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    • Montgomery the Pocket Gopher had proven to be lots of fun. Once out of his cage he had proceeded to run up Jemima’s arm and onto her head, and the homely looking girl had had to bend forward to allow Weedy to lift him off and give him a cuddle. Despite his vicious looking incisors, he never nipped at his human overlords, they who knew where the peanuts were kept!   Jemima had something else she wanted to show the diminutive lad, and beckoned him over to a glass tank, a miniature version of the one that Lamia slept in. She pointed to a small, anonymous looking spider in there, sitting grumpily under a bit of decorative tree bark.   “See that, that’s a fiddleback spider: they’re the most poisonous spiders ever. And if it bites you a great big ulcer grows on you and you die a horrible screaming death, foamin' at the mouth and blood spurtin' out of your ears and nose!" she said proudly, as if she were personally responsible for the tiny animal’s toxicity.   “And one time she escaped and we had to look all over for her, and eventually we saw her on the back of the Professor’s neck! And Mrs O’ screamed and near fainted, but I got a jam jar and coaxed it on in there and the Professor said I was the bravest girl he’d ever met!”     @Bongo
    • Her smile was a bit wistful as she added, "There's times I wonder if I wasn't born in th' wrong time an' th' wrong britches."   F. Falmer Browne gave an indulgent smile to this but said nothing. He would have to admit to himself that when he had first lain eyes on Miss Adelaide Chappell, now sat before him in all the becoming trappings of a woman, virtually dressed as a man on her wagon-driving expeditions in and out of town, he had wondered. True, male attire was handier for her trade, but she seemed to go that way at most hours of the day, except for very formal functions like the Ladies (so called!) Society Meeting of this morning.   When he had lived in the vast metropolis of New York, that Sodom and Gomorrah of these disunited United States, he had seen two types of women dressed as men: the first were demimondes of the stage, who dressed as ‘boys’ in fanciful tights to merely titillate their audiences (usually successfully, Browne had to admit) with a well-shaped leg, and secondly, some women of the more bohemian quarters who dressed as men because, apart from their physical form, they were men, in their own minds.   Walking with a friend down Broadway, he had seen two such women, walking arm in arm, and his friend had remarked “See those creatures, Browne? Disgusting! God must weep when He sees such sinful animals on parade. The police should arrest them and some Judge put the filthy animals to hard labor on the treadmill.” Browne had, cowardly he now knew, consented, but really wondered if it was not God Himself who had played such a rotten trick on them. At least in New York, teeming with every nation and type under the Sun, two such ‘creatures’ might find each other. For any man or woman ‘that way inclined’ out here in a small town like Kalispell, such proclivities must result in a lonely and loveless life indeed.   Addy’s talk of Jay Ryker and their evident love for one another did Browne good to hear, despite a slight pang of jealousy: it meant that this lovely woman was not destined for a life of loneliness. There must be others in town, though, hidden and trapped in their unusual sexuality, who were destined to ever drink from the well of loneliness.
    • "Oh, well certainly. If you would rather talk there. Anyplace is fine with us," Clara would have agreed to discuss it even if he had suggested the middle of a river. She just wanted to get it done!   The four of them shuffled back to the rear of the church and through the little-used back door, into the main part of the building where the pews were neatly rowed and the pulpit stood empty at the far end.   The man then offered, "I could fix something to drink? Tea perhaps?"    "No thank you, we do not wish you to have to make a fuss on our account," she gently shook her head in the negative.   “Ooh, It’s no fuss Clara! I’ll fix that, Brother.” Arabella gushed obsequiously “You three will want to talk privately.”   She would also, perhaps a little too optimistically at this point, fetch out a blank marriage certificate, for she knew where Pastor Evans stored them. In fact, she’d had a good root through most of the drawers and cupboards in his little office, off the vestry, and found some amazing and interesting stuff. Her favourites were a collection of pictures in a little book which, she assumed, the good Pastor must have confiscated off some sinful parishioner in the past.   @boshmi @Wayfarer
    • "All right, if this has anything to do with getting rid of ol' Klutz, then I'll do it," he said in a slightly slurred tone.  The whiskey was now starting to affect his speech, "Clara's gotta see that I'm the better man."   Crabbe nodded. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was hoping to get out of this situation, but he had made a living, the last six years of his life, by exploiting other men’s passions, and this young feller had passion in spades. Lorenzo recognised it for the sort of dangerous, jealous, twisted, brooding passion that so often haunts the hearts of men where women are concerned, and knew it would have to be handled with kid gloves to benefit himself any.   “Problem is, he’s ensorcelled her with these here love poems.” Lorenzo slyly took up a theme that Charlie himself had mentioned. “You attack him, she’ll just cleave tighter to the stupid lookin’ bastard.” He’d never seen this Klutz feller, but it didn’t harm to insult him in Charlie’s presence.   “We gotta work on her.” He said, thinking fast. “First of all, we gotta make you a more attractive proposition, er, make her kinda jealous of you, see? Make ol' Clara see you in a better light. Hmmm, you know any girls? I mean, not like Arabella, pretty girls.”   @JulieS
    • "Well." Thomas declared, sitting upwards in his chair. "I wonder what Arabella has gotten up to. I do hope I haven't complicated anything by bringing her along. Your wife seemed... er... unenthusiastic about her presence."   As if on cue, there was a crashing noise from the distant kitchen and Arabella’s voice sounded an “Ooops!”, but nonetheless, the two women presently appeared, carrying coffee and cake.   “Now, how are you two boys getting along?” asked Arabella, as if Thomas and Gideon were two five-year olds on their first playdate. Mrs Evans attended to the domestic stuff while Arabella jumped up and down, plexing her fingertips together with excitement.   “What do you want me to play on the harmonium, fellers?!” she asked excitedly, just hoping it wasn’t that well-known mondegreen “Bringing in the Sheep” which required notes that the poor old instrument could no longer sound. Arabella always had to substitute other notes in the same chord which made her playing sound like she’d invented jazz forty years too early.   @JulieS @boshmi

