[Firelands-The Beginning]

Kid Sopris 5-23-08

 

It was near dusk, when Sopris reached the cabin..It looked more like the St. Louis Biltmore. The Squaw, had apparently already knew of Sopris arrival, or maybe it was her ancient ways. Either way the fresh venison stew simmering on the old stove could be smelled a mile from the cabin.

Beaver had already cleared most of the trees adjacent to the Terlamis stream, so named after Harry Terlamis an ol time prospector, allowing clear passage for the train of horses and mules without any difficulty.

Stable had fresh hay and oats already filled in the troughs and the work of unsaddling and unpacking was much easier. The brush-outs and grooming before seeing to his own needs was completed in about an hour.

A lone wolf stood guard by the door..it was a wild hunter of the forest before the squaw befriended it and made it half tolerable. It never growled, snickered or gave way to Sopris, who approached the front door.

The wolf gently licked Sopris's hand as he walked inside to the clean but dinner is ready smell of the cabin. Sopris not sure why the wolf was so friendly, except the smell of the venison was probably a good motivator.

Fresh fish also hung in the outdoor shade cooler by the kitchen and fresh coffee was brewin...All Sopris needed was some vanilla.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Kid Sopris 5-23-08

 

Retired US Marshall Sopris was tired of the politics, the everyday crud of butting his head against the hitching post: He also recognized that he need to give Duzy/Josie time to heal and find the time to explain to Jake her feelings.

The mountain air was crisp, the rivers of the Roaring Fork and Crystal merged in a turbulent splash before widening out and bringing calm after the confluence.

Sopris was at the foot of the very mountain bearing his name, Mt. Sopris. He had a large cabin on the North-westerly side of the Mountain between the small communities of Crystal and Carbondale.

He found this place after escorting a load of Marble from the community below Crystal, used in the White House in Washington DC. His Father discovered the mountain and retained a section of land there.

Sopris felt he was still a creel short of fish in dealing with the public, so his nerves and patience was thin. Riding into town, those who recognized him, almost gasped for air out of surprise. Hitching his horse and mules, he strolled into Dr. Bottoms place. Doc, was one of the best poker players around, because he never changed expressions, even when he was happy to see someone.

Doc barely looked up when he saw his old friend drift in, instead he poured a large hot coffee in a tin cup, and spoke. "The Ol squaw still keeps your place in top shape. I suppose it's because you saved her fathers life. You stickin around or passing thru?"

Sopris took a good drink of the mud, Doc called coffee, and replied, "Shut up Doc and deal, you talk to much".

So began the next chapter of Kid Sopris life.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-23-08

 

Susan came out periodically to reassure the several who waited that yes, all was well, no they didn't need to worry, yes, she would be fine; one by one the residents trickled out, all but Jacob and Annette and Jackson Cooper.
Finally Susan sat down beside Jacob and took his hand.
Jacob blinked, surprised.
Susan patted his hand. "Jacob, you are a fine young man," she said with a direct, no-nonsense tone in her voice. "You will make that young lady a good husband, but first you must take care of yourself."
"Ma'am?" Jacob blinked, surprised.
Susan laughed, a pleasant sound in the cool stillness of the spotless waiting area. "Jacob," she admonished him gently, "sometimes I wonder if you think of yourself at all."
Jacob looked over at Annette, then back to Susan.
"I don't think of me much, no ma'am," he admitted.
Susan stood, still holding Jacob's hand, and used the grip to draw him to his feet. "Since you're obviously thinking of that lovely lady whose hand you're holding, why don't you take her to the Jewel and get her some food? I'm sure after her trip she's probably quite hungry!"
Annette blinked, surprised, and Susan laughed again.
"There! I thought you might be!" Susan released Jacob's hand and patted his shoulder.
"Your mother will be just fine, Jacob. She had the wind knocked out of her and she may have cracked a cheek bone, but she'll be fine."
"Yes, ma'am," Jacob said, picking up his Stetson.
"And you!" Susan pointed to Jackson Cooper, who was ruefully regarding the rumpled remnants of his hat. "Aren't you supposed to be working, or bringing the buggy around for your wife?"
"Yes, ma'am," Jackson Cooper said meekly, a surprisingly gentle sound from such a sizable man.
Susan relieved him of the hat and with a few deft punches, restored the crown, at least, to a passable shape. "There. I think you can probably have this steamed and reblocked. Ask Maude, she'll know." Susan reached up, stretching a little and settling the re-contoured skypiece on the man's head.
"Now go on, all of you! Shoo! Go get a meal, get a bath, get out of here!"
Susan's smile and her light tone gentled her words, and her shoo-away gesture, combined with the near-laughter in her voice, brought even the stoic Jacob to a near-smile.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-22-08

 

Two tall men sat watch: one within, holding his wife's hand as she slept; the other, younger, no less tall but more slender, sat without and waited.
Jacob was no stranger to subjugating his feelings, nor to cold reflection, and now, in the still of the shining-clean waiting room, he examined his feelings with an objectivity as warm and welcoming as King Winter himself.
He saw the mule, in slow motion, rear and snap its reins free of the hitch-rail; he saw its tail corkscrew as it danced back on its hind legs, mouth open with a nasal HAAAWWW, then, driving its forehooves into the hard packed dirt street, reared up and kicked, twisted and came down on top of its pack, busting it loose.
He remembered Esther, laughing and waving at Maude over at the Mercantile, and how she turned, her left hand dropping quickly -- for a weapon? he wondered -- and how the jack rolled again, upright and launching into another gyration.
He remembered Esther's right arm coming up to block the approaching, steel-shod hoof, and how she threw her head to the side: almost, Jacob thought, but not quite enough.
One hoof grazed the side of her face.
Her head snapped back with the force of the grazing blow.
Jacob saw the second hoof following the first, but a little wider, and how it buried itself in the emerald silk of her dress, down near to the waist, and it drove deep, deep into his mother's belly.
Esther had come clear off the ground.
He remembered seeing the flash of her shoe soles as she went over, eyes wide and staring and her face pale, pale ...
Jacob was on his feet and running through cold, clear honey, like in a nightmare, and he was filled with an unbelievably clear-sighted rage.
He was going to kill that jack that just killed his mother.
His Pa was there, of a sudden, and things changed.
Pa, he thought. Pa will make it right!
Jacob's hands were restless on his Stetson brim as he stared through the glass-smooth quartz wall, seeing it happen again, all over again ...
He saw his Pa on a horse he didn't recognize, a stallion that carried the weight of a freight engine with the grace of a dancer.
He saw a fighting stallion drive into that fighting jack mule and knock it senseless, drubbing it with forehooves and hind-hooves in the process.
He saw his Pa, a warrior-god, astride the equine incarnation of Mars himself, delivering war and thunderbolts, and Jacob closed his eyes and he heard the stallion screaming, screaming ...
The outside door opened.
Jacob saw a silhouette against the blazing sunlight.
He stood.
Annette's heels were quick and urgent, echoing on the sterile floor.
Jacob, like most young men, learned much more from his Pa than his Pa ever realized, and one important thing Jacob learned, was how to treat his lady.
Annette drew up, suddenly unsure of what to do, but Jacob did not hesitate.
Annette found herself enveloped in a wiry, trembling embrace, and her feet left the floor as he picked her up.
She smelled of soap and a trace of lilac, and his face buried into her hair, his lips near her ear. Her hat tilted a bit, but at the moment, she did not care.
"I'm glad you're here," he whispered, and Annette's arms were firm around him.
They held each other for a long time.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-21-08

