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[Ridgetop Rich - SASS#42606]

Celebrating my 25th this weekend.  Be back on it mid-next week.  Might even show you how to get a-head in life!  

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

"So, there are a lot of things out there that the world doesn't know or want to know about.  For as long as man has recorded history there have been people of  . . . unusual abilities. We are not exactly immortals and we sure as hell aren't gods or demigods or anything of that nature.  I don't know why it happens, just that it does.  Most are driven to fight one another with a belief that eventually there will be only one.  Rich is a true believer, he thinks it will usher in an age of peace on earth.  I believe that it will usher in an age of oppression.  I'm not sure they aren't the same thing." I started to explain

 

Blackwater raised an eyebrow "Sounds a little pessimistic"

 

I nodded in agreement "Experience has taught me that a healthy dose of pessimism is a good way to keep my head."

 

He looked at me "How long have you been  . . ."

 

"Let me put it this way Have you heard of the Battle of Marathon?"

 

He looked thoughtful for a moment "Sounds familiar-Spartans fighting Persian invaders at a pass and greatly outnumbered?"

 

I shook my head no "Close, but that was Thermoplyle under Leonidas.  Marathon was 10 years earlier."

 

He looked at me doubtfully  "You are telling me you've been around 2500 years?"

 

I shook my head "No,  but there are some that have been around that long.  That's the first place I know of an immortal fighting.  I'm relatively young by comparison, I first fought in Tuscarora'a war.  I fought under Colonel Barnwell.  I was known as Captain Jack at the time."

 

Blackwater scratched his head "That was what a hundred years before the Revolutionary War?"

 

I nodded "A bit more.  Since then every 30 years or so I create a new identity, move to a different area and try and lay low."

 

"So all this time you've been laying low?" and he laughed  I smiled "No, I got tired of standing by and truthfully, when you are born to fight one cause is as good as another."

 

 

[Calico Mary]

Bored….yes, I was very bored.  Laying across the bed in my hotel room, I wished I had something….anything….to do.  For the last two days, I hadn’t been able to leave that room except to go to the outhouse, accompanied by Mr. Sam.  After the two men had burst into Cody’s house and shot him right in front of me, one of them had picked me up and carried me to the hotel.  I didn’t want to go with him, but for some reason I just wasn’t able to hit him hard enough to make him put me down.  “Knock it off before I drop you, ya little runt!” he’d said, but that was all he said to me.  Carrying me into the lobby, he put me down in a chair, then told the clerk to go fetch Miss Whiskey.  When I heard that, I jumped up to try and run out, but almost fell flat on my face until he grabbed me and pushed me back down.  Then he stood with one foot on the hem of my dress so I couldn’t get away while he waited for Miss Whiskey.

 

“Blackwater, I haven’t seen you in ages…..Calico?  What in the world?  Why are you dressed like a whore?  And why are you crying?  Blackwater, an explanation please, if you would?” Miss Whiskey wasn’t very happy, and even less so by the time the man had told her what he had seen at Cody’s.  The tears just wouldn’t stop streaming down my face…how could those men have killed the man I loved in cold blood, and for what?  I was with him willingly, and it’s not like they had any right to interfere.  I couldn’t even hear all of what the man told Miss Whiskey, I was too upset.  After a few minutes, he excused himself, telling her he had to help his partner take Cody’s body to the sheriff, and left me alone with her.  I was sure I was about to be yelled at, but Miss Whiskey just shook her head at me, telling we we’d talk about it later, that it was late and I needed to get upstairs to bed.  It’s a good thing she was willing to help with that, I don’t think I would have made it up those stairs without assistance, though I still had no idea what was wrong with me, why was I feeling so light headed and strange?