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“All right, but you come too. Don’t worry, it’ll be all right, we won’t go in the saloon, we’ll go round the back where I make the deliveries. I don’t think I’m in Arabella’s good books right now, but she’ll do anything for you.”  Jacob replied.

 

"Oh...alright," Clara seemed reluctant but not because of Arabella, she did actually like the girl, in small doses. But saloons were not the sort of places a proper young lady was to be seen in...of course to be blunt now she realized she actually wasn't a proper young lady anymore.

 

When the couple reached the back door and Jacob was about to open it, it suddenly opened before his hand could even touch the doorknob. There was Matilda Devereau who instantly recognized the lad at least, he delivered food stuffs on occasion from his farm, vegetables for Cookie's popular stew. The saloon made no real attempt to compete with the local diner establishment but they did at least serve a tasty stew that customers enjoyed. Personally Matilda thought Cookie added too much salt but one thing you never do was tell a cook how to do their job. That is if you wanted her to stay working for you. Now recognizing the lanky jasper and knowing his full name were two different things though.

 

"Oh....yer the ....Lutz boy, right? " as she asked she looked at the brunette practically glued to the lad's side and then past them both. No wagon in the alley. Hmmm.

 

"You got a delivery for us?" she then asked.

 

Matilda-again.jpg

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Every single time Jacob had been to that back door it had been opened either by Arabella or the Saloon’s rotund cook, Messalina McMahon. Oh, and by Mr Flandry, the barman, once. But to be faced my Matilda Devereau, the owner of the place, was a bit of a shock, and Jacob was speechless for a moment.

 

"Oh....yer the ....Lutz boy, right? " as she asked she looked at the brunette practically glued to the lad's side and then past them both. No wagon in the alley. Hmmm.

