[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-7-07

 

Firecracker Mel looked out her window. She had a room facing away from the street, as she'd requested; she looked over the livery stable, and the prairie behind the town, and off to her left was the church.
She'd taken the train from West Texas as far as it would go. Firelands was the last railhead. From here it would be horseback half a hundred miles to her cousin's ranch, which to a Texan was a pleasant afternoon's jaunt. Especially, she thought, on Rey del Sol, the King of the Sun, her favorite mount, an Arabian stallion that no man could ride.
She smiled at the thought.
Rey del Sol. A good name for him, she thought, almost blond, golden in the sunlight, with a short temper and a mean disposition toward the world in general; she and her two favorite hands, Eduardo and Santos, were the only ones that could ride him.
Eduardo and Santos. Her father's best friend's sons and most trusted by the Grand Old Man, and as dear to her as brothers.
Most trusted, that is, besides their father, who was her father's best friend for more years than Mel had been on this earth.
Shorty had a wagon at the depot when the train came in; the Irish firefighters and their flashy new steam wagon had drawn every eye, and nobody paid attention to Shorty driving the wagon, and luggage, a lady and a vaquero to the hotel; nobody noticed the other vaquero riding a palomino and leading another, a pack horse, and a high-spirited golden stallion.
Shorty had a way with horses of all kinds, and even he had some difficulty persuading the great golden stallion to trust him; after the king stallion tried a couple tentative bites, missing partly due to Shorty's extensive experience, and mostly from Shorty's good luck, he deigned to permit the hostler to groom him, and check his hooves, and pour some grain.
He did manage to reach behind Shorty and, biting the dangling end of his apron string, pulled it loose.
There was a quiet tap on Mel's door. "Senorita?" Eduardo called.
"Si, viene."
Eduardo opened the door. "Su fusil, senorita."
"Gracias, Eduardo."
Eduardo placed her Winchester on the bed, and four boxes of shells. Mel nodded.
"Tienes bastante?" she asked.
"Si, gracias." Eduardo hesitated. "Senorita, el patron -- your father -- would be most displeased if you came to harm. This fight is not yours. We can be well away before morning."
Firecracker Mel smiled. "Eduardo, my friend, your words are true as your heart, but I will not run. I intend to have a good night's rest in a decent bed, something I have not had since leaving Texas. I shall have a bath and a meal and I shall go to church tomorrow. I am told the Ruby Room opens in but a few days, and I shall have a fine meal there, with you on my left and Santos on my right, and we will sleep well that night, and leave the morning after."
"Si, senorita." Eduardo knew both Melanie Sharp's temper -- a Sharp temper, they often joked -- but also her legendary stubbornness, honestly inherited from her father, owner of one of the most profitable ranches in West Texas.
Eduardo walked over to the window. "Nos caballos -- the horses -- they will strike at the livery, and they will seek to steal our horses, and the others as well."
Eduardo looked at Melanie, and saw fire deep in her Scottish blue eyes.
"Let them try," she said quietly.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-7-07

Bigfoot and I headed for the Sheriff's office. The firemen were returning to their tall, narrow horse house, again; the street was muddy, the three-horse hitch tired, the Irishmen were grinning and laughing.
"Energetic bunch," Bigfoot observed.
"They're young. I was that way when I was their age."
Bigfoot looked at me, amusement in his eye, and with a perfectly straight face he asked, "You were young once?"
We laughed together at that one. I hailed Charlie and Jake. Bigfoot was kind enough to repeat for them what he'd told me, and we four discussed the situation: probable route of advance, ambush points, numbers; we kicked it around for a while and decided Charlie's original idea was still the best: sucker them into our trap and slaughter them, for slaughter it would be. With riflemen waiting on the rooftops, firing points from behind sandbagged emplacements, we would have both the high ground and the advantage of preparation.
I have no stomach for slaughter, but I have no tolerance for those who would seek to slaughter me or mine. In case of a tie, they lose.
"What is today?" Bigfoot asked.
"Why, it's Saturday," Jake replied.
"Sunday tomorrow," I muttered.
"How's that?"
"Parson wants me to give the guest sermon tomorrow."
Jake grinned broadly. "Then I shall be there with my boots polished, for I wish to see just what you're going to do THIS time!" We laughed together about that one, and Charlie and Jake interrupted one another happily, filling Bigfoot in on my last presentation from the pulpit.
I frowned, looked into the jail. "You got Sam and Higgins safely on the train?"
"Yep. Friend of mine received them and they're on their way to trial right now."
"Shame that crooked Carsey got plugged. He'd make a fine witness."
"We've got my auditor's report," Charlie smiled. "He's uncovered enough to hang 'em three times over."
"Sopris knows they're on their way?"
"Sent him a telegram at the S.C.O.L.D. contact. He'll get it in plenty of time. If he doesn't, someone will take care of it for him."
"I don't doubt that," I agreed. "Bigfoot, what say we go talk to Daisy, see where she wants that meat you got all smoked up and ready."
Bigfoot thumped me across the back with a hand that would span half the county if he stretched it out, and I stumbled and nearly fell. The man was impressive with a companionable gesture. He would be formidable indeed in a tight spot.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Duzy Wales 9-7-07

 

Duzy was restless again and needed to ride. The things she and Aunt Esther had talked about had given her much to think about……

The much needed talk had gone well. Duzy had explained how she felt. Aunt Esther had taken it all in. Having known love twice now, Esther knew the feelings Duzy was describing; however, she thought Duzy needed to go much slower and figure out exactly what she wanted in the man she would share her life with. Aunt Esther understood the stirrings of her body, the need to be fulfilled, touched, kissed, made love to, and knew those feelings could be from curiosity and the natural needs of a woman, and that she could have these feelings with someone she felt comfortable with, but not based on the kind of love that Duzy desired in her heart. Therefore, she felt Duzy needed more experience around different men to see how she reacted to them mentally and physically, saving herself until she was sure it was the kind of love her Mama and Papa had shared, which was what Duzy had dreamed of.

Aunt Esther also realized Jake Thomas had not lied Duzy, but he had not been forthcoming about his life either, not giving Duzy any of the details, but knowing Jake, he was probably caught in the middle of something and couldn’t tell Duzy anything without betraying confidences! Esther made a mental note to see if Jake planned on continuing his present career. If so, she didn’t think Jake would be right for Duzy, as Duzy needed a man there with her fulltime, as she knew Duzy would want to share their lives and not be waiting at home, wondering when or if he would return! She would want her children to have a Papa who was a daily part of their lives.

Shorty had Edi waiting for Duzy, and cautioned her to be careful, adding that perhaps Jacob should ride with her. Duzy needed to be alone in her thoughts and, smiling; she thanked Shorty for his concern, but declined, saying she wouldn’t go too far.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Duzy Wales 9-7-07

Jake Thomas had talked to Marshall MacNeil, accepting his position as interim Deputy, while confiding in him that he would soon need to return to Washington, for a short stay, but would wait until the imminent danger was over. He needed to find Kid Sopris to share information on his dealings with Luke Hawkins, and he was also planning to turn in his resignation to President Hayes.

