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    • James smiled back, forgetting again that she could not see it.  Truthfully he would be hard pressed to stop himself from doing such things even in her presence but for those who had sight, they would struggle to imagine how she lived as well as she did without it.  It was as ingrained in him as it was for her doing without.  Because he’d been raised at all-male boarding schools, the young British man had very limited experience with the fairer sex, this was simply a fact, one that James had no trouble acknowledging.   When she joked with the Marshall regarding being weighed down with metal coins, James chuckled at her jest, stopping suddenly as something occurred to him.  “I say!”  He exclaimed, then rushed on, “Have you ever given thought to folding each kind of bill in a different way so that you can tell which is which?”  He caught his breath then, waiting to see what she or the Marshall thought of his latest idea.  If she needed his assistance in the folding, he'd be happy to help her.   As she suspected, James was obvious to the fact that she was gently flirting with him, taking everything at face value, his inexperience with the fairer sex once again rearing it’s head.  He caught something of the heat that colored her cheeks, and the errant thought passed through his mind that she might be falling ill.  Not uncommon so soon after the passing of a loved one.
    • He tried to make it sound important enough that she should be interested in local politics but really what good did being interested do her? She could not change anything. She could not vote so to hell with it. The people she lived with, worked with were what was important to her. But she wasn't going to argue with him about it.   "Sure, I reckon," Caroline shrugged.   Then handsome young soldier...correction, officer now launched into a nice long tale of his family roots. It was fascinating really he knew all that much about his family history and those who came before. She didn't know a damn thing about such things in her own life. She was pretty damn sure the woman she called Ma had been the one to give birth to her but she was not positive. And there was even more doubt about her father or step father. No matter, they had been a family and stuck together til two out of three died. So now it was just her. Well, her and her saloon family.   "Interestin'," she nodded, enjoying the way he told the story as much as the actual story.   "So you see, in a hundred years time... the president of the United States will be tracing his roots back to a beautiful saloon singer in old Kalispell and a tramp in the street'll be vaguely aware that he is descended from the once great Greenes of Vermont." He shrugged. "Who cares, rich man, poor man, beggar man thief." he looked into the depths of her blue eyes "... or lady, baby, gypsy, queen."   "Not gonna happen that way. I'm never gonna get married and I ain't gonna have any children so no one is descendin' from me, hon. But I liked yer tellin' of it," she liked him, this dinner date had turned out better than she had figured it would.          
    • "Ah yeah, the mayor's election. Why should I care who wins? I can't even vote in it, "Caroline waved it off. Oh she would clap for and cheer on Mr. Priest whom her boss was pushing to win but she personally did not give a damn.   Greene shrugged. "Maybe not, but the person who's elected could make your life a lot better or a whole lot worse. You ever hear of a abomination that goes by the name of a 'dry county'? The poor b... er, denizens of a place like that probably didn't realise until too late what they were voting in." he laughed, although it was no laughing matter: reformers and prohibitionists were even in these early decades starting to make their voices heard.    He then mentioned being interested in listening to her and Ara perform.   "Please do. I don't want to sound like I'm braggin' but most folks say I've got a real nice singing voice. I admit my dancing is not that special but I just show them a little leg.......or more than a little...and they clap alright," she informed him.   "I can imagine!" he smiled. But it was a nice smile. A friendly smile. Not the sort of lascivious smile that indicated that he already had been imagining... frequently.    They talked of the famous Dance.   "Yeah, must have been before I arrived in town. No local dances for me yet...besides I got a feelin' my sort would not be welcomed at any such town affair. Those things are for proper folks."   Greene frowned. He didn't like to think of this beautiful woman being denigrated in any way: though he was not unaware of the snobby often hypocritical attitude of those who felt them selves a cut above the type of folks who worked in certain professions, including soldiers - at least the non-commissioned kind. Sometimes with good reason, often times not.   "You know, one of my aunts once had our family tree drawn up, just like the noble families of Europe. The fellow who did it even drew it like a tree, leaves, and apples, and all. We're real Vermont blue-bloods, you see, despite the green name. Aunt Mary-Anne expected our forefathers to have come across on the Mayflower, or with Captain Smith to Jamestown."   He smiled happily at the memory of it.   "Imagine her delight when the feller delivered our family tree and revealed that the first Greene to set foot on American soil was an indentured servant, a virtual slave, who'd been transported here for, get this, stealing apples from some rich lord's orchard!"    He enjoyed the memory of his snobby aunt's discomfort for a moment then returned to the present.   "So you see, in a hundred years time... the president of the United States will be tracing his roots back to a beautiful saloon singer in old Kalispell and a tramp in the street'll be vaguely aware that he is descended from the once great Greenes of Vermont." He shrugged. "Who cares, rich man, poor man, beggar man thief." he looked into the depths of her blue eyes "... or lady, baby, gypsy, queen."   @Wayfarer        
    • "Debate, you dumb bitch, it's called a debate," Caroline mumbled under her breath but the woman figured it out just then too.   Priest wasn't going to be rushed though. He would reveal all later was all he would promise. In that way the man was a true politician, promises a whole lot, she'd see if he actually delivered on anything. The politicians in Chicago had been crooked, the mayor of Helena had been well meaning but a bumbling fool, and the one here in Kalispell was ......well, she didn't even know who the hell that was, he was pretty much invisible. The town seemingly had been run by that one council member before he lit himself on fire.   Just then they got themselves a trio of new customers, rough looking lot but a customer was a customer. Fortner invited them to have a drink and they promptly bellied up to the bar. Of course Ralph was there, waiting to hear what they'd like.   "Three whiskies," one of the men said, after reaching into his coat and putting down some coinage.   "Sure nuff, comin' right up," Ralph nodded and reached for one of the cheap bottles, he was a pretty good judge of customers' taste and proclivities. He poured three shots of the powerful liquor.   Caroline swung into saloon girl mode too, sashaying up to the one lined up at the bar closest to her, gifting him with a bright smile, "Welcome! Have a long ride, did ya, hon?"    
    • He gazed up at the domed ceiling and was awe struck at it's beauty. He was taken aback by the obvious talent that it took to create such a beautiful thing. "Dang near as pretty as you, Em." was his comment. "Took 'em a while to get that done. Never seen the like."   And that was a fact. There had been nothing that he had seen before to compare to the glass domed ceiling, nothing. He suddenly felt out of place, something odd for him to feel, at any time, in any place, but it struck him here in this place. The sheer beauty of it touched him. What man could accomplish given the opportunity   "Now 'at's somethin'. Best we see what other marvels they got in this place. May not have time ta see everything." He pointed out. @Bongo
Nellie Miggins

