Aurora Borealis

Discovery of gold on Bonanza Creek, a tributary of the Klondike River on 17 August 1896, by George and Kate Carmack and their Tagish First Nation friends Dawson Charlie and Skookum Jim, marked the beginning of what is often considered the world's greatest gold rush. The Klondike Gold Rush only lasted until 1899, but its legacy changed the Yukon forever.

"Neither law nor order prevailed, honest persons had no protection from the gang of rascals who plied their nefarious trade," wrote mounted police officer Sam Steele, describing the scene at the base of the treacherous Chilkoot Pass the following spring when over 100,000 men and women arrived in the Yukon. "Might was right; murder, robbery, and petty theft were common occurences."

Avalanches, drownings, typhoid, spinal meningitis and scurvy claimed many lives. Of the tens of thousands who actually made it to the Bonanza, only a handful found fortunes.

Fascination with the discovery of gold lives on in the imagination of every person possessing the spirit of adventure.

Join us in the fictional town of Carmack, located at the confluence of the Klondike and Yukon Rivers. With an influx of over 40,000 people a month, the "town" was more a city -- with an opera house, theaters and at its heart the building where most of our story will take place: a gambling house/saloon/hotel called the Aurora Borealis.

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THE PLAYERS: *Updated*

Lou Service (Maid of Marvels): Owner of the Aurora Borealis, Lou also owns a sawmill and has six mining properties with sixteen men working each claim.

James Masterton (Tibvo): A well-educated Englishman (judging from the accent and mannerisms) in his 30s, he has apparently come to America to make a new life for himself in the 'Land of the Free'.

However, he soon finds that life in the West is not easy, as his rescuer can attest to when he is found (hopefully) half-dead just outside town.

Tad Meriwether (Graybread): 18 year old run away farm boy from Pennsylvania. 6’ 1”, 220 lbs of lean muscle, and broad shoulders. Blue eyes, sandy blonde hair, and the beginnings of a beard. English descent.

Shy, keeping to himself most of the time. Not well educated, but only because he’s not had the chance. Intelligent and a quick learner. Will do anything to earn his way. Helped his father and two younger brothers work the farm, but longed for adventure. Managed to save up $5.00, packed all his belongings, ran away in the middle of the night, and headed for the Yukon.

Rafe Salee (ariosto): Gambler, montebank, pimp and con man...another words an upstanding citizen of Carmack. He has a percentage interest in the 'Aurora' and a string of lusty Fancy Ladies whose amorous abilities and frontier alure have emptied the pockets of many a roughneck and hardcase.
At 48 Rafe is feeling the bite of age, but his dark slender good looks, graying hair and devastating smile still can charm the gold from a skinflint and the knickers off a spinster.

One thing though... Rafe is more than he seems and has a dark and looming secret that may just catch up with him one day... stay tuned.

Tonsillitis Jones (Tonsillitis): A small man with an unusual tendency toward cleanliness, I have long, scraggly hair a hoarse voice. I come into Carmack perty regular, and frequent the Aurora, but I'm never seen with any of Lou's "girls". His claim is just upriver from Lars Linquist, a quiet Swede who never says or does much. He never takes credit or asks for it.

Frenchie Silverheels (Miss Behavin'): She was born Abigail Holbrook (shudder) but Frenchie sounds tres chic, n'est pas?

Lusty, busty and tres jolie, Frenchie left her past behind and created a whole new life for herself in the Yukon. Straight from Paris (Okay, Paris, Texas--but who's quibbling?), she's one of Miss Lou's best girls, stashing the cash while keeping herself in eau de cologne and designer dresses from Paree.

Anna DeSilva (Messalina): Not suited to life as one of the 'girls', Miss Lou had been more than understanding and took Anna under her wing, offering a job as chambermaid. She had quickly proven her worth when the cook had fallen ill and now she ran the kitchen as well as overseeing the housekeeping and the staff Miss Lou employed 'behind the scenes'

Hank "Bull" Garvin (Yoc ODubhthaigh): In his youth, he was known as the Bull due to his size and his stamina. Well liked and respected, he now helps run the bar of the Aurora as well as acting as muscle when it is needed.

For almost a year, he had a very heated and passionate affair with the Aurora's owner, Lou, which they both thoroughly enjoyed. So it did come as a shock when she broke it off shortly after James Masterton turned up. Good naturedly, he accepted Lou's decision and just carried on with his life, even electing to stay on at the Aurora.
Unbeknownst to Lou though, he has not accepted their breakup at all. He knows that the thing with the Brit is only going to be shortlived until she becomes tired of him and come to realise what she is missing with him.

In any event, he is determined to get her back, anyway possible. So far, he has been biding his time.

Superintendent Thor Gunderson, NWMP (Thor's Hammer): In command of NWMP Headquarters based at Fort Belcher, he is responsible for 31 detachments of NWMP (approx. 285 men) and 200 militia (Yukon Field Force) who were brought in to assist the NWMP in guarding prisoners, banks and gold shipments.

Nathaniel (Nate) Tansden (such_a_bad_man): Age: 27 Height: 6'2" Weight: 196 Hair: brown Eyes: brown

When he looked at the reposting orders in his hands, Nate couldn't believe it. He was being moved from the mountains outside of Vancouver for the wintery wastes of the Yukon. He didn't know what he did, but he wished he could ask for forgiveness right now. He would have his hands full in a lawless area like that. He knew what was what and who was who in his patrol area. He'd have to begin all over again. He hoped that he wouldn't be the only man up there to keep order. He may not keep the motto of the NWMP alive in such a wild area. But, he had his orders. He knew that people up there would need his help. Luckily, he had no family to move with him and no wife to keep an eye on. He doesn't know too much about the people up in the north, but he's not sure if he wants to begin his search for a wife there.

Harry Dougan (stalwartone): Dougan is a product of the times. His parents had been practically wiped out by the realities of the war between the Hudson's Bay Company and the Northwestern Company, their dreams of easy wealth working a trading post destroyed by the "scorched earth" policy in the fur trading industry. They managed to muddle through, but their financial situation never rose to a level above the most meager of living.