Jake had decided he was ready to settle down and wanted to court Duzy in a gentlemanly way, without the intrigue, that went with his current position. Jake wished to ask Aunt Esther for her permission to take Duzy on picnics, buggy rides, and romantic dinners, dancing, and riding together, to explore the countryside. He hoped someday to share in everything in her life, as it seemed the bug had bitten him badly!

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-7-07

"Thank'ee kindly for that word. I knew they were somewhere but not quite where, and that's a bit sooner than I reckoned they'd arrive." I rubbed my chin. "As far as the meat, that will be most welcome! I reckon Daisy will be tickled to pay you good money for it."
There was the crack of a whip, hoofbeats that reached to a gallop, the jingle of trace-chains, the scream of a steam whistle, a bell, children shouting and stout Irish oaths, all at the same time.
Bigfoot looked toward the commotion, an expression of patient amusement on his face.
"If she's not in the kitchen, just look for that biggest red shirted Irishman. She's engaged to be married."
"Do tell?" Bigfoot replied mildly. "The fellow works fast, doesn't he?"

[Firelands-The Beginning]

William A.A. Wallace

"Reverend Belden? Hmmm...well met, Sir", Bigfoot Wallace said as he offered his outstretched hand to the new preacher. The Reverend Belden found his hand engulfed in a man's hand that was as large as a grizzly bear's paw! Reverend Belden thought to himself, "He's nearly as large as a grizzly bear himself!", but thought better of mentioning it out loud.

Wallace released his grip and turned to the Sheriff. "Sheriff Keller, it seems that my friend Preacher Sopris has given you fair warning as to the outlaws that are camped out there. They are an unruly bunch and looks like they're itching for a fight. I found their camp near a stand of cottonwood trees about a half days ride north of the town. After sneaking in and listening to their conversations and watching their preparations, I would imagine that they plan on attacking the town within the next couple of days. I'm here to warn you folks and offer my assistance. I also have a cache of smoked meats that I need to sell to whomever in town has needs of them. There's smoked trout, venison and some wild hog as well as some pheasent and quail. Probably about 200 pounds of meat and it's smoked and cured so it won't spoil."

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-7-07

 

Dawg groaned in pure, unadulterated bliss. His chin hung over the edge of the wooden tub, warm water relaxed his massive muscles, and the busy pink fingers of a busy little girl worked sweet smelling soap suds into his thick black fur.
Sarah had set about giving Dolly a bath. She'd taken advantage of the wooden tub half filled with water on the back porch, shaved in a quarter of a cake of soap, threw in two handsful of bath salts and a tea kettle of hot water -- she'd dragged the stool over to the cast iron stove to get it, and had to stretch a little, but she got it -- and heated up some more water, like a big girl. The tub was pleasantly warm when she swirled it vigorously to make suds, then stuck in her little pink finger to check the temperature.
By this time the soap suds were deeper than her finger was long, so she ended up running her finger into the water up to her elbow.
Dolly was first in the tub. Sarah scrubbed her slick, glazed porcelain face, then her hair, then her clothes; she hung Dolly by one foot from the porch rail, as she could not reach the clothes line.
Dawg came up on the porch to say hello.
Delighted, Sarah persuaded him to jump in the tub.
Most of the soap suds jumped out in the minor tidal wave that followed.
Sarah squealed with delight and began working the warm, soapy water into Dawg's fur.

Bonnie came around the house, looking for Sarah, and heard her chattering happily with Dawg, and saw Dawg's muzzle hanging over the edge of the tub, a great crown of soap suds on top of his massive black furred head, and a happy little girl who was almost as wet as her contented customer.
Sarah looked at Bonnie and laughed. "Look, Mama! Dawg needed a bath!"
Bonnie was dismayed for a moment; she'd planned to do some washing, and so had the tub of water waiting on the back porch, but she had not the heart to scold a happy little girl who was so obviously pleased with herself.
Dawg sighed.
Life was very, very good.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-7-07

 

I let Rose have her head and she settled into an easy gallop. She headed back toward town, and I laid plans.
It's a good thing Rose had her head about her, for I was so busy thinking about the future I didn't notice we'd come around behind the church, and Rose was slowing.
"Ho, girl," I murmured, and she ho'd. I squinted up toward the bell tower and saw the barrel of a Sharps.
Now I'm not the smartest man in the world, but I was willing to bet the Parson was upstairs looking things over, so I hailed him: "Parson, what do you see?"
"I see a fool on a horse, perilously close to where I nearly turned loose," Parson Belden sang back, leaning over the edge.
Something big moved at the edge of my vision, and I turned, and Bigfoot Wallace stood up from nowhere. I blinked in surprise. Didn't bother Rose any.
Now I've seen men hide, and hide well, and I've been jumped at and ambushed a time or three, but never in my entire life have I seen a man stand up from nowhere a'tall, let alone someone Bigfoot's size. He genuinely startled me.
He was also grinning broadly at my expression.
"How'd you do that?" I blurted.
"It comes natural, I reckon," he replied, then sobered. "Lookin' for the Reverend Sopris."
"He's around, but I honestly don't know where," I said. "Turns out he's not just a sky pilot, he's an agent sent here to keep an eye on things."
Bigfoot nodded. He'd known there was more to the man than met the eye. He also knew he liked the man, and respected him greatly, and had come to trust him. Like me, he wasn't a man to give his trust lightly.
"There's some outlaws nearby sound like they're planning to raid the town here."
I nodded. "Last I heard from Sopris, they numbered near to thirty or so. Dirty bunch, undisciplined, only one natural leader in the group. They figure to kill who they can, run off the rest and burn the town so there's nothin' to come back to." I considered a moment. "Whereabouts are they, and how armed?"
Bigfoot's eyes were on the horizon. Ever a watchful man, his vision was outward, even when turned inward. His outer eye took in his surroundings, while his inner eye saw the Jewel, and how it had improved, and the ladies, and his big hands slowly balled into fists.
The door to the church opened. Reverend Belden came out with the Sharps over the crook of his arm and his hand extended.
"Bigfoot Wallace," I introduced, "this is the Reverend Belden, our sky pilot."

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Lady Leigh 9-7-07

 

"But I want to go to school!"

"You'll be there by yourself, Sarah! School has been cancelled for a little while." Bonnie was trying to reason with Sarah.

"For how long?"

"I don't know, Sarah. Hopefully not long."

"Well, Mama, how did Sheriff Keller find out about this," Sarah moved her arems up and out into the air, as if describing a bomb. "Mama, we were doing fun things at school! We were learning was that made it easy to learn adding the numbers together ..."

"Come here Sarah," Sarah walked over to her Mother and climbed up on her lap, "Let's read this togther."