 

The stage clattered to a stop, dust and trace-chains and the driver's shouted profanity drawing a couple downright glares.
The shotgun rider stood, stretching his short, stocky legs, and snatched up the mail sack. "Here ye go!" he yelled cheerfully, spinning it toward the laboring pair on the boardwalk.
The sack knocked over Bill's bucket of soapy water.
Bill dropped the rag and its wet payload of Colorado farmland, formerly deposited on the Mercantile's window, and snatched up the heavy canvas-and-leather bag before it could soak.
"Now what's eatin' him?" the shotgun wondered as Bill stalked inside.
"Dunno," the driver grunted. "Help that little gal outta there, wouldja?"
"Yeah." The shotgun guard parked his Greener and climbed down from the high seat.
Miss Messman looked out at the familiar front of the library and smiled.
Home! she thought. Home, and Duzy, and ... Jacob!"
She colored a little at the thought of the handsome young man, tall and slender and so very strong, confident and yet shy, the walking contradiction that young men are at that age.
She smiled at the shotgun and took his hand, stepping delicately out of the leather-sprung coach and to the dusty, almost-rutted street.
The driver handed a heavy trunk down to the shotgun, who shouldered it, bounced once and grunted, "Wheredayawannit, lady?"
"The library, if you please," Miss Messman gestured to the building across the street.
The shotgun waddled across the sunlit street, scarcely burdened by more than a hundredweight balanced on his right shoulder.
Miss Messman unlocked the door, swung it open. "In here, please," she smiled, and the shotgun waddled into the cool darkness of the library.
"Anywhere will do, thank you," she said, and the shotgun swung it easily to the floor, setting it almost delicately on the polished wood floor, resembling nothing more than one of the underground mining dwarves she'd read about in some story or another.
He'd no sooner waddled out the door than Daisy came in, smelling of biscuits and bacon. "Ye're back, thank God," she said, her brogue prominent with her distress, and she embraced the surprised girl.
Annette embraced her back, blinking. "Why, whatever is the matter?" she asked.
Daisy pressed the corner of her apron to her nose. "It's Miz Esther," she said, "but it's no' her I'm thinkin' of, it's puir Jacob."
Miss Messman's fingertips went to her lips. "Jacob? Oh my, what happened?"
"He just grew into a man, lass, but a hard thing it is. Ye should go t' him."
"Where...?"
"The hospital. Miz Esther's been hurt, but I know the look in a man's eyes, an' Jacob isna' takin' i' well a'tall."
"Thank you!" Annette's touch was light on the older woman's shoulder as she snatched up her skirts with her other hand and ran out the door.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-21-08

 

Jackson Cooper was in the waiting room with Jacob and what seemed to the Sheriff like a hundred other folks, He reckoned nine or ten would be an accurate count but then he was not really himself.
From the look of Jackson Cooper, he wasn't either.
He'd twisted his hat into what looked like a felt sausage.
Jacob caught his Pa's eye.
The Sheriff lifted his chin in acknowledgement, crossed the shining, polished quartz floor in a few long-legged strides.
"She's askin' for you, sir," Jacob said in the quiet voice men reserve for a sickroom. "I was ready to come fetch you."
"Thank you, Jacob."
Jackson Cooper looked positively sick.
The Sheriff looked at Jacob, shifted his eyes to Jackson Cooper without moving his head.
Keep an eye on him.
Jacob's head nodded, a fraction of a degree, enough to let him know he understood.
The Sheriff walked slowly to the waiting door.
Hesitating before the stained, varnished, carefully crafted oak door, he raised his knuckles to knock.
Susan opened it before he had the chance.
He stepped in; Susan took him briskly by the arm and steered him over to where Esther lay on her side, almost as pale as the bed sheets, or so it seemed. Her hair and her lips stood out brightly against their stark backgrounds.
He was no longer the Sheriff, tall, strong, a lean lawman with ice-blue eyes.
He was a husband, worried for his wife.
Her eyes were closed, and her hand, cool, cool and soft like it always was, but with that indefinable ... something ... that something that meant she was alive.
The Sheriff had held the hands of the living, and the hands of the dead; he'd held dead hands that were warm, and living hands that were cool, and could always tell the difference.
His worst fear disappeared with this simple touch of flesh.
Susan had cleaned Esther's face, but the scrape and subsequent bruising, apparently from a hoof coming entirely too close to her cheek bone, purpled nearly half her face, or so it seemed.
Esther's eyes opened, slowly.
She smiled carefully and instantly grimaced, and then regretted that too.
"Jacob was in," she said, slurring her words a little. "Face hurts."
"Don't talk, dearest," he soothed. "Rest."
Esther's eyes closed, not in sleep, but in contentment: she'd been waiting, waiting for her husband's big, warm hand in hers.
Now all would be well.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Duzy Wales 5-21-08

 

The train came to an unscheduled stop, and with a stunned look in everyone’s eyes, Kid departed the train with a string of horses and pack mules, just outside of Glenwood Springs, and told Jake to “see that Josie returns to Firelands.”

“Josie, I hope you find what it is you’re looking for, if you don’t, I will be on the northwest side of that huge mountain, 12 miles south, just southwest of where the two rivers meet…I hope to spend what’s left of my retirement foolishly. Vaya Con Dios Amigos.”

With that, retired U.S. Marshall Sopris rode off. He never looked back, not even after hearing the departing train whistle!

Josie stood in shock, a single tear running down the side of her face, feeling as if she had lost her best friend. “Stay safe,” was all she could say as she watched until he was out of sight.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-21-08

 

The Sheriff tugged the slip knot on the great stallion's reins and began trudging toward the doc's office.
Mac had just picked his broom up again to resume sweeping the boardwalk in front of the Mercantile.
"Now whattaya daydreamin' about?" Bill growled, setting down a bucket of water.
"Look at him." Mac gestured toward the Sheriff's slowly retreating form.
"You'd think he was going to his own execution."
They watched as the Sheriff bent over double and heaved up his guts.
"Yep," Bill agreed. "Sure does."
"If Esther dies, he might as well just lay down and die with her," Mac said softly. "You seen the way he looks at her?"
Bill squeezed his cleaning rag, trickling soapy water back into the wooden bucket. "I seen how he treats her."
"Like a queen."
"Yep."
Bill began wiping off the Mercantile's windows.
"Reckon she's hurt bad?"
Mac began sweeping harder.
"Mac?"
Mac was sweeping hard enough to whisk the grain out of the wood.
"Now what's eatin' you, you ugly excuse for a checker player?"
Mac stopped sweeping.
"She's pregnant, you fool," he said softly.
Bill's nerveless hand dropped the balled-up cleaning rag.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Charlie MacNeil 5-20-08

 

Ozzie Smithers lay as still as death on the examining table except for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Blood dripped from his torn shoulder onto the floor and pooled there. Charlie stood to one side while the doctor made his examination. "This shoulder is ruined, as is the upper arm," the doctor said. "He must have taken almost the entire charge of shot there. It looks like I'll have to take the arm." He reached for a pan holding enough cutting instruments to dismember an elephant.