He himself has attempted every type of industry open to one of his skills and background. Land speculation was a potential until various arguments between the Canadian territories managed to eat his investments. Trail blazing in the high mountains looked good until other methods of transport made mule trains obsolete. Preaching the Good Word made some money for a month or so, but conflicting faiths of the European, Indian, and Hawaiian settlers chased him out of the area. Bounty hunting had possibilities, but too few bounties were actually being paid from too many government groups. The transcontinental railroad through Canada looked promising, but privatization of most of the work near the end meant no money was being paid out past the initial sign up bonus.

Word of the strikes to the north caught his attention, and he slipped away from the minimal branchline work, taking his tools with him as compensation for the lost wages.

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The OOC will be kept alive to discuss issues and plot developments related to the playing thread. OOC and Casting Call: Aurora Borealis

Looking for prospectors, Mounties (they moved into the Yukon Territory in 1894), gamblers, percentage girls, entrepreneurs (the mark-up was a 600% profit!). You name it and you can probably play it.

We would like to see a nice combination of veteran writers and newcomers as well. No part is too large or too small. Please post your characters in the OOC for consideration.

The lady that's known as... Lou

Lou stands quietly looking at the faces of the folk in the Aurora; some happy, some sad, some downright full of despair. These were the faces of men and women who came here with grandiose dreams of striking it rich. Some had done well while others... Well, they hadn't fared quite as well. Yet. There was always tomorrow.

Thunder boomed in the distance, the sound of rain coming down in torrents and the fire crackling in the huge fireplace taking the chill out of the crisp early spring evening... Pouring down. Leaking through a crack in the roof that pa kept promising to fix. Drip... drip... drip... Her thoughts turned back to the day when she first made the decision to take a chance on getting some of the tons of gold and silver that had been discovered in the north.

Last trip into town, there was talk of gold. Gold just laying on the ground for anyone to pick up by the handfuls. Men and women both were going north to Canada to make their fortunes, not knowing if they would ever come back. Nor caring. Some in search of adventure, others just plain desperate for a chance at a better life.

Her ma had raised four girls with sore little help from pa. Not a one of them had prospect of a marriage that would take them from the brink of near-poverty that they so desperately clung to. Now pa lay on his deathbed. What would come of them now?

Lou turned to take a long hard look at her mother. Her face was lined from years of working outdoors in all weather, though she thought most were from worrying. She brushed her cheek gently, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Ma? We have to talk."

"Good Lord, Lou! Can't be anything but trouble when I see that look come on your face. What is it you're planning? As if it matters what I think. You'll do exactly as you please anyhow. Best just blurt it all out at once and get it over with."

"Ma. I'm leaving tomorrow for the north country. I'm gonna strike it rich. I have just as good a chance as anyone else. I can't stay here anymore waiting to see if the next crop will fail. Or worry where the next meal will come from if that happens. I can't bear to hear you crying in the night. You thought I didn't know? I do. And I am going. With or without your blessing. I am going."

"Yes, Lou. I can see that you are." Standing stiffly from where she sat by the fire knitting, ma walked over to the cupboard and pulled down her silver coffee pot. The one she got from her own ma and kept her money in for a rainy day. Emptying it out on the kitchen table, she looked up at her eldest daughter and smiled. "Well, girl. It's as rainy a day as it's ever going to be. You best be taking this to get you through until you make your fortune."

Wrapping her arms tightly around her ma, Lou brushed a stray tear from her cheek. "I'll send this back a thousand fold, ma. You'll see. Now I have to go pack my things. The sun will be coming up sooner than I want it to as is."

By the time Lou got out here she was down to her last fifty cents. Fifty cents wasn't gonna make her or break her. She threw it into the river and headed into town. Never looking back. Never regretting.

A clap of thunder brought her back to the Aurora Borealis and the sound of Tapp's piano and Dan's booming voice singing one of his favorite songs. That Dan! Shaking her head and smiling broadly, Lou walked over to him and Frenchie to pour them another round.

Introducing John "Cowboy" Thomson

The mighty hills of the Yukon rose before him, the sun light skipping along the sheer white scenery before filling his blue eyes with a blinding glare. It was a magnificent kingdom, a land that turned the year like a day. The great sun would rise, and remain in its glory for six months, before falling and submitting the rest of the year to the moon’s alabaster vigil. In his lungs, John felt the crisp freshness of a primordial air. Great creatures and people of the past had breathed the oxygen that sustained him now, and he could taste the wondrous history on his lips. The scent of it was thicker than the ice which covered the ground beneath him.

The mountains leapt up from the ground like great kings, crowned in the angelically pure white of the heavens. When they were content, the sun rose between their peaks and cascaded down their slopes. When the kings were angry, a frigid wind swept over the land and snow fell ferociously upon the trails. Their kingdom was full of subjects, great pine trees that stood tall and bundled against the wintry chill that forever gripped this great land. John looked out upon the trio of crowns that surrounded his cabin; a smile tugged his lips upwards as he lost himself in thoughts.

How much of your treasure will you share with us today, lords of the Yukon?

He asked without hope for an answer, and silently thanked them for the good weather. John heard the pleasant snort of his horse, and let his gaze linger on the great mountains for another moment. Again the animal demanded his attention, and the man turned his back on the rising sun and paced into the stable.

“Lucky the weather broke today, huh boy?” He crooned to the horse, patting its sleek neck before sliding the feeder bag over its tawny head.

The horse answered him with the sound of chewing, pausing to exhale sharply and send geysers of mist from its black nostrils. The man smiled despite himself, moving over to the worn leather saddle and pulling it down. He worked quickly, preparing the horse for the ride down into town. There was alcohol to buy, and cards to play. He needed a new hammer, and more cartridges for his rifle.

Carmack…he hated the place.

The streets were always broken and muddy, and between the hastily constructed wooden buildings putrid streams of muddy water flowed. There were crooks, thieves, bitter prospectors, gnarled bear hunters, and chaos to boot. Many loved the town, which was fairly busy at all times of year. The thoughts prompted John to head back into his cabin, whistling sharply as he began to fasten on his gun belts.