Sarah place her finger over each letter while sounding out the words, "T..O..M..S..A..Y..E..R..," she looked up at Bonnie, "Tom Sayer? WHo's that?"

"It's a book about a boy ... maybe just a little older than you, who has a very good imagination. It a good book, Sarah. I believe you will like it! I thought we could read it together .. maybe a little of it everyday?"

Sarah opened the book and paged through it, "There aren't very many pictures ..."

"No, but this where the man that wrote this book .... Mark Twain is his name ... is an expert at painting a picture in our minds with the words he wrote ..."

"May I come in and interupt?" Caleb was at the open dorr way of the house. He actually stood there for some time before he knocked on the door jamb to announce himself. The sight he saw was pure bliss with Sarah perched up on Bonnie's lap, both heads turned over the book.

"Sure, Mr Rosenthal! You are in time to listen to this book Mama bought! It's about a boy with magination."

"I over heard a little of what you Mother said ... actiually, would you mind if I started reading it out loud?"

Caleb took the book from Sarahs outstretched hands, opened it, and began reading. Sarah wasn't the only one enchanted by his readiing, boonie was, too.

"Esther was right," Bonnie thought, "I need to work on myself."


After an hour or so of reading, Bonnie sent Sarah off their bedroom so that she and Caleb could talk. "Caleb, do we really know what is going on? I mean, is the Sheriff convinced there is trouble coming?"

"I don't really know more than you do, Bonnie .."

"I just want it over with, Caleb! I want to get back to living! Get back to working the shop ... to get it's doors open. Duzy was saying the same thing. SHe just wants to get the Silver Jewel open."

Caleb reached out and put his hand over Bonnie's. At first Bonnie's reaction was jerking the hand away, but Calebs touch was heavy on her handm but gentle, too. "Bonnie, I would like all of this to be over with to ..."

Bonnie looked at his eyes, maybe she was reading into them something that wasn't there as she had thought.

Caleb, too, noticed a change in Bonnie this morning ... a good change.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-6-07

 

The doors swung open easily on new, greased hinges, and the three veteran fire horses danced in their harness. They did one thing well, and they loved doing it, and that was drawing a fully-loaded steam fire truck at a gallop.
Sean stood, reins in his left hand, as he always did. The driver's seat was comfortable, and mounted on springs, but Sean disdained to sit, preferring the slight advantage he had when standing. Besides, he reasoned, he cut a fine figure for the ladies, standing as he did.
He gave the reins a flick and the three matched mares leaned into their harness and brought the rig out of the newly built horse house.
Sean looked over his left shoulder, his right. His lads were all on board, grinning.
Sean uncoiled the blacksnake whip, spun it overhead, popping it three feet above the horses' heads.
With the whip's sound of a pistol shot, the three mares thrust hard into their collars. The gleaming apparatus with its half-dozen red-shirted, leather-helmeted Cincinnati firefighters accelerated at an astonishing rate, and they were at a full gallop, headed down the dirt street. The Russian Irishman yanked the bell lanyard, the Welsh Irishman gave the whistle lanyard an experimental tug, children shouted and ran along behind, and they shouted and laughed their way to a fast stop in front of Ruby's Room. Sean set the brake while the German Irishman landed on all fours, seizing the end of the coupler. The Welsh Irishman yanked the valve handle, reached up and rapped the pressure gauge with a knuckle and began feeding the boiler. Nozzles were seized, two hose lines stretched at a run and doubled back. The Russian Irishman and the English Irishman yelled "READY!" and Sean roared, "Gi'em some water, lad!" and the steam pump began to hiss and shake, and valves pounded, and the hoses swelled, and water shot in shining arcs from the gleaming brass nozzles.
They drilled several more times that day, always to the same spot in front of Ruby's Room, the only place in town they could connect to a sizable water source. Anyone in town who was not otherwise occupied watched the spectacle.

Rose o' the Morning danced under me as we watched six Irish firefighters make their first run up the street. Admittedly, I don't know a single solitary about running one of those steam buggies, but these fellows apparently did, and by the look of it, they'd done this a number of times. There is a smoothness that comes with working together and a confidence that makes a complex task look easy. These fellows had both.
Rose and I turned and headed out of town.
I'd hoped to catch Esther during her morning ride, but hadn't gotten out as early as I wanted. It was well late in the morning -- probably too late, I thought, but I honestly didn't care. It was good to get a saddle under my backside again.
Esther must have had the same idea, for she came my way at a gallop. Duzy's mare loved to run, and Esther loved to run her, and Rose and I slowed and stopped, and I leaned up in the saddle a little and admired Esther's ride.
Her cheeks were flushed as she reined up. I swept off my hat.
"Miz Esther, you do make a fine sight this morning," I greeted her.
"As do you, Mr. Keller," she replied. "I see Mick found you."
I patted Rose's neck. "Aye, he did that!"
"How do you like her?"
"She's fast," I admitted, "and it's been so long since I'd ridden anything but Sam, I'd forgotten how fast a good cutting horse can turn!"
Esther smiled. "Please tell me you didn't find out the hard way!"
I laughed. "No, no, I kept my seat, but it did surprise me!"
Her mare, Edi, chewed at her bit and danced a bit. Her blood was up and she wanted to run some more.
"Esther, I may owe you an apology," I said carefully, feeling like I was walking out on a newly frozen lake and not knowing how thick the ice was. Esther tilted her head a little, giving me those lovely eyes.
Mein Gott, I thought, what a fine woman!
"Esther, I said for you to give thought to the dress you wished to be married in, and to where you wished me to propose to you. I may have overstepped myself, and for that I am truly sorry."
Esther tried to hide a smile. She pursed her lips slightly, and looked down.
The she looked back up.
"I have selected my dress," she said, her hair shining auburn in the morning sun, "and we will be opening Ruby's Room very soon. On opening night, when we will have the whole town there in their finest, with the very best meal prepared, with lamps lit and music playing, I will accept your proposal of marriage."
"Then I shall give it there, on bended knee, as a gentleman should when proposing to a lady."
She almost looked sad, for a moment, and she said softly, "I wish Papa were here. He would approve of you, and he would have loved having brandy and cigars with you."
I nodded. "If it were up to me, I would have you put on your finest dress right now and we would take the steam train to a place I know, and we would be married before we left Firelands. I would carry you onto a steamboat and I would shower you with luxury, and we would dine on fine china tonight, and we would tour the great river and the cities of its confluences." I took a long breath. "If it were up to me. I don't believe the town would forgive us if we weren't married here, with our friends and family beside us and in the church with us."
"No, they would not forgive us," she murmured.
"Thank you, Esther," I said simply. "You are looking at a happy man."
"And you are looking at a happy woman."
The shrill sound of a steam whistle shivered in the distance.
"Sounds like your wild Irishmen are working hard," Esther nodded. "Are they all you hoped for?"
"Well, they look good so far, and their steam buggy throws water," replied, turning Rose so we both faced toward town, "and I really, really hope I've given a half dozen men an expensive vacation and bought the town a steam engine they will never have to actually use."
Esther's expression was haunted, remembering a fire in her past. "I hope so, too," she whispered.
I looked at her, beside me, mounted astride and as regal as any queen on a throne.
I reached out my hand.
She took it.
We sat there a long time, holding hands, at least until Edi and Rose got tired of just standing there.
"Daisy," Esther said, as the thought came to her. "Daisy is to be married also, I take it."
"So I gather," I replied, "though just when, I'm not sure. They haven't said."
"Your Irishman -- Sean, is that his name? -- is a full-blooded and passionate man. I should imagine he'll want to be married yesterday if not sooner."
I nodded. "Bonnie counseled them to get used to the idea that they were both alive, first."
"Wise girl." Esther thought for a moment. "Who will run the restaurant? I'm sure Sean won't want to stay out here in the howling wilderness."
"We'll worry about that tomorrow, Esther. It'll work out. Fear not, I don't think the Ruby Room will be losing its chief-cook-and-quartermaster just yet."
Esther gave me a look that would melt the heart of a stone statue.
"Until later, my dear?" I asked.
"Until later, my dear."
I nodded, smiling. Rose began walking toward town.
She could have been crow-hopping every step of the way. I'd never have felt it.
I was flying.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