"I don't think so, Doc," Charlie said. His icy words were punctuated by the whisper of steel on leather as Charlie tucked Ozzie's pistol under his own belt.

"There is no way this man's arm can be repaired," the doctor protested.

"We'll see about that," Charlie said. "You start picking out the shot and get the bleeding stopped. I'll be back shortly." Charlie turned and hurried out and down the street to the livery. A few minutes later he was heading out of Denver at a high lope.

At the mining camp Charlie yanked the lathered horse to a halt and jumped off and onto the boardwalk in front of the large tent he'd just left the day before, and crashed through the door. "Doctor Chang, you're needed," he called.

Chang appeared from the rear of the big tent. "Marshal MacNeil! What is the matter?"

"A man's been shot and he needs your help," Charlie said.

"Are there no other doctors?"

"There's a doctor with him right now. One who wants to take the man's arm. I want you to save that arm."

Chang stared at Charlie then turned back toward the door at the rear of the room. "I will get my bag," he said simply.

Willy limped into the room from outside. "What's this about savin' a man's arm?" he asked.

Charlie filled him in on what had happened, finishing with, "And there's no way Ozzie's gonna lose an arm."

Willy looked at him speculatively. "You're gettin' involved again, ain't ya?" he said. He chuckled and shook his head. "I reckon you can't help it, can ya?" he asked rhetorically, already knowing the answer.

Chang appeared, shrugging into a coat. "I am ready," he said.

"Have you got a horse?" Charlie asked. "It's a fair piece from here to there."

"I can borrow one nearby," Chang said. He went out the door with Charlie on his heels.

The two men drew up in front of the doctor's office and hurried inside. The doctor looked up, startled to see who was with Charlie. "Chang!" he said. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"Marshal MacNeil has asked me to look at this man's wound," Chang said. The doctor stepped between Ozzie and the Chinese doctor. "Please step aside," Chang said.

"I will not step aside and let a heathen touch one of my patients!" the doctor declared.

"Then I guess Ozzie just ceased to be one of your patients," Charlie said coldly. "Step aside."

The doctor, who was half again Charlie's size, turned to him. "I'll be damned if I will!" he declared.

Charlie's pistol apeared magically in his hand. "And I will guarantee you'll be double damned if you don't," he grated. "Now move!"

The doctor stared incredulously at Charlie, then down at the gun in his hand. "You wouldn't dare," he snapped.

"You just try me, my sizable friend," Charlie said easily. "I will not have this young man's life wrecked because you're prejudiced." Charlie waved the pistol a quarter of an inch to the side, and the doctor moved.

"We'll just see about this!" the doctor declared. "I have friends, you know," he blustered.

"Bring 'em on," Charlie said. "The more the merrier."

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-20-08

 

Hijo del Sol was standing hip shot at the hitch rail, his head down, looking for all the world like he was dead, discouraged and wilted, at least until the front door slammed open and Doc and I came boiling out.
Doc took off up the street at a sprint and I grabbed for Hijo's reins.
I don't even recall getting my foot in the stirrup before we were from dead stop to full gallop in one long jump.
We went past the church picking up speed and there was a mule in the middle of the street, a big jack hawing and kicking and making life miserable for anyone within ten feet of his reach and I aimed Hijo del Sol straight for him and touched my heels to his ribs and yelled "HAAA!" and Hijo's ears laid back and I felt him dig into the ground and he fired himself at that mule like a cannonball out of a rifled field piece.
That mule was solid built but Hijo had him in weight, speed, height and downright meanness.
Hijo hit him broadside and drove him ten foot sideways before he went over that screaming jack, kicking as he went over top of him.
I didn't have to haul back on the reins.
Hijo slid his hind quarters and drug his backside on the ground getting turned around and I think his shoes threw sparks he was digging so hard.
That jack was fighting to get back up and Hijo reared, screaming a stallion's challenge, just inviting that long eared troublemaker to get up.
The jack tried to rear up and swing its hind end to bear and Hijo beat him to it, clubbing him twice before swinging his own hind around and belting him with a good two legged kick.
I was kind of busy trying to hang onto this gold cyclone to see how far the mule went this time.
Hijo buck-jumped twice under me and spun again, screaming that whistling challenge that was to become his trademark, rearing up on his hinders and windmilling those fore hooves, just inviting the jack to come up and fight.
He must have clobbered that jack a good one, for the jack just lay there and grunted.
An old prospector was faded back against the front of the Jewel, trying to turn invisible.
I gentled Hijo down and nudged him up to the crowd gathered around something in emerald silk piled up against the board walk.
Hijo shoved bodies out of the way with his big nose and I swung down and crowded through the hole he made me.
"Don't move her," Doc cautioned me, one arm across my chest.
I stopped, nodded once.
Esther's cheek bone was scraped some and she was bleeding out her nose, but that didn't worry me.
She was doubled up on her side, dead pale, her mouth open and gasping desperately for air.
Jacob was on the board walk, his jaw set and if ever there was unforgiveness carved in marble, it was in his face.
I saw him walk over toward that mule.
Doc was examining Esther and I sorted out what half a dozen babbling voices were trying to say.
"That mule just went crazy," Mac declared, wringing his hands in his shopkeeper's apron. "Just went crazy, I tell you! Miz Esther was crossing the street and that mule just went crazy!"
"Don't tell me crazy," I said, ice in my voice. "Say what happened first."
"Well, well, well," Mac stammered, "it jerked loose of the hitch rail and kicked off its pack and begun to spin and kick and bray, and about the third or fourth spin -- it was fast, I tell you, fast! -- why, it fetched Miz Esther right in the belly and sent her into the edge of the boardwalk here!"
Heads nodded, voices affirmed.
"Will she live?" I asked Doc, and my voice was cold, cold, and my belly squeezed up into a knot the size of my fist.
"The hospital, now," Doc said quietly, and eager hands cradled Esther up and carefully stepped sideways, Doc staying in arm's reach of my wife.
I looked up at the prospector.
He looked at me, plainly sick at what happened.
I turned to the mule.
Jacob was standing to its back, the mule was still laying on its side.
Jacob went down on one knee.
"Sir?" he called.
I grabbed my temper and shoved it down in an iron kettle and screwed the lid down tight. This was no time for feelings.
Jacob reached down under what was left of the mule's pack frame, squeezed something quickly, then plucked it free.
He held up a hornet.
I beckoned to the prospector.
We explored the mule's back and backside and found at least three stinger welts.
The prospector laid a hand on his mule's neck.
"Is he hurt?" I asked.
The prospector was quiet for a long moment. "I never seed him do that afore," he said sadly. "He's bin stung afore an' never did that."
I looked at the dead hornet in Jacob's pinched grasp. "Hornets are mean," I said and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Wasn't the mule's fault."
The prosepctor looked up at me, misery in his eyes. "Who was it he hurt? Any idee?" he asked.
I nodded. "My wife," I said.
"My mother," Jacob said.
The prospector closed his eyes. I reckon he was preparing to lose his good and faithful friend.
"Let's see if your mule's hurt," I said.
The prospector allowed himself a tiny glimmer of hope.
"You ain't a-gonna kill him?"
I shook my head. "Wasn't his fault."
I looked up at Jacob. Rage was still etched in his face and he turned away, mad enough to bite the horn off an anvil.
"Jacob?" I called gently.
He stopped, arms stiff at his side, and with an effort, mastered himself.
He turned. "Sir?"
"Go see to your mother," I said gently. "She needs her son."
"Yes, sir."
He turned and was three paces toward the hospital when I saw his step falter.
The phrase just sank in and hit bottom.
She needs her son.
Jacob stopped for a long moment.
She needs her son.
Jacob squared his shoulders, paced off on the left, and strode for the hospital.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-20-08