He was answered by a bark, crisp and clean that reverberated through the cabin and warmed John to the core. He turned with a grin, pulling on his old leather “cowboy” hat and headed back to the stable. The dog pulled up from the side of the cabin, walking in stride with its master. The large, pink tongue rolled out of its mouth and its hide seemed to shine in the early morning sun. It was a sleek, powerful creature, with thick black fur and brown patches. The Alsatian was a rare, beautiful dog…and John loved him dearly.

“Come on, King!” The man shouted, before mounting his horse.

The dog immediately jumped out front, and the trio began their ride down into town.

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As they approached the town King got anxious, and closed in besides his master. The horse’s iron hooves kicked up mud and grit with each stride. All around him, John saw desperation. It was written into the worn faces of the longer prospectors, marked by creases and wrinkles, scars and scabs. He saw it in the bright eyes of new comers, who had yet to live through a Yukon winter, whose sleds were overfilled with expensive junk. All around him people laughed and conversed, gambled and flirted. A few had Indian girls slaving over them, and John sighed softly.

He shopped swiftly, and efficiently. Using what little gold nuggets he actually had to pay for his goods. They were stuffed quietly in his satchel, and then slung onto his horse. A piano was audible nearby, pulling his attention to the Aurora. John lifted a gloved hand, rubbing his squared jaw before tying his horse and approaching the establishment’s doors.

He pushed through the heavy wooden door, the audible squeal of the weathered hinges smothered by laughter and the murmur of conversation. Whiskey bottles clinked, chairs squealed as they were pulled out from tables, and the piano rose and fell in the rhythm of a quick tune. John’s metallic eyes fought to deal with the sudden change in light, peering across the dimly lit room through a haze of tobacco smoke. Briefly he felt his lips tugged upwards, but the feeling passed before an actual smile could present itself. His deft fingers tugged at the gloves he was wearing, stuffing them into his coat pocket before he leaned on the dark wood bar. A boot rose, resting on the foot rail as he made his order.

He tossed a glance outside, and noticed King sitting on the ground besides his horse. The animal was a pretty incredible companion, and new better than to come inside. For a moment the “Cowboy” admired him, wishing he could be so content in nature and stay away from the hookers and booze of the boom town. Deep down, however, he knew he thrived on a bottle of whiskey and a room full of legs to stare at. His inner nature tore him apart, and he soothed the ragged edges that remained with the hard heat of his drink. It went down like sand paper, grinding down the sides of his torn heart into two smooth lines that would briefly fit together once again. He lifted his eyes to the other patrons, and poured himself another glass.

He had a long day ahead of him.

The Entrepreneur Adventurer - René Delacroix

*The crack of thunder didnt make the mind of this old Campaigner Jump, though he was sorely tempted to. He was reminded of the little forays down to Africa, before he had come up here. In that insanely wild place where civilized man could not touch. He had had a few exciting moments down there, when everything was subject to a single toss of Nature's dice..and every time, he had come out alive. As if he lived some sort of charmed existance, despite dozens of setbacks, and dozens more mistakes, René Delacroix could come out of anything, covered in glory and hands full of riches, the promise of easier times ahead. Which was NOT what Rene wanted. He puffed away at a pipe remaniscent of Sherlock Holmes, and blew smoke rings from the corner he sat in, looking a little brooding and thoughtful. He had managed to come up to the Yukon with plenty of excitement. That avalanche not far from the Border, the loss of his guide not 50 miles from the town, The collapsing of his raft...He had had plenty of excitement getting here, that was for sure. And now he was here, fairly well off and still with enough money to keep him going. He had already hired two dozen workabouts to mine his 3 claims, and was already negotiating for 2 more claims with various businessmen who dealed in such things. But business was not exciting. René had already led his men into two of his inital claims, working hard with both..and already there were dozens of promising signs in those. Gold Dust in the little ponds near them, and his chief worker swearing blind that they had a literal mine beneath the third claim. But no more adventure, no more excitement and once again he was getting restless. He had already approached several men on the prospect of going into the more dangerous mountain territories to search for gold in the upper reaches of the range not far from here. He too, recalled what had led him to this place, the thrill he had felt when he saw that headline..*

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'GOLD IN THE YUKON!!'

*Exclaimed the headline of the paper sitting on the broad business desk before the smartly dressed young man. Several old investors, and a few young ones who were taking the places of their fathers who had recently died, he smiled at them*

Gentlemen, Im sure you've seen this.

*He nudged the paper towards the men, all of whom nodded somewhat solemnly at the man, he stood up, turning towards window*

Gentlemen, while this is an opportunity none of us can afford to pass up. Im certain all of you would not want me to go. The obvious danger, and the impossible risk of such a venture. They said the same things when I originally contacted all of you about our original business deals. Now all of you are considerably more wealthy than you were then. I propose I go myself up to this Yukon, find ourselves a great cache of Gold, and use it to further all of our business intrests.

*The older men looked highly skeptical, while the hotblooded youngsters saw visions of countless gold nuggets and mountains of gold dust dance before their eyes*

I am leaving for North Carolina within the week, where I will take the fastest train possible into Canadian territory, and make my way from there. You gentlemen will be informed of my progress as quickly as can be.

*Though all the oldsters looked mutinious, they quailed under the impassive gaze of this man who had increased their fortunes tenfold with his insight*

I will require your assistance in assuring my smooth passage into canada. Make certain the papers are on my desk by friday. Wish me luck....

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*Wish me luck. His last words to those fools who called themselves businessmen. Tapping the ashes from his pipe, he tucked it away into his coat, and rubbed his eyes from minor fatigue. Standing, he made his way towards the bar this place boasted..determined to keep awake until word from his stakes came in...After all. Even though there was a lack of adventure, he still had business to attend to...*

Tad Meriwether makes it to Carmack

Tad stood by the road, his Kentucky long rifle slung across his arms, and looked down the muddy, rutted street into the town. Carmack he had heard someone call it. It didn’t look like much of a town, not like the town back home, five miles from the farm. The farm that he had run away from, where his family still was. His Pa had bought the land ten years ago and all that Tad knew was to work the land and hunt. How to plow the fields, plant corn, harvest it, and shoot deer. It was the shooting that had sustained Tad’s life as he had made his way to the Yukon. It was the drive for adventure that had caused him to leave the farm. He had read, with his Ma’s help, in the local newspaper, about the Yukon, and the gold rush. It was his Ma that had taught him to read and write, even though he wasn’t a good reader; he reckoned he knew enough to get by.