William A.A. Wallace 9-6-07

 

Bigfoot was perplexed...hearing a small door open above him, he remained very still in the shadows...moving ever so slightly to get a better vantage to see up to the bell tower with his excellent hawk-like vision he hears a voice..."Can I help you, brother?"

Knowing it to not be the voice of his friend Preacher Sopris, Wallace was hesitant to answer. But the voice spoke in the tone of one that ministers to others and he answered back, "I have urgent information for Preacher Sopris...I am Bigfoot Wallace, a personal friend of the Preacher's...who might you be and where can I find him?"

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-6-07

 

The half dozen Irish firefighters did nothing quietly, or by half measures.
They ripped up a section of board walk squarely in front of Ruby's Room in order to get access to the sizeable cistern underneath. They installed a length of hard-suction hose, replaced the boardwalk -- improving it considerably in the process -- and then helped the soldiers lay out the dimensions for their temporary quarters. They'd modified the factory-new engine to accept a three-horse hitch.
"It's called a troika," Sean boomed, "at least that's what Piotor calls it." Piotor looked up and grinned, then went back to measuring and cutting lumber. "Piotor's from Georgia. Not the one the Yankees marched through, the one over in Europe somewhere."
"Russia," Piotor said briefly through a mouthful of nails.
"Aye, that's right. Russia! Piotor is our Russian Irishman!"
Jacob looked puzzled. "A Russian Irishman?"
"Aye, lad!" Sean wrapped his huge arm around Jacob's slender shoulders and gestured. "George yonder is an English Irishman. God'll forgive him f'r that. Dutch here is a German Irishman." He pointed to each in turn; each waved if his hands weren't full of lumber or hammer or saw, and each at least nodded. "Then we've got Lew, he's a Welsh Irishman with some unpronounceable name. He's a good enough fellow but kind of small."
Small, Jacob thought. Not a man among them was less than six feet, and each looked like he could pick up the front end of a steam locomotive unaided. "John, yonder, is under dispensation. He's New York Irish, and we've no' decided whether the Almighty will forgive him from being from New York or not."
"How can you be Welsh Irish?" Jacob asked, puzzled.
Work stopped. As one man they stood, threw their heads back and chorused in a great voice, "WE'RE FIREMEN! THAT MEANS WE'RE IRISH!"

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Charlie MacNeil 9-6-07

 

 Abraham didn't hear so much as feel the big man approach the church. He eased to his feet and crossed the room in his socks and lifted the Sharps. He waited, listening intently, then decided to push the issue. He drew back the hammer on the big rifle then said quietly, "Who's out there?"

There was no sound but he knew there was someone there. He moved through the church and once away from his quarters he let the hammer down on the Sharps, slung it over his shoulder, and quickly climbed to the bell tower. Perhaps he could see something from a higher elevation.

Abraham quietly pushed the trap door aside and climbed up onto the bell platform. He eased up high enough to see all around the church then turned slowly, looking keenly into each patch of brush and clump of trees within view. He had nearly convinced himself that no one was there when he saw the faintest hint of a shadow in the edge of a thicket of gooseberry brush. He waited, and the shadow moved just the slightest bit and turned from shadow to one of the biggest men he'd ever seen. The man seemed to be listening and watching and appeared to be a bit perplexed, as if he'd been expecting to see one thing and was seeing something else entirely.

Abraham watched for a moment longer then came to a decision. He rose to his feet with the heavy rifle in the crook of his arm and said in a voice that carried no further than the man's place of concealment, "Can I help you, brother?"

[Firelands-The Beginning]

William A.A. Wallace 9-6-07

 

It was early evening whe Bigfoot crested the hill above Firelands. He looked down upon the now familiar town and noticed that things had been changing, there were new buildings and the town seemed to be prospering. Wallace silently slipped into town, not wanting his presence to be known until he had a chance to speak to Preacher Sopris. He'd made a good friend in the Preacher....

Coming upon the church, Wallace noticed that there was something different about the scene...this time of evening would normally find the Preacher sitting in his room, reading his bible and meditating on the day. Something just wasn't right...the hairs on the back of his arms were tingling...

Quietly approching the church, Wallace hears the unmistakable clicking noise of a Sharps rifle being cocked...freezing in place, hidden from view, he hears "Who's out there?"

[Firelands-The Beginning]

William A.A. Wallace 9-6-07

 

Bigfoot Wallace had been absent from Firelands for many days. As was his wont, he dissappeared into the wilderness for days, weeks, sometimes months on end. Hunting, trapping, scouting...these were the ways of his kind, fearing no one and no thing, enjoying the wanderlust and the adventures that came with the dawning of each new day. Wallace had never been much for "town" living, but the folks in Firelands had made him welcome, even though he was sometimes uneasy around more "genteel" folks.

Making his way back towards Firelands, he spied a gathering of men in a lightly wooded area. Moving with the stealth of the great panther, he got into position to see what they were up to. There were no cattle in the area and these fellows didn't appear to be of the true "cowboy" type. The group had a mean spirited air about them. Some appeared to be professional gunslingers and the majority looked like ruffians and outlaws. They were drinking and fighting amongst themselves and Wallace overheard several references to the town of Firelands. Deeming this information to be of some importance, Bigfoot decided to make his way back to the good folks of Firelands and inform them of what he had seen.

It would be good to see the Preacher again...

