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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

Edit History

Javia

Javia

Convention dictated that a lady receive a gentleman seated: but Frances stood and thrust out a hand in the direction of the softly spoken 'hello' : she relied as much on the feel of a hand as the tenor of a voice, when it came to getting to know a new person: especially important in one who might figure large in her life as she tried to settle her late brother's tangled affairs. 

 

To the softly spoken man, out there in the darkness somewhere, she said exactly the same thing that she had said to the Marshall: "Please take my hand, I can't see yours." 

 

She always said that. It was an invitation to come in: come in to her world of touch, smell and sound, and it disposed of the elephant in the room that people often skirted in the most elaborate of ways to avoid mentioning: her blindness.

 

When James took her hand, she clasped it with the other, too: and felt. It was soft, yes, this man worked with his mind, not his hands and he was diffident in his manner: but his hands were dry and with an underlying strength that perhaps he himself did not realise he possessed, she fancied.

 

"I am hopeful that you will be of great help to me, Mr Vaughn. I have just been informed by the Marshall that my brother has been killed. I wish to employ your legal talents in tidying up his affairs..." a mundane if messy task, in Frank Grimes' case. But the next part was not so straightforward "... and investigate whether I cannot prosecute the killer for damages."

 

The Marshall had declared that it was a pure case of self defence, but she had come across this live-and-let-live complicity between the law and more well to do miscreants in new York, Denver City and Portland: everywhere she had lived. She did not expect Kalispell to be any different.

 

@Flip @Nova

 

 

Javia

Javia

Convention dictated that a lady receive a gentleman seated: but Frances stood and thrust out a hand in the direction of the softly spoken 'hello' : she relied as much on the feel of a hand as the tenor of a voice, when it came to getting to know a new person: especially important in one who might figure large in her life as she tried to settle her late brother's tangled affairs. 

 

To the softly spoken man, out there in the darkness somewhere, she said exactly the same thing that she had said to the Marshall: "Please take my hand, I can't see yours." 

 

She always said that. It was an invitation to come in: come in to her world of touch, smell and sound, and it disposed of the elephant in the room that people often skirted in the most elaborate of ways to avoid mentioning: her blindness.

 

When James took her hand, she clasped it with the other, too: and felt. It was soft, yes, this man worked with his mind, not his hands and he was diffident in his manner: but his hands were dry and with an underlying strength that perhaps he himself did not realise he possessed, she fancied.

 

"I am hopeful that you will be of great help to me, Mr Vaughn. I have just been informed by the Marshall that my brother has been killed. I wish to employ your legal talents in tidying up his affairs..." a mundane if messy task, in Frank Grimes' case. But the next part was not so straightforward "... and investigate whether I cannot prosecute the killer for damages."

 

The Marshall had declared that it was self defence, but she had come across this live-and-let-live complicity between the law and more well to do miscreants in new York, Denver City and Portland: everywhere she had lived. She did not expect Kalispell to be any different.

 

@Flip @Nova

 

 

Javia

Javia

Convention dictated that a lady receive a gentleman seated: but Frances stood and thrust out a hand in the direction of the softly spoken 'hello' : she relied as much on the feel of a hand as the tenor of a voice, when it came to getting to know a new person: especially important in one who might figure large in her life as she tried to settle her late brother's tangled affairs. 

 

To the softly spoken man, out there in the darkness somewhere, she said exactly the same thing that she had said to the Marshall: "Please take my hand, I can't see yours." 

 

She always said that. It was an invitation to come in: come in to her world of touch, smell and sound, and it disposed of the elephant in the room that people often skirted in the most elaborate of ways to avoid mentioning: her blindness.

 

When James took her hand, she clasped it with the other, too: and felt. soft, yes, this man worked with his mind, not his hands and diffident in his manner: but dry and with an underlying strength that perhaps he himself did not realise he possessed, she fancied.

 

"I am hopeful that you will be of great help to me, Mr Vaughn. I have just been informed by the Marshall that my brother has been killed. I wish to employ your legal talents in tidying up his affairs..." a mundane if messy task, in Frank Grimes' case. But the next part was not so straightforward "... and investigate whether I cannot prosecute the killer for damages."

 

The Marshall had declared that it was self defence, but she had come across this live-and-let-live complicity between the law and more well to do miscreants in new York, Denver City and Portland: everywhere she had lived. She did not expect Kalispell to be any different.

 

@Flip @Nova

 

 

Frances Grimes

Frances Grimes

Convention dictated that a lady receive a gentleman seated: but Frances stood and thrust out a hand in the direction of the softly spoken 'hello' : she relied as much on the feel of a hand as the tenor of a voice, when it came to getting to know a new person: especially important in one who might figure large in her life as she tried to settle her late brother's tangled affairs. 

 

The the softly spoken man out there in the darkness somewhere, she said exactly the same thing that she had said to the Marshall: "Please take my hand, I can't see yours." 

 

She always said that. It was an invitation to come in: come in to her world of touch, smell and sound, and it disposed of the elephant in the room that people often skirted in the most elaborate of ways to avoid mentioning: her blindness.

 

When James took her hand, she clasped it with the other, too: and felt. soft, yes, this man worked with his mind, not his hands and diffident in his manner: but dry and with an underlying strength that perhaps he himself did not realise he possessed, she fancied.

 

"I am hopeful that you will be of great help to me, Mr Vaughn. I have just been informed by the Marshall that my brother has been killed. I wish to employ your legal talents in tidying up his affairs..." a mundane if messy task, in Frank Grimes' case. But the next part was not so straightforward "... and investigate whether I cannot prosecute the killer for damages."

 

The Marshall had declared that it was self defence, but she had come across this live-and-let-live complicity between the law and more well to do miscreants in new York, Denver City and Portland: everywhere she had lived. She did not expect Kalispell to be any different.

 

@Flip @Nova

 

 

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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Founders: Stormwolfe & Longshot

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