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Father Kit Cool Gun Garth

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Everything posted by Father Kit Cool Gun Garth

  1. Thank you all for the SASSpedia breakdown on snake ID. The "funnies" were a nice touch. I did some additional research online, asked the snake several questions, specifically how he got on our property, ie. "Did you cross the border illegally?", to which he didn't respond, of course. Downloaded an APP to assist: Got a reply that it was a "juvenile black racer". Looks like this: My snake looks like this: The closest guess by SASSepedia was the grey rat snake which looks like this: The description of the grey rat snake
  2. It's fate is in your decision. Appears friendly with rounded face.
  3. J. Mark, She was in the check-out lane at our local PUBLIX when I asked her if she wouldn't mind me taking a picture of the back of her shirt, to which she accepted. I did mention that I shoot Cowboy Action which seemed to surprise her.
  4. When Jack and Kit arrived in town, Jack headed straight for the Cafe while Kit pulled up to the Land Office dismounting from Orion and hopping onto the boardwalk with a skip in his step. Without hesitation, he reached for the door to the Office swinging it wide, removing his hat at the same time, turning and gently closing the door behind him. He was glad to be back in town where things were more subdued and normal and he was intent on checking on Venus to make sure she was alright, especially after the gunfight in the SALOON and his taking off after the bank robbers. He missed not having chec
  5. When the men arrived back in town from Hammond's place, Doc, Linn and Jack headed to see Marshall UB. Kit and Jacob left their horses on the outskirts of town, out of sight, behind the Telegraph Office while both dismounting and pulling their long rifles from their scabbards and taking cover on both sides of the street. Keeping a low profile, they each began to move closer to the SALOON where several horses were tethered, as well as in front of the Bank, making sure that the alley spaces between the buildings were not occupied. As Kit approached the Bank, he heard voices, though fain
  6. Lucas made his way to the Sheriff's Office, and as soon as he arrived, he dismounted while his steed was still in a stopping motion, running up the few stairs to the boardwalk and entering the Office as if the door had magically opened merely upon his hand touching the handle. Marshal UB jumped from his chair, spilling his coffee on his desk and was just reaching for his sidearm, when he saw who it was that stormed in. "Whoa there son, what's the hurry?" he bellowed, as he returned his revolver to its holster, while simultaneously checking his clothes for possible spilled coffee. Lucas,
  7. Lucas rode his Palomino hard wanting to arrive in East Fork as soon as possible knowing that trouble was brewing at the Hammond estate. Aurora was a fine mare and could ride as hard as any stallion and he had won many a bet with others who doubted it. Her ability to maneuver as the slightess moment combined with her endurance made her the ideal ride for him. It wasn’t long before he met up with two other riders coming from town. “Halt, who goes there?” Jack shouted, watching the oncoming rider pull up on the reigns. “Lucas Clayton, well known by Marshall Utah Bob!” he exclaim
  8. With the stalls finally cleaned, Lucas headed for the bunkhouse, which was not one of the chores he cared for, especially if any of the hired hands were hanging around. They seemed to get pleasure in poking fun at him whenever they had a chance. Grabbing a broom and entering the building, no one was in sight; however, he heard voices coming from the rear. Pausing for just a moment to determine if they had heard him enter, he cautiously proceeded in their direction. Behind the door, he could hear them clearly. "I sure wish Hammond would make up his mind as to how he's planning on resolving this
  9. Venus turned to Kit as they both understood the situation, and left without saying a word. Kit thought for a moment about the mornings events so far, then began to unfold the telegram that Levi had delivered. "Ranger Cool. (STOP) So good to hear from you. (STOP) As to your most recent inquiry, one Frank J. Milt has a large scar on his left cheek, and is missing a small piece of his right ear lobe. (STOP) You might also be interested in knowing that he has had several confrontations with a Linn Keller, former Yankee officer, Lawman and Preacher. (STOP) Stay safe my friend. (STO