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-6-07

 

Bonnie had just tethered Edi in front of the House of McKenna when she heard the clang of metal hitting the floor, followed by Daisy screaming something.
Bonnie looked around. No sheriff, no marshal, no Dawg.
She pulled the rifle from its scabbard, kicked out of her right-hand stirrup and rolled out of the saddle. Cranking a round into the chamber, she came to the door.
Daisy was crying and hugging some big fellow in a red shirt who was laying on the floor, and a handful of other fellows in red shirts were looking at one another like they didn't quite know what was going on. Mick nodded gravely at Bonnie's timely arrival, as did the Sheriff.
The big fellow on the floor sat up, got his arms around behind Daisy's knees and behind her back, and stood, whispering to her like she was a dear child, afraid of the storm.
Bonnie eased the hammer down to half cock and got her back to a wall.
The big fellow set Daisy down, gently, and she fished a kerchief from her apron pocket, and dried her eyes, and blew her nose, and looked at Sean, and started crying all over again. He wrapped his huge arms around her and held her, rocking a little.
"Daisy?" Bonnie asked. "Are you all right?"
Daisy nodded, pressing her kerchief to her nose and drawing back a little.
Daisy looked up at Sean.
"They told me you'd been drowned," she sobbed, and collapsed back into him.
His voice was as gentle as his strong and capable hands. "No, lass, they couldna' drown an Irishman, though they did try."
"They couldn't find you!"
Sean sat down and took her hand, placing it on his auburn hair. "Feel that."
Daisy worked her fingers through his thatch, surprise on her face.
"When the boiler blew, somethin' hit me hard. I remember bein' in the water, an' someone draggin' me out ont' the bank. Turns out I was miles downstream, an' no idea how I got there." His expression was gentle. "I had no memory for th' better part of a year. It came back over night. I woke and knew who I was, and where I should be, and by the time I got back home, you'd gone."
She stroked his face. "I thought you were dead!"
I rubbed the side of my head. "Oh, he's not dead, Daisy, believe me! A dead man can't hit like that!"
Bonnie went in back, picking up the frying pan on her way. She parked her rifle in the corner and, looking around, had a pretty good idea what Daisy had been getting ready.
Six hungry men sat down to an excellent meal, and Bonnie sat with them.
It seems Daisy and Sean had been engaged, and they'd set the date of their marriage, and Sean disappeared when the boiler blew on a steamboat; after diligent search failed to turn up his body, and she'd been given word that he'd been declared dead, she headed West with a broken heart and no plans to continue living.
"But live ye did, and here ye are," Sean declared stoutly. "And if they have a preacher in this wee spot of a place, I'll make ye ma bride this very day!"
Bonnie laid a cautioning hand on Sean's beefy arm. "Let's get used to your being alive first," she said gently. "This has been quite a shock. You understand."
"Aye, that I do," Sean agreed quietly. "'Twas a bit of a shock to me as well."

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-6-07

 

I don't know which made the most noise when the train arrived, the machinery or the passengers.
A half-dozen red-shirted, quarreling, laughing firemen in suspenders and leather hats boiled out of one of the cars, looking around and speculating loudly on the availability of beer, ladies and good beef, in that order. They went back to a flat car, removed a canvas cover, set a ramp in place and by dint of sheer muscle and language that would blister paint off a barn door, rolled a shining, polished, wheeled steam fire engine down to street level.
I grinned.
These fellows were loud, boisterous, swaggering, strutting braggarts. Now to see if they were what I wanted.
I walked up to the biggest of them and, palming my badge into a vest pocket, inquired mildly. "Pardon me, sir, have you any bog trotting Irishmen among you that I might pound into the dirt?"
The fellow was big. I am not a small man, two fingers over six foot in my sock feet, and this fellow looked me squarely in the eye: where I am tall and rangy, he was tall and blocky, and his arms looked like he'd been a blacksmith most of his life.
"I am Sean Connally, and I am an Irishman," he said. "If ye think yerse' man enough, stack your duds and grease your skids and we'll see what you're made of!"
I scaled my hat onto the depot platform. A half-dozen hangers-on joined the whistling, shouting redshirts as Sean and I peeled down to the waist.
I sized this fellow up and tucked my elbows.
I have long thought myself an accomplished boxer and a better out and out brawler.
This fellow was better.
I gave as good as I got, and I got plenty. His first punch caught me in the ribs on the left side and my first punch caught him in the wind, and we both stepped back and took the other's measure.
After that it was a fast exchange of hard punches, two well muscled men brawling in the sun, and finally a hooked punch I did not even see caught me over the left ear, and my feet came off the ground, and that time I did see stars.
Terra firma was a big more firma than I wanted.
I blinked a few times to clear my vision, shook my head.
I raised up.
"You had enough?" I asked, then squinted. There was more than one of him in front of me, and I wasn't sure to which I should address myself.
He stepped forward and extended his hand.
I took it.
He hauled me to my feet and roared, "Ye're the game one, all right! I've no' been hit so hard by a skinny man in all me life!" He rubbed his jaw with appreciation.
"You carry an anvil in your knuckles?" I returned the compliment.
The five other red shirts were still voicing their appreciation for the contest when there was a roar from behind me. "You plug-ugly son of an Irishman, who said ye cuid come int' my town and pick a fight?"
Sean, not to be outdone, spit on his hands, put up his dukes and roared right back, "You bog trotting blue coated son of an Irishman, I can come and go where I please!"
Mick stepped up to him, jaw set and glaring.
Sean set his jaw and glared right back.
"Come on, Mick! Pound him!"
"Sean! Sean! Sean!"
The two tried without success to hold a straight face, then lunged for one another with a mutual roar, back slapping and profaning one another with utter and absolute joy.
"Sean, me boyo, whate'er ye doin' clear out here?"
"We been hired, bucko! Some fella wanted a brand new steam fire fightin' engine and a half dozen good men to run it, an' here we are!"
"And who in his right mind would hire a bunch of wild haythens like yerselves?"
"Some fella named Keller. Sheriff, I think."
Lightning had come out to watch the fun; he'd been kind enough to take a towel and wet it in the rain barrel and clean off my back, where I'd fell back into the street, before I put on my shirt. I buttoned and tucked in and buckled my gun belt, then shrugged into my vest and replaced the badge.
I stuck out my hand.
"The name's Keller. Welcome to Firelands!"