 

I rode back past Doc's office, there in the shiny new hospital.
Dr. Flint was off on a house call, but Dr. Greenlees was in, and he and I had a bit of a talk.
I handed him the telegram and he furrowed his brow as he read it, his left brow slowly climbing a little the way it did when he was thinking.
I leaned against the door frame, Stetson in hand, and let the man think.
Finally he rubbed the corner of his jaw and handed it back to me.
"Is there a history of previous head injury?" he asked formally.
I shook my head. "None as I know of, but it's hard to tell what happened when that tornado went through."
"Hm." He thrust his hands in his pockets and regarded the stamped tin ceiling with a serious expression. "Shock," he murmured, "psychic distress, sensory overload, closed head injury, alcohol induced delireum, prolonged malnutrition, prolonged dehydration ..."
I knew better than to interrupt the man. He tended to order his thoughts before giving an actual answer. I was one of the few people with whom he would think out loud, probably because I did not interrupt.
Finally he blinked and put away his faraway look like a man will put a note in his pocketbook and tuck it in a hidden pocket.
"I will know more when I speak with her," he said briskly.
The door burst open and one of the woodcutter's boys blurted, "Doc, come quick! Some mule just kicked Miz Esther!"
My belly fell out from under me and Doc and I collided going out the door.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-20-08

 

Caleb whistled with admiration as we paced up to the Rosenthals' front porch. Sarah, far less reserved, let out a happy squeal and launched herself down the front stairs and toward the great golden stallion.
For a moment, for just a moment, I feared disaster -- until Hijo del Sol put his nose down and Sarah gave him a hug and a kiss and demanded "Where have you been! I have missed you so!" and damned if Hijo del Sol didn't mutter at her and rub his huge head against her, just begging to be petted.
Caleb and I looked at one another and laughed.
"I reckon he's not the first male to be absolutely charmed by a lovely lass," I said, and Caleb agreed.
Wisely, he remained on the porch.
I dismounted -- and realized again I was farther off the ground -- and loose-reined Hijo del Sol to their hitch rail. Sarah was bouncing on her toes the way she always did: "Uncle Linn! Uncle Linn! Pick me up!" and Hijo del Sol wasn't the only male that day to be absolutely charmed by the same lovely lass.
I took off my hat as we went inside. Bonnie had a double armful of babies, both of them asleep or nearly so, the glow of motherhood making her absolutely beautiful.
Caleb Rosenthal, I thought, you'd better appreciate what you have here.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Duzy Wales 5-19-08

 

Josie awoke feeling lethargic from the laudanum, but having slept well; she packed the liquid and dressed for the trip to Firelands. Somehow, she felt better knowing that she had it close by, and decided to get more from the doctor before leaving. Josie had heard of the opium based drug, but like most people who become addicts, she didn’t believe that it would ever happen to her; she needed it for the headaches and when they stopped, she would stop as well.

If it wasn’t for her long dark hair, flowing loosely under her hat, Josie could be mistaken for a young man dressed in her newly acquired clothing. It wasn’t until taking a closer look that anyone noticed how differently the clothes fit and how they accentuated the womanly aspects of her body. Josie felt comfortable in the clothes and could care less what anyone thought, as she strapped on her beloved Colts and met her traveling companions downstairs.

It hurt Jake to see Duzy as Josie and he thought he would try to talk to her about it. He walked over and took her hand, kissed the back of it lightly, continuing to hold it in his. “Duzy, I never have stood much on convention, but you look so much prettier in your day outfits, and you used to love them, won’t you consider changing for the trip, it may help you to remember if you wore your own clothes.” Jake said as he noticed she looked a lot like her brothers in those damn britches, it didn’t set well with him, and the lady he had fallen in love with wouldn’t be seen in public dressed like that. He hoped her memory would return soon. He missed Duzy.

“First of all, my name is Josie, not Duzy! Second, I love what I am wearing! I can move and breathe and shoot easier than I can all corseted up! Third, I read Duzy Wales diary, and I would think that if you two were as close as she so delicately described in that pretty handwritin’ of hers, that my clothes would be the least of your worries right now, Marshall Thomas. Or did you really love Duzy Wales? Didn’t you tell her you could work through anything together? And just one more thing, how would you feel if I am never, or never have been Duzy Wales? Put that in your damn pipe and smoke it, I don’t give a damn if you like what I am wearing or not!”

Jake could have kicked himself, but it didn’t seem he could do anything right with Duzy or Josie these days, ever since Mary Sloan, that and remembering her in the cemetery kissing Kid in the rain, both of them soaking wet and plastered against each other. He knew what would have happened if he hadn’t walked up. It seemed to eat at his insides and then he thought of her last question. How would he feel?

Kid walked up and leaned into Josie’s ear and said, “Josie Darlin’, I think those britches suit you and I have never seen anyone look any prettier than you do in them,” and then winked at her. Josie laughed and asked, “Women or men, Kid?” Kid laughed with her and said, “both, but I was speakin’ of the females.”

Chang followed and sat down beside Josie on the train. “Josie, I knew Duzy; I wish to know you. If you care to know if you were Duzy, I offer my assistance in helping you to bring the memories back if it is possible.”

“Thank you!” Josie said simply, not thinking she could be the woman in the dairy, and yet she had no memories of Josie’s past, so it was something she needed to think about. The problem was when she thought about it, the headaches and darkness came.

Josie excused herself for a few minutes and walked to the other side of the car, where no one was seated and reached for the small vial of laudanum from her shirt pocket and took a small sip without anyone noticing. She had left the bottles in her carpet bag.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-18-08

 

Rey del Sol had been a sizable stallion, I recalled; this colt of his, now, this colt was equally as tall, as long-legged ...
I grinned with delight.
I hadn't set this far off the ground since old Sam, and he was a plow horse, not a blooded racer!
Hijo del Sol's gait was butter smooth. I thought Rose o' the Mornin' had a smooth pace, but hell, I could ride with a fussy baby in my arms and it would sleep as if in its mama's cradle!
We cleared the fire house and I raised my hat to the Irish Brigade; they were polishing their gleaming engine, and one of the mares called to Hijo del Sol, and he swung his head around and rumbled a little, deep in his chest.
"Easy, fella," I soothed. "I know what you're thinkin'. I did too when I was your age."
Hijo del Sol began to stretch his pace a little, and I let him, and he began to reach out in earnest, and I have no idea how he did it but he went from a butter soft lope to a long-legged gallop in one easy step.
I was moving with him now, and the more I moved with him the faster he ran and my hat flew back and bounced once or twice on its storm strap and I leaned down over his neck and whispered "Go, boy," and damned if he didn't light a fire from somewhere and put the fastest horse I have ever ridden in my entire life to absolute SHAME!
I couldn't help it.
I cut loose with a wild wahoo, like some kid with his first girlfriend's kiss hot on his cheek.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Charlie MacNeil 5-17-08

 

"Somebody get a doctor," Charlie barked. "Now!" A boy at the back of the crowd that had formed, drawn by the gunfire, suddenly dashed away. Charlie looked around. "Somebody get me something to stop the bleeding," he said. Several hands held out handkerchiefs, some of which were even clean enough for Charlie to use. He pressed two of the cleanest to the wound in Ozzie's upper body.

