Aurora Borealis

Lily 'Golden Lil ' Carmichael

A rag tag prospector comes hopping into the Aurora,”Ya’ll will never guess who I just saw walking off the boat?” His voice was excited as he went up to a knot of men still gambling from the night before. “Guess guess.”

“Go on ya old coot, git we got to finish this game.” One of the gambling men growled at the man.

“The old man was beaming, “I saw her standing on the stage down in San Ffran a few months ago. Voice like an angel and those costumes. WOO doggie make a man stand up and take notice lemme tell ya….”

The men began to laugh and shake their heads, ”Ain’t no woman no angel around here…what are you going on about?”

The old man smirked, “Now I got your attention, Its Golden Lil. She just got off the boat and is headed up to the Aurora to check in and talk to the owner I heared her say it myself.” The men all looked up and shook their heads, “Quit your lying Lil wouldn’t be coming up to the North West to be singing and a dancing. I saw her myself and she don’t look the type that would come up to do no singing and dancing for the likes of us.”

The old man shook his head and went on insisting….


Meanwhile….

Lily ‘Golden Lil ‘ Carmichael began to step off the boat and head down the gangplank. Wearing a blood red silk gown it was the fashion of the day in Paris and suited Lil’s Rubenesque figure beautifully. Her amble chest was pushed up by the corset under the dress and accentuated by the black lace trimming the bodice of the gown. The corset further highlighted her curvaceous waist and her hips. The dress was pulled tautly across the front and draped over a bustle in the back. Her hair was caught up in a chignon with a riotous amount of curls falling all along her shoulders and back. Perched jauntily on her head was a cap of black and red feathers the melded into her hair. Grey blue eyes were expertly outlined and bright red lips were curved into a smile. Black gloves held aloft the front of her dress exposing her black kid leather boots and ankles as she began to make her way across the streets heading to the Aurora Borealis.

Lil had decided to make a change in her life and much to the dismay of her manager it wasn’t for his benefit but for hers. She had been hearing about Carmack for a while now and had decided to up and change her address one night without much more then a note to most of her devoted fans. Mostly the men hanging around waiting for a tidbit or two. Reaching the Aurora her new home for a few months it would seem she paused and looked around inhaling the fresh clean air and sighed, she felt like she was home
 
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James Masterton

In his room, he lays on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He has not had a wink of sleep all night.

Last night, after he had left Frenchie, he had gone up to Louise's quarters to see how she was faring before turning in for the night. At the door was Hank.

"Lou has all the company she needs tonight." The burly barman had told him just before entering. Nor did he come out the entire time he stood there.

It has shook him more than he had realised. He had known that Louise still had feelings for Hank. But to go behind his back? Did she have so little regard for him? Especially after he had poured out his heart to her?

Obviously the answer is 'yes'.

He then left and returned to his room.


"So she has made her choice." He says out aloud, his voice not without a hint of bitterness. He has never felt so betrayed. Now when he needed her the most, she is gone.

Getting up from the bed, he goes over to the dresser and looks at his dishevelled reflection in the mirror, the sleepless night clearly evident.

For long moments, he just stands there, not thinking anything. Then, almost automated, he starts to wash himself, followed by a shave. Changing his shirt, he goes downstairs for breakfast.

Finding a breakfast table, he waits for service only to see Hank walk into the room. He had hoped that what he had saw last night had an innocent explanation. But one look at the satisfied grin on Hank's face tells him all he needs to know.

With what little appetite now gone, he abruptly gets up and leaves the table...
 
The story to date:

The Aurora Borealis, owned by Lou Service, is the central attraction on the better side of Carmack, NW Territory. A saloon, dancehall, hotel and restaurant, it dishes up some fine lodgings, good whiskey, fancy food and even fancier women.

One of the doughboys, Tonsillitis Jones, had come in to town with news that Lars Lindquist was found dead by Patterson's Creek and all the evidence points at James Masterton, an English gent who is one of Lou's suitors.

His rival is Lou's long-time lover, Hank Garvin -- a hard livin', hard lovin', no nonsense kind of guy. She has some big choices to make.

In the meantime, one of the girls has been found dead. Rafe and one of the mounties have gone to see what they can find out about the man who was last seen with her. Is he the one who killed Lars as well?

Oblivious to the goings-on is a gentle farm boy named Tad Meriwether who has come to make his fortune like so many others. Taken in by Lou (via the auspices of Anna DeSylva) he now has a paying job and maybe even a place to stay and a woman's soft arms to ease his sleep.