It had been on the weekly, going to church Sunday that he had found the paper, laying on a bench in the town square. He had been sitting there trying to read it when Becky Hampton had sat down beside him. He liked Becky, she just made him all flustered and confused and befuddled his mind so he didn’t know what he was thinking. He had asked his Ma about Becky, why she did that to him. She had replied that sometimes girls just did that to young boys. But not to worry, someday he would marry and he would do what comes naturally. He had no idea what that meant, but he trusted his Ma.

He heard music coming from a building down the street. He tried to read the sign on the building:

“Aur … Aurora Bor … Aurora Bore …,” he said to himself, aloud, trying to pronounced the words.

“Aurora Borealis,” a stranger said, passing by. “Means Northern Lights, a good place to stay away from,” he added, heading down the street.

Maybe I can get a job there, Tad thought to himself. If I’m going to be a prospector, I reckon I’ll need some money to get started.

He walked down to the Aurora Borealis, stopped at the swinging doors, and looked in. After a moment of indecision he entered and went to the bar, looking for someone who might be in charge.

Hanna Monroe

"Eat up gentlemen" I encouraged the 5 men sitting around the long table. I had just sat a huge platter of hot cakes down, joining the other platters of bacon and sausage and fried potatoes. Light fluffy biscuits and homemade gravy rounded out breakfast today and everyday here at Monroe House.

The men looked nothing like the gentlemen callers that used to come to my parents home back east. They were coarse rough men, but they all treated me with respect and maybe even some affection, as if for a sister. At Monroe House they could rent a room for ten dollars a week, This included two meals a day, breakfast and dinner. If they wanted to pay me another dollar a week, I would do their wash when I did my own.

I refilled coffee mugs, and removed the used dishes as the men made short work of the food in front of them. There was little conversation as they plowed through the meal.One by one they finished up and left for the day. Remarks like "Good vittles Miss Hanna." and "Thankee Miss Hanna." were called over their shoulders as they went out.

I cleared the table, carrying the dishes into my kitchen. I had water pumped right into my kitchen, a luxury in this town. It was the last thing Spence had done for me, before he died.Oh Spence, I miss you so much.

Sometimes the pain would sweep over me catching me unaware. Most of the time, at least in the daytime, I could keep busy. But times like this, I could hear his laughing voice, telling me how nothing was too good for 'his sunshine girl'. He was determined I would never regret leaving my parents and their wealth to follow him to this Godforsaken land.I never regretted anything I left behind, the only thing I regretted was losing my Spence to death.

I soon had the kitchen spotless and decided to go over to the store and see if there was any fresh fruit to be had. I thought the men might enjoy a nice cobbler for dessert tonight to go with the chicken and dumplings I already had planned.

I tied my bonnet on and walked through town. It was raining but I managed to stay mostly dry as I made my way down the street. The Aurora Borealis was already doing a booming business. I could already hear music. "They sure start early" I thought. I peeked in as I walked by, feeling a bit lonely, hearing all the laughter and music.

Calley Fitzgerald

Calley sat on the bed of the small attic room she had just managed to afford at the Aurora. She carefully counted the coins scattered on the blanket and knew she had to do something, and soon.

I had been a hardscrabble existence for Calley all her young life. The famine back home - as she still called Ireland - had forced her parents and baby brother to leave their farm for Dublin. Dublin teemed with families in the same boat. Not a job was to be found so in desperation, her Da took their last belongings to sell for the fare to the New World "-and a new life!" He'd said enthusiastically.

To young Calley and her brother Liam it had been an adventure; even the roughest seas didn't affect her although poor Ma was sick as a dog the whole journey. In New York her father quickly found work as a Smith shoeing horses for a cab company. It seemed to Calley that they had found paradise but Calley's father was restless. He took them by wagon train across the country to San Francisco where he gambled a great deal and fell on hard times.
One night Da had sat the three down, Calley, Liam and Ma. "There's a chance to strike it rich up North." He said, his face shining in the candlelight. "We're off to Canada to seek a fortune, my dears."

They had joined a wagon train that week and started what seemed a never-ending trek northward. Calley was sure the edge of the world was just over the next mountain. Ma got sick first, typhus roared through the already sickly travellers. Next Liam and then Da had died in her arms. Alone and too young, she mindlessly followed the wagons until they had arrived at Carmack where she met Lou who had taken pity on her. "…and thank the good Lord for that." Thought Calley



Standing, she smoothed her skirts and, looking into a small piece of polished tin, fluffed her dark curls. "You'll do, my girl." She said aloud, pinching each cheek to bring some colour.'" Here we go!" And she left her humble room to go and look for some paying work.

Her accent betrayed her Irish heritage as did her looks. She carried herself with far more confidence than she felt right then. She stepped lightly down the stairs towards the noise and warmth, squeezing past painted ladies as they climbed with their gentlemen --- although Calley knew they were no gentlemen from the way the leered at her..

Glancing across the large smoky room she saw Lou standing pensively by the bar, one hand resting on the polished glowing wood, the other at her heart. She had been kind to Calley, giving her reasonable rates for the room and allowing her to eat with the girls. Calley saw her walk across to the piano to watch the man's fingers dance on the keys. "She has a lovely smile, does Lou." Thought Calley

Now she stood at the door behind which her future possibly sat. She knocked lightly.

