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  1. "It's just to your right. Would you like some help?" There! An offer, but Frances' choice. Miss Grimes flicked her stick to the right and struck the package, bending down to retrieve it. "Oh, thank you, Mrs Pike, I have it." she smiled picking up the package and feeling it over for tears. "I hope none of it is peeping out, it is some undergarments and an old dress that needed repairs. I can sew but it's a laborious process for me, and we will be on our way to Kalispell tomorrow." She managed to bundle up everything in one arm, packages, stick, and stuck out the other to somewhere near Emeline again. "Goodbye, I hope to see you in Kalispell when you return" she did not shy away from using the 'S' word "And I shall certainly look up Mrs Connolly at the Diner." @Bongo
  2. He took Frances' hand and gently shook it, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Grimes." "And you, Mr. Simons." she smiled sweetly. "If you are interested in joining the ladies group my aunt Rebecca Wentworth will be running, I can get her to send you an invitation or she can personally come to see you." "Oh, that sounds wonderful, I shall have to see if, er..." stammered the blind girl, and Crabbe could guess why. "And it doesn't cost anything to join, does it, Ben?" Lorenzo put in. "It sounds absolutely wonderful Mr. Simons" said Frances, now much more firmly "Please, just an invitation, I mean, just knowing when and when your Aunt would be holding the meetings would be all I need. I shall find it with no problem. What a kind thought, thank you, Mr. Simons." At the sound of Ben munching, she decided that she had probably outstayed her welcome at his tableside and said "I shall leave you to your repast, Mr Simons, thank you again." @JulieS
  3. "First off, proper grammar, it is 'like a blind person' not people," Clara pointed out , "And secondly we are here in this kitchen to cook proper meals for paying customers. That is a responsibility I take most seriously. Kindly be more....adult." "Ain't it funny, Clara, I'm always makin' mistakes like that when I talk in my regular voice, but when I do 'personations of folk, I can speak right if I needs to. Listen to this:..." the gangly, scruffy teenager suddenly stood up ramrod straight at the frying pan and repositioned the spachelor in her hand like she was holding a dainty quill, then started to speak in a refined, maybe even pretentious voice, very unlike her own, with no trace of a southern accent: "Arabella, would you please desist from precipitating those most distastful and less that utilitarian anecdotal confabulations. I find them most distressing!" All right, the words might not make sense, but anyone who knew Clara would have recognised the rhythm and tone of her voice. @Wayfarer
  4. Javia

    Late Nights

    "There ain't no 'we', Ara, this is between me n' the cowpoke here. You did not knock and I did not say you could come in," Caroline now pointed out as calmly as she could. "I know..." replied Arabella sadly "An' I know I promised to do all them things but..." she shook her head a little "when I heard all them terrible horrible rotten things what happened to you, I was just so shocked and sad and angry that some low down bastard could do that to my sweet, pretty, lovely little Caroline, I just... well my soul kinda flew out to you, and my big ol' feet foller'd right along behind it." She reached across and hugged her again and kissed her on top of her head again. Brendan then put in his two cents' worth. From there, he looked down at Caroline. "Hey. What I was tryin' to say...goin' to say...is that...I understand." "Good ta know, hon. Just wait a minute and we can continue this conversation once Ara leaves the room, shuts the door, and assures me she won't be listening in anymore. Got that?" Caroline eyed the teenager. Arabella nodded compliantly enough, but then twisted in the bed so she was face to face with Brendan, whom she stared straight in the eye. "But before I go, Brendan Connolly, you gotta tell me that you forgive me for all them silly things I said before and all them silly things I did cause even Caroline's forgiven me and she's the one I did and said them things to and we gettin' on all right now and I found out some stuff which made me change and I'm a better person now and it just ain't fair that you're still treatin' me so mean and, and..." she gulped down a sob and a lone tear appeared in the corner of her eye. "... I really want you to be my friend again..." she wiped away the tear "... please." @Bailey @Wayfarer