They made a fast check of the engine, their hoses, nozzles, harness and horses; Shorty took the three-horse hitch down to the livery, and we made a noisy troop as we headed for Daisy's. This bunch of firefighters, like the army, marched on its stomach, and I'd promised them Daisy's finest.
"That was a beatin' ye took, lad," Mick muttered to me. "How's yer side, boyo?"
I twisted a little.
I looked at him, surprised.
It didn't hurt.
Mick misinterpreted my look. He seized my shirt, yanked it out of my pants, pulled it up to look, seized the bandage and pulled away.
"Jaysus, Joseph an' Mary," he breathed.
Sean stopped, came back and shoved his head down for a closer look. "Yon's a nasty scar, Sheriff," he roared. "Wha'd ye do, lose a fight?"
Mick drew himself with an air of affront. "I'll ha' ye know he took on a dozen Englishmen, an' they wi' bayonets. He was shot and run through and he still managed to vanquish the enemy wi' nothing but the pen knife in his gentleman's vest!"
Sean threw back his head and laughed. I don't think the man did anything quietly. "Aye, the way he can hit, I believe it!" They stomped happily into Daisy's and argued about where they would sit.
Daisy came out, frying pan in hand, to see what the sudden racket was.
As one, the half-dozen Cincinnati firefighters turned.
Six leather helmets came off on the moment.
I have never heard a more complete silence in all my entire life.
"Daisy?" Sean whispered, his voice absolutely gone in his astonishment.
The frying pan hit the floor and Daisy's hands went to her bosom.
"SEAN!" she screamed, sprinting for the big Irishman and tackling him to the floor with the force of her impact. She landed astride his belly, pounding him with both her delicate little fists, yanking his hair and screaming something in a language I could not quite understand, but her meaning was clear, as she was crying so hard she could hardly utter the syllables she was trying hard to utter. She finally collapsed on top of him, hugging him and crying so hard she started to choke.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Lady Leigh 9-6-07

 

The gambet of emotions Bonnie was experiencing were definitly evident. Shame? Guilt? ....Love?

Love ....

Esther asked a question ... Bonnie wondered if she expected an answer.

"Bonnie?" Srre enough! Bonnie had to answer .... but how?

"Esther ... Caleb and I have not spoken of how we are feeling. Promises made were made by children. As a child, Caleb was my best friend. That friendship has always been there .... something that I was always able to count on. Even now! He's here!

"But?" Esther questioned.

"But we've not discussed anything ..." Bonnie paused, collecting her thoughts. "Sometimes he looks at me with such sorrow ... pitty. I don't want the pitty, and I hold enough sorrow within myself to not exactly want someone elses.

The people in this town are handling things better when it concerns me, and I am grateful. I owe a debt of gratitude to Rev. Sopris. He made it very clear there was an injustice done where I am concerned. But people still look at me sceptically, and I can't blame them ... it's human nature. I feel like I am on some kind of trial basis in their eyes ... especially the women. I still see some of them set their jaw and hold onto their husbands, or sweethearts arms, as if standing gaurd over them. I have had some women approach me on items they want made, but 9 out of 10 times, there are underlying comments made ... comments in hopes to hear gossip ... comments like how happy they are for me that a new life is being experienced, but they still look at me out of the corner of their eyes.

Those are things that Caleb sees, and on occasion, has heard. Do I expect him to be able to digest it? No! Do I even want him to?" Bonnie shrugged.

"I was raised by wonderful, loving people. They instilled in me certain aspects ... conditions, and regardless of what transpired, I can not let go of those tools they gave me. Love was unconditionally delved out to myself and my brother and sister. Love was sacred. With love, all was possible, and when it came to learning love and it's understanding, we were taught to share it in its various forms. We were instructed to do good for our neighbors, for example, but when I was in trouble, no neighbor came to my aide. No one questioned that what was happening to me was not the Bonnie they knew, and as a result, they did nothing!

So now you ask me about Caleb .... well, until I can regain something of myself and feel comfortable with this, I do not feel I can extend those feeling any farther than what is felt for Sarah, Duzy and you, Esther. And until the looks of pitty and sorrow subside from peoples eyes ... Caleb included ... I don't think the next level is something I am ready for."

Esthers face expression was thoughtful, but Bonnie was not anticipating the remark she made, "Bonnie, my dear .... stubborness is just as ugly as pitty. You my dear had best get past your own self pitty, because if you let it continue, no one will look at you any differently! Furthermore, I believe you are misconstruing the look you see in Caleb's eyes, for I see a man who would probably like to discuss with you his feelings, but doesn't dare. I see him look at you with admiration, not condemnation OR pitty. You give Sarah wonderful advise, you tell her school will be fine, that she will be fine, that she is loved, but you won't follow your words of advise. Bonnie? You will be fine! You are loved! Now start loving yourself." With that Esther stood up, laid her hand on Bonnies shoulder, pulled Duzy up gently by her elbow, and the two left Bonnie ... alone.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Duzy Wales 9-6-07

 

Evening came, and Duzy and Bonnie decided to talk to Aunt Esther. They spoke of the upcoming marriage and the questions in their minds. “I have been wondering how long it would take for you to bring this up. I know you thought, with Linn being shot, that you should not worry me; however, I always have time for either of you, as you should know.”

“I was in love once before, and lost that love, thinking it would never happen again in my lifetime. I love Linn Keller, and I do plan to marry him. I will accept his proposal and have already bought his betrothal gift. I have not promised when the wedding will take place nor have we discussed a date! The engagement will give Linn and I time to be together, to learn of each others quirks, what delights the other, to plan where we are to live, to get “The Ruby Room” opened,” and then looking at Duzy, “and to see Duzy settled.”

“Oh, Aunt Esther, you shouldn’t worry about that, as you will still be here in Firelands! You cannot be expected to watch my every move, as I am no longer a teenager!” Duzy was thinking of Jake and was hoping her Aunt had not seen everything!

Aunt Esther continued, “As far as Jacob is concerned, Linn loves the boy, whether he realizes it or not, just as I do, both of you. I would do anything in my power to help either of you, and I will do the same for Jacob, he seems like a fine young man, which is good enough for me. I know Linn tends to get excited and thinks things should run like clock work when he gets an idea, but he will have to learn a little patience, Aunt Esther said smiling, although I do hope to have plenty of time in bed with that man before I die!” Duzy and Bonnie looked at each other and laughed aloud. It seemed their questions had just been answered.

Esther did not stop at that; however, “You are both young in the ways of love. No, Bonnie, do not go there…..the things that happened to you were not love and you have no reason to be ashamed, as it was not your choice what happened! “So, now tell me, Bonnie, how do you really feel in your heart about Caleb, and Duzy, what do you feel when you are with Jake?”