Colin sighed as he leaned against the hitching post. His hole filled shoes gripped against the small assortment of pebbles in the mud, making him shift his feet. They found more suitable holdings, as he brushed his dark brown curls from his eyes, checking through the corner of his eyes at the passerbye's. An old woman carrying packages, some redskins trying their best to earn a buck any way they can, and a man sleeping it off next to the bar.
No one noticing.
With little effort, his hand snaked inside one of the satchels. The little burlap flapped molded around his forced entry, as his blind fingers searched for something of importance.
Gold was in the back of his mind, but at this point even a biscuit or two would be appreciated.
A dog barked. Colin snapped back, nearly jumping in the air as his hand lashed out of the satchel. The dog, a growling mutt, continued to threaten him, barking under the horse, which didn't seem to mind much.
Colin looked around, to see if it had attracted any unwanted attention. The only person who seemed to move was the drunk, but he looked through bloodshot eyes only long enough to realize it was just a dog, and then fell back into his belated stupor.
Colin walked off before anyone else decided to take notice of him. In his hands he held nothing more than a tin cup. Something used for morning coffee or a nice drink through one of the crystal clear rivers that flowed through his valley like honey in a promised land.
Not gold, hell not even a biscuit, but it didn't look that bad, pretty new actually. If nothing else he could get a few pennies for it.
Perhaps even a nickel, if the metal it was made out of were any good. He bit it, checking. Hard as a rock, none of that soft shit some of the local merchants tried to pass off.
Down the street he saw another horse hitched to a post that looked reasonably unguarded.
His lucky day after all.

Superintendent Thor Gunderson

......sighing audibly, Thor contemplated his office. Fort Belcher was not exactly Montreal, but it was peaceful. With Mounties scattered all over the Territory, the days were long and filled with problems. Just last week, one of the troopers was killed by a drunken prospector. Justice, however, was swift, and the prospector would pan no more. 'Hanging Fred' meted out punishment at a pace that kept the jails relatively empty.

'I suppose I had better go on over to Carmack tomorrow,' I thought. Sergeant Provon only had two men, and the influx of gold crazy tenderfeet made for a dangerous situation. Although the Mountie was LAW, some of these likkered up fools did not respect the law. Provon's reports were increasingly nervous. He was just promoted and is not proven as a commander.

'Perhaps I should send a company of the Yukon Field Force to help,' I mused.... 'I had better go over there and see what is going on...'

"Joan," I yelled out the door, "I am going to Carmack first thing in the morning. Tell Corporal Bligh to be ready at dawn."

Sgt. Derick Provon


It was refreshing to finally step out of my little office. Being the Sergeant at Arms for Detachment 12 NWMP, I don't get much of a chance to strech my legs as I used too. Back when I was a patrolman, I was with the 24th Detachement outside of Montreal. Finally after 4 long years, in order to get a promotion, I have to transfer my commission to the NWMPs, which meant I had to travel to the new Northwest Territories. I liked the Town of Carmack, especially the Aurora. No where in this territory have I found such wonderful place. Good food, good liquor, and the most beautiful women. Most of all Miss Frenchie, she reminds me of my Montreal days. Taking in a breath of fresh air,I check my Colt Army .45, the one I took from some Yank bandit I caught trying to cross Le St. Lurent, I stroll over to my beautiful black horse, Triumph, and ride into town, Not stopping until I get to the Aurora. When I arrive, I have a stable boy bring Triumph to the livery, and walk inside. "Bustling as usual, eh Miss Lou?" I say in passing as I walk over to my favorite table.

Miss Lorena Ana Mercado

Her waist length black hair was tied in a festive knot at her nape, slightly off centered, a red fan from Spain jutted from the side of the luminous coil. Her blouse was of the finest cotton, imported, and hugged her voluptuous but tiny frame; her skirt, the same cotton, but in red flowed with flare to cover her feet, her shawl draped over her arms in a sheer delicate see-through silk, a large red rose embroidered upon it was quite unsuited for the harsh climate. She wore no jewelry but a silver crucifix against her chest.

She had a newspaper folded in her delicately gloved hands as she stepped from the stage coach with a regal air. Her soft leather boots were smudged with the dust the second they hit the road.

Her personal 'guide' was already taking her trunks and things to ...if she could remember correctly, the Monroe House. She had wired a week ago for her best room to be prepared.

She shook open the newspaper, taking it between her fingers carefully, as to not smudge the ink upon her gloves. There before her was her ad.


She couldn't help but smile.
http://my.execpc.com/~monique/.photos/avatars/Untitled1.jpg

Phillipe, her guide, had his arm on her elbow already, guiding her towards her bank.

She gasped aloud and dropped the newspaper as it came into view.

It was gorgeous. The large glass window up front had a large etched rose. The words:

The Bank of Aurora Borealis,
Banco de Aurora Borealis

Was etched in script beneath, and a large wooden sign, a carved rose upon it too, had heavy rolling script above the door...it swung gently in the breeze.

She walked up the steps. Phillipe, turned her "Aqui" he said, as he dropped the gilded key in her hand. The building did not fit the rough setting it was in, the buildings around it roughly put together.

She opened the door, it still smelled of the freshly cut woods, her boots echoed their dainty sound into the empty room.

A large desk, the vault, and vases and vases of flowers were scattered about.

A desk should have been in the back, along with another safe...

It was perfect.

She turned, tears of joy in her eyes as she thanked Phillipe, taking his hands between her own, "Gracias Phillipe, muchas gracias..." She smiled.

"Your things are at the Monroe House, I can escort you there."

"Sí, I would like to rest."

And so she followed him, it was not a far walk.

She looked to the hot midday sun, it beat down upon her tanned skin.

She could smell prosperity in the air.
It was just a matter of time now, before they brought their gold and money to her to keep safe...loans....and she just couldn't help but smile.

Her papá would be so proud.

Tamara Washbrook aka Victoria

Prostitution had been the only chioce for Tamara even in the prosperous city of San Francisco. Her parents had abandoned her early on in life leaving her alone to fend for herself in the cold dreary orphanage. No one wanted to take her in because of her looks. Mixed raced, especially hers was not wanted as a child. Then Rafe found her and took her in.

It had been a long time since that time had passed. Around ten years now. With Rafe helping her, she had become successful in her trade and a high demand.

A slight shiver ran though her spine. It has been weeks since the last bit of thunder had passed by this place. Throughout it all she had not been scared of this strangeness that surrounded her constantly.

Time here in gold country passed by so slowly for Tamara that each day flooded into the next and all became one long drawn out period of time.

