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    • "Well thank you Walter." He looked to Bradley Fairchild. "Interesting. Shall we put pour bags in the room and perhaps catch a bite and a drink or two? I have no idea what this could be but we'll know soon enough."   "Yes, let's, I could use a drink after that ride out here, maybe a couple, and something to eat, that sounds about right to me." The two men headed to their respective rooms to drop off their bags, then each headed toward the dining room, Tyndall clutching the mysterious envelope.   Each placed his order for an early dinner, and ordered drinks at the same time, those would be served right off so, without further ado, Carson Tydall opened the envelope and removed it's contents. A number of papers, on top a note of explanation. 'Mister Tyndall, Enclosed you will find a copy of a contract between the town of Kalispell and Leah Steelgrave. We believe that due to that absence of the signatures of myself, and Judge Benjamin Robertson there was no legal quorum, and therefor this contract is not valid. C. Latham'   There was the contract, a list of the council members and a copy of the minutes of the meeting where the contract was approved and a bank draft for five hundred dollars.   "Latham, he can be such a pain in the rump!" Tyndall stated.  
    • Rating: PG-14 Content: N/A With: Tully, Clara, maybe more? Location: Lickskillet Cafe When: September/ 1876 Time of Day: Night Tully had a good deal of patience, and could sit very still for hours, it was a skill she had learned at a young age, to stay hidden and unobserved.  Tonight, as she had a few times before, she was crouched at the end of the alley near the cafe, waiting for the last of the customers to leave.  After that, there was a short time when the young woman running the place would leave the kitchen to clean the dining area, and that was when Tully could sneak in the back and grab something...anything, she didn't care, so long as it was edible.   Finally, that last group left, and Tully quietly moved closer to the back door, waiting, listening, and when the lady left the kitchen, she slipped in the back door, grabbing a biscuit and stuffing it in her mouth, then reaching for more that disappeared into pockets.  There was some stew on the stove, but that would have to be put into something easier to carry than the large, hot kettle.   In her haste to pour the stew into a ceramic pitcher, Tully didn't consider that the kettle would still be as hot as it was, and as she picked it up, she let out a yelp, dropping the kettle as well as the pitcher.    Panicked, she looked toward the dining area as she scrambled for the back door, only managing to slip on the stew, tangle in a chair and fall to the floor...   @Wayfarer
    • "Well next time you're 'helpin' a friend', move the bed away from the wall: I had to darn near stuff cotton wool in my ears when I was sleeping next door!"   "You are being overly dramatic....as usual.....that was ONE time and one time only. It just happened, we are not in any sort of a romance," Caroline was annoyed at the very idea of that.   That's when Arabella informed her that Brendan had picked up a job.......at the town butcher shop recently opened by that Jewish man from the East. Very welcome news, that!   "Say, I'm just running to the stores now, look, I got my little basket with me - why don't you come with me and we can call in on him and say Howdy and have a good look at his meat."    Caroline made a face, "I do not cook, you know who does at the saloon by now. She also does the shopping for groceries. I have never been in a butcher shop in my life."   She had other plans in mind, she wanted to head over to the Wigfalls and see Lt. Greene.   Suddenly she had an idea, "But I'll make you a deal. I will accompany you there but in return you must promise me that you will not show up while Lt. Greene and I are dining. Like last time."
    • A perplexed look appeared on Walter's face. Even though he had been looking at the envelope, he hadn't bothered checking out who it was addressed to.  It had been in the slot where mail was dropped off for guests who hadn't checked in yet.  The hotel was busy at this time of year, that the mail slots were only for use for guests who were currently staying at the hotel.  The former occupants of the rooms where Mr. Tyndall and his friend were staying, had left only a few hours ago.  Thankfully, Mr. Wentworth had a hired maids who did their jobs well enough to have the room ready in time.   Reading the name on the envelope, he saw that it was indeed address to Tyndall.  Smiling sheepishly, he handed over to the man.   He hefted the envelope wondering what was inside, but there was time to look at it when he was in his room. "Who dropped this off for me? Mister Latham perhaps?"   "Sorry, Mr. Tyndall I have no idea.  It was probably dropped off some time during the night.  You could ask the night clerk when he comes on duty at 8 o'clock."   @Flip
    • They returned to the Marshal's office which doubled as the Copper Queen's office for the time being. And, as Town Marshal, he needed to be in town as much as possible, which was not fair either Alice or Amos, at least as far as Speed was concerned. Yes, there was Charlie, but heaping too much on him was not fair either. He was hired to protect the town, no his own personal interests, although that was common in some parts of the country.   But with Alice for company, that made sitting at his desk a whole lot more pleasant. Waiting for Amos, who might be days getting back to Kalispell, would be worry enough for the pair of them.   As Speed was about to ask Alice about the wedding plans a man stepped through the door. A man he had seen, and possibly talked to, wearing two guns.   "'scuse me Marshal, I can come back." He said.   "No, it's alright. What can I do for you?" Speed asked.   "I was wondering, could you use some help, or know where a man short on cash might find work?" Speed looked at the man, "Names Thornton, Tyrell Thornton."