 

“Yes Ma’m!” yelped the Lutz boy nervously and snatched off his hat in deference.

 

"You got a delivery for us?" she then asked.

 

For one horrible second Jacob thought she meant delivery as in a baby being delivered, but then realised that was ridiculous and the women had only ever seen him deliver farm produce. What an idiot he felt.

 

“Er, not today Ma’m, we were wondering if you could tell us if the Reverend Reed was at home to callers, or if he’s moved on to another abode.” God, why was he speaking so formally? It was nerves, he felt like the woman could see right through them and knew exactly what they’d been up to, what condition Clara was in, and why they desperately needed to see the man of God.

 

It didn't help that Arabella was always telling him stories about how cruel and heartless and terrifying an employer Matilda was.

 

@Wayfarer

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Matilda was actually quite a skillful liar and commenced to prove it.

 

"Rev. Reed? Ohhh, yes that new preacher in town. Who said he lived here? Nonsense. He's a man of God and this ain't a house of God," she declared, really to protect the clergyman's rep more than anything.

 

"He did come in here....once, when he first showed up in town. To ask directions and get the lay of the town. But he never lived here," she then smiled.

 

"One of my employees is an avid churchgoer, she might know where he lives now," she added.

 

"Yes, Arabella," Clara interjected since no either introduced her nor asked who she was.

 

"Yes, that's her in all her glory," smirked the woman.

 

Clara blinked, "If you say so, ma'am."

 

"Well come on in, get enough bugs in the place without holding the door wide open for more to sashshay in," Matilda now stepped back to allow entrance.

 

"Oh ...umm, " Clara began but Jacob went right on in so she figured she better follow. The saloon was open, one could easily hear the sound of customers' laughing and shouting, apparently having a good time.

 

"So....Mr. Lutz, I seem to recall you have an older sister, is this her?" Matilda asked.

 

"What?" Clara was pretty sure she had just been insulted, "No, I am not."

 

 

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"Rev. Reed? Ohhh, yes that new preacher in town. Who said he lived here? Nonsense. He's a man of God and this ain't a house of God," she declared, really to protect the clergyman's rep more than anything.

 

Jacob manfully resisted the urge to point at Clara and say “She did!” Instead he gave a nondescript shrug.

 

"He did come in here....once, when he first showed up in town. To ask directions and get the lay of the town. But he never lived here," she then smiled. 

 

Jacob thought he’d better make an effort to show he believed her, like it mattered if he’d lived there or not. Wasn’t Jesus friends with publicans? “Who knows how these rumours start, huh!?” he proffered, feeling like his words were strangely pompous somehow.

 

"One of my employees is an avid churchgoer, she might know where he lives now," she added.

 

"Yes, Arabella," Clara interjected since no either introduced her nor asked who she was.

 

"Yes, that's her in all her glory," smirked the woman.

 

Clara blinked, "If you say so, ma'am."

 

“Good old Reb!” chimed in Jacob, feeling he ought to chime in.

 

"Well come on in, get enough bugs in the place without holding the door wide open for more to sashshay in," Matilda now stepped back to allow entrance.

 

"Oh ...umm, " Clara began but Jacob went right on in so she figured she better follow. The saloon was open, one could easily hear the sound of customers' laughing and shouting, apparently having a good time.

 

"So....Mr. Lutz, I seem to recall you have an older sister, is this her?" Matilda asked.

 

Despite the strangeness of the situation, Jacob couldn’t help having to stifle a laugh at this. Lee would have been horizonal in a dead faint by this point in the proceedings, Clara was made of sterner stuff.

 

"What?" Clara was pretty sure she had just been insulted, "No, I am not."

 

“Just another pal of Arabella’s” explained Jacob, deciding not to bandy Clara’s still good name around.

 

Arabella, in a room just off the kitchen when the laundry got done, heard the familiar voices but it never occurred to her that the female one could be Clara Redmond, not here in this disgraceful den of iniquity. Jacob, on the other hand.