  5. There was an impressive silence that was finally broken when Priest eased back the hammer of his gun. CA-CLICK. "You should take his advice and listen to the gentleman. It would be a crime if such a pretty piano player got caught-up in any potential gunfire." "Oh! Do you think I'm pretty?!" started Arabella in reply "Just that... YUULLP!" she made the oddest sound as Caroline pulled her out of harm's way. "YOU! Get outta their way!" Caroline yanked at Ara's one upper arm and clamped down on the bony thing then glanced at the newcomer, "Sorry, we'll be right outta yer way. Just hold on a second!" With that she led the girl off back toward the piano and way out of the line of fire, glaring at her as she hissed, "You askin' ta get shot? I have no desire to lose me my piano player, hon!" "Aw, that's so sweet of you to rescue me from rescuin' Mr Grimes!" beamed Arabella, throwing her arms around Caroline. Grimes was now covered front and back by the levelled pistols of Fortner and Priest, he held up his hands in supplication "Hey, come on fellers, now this ain't fair is it? Two against one!" Fortner calmly asked the cowpoke, "I have strange habit." "Hope it ain't a dirty habit!" grinned Grimes nervously. If that was intended to amuse the man pointing a gun at his forehead, it didn't seem to work. "Do you have any habits?" Grimes frowned. What the Hell was this fancily dressed dude with the quick draw and the backup man raving on about? Habits, habits... ? "Er... chew a little?" he hazarded a guess in the form of a question. He somehow didn't think his addiction to chewing tobacco was what the stranger was driving at. @Preston @Wayfarer
  6. "So Simons, I hear there's to not only be a prize fight, but some talk of a stage play? Interesting." Lorenzo let Ben field this question, as it was aimed at him. He himself was always careful what he said to the bloodhound newspaper reporter and editor. Not that McVay ever printed lies: but he had a knack of printing what you did tell him in such a way that did quite give the impression of yourself that you had hoped for. Then, "Mister Crabbe, you involved in all of this? doesn't seem to be in your bailiwick. Well, maybe the fight." "Mr McVay, I'm sponsoring and running the whole shebang. And it's going to be an exciting and educational exhibition of the fine science of pugilism, too. We've got local talent in the form of Kalispell's very own Deputy Marshall, Mr. Charles Wentworth Junior taking on a wild young Irishman called Battling Bob Cullen. And it's a real grudge match, too!" he added on a whim. People were more interested in a fight if the two combatants were known to hate each other, rather than a couple of disinterested sluggers throwing hooks and crosses at each other. He'd have to invent a story as to why the two young men hated each other, probably something involving an argument over a girl, that always went over big with the general public. Phinn stood looking at Crabbe a long moment. "Crabbe, Simmons. You let me know the dates, be in the Union. We do posters and hand bills as well, if printed adverts strikes your fancy for either event." "Will do that, Mr. McVay!" nodded Lorenzo "'It pays to advertise' as they say. Soon as I'm sure of the exact time on the 6th, I'll send one of my people around with the details." 'One of his people!' Crabbe thought that sounded pretty grand. "Of course, there will be free entrance to the gentlemen of the Press who will no doubt wish to report 'pon the proceedings!" he added as a sweetener to a, hopefully, favourable piece on the event. A pretty cheap sweetener, too, as Phin was about the only 'gentleman of the press' in town. @JulieS @Flip
  7. She heard the kind stranger offered her condolences and Frances pulled herself together. She didn't usually cry like that, maybe it was Emeline's very kindness that had sparked her off. "I'm sure you'll do just fine, especially with your brother's help," Emeline tried to reassure her, "and there's a fine church that has an organ that I'm certain they would let you play on Sundays." And pianos in the saloons, but she didn't mention that, as those places weren't appropriate for a lady. "Oh, an organ!" beamed Frances, delighted "Most churches out West just seem to have an out of tune piano or a broken down old harmonium: an organ would be splendid." To be honest, her interest was as much pecuniary as religious or musical; when she and her brother had reached San Francisco after being burnt out of Virginia City, the kind proprietor of a Beer Garden on Jackson Street had allowed her to play a benefit concert on his quite newly installed Schoenstein pipe organ. The proceeds from that had kept the wolf from the door while she found more permanent work that she could do. Frances had found it a little disturbing that the best organ in the city was in a beer garden rather than a church, but pecuniary matters had taken precedence over morals; beggars can't be choosers; and she she had received the money gladly. At that point, Miss Eleanor returned with the packages. "Here you are, dear. Are you going to need help with these?" "Oh, please let me feel them." Frances said, standing up and holding out her free hand to where the proprietress's voice seemed to emanate from. "I can manage those, she nodded." Actually, they were a bit of a handful with her stick as well, but she didn't want to be offered help carrying them where she would then be obliged to give a tip. She immediately dropped one of the light, but awkward shaped packages on the floor and bent to feel down to the ground for it. Luckily, she didn't have tight corsets on. @Bongo
