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    • Justus kept a close eye on the man as he approached, reassured by the fact that he was being allowed to approach, and that there was no sign of aggression.  He stopped a few feet away.   "Evenin', sir."  Justus nodded with an easy grin, relieved that it seemed this was a friendly bunch.  Most men on drives were, but Justus had learned young that it was best to assume the worst, then be happily surprised.   "Just what are you up too?" It was Dallas, and he was one to ask questions first, rather than just shoot a fellow. "You might oughtta ride on in like a man. There'll be plenty of grub, and you'll be welcome to it." He smiled.   "Thank ya, sir, I might do just that."  While he didn't want to seem too eager, there was no denying that he was grateful for the offer.   "You out here on yer own? Mount up an' I'll ride in with ya jest so's you don't get shot er nuthin'!" The he laughed.   "Yes, sir, I'm alone."  Swinging into the saddle, Justus patted Mule on the neck, then fell into pace beside the man.  "I do appreciate this, sir, I'll work for it, sir, help th' cookie with dishes or some'at."  A thankless job, but it wouldn't do him any harm, and he wouldn't feel so much like mooching.   "Oh, m' name's Justus Wheeler, sir.  I'm headed north, nowhere in particular."   @Flip
    • Mature Content:  Might well be violence.   With: Turk Flagg, Caroline, and who knows else Location: Star Dust Saloon When: Sept/ 1876 Time of Day: Early evening     Now Turk had never been to this part of Montana previously but  seemed like a nice enough quiet town. Actually peaceful towns were not exactly good for his sort of occupation but then he had not ridden in with any specific job in mind.  He was between jobs, just last week he'd delivered a prisoner to a small town south of Kalispell, the man had been a wanted rustler. Fellow whined the whole way back right up to jail that he was innocent. Turk then just pointed out he was neither judge nor jury, tell it to someone who cared. Least he had some cash in his pocket. And where better to spend a bit of it then in the town's only saloon apparently. Least only one he could spot.   Entering into the place thru the swinging bat doors, he took in the joint. Decent enough, he'd seen many worse, some better. On this weekday night it was not crowded but there were a few folks at the bar and some others gathered around tables, most tables holding card games. He didn't go for cards though and on those rare occasions when he had, he usually lost money. Nope, keep it simple, get a drink or two or four.   As he sidled up to the bar, the bartender was presently occupied with another customer so he paused to take a second scan of the place. And who should he see but...................   "Caroline?  Caroline Mundee," he made sure he said those words loud enough the woman could hear him as she  a good distance away, holding a tray of drinks.   Caroline not only picked up on her name but recognized the voice and turned to see just to make certain. The look on her face made it plain she knew the speaker alright as she broke out into a wide smile.   "Well, I'll be !  Gimme a minute," she called back then hurried to finish her on duty errand, duly placing the tray in front of four card players, "Here ya are, boys. Enjoy!"    Turk nodded and just leaned with his back against the bar, watching her every move. She sure was as pretty as the last time they'd seen each other. He never took his eyes off her as she then approached and in a few seconds the two embraced in a quick but heartfelt hug.   "Turk! I had heard rumors you were dead," Caroline declared when they broke it up.   "Nope, I can truly assure you that I am not. Yer lookin' fine as always," he grinned.   Caroline looked past him for a moment, "Ralph, break out one of the good bottles and pour us two shots, will ya, hon?"    "Shit! How much that gonna cost me now?"  Turk knew her routine alright, they'd become friends in Helena when she worked a saloon there.   "Nah! On the house! I'm real glad ta see you again," Caroline then leaned into the bar next to him, they had some catching up to do alright.              