"Mister, you're bleedin'," a voice said just as a salty trickle suddenly blurred Charlie's right eye.

"Ah crap, not again," Charlie said resignedly. He was beginning to think this city was jinxed.

A warm wet tongue approximately the size of most bath towels, give or take, suddenly swiped up along Charlie's face. He turned to look into the grinning face of his sidekick. "Where were you while this was happening?" Charlie asked. Dawg looked so downcast that Charlie had to chuckle, albeit grimly. "Don't worry about it, pardner," he said. "It's not your fault." He raised his voice. "Where's that doctor?"

"Right here," a deep voice said. "Just hold your horses." The voice was raised. "Make a hole, dammit! I need through."

The doctor, a large fellow in a well-tailored gray suit, knelt beside Ozzie. He spared a millisecond's glance at Parker, saw that he was dead, and turned his attention to the living. He took a probe from his bag and gently parted the cloth of Ozzie's suit jacket to expose the injury. Ozzie's face twitched and his eyes opened and he hissed through his teeth. "Easy there, Doc," he said faintly. "I've been shot."

"I came to that conclusion on my own, my good man," the doctor said. He looked around at the crowd and raised his voice. "Somebody get something here to take this man to my office." A door appeared from somewhere and Ozzie was placed on it and hoisted into the air. The doctor looked at Charlie. "Mister, you are bleeding. Follow me." He turned to follow the door and its burden without looking back to see if Charlie was following.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-17-08

 

A cowboy will not walk across the street if he can ride.
Rose o' the Mornin', however, was stabled at the livery, and I'd never been a working cowpoke, so I had no compunctions about riding Shank's Mares to the livery in order to secure more suitable transportation.
I'd gotten about half way down the alley when something large, gold and FAST came ripping out of the livery and straight toward me.
"HO!" I yelled, pointing at the great golden stallion, and its ears came up, then laid down flat, its teeth bared and it reared up, windmilling its hooves in a direct challenge to my authority.
I pointed a finger at his nose.
"NOW YOU STOP THAT!" I shouted. "SHAME on you! Behaving like that in public! SIENTENSE!"
The stallion came down on all fours and obediently dropped its bottom to the ground, looking absolutely chastened.
I walked fearlessly up to him and fondled his ears. Reaching in a coat pocket, I found one of the last of last year's apples, somewhat the worse for the winter, but not quite so squishy as to foul my coat: I offered it on a flat palm, soothing the stallion with my voice, gently massaging its ears, its neck, with my free hand.
The stallion happily masticated the wizened apple, and leaned a little into my manual ministrations.
There was a hail from the livery, a burst of Mexican, syllables best left unuttered in polite company, and a familiar grin surrounded by a great, gaudy sombrero lurched out of the shadows.
"Eduardo!" I exclaimed. "What brings you to the cold country?"
I snapped my fingers, made a gesture; the stallion obediently came to all fours, following with the docility of a favorite dog.
"Hace frio, si," Eduardo agreed, shivering a little. "I see you remember Rey del Sol!"
"Indeed I do, and he looks better than I remember!"
"He looks younger, senor!" Eduardo laughed. "This is el Hijo del Sol! He is but young, senor, and his belly is full of lust."
I laughed. "And so it is with the young, my friend! Have you eaten?"
"I have, gracias, pero tengo una pregunta." Eduardo laughed as Hijo del Sol made a good attempt at taste-testing a good percentage of his right hand.
"You have but to ask, amigo."
"Mi jefe, the acalde, knows of your Rose of the Morning," Eduardo said carefully. "El Jefe se quiere -- he wishes that Hijo del Sol should sire a colt on her."
I blinked. I'd thought to have Rose bred, for she was of good Kentucky stock, a line of blooded race horses known for both speed and endurance, and I remembered Eduardo's recounting a five-mile race with this stallion that was even now snuffing my pockets, hoping to find another apple.
"He offers gold, senor," Eduardo said tentatively.
I smiled.
"Eduardo, my answer is yes, and su acalde will wish to have mi Rosa de la Manana in his pasture while she grows large with foal."
Eduardo reached inside his coat and drew out a buckskin bag, bulging with small, irregular shapes.
He opened it, jingled the golden reales between his fingers.
I held up a forestalling hand. "Eduardo, you do me much honor in offering such a fortune for this little favor. Your acalde honors me more with this worthy mating than with mere gold. Hijo del Sol is a fine stallion, and I doubt me not his hot blood in the Kentucky veins of a foal will produce a line of horses the like of which the world has never seen!"
Eduardo blinked. I don't think he expected to gain this favor so easily.
"She is yours, my friend, for the foaling. Would you wish to take her back to the border country with you?"
Eduardo recovered his mental footing quickly. "Senor, El Acalde instructed me to spend this and this much more gold to gain this favor. He will be most pleased at your generosity!" He returned the poke to an inside pocket. "Perhaps su esposa would keep it for you, eh?"
"I would not insult as fine a man as El Acalde by refusing," I smiled, treading carefully, for this was a matter of honor, and I wished not to bruise any honorable sensitivities. I became acquainted with such matters at a young age, more so in uniform, and especially so when in the South.
Eduardo rubbed Hijo del Sol's nose and smiled. "He is yours, senor."
I about fell over.
The look on my face must have spoken volumes, for Eduardo laughed: he started out with a grin that fair to split his face in two, then he began a delighted cackle, and ended up bent double, holding his ribs and gasping for breath.
Hijo del Sol took the opportunity to nip playfully at his backside.
Eduardo yelped and straightened abruptly and then began his hysterics all over again.
Finally, when he'd recovered enough to get some wind in him, he said "Senor, I would be a bandito indeed if I were to beg a man's horse and give him none to ride in return!"
I patted Hijo del Sol's neck. "I have never ridden so fine a stallion," I admitted.
"Fear not, senor," Eduardo assured me. "He may nip your backside, but he has not taken off your hand. This is a good sign!"
"I need to ride out to the Rosenthal place. His barrel is bigger than Rose's. Do you reckon her saddle will fit?"
Eduardo threw back his head and laughed again, with that dazzling display of strong, white teeth. "Senor, forgive me! El Acalde has sent you a saddle for your troubles!" He turned and disappeared into the livery, reappearing a moment later with an absolutely beautiful, silver and torquoise mounted, carved, sculpted and fiendishly expensive, Mexican saddle, and an equally exquisite blanket over his forearm.
Hijo del Sol danced as we saddled him, and accepted the bit with a token show of reluctance, and when I stepped into that finely carved, silver and torquoise mounted, sculpted and fiendishly expensive Mexican saddle, I expected to feel like I'd just saddled a keg of dynamite with a short fuse.
Rey del Sol seemed just as pleased as punch, as if he wanted to show off, and damned if he didn't just absolutely strut as we trotted up the alley and down the main street.
"I will see you for supper, senor," Eduardo called happily after us.
"Come on, fellow," I said, grinning like a kid with a new toy.
"Let's see what you can do."
I touched my heels to his ribs and lifted the reins.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-17-08

 