  8. "He was my employee," Emeline chuckled, "when he wasn't working at his job as a deputy. And I've no doubt there is a fine man who will take care of you, although you seem to be pretty self-sufficient, and once you are settled in your own home, you'll do well." After all, once she learned her way around an area that didn't change, it should be fairly easy to find her function. Frances was surprised to hear that the lady's husband was a Sheriff or Marshall's Deputy, an important and responsible, if not always respected, office, but also a menial dish-washer under his wife's thrall. Mrs Pike must really wear the pants in that relationship, she supposed. Frances, to be fair, had rather conservative and conventional views on marriage: an institution that she had taught about, more than actually experienced in practice, due to her upbringing in a special school for the blind. She expressed her hope that the two of them might be friends in the future. Returning the girl's squeeze, Emeline smiled. "I'm the one who is lucky, I think. I had no plan to marry again, but then he came into my life...sometimes these things just happen without you knowing it until you do."[/i] The best kind of love, she supposed, when you were friends and it took time to realize you were more. "Then I must be an incurable romantic, for I hope to be quite swept off my feet by a 'tall dark handsome stranger'" she admitted, a little giddily. Gosh, why was she saying all this to a someone she had only just met? Probably because the kind-sounding lady in the dress shop was the first interested ear she had met with in quite some time. "And I'm certain we'll be great friends, I look forward to it." By the time they were back in Kalispell, Miss Frances and her brother should be well-settled. "Tell me about Virginia City, is it a nice place?" "Oh. Mrs Pike, it is a terrible, sinful place: as are all such mining cities that are founded by those who seek riches above all else, including decent moral Christian conduct. When the whole town burnt down last year, we moved our belongings to the church, hoping that it would be protected above all other buildings: but the evil men in charge of the fire-fighting turned all their attention to saving their precious lucre-belching mine shafts!" Her demeanour suddenly turned from righteous anger to a sort of despairing sag. "All our possessions were destroyed: my clothes, the musical instruments I depended upon to earn our keep, and my precious, irreplaceable embossed books: the only ones I can read. Oh, oh Mrs Pike, my entire life was destroyed that day!" she sighed and the poor little blind girl, her shoulders heaving, dissolved in unstoppable, salty, sightless tears. @Bongo
  9. "Never mind all that, we have another breakfast order, you do the eggs, I will do the bacon," Clara got to work. "Aw!" Arabella pouted, disappointed by the lack of gossip about the alien creature in the dining room. "And for your information..." Arabella gasped with excitement, dashing back to Clara clutching two eggs in her hands. "Yes???" "... her hand felt perfectly normal," the no nonsense young Mrs. Lutz pointed out what should be the obvious. "Hmmm, interesting!" frowned Arabella, fondling the hard smooth surfaces of the egg shells meditatively "I though they'd be sort of clammy, like she'd get the sweats 'cause she was worried about walking face first into a door or wall all the time." "She's sorta pretty, wonder what she looks like under that eye bandage thingamajig?" Arabella wondered out loud. "Say, when you go back out there, see if'n you can peep over the top of it and see what's underneath." "I most certainly will not, that would be extremely rude," scoffed Clara, "Get going on those eggs, you were the one who volunteered to help." Arabella nodded and got the eggs into the fry pan. "Oh dash!" she exclaimed "I done broke one o' the yolks! Oh well, guess she ain't gonna notice!" "Hey, Clara" she shouted over, cooking eggs was starting to bore her, "Let's both close our eyes and see if we can cook breakfast without bein' able to see, like a blind people!" @Wayfarer
