Jump to content
  • Recently Browsing

    • No registered users viewing this page.

  • Recently Used Characters

  • Posts

    • "Ain't hardly nothin' to do but hunker down till she blows herself out." The man squatted, "Rance, is the name. Been watchin' you, doin' a fine job. You'll do Wheeler, you'll do. Try and get some rest, might end up bein' a long night. Least you won't be ridin' drag come daylight, there's a plus for ya."   He stood and made his way to his shelter to await the grub that was coming.   @Bongo
    • Meanwhile, in the main house, Reb Culverson was visiting with his old friend Fightin' Joe Hooker, who was the ramrod for the fledgling Montana Territory Stockgrowers Association, Northern District. He was there to convince ranchers to join and support the organization, hoping it would take root.   "And just what good is this here association ya got started?" Reb asked.   "It'll give us a voice in the territorial government, Reb, that's what it'll do. Once that happens we'll be able to git us some sortta range police to protect the herds, and the ranchers." Hooker responded. "Rustlin' might not be the threat it was, but you know as well as me, it can come back."   "You get anywhere with Lost Lake, 'er that cow thief on the Evergreen?" Reb asked.   "Can't say as I have, startin' with the smaller spreads an' workin' my way up to them two. I'm well aware of both spreads, and the men that own 'em."   -------------0------------   They swept down out of the trees whooping and hollering and firing off a couple of shots as they closed on both sides of a big group of cattle, just as they had planned. The  lone night hawk knew he had no chance of stopping the raiders, or of saving the cattle while he watched the chunk of the herd moving toward and then into the trees at a run.  He emptied his Colt at the raiders, the whipped out his Winchester  and levered several shots in the area where they had disappeared.   He could not know that one of his shots had found its mark. A man that had just joined took a slug in his back and toppled from his horse. Toole and the men continued to drive the cattle toward the dry riverbed as planned. It was an acceptable loss.   The sound of the shots, mere pops at the distance to the main house and the bunk house alerted everyone, and men boiled out of the bunk house guns in hand, only to watch the night man shooting after the rustlers.
    • Out on the boardwalk they stopped, "So we managed ta git a deal right off, thet's good, it is. Now all we gotta do is convince ol' Wentworth to free up the money so's ya don't have ta use yers right off." Amos commented, "Seems a fair deal but like you say, minin's not no sure thing."   "John and Mary are good folks. It's not a sure thing, but you saw the vein, went to the floor and it looks rich," Speed responded. "And it looks to be wider where they stopped digging. I can't wait to get it assayed to see what we've really got our hands on."   "And it should assay out pretty good from the looks of it, though I know so little about copper ore." Alice admitted.   "Well, you saw the copper ore, which is clearly distinguishable from the surrounding rock due to its reddish, mottled appearance. And that surrounding rock is granite which is not easy to work, but it can be done, and, if we have hit it, the veins could be as much as a mile long, a mile wide, and a mile deep!" Speed explained with a grin. "With that equipment we'll be able to not only dig deeper, we'll be able to tunnel, and we have the property to do just that."   "Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!" Amos exclaimed. Might oughtta buy up what ground ya can aound 'er, jest ta be certain!"   "First things first, let get on up to the bank." Speed suggested.
    • Justus was more than happy to have a chance to get out of the bulk of the wind, although he knew this was far from over.  And he knew they'd be hacking up dirt for days.     With the picket lines set, he moved over to help put up the shelters for the night, pretty quickly deciding that it was a fool's errand...they were all going to be miserable until this let up.   Squinting, he looked out toward the herd, not able to see but a few in the dust, it looked like they had been swallowed by the big, dirty cloud, and weren't even there.  In fact, he had the eerie sensation that all that was left in the world was this small circle of men and horses.   "Ya need me ta do anythin' else?" he called over the din of the wind.   @Flip
    • Doc Gilcrest walked into the bunck house to see Carson on his feet, dressed. "I may not be able to ride, but I can darn sure walk some. Tired of layin' in that bed."   "I reckon you kin do thet, sure 'nough. No body said ya had ta lie there if'n ya didn't want to. Yer stitched up plenty good. Jest leave thet hog leg where she's hangin' fer now, don't need the weight in thet wound."   "So anybody come sniffin' around?" He asked.   "Not so's you'd notice. There's four men down there keepin' watch, but it don't look like Lost Lake's lost any sleep over their man, that is if'n they even know he's gone." Gilcrest offered.   "He seen that brand an' went ta shootin'!" Carson reflected. "I jest shot straighter. Had no choice in the matter. Fool could'a rode on, but, well, that just ain't what happened. Hell of a mess."   "Oh I dunno. So far nobodies come huntin', the boss ain't upset over it, neither's Granger, so you got nothin' ta worry on 'cept gettin' better."   "I should'a been more careful, but maybe there just wasn't no way to be more careful. Up on the side of that mountain is the purdiest view a man could look at. You can see fer miles, see right where they got them cows of theirs. Now that ain't gonna be no easy matter to get to any of 'em. They're deep on Lost Lake range. Gonna be hard to get at, an' worse to get out. We'll lose some men tryin' this one, that's for sure!'   Gilcrest rubbed his chin. It wasn't like Carson to go on about the prospects of a job.

