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Father Kit Cool Gun Garth

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Everything posted by Father Kit Cool Gun Garth

  1. I knew UB had many uniforms in his collection, but didn't think he had this one!
  2. @Wild Will Bartell The SASS F.A.Q. Forum has great reference information on it. https://forums.sassnet.com/index.php?/forum/25-sass-wire-faq/ For your topic:
  3. I respect that comment! https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Beaver_(wrestler)
  4. Means even more that he appears dressed in full uniform.
  5. He is Jamaican. Were his parents of African descent?
  6. Please clarify my understanding of race and it's associated terms. This post is, by no means, intended to disparage any one or any race. It's come about with the recent decision by Mr. Biden to choose Kamala Harris as his VP running mate. Now it's a known fact that her father is Jamaican and her mother is Indian (clarification needed, as she is from India and not a Native American Indian) and she was born in California. Not only the MSM, but others, are using terms such as "Black", "African-American" , and woman of color to describe her. My understanding is that to be categorized or called "Black" one must have African black ancestry or lineage. Likewise, to be called African American, one must be a descendant of enslaved black people who are from the United States. As Kamala Harris has no African black ancestry or lineage, nor is she a descendant of enslaved black people, the terms " Black" and "African American" are not appropriate or acceptable to describe her. Use of the term "woman of color" is so vague that it's use becomes meaningless, as it denotes ANYONE who is not white. It dates back to 1977 when it was used by a group of black women. Ms. Harris, IMHO, should either be referred to as Asian American or of Jamaician-Indian descent. Please correct me if my view is skewed.
  7. German Shepard realizes owner is no longer behind him!
  8. O.K., we all know why he's taking up this new hobby!
  9. Kit took a long pause, more for effect than it was to aggravate his host, as he could see UB was chomping at the bit for details of how he had disposed of three criminals single handed. So as to not hold him in limbo any longer, Kit proceeded to delve into his story. "I had followed their trail for some time until they eventually split up. A single set of tracks headed due north whilst the other tracks headed straight to Tarrant, Arizona. Being familiar with the Arizona territory, I set my sights in that direction. When I arrived in town, I found out that the Brett Black gang were causing trouble and soon a posse was formed to go after them. When they returned, it was then that I was told that one of the two men I was after had been killed by a Rye Miles. Story is that Rye shooting from horseback with his trusty 73 nailed my guy in the head while he was filling his canteen from the creek. The other man escaped, although leaving wounded after having been shot in the leg. Before leaving town, that was when Rye informed me that upon searching him, he found a telegraph message in his coat pocket from a Mr. Hammond who was seeking hired guns to assist in his protection against the citizens of Stone Creek. That was why I was headed for Stone Creek. No surprise to me, but apparently the town folk there were having their own trouble. I never made it to town as I perceived my assistance was not going to be needed. Word spread quickly though the County that they put up a grand attack on the Hammond ranch. Tales, the stuff of dime novels, were being told of the stand the citizens of Stone Creek took to rescue the hostages. Two in particular caught my attention. A man they call Doc had gutted a man with his dagger during the fight. His tenasity and will to take on anyone who got in the way of his immediate task was a testament to his character. The man he killed was one of those I was following." Kit could see UBs eyes grow large as if he had seen a ghost, his mouth yearning to say something very important, yet not wanting to interrupt the story. Kit continued. "The second gentleman was some sort of preacher, I believe his name was Keller. He took out another of the men I was after as well. He used his Sharps rifle to take him out just as another was preparing to shoot at him." UB couldn't contain himself any longer as he rose from his chair, let loose a huge belly laugh and loudly announced, "Both those fellows live right here in East Fork!" It was now Kit's turn to appear surprised. UB continued, "They are two of the best friends I have ever had. Not only would they give you the shirt off their back, they'd defend your honor as well." "I can see that, based on the stories I've heard", Kit replied. "I'd sure like to meet them and thank them for their help in taking down those two men." "I'm sorry, but they both are out of town at the moment." UB responded. "Why don't you settle in and I'll come and get you when they arrive back in town." "I think I'll do that Sheriff," Kit replied. "Please, call me UB." "Alright, UB. I saw the livery earlier while scoping out your town, so I think I'll stop by and get my horse taken care of first, then head over to the diner for a hot meal." "Check in with Shorty, the blacksmith at the livery, he's a good simple, uncomplicated man. He'll do you right. Tell him I sent you." "I'll do that Sheriff, I mean UB. Appreciate your attention to my situation." With that, Kit stood up, shook UBs outstretched hand, put his hat back on, spun around and headed out of the Sheriff's Office. Once outside, he grabbed Orion's reins, foot in stirrup, and glided into the saddle. A slight pull of the reins and they were headed south to the livery.
