kitchen, feet shuffling from his tiredness. He had removed his shirt after working on Ezra, the bloody garment ending up with all the other clothing and bedclothes to be cleaned or burned as the case might be for saving the items. He had a few small spots on his undershirt but comparatively it was very clean. Quentin glanced into the bedroom and saw several people hovering around. Quentin figured another person crowding the room was not needed. He wandered along the hall and turned into the study. He walked over and dropped into what was one of his favorite overstuffed chairs for reading. "I'll just relax for a few minutes and then I will check around the ranch to make sure everything is..." Quentin's thoughts trailed off as he was asleep within a minute of settling into the chair.
  13. Quentin leaned against a fence rail and watched as some hands were working on breaking some new horses that had been found on the ranch property. One thing they had decided on very quickly was to try and help any mustangs on the ranch. Ones young and healthy enough to become working horses would be made to do so, and any others would be kept and fed to prevent their grazing on the cattle grass or eating any feed put out for the cattle. He winced as one of the hands went flying as the horse he had been on bucked incredibly well. The man got to his feet, beating his hat on his chaps and raising as much dust as he caused when he hit the ground a minute ago. Over the laughter of the other hands Quentin caught a faint sound. It was a growing constant sound...a rattling jingle amidst multiple sets of hooves. The sound grew quickly and did not fall off in tempo or intensity. He turned and his face dropped into a frown. Whoever was riding their wagon team that hard was about to get a few words from Quentin. He understood that sometimes horses had to be used, and used hard when the situation demanded it...no cavalryman was immune to reality. However, any other time you treated horses very carefully if you expected them to perform like that when it was needed. Quentin moved around and leaped up to stand on a rail of the corral to see above some of the other items between himself and the main house. He saw a rider, then a ranch buckboard, speed into view, followed by more riders all galloping as hard as they could. Quentin recognized some of the men who had went out with Ezra earlier. His eyes moved along the riders looking for Ezra, then back from the last rider to the wagon. His eyes narrowed when he did not see Ezra among the mounted men. The wagon and the riders began to draw up in front of the main house. Quentin was already moving in that direction when he registered the demeanor and worry in the way they huddled around the wagon. Suddenly Quentin put together the reason for a wagon being driven like that plus the fact he had not seen Ezra among the riders. Before he realized it he was running full out, other hands trailing behind him as others saw the commotion and began heading for the house. He came to a halt at the wagon and hands moved to each side. Quentin almost hit the side of the wagon as his arms stopped his run. His gaze moved down into the back of the wagon and he recoiled a bit. "Oh, God..." Quentin spit out at the sight of the blood on the blanket. He looked around at the shock and disbelief on the faces of the hands standing around and their sight helped cut through his own stunned reaction. "Come on! Some of you get in, on each side of the blanket!...we need to get Ezra into the house!..." Quentin watched the men get in and carefully move the blanket cradling Ezra off the buckboard and he ran up in front of them to throw open the front double doors. "HELP! Ezra's Hurt!"
  14. Continued from Bear Chase. The normal forest sounds had returned by the time Shade, Clara and the children were out of the waterfall pool. He still paused to listen, but it seemed that the monster Grizzly had gone in search of less elusive prey. Now, he just had to figure out where they were relative to the main house. It only took a few moments for him to get his bearings. "This way," he gestured off to his left. Their headlong race through the forest and away from the bear had brought them out just north of the ranch house. Even with measuring their strides to those of the twins, they should be home within twenty minutes. Within five minutes, Shade had them back on the trail that led east toward the house. They had only gone a few yards when he thought he heard something. "Clara!" Shade called to her and stepped in front of her and the twins. Levering a round into the chamber of the rifle, he turned it in the direction of the sounds. He thought they were footfalls but was not willing to take any chances. Keeping himself between Clara, the twins, and whatever or whoever was coming, Shade waited tensely. From up ahead the trail moved over a rise and vanished from view. Slowly a head rose over the edge of the small hill and started to drop back, then it rose again to reveal Quentin's face behind the barrel of a Sharps carbine. He watched Shade swing the barrel of his rifle away as he walked up into view, placing his hat back on his head as he looked around behind the tired, wet group. "Shade? What the hell happened? I heard shooting..." So it was Shade's friend, Clara relaxed then but only for a moment before stepping out from behind Shade and addressing the other man, blunt as ever despite being a soaking mess. "We were accosted by a bear. And kindly be mindful of your language, there are children present,"Clara gestured with a nod toward the twins. Quentin blinked and looked back at the woman from where he had been watching the surrounding woods. His jaw dropped a bit then it closed almost audibly. "You four were attacked by a bear and you're giving me grief about my language?..." He shifted the Sharps to rest in the crook of his left arm as he looked at Shade. "...No wonder you like her so much. She's a pistol..." @Stormwolfe for Shade and open
  15. Just my two cents, but how about the Old West equivalent of a Jack the Ripper? Maybe a man who rode the train to its end to get away from the last place he hunted, but he can't resist the impulse once he is here. The town is not a bustling metropolis, but there are still a lot of people for that time period and still a decent size transient population. Or, maybe some sort of Mountain Man type who comes into town, kills, then leaves? That way the list of suspects can be the biggest red herring.

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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