The Odd Couple

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Mature Content: ? [Have you seen Harold & Maude?]

With:  Virgil Adams
Location:  In the bush
When:  Late July 1876
Time of Day: 11.48am

 

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The hard earth trail that led from the ruined ghost town of Whitefish to Kalispell was starting to get overgrown these days, to sink back into the landscape. And nowhere was this more apparent than in the section of tangled wildwood where Granny Miggins' pony and trap had come to a grinding halt. 

 

"What in Tarnation's wrong now?!" she growled as she stood up on the footrest of the box seat to peer over Neddy's twitching ears: the woman was so tiny. Many, many years ago, decades ago, she had reached the towering height of five feet and three inches: but she had shrunk a deal since then. 

 

An enormous old tree that had survived this world even longer than the gnarled woman, had even managed to stand up against the howling unprecedented gales of last winter, had suddenly decided to up and die, to topple helplessly over, rotted to its ancient core, and lie, a lifeless mass of timber, across the road.

 

There was, perhaps, a poignant symmetry between the great, withered Ponderosa Pine, and the tough septuagenarian woman: both had seen the seasons pass; the nation grow and see off British and Mexican armies and Indian Tribes, only to finally pit itself against itself, brother ag'in brother. They had both seen all of that pass. A poet, had he been there, might have found something moving to say about the woman's wrinkled face and the flaky, rutted bark of the dead tree. 

 

Nellie Miggins had her own comment on the situation.

 

"Ohhhh Shit!!"

 

She started to clamber down from the trap but something made her pause. Not even a noise. Not even a rustle in the bushes. Just a tingle up her spine, a tremor of the hair that grew out of the wart on the back of her neck....

she reached slowly... ever so slowly.... for the double-barrelled shotgun propped up on the seat beside her...

 

@Nox

Edited by Javia (see edit history)

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“You sure you wanna do that,” Virgil warned from behind the little cart. Ironically, he hadn’t meant to sneak up on the old woman, after living a few years out in the woods, hunting daily, he moved quietly without thinking about it now. “You’ll end up with a passel more problems than just a tree in the road.”

 

No one who truly lived off the land was fat, it took too much work, but it was late July and Virgil had filled up from his scrawny, half-starved look of winter. Scruffy and unwashed, he warily watched the old woman; she wouldn’t have been the first person to greet him with buckshot and he was set to duck behind her cart, just in case.