 

The next morning, my stomach hadn’t felt very good, and my head felt even worse.  I hadn’t even changed out of my clothes the night before, and didn’t take the time to do it then.  No sooner than I had stepped out in the hallway, when Mr. Sam stood up from the chair he’d placed by my door.  “Where do you think you’re going, missy?” he demanded, but calmed down a bit when I responded, “just the outhouse.”  He followed me outside, waited for me, then grabbed my arm and marched me back to my room.  From that point on, he only let me out of the room when I needed to make that same trip again, having the hotel staff bring food to me at mealtimes.  I hadn’t seen Miss Whiskey at all in those two days, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad one.  I didn’t really want the lecture I knew she would give me, but if it was coming I wished she’d just get it over and done with.  Sometime during the second night, while I was asleep the clothes that Cody had bought for me disappeared from my room, leaving only those less revealing dresses that Miss Whiskey had purchased.

 

I was almost ready to give up trying to think of something to do when I heard voices out in the hall.  Putting my ear next to the door, I heard Mr. Sam tell someone that he’d be back in about a half hour, and to not let me leave my room.  After listening to the sound of Mr. Sam’s footsteps go down the hall, I cracked the door just wide enough to see the back of the hotel clerk, he was watching Mr. Sam go down the stairs.  Only a minute or so after Mr. Sam was out of sight, I heard the clerk mutter something about having work to do, then he walked off as well.  That was all the chance I needed, I slipped quietly out into the hall and towards the back staircase, carrying my shoes so I’d make less noise.  I only stopped for a moment on the back porch of the hotel, just long enough to put my shoes back on.  Then I raced towards Mr. Cody’s house, hoping his maid might be there so I could find out what was going on.

 

As I approached the house, I could see two people standing in the front room, so I slowed down and hid in the shadows so I could look in the window.  At first the only person I saw was the red-headed woman, she was still dressed in unmentionables, and seemed to be arguing with someone.  I moved farther over to get a better look, and I couldn’t control the gasp that escaped my lips.  Standing opposite the woman was Cody, looking every bit as alive as I was….how could that be?  I’d seen him get shot by both of those men, he couldn’t possibly be alive, could he?  Unless he had a twin brother, but he’d never mentioned any family.  I realized immediately that I’d made a big mistake in making noise, I hadn’t been loud but both Cody and the woman had obviously heard me, as they both turned and looked at me.  The woman was furious when she saw me standing there, her face turning almost as red as her hair, but Cody just gave me a big smile.  “Calico, darling, there you are…we were just talking about you.  Come on inside, and have a glass of wine with me….we need to talk.”

 

If it had been just him, I might have done exactly that, I wanted to know what in the world was going on, how could he have survived the attack from two nights ago?  And what did he want with me, did he really care about me?  But one glance at the face of the other woman was all it took, I turned tail and ran as fast as I could back to the hotel….hoping that I’d get back in my room before Mr. Sam had returned.  Maybe it was time I had a long talk with Miss Whiskey after all….

 

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

I looked over at Blackwater as he packed his gear.  His training was as far as I could take it.  I pulled a cork and took a long swig before passing the bottle to him.  He tossed back a generous swallow and handed it back.  I put the cork back and dropped it into my saddlebags.

 

"You decided on a blade?" I asked simply and he nodded "Two, if you don't mind.  I think that whip with the blades weaved into the strands might be handy and  . . . well I can't see carrying a sword per se.  That bowie you carry seems handy, saw you had a similar one on the mantle."

 

I gathered up the bullwhip and presented it to him along with the bowie and sheath on my own belt. "That'll have to do, that blade on the mantle . . ." I didn't want to explain and he picked up on the discomfort

 

"This'll do just fine." he remarked

 

I dug into a chest a pulled out a smaller knife with a blade 8" long and a simple sheath and placed them on my gun belt.  I walked over to the mantle and looked at the bowie Blackwater had inquired about, but I dared not touch it-there are worse things than dying, I suppose, but I wasn't in the mood to find out.

[J. Mark Flint #31954 LIFE]

I turned the page in the novel I was reading and the rest of the pages were blank.  What a disappointment!  I thought as I threw the book into the campfire.