The day was going downhill fast.
Lightning's boy caught up with me just as I finished a sentence in my journal.
I was thinking of Duzy, and thinking of Bonnie, and of the times they had both been terribly discouraged, and for no particular reason I'd written, "You are unique, and you are special. In all the bottomless oceans, in all the infinity of stars, there is only one of you. Just one. You are unique, and you are special."
I smiled as I wrote it. I'd told individuals pretty much this same thing, in private moments, moments when they needed to hear it. Sometimes it helped and sometimes not but there are times when it needed said.
I asked Lightning's boy, as he shifted restlessly from one leg to the other, how they were getting along in their new office in the Depot.
"Fine, sir," he grinned, self-consciously as I slid a coin across the desk to him. I knew he had plans, he'd mentioned them in an unguarded moment, and a young man -- for he was growing tall and growing into the idea that indeed he was becoming a man -- is often born with the fiddle foot, and travel requires money, and I knew him to be a thrifty sort. Like as not he had a tin box with every one of those coins I'd given him, squirreled safely away.
"Pa likes the floor better. He said his chair don't bump and try to twist out from under him when he slides it back now."
"Well, that's good," I chuckled. "I've had some of them chairs throw me now and again."
The lad grinned and was gone, with the nervous energy of the young, and I unfolded the telegram and began to read.
Not five minutes later I was elbow deep in a three way conference with Tom Landers and Esther. The flimsy was passed from hand to hand to hand, its wording read, its meaning discussed, and while Tom and I being men were free to scratch our heads in outright puzzlement, my lovely bride, bless her, was constrained from that activity by a ladylike upbringing: she had to content herself with sliding her spectacles down her nose and looking disapprovingly at Lightning's neat print.
"Duzy thinks she's someone named Josie, eh?" Tom muttered. "And she'll be askin' for work. Hell, she owns part of the Jewel, she doesn't need to ask" --
Tom shook his head.
"Duzy wouldn't have to ask," Esther said quietly, "but she's not Duzy now."
"Damndest thing I ever heard," Tom mumbled unhappily.
"I trust the Kid's judgement," I declared. "Might be such a thing as she hit her head in that-there tornado or whatever happened to 'em. I've known men hit their heads and been addled for some time."
I looked at the floor, then up at Tom. "Y'know, my Pa told me once the wise man is the one who knows where to find his answers. Reckon I'd best go talk to Doc."
Tom grunted unhappily. "You do that."
Esther laid a gentle hand on Tom's arm.
"Tom? What are your thoughts?"
Tom patted Esther's hand, the gesture of an old and trusted friend.
"Ma'am, I'm just an old lawman. I know criminals and crooks, scoundrels and scalawags, I know the law and I know the enforcing of it, but darned if the workin's of the female mind are one thing I just can't get my rope around!"
Esther laughed, an easy, flowing laugh, a sound that unwound the knot a little in my gut.
"So women are a mystery, are we?"
"Yes, ma'am," Tom nodded. "I freely and readily admit that women are about the biggest mystery I ever come up ag'inst!"
"Good!" Esther raised up on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then looked over at me, and merriment danced in her emerald eyes. I winked at her as Tom turned an amazing shade of red.
"Likely it won't take long for the train to get here," I hazarded. "I'd say we have maybe a day. I'll talk to Doc and then ride out to the Rosenthal place, let them know."
Tom looked over at the bar. "Mr. Baxter?" he called in a friendly voice. "I think you should be in on this too, and while you're at it, could I trouble you for a shot of Old Pain Killer? My leg is tellin' me it might rain here directly."

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Duzy Wales 5-16-08

 

Josie reached for the bottle of laudanum; the headaches were getting worse, and the doctor she had seen in Saint Louis had told her it would help. The darkness was swirling around her and she couldn’t find relief. She took a drink, and later another, just to ease the pain, and if she was honest with herself, it also helped to forget the questions that kept coming to her mind, questions she didn’t want to face because she wasn’t ready to know the answers. With the liquid came oblivion and she didn’t feel the pain.

There was a knock on the door, probably the lawman that had let her rest on his bed until they left for Colorado, the one who had kissed her, the one who had given her Colts back to her. The other items had belonged to Duzy Wales. Josie had looked at the woman’s clothing, and had read her diary. Now she knew why the two lawmen acted as they did, always competitive, sometimes sarcastic with each other. They had both loved Duzy Wales….they both thought Josie was Duzy, but how could that be? They were so different. Duzy was a lady who had planned her life; Josie took each day at a time. The laudanum started taking effect and Josie forgot about Duzy and the knock at the door.

Kid turned the key in the lock when Josie didn’t answer, and slipped inside the room, trying to be quiet to let her rest. His hope was that her memory would return before they reached Firelands, but being a careful man, he had sent word to Sheriff Keller advising him of the situation. Kid thought it best that her friends and family know before “Josie” walked into the Silver Jewel and asked for work! Bonnie would need to be warned to know how to tell Sarah, who would be expecting her Auntie Duzy! They would all need to know that it could be a temporary change of personality, but Chang had confided to him that he had seen it happen and be permanent; and even worse, that it could manifest itself into multiple personalities in certain situations.

Kid walked over to the bed and looked down and smiled as he thought of her actions as Duzy and Josie, and wished he could take her with him to Mount Sopris, to let her live as Josie, to have her by his side and take care of her; he wanted her whether she was Duzy or Josie, unfortunately, so did Jake!

[Firelands-The Beginning]

 

Linn Keller 5-16-08

 

Tom Landers eased his weight off his left leg. It had been broken some ten years before, and it never failed to faithfully remind him of that long-ago event, generally when the weather turned.
The weather was turning.
Mr. Baxter had just returned to his station, having installed a new keg of beer downstairs, where it was cool. The Jewel had a well deserved reputation for quality, and Mr. Baxter was one good reason they'd earned that reputation.
Morning Star approached him, eyes down and moving with all the noise and fuss of a passing cloud. She still never smiled, but she seemed less terrified, somehow; Tom knew the look of fear in someone's eyes, and it had long bothered him that Morning Star lived with that look. It had diminished since she'd started at the Jewel, and to his knowledge the only time anyone had even tried to mishandle her, the Sheriff had stepped in and put a hard stop to the situation.
Tom Landers smiled at the memory. He'd done as much, when he was still Sheriff.
I wouldn't have minded educating that riff-raff, he thought, but it's kind of nice to set back and watch someone else do the work!
Morning Star handed him a steaming mug of coffee.
Tom Landers accepted the mug and sniffed it, smiling.
Life was good.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Charlie MacNeil 5-15-08

 

Alton Parker was a vengeful man. Many self-important men are, because they can't conceive of anyone or anything besting them in any way. When the vagaries of fortune swing away from them it is always someone else's fault, never their own. Parker was no different.

The news that MacNeil had been shot had come to the Marshal's office in very short order. At the same time, the rumor that he had been killed surfaced as well. Parker viewed such news as a golden opportunity and managed to convince himself, and the rest of the office staff, that it was not a rumor but the truth. He had already managed to skim a goodly amount of cash from the office's operating funds, and the demise of the new marshal was almost too much of a good thing. Now Parker would have free rein, at least until a new marshal could be appointed. The sudden appearance of MacNeil was a shock of earthshaking magnitude. And Parker's firing was not to be excused.

Parker was now hunkered down in the mouth of an alley near the restaurant Charlie and Ozzie had gone to for lunch.