The Arrival of Phinn McVay


Phinias G. McVay
 Share

Recommended Posts

Fort Kalispell was now a mere dot on his back trail. Phineas G. McVay sat on the seat of his Champion Freighter, a Conestoga style wagon, sans the large hoops and canvas cover so common on the trails west. Oh, he had a cover to be sure. For in the box with what remained of his worldly possessions were the tools of his trade, a printing press, and type case, plus ink and paper packaged in oilcloth for protection.

 

Having initially started out with two mules, he soon realized before he even got started that it would take either two more mules, or, a pair of oxen which would be supplemented by the mules he already had when necessary. He oped for the oxen.

 

That had been three months ago. The layover at Fort Kalispel allowed the animals to rest up, and he to resupply. That would be foodstuffs, one new pair of canvas trousers to replace a pair of woollies ruined weeks before fording the Flathead River to the south of the fort and his destination of Kalispell. Phinn, as he liked to be called, had been fortunate since leaving Omaha in the early spring. He’d avoided Indian trouble, been dealt a good hand in so far as the weather had been concerned. He’d been caught in the open during thunderstorms but had survived unscathed, now his destination lay just ahead, her once silhouetted buildings now taking on details and color instead of the blacks and greys he had been seeing.

 

Phinn was tall at five foot eleven for the period where the average man stood somewhere between five foot five and five foot eight. He was of medium build, one hundred sixty pounds,  with brown hair and blue eyes. An outgoing personality, warm and friendly until a different trait is required. A veteran of the war between the states, riding with Nathan Bedford Forest until the end of the war. All of that now a memory.

 

The oxen trudged into the main street of Kalispell and stopped in front of the Marshal’s office. Phinn set the break, stepped down to the hard-packed street and stretched before stepping up onto the boardwalk. In three steps he was at the door, turning the knob and pushing it open.

 

Tag @Stormwolfe

Edited by Stormwolfe (see edit history)
Link to comment
Share on other sites

scottcory.jpgFor the most part, the town of Kalispell and the surrounding Flathead county area was a peaceful place to live. Sure, there were those that wanted to make trouble and others that just wanted to blow off steam. The trick was knowing which type was which. Still, it was getting bigger with more and more settlers heading toward northwest Montana territory. The upside was that Kalispell was nowhere near the hell-hole that the town of Whitefish was and the town's marshal intended that it would stay that way.


None of that troubled Kalispell's town marshal. Scott Cory was an even-tempered man who had served the law enforcement community well for many years. It was only recently that he had started giving thoughts to retiring. It wasn't time yet. The only qualified replacement right now was Hannah, and she had shown no interest in taking over once he stepped down. Truthfully, this was not the life he hoped for his only daughter. Not that she wasn't as good as any of his men. No, he kept hoping that someone would ride into town that had the interest, even temperament, and the skills to take the reins.


These thoughts were interrupted when the bell over the door chimed, and a man walked into the office. Scott lowered his feet off the desk and sat up straight, his steely-gray eyes sharpening at the sight of the stranger.


"Howdy there. Can I help you?" Scott asked, one eyebrow raised slightly.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Phinn smiled as he closed the door behind him. "Hello, name's McVy, Phinias McVay.  New in town and lookin' for a place to light and publish a newspaper." He began. "Thought this'd be the best place to start. Need a building. maybe one where it has quarters above or behind. Have just about everything I need for the paper, press, paper ink, just need a place to put it all."