  10. “I've traveled a great distance to follow up on a lead I was given by a good friend and fellow Texas Ranger, Rye Miles. Ever heard of him?” Kit inquired. UB replied “Can't say that I have, although we don't get many visitors around these here parts. Life is simple, which is how we like it. Makes my job much easier. So you're a Texas Ranger?” “That I am”, Kit replied, almost as if he was ashamed of the title. “You see, after my wife and son were killed two years ago, I swore I would catch the four men who did it and make them pay dearly with their lives. As a man seeking revenge, I swore I would hunt them down and kill every one of them. As a man of the cloth, my oath to GOD would never allow such vile retribution. My only hope then would be somewhere in the middle, so I joined the Texas Rangers. This way I could get the justice I sought and let God's will be done.” “We'll I'll be danged”, UB responded with a surprised look on his face. “You're the second Texas Ranger that's arrived in town this week! Know of a John Caulder?” Kit quickly stood up from his chair almost knocking it over and with a Cheshire grin on his face, replied, “That Old Desert Rat! Why we go back as far as Tarrant, Arizona when the Brett Black gang were causing trouble. What's he doing in town?” “Seems he's got business just like you, tracking down another bad hombre”, UB responded. “He's hooked up with Slim Dawkins, an undercover Pinkerton detective, but let us keep that between just you and me for now. Now who is this fella you're hunting.” Kit's face turned to scornful when he replied, “His name is Frank J. Milt, but he goes by the nickname "Flapjack". He’s as nasty as they come and would just as soon shoot you in the back then to face you squarely like a man.” UB now sitting back in his chair, leaning precariously far enough to make one think he would merely fall on the floor, until his chair rested ever so slightly against the back wall, “So what can I do to help?” “Have there been any strangers around town that you’re not familiar with?” “There’s the Hammond bunch outside of town. Mr. Hammond seems to have a knack for hiring anyone that will do his bidding for a price.” UB replied. “You say there were four men?” he continued. Kit settling back into his chair, taking a swig of his coffee, prepared to fill the Sheriff in on his task to date. “Yes, there were four men involved; however, only one is left to be taken care of.” UB quickly pulled himself back into an upright position, setting his coffee cup on his desk and placing both hands flat on the table, giving Kit an inquisitive look. Kit could tell he wanted details.
  11. I won the lottery. I have no need for a widget, but will give you $350 for it,just because I can.
  12. Kit dismounted from Orion in front of the Sheriffs’ Office, looped the reins around the saddle horn and stepped up onto the boardwalk, taking time to kick the first step with his boots to get what little mud off them as possible before heading to the Office. The Sheriff had already made his way to the front door awaiting Kit’s arrival, greeting him with a “What brings you to East Fork, Stranger?” He had already seen Kit arrive and found it odd that instead of heading to the nearest SALOON, he casually rode the town. “May we speak inside?” Kit replied, to which the Sheriff calmly turned around and into his office with Kit close behind, closing the door as he entered. “My name is Kit and I may need your assistance, if you have a mind to.” “Pleased to meet you Kit, my name is Utah Bob, Deputy U.S. Marshal and town Sheriff, but folks around here skip the title and just call me UB. Have a seat. Can I get you a cup of coffee, just brewed a fresh pot?” “I’d appreciate that Sheriff,” Kit replied as he grabbed a chair slid it in front of the Sheriffs’ desk and taking his hat off, proceed to sit down. UB moving to the pot belly stove in the corner of the room, grabbing the coffee pot and a tin cup from the shelf and while pouring coffee stated with a firm tone, “We’re not looking for any trouble here in town, Lord knows we have enough of our own troubles as it is.” Setting the coffee pot back on the stove, turning and handing the cup to Kit, UB queried him, “Now then, what can I do for you?”
  13. The sun was hanging high in the cloudless sky as Kit could now see the outline of East Fork off in the distance. A lone mesa jutting from the continuous, unbroken desert landscape provided a serene backdrop to the small town, its flat top and steep sides an odd sight on what had been, up to this moment, a barren lifeless trip. The celestial orb that had been causing his brow to sweat, was also working on the once snow-covered ground, turning it to a muddy slush. He pondered how Orion must feel having eventually make his way from soft, fluffy snow to this treacherous muck. Kit had been riding a parallel path with the Union-Pacific Railroad since first arriving in Green River City and as he neared East Fork, he could see the rails coming closer as the local Train Depot could be seen at the north end of town. Arriving in East Fork, he took a quick tour of the town to get his bearings and acquaint himself with its offerings. There were two streets that divided the town into three sections. Railroad towns were often laid out in a T-shape, with the top portion being the street paralleling the railroad and the straight part being the town's main street. Turning south on main street, was the Land Office on his right and the Post Office on his left. Next to the Land Office was the local Bank which was across the street from the Sheriffs’ Office. This made complete sense to Kit, providing quicker law enforcement for potential bank robbers; however, he found it odd that the building was not constructed of bricks, which was the case in most towns. The town folk appeared to be quite friendly, especially to a stranger, new to their town. Coming up on the General Store on the right, next to the bank, Kit tipped his hat to what appeared to be the proprietor of the business as she was casually sweeping the boardwalk in front. He was taken aback though when she returned his greeting with a scornful frown. Across the street was a SALOON though a rather large building for such a small town. The typical loud chatter could be heard even from the street along with the increasing crescendo from the pounding of piano keys to some long familiar tune. As Kit approached the end of the street, there was the inevitable two-story local hotel occupying the entire corner of the block and across an adjoining street the town Church facing directly north. Left at the end of main street, Kit could now see the small red schoolhouse that sat adjacent to the Church, and now turning north onto the second road that ran parallel to main street, was the Livery and its blacksmith, a building that appeared to house several other small businesses, including a Dress Shop and a barber shop, and finally another much smaller SALOON. As with most towns, there were no houses to be seen in town itself, but off in the distance behind and around town instead. Kit understood all to well the reasons for this, what with dust in the summer and mud in the spring. His wife once told him that good ladies did not wish to live cheek-to-cheek with prostitutes, gamblers and drunks. Having satisfied himself with his current surroundings, Kit headed for the Sheriff’s Office to introduce himself.
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