  10. The silence in the room was broken, not by either party speaking, but by a loud banging on the door. "Mr. Kit! It's Levi, from the telegraph office. I have your telegram." As soon as Kit began to rise from the bed, Venus quickly stopped him and went for the door herself. Upon opening the door, there stood this tow-headed lad standing no more than three and a half feet tall, barefoot, with a face as red as a beet, most likely from running so hard. "Oh, Ms. Lardy! I have a telegram for Mr. Kit," he sputtered, having not yet regained his breath. "Why thank you Levi," she replied in that
  11. Frank Milt was not to be messed with, as the rage he held inside his soul could never be extinguished. He was conceived from the unlikely pairing of a Cherokee Indian mother and a loner mountain man father. Growing up was a daily dose of living an almost parent-less life as his father was constantly roaming the mountains and streams trapping beaver and the like. When he did show up it was to restock on supplies for the next trip. His mother, bless her soul, was a hard worker and the only provider for the household, which wore on her daily. Without the affection and love she so desperately need
  12. Venus softly knocked on the door to Kit's room and upon hearing a "Come on in," she entered. His eyes lit up as he exclaimed, "Food! What a wonderful surprise." Realizing his poor manners, he quickly followed up with, "It's great to see you so soon. I can't express my gratitude enough for what you've done for me. Clearly a debt that I will repay someday. " Placing the plate of food on a bureau near the bed, along with the cup of coffee, she sat down on the bed next to him. "I hear Doc Waite is impressed with your recovery, and that you should be up and about within a day or two. That is gr
  13. Lucas had always wanted to be a cowboy, growing up on his Uncle's ranch. He lost both his parents to cholera while in a wagon train heading to Wyoming from North Dakota. They suffered and died quickly as there was no medical attention to be had. Lucas was quickly quarantined, and survived. His mother's brother and his wife took him in, raising him since he was eight years old. Looking back now, he understood why his Uncle Clayton and Aunt Becky made him do the chores he was required to perform. Up at the crack of dawn to feed the chickens, gather their eggs. Provide hay to the horses in
  14. They say time heals all wounds; however, in Kit's case, that was only half true. The loss of his wife and only child were buried in his heart for eternity, never to be healed. His gunshot wound was another story. Doc Waite had made a courtesy visit first thing this morning. Checking his wound after removing the bandages, he was pleased to report that Kit was healing faster than expected. "How's the side?", he asked. Kit hesitated before answering, as if to contemplate the corresponding response from Charlie. "Still sore. Had a rough night last night, but not as bad as it's been. Lo
  15. As Kit lay restless in bed, he could now hear the shouts of various townsfolk, as they were trying to assess the current situation. "Over there at the jail!" exclaimed one person. "Someone get the Sheriff!" yelled another. The overall uproar took over the previously serene quiet of the night. Kit's thoughts went back to yesterday's events, trying to recall exactly what happened out on the range. A single shot, laying on the ground, the appearance of Venus, and then the doc's office. It all seemed a blur, as he vaguely remembered getting help to his room, but after that nothing until these
  16. The sound of gunshots awoke Kit from a deep sleep. Reaching under his pillow for his revolver, he lay attentive in the bed, his room lit up by the moonlight, casting eerie shadows throughout. He knew that any attempt to quickly jump into action would not be forthcoming based on his current condition. Just as he was getting his bearings, two more shots rang out. They were coming from the direction of the jail. This time he decided to cautiously work his way to the edge of the bed, rising to a seated position. His right hand dropped his revolver on the bed as he worked his body upright, hol
  17. "Te tengo hijo de puta!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "I hope the buzzards chew on your sorry carcass for days," he said to himself as he lower the barrel of his Sharps rifle. His perch just below the Mesa provided him with the perfect vantage point with which to spot any rider on the road heading East out of town without spotting him. He liked that the backdrop of the mess made any rifle shot echo difficult to determine its source. On this day though it wasn't just anyone he wanted to kill , it was the preacher man. Placing the rifle in its scabbard, he took a few moments to get a swi
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