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    • "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 
    • "Oh..."  Emeline gasped as the girl dropped her package, and started to bend down to get it, but then hesitated, wondering if perhaps she even wanted help, or might feel insulted at the offer, that it would imply that she couldn't do for herself.   "It's just to your right.  Would you like some help?"  There!  An offer, but Frances' choice.   @Javia        
    • 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    
    • "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
    • "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
Arabella Mudd

Solitaire is most certainly NOT the Only Game in Town

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"Seems I need to stick around a spell and hear you warble.  I bet you'd outshine any of the nightingales prancing around on stage anywhere in this territory," Mr. Priest seemed to be warming to her charm, Caroline was pleased to note.

 

"Everyone sez I got a great voice, just sayin' and I do some dancing up on that stage but to be honest think the menfolk like when I show'em some leg more so than my actual dancing," she shrugged.

 

"You want another round, hon? I could use one, all this chatting makes my mouth dry."

 

Mr. Priest reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a shiny silver dollar and slapped it on the table next to Caroline.  "I suspect that'll cover one for me and one for you too, and maybe one for our sarsaparilla girl."

 

Caroline swept it up with a Cheshire Cat grin, "That it will, hon, that it will. Thank ya kindly. I'll go get those then."

 

Bout then Arabella paused in her playing just as another customer entered the place, glancing his way Caroline had to admit she hadn't seen that jasper before either. A day for strangers it seemed but hey, customers were customers.

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Ralph noticed the new arrival of course from his position behind the bar, the man practically lived behind that bar. But then he was used to it. He'd been a soldier once, during the war, and a damned good one but bartending was his career since and he was quite suited to it.  The newcomer paced up to the bar then as Ralph nodded acknowledgement.

 

 "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."

 

Of course a customer could get a whole bottle of the rotgut kind for a little more than that.

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"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!]

Edited by Javia (see edit history)

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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?"

 

"Sure.  That's what I meant," said Fortner with a smile.

 

He poured a shotglass up to the brim, "Price comes dear though, that'll be a dollar."

 

Frank kept his eyes on Ralph, and kept the smile, too, as he reached in his pocket and put a dollar on the bar.  "Thanks, friend," he said without any sarcasm.

 

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.

 

Frank didn't rattle.  Every town had a saloon, and every saloon had someone who thought they were as tough as a nickle steak.

 

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!"

 

The businessman didn't move a muscle.  Perhaps he had an ace or two up his sleeve.

 

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.

 

"Loudmouth!  Stop before I shoot you ----- in the back."

 

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.

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The man seemed amenable to the price and produced a dollar coin for the whiskey, calling Ralph 'friend' during the transaction. Ralph simply nodded as he swept up the coin up, "Yer welcome, mister."

 

That's when Grimes had to go butt in, he was one of the sort most towns and saloons seemed afflicted with, a loudmouth and troublemaker.  He was worse when he was with a few others of his ilk and Ralph barely tolerated the man because he did at least buy drinks. Caroline had an aversion to the jasper too and avoided him whenever possible and the veteran saloon girl normally was good with almost any customer.

 

But this well dressed fellow was new and apparently Grimes decided he would have some fun with the man. Ralph tensed for trouble but decided not to make the first move, just see what might happen. If Kalispell was lucky, the fellow would surprise everybody and make a swift end of Grimes, no loss to the town.  More likely though the town wouldn't be that lucky.

 

Insults came first but that didn't satisfy Grimes who suddenly went for his pistol. Ralph lowered his hands under the bartop and reached for the sawed off double barreled shotgun but turned out he did not need to.

 

"Loudmouth!  Stop before I shoot you ----- in the back."

 

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.

 

Caroline pulled away from the table as fast possible just in case there was going to be an exchange of lead, not wanting to be right next to Hiram, so she could be completely out of the line of fire and headed straight for Arabella at the piano. At the first shot she was planning on tackling the girl to the floor, never knew where bullets might fly.

 

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."

 

 

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"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

Edited by Javia (see edit history)
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Fortner spoke up.

 

"I see you have a protector," he said quietly to the lanky lout.

 

With the derringer in his right hand, he took his left and placed it on Arabella's shoulder and encouraged her to move.

 

"Step aside, little lady, I'm not going to hurt your hero, at least if he listens to good advice."

 

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."

 

That settled, Fortner calmly asked the cowpoke, "I have strange habit.  Do you have any habits?"

Edited by Preston (see edit history)
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Somehow despite Caroline's quick move, Arabella was faster and raced right into the midst of danger, that child really could be brainless sometimes Caroline thought. But frustrating or not, Caroline was fond of her and now caught up to the girl, planted between two armed men blathering as was her 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!"

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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

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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.

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