Peering out from the window of her small room where she served her costomers Tamara smiled at the business of the town. New and old all wandered the streets rushing about their day.

It was time to get back to getting ready. Quickly she finished getting dressed and headed to the porch outside where she stood waiting for customers to arrive.

Tonsillitis Jones

A Mule In The Rain

Tonsillitis Jones carefully led the hackneyed mule through the torrential rains. Blazing blue flashes illuminated the trail then blinded in their absence. The echoing roar of the thunder pounding on the ears. The mule danced at the lead, but Tonsillitis held firm. This load was going through.

The load was ponderous, but by God it would be the last. The fire of the bush madness burned deeply, and the mule felt the keen sting of the leather often. Mud holes and deep running waters, each traversed cautiously, and in the distance, hopefully before nightfall was the town, a hot meal, and a dry bed.

Tonsillitis had trouble remembering being dry, or warm for that matter. When the weather even looked like it was getting warm, those dang black flies and Satan's mosquitoes tore the flesh from your bones, and the incessant whine of the deer flies was enough to drive anyone insane. The only salvation from hell's own spawn was the bitter cold, a cold that dug deep into the bones and held fast. The water was cold, the air was cold, the gold was cold, and in time the people were cold too. A strange soulless cold wedged into the heart, a cold so firmly entrenched that no fire would ever burn hot enough to thaw.

Ahead, the saloon and shelter. Behind, the dead body of Lars Lindquist. Tonsillitis was amazed by that, the body half in Patterson's creek, and half on the shore, three clear holes in the back, and the gun just lying there on the ground. Who ever shot Lars sure did not want to get away with it.

Tonsillitis was certain who it was too. There was only one man with a gun like that in the whole territory, and that man was... No doubt the law would be quick as always, and there would be a hanging before next winter. Tonsillitis would hang around just long enough to see that.

Rafe Salee


There was a knock at the door and Tamara rushed to open it. It was who she'd expected.
The tall form of Rafe Salee stood there blocking the sunlight, dressed as usual in black and silver he always seemed more somber than he was.

"Hang on a minute Rafe, I'll get it."
She turned for her dresser where her nights earnings were kept in a rolled up silk stocking but Rafe's long fingered hand stopped her.

"That can wait, Littlebit."
He bent down and kissed her on the lips, his hand closing like a glove over her breasts.
Rafe had a strong 'up front and personal' policy where his girls were concerned.
This one was a little spitfire to be sure.
She broke away and wiped her lips.

"No..not now, I'm still..."

He laughed,
"Don't worry Miss Victoria, I won't sully your reputation any futhuh."
His accent betrayed an origin far to the south in a fabled land of cotton trees and white magnolias.

"Now get your jacket, it's cold out. We have a young lady to greet."


Rafe's office was next to Lou's off the busy lobby of the Aurora. It was a sybarites dream of red velvet and gilt, with paintings on the walls that would have embarassed Lucifer himself.
Tamara was used to them. She made herself comfortable while Rafe lit a long cheroot and passed her a mug of coffee.

"Who is it Rafe, a local girl?"

He blew a smoke ring at the cieling and settled in behind the desk.

"Nope a new gal, named Calley. Lou says she'll do just fine."

They didnt wait long.
The knock came and Salee looked at his watch.
Five minutes early...good. The kid must be desperate.

Hanna Monroe

The house was smelling wonderful. I had a pot of chicken simmering slowly on the stove.The cobbler was cooking in the oven. I hadn't been able to find fresh fruit, but the dry goods store had some canned peaches. So tonight it was to be a peach cobbler. I was humming to myself as I went about dusting and making sure everything was in perfect condition. I wouldn't tolerate anything else.

Hearing a knock on my door, I hurried to answer it. It was men from the stage coach, delivering two large trunks. They looked wet and miserable as the weather hadn't improved at all since I had ventured out.

"We was told to deliver these here." one burly man said. Looking at the name on the trunks, I realized they belonged to Senorita Mercado.Well that must mean she had arrived in town finally. I had the men carry the heavy trunks upstairs for me.

After the men left, I double checked the room making sure everything was in order. Giving her the room Spence and I had shared was the hardest decision I had made so far. But she wanted the best. Well she was getting it and I would make sure she paid for the privilege.

"Enough feeling sorry for yourself, Hanna Monroe." I told myself sternly. Moving swiftly, I checked on the food cooking, then made sure there was a fresh pitcher of water in Senorita Mercado's room. I assumed she wouldn't be far behind her luggage. It was getting time to finish up dinner. I hoped she wouldn't be put off by the roughness of the others staying here

Victoria

She followed him to the office and sat at his side in a high backed chair, taking the cup of coffee in her hand.

"I think I saw her from the balcony Rafe. Shee looks as though she will fit in nicely here. Pretty one. Oh and by the way, who is my first apointment today? I must prepare for his desires."

I smoothed the wrinkle in my dress as a knock was heard at the door.

Calley waited, straining to hear a sound beyond the door and above the noise from the saloon behind her.

All she could hear was the thump of her heart beneath the bodice of her Sunday dress. Distantly she heard the command to enter and she lifted the latch to enter.

She had seen Mr Salee in the saloon and around town. She felt intimidated by his dark good looks but Lou had reassured Calley he was a “fine upstandin’ gennleman..”

Taking a deep breath Calley pushed the door open and peered in.

What she saw made her blanch. The walls were a rich red, heavy velvet curtains hung at the windows and, covering most of the walls in fancy gilt frames were pictures --- well!

She just stood and stared at the paintings, her mouth open. Ma would roll in her grave – and Pa? It didn’t bear thinkin’ about.

Constable Jake Readings

“Enjoying the lovely, cold and damp weather, eh, Mr. Pickings?” as Jake watched the grizzled man, chopping firewood for the winter woodpile of the NWMP detachment in Carmack. It was not a big hanging offense, just some drunken brawling with the other man, Mr. Knowles, who was stacking the faggots in neat piles just behind the wooden building that was the home and office of the Carmack NWMP. Just two weeks work of fresh air and exercise.