Charlie and Ozzie strolled nonchalantly down the street toward the Marshal's office. Charlie was watching those who passed both on foot and horseback around him as a matter of course and he was happy to see that Ozzie was equally as vigilant.

Ahead was a narrow alley that they had passed on their way to the restaurant. There had been no tracks in the loose dirt in the mouth of the alley when they went down, but now there was a set of tracks leading into it. Ozzie glanced at them and shrugged mentally. Anyone could have made those tracks. Nothing to worry about. Until he heard a sudden rustling in the alley and a muted clicking sound.

Ozzie dropped his shoulder and rammed it into Charlie's ribs, bowling him off his feet and rolling him into the dirt as a loud boom echoed off of the buildings. Charlie heard a high keening cry and two pistol shots. He rolled to his feet with his own gun in his hand in time to see Alton Parker drop a short-barreled shotgun into the dirt and fall on top of it. A reddish stain was spreading on the front of his tailored white shirt as he collapsed.

Ozzie was down in the dirt as well. The left shoulder of his coat was shredded and sodden with blood and his breath was whistling through clenched teeth but the barrel of the Smith & Wesson never wavered from Parker's corpse.

Charlie holstered his gun and knelt at the young man's side. "He's dead, Ozzie," he said. "You can put the gun away now." Ozzie turned his face toward Charlie. His was ghostly white and his eyes were wide. He nodded once, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fainted dead away...

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 5-15-08

 

Mr. Baxter drove Nellie back toward Firelands, a quiet smile on his face, the wind cooling his pomaded scalp where he'd parted his hair squarely down the middle. Most men his age fretted about their scalp "poking up above the timber line" but Mr. Baxter's thatch remained thick, and rich, and neatly combed. His black mustache, waxed into a full and villainous handlebar, might have looked like an affecation on a lesser man; Mr. Baxter was, however, not a lesser man. Square across the shoulders and retaining the tapered waist of his equestrian youth, he remained a good-looking man, well built, with a good natured, genial disposition that softened what could be a formidable appearance.
Nellie was content to travel at a slow trot, and Mr. Baxter was content to let Nellie set her own pace. He'd petted her and curried her and chided her for getting soft and fat there in the livery; Shorty, rasping a hoof in an adjacent stall, chuckled quietly to himself, listening to the barkeep.
He smelled, briefly, the odor of molasses-cured chawin' tobacker, and he knew Mr. Baxter had just offered Nellie a handful.
Good for her, Shorty thought. Kills worms.
Mr. Baxter drove leisurely up the alley and onto the main street, and drew up in front of the bank with a quiet "Ho," and Nellie ho'd.
Mr. Baxter smiled. He'd just picked a small handful of nuggets out of his favorite streambed, and idly panned a tablespoon full of flakes.
"Nellie," he murmured, stopping to pat the mare's neck, "this isn't the only reason I enjoy our little drives in the country, but it's certainly one of them!"
Nellie blew and nodded as if she understood perfectly.
Mr. Baxter went inside and deposited his funds.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Lady Leigh 5-15-08

 

Bonnie was beginning to think her in laws were not going to be coming to Firelands afterall. Though the thought made her feel guilty at times, she still relished in not having to face them. Their delay in Chicago calmed Bonnie to no end.

Bonnie had just finished nursing the girls, and it was late in the night. Sleep wasn't always easy to return to after the mid night feedings and on such a night, Bonnie was rocking by the fire. With shawl tucked tight around her shoulders and her head leaning back against the high backed rocker, Bonnie thought .....

Caleb assured her the family was not angry at Bonnie for her insistance on staying in Firelands. He also assured her they could never be angry at her for the loss of their son. Bonnie accepted his words .... but there was still the nagging thought tugging at her brain that when her husbands family came, with them would come a hardship. Though Bonnie could not pin point the feeling, she still struggled with the thoughts.

She, too, asked questions on if they stayed in Illinois would their son be alive ... maybe had they stayed, she wouldn't have gone into premature labor ...

But had they not stayed in Firelands, she would not have Opal ... that subject alone pulled her into many directions. James ..... Bonnie wondered at the secrecy of his being alive for so many years .... anger .... yes, Bonnie still experienced anger over that. Chen-chi .... so many questions. Wondering what the whole story was behind her brother and sister-in-law. Oh ... She knew just what James wanted her to know ... which wasn't all that much, truth be told. Bonnie re-read the letter James sent with Chen-chi often .... so many times, in fact, the letter resembled an ancient writing. The paper was tearing at the folds, it was crumbling at its corners and it had an aged appearance due to the many fallen tears. His words of someone coming to tell her the whole story ... two people knew, he said.

"I wish I knew, James ..... the answers are long overdue ...."

"Mama?" Bonnie jumped at the sound of Sarah's young voice.

"Sarah? What are you doing up? Are you OK?"

"Yes ...."

Sarah climbed up onto Bonnie's lap and rest her cornsilk blond hair against Bonnie's chest, "What is it sweetheart?"

"Just couldn't sleep, and Twain Dawg said I should come downstairs as he said you were rocking."

Bonnie smiled, "He told you that did he?"

" Well .... not exactly, Mama, but just in case you got angry at me for not being in bed, I thought it would be best to have a scrapecoat."

A chuckle escaping Bonnie, "I think you mean a scapegoat, and no, darling, I would not be angry at you for coming down."

"Good! I didn't think so, but .... you know .... just in case. Besides, when I told Twain Dawg to come with me, he just huffed and put his head back down on the floor."

Dear God in Heaven, how Bonnie loved this child!

"Mama? When is Auntie Duzy coming back home?"

"I've been thinking that same question, Sarah .... but I just don't know. I am hoping she sends a letter soon to let us know how long she is going to be away."

Sarah continued to sit there, both Bonnie and Sarah quiet ... just listening to the night time sounds. AS time ventured on, they both fell asleep. Sarah's head resting against Bonnie's chest, and Bonnie's cheek resting against the top of Sarah's head ..... That is how Caleb found the two a few hours later.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Duzy Wales 5-15-08

 

Josie could wear the young man’s black button fly britches, fitting snug across her hips. The black hat and boots fit nicely too. She had three changes of clothes, and a black duster, much more than she had hoped for and had slept in the young man’s room instead of the barn.

Mary’s husband, James, had found a buyer for her jewelry and had been kind enough to let her ride into town with him, just after hugging Mary goodbye and thanking them for their hospitality. She had hugged little Jamie too and thought of Sarah again.

Josie found she recognized Saint Louis somewhat and found a game at the Lindell Hotel. Hearing footsteps as she placed another bet, she looked up as Kid pulled back a chair at the poker table. He tipped his hat and smiled. “Can anyone join this game?”

“If you can make the bet,” Josie said and smiled right back at him. Somehow, she didn’t feel like he was an ordinary lawman…..no there was something more he wanted, something more he was after, but what was it?

Josie loved a challenge, and her brown eye sparkled as she took in his body, leaving his eyes and going down and then back up again and was delighted to find him still watching her and still smiling as he dropped the gold coins on the table. “I’m in.”

A few hours later, as Josie was raking her money across the table, Kid said, “Have you ever played at the Silver Jewel? You are good, you know.”