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-6-07

 

"Mick, your and men have done good work."
"Aye, sir, that we have," Mick said with justifiable pride. "I'd no' let them hear me say it, though!"
We laughed together at that.
"Mick, I need some more work, but I'd say we're nearly finished."
"And what'll that be, sir?"
"I'm expecting a box car full of buckets."
"Buckets, sir?"
"Leather fire buckets. I want them distributed among all the buildings, all filled with water."
"Aye, sir. A wise precaution."
"Mick, what do you know about fighting fire?"
"Fire, sir? I've run like hell to get away from a prairie fire, sir, and I've seen fire destroy an entire town, but I've no' much fought it. Other'n yon straw fire when lightning hit near th' livery."
"I'm bringing in a steam powered, fire fighting engine and a crew to run it. Sent off to Cincinnati and rented their services for a week."
"A week, sir? Will that be enough time, do you think?"
"I hope so, Mick. I'll need a shed built, more to hide the engine than to keep it out of the weather."
Mick mulled this over. "Have we the lumber, sir?"
"It's on the train as well."
"Aye, sir, we can do that."
"Good." I took a deep breath. My side didn't hurt, and hadn't for some time, I noted with surprise.
"How's Rose o' the Mornin' suitin' ye, sir?"
I could feel my smile starting behind my ears and spreading all over my face.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-5-07

 

I raised my fist to knock, then hesitated.
Last time I'd knocked on this door, the Reverend Sopris answered.
I shook my head and took a breath. His duties had him elsewhere, I reminded myself, and I had business with the parson.
Thus fortified, I rapped, twice.
Parson Belding opened the door, a smile on his face and the Book open in his hand. "Come in, son," he said kindly. "I was just thinking about you."
He gestured me to a seat, and sat down himself.
"Parson, there's two things," I said, "and neither of them is a small matter."
"Lay it before the Lord, my son. He can pack it even when we can't."
I nodded. "I'll work on the easier one first." I took a long breath, at least until my side reminded me of the folly of such an exercise. I swallowed hard.
"Somehow I don't think that was a painful memory I just saw."
"No, sir, it wasn't, but I'm gettin' better."
Parson Belding got up and laid his hand on my side. I moved my arm so he could put his hand flat on the bandage. He pressed; it was warm, even through the bandage. He closed his eyes, and I could barely hear his words as his lips moved.
In a moment he sat back down, apparently satisfied. "And the matter that concerns you so?"
"I wish to ask a woman's hand in marriage."
The Parson nodded, rocking a little. "Marriage is an ancient institution," he said slowly, "ordained of God before men cared to record history. A wife is a blessing and a help meet." He smiled a little wider. "Did you know, my son, the first of Christ's miracles was at Cana of Galilee?"
It was my turn to smile. "He turned the waters into wine. At a wedding."
The Parson nodded in approval. "Is she a good choice?"
"An excellent choice."
"Smart? Good looking?"
"She is both."
"Yet your heart is troubled."
I looked to the floor. "Parson, she is a lady in the finest sense of the word. I may have over stepped myself."
Silence.
"I was shot recently, and some believed I would die of it."
The Parson nodded, once.
"Esther was in the sickroom and I made so bold as to tell her to think about selecting the dress she'd like to be married in, and to consider where she would like me to propose to her."
The Parson frowned a little, considering this. "You asked her to think about selecting a dress."
"Yes, sir."
He smiled, and there was merriment in his eyes. "My father is Sir, my son. I'm just plain old Reverend Belding, a humble servant of God and a fellow sinner like unto yourself." He considered a moment. "So far I don't see a fault in your actions."
"I haven't her permission to ask her hand in marriage."
"I see." He looked somewhere far away, remembering. "You are considering the elaborate manners of a Southern gentleman, asking for a lovely girl's hand."
"I am considering a perfect lady, raised in the South and deserving of every courtesy and of a romantic courtship."
The Parson steepled his fingers. "You've not asked her yet."
"I have not."
"To be real honest, son, I can't see where you've overstepped yourself at all."
I nodded. "I would not hurt her feelings for the world," I said softly, "nor would I offend her in any way."
"But you figure to marry her."
I looked the man square in the eye. "If she will have me, that is my intention!" I declared stoutly.
"Let me know when you decide the deed. And the other matter?"
I took a deep breath, relieved at his words; it was as if a weight were off my heart.
"Parson, you already know hell's a-comin'."
"I know, my son. I was talking to God about it a little bit ago."
"They will want to kill who they can, they will likely despoil our women and carry us off, and it is certain they will fire the town."
"I know."
"We've been making ready to receive them."
"And a fine preparation it is." The Parson chuckled. "I will be joining your son in our bell tower."
He must have seen the surprise I tried to hide.
"He's a fine lad, and growing into a man. He has the greatest respect for you, Sheriff. If he had you any higher on a pedestal you would have nosebleed."
"He is a fine lad," I agreed. "I could not ask for better, were he seed of my own loins."
"You are troubled over what is to come."
"Any man would be."
"Have you doubts about the outcome?"
My look was haunted. "Parson, I was in the War. I have seen battle at its worst. I have waded in blood up to my ankles and I held my best friend as he drowned in his own blood. I doubt me not the outcome will be slaughter, pure and simple, both we and they. What troubles me--" I turned my hat over and over a couple times in my hands -- "I may not be able to keep them safe. My people. I am the Sheriff. I have good people with me, and we will be fighting for what is ours ... but, Parson ... it is a burden. I cannot let them past me. I must stop them!"
Parson Belden nodded. "I've known men like you, Sheriff. Most of them saw war, just as you have, and most of them lost people in the War they care dearly about. Most of them went into some helping profession, whether they became physicians, or lawmen, or went back into the military, but they have one common thread." He looked at me sharply.
"They actually give a damn about what they do."
He let me consider that for a minute, then continued.
"Don't take on more than is your share to carry. We are not burdened with more than the Lord knows we can bear. He will see you through this, according to His will. More than that we cannot ask."
I nodded. "Thank you, Parson."
"My son, you will not be alone," Parson Belden said as he shook my hand. "I will be in the bell tower with my Sharps, and Jacob will be beside me with his Winchester. He is a fine shot and a steady lad, and he will make you proud of him."
"I am already proud of him," I said, surprising myself with the pronouncement.
I turned to leave.
"Sheriff?"
I turned back.
"One last thing. Would you do me the honor of giving the guest sermon Sunday?"
I blinked, surprised. "You heard about last Sunday's sermon, I take it."
He laughed easily and with genuine good humor. "I did, and I would have paid good money to have seen it."

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Charlie MacNeil 9-5-07

 

 

Abraham woke suddenly, once again convinced that someone had called his name. This time he didn't lay back down, but rose from his bed and knelt beside the bedframe with his head bowed and his hands folded.

"I'm here Lord," he whispered. Chills ran up his spine and he felt the presence of a higher power in the small room. All around him, golden glimmers ran like quicksilver along the edges of the furniture and the window frame, and he could feel a warmth and a peace like he'd never felt before. And he felt that a message had been passed.

As suddenly as it came, the quicksilver shimmer dimmed and winked out, and Abraham became aware of the hardness of the floor against his knees through the thin cloth of his drawers. He got to his feet and lit the lamp that stood on the bedside table. He picked up his Bible, sat in the rocking chair that stood nearby, and began to read from Ecclesiastes Chapter 9:

11 I have seen something else under the sun:
The race is not to the swift
or the battle to the strong,
nor does food come to the wise
or wealth to the brilliant
or favor to the learned;
but time and chance happen to them all.

12 Moreover, no man knows when his hour will come:
As fish are caught in a cruel net,
or birds are taken in a snare,
so men are trapped by evil times
that fall unexpectedly upon them.