Jake stretched his legs in a fake show of boredom, when his heart and mind was still pumping with excitement ever since he got accepted into the force. The government in Ottawa was adamant about establishing Canadian presence in the North-West, and what better way, and cheap too, than to send in the NWMP, whom most were veterans of the Plains. The threat of the wild and unruly Americans cannot be overstated.

Jake was absently toying with his brand new Colt .44 Caliber Model 1878. The newer Colt .455 New Service Model was still a few years ahead. He had taken to shining the sidearm ever since he arrived. It had not been fired at all, and deep in his heart, he hoped that he will never have to fire his weapon. The same goes for his Lee-Enfield .303 Mark I Rifle. Both weapons are spotless, and oiled, almost to the extreme. When he tired of his weapon, Jake toyed absently as well, with his new Stetson hat, especially the silk, grosgrain ribbon hatband. The Stetson, the new unofficial symbol of the NWMP, was much preferred over the white and heavy Pattern Cork Helmet.

The night comes quickly here, out in the North-West. It was not the creeping type, but fast and enveloping. The thick woods surrounding the town was ominous to say the least. Tall shadows hid everything, or anyone.

The thickening breaths and looming shadows announced to Jake that the day’s chores had ended for the two “criminals”. The Station’s lockup was small, as it was hoped that a large one was not needed. Carmack, in the eyes of Superintendent Gunderson, was going to be a peaceful and quiet frontier prospecting town, quite unlike the shanty and rowdy Gold Rush towns of the Western United States. Moreover, the dreaded Yukon “Blue Ticket” was a handy tool if anyone was foolish enough to challenge the authority of the NWMP.

“What to do now…” As Jake laced up the instep on his boots, and tightened the gusset on the upper calf. He does indeed looked splendid in his uniform and shiny boots, although the mud outside would soon tarnish all these hard work, from the very first steps outside the door.

“What to do now…” was to walk a short patrol around Carmack, as Sergeant Provon was more than likely be already at Aurora’s. Spring in the Yukon Valley would surely bring the hordes of prospectors, the inevitable “Stampede”. It was Jake duty to keep the peace, collect taxes from these miners, as well as registering the claims. So much paperwork, with so little time, that it was quite understandable that Jake still had no girlfriend…

The cheery flames of candles shown brightly through the curtains of Miss Hanna’s boarding house. Jake was sorely tempted to go inside and taste some of Miss Hanna’s fine cooking. But his duties permitted no such luxury, yet. He passed the new bank, the Banco de Aurora Borealis. It was really a nice little building, quite cute in fact. Well, one more thing to worry about, the protection of the bank from unscrupulous people, and the expected “sweepings of the slums” as Sam Steele had put it so succinctly.

Carmack could be a very nice town, with more upstanding citizen like Mr. Salee. A thoroughly respected businessman. And with the guidance of Sergeant Provon, a veteran of the Plains, Jake was sure that his future was very bright, in this the new frontier of the Yukon District. Yes indeed, Carmack was the place to be…

Anna DeSilva

Anna blew an incorrigible wisp of hair from her face and sighed, the heat from the stoves had brought a rosy flush to her cheeks and a thin sheen of sweat to her brow as she worked. It hardly seemed nine months since she had arrived in Carmack. Where had the time gone?

Like everyone else, Anna thought she was going to 'strike it rich' in Yukon Territory. High ambitions for a simple Italian girl from Syracuse, New York. She had come over with her eldest brother and his family. They had eight children and the tiny house was crowded, to say the least. Anna had begun to feel like an intruder in what was meant to be her home.

When she had read about the gold strike, Anna knew this was an opportunity of a lifetime. Packing what few belongings she had, she took the coward's way out and left a note, sneaking away in the middle of the night.

The journey had been long and hard, but she had arrived in Carmack after months of travel not much worse for the wear. She took a room at Monroe House, got cleaned up and went in search of work. Senora Hanna had suggested the Aurora Borealis, and that was her first stop. And last.

They were looking for girls. Puttana. Could she? Dare she? The pay was good. Perhaps until she found something 'better'? There just didn't seem much else for her to do and Anna agonized over the decision for days. Perhaps just until she earned enough to do something else... Anna chuckled at her ingenuità.

It had been a disaster from the start. She had fled in tears from her first appointment. The man had been kind, but she had been so nervous that she was sick all over him. Not the best way to entertain a customer.

Miss Lou had been more than understanding and took Anna under her wing, offering a job as chambermaid. She had quickly proven her worth when the cook had fallen ill and now she ran the kitchen as well as overseeing the housekeeping and the staff Miss Lou employed 'behind the scenes'. Life was good for Anna DeSilva, even if a little lonely.

Victoria

I watched as the young girl squirmed under the watch of Rafe as a few laughs escaped my lip. I had always enjoyed the new girls on their first interview.

I stood and approached her and took a good look at her features.

"Kinda plain rafe. Not at all like the other exotics I know you like." My hand came to rest on his shoulder as I stood next to him.

John Thomson

As John stared candidly into the bottom of his whiskey glass, the cheery piano music began to scrape at his temper. He rose from his seat after swallowing the last drops of amber heat, and made his way to the player. A few of the men looked up from their gambling, girls, or grits and shot the former Ranger a wary glance.

“May I play?” His words were weighted with gravel, and the shadows that were cast over his face masked his muse.

“I dunno, can you?” shot back the pianist, who’s eyes had narrowed.

Silence was the man’s answer, and John stood stoically in line for his turn at the bench. The few laughing patrons soon went silent as their humor was met with an uneasy confidence. The pianist yielded to John’s request, slowly sliding from the seat and speaking a bit more humble. “Just a couple songs, I need a break anyways.”

“Thank you.” John nodded, sliding his powerful build onto the small wooden stool. His boot pressed down against one of the worn, brass pedals. His calloused fingers, hardened from work and wear, moved nimbly over the ivory keys. He favored Chopin, and the long drawn out piano ballad filled the saloon with a more somber, cultured atmosphere. His blues eyes closed as he concentrated, drowning out his troubles with chord after chord.