 

He knew that the town had no paper, Phinn was the type who investigated thing before he proceeded, so he was well aware that there was no publisher outside of Missoula or Great Falls, so Kalsipel would be open and circulation for the Northwestern part of the state would be his for the cultivating.

 

"Hopefully you can help with the search, or direct me to someone that can." He finished, removing his hat and running his fingers through his hair before replacing the hat.

Edited by Stormwolfe (see edit history)
Link to comment
Share on other sites

"I'm Marshal Scott Cory. Good to meet ya." Cory responded to the man's greeting.


Scott Cory pushed his hat back and scratched his head. There had been a paper a while back. The Kalispell Town Crier had opened soon after the army had relocated the town outside of the fort. It had soon folded up shop and closed its doors. However, if this Phinn McVay gentleman was willing to take on other print jobs, he might make a go of it. The owner of the Town Crier had considered printing pamphlets and wanted fliers beneath his skill set.


"Well now, we could sure use another printer in town. Especially if you are willing to take on more work than just newspaper'in." The Marshal told the man. "The building that used to house the Kalispell Town Crier is still empty, and I believe there was an apartment upstairs. Bank probably holds the deed now."

Edited by Stormwolfe (see edit history)
Link to comment
Share on other sites

“Yes sir Marshal, that’s exactly what I do, job printing of all sorts. Doubt we’d be doing a daily, well, not just yet anyway.” Phinn stated. Job printing was really the backbone of a printer. A weekly newspaper should suffice, although he had contacts for national news, local news was usually what folks wanted most.

 

“Well, the building sounds to be the perfect answer, who would I speak to at the bank about it?” The idea that there was a building, and that it had been used for a printing office was a real stroke of luck. "Like to get that piece of business out of the way as soon as I can. get some bodies to help with the press and get myself set up and in business."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"See Mr. Stanley Croft over at the bank, he's the owner and realtor," Cory said, scribbling the man's name and a note on a piece of paper which he handed to McVay.


"We've had to send to Missoula to get our incident forms and wanted fliers printed," the marshal added. "Sure would rather give that business to a local here in town."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Mister Croft is it, well I'll be right on over there and see if we can't make us a deal." Phinn said with a smile. He already liked this town, the press wasn't in place and he already had job requests. Forms were quite simple once the type was set and the form locked down. "Well Deputy, you let the Marshal know that as soon as I'm set up I'll get right to those forms. Good day to you then."

 

Phinn was a happy man, and if this could be worked out with the banker then all would truly be well. That is, until his first editorial criticizing someone of importance,  and there was always someone of importance to criticize. It was seemingly the nature of the beast.

 

"Good Day and good luck, Mr. McVay," the Marshal replied.

Edited by Stormwolfe (see edit history)
Link to comment
Share on other sites

Phinn stepped out of the Marshals Office, looked up and down the main street locating not just the bank, but all of the prominent businesses as well. Especially the Stardust Saloon, now there was a purely welcome sight, and a grand possibility for his alternate office. That had sometimes been a problem in Omaha, but this would be his newspaper, his very own newspaper so maybe, he thought, the Stardust would not be his alternate office. Time for a change.

 

He checked the wagon and the animals the walked directly to the bank and through its front door. There were three people that would be ahead of him, should he have had joined the line, but the teller was not whom he wanted to see. His quarry was seated at a desk behind a simple rail divider and a gate adjacent to the teller's cage. He proceeded to it directly stopping just outside the rail.

 

“Mister Stanley Croft?” He asked in a booming voice. “Phinias G. McVay, editor, and publisher of your soon to be weekly newspaper the, uh, Kalispel Union. Yes sir, the Union, and Sir, job printing as well.”

 

Stanley was taken back a bit by this man’s abrupt arrival at his desk, although there was the rail between them. He stood, “Step in Mister McVay, how is it that I can help you?”

 

“The Marshal informed you that you have a building ideally suited for the Union. Let’s get to its availability and cost then.” Phinn responded.

 

“Well, I must say, you are direct and to the point.” Croft pointed out. “Seven hundred is the asking price, however,” he paused as he saw that McVay was about to object, holding up a hand. “I’m a reasonable man, McVay. That is a lot of money, I agree, now if there were certain considerations...”

 

“Such as?” Phinn asked, finding yet another man he liked in this town.