 

“Hey! Is that Hayseed?!!” she yelled with leather lungs. “Get in here, stranger, I need a hand pullin’ down ma bloomers!” she implored, for indeed, the annoying garment had got stuck in the mangle and needed a strong arm to pull them down and out.  

 

@Wayfarer

Edited by Javia (see edit history)

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Clara was not happy with being confused for Jacob's older sister, older indeed! She was actually younger than the boy.

 

"Just another pal of Arabella’s” explained Jacob.

 

Clara frowned, was he not going to even introduce her? Apparently not as the conversation took a new turn with a familiar voice bellowing from another room.

 

“Hey! Is that Hayseed?!!” the speaker yelled, oh yes, Clara knew that was indeed Arabella, “Get in here, stranger, I need a hand pullin’ down ma bloomers!”

 

Matilda pinched the top of her nose between two fingers, "Oh god."

 

"Go talk to her. I'm sure it's not what it sounds like," actually Matilda wasn't completely sure! But she had other things to do.

 

Jacob certainly knew the way into the kitchen, the lad had dropped produce in there more than once. So the two of them then entered the kitchen, Clara half wondering just what Arabella was doing this time? Jacob took the lead but Clara was on the alert right off behind his right side.

 

"Hello, Arabella," she left it at that.

 

 

 

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As Jacob and Clara entered the small and steamy laundry room Arabella was practically dangling off the legs of the pantalettes trying to pull them out of the mangle. That thing had never been the same since she’d tried to put one of Mammy Cookie’s corsets through it.

 

“Howdy Reb.” Proffered Jacob in greeting, relieved they’d lost the scary in-charge lady. Arabella didn’t flinch as she yelped “Gimmi a hand here, y’lunk!” But Clara’s voice made her let go of the bloomers with a yelp and spin round, positioning herself in front of the offending articles of underwear. It was odd that she didn’t mind Lutz seeing how shabby, patched and, frankly stained, her underthings were, but the thought of the wonderful Clara Anne Redmond seeing these awful exhibits? Lord no!

 

“Hello, Arabella,” she left it at that.

 

“Clara!” exclaimed Arabella, wide eyed in shock. She pointed dumbly at the tiled floor “In my laundry room!”

 

“Never mind her” Jacob hissed urgently “Where the heck can we get hold of that Father-Reverend-Pastor Reed feller, we need to see him!”

 

Arabella rolled her eyes. “Oh, Brother Thomas! is that all? That’s easy, he’s in his Love Shack Mr Ryker built him at the back of the church. It ain’t love like hearts and flowers, it’s like the love that Jesus Christ Our Saviour has for all of us, even Mrs Devereau. Course it’s only me what calls it that and…”

 

Suddenly the penny dropped. Arabella looked at Clara, then at Jacob, then back at Clara and her eyes narrowed and she pointed at Clara’s stomach and mouthed the words ARE YOU PREGNANT?

 

The reply was irrelevant. Arabella had already put one and one together and gotten three, which, in this case, was the correct answer.

 

@Wayfarer

Edited by Javia (see edit history)
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How did she manage to get caught up like that? Honestly, that girl never failed to confuse Clara it certainly seemed anyhow. The girl was ordering Jacob to help her. Only then did she seem to notice Clara was standing there too.

 

“Clara!” exclaimed Arabella, wide eyed in shock. She pointed dumbly at the tiled floor “In my laundry room!” 

 

"To be more specific, I believe it is the saloon owner's laundry room," Clara calmly pointed out. No need to ask Arabella how she got in that predicament, it was Arabella, there was your answer.

 

Jacob annoyed her now, "Never mind her! Where the heck can we get hold of that Father-Reverend-Pastor Reed feller, we need to see him!”  

 

Well, husband to be, way to be nonchalant about it, Clara sighed. The girl did know and started telling them far more than just the needed specific location, something about a Love Shack? Only she did not finish. The look on her face changed too.