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Rating: PG
Content: N/A

With: Mr. Kaufman, maybe Miriam if she's around?
Location: The Kaufman Butcher shop
When: Late July/Early August, 1876 (soon after Bridget goes to live with the Wentworths)
Time of Day: Morning




Brendan stopped outside the butcher shop, took off his hat, and pushed open the door. "Mr. Kaufman?" he called. How had it come to this? Asking for a job slaughtering and dismembering the very animals he'd used to care for? He reminded himself it wouldn't just be cows. It might be pigs and chickens, too. Like that made it any better. But, if he was hired here, he would at least have a job. That would get him one step closer to Bridget.


He hadn't tried to see Bridget yet because he'd realized Mrs. Wentworth wasn't the type to allow any sort of nonsense. She probably thought he was a no-account delinquent, anyway. Well, he'd show her. He'd get a job and prove that he was at least worthy to visit Bridget and talk with her for a while. 


But getting a job had proven to be more difficult than he expected -- no one wanted to hire a (rumored) murderer and former Evergreen hand -- and so he'd ended up here. Maybe the Jewish Mr. Kaufman would be sympathetic to his plight, although being shunned because you were Jewish and being shunned because of your bad choices were two completely different kettles of fish.





Edited by Bailey (see edit history)
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The Kaufmann Butcher Shop was quite new and built along the fashion of the place Mr. Ezekiel Kaufmann once worked in back in New York City. There were plenty of hooks from which hung various animal carcasses on the side walls. Beneath the main counter was a glass display case with all sorts of sausages, jerky, and other sorts of sliced meat on display. The floor was covered with a thick layer of sawdust which was swept up at the end of every day and replaced in the morning with fresh.


Now, of course, the actual half of the business where the bloody work of slaughtering took place was not in view for the customers, it was grim work and would no doubt upset queasy stomachs of customers. There was also a small basement storage with barrels of salted meat kept as cool as possible.


Into this strange world, stepped in Brendan Connelly.


"Mr. Kaufman?" he called.


From the back a young lad stepped out, clad in a bloody apron, he was maybe eleven, twelve if Brendan had to guess. Not that it mattered.



"Hello, would you like to buy something, sir?" Abraham smiled at the customer.




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  • 2 weeks later...

Brendan had ambled over to the glass case to look at all the meat. With his mouth watering, he scanned the smorgasbord of offerings there. The sight reminded him that it was hard to eat without a job. So far he'd done all right, but he couldn't keep drifting around town aimlessly.


He frowned in bemusement when the young boy walked out. Well, this certainly wasn't Mr. Kaufman. Was it? Arabella had talked about Miriam but hadn't mentioned a boy. If there was a son to help with the business, it wasn't likely that the actual Mr. Kaufman would need him.


"Well..." he hesitated, once again wrestling with pride. Asking around for work wasn't getting any easier even though he was doing it more often. Finally he looked at the boy and gave him a smile. "I was actually hopin' to talk to your Pa. He around?"


He knew this boy surely wouldn't have the authority to hire him, so he needed to talk to the person who could.



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"Well..." Finally Brendan looked at the boy and gave him a smile. "I was actually hopin' to talk to your Pa. He around?"


"Sure is, he's in back. Just a minute," the boy seemed quite willing to please then spun about and disappeared into the interior of the building.


It didn't take long before a short solidly built man emerged with the lad following him right up. The man was wearing a full length apron, spattered with blood, and equally bloody work gloves.


"Good day, young man, Abraham said you wish to speak with me?" there was a definite accent there... part New York with a bit of German. 





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Brendan shifted his weight from foot to foot while he waited for the young man to return. What if the kid just decided not to come back? Not to get Mr. Kaufman? But return he did, in the wake of an older bearded man. Now this was Mr. Kaufman.


"Yeah, I do," he began, then, thinking he should show a little more respect if he wanted a job, he started again. "Yessir, I do. I wanted to see if you needed any extra help around the place. I know my way around animals pretty good."


After making this declaration, he stood staring at Mr. Kaufman's bloody apron, fiddling with the brim of his hat. There wasn't much more he could say. If the man asked who he was -- if he somehow didn't know already -- he would have to be honest. But until he was asked, he didn't feel like volunteering the information.

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Mr. Kaufmann actually approved when the young cowboy, for he certainly looked that part - not a townie, corrected to  'yes sir'. Before he could say anything though Abraham piped up.