But where is Superintendent Gunderson? Is he still plodding along on his way to town? Only the shadow knows... :D
 
Anna DeSilva

Oblivious to the fact that they made a handsome couple, Annie and Tad walked slowly back to the Aurora from the Mercantile. Tad seemed to stand inches taller after every greeting and smile exchanged with other Carmack folks who were on their way to business or just tending to their daily chores. Annie was smiling, too, her grip on his arm tightening in a protective yet possessive way.

He did make a striking figure in his new clothes, she thought more than once. Clothes do make the man. Of course Tad was proud of his new shirt and trousers -- and his boots! -- but he was prouder of the fact that, at least in his mind, he was walking in public with a beautiful woman on his arm. Like a man. A real man!

Annie couldn't help wondering whether Il Toro would be so proud to walk with her if he knew how she'd gotten her start at Lou's, or what went on in the rooms upstairs. She would have to tell him, but not today. Maybe tomorrow. Annie didn't want to tug him down from the cloud he seemed to be walking on just yet.

"Come," she said to Tad with a chuckle as he held the door and she walked past into the Aurora. "You must be starving after all of that hard work shopping."

"I don't mind chopping wood, Miss... umm... Annie" he replied eagerly, misunderstanding what Annie had said because of her accent.

She knew it, of course, but didn't want to embarrass Tad by correcting him. She'd embarrassed him enough the night before. A flush rose to her cheeks at one particular memory. Annie sighed, she was going to have to explain a lot of things, she thought. He was such an innocent.

"Come," she repeated. "Miss Lou will be down soon and I want to talk to her about some ideas I have." Annie eyed him up and down as she considered how far the stock in the pantry would hold with this one around.
 
The lady that's known as... Lou

Lou woke feeling as though she'd been hit on the head with one of Millie's cast iron pots. Groaning miserably, she pulled a pillow over her head and laid there for a few minutes longer wishing everything the night before had been a dream and knowing that it wasn't.

The new Super would be here any time and she still needed to talk to Tonsillitis. Bush madness. She'd seen that fevered look in many pairs of eyes before. Lou just didn't get why anyone would want to blame James for Lars' death. James wouldn't hurt a fly.

Nevertheless, Hank had come before she'd gone to sleep with the news that it was indeed James' gun they'd found when his men went out to fetch the poor man's body. Even Hank didn't think it was James -- though that would have been an end to his question of whether or not she'd made her choice.

In fact, she thought he'd never leave. Much as she could have used the romp, Lou needed to make her decision based on something far more tangible than mating. Almost a full bottle of whiskey and more than a few heated words is what it took to send him on his way. Much as she hated to say it, Lou wasn't looking forward to seeing him again today at all.

Right now what she needed was a cup of hot coffee and she knew there'd be a pot brewing on the stove in the kitchen. She'd go down the back way and get a cup before dressing. Anna could sent another and a cup of tea up to Tonsillitis' room after, cause that would be her next stop.
 
Superintendant Thor Gundersen

......clop......clop.....clop....... After what seemed like days, a dim glow on the horizon indicated that there was a town up ahead. 'Amazing,' Thor thought, 'after 20 years in the NW Territories, I took the wrong fork and wound up in North Bumfuck, NWT!'

Thor nudged his horse with his knee.....hoping that he was FINALLY going to arrive in Carmack.
 
"Cowboy"

The spanish girl had proved to be wonderfully entertaining, and John awoke the next morning feeling the delicious warmth of sexual gratification. She, of course, had scurried off...and he was inconcerned with the few dollars she had stolen. If anything, he was glad that his wallet would weight that much less in his jacket pocket.

He dressed slowly, caught up in the morning, bathing in the sunlight as it reached him, fractured into golden ribbons by the horizontal blinds on his room's single, quaint window. She had folded each shirt neatly and hung up his pants, perhaps an unneccessary attempt at redemption. He merely smiled.

The battered cotton of his undershirt barely fit around his strong chest, thinned out to the point of transparency in some places...stained with the dark matted dirt of his digging in others. Regardless, it was unfit to be seen in, and he made himself decent and respectable with an off-white overshirt. It was fastened with a row of stout, brass buttons...the canvas-like material of the shirt itself nearly as turgid.

News of murder had spread throughout the Aurora, and rumor had it that Lou's little man had the itchy trigger finger. It was this that had prompted John to keep his guns close, and he went through the well practiced routine of oiling the worn, brown leather belt and holsters. His thumbs pushed the heavily scented oils into the leather's joints, where cracks would form, the musky scent filling the air. The belt still creaked a bit as he fastened it, brass buckle lightly shined with the rag he wiped his fingers with.

The weapons themselves were treated with the same meticulous care, for they had been his companions for a great while now. They had once been the staple Colt Peacemakers, and yet they hadn't escaped his habit of tinkering