“No, can’t say I remember the place. This was the first place I came to, well after reaching town that is. If you recommend it, I will try it. That is, after I replace my Colts. I still feel lost without ‘em, you know, like I’m not completely dressed.”

An image of Duzy running in her bloomers and catching the train came to his mind….

“Speaking of Colts, I think I know where you can find them.”

“Mine?” Josie asked, and her eyes looked like coal, burning coal for a second, as she waited for his answer.

“May be yours, you would have to identify them before I could be sure.”

“Where can I see them?”

“I brought what I could find of yours from Marshville, they are in my room.” Kid said, hoping he could get her out of public view and find out what the hell had happened to Duzy! Hell and damnation, what a mess! How was he supposed to get her back to Firelands like this?

“No thanks, I will find them eventually.” Josie answered, not falling for his tactic to get her to his room.

“If they are yours, you deserve to have them. Everything happened so fast in Marshville, you didn’t have time to see the things you left there. I will bring them down. I see your watch is gone and your pearl earrings, why didn’t you sell the ring?”

“My husband gave it to me, I couldn’t part with it.”

“What was his name Josie?”

“Names ain’t important, lawman, now, please excuse me?”

“Not yet!” And then Kid pulled Josie to him, holding her against him tightly, and kissed her like he had in the cemetery, as he felt her lean in closer and return the kiss.

“Looks like you two got cozy mighty quick,” Jake said, causing the two to break the kiss and make Josie wonder why these men always seemed at odds with each other?

“What’s the matter, Marshall Thomas, you jealous?” And then Josie surprised Jake by walking up and planting a kiss on his lips.

“Hmmm, well you both can kiss, how well can you shoot?” Josie flipped one of her gold coins and said, “wanta’ bet I can outshoot both of you?”

“I’m in,” they both stated, looking at each other as if they had just met and wanted to prove which was the best.

“Where is the Silver Jewel? I need a place to work. Do you think I could run a table there? Would they hire a woman? Or let a woman play the tables?”

“Firelands, Colorado. I think they would hire you or let you play. We are headed that way, would you like to do some traveling?” Kid asked, smiling.

“Ain’t got nothing better to do, but I want to look at those Colts first.” Josie said, as Kid pointed the way and she walked in front, both men watching the sway of her hips in the men’s britches.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Duzy Wales 5-15-08

 

Josie tumbled down the bank, after jumping off the train, on the outskirts of Saint Louis, having seen a house nearby, one with a clothesline full of freshly washed clothes swaying in the wind. Quickly, she found her bundle and pulled her clothes on, straightening her hair by running her fingers through it, trying to look as presentable as possible. Holding her head high, she walked to the front door of the house and knocked. A woman, holding a baby on one hip, and the hand of a small boy, came to the door.

“Howdy Ma’am, I am sorry to bother you; I just came in from Marshville and I lost most everything in the storm. I am in need of a few things and I thought if you could use some help……I don’t have any money, but I would be willing to work for a pair of those britches on the line, or I could wash this skirt and trade it if you like it.

The lady looked at Josie’s skirt and could see herself wearing it to church. It had been a long time since she had the time to sew for herself. “You poor thing, I heard that was a terrible storm, come on in and have some coffee and there are biscuits and ham left on the stove.

I have these pearl earrings to swap too if you have a hat and some boots that would fit, don’t matter if they are old as long as they have good soles. These thin soles hurt after walking a ways. The lady looked at the nice kid leather boots and wondered why she wanted to trade nice clothes and jewelry for men’s clothes.

I will need a place to sleep for a night or two, the barn will be fine if’n you don’t mind me using it. I have kinfolk’s hereabouts, but I will have to find them, and the city looks big, I am not quite sure where to start!” Josie said as she downed one ham biscuit and almost reached for another. “The lady smiled and reached out her hand saying, my name is Mary, and please have another biscuit, have as many as you can eat and another cup of coffee too. “Thank you kindly, my name is Josie.”

Josie took a deep breath for the first time after jumping on the train. It looked as if she had chosen the right place, knowing the law would be looking for her to get off the train, not to mention the two handsome lawmen and the Shaman, who she didn’t doubt were closing in fast!

Did those men really think she fell for that story? Mistaken for a twin? No, she didn’t believe a word of it! But, she hadn’t wanted to kill him, a mistake she wouldn’t make again. She had never pulled her knife without using it! And then, he had given her a way out, a way to walk away, they all three had….

Could they really know her from somewhere? Josie had been thinking on the train and thought she must have hit her head during the storm, as she couldn’t remember much of her past, even her last name! Josie tried to think back to when she could have met….

“Hell, no need to figure out the past, when you have to fix the here and now Josie!” She admonished herself.

Mary came back in the room holding a stack of clothing. “These were my oldest boy’s clothes, he up and left one day and I haven’t heard a word since, said he was going to dig for gold and would be back with all the money we could use. I wish I hadn’t told him how foolish he was being.” One big tear ran down the side of her face.

“I lost my husband to the war, but remarried and had these two little ones; he works in town and maybe he can find a buyer for your earrings and that watch pinned to your blouse.” Josie looked down at the watch like it was the first time she had seen it. She had noticed the pretty ring she was wearing and had stashed it for the time being, not wanting to take the chance of losing everything at once.

The little boy walked up and said, “You sure are pretty.” Josie looked at the blond hair of the boy, and remembered a little girl with blond hair named Sarah, but couldn’t place where she was or where she knew her from…..just Sarah.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Charlie MacNeil 5-14-08

 

Charlie and Smithers sat across from each other at a round table in the back of the room. A cold beer sat on the the table in front of each man. "All right," Charlie said. "Let's hear it."

"Hear what, sir?" Smithers asked.

Charlie looked all around the room. "I don't see my Pa anywhere in the room," he said with a smile. "I told you to call me Charlie."

Smithers took a deep breath. "It was actually a little over a year ago," he began. "For whatever reason, two men mistook me for someone with money." He looked off into the distance for a moment then shook himself. "When I tried to convince them I didn't have any, they took exception to my explanation and decided that I was too impoverished to be allowed to live, or something equally as asinine. They shot at me, I shot back, they went down, I came through unscathed. Somehow."

"So why were you still an office boy instead of wearing a badge like I just gave you?" Charlie asked.

"Because Mister Parker wanted it that way. He tends to have an aversion to promoting those who might turn out to be either smarter or more talented than he. And as I said earlier, I need the salary. I have ailing parents, and their medications take all I can make." He sighed. "I've tried my hand at other occupations, but this one paid the best."

"Fair enough," Charlie said. "Consider your salary increased." Smithers gave him a startled look. "Any man who can put up with that weasel Parker for that long without shooting his scrawny butt is my hero." He stuck out his hand, and Smithers took it in a strong, confident grip. "Besides which, I'm not going to be here all the time. I need somebody to fill in for me when I'm gone. Are you interested?"

"Absolutely," Smithers said without hesitation.

"Good," Charlie said. "We'll make it official when we get back to the office. But for now, let's eat. Oh and by the way, what do you like to be called? I can't just keep calling you Smithers."

"My parents call me Ozzie," Smithers answered.

Some time later the two men left the restaurant and turned toward the office, confident that all was right with their world. For Charlie, it was the satisfaction of having left his mark on his new office. For Ozzie, it was an overwhelming sense of gratitude that someone had finally recognized that he was a man and not some faceless drone there only to do the master's bidding. But all was not totally right with the world after all…