@Javia

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“You sure you wanna do that,” Virgil warned from behind the little cart. Ironically, he hadn’t meant to sneak up on the old woman, after living a few years out in the woods, hunting daily, he moved quietly without thinking about it now. You’ll end up with a passel more problems than just a tree in the road.”

 

Bushwhacked, by crikey! You must be gettin' old, Nellie girl she told herself. She narrowed her eyes and scanned the woods and scrub in front of her; no sign of any confederates there; must just be this one feller, but he probably had a rifle levelled straight at her white haired head. She turned slowly with her hands a little in the air, but not too high: after all, she might still have a chance to snatch for the shotgun and part this varmint's hair for him.

 

"Oh please Mister, don't go hurting a poor little old lady..." she started to plead in a sickly sweet voice. "What would your own poor mother think if she knew you was goin' around..."

 

She blinked. He hadn't even got a gun! 

 

But a split second later she did, and it was pointing in his direction. 

 

"Stick 'em up ya damn blasted bum!" she snarled, cocking the hammer on one of her barrels. "Hold me up without a gun would ya?! I'll teach you, ya egg-sucking hound dog! ya... hey, where'd you go?!" she barked: for the dirty looking scamp had disappeared without a trace! Where was he? Behind a tree? Under the wagon? He'd disappeared like a ghost. 

 

"Come out, ya slippery little bastard!" she ordered, but reply there came not any. 

 

The birds twittered, and a breeze wafted through the leaves of the trees above, but of the elflike youth there was no sound.

 

@Nox

 

 

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Virgil’s eyes went wide when the dark holes of the shotgun barrel was suddenly pointed at him. The old woman’s hair-trigger finger lit a fire in him and he dove for cover under the cart. He heard her shuffling this way and that as she cursed a blue streak looking for him. “…egg-sucking hound dog… slippery little bastard…”

 

He scrambled under the trap and in a move that owed everything to the litheness of youth, he vaulted up to the seat beside her and snatched the gun from her hands. To be fair, she’d gotten that part right, he was a slippery little bastard. “What in tarnation do you think you’re doing, you crazy old bat?” he yelled. He held the gun by the barrel, and stretched out his arm, keeping it out of her reach.

 

“You ain’t got no call to point that cannon at me, ya old coot!”

@Javia

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He scrambled under the trap and in a move that owed everything to the litheness of youth, he vaulted up to the seat beside her and snatched the gun from her hands. To be fair, she’d gotten that part right, he was a slippery little bastard. “What in tarnation do you think you’re doing, you crazy old bat?” he yelled. He held the gun by the barrel, and stretched out his arm, keeping it out of her reach.

 

"Who you callin' crazy?!" she spat back, reaching for the gun that the young man kept safe away from her talon-like grasp. "Dammit, I must be gettin' old. Last time a feller surprised me from behind like that was back in '15 and I ended up havin' to marry the big galoot!" she cried. 

 

"Why ya bein' so mean an' nasty to a sweet old lady anyway, Slim? What'd I ever do to you?" she asked plaintively, hoping to lull him into letting her get close enough to either grab the gun back, or at the very least, push him off the wagon: with any luck he'd break his neck!


“You ain’t got no call to point that cannon at me, ya old coot!”

 

"Ain't I?" she countered gamely "You're a bushwhacker ain't ya?! And didn't even have the decency to bring your own shootin' irons along to the party!"

 

"Well, I guess you'd better get on robbin' me or ravishin' me or whatever you've got planned. I ain't got all day, sonny. Gotta get this here trap round that there tree what you pushed over!" she declared. 

Edited by Javia (see edit history)
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Virgil narrowed his eyes at the old woman as she tried to throw the mess back on him. He was working up a good head of steam to shoot back at her, but that all died away when she ranted about wanting to be ravished. What had he gotten himself into? He just knew he was face to face with an elderly sex-fiend. Her crack about being married to some galoot came back to him; she’d probably left a trail of a dozen husbands who ended up on the wrong side of the dirt after marrying her. Those poor men, Virgil thought as his face went pale.

 

Living on his own in the woods, Virgil hadn’t given his appearance or his clothes much thought; he was suddenly too conscious of his shirt, worn and thin and missing a few buttons down the front. Still keeping the gun away from her grasp, Virgil’s free hand closed the front of his shirt and kept it closed in case the sex-fiend started having ideas.

 

“I didn’t do nothing to that tree but I’ll help you get this buggy around it, for a ride into town. But,” he added narrowing his eyes at her, “you gotta keep your hands to yourself. I ain’t gonna be one of your husbands; you got that?”