 

“Perhaps a discount on our printing needs of say forty percent, with some free advertising?” Was the offer. “And, five hundred fifty dollars, we do accept payments with an appropriate down payment of ten percent.”

 

Phinn smiled. “Five hundred, cash, today. Twenty-five percent discount and a full page add each month for the first year.”

 

Stanley Croft narrowed his eyes as he looked at the man. He knew he had made his first offer too low, and now, well the place had stood empty far too long, and this was a chance at some profit. Not as much he had wanted, but being too quick had cost him, even though he owned it free and clear. “Mister McVay?” Croft’s hand came across the desk, “You have a deal, Sir.”

 

Out came the bottle of bourbon followed by a pair of glasses. "Johnson!"

 

Tag @JulieS

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Luke Johnson, the teller quickly finished the transaction for the last customer in the queue, before he made his way over to Mr. Croft.

 

"Yes sir?"  He asked.

 

"Get me the file on that old printing building."  He smiled at McVay, "We have ourselves a new owner."

 

"Yes, sir, " Luke replied as he turned and headed towards the filing cabinet where all the title deeds were kept.

 

As he searched for the file, he thought about how his life in general.  He had started work as a teller only a few weeks ago and he knew that if he worked hard enough, he might one day become a bank officer with a desk of his own.  Kalispell was a growing town and there would be a need for more bank employees in the future, especially those who had good sound business knowledge like he did.  Now that he was married, it was more important than ever to impress and please Mr. Croft.  Sometime in the future he and Ruth would be starting a family and he would need to better his prospects.

 

When he had found the file, he went over and handed to Mr. Croft and waited patiently for his next instruction.

 

@Flip

Link to comment
Share on other sites

When croft had the file in hand, the smiled at Luke. "Thank you," he said, liking the lad and the way he took on his responsibilities, not just retrieval of the file, but how he was with customers. The young man would go far in this world he thought. "Luke, this is Mister Phinias McVay who will be publishing a newspaper before very long in the olf Prescott building." He announced tapping the file.

 

Tag @JulieS

 

“A pleasure, and say, I’m in need of four or five strapping young men to unload my press and supplies, be a couple dollars in it.” Phinn offered. With cowboys earning a dollar a day, a couple of dollars for perhaps two hours work should be quite tempting.

 

Tag @JulieS

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Quote

When croft had the file in hand, the smiled at Luke. "Thank you," he said, liking the lad and the way he took on his responsibilities, not just retrieval of the file, but how he was with customers. The young man would go far in this world he thought. "Luke, this is Mister Phinias McVay who will be publishing a newspaper before very long in the olf Prescott building." He announced tapping the file. 

Luke nodded,  "Welcome to Kalispell, Mr. McVay."

 

Quote

“A pleasure, and say, I’m in need of four or five strapping young men to unload my press and supplies, be a couple dollars in it.” Phinn offered. With cowboys earning a dollar a day, a couple of dollars for perhaps two hours work should be quite tempting.

"Well I don't know about any men who will be interested as most of them work on the ranches or have jobs here in town.  However, I'm sure that will be plenty of young fellas who are nearly finished their schooling who be would be more than eager to help you."

 

@Flip

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Well now, that's too bad, both for the Union and those who'll miss out on some easy money," Phin said. "But it's good to meet you. I'll just head over to the school and see what I can get done.  Get the press up and running, get the first edition out as fast as possible." He said to no one in particular. He removed the money belt from around his waist. "Believe I'll not only pay you I'll also be opening an account. There'll be transactions for the paper and such."

 

Tag @JulieS

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 2 weeks later...

It was three days getting the shop set up, slower than Phinn would have liked, but at last, it was ready it was ready for production.

A Printers Devil would be a nice edition and make things go a bit faster as he was sure whoever took the job would need to be trained. Well, that was easily done. Phinn was a patient man, and he was not attempting a daily, at least not for the foreseeable future. A weekly would suffice for a town long without a paper.

 

His first job was a poster advertising for a Printers Devil. He would run several for display in high traffic areas of town and then, as always, hope for the best.

 

WANTED

PRINTERS DEVIL

WAGES $.60 PER WEEK

TRAINING PROVIDED

KALISPELL UNION

NEWS ITEMS ACCEPTED

 

 

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Guest
This topic is now closed to further replies.
 Share

×
×
  • Create New...