 

Arabella looked at Clara, then at Jacob, then back at Clara and her eyes narrowed and she pointed at Clara’s stomach and mouthed the words ARE YOU PREGNANT?

 

Clara let out a breath, denying it now would only bring out a torrent of questions and insistent declarations she was in the right. Clara was tiring of all these denials anyhow. She nodded very slowly then added.

 

"And keep quiet about it. I am asking you as a friend, Arabella. Please."

 

 

 

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Arabella looked at Clara, then at Jacob, then back at Clara and her eyes narrowed and she pointed at Clara’s stomach and mouthed the words ARE YOU PREGNANT?

 

Clara let out a breath, denying it now would only bring out a torrent of questions and insistent declarations she was in the right. Clara was tiring of all these denials anyhow. She nodded very slowly then added.

 

"And keep quiet about it. I am asking you as a friend, Arabella. Please."

 

Arabella’s mouth was so wide open you could see her tonsils and she went so lightheaded that she had to steady herself on the mangle. She had wondered, after that odd interlude in the vestry when she’d burst in on the two of them and instead of kissing and slobbering over each other, they’d been having a very, very serious talk indeed, but this confirmation rocked her world. It was a shock, to be sure, but she felt immensely privileged to be in on the secret – a secret which despite Clara’s misgivings, wild horses could not have dragged from her.

 

She turned to Jacob and gave him an eloquent look which said 'Oh, well done, you idiot!' and then tiptoed toward Clara, taking her request to keep quiet very literally, and whispered “Can I feel her?” She had already decided that the baby would be a girl.

 

The urgent need to find the Reverend Reed clunked into place like a jigsaw piece and begged another question. She looked at Jacob and then back to Clara. “I'll take you to Brother Thomas right now, but... do you need any money?” she whispered, biting her lip in shared angst about what clandestine ceremony needed now to be undertaken.

 

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Arabella seemed to be deep in thought regarding her request, Clara noted but slowly moved forward looking very solemn (plus she wasn't chattering away for once!). Stopping short Arabella then had a request of her own.

 

“Can I feel her?”  and said in a whisper too not her usual high volume.

 

"There is nothing to feel yet, it is far too early," Clara softly explained, "And we cannot be certain it will be a girl either. Or is that what you are hoping for?"

 

Honestly she had not really spent much time thinking about it, she would be happy with either as long as the baby was healthy.

 

She looked at Jacob and then back to Clara.

 

“I'll take you to Brother Thomas right now, but... do you need any money?” she whispered.

 

"No, I mean Jacob has some but the marriage should not cost us anything other than perhaps a dinner for the minister. We just need you to help us find the man for now, Arabella. One thing at a time," Clara was really a bundle of nerves but trying very hard to keep calm and focused.

 

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“Can I feel her?”  and said in a whisper too not her usual high volume.

 

"There is nothing to feel yet, it is far too early," Clara softly explained, "And we cannot be certain it will be a girl either. Or is that what you are hoping for?"

 

Arabella didn’t answer. She just put out her hand, ever so slowly, and lightly touched Clara’s still relatively flat looking tummy. She looked up with shining eyes from the sacred spot from whence new life miraculously sprang and gave Clara a small but encouraging smile.

 

She looked at Jacob and then back to Clara. 

 

“I'll take you to Brother Thomas right now, but... do you need any money?” she whispered.

 

"No, I mean Jacob has some but the marriage should not cost us anything other than perhaps a dinner for the minister. We just need you to help us find the man for now, Arabella. One thing at a time," Clara was really a bundle of nerves but trying very hard to keep calm and focused.

 

Arabella nodded and started to sneak to the door of the laundry room and looked about outside. “Come on!” she beckoned the other two to follow her. It wasn’t clear why all this cloak and dagger stuff was needed inside the Saloon, but once they had snuck though the kitchen, grabbing her bonnet and shawl on the way, and made it outside, Arabella started to act a bit more normally. Well, normal for her.