As he read, he knew for certain that "evil times" were coming to Firelands. And he knew just as certainly that he would be standing by to do what he could to thwart that evil. It was coming to a time for the wicked to harvest what they had sown.

There was coming "a time to kill and a time to heal" and "a time for war and a time for peace." Abraham Belding was just as capable at war as he was at peace and he fully intended to be there to do his part when the time came. Misters Sharps, Colt, and Winchester had made sure of that.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-5-07

 

Liam smiled, exhaling a great cloud of blue smoke. He flicked the ash off his excellent Havana and helped himself to another drink.
The terrain was flatter and less populated, but Liam did not care.
He'd gotten word that his forces were growing. Gold was a powerful incentive, especially among the lawless, and the outlaws attracted to his purse were increasing.
Dear, sweet Bonnie, he thought. Let me relieve you of your anxieties. You will be terrified, and I can offer you relief from your fear. Just sign this paper, dear sweet cousin, and I will protect you ...
He laughed out loud. "Two days, my sweet," he chuckled. "Two days."

Clara flirted with every man in the dining car, from a smodering glance, to a flutter of eyelashes, to a blown kiss to a lad that hadn't seen his first shave yet. Men are such fools, she thought, and smiled with a charming innocence at the well-dressed rancher seated across from her.
She hadn't had to buy a meal yet.
She was satisfied that, before the night was out, most if not all his coin would be in her safe keeping, and -- who knows? -- he just might like some of the same things as she.

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Linn Keller 9-5-07

 

I put aside thoughts of Esther the moment I crossed the threshold of the House of McKenna. For one thing, I nearly ran into Mick. He snapped a salute and I automatically returned it.
"Colonel, sir, good to see you this fine mornin'," he greeted me in his great booming voice.
"Mick, did you see the sunrise today?"
"Aye, sir, that I did, and look at what I saw in that glorious first light." He turned and whistled sharply, and a good looking chestnut mare came trotting up ... saddled, bridled, and dancing.
I admred her lines. She was a good looking mount.
"Ye like her, sir?" Mick asked as she nuzzled his palm. He'd picked up a handful of little bitty apples, the kind that are unbelievably sweet and no bigger than a fifty cent piece.
She leaned over and sniffed at me. Mick dropped a few apples in my palm, and she took them as delicately as Sam ever took tobacco. I rubbed her ears, stroked her neck.
"Why don't ye try her, sir? I believe ye'll find the saddle familiar."
I took another look. It wasn't Sam's saddle; that one was a custom job, made for Sam's massive barrel. No, this was a cavalry saddle, the kind I'd been quite familiar with, when I was a younger man.
"What's her name?" I asked, turning the stirrup so I could get my hoof into it.
"Rose o' the Mornin', and she's of good stock!"
I stepped into the saddle. Rose o' the Mornin' danced a little under me.
"Try her, sir," Mick encouraged me.
Rose turned with just the pressure of reins on her neck and my knees. On a hunch, I knotted her reins together and dropped them and, hands on my thighs, steered her with my knees.
She turned and paced down the dirt street.
I leaned forward. "Go, girl," I whispered, and she went a little faster, until we got past the last of the buildings.
I leaned back and she slowed.
We paced back to where Mick stood, grinning.
"D'ye like her, sir?"
I patted her neck. She shook her head and blew. She wanted more.
She wanted to run.
I brought her about, touched her with my heels.
She ran.
I thought Sam could run. Well, he could, and for all his size and reach, he was a big horse, and ponderous. I'd ridden him so long I'd forgotten what a good mare can do.
Rose of the Morning, I thought. How about Rosy Bolt of Lightning? I leaned forward and she thrust faster. Her shadow had trouble keeping up.
We came back, shortly, and if it's possible for a mare to strut, she did.
My dismount was not entirely painless, but my blood was up, like it always is after a good ride.
"Me father sends his greetings, sir, and this horse. He'd sent her thinkin' I had a grand stable to keep her in, but I'm just a poor old horse soldier, and all I have is what Uncle Sam has given me."
"Is she gun shy at all?" I asked.
"Nae, sir, she's no' that." He stroked her fondly under the chin. "Trained her meself."
I remembered Mick's father. We'd served together, back when, and he could work magic with horses. It was his mare that got me to safety, that night when the cannon blew up, and our position was overrun.
If Mick trained this horse, I reasoned, he likely was taught by the best, and that was his Pa ... this, then, was a horse worthy of the name!
Only then did I notice the decorations on her bridle.
Roses, engraved into the metal work.
"Thank you, Mick," I murmured.
"Now, sir, let's be plannin' the defense o' this fine little town o' yours. When yon rendegades ride in they'll be lookin' to kill who they can an' run off the rest, so they'll likely hit the hotel hard, and the businesses, knowin' a storekeeper normally lives o'ertop his store. They'll use torches to flush out any they can't see, and if they're black hearted enough, they may likely just kill anyone they find. Unless, o'course, they want to carry off the women."
I stroked Rose's neck, remembering a time when I saw that happen.
I could not help myself. I thought of Esther, and a cold rage started to build in me.
Mick was saying something, but I did not hear him.
In my mind's eye I saw riders in the street, and the firing points along the rooflines. The doorway to the hotel and the Ruby Room would be inviting and they would have to be met with stiff resistance from within.
The Ruby Room was Esther's dream.
The hotel was Tillie's.
The House of McKenna was Bonnie's.
A fire in any of them would destroy them all.
"I won't let that happen," I whispered through tight lips.
"Sir?" Mick asked.
"Hm? Oh. Sorry. My mind was elsewhere. You were saying?"

[Firelands-The Beginning]

Charlie MacNeil 9-5-07

 

Art Parlan rode into the outlaw camp followed by twelve of his riders. "I hear somebody's payin' good gold money to have a town burned out," he said to the first man they came to. "Where do we sign up?" Steve Haggerty had done his share of killing and other mayhem, but he took one look at Parlan and his crew and pointed wordlessly to the center of the camp. Parlan rode on.

Parlan dismounted and tossed his reins to his second in command, Jack Malone. He swaggered up to the man who looked to be in charge and said, "I'm here. We can start plannin'."

"I can see you're here, but just who the hell are you?" the gunslick demanded. "I don't recall that we were waiting for anyone in particular."

"My name's Art Parlan, and these are my boys." He gestured to the heavily armed group who still sat their horses, waiting. "We tear down towns for fun."

"This town won't be fun, I don't imagine," the answer rang out. "They've got a couple of pretty savvy lawmen there."

"Pshaw," Parlan said. "They won't stand a chance."

"We'll see. For now, put your horses in the corral and find a place to plant yourself. We're not quite ready to move yet."

Parlan and his men did as instructed and settled in to wait. Several bottles of whiskey surfaced from somewhere and the men set to drinking with a will.