  10. "Loudmouth! Stop before I shoot you ----- in the back." "Uh?" grunted Grimes, spinning and seeing the old man, some distance away, levelling a pistol in his direction. Who did he think he was, sticking his nose in? It was Hiram Priest, sitting comfortably at his table, a revolver in his hand aimed straight at the trouble maker. In the confusion caused by the former judge, Frank was able to swiftly and deftly slip a derringer from an inner pocket. Grimes raised his hands in supplication and grinned in a friendly, if strained, grimace. "Heeyyyy fellers, come on, two against one ain't fair. I was only joshin'! Can't you city fellers take a joke?" Ralph now spoke clearly but softly, "Grimes, if the man shoots you, it's no skin off my nose. You got yerself inta this, yer on yer own." The unpleasant loafer was now aided by an unlikely ally: Arabella, looking around to see if anyone was admiring her piano playing, saw what was happening and, sending her piano stool flying, ran over and, overcoming her usual cowardice, threw herself in front of Grimes so that the derringer was pointing straight at her forehead. "Oh! Don't you dare shoot Mr Grimes, you... you..." "Mr Fancy Pants" prompted Fortner's target, carefully shifting his position and crouching down a little so he was better protected by the girl's body. "Yeah, Mr Fancy Pants - don't you know he has a little sister to support and she's blind and everything! And he's her sole means of of support, and she came into the diner one time and I cooked her eggs and bacon and she ate it all up just like a real person. And also he's..." she jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the now virtually invisible Frank Grimes "... he's still recovering from where Top-heavy Tessie stabbed him repeatedly with that letter opener, and no one can understand it because who the dickens would write her a letter and besides I have to clean these floors and have you ever tried to get blood outta plain pine planking? No I bet you ain't!" This soliloquy was was terminated by Frank's voice, muffled by the back of Arabella's smock, sounding "You tell him, Reb!" @Preston @Wayfarer
  11. When Clara finally came back into the kitchen area with the order, Arabella was all over her with questions. "What did she do? What did she say? Why's she talkin' to Mr Simons? What did Lorenz, er, Mr Crabbe say to her?!!" then she gasped out loud with the remembrance of something "Oh! And I saw when she held your hand! Did it feel funny?!!" She peeped around Clara again, biting her lip as she observed the blindfolded girl talking to Ben. "She's sorta pretty, wonder what she looks like under that eye bandage thingamajig?" she wondered out loud. "Say, when you go back out there, see if'n you can peep over the top of it and see what's underneath." she suggested, consumed with a curiosity as potent as her fear. @Wayfarer
  12. Ben smiled, "Don't worry. With my aunt running the group you can be sure that everything will be above board." "Jesus, that sounds boring!" shrugged Crabbe. He took a sip of his coffee before going on, "Now, what I plan is it for to be a theatrical group. That debacle with the tabloid those young ladies tried at that meeting is a prime example why they need some guidance, especially where deportment is concerned. I am sure that your Bridget, will benefit greatly from learning such things from a lady." Lorenzo frowned, then remembered Arabella rabbiting on about some lame Tableaux Vivant that she and Bridge and her pretty minx of a friend, Miriam Kaufmann, had put on, under the auspices of that snooty little Anæsthsia Orr. According to Arabella, it had been the greatest thing of its kind ever unveiled to the General Public: although when she mentioned that her knock-kneed legs had been on show, he immediately downgraded the spectacle in his mind. According to Ben, he had been right to. Another grin appeared on his face, "Besides, I think that you'll agree that if Miss Bridget is seen as a respectable and accomplished young lady, you will be able to find her a suitable husband more easily." Crabbe nodded. "Well, I might have a sucker lined up there, but Hell, yeah, why not? Long as it don't cost me nothing." Both men shut up then, each hoping to avoid detection, as Frank Grimes' sister came noisily in, clacking that damn stick all about. Stepping into the dining room once more Clara spotted what was obviously the blind girl alright although wearing a blindfold instead of dark glasses. Well, it wasn't like Clara had any experience with blind people anyhow. But she was certainly not terrified of one, instead more sympathetic. Poor thing. "Good day, miss and welcome to the Lick Skittle Diner. Are you here for something to eat, drink, or both?" she started as she got closer. "Please take my hand, I can't see yours." Frances said, holding out hers straight in front of her. "I can guide you to a table if you wish? My name is Clara." "Thank you, Clara. My name's Frances, Frances Grimes, I was hoping..." her stick whacked Crabbe on the ankle bone and the man let out an inadvertent "Ow!!" "Oh, Mr Crabbe! Is that you? Have you seen my brother? Oh, and also he says you owe him some money." the blind girl said, quite forthrightly turning her head as Clara guided her. Crabbe mouthed a curse, not because he did owe Frank Grimes money but because he'd paid him already and the skunk was obviously holding out on his sister. "Frank's outta town. He won't be back until nightfall, he'll get paid tomorrow." it was easier to lie than cause a family row. "But, er, let me