    • Four good men was all he needed, and Granger knew just the men for the job. Men that would kill anyone that threatened the ranch in any way, shape, or form. Of course, that went doe any number of of the Evergreen hands, the men he wanted would be the worst, and most dangerous of the hands Elias Steelgrave employed   The first one he ran on to was the stocky built Dutch, the only name they knew him by, but that was enough. He rode up next to the man, "Dutch, Mister Steelgrave has a job for you."   Dutch looked to him, knowing if the old man wanted him for a job it wouldn't be nurse maiding no cows. "Sure Granger, what's he got in mind?"   "Might be some Lost Lake men trailing Carson, they need to be stopped." It was quick and blunt.   "Right up my alley, Granger. Start now?" Dutch asked.   "I'll Get Treach, Watts, and Deckerd. Mister Steelgrave wants you boys to be sure they start it."    "Easy as pie. If you want I'll go for 'em, know right where they are and well just head that way." Dutch offered with a grin that was far from friendly.   "Sure Dutch, go ahead. Anything happens, you hightail it back here." Granger  replied to which Dutch nodded and spurred his horse.           Dutch                                      Treach                             Watts                       Deckerd
    • The conversation with Misses Thornton-Carlton had been informative, though she had not said when these hands from the Lost Lake would be in town for supplies. In New Mexico Territory they generally went once a month, unless they were in need of something or they got word an order had come in, which was rare, the Apaches saw to that. No one was willing to take the chance . But this here might be different. The Lost Lake was not so far from town as the Lazy S was to Lordsburg, nor as dangerous.   So, the hotel looked to be the place he'd stay until these hands rode in, and it would certainly give him a chance to meet some folks, like she said, see who his allies were. And from, what he had learned so far, the trouble ran deep between the Lost Lake and this Evergreen Ranch, and then toss in the son and his pack of animals. Things could get terminal real quick. This was shaping up to be far more than he had bargained for when he left New Mexico. But he was there now, so he could run, or stay, and Tyrell Thornton was not much for running.
    • Speed took the time to let Alice and her father know where he was going, and why, then mounted up and started out for the fort. He'd not been there, he had seen it in passing, and it was a welcome sight with the Indians out. He understood that the Military had no jurisdiction in town, and likely they might not be willing to help, yet, then again, they might. Protecting citizens was their job. And just because the ones Speed was asking them to protect were in town with active lawmen, A large contingent of outlaws  posed a significant threat.   The outlaws, be it Cases' gang or Elias' riders, or both together, it would be more than a handful lawmen could handle, even with the townsfolk defending their town. True, most had served in the War Between the States, but that had been over ten years ago, and true they had fought Indians and outlaws, yet these men were settled down now and past getting into gun trouble. And maybe it wouldn't come. Maybe Neither Steelgrave wanted to tangle with the town and it's people. Yet going to talk with the Army made sense, even if they couldn't really help out right then.