 

She led them a strange route to the Church which brought them to the back of the building where a peculiar sort of shanty had been constructed with no little skill, it had to be said, but peculiar all the same. At the door of this ‘Hermitage’ Arabella, who had been strangely silent and uninquisitive during their tramp, gave three stentorian knocks on the door and whispered at the crack “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” It was her own idea, the knocks and the codes, so that the tall Patriarch form the Desert would know it was his own little helpmeet who was asking for an audience.

 

She listened at the crack in the door, awaiting The Word to Come Forward.

 

@boshmi @Wayfarer

Edited by Javia (see edit history)
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Thomas had spent the past hour or so surrounded by the sulfuric smell of gun oil, his shotgun lying disassembled on a little wooden bench behind him. Though he had no need for self-defense or hunting these days, a prudent regimen of care was good for the soul, and of course, good for the equipment.

 

His newly-constructed abode, for it's part, served the purpose well; pot-belly stove, cot, and bench being all the spartan requirements he needed. Having a room to himself was good, for more than a few reasons. The few nights spent in the saloon with Arabella as a primary source of company had been a little trying, to say the least, and with Mr. Ryker's kind offer of help, producing a structure that was both comfortable and convenient had been fairly simple. Planks of wood were certainly more homely than the open forest and musky smell of horse.

 

He whistled a little song as he worked, tune to The Unquiet Grave punctuating the scratching of a ramrod against metal, and so engrossed was the priest in his task that he hardly noticed the silhouetted figures through the curtained window until there was an all-too familiar knock at the door. That Arabella had turned out to be quite the reverent saloon girl, spending enough time playing that harmonium that she'd up and established a secret code for her comings and goings.

 

“A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” came the whisper at the door, and Thomas set down the bore of the weapon with a sigh, before sweeping it's deconstructed pieces to the side. Martin Luther's retelling of Psalm 46 was a bizarre choice, but arguing with Arabella would no doubt have been a pointless affair.

 

He stood and crossed to the door, mumbling a 'come forward' to indulge her, before opening it to not one, but three teenagers.

"Hello Arabella. Who've you brought with you?" he asked, as he gave a welcoming smile to the other two, though already he was wondering what antics the rest of the afternoon held in store.

@Javia@Wayfarer

Edited by boshmi (see edit history)
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Clara stood behind Arabella as she approached a freshly built shack...well, it was nicer than a shack but it was certainly not up to the standards of a residence in her opinion. So the new clergyman was living in this place? They had not even thought to go around to the back of the church when the couple had first searched for the man. Still, what he did or how he chose to live was none of her business, as long as he married people.  Her mind was racing even now as the trio stood there waiting for some sort of response to Arabella's rather over complicated attempt at getting the attention of whoever was inside.

 

The door suddenly opened and a white haired old man greeted them as Clara straightened her posture and tensed up for this crucial conference of sorts.

 

"Hello Arabella. Who've you brought with you?" he asked, as he gave a welcoming smile to the other two.

 

Clara, at the best of times, was not much of a smiler and was now far too nervous to attempt it now. However she was determined to do the introductions rather than depend on Arabella to do them as that would be a meandering possibly incoherent rigamarole before she ever got to actual names.

 

"Good day, Reverend. I hope we did not catch you at an inconvenient time? I am Clara Redmond, daughter of Aurelian Redmond. We are regular attendees at Sunday services. And this is Jacob Lutz, he too is a member of the congregation," she spoke quickly before Arabella could get a word in edgewise, no mean  feat, that!

Clarawithhat.jpg

 

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"Good day, Reverend. I hope we did not catch you at an inconvenient time? I am Clara Redmond, daughter of Aurelian Redmond. We are regular attendees at Sunday services. And this is Jacob Lutz, he too is a member of the congregation," she spoke quickly before Arabella could get a word in edgewise, no mean feat, that!