stand you breakfast, Franny." he offered, nodding to Clara that he would foot the blind girl's bill. He thought to change the subject quick. "Frances!" she corrected him, coldly. "Say, er, Frances, you're a lady ain't ya?" "I hope so!" Again, there was little warmth in her voice for Lorenzo Crabbe. "Well, I'm sitting here with a feller called Ben Simons and his aunt's starting up a kinda group for young ladies in town, you be interested in something like that?" he asked. Frances, only just sat down, immediately stood up again and, swishing her stick in front of her to the peril of Lorenzo's still throbbing ankle, moved over to them, sticking out a hand miles away from Ben. "Mr Simons, the theatre manager?!" she beamed (word sure had gotten around fast) "How wonderful to meet you, Sir." Crabbe was aware of Clara left dangling. "Just get her the same as us!" he half-whispered to the pregnant diner manager. @Wayfarer @JulieS
  13. [OOC: I think the scene fades there. Like Orr's funeral shroud - it's a wrap]
  14. "Mr. Crabbe? I've heard of him, yes, but I'm afraid I don't know him personally. I own a cafe there, and he's been in a time or two, but he's pretty new to the town." She wished she could be of more help. "Oh dear." Frances sighed "He does sound like the sort of feckless, drifting person that Frank associates with. I fear that this will be Virginia City all over again." "Oh, and I'm Emeline Pike. I'm certain you'll find some sort of employ there. You can even speak to the young lady running the cafe, Clara Connolly, she could likely use help with the dished and such." "Oh, really?" the blind girl exclaimed with excitement. It was hardly the sort of work she desired, of course, but she would do anything short of begging to keep the pair of them fed and sheltered: although Frank had often suggested that she could make him them a hat-full of dollars by 'sittin' dressed in rags with a sign sayin' pity the poor blind and lettin' 'em see them horrible crazy eyes rollin' around in your head!' "I shall remember the name: Clara Connolly, Clara Connolly. I shall certainly look her up when I arrive, and send greeting from Mrs Pike!" she smiled. She repeated the names to remember them, for a memorandum tablet was of no use to her. She chuckled, "You see, my husband, Barnabas, was our dishwasher, and here I've stolen him away for a honeymoon!" "Oh, Mrs Pike, when I get married, my poor husband will have enough to do looking after me: I don't think I could bear to make him wash the dishes, too." she smiled and squeezed Emeline's hand, which she still had hold of. You could do that with another woman; with a man, he might get the wrong idea. One day she would meet a man, though, she was sure, whom she would want to get that idea, but it hadn't happened yet. "Mr Pike must be a wonderful gentleman, and very lucky one, too, in his choice of bride. You see, I have learned to judge people very quickly by their voice and the feel of their hands; I know it sounds mad! But I have never found myself to be wrong: and there is such a warm sunny tone to your voice, Mrs Pike, and such a gentleness to your grip: I hope we can become fast friends when you return to Kalispell." @Bongo
  15. "Give me a whiskey, and don't be cheap." "I take you mean the whiskey," Ralph replied dryly then reached for a more expensive bottle of the stuff, "Irish whiskey, genuine article, that work for ya?" He poured a shotglass up to the brim, "Price comes dear though, that'll be a dollar." Ralph Flandry had to be nice to all the paying customers, of course - at least those who didn't cause trouble. Those rules didn't apply to the handful of loafers, thumb-twiddlers and general miscreants who were hanging around the bar at this time of day instead of doing an honest day's work. One of them had wolf-whistled and uttered a derisive cry of "Say fellers, get a load of this city slicker!" when the well dressed Fortner had walked in. With the unerring attraction of a bully to a weaker looking person, this same scruffy individual now approached and spoke, making sure that the other men, that he was showing off to, could hear him clearly, of course. "Well, well, buyin' the good stuff, eh, Mr Fancy Pants? Must be more money than I thought in being a perfume salesman!" This got a laugh from the other roughs. "Or mayhaps you're one o' them French Dancing Masters like they got back East" (Grimes himself was actually from Cincinnati, hardly the Wild West) "Why don't you give us a demonstration of that there fancy dancin' Mister? And if The Reb's pianna playin' ain't music enough, I can add a little percussion of my own!" He went for his six-shooter, obviously intending to play the oldest Western trick in the book, shooting up the floor at the rube's feet, making him dance a dangerous and humiliating jig. @Preston @Wayfarer [OOC: Preston - deal with this man!]

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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