Edit History

Javia

Javia

"Sorry you're takin' it all so bad," he said with a certain Grandfatherly sincerity.  "All of us show sadness in different ways.  And if you'd ever like to talk about it, maybe I can help."

 

"I'll talk about it to Jesus, thank you very much, Mr Priest. You may have heard of him." Arabella replied, feeling pretty clever at that remark. 

 

If she knew what thin ice she was skating on, she might have been a little more circumspect in her comments. But Priest gave her one more chance to see reason, or at least, his version of reason.

 

"You know, some men are just not suited for being married.  Now take this Potee fella.  Look how he lashed out as his poor, upright, religious wife he had.  You saw how she came in here and begged him to leave the Star Dust and come home with her.  It was a pitiful sight.  Why I had to wipe a tear off my cheek.  He chased her out of here with harsh words, evil words, and you know what they say;  Idle hands are the devil's workshop and his first tool is a vicious tongue."

 

"I don't believe you know how to cry, Mr Priest." she replied primly "Though I grant you probably know all about the Devil!" Oh, she thought she was pretty smart with that answer.

 

He sighed.

 

"And what did that poor woman do?  She went back to their place, a place she'd dreamed of making a life in, and hung herself straight away."  He bent a little closer to her and spoke confidentially.  "Seems to me, there's only one person responsible for that tragedy, and it ain't him," he pointed to Fortner at the bar, and it ain't you, and it ain't me.  It's that man sittin' on his porch with his head in his hands and trying to squeeze the liquor out of his brain. --- that's who."

 

He wasn't trying to persuade her now, he was telling her. there was something in his voice: a cold confidence, that made her own self confidence slip a little. She carried on playing the jolly tune, but she could feel a cold grip of fear start to close around her heart.

 

He got even more confidential.  "And I'd be careful who you start makin' accusations about.  Be real careful.  Real careful."

 

She actually gasped, and that wasn't the only thing that escaped her, as she realised that the nasty old snake was actually threatening her. She immediately wanted to jump up and run and hide behind the bar where Mr Flandry would protect her, or run upstairs and get Caroline to fight her corner or go fetch Mammy Cookie from the kitchen; but she realised now that she couldn't do that to them: Priest was Fortner's friend, more than that, she had always suspected: they were in cahoots. She couldn't put any of her three protectors in that position, of having to choose between their employer and her. 

 

Coward that she was, she immediately backed down: and a pathetic sight it was too, she was nearly grovelling on her knees to the mean old man. "Oh! A...A...I wasn't saying nothin' about no-one, honest I wasn't ... and I won't, I mean, I... I'm never ever gonna talk about this to anyone else ever again, mister Priest. You don't have to worry about that! And, 'sides, I 'm just a silly little girl, no one cares what I say anyway." she assured him, eyes saucer wide and brimming with fear. 

 

She was weak, she knew it, she was nothing but a big scardy-cat coward: and she'd just added a new item to the long list of things she was scared of: guns, cows, horses, spiders, stinging nettles and Hiram Priest.

 

@Preston

 

 

Javia

Javia

"Sorry you're takin' it all so bad," he said with a certain Grandfatherly sincerity.  "All of us show sadness in different ways.  And if you'd ever like to talk about it, maybe I can help."

 

"I'll talk about it to Jesus, thank you very much, Mr Priest. You may have heard of him." Arabella replied, feeling pretty clever at that remark. 

 

If she knew what thin ice she was skating on, she might have been a little more circumspect in her comments. But Priest gave her one more chance to see reason, or at least, his version of reason.

 

"You know, some men are just not suited for being married.  Now take this Potee fella.  Look how he lashed out as his poor, upright, religious wife he had.  You saw how she came in here and begged him to leave the Star Dust and come home with her.  It was a pitiful sight.  Why I had to wipe a tear off my cheek.  He chased her out of here with harsh words, evil words, and you know what they say;  Idle hands are the devil's workshop and his first tool is a vicious tongue."

 

"I don't believe you know how to cry, Mr Priest." she replied primly "Though I grant you probably know all about the Devil!" Oh, she thought she was pretty smart with that answer.

 

He sighed.

 

"And what did that poor woman do?  She went back to their place, a place she'd dreamed of making a life in, and hung herself straight away."  He bent a little closer to her and spoke confidentially.  "Seems to me, there's only one person responsible for that tragedy, and it ain't him," he pointed to Fortner at the bar, and it ain't you, and it ain't me.  It's that man sittin' on his porch with his head in his hands and trying to squeeze the liquor out of his brain. --- that's who."

 

He wasn't trying to persuade her now, he was telling her. there was something in his voice: a cold confidence, that made her own self confidence slip a little. She carried on playing the jolly tune, but she could feel a cold grip of fear start to close around her heart.

 

He got even more confidential.  "And I'd be careful who you start makin' accusations about.  Be real careful.  Real careful."

 

She actually gasped, and that wasn't the only thing that escaped her, as she realised that the nasty old snake was actually threatening her. She immediately wanted to jump up and run and hide behind the bar where Mr Flandry would protect her, or run upstairs and get Caroline to fight her corner or go fetch Mammy Cookie from the kitchen; but she realised now that she couldn't do that to them: Priest was Fortner's friend, more than that, she had always suspected: they were in cahoots. She couldn't put any of her three protectors in that position, of having to choose between their employer and her. 