 

@Javia

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“I didn’t do nothing to that tree but I’ll help you get this buggy around it, for a ride into town."

 

"Deal!" snapped back the old lady. "Except we'll stop at my place on the way and tidy you up a little. I ain't bein' seen ridin' into town with a dirty smelly tramp!" She'd give him a square meal, too, the poor lad looked half starved, but he also looked like he had enough pride about him not to accept charity, so she didn't mention that right now. 

 

But,” he added narrowing his eyes at her, “you gotta keep your hands to yourself. I ain’t gonna be one of your husbands; you got that?”

 

Nellie gave him a querying look. "You should be so lucky!" she frowned. They might have gotten off to a shaky start, but she liked the boy, somehow: not just because he was handsome or because he reminded her of her boy what died a long, long time ago. She just had a feeling about him. 

 

"Might have to strip you off and give you a bath mind! Phew, are you ripe!" she chided playfully, though she never cracked a smile. 

 

Getting the trap through the trees at the side of the fallen stump was not actually too much of a problem with the two them working on it, and Mrs Miggins noticed that the young man was not only deceptively strong for his slight figure, but extraordinarily good with Neddy who, to be honest, was not so much a mare as a nightmare, when it came to getting her to do anything off of the beaten track. 

 

Soon they were on their way and nearing the sturdy and large Miggins place, which was not too far off the direct route to Kalispell. The land around was rich in crops and well fenced off from the wandering cattle from the ranches that ruined and trampled corn if not kept out. It was a nice spread all right, and Granny couldn't help saying to the slim lad beside her on the box seat "Having second thoughts about becoming the next Mr. Miggins?"

 

@Nox

Edited by Javia (see edit history)
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"Might have to strip you off and give you a bath mind! Phew, are you ripe!"  She said and frowned, her nose wrinkling.

 

Virgil snorted, “Be glad your nose still works at all, I heard things don’t work right anymore after someone’s older than dirt.”He had to say something back, but when her back was turned, he looked down at himself and had to admit he looked rough, and to be fair, probably smelled it too.  It wouldn’t hurt to get cleaned up a bit, he supposed.

 

They rode most of the way in silence until they came to a large farmstead and Nellie said, "Having second thoughts about becoming the next Mr. Miggins?"

 

“Wouldn’t that be you bein’ missus Adams?” But he knew what she meant. It was a nice spread. He took a moment to take it all in. “I think there’re too many fences. The land is better when it ain’t fenced off.” He said, then shrugged as if to say ‘I don’t like to be fenced in,’ and he jumped down.

 

“You take care of this place by yourself?” he asked.

 

@Javia

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Virgil snorted, “Be glad your nose still works at all, I heard things don’t work right anymore after someone’s older than dirt.” He had to say something back, but when her back was turned, he looked down at himself and had to admit he looked rough, and to be fair, probably smelled it too.  It wouldn’t hurt to get cleaned up a bit, he supposed.

 

"Well, you won't live long enough to find out fer yerself if you keep on cheekin' your elders like that!" snapped back Granny, who was enjoying the slightly flirtatious undercurrent of their little spat on the road.


They rode most of the way in silence until they came to a large farmstead and Nellie said, "Having second thoughts about becoming the next Mr. Miggins?"


“Wouldn’t that be you bein’ missus Adams?” But he knew what she meant.

 

"What, you askin'?!" she pretended to misunderstand "Wait till you kin aford a ring and got room to git down on one knee 'fore you asks me that!" she cackled, before pulling up the horse with a "Whoooaaaa, Neddy!". 

 

It was a nice spread. He took a moment to take it all in. “I think there’re too many fences. The land is better when it ain’t fenced off.” He said, then shrugged as if to say ‘I don’t like to be fenced in,’ and he jumped down.

 

"Huh, wait 'til you've had a herd o' cattle stomp all over your corn and barley before you say that!" she admonished him, and sounded more serious this time. "I prefer the open prairie, too. But a family's gotta eat. 'Member that!" Family? That seemed to lead Virgil to his next question.

 

“You take care of this place by yourself?” he asked.

 

"I might as well, all the help I get! If you see an old darkie paradin' around hereabouts, lookin' like he owns the place and not workin' a lick - that's our Tom, hired hand. And my granddaughter's at home, too, but she can't work, on account of her weak heart. And my no good Grandson, Jacob, he went and got hitched a month or two ago and now he's tearin' round the country workin' fer Western Union instead of coming home once in a while to help his poor sweet old grandmother, the selfish little bastard!"

 

@Nox 

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.

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