 

Weirdly, instead of yapping incessantly, Arabella silently nodded at Jacob, as if prompting him to speak, like she fancied herself the major-domo of some great Priest King of the Old Testament, silently ushering others into the potentate’s presence.

 

“Er, that’s right, Sir!” Jacob nodded, gripping his hat which he had removed, of course, as soon as he entered the strange hermitage. Arabella nodded at him urgently, as if to say go on! And Jacob continued. “We were wondering if you would marry us… we want to get wed.” he announced, a little tautologously.

 

“They are both very good people, Brother Thomas!” Arabella confided to the white bearded holy man in a sort of hushed whisper. Well, apart from all the premarital sex, of course, but she didn’t mention that. God knew, that was enough.

 

@boshmi @Wayfarer

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"Good day, Reverend. I hope we did not catch you at an inconvenient time? I am Clara Redmond, daughter of Aurelian Redmond. We are regular attendees at Sunday services. And this is Jacob Lutz, he too is a member of the congregation."

 

“Er, that’s right, Sir! We were wondering if you would marry us… we want to get wed.”

 

Well, wasn't this a surprise? A matrimonial union! It had certainly been a while since he'd conducted one, but such a joyous occasion would be good for the town. At such a young age, he could only assume it was one of love, which was the best kind of marriage. Unless, of course...

 

"Why, I can't say why I shouldn't." Thomas said, beaming. "I'd invite you in to discuss matters but, well, I'm afraid it's a little pokey in there. The church should be empty this time of day, if you'd like somewhere to sit?" he offered. "I could fix something to drink? Tea perhaps?"

 

Marriage was an elaborate and mostly-quite-subjective affair, dependent on the intentions of the couple - and at this age - their guardians. Deciding what exactly they wanted to happen could take all day, though of course, he'd probably need to visit the parents Lutz & Redmond at some stage.

@Javia@Wayfarer

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“Er, that’s right, Sir! We were wondering if you would marry us… we want to get wed.”

 

Clara blinked. Gosh, Jacob moved fast. She was going to ease into it but there it was now. She settled for a quick nod of agreement and waited, heart beating rapidly, for the clergyman's answer.

 

"Why, I can't say why I shouldn't." Thomas said, beaming. "I'd invite you in to discuss matters but, well, I'm afraid it's a little pokey in there. The church should be empty this time of day, if you'd like somewhere to sit?"

 

"Oh, well certainly. If you would rather talk there. Anyplace is fine with us," Clara would have agreed to discuss it even if he had suggested the middle of a river. She just wanted to get it done!

 

The man then offered, "I could fix something to drink? Tea perhaps?" 

 

"No thank you, we do not wish you to have to make a fuss on our account," she gently shook her head in the negative.

 

 

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"Oh, well certainly. If you would rather talk there. Anyplace is fine with us," Clara would have agreed to discuss it even if he had suggested the middle of a river. She just wanted to get it done!

 

The four of them shuffled back to the rear of the church and through the little-used back door, into the main part of the building where the pews were neatly rowed and the pulpit stood empty at the far end.

 

The man then offered, "I could fix something to drink? Tea perhaps?" 

 

"No thank you, we do not wish you to have to make a fuss on our account," she gently shook her head in the negative.

 

“Ooh, It’s no fuss Clara! I’ll fix that, Brother.” Arabella gushed obsequiously “You three will want to talk privately.”

 

She would also, perhaps a little too optimistically at this point, fetch out a blank marriage certificate, for she knew where Pastor Evans stored them. In fact, she’d had a good root through most of the drawers and cupboards in his little office, off the vestry, and found some amazing and interesting stuff. Her favourites were a collection of pictures in a little book which, she assumed, the good Pastor must have confiscated off some sinful parishioner in the past.

 

@boshmi @Wayfarer

Edited by Javia (see edit history)

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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.

Connect With Us On

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If you would like to join the Sagas' Discord server or are already a member, click the image to open the Discord web application.

Site Credits

Founders: Stormwolfe & Longshot

Sagas' Rating

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