 

Coward that she was, she immediately backed down: and a pathetic sight it was too, she was nearly grovelling on her knees to the mean old man. "Oh! A...A...I wasn't saying nothin' about no-one, honest I wasn't ... and I won't, I mean, I... I'm never ever gonna talk about this to anyone else ever again, mister Priest. You don't have to worry about that! And, 'sides, I 'm just a silly little girl, no one cares what I say anyway." she assured him, eyes saucer wide and brimming with fear. 

 

She was weak, she knew it, she was nothing but a big scardy-cat coward: and she'd just added anew item to the list of things she was scared of: guns, cows, horses, spiders, stinging nettles and Hiram Priest.

 

@Preston

 

 

"Sorry you're takin' it all so bad," he said with a certain Grandfatherly sincerity.  "All of us show sadness in different ways.  And if you'd ever like to talk about it, maybe I can help."

 

"I'll talk about it to Jesus, thank you very much, Mr Priest. You may have heard of him." Arabella replied, feeling pretty clever at that remark. 

 

If she knew what thin ice she was skating on, she might have been a little more circumspect in her comments. But Priest gave her one more chance to see reason, or at least, his version of reason.

 

"You know, some men are just not suited for being married.  Now take this Potee fella.  Look how he lashed out as his poor, upright, religious wife he had.  You saw how she came in here and begged him to leave the Star Dust and come home with her.  It was a pitiful sight.  Why I had to wipe a tear off my cheek.  He chased her out of here with harsh words, evil words, and you know what they say;  Idle hands are the devil's workshop and his first tool is a vicious tongue."

 

"I don't believe you know how to cry, Mr Priest." she replied primly "Though I grant you probably know all about the Devil!" Oh, she thought she was pretty smart with that answer.

 

He sighed.

 

"And what did that poor woman do?  She went back to their place, a place she'd dreamed of making a life in, and hung herself straight away."  He bent a little closer to her and spoke confidentially.  "Seems to me, there's only one person responsible for that tragedy, and it ain't him," he pointed to Fortner at the bar, and it ain't you, and it ain't me.  It's that man sittin' on his porch with his head in his hands and trying to squeeze the liquor out of his brain. --- that's who."

 

He was trying to persuade her now, he was telling her. there was something in his voice: a cold confidence, that made her own self confidence slip a little. She carried on playing the jolly tune, but she could feel a cold grip of fear start to close around her heart.

 

He got even more confidential.  "And I'd be careful who you start makin' accusations about.  Be real careful.  Real careful."

 

She actually gasped, and that wasn't the only thing that escaped her, as she realised that the nasty old snake was actually threatening her. She immediately wanted to jump up and run and hide behind the bar where Mr Flandry would protect her, or run upstairs and get Caroline to fight her corner or go fetch Mammy Cookie from the kitchen; but she realised now that she couldn't do that to them: Priest was Fortner's friend, more than that, she had always suspected: they were in cahoots. She couldn't put any of her three protectors in that position, of having to choose between their employer and her. 

 

Coward that she was, she immediately backed down: and a pathetic sight it was too, she was nearly grovelling on her knees to the mean old man. "Oh! A...A...I wasn't saying nothin' about noone, honest I wasn't ... and I won't, I mean, I... I'm neer ever gonna talk about this to anyone else ever again, mister Priest. You don't have to worry about that! And, 'sides, I 'm just a silly little girl, no one cares what I say anyway." she assured him, eyes saucer wide and brimming with fear. 

 

She was weak, she knew it, she was nothing but a big scardy-cat coward: and she'd just added anew item to the list of things she was scared of: guns, cows, horses, spiders, stinging nettles and Hiram Priest.

 

@Preston

 

 

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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