He had remained a recluse in the eyes of Carmack’s inhabitants; those who knew him avoided him when they could. Claim jumping was frowned upon, but John had always ignored the boundaries set by prospectors during his first months in the Yukon. It had ended a month ago when he was confronted in the streets in a scene reminiscent of his days in the Midwestern United States. It had ended swiftly, with a man lying in the cold mud after John had outdrawn him. His reputation had been soured since, and there were few places he could go without eyes falling unfavorably upon him.

Yet, his silence had made him a bit of a town mystery. Often discussed, and gossiped over, John was now rumored to be an outlaw train robber, and had killed his own parents when he turned 18. It was all foolish, but young women cowered as he came by, while attempting to steel glimpses of his handsome face. Very few had actually seen the color of his eyes.

John took Lou to be a reasonable woman, and had spoken to her briefly on a few occasions. She treated him like everyone else, perhaps just to keep him from going elsewhere, but none the less it was a brief moment of humility that John thrived on. He spent quite a bit of money here, attempting to keep his reputation from falling any worse. His abilities on a piano caused many to lift and eyebrow, but John paid no heed.

Tad Meriwether

Tad had never been inside a saloon before. They had one back home but his Pa had never allowed him inside. He had peeked in the windows on occasion, but had never seen anything like this place had. Load piano playin and foot stompin, full of men drinking whiskey, he guessed, and smokin. And the ladies, Lordy, he had never seen anything like that before either. All painted up and smellin like flowers or something. And them dresses they wore, why he could see clean up past their knees, and half their bosoms was bout to fall out.

He backed up tight against the bar as one of the ladies walked past him, running her hand across his broad chest.

“Hi handsome,” she said, smiling up at him. “Looking for a good time?”

“Ah…ah hi ma’am,” he stammered, blushing full red. Wiping his hat off, remembering to be courteous, and crushing it in his hand. “Ah no ma’am, I’m just lookin fer a job.”

“To bad,” she replied. “A strong healthy, young man like yourself could probably go all night.”

“Yes ma’am, me and Pa sometimes picked corn all night durin harvest season.” He said proudly.

“I’ll bet you did,” she smirked, as she patted his chest, then turned and walked away.

Just then, the music changed, and everybody stopped to listen. It was no longer the rowdy, cheery kind of music that tended to jar the nerves. This was music that made you want to stop and listen. It reminded Tad of the hymns that Mrs. Bigalow played back at the church, only better. Tad stood there and listens, until he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He spied a young woman dragging a heavy bag of flour across the floor. She wasn’t dressed like the other women, so he guessed her to be working here. He rushed over to help her.

“’Pardon me ma’am,” he said, grabbing the heavy bag. “But a lady aughtin have to tote such a heavy weight.”

He leaned his Kentucky rifle against the wall, easily tossed the 100lb bag over his shoulder, grabbed his rifle, and headed for the kitchen door.

“My names Tad ma’am,” he started. “Do you work here? I was hopin to get a job here too, but I don’t know who the boss man is. Do you know who the boss man is, ma’am? My Pa says I’m strong as an ox … and just as dumb.” He laughed at his joke. “Ma says I aint dumb, I just aint had no book learnin, cept what she taught me. I can read and write some, but can’t do no ciphers. Were you wantin this flour ma'am?”

Senorita Lorena Ana Mercado

Phillipe excused himself quickly...and it began to rain and the darkness would begin soon.

Running her gloved hands down the still cool cotton, she only noticed the rain as it darkened the red fabric in heavy cool droplets.

Turning her face to the sky she looked hopelessly down the almost empty main street.

As quick as her small feet could take her she found shelter in an overhang...trying to find the Monroe House.

The wood of the 'walkways' that connected some of the buildings were already grey with age, some you could see the newness in the wood. The rain poured down now, so heavy the darkness had no choice but to loom in.

She was lost.

In a tiny town, she was lost for a moment.

She thought she could cross the main street, it's dust packed with the pouring rain, perhaps she wouldn't get too wet...perhaps the Monroe house was there.

It was.

Soaked clean through...her hair had even fell from the carefully bound knot.

Knocking politely on the door she could smell the aromas of food.

Her mouth watered.

When no one came quickly, she opened the door, her hunger betraying her manners.

Mr Salee snapped at me to hurry up get in there, he stood there looking at me like I had no clothes on at all. I felt myself blushing and heard a sort of sniggering laugh; there was another girl there, older than me. She was dark like me but with darker skin, painted lips and hard, judging eyes. I looked away quickly because she was laughing at my awkwardness.

I turned to see if I might get out back to my room but Mr Salee was standing against the door, sort of smiling at me, which just made me blush more.

He questioned me about my skills, I tried to tell him how I’d been a good help to Ma and all the ladies on the journey over and the other girl sniggered at me again. She got a sharp look from Mr Salee and he asked me. “ Don’t you know what we want you for?” He took my face by my chin and tilted it this way and that.

Then he asked if I’d been in the service of any men. I was terrified that it meant I’d not get work because I hadn’t yet been in service, I started to cry to think I’d end my days starved in the cold.

I was shocked when Mr Salee asked me, point-blank, if I was a virgin! That he needed whores, not seamstresses. I was just going to reply how it was none of his business when the other girl sashayed over and looked hard at me.

“Kinda plain.” She snorted. “Not like the exotics you like, Rafe.” And she sort leaned on him smirking at me all the while. I could tell she didn’t like me.

I straightened my spine and looked that Mr Sallee right in the eye and said that I was, indeed, a virgin and proud of it. The girl gave a snort of laughter and Mr Salee turned away saying wearily. “Well, then, Calley, we have no work for you here.”

My eyes filled again and I thought I’d faint dead away because I knew I had no choice. “I could learn, sir, please don’t turn me out. Maybe I could do work for the other girls – anything. Please, sir!” I begged him.

In my desperation I thought I could escape the clutches of such as I’d seen on the stairs, heading up to the girls’ rooms. They wouldn’t want a skinny thing like me. I persuaded myself I’d be just fine. I heard myself say. “ Mr Salee, sir. I’ll do anything for board and lodging. Please take me on.”

I could hear the other girl he called Tamara rustling her skirts impatiently and there was a long moment before Mr Salee spoke.