"Even dead ones?" the boy grinned.


"Abraham, you stay quiet now. This is between this gentleman and myself. Go back to your duties," the elder Kaufmann frowned, he was a no nonsense type.


"Do not mind him, he needs to know his place," the butcher explained then got back to the real subject of the conversation.


"So extra help, eh? Tell me, before we discuss such things, would it not be more proper if we knew each other by name. Let us start with your name."


Miriams-father.jpg       @Bailey

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Brendan broke into a grin at the young boy's question. He didn't mind the interruption one bit. Before the boy turned to obey his father, he nodded at him. "Mostly live ones, but a couple dead ones."


He'd butchered the odd cow or two during his time as a cowpoke, and he knew enough about the outsides of animals that he figured there wouldn't be much more to the inside of them. But even if he was wrong, he knew he was a fast learner.


Then he focused his attention back on Mr. Kaufman, who had asked the dreaded question. Damn. Well, here went nothing. Locking eyes with the older man, he said clearly, "Brendan Connolly," then hastily tacked on, "sir."


After waiting only a second, he decided to forge ahead. "And you must be Mr. Kaufman? I've heard about you from Arabella Mudd." Well, he'd mostly heard about Miriam. But surely there'd been some tidbits about Mr. Kaufman, too?


Perhaps Arabella was not the best person to reference when in search of a job, but neither was she the worst. Whatever her faults were, she always had others' best interests at heart. Hopefully this Mr. Kaufman had seen Arabella at her best, and not at her worst like Brendan had.



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The elder Kaufmann now wished to know the job seekers name, it always helped to know the name of a person you conversed with.


"Brendan Connolly," then hastily tacked on, "sir."


The name was completely unfamiliar to the veteran butcher but then he did not read the local newspaper.


The young man added, . "And you must be Mr. Kaufman? I've heard about you from Arabella Mudd."


"Ahhh, yes, Miss Mudd, my daughter Miriam's friend,"  Mr. Kaufmann nodded, his facial expression telling nothing.


"So then, you would start at the bottom. You must be wlling to do any work I give you. If you are...what is the word? Squeamish... or cannot abide at the sight of blood, you will not fit in here," he was blunt alright.






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Character: Brendan Connolly


Oddly enough, Mr. Kaufman didn't seem to care about Brendan's name once he'd said it. And he didn't react one way or the other when Brendan mentioned Arabella. Most people had strong reactions to the girl. Well, that was probably for the best.


"I ain't squeamish." He could at least say that truthfully. Lord knew he'd seen more than enough of his share of blood in the past few months, what with first Billy's death and then Crabbe's. There was no reason he couldn't handle cutting up cows and pigs and chickens.


"So you could use the help, then?" he asked, deciding to press his advantage. After all, the butcher had his own son working for him. Unless the family had lots of customers in town, he found it hard to believe that Mr. Kaufman might really need him.



Edited by Bailey (see edit history)
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  • 2 weeks later...

"I ain't squeamish," the young man declared sounding confident.


"Well, that is good to know. The job does get a bit......messy," Mr. Kauffman nodded, pleased to hear it.


"So you could use the help, then?" asked Brendan.


"Yes, yes I could. My Abraham helps around here of course but his mother and I both want him to go to school, be properly educated. School is during the day, right when my place is open," answered the proprietor.


"Now though, I must see how you do. I will not simply hand you a regular position only to have it all fall thru. You will need to prove yourself. Not simply the work, but being here on time, being willing to both learn and follow my instructions. And getting along with the customers, even the annoying ones."



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What luck! Brendan silently exulted in the fact that the Kaufmans thought education was so important. As long as they didn't try to educate him, he was happy to take Abraham's place.


"Yessir. I'll be here on time, and I'm a fast learner." He grinned, although he was a little worried about the last bit: getting along with the customers. People were so much more annoying than animals. But, just like working with animals, working with people was something he could learn.


But before the deal could be completely sealed, Brendan knew he needed to make Mr. Kaufman aware of his recent past. He shifted his weight, then came out with it.


"There is somethin' you oughta know. I got caught up in a...a real mess a couple weeks back. Pretty near got accused of murder. It's mostly blown over now, but I don't want this to come back to bite ya." 


If the man wanted more details, he could give an ear to gossip. But Brendan had done what he'd thought best. Just a few weeks ago, he'd have been prone to hide the truth as long as he could. But Crabbe's death had forced him to rethink the way he'd been living and consider more how his actions affected others. And this was something that could very well affect Mr. Kaufman's business, if Granny Miggins hadn't been set straight about what really happened, and if she had as much influence as she pretended to.


Of course, he'd left out the part about his relationship with Bridget. No need to alienate the (presumably) very straight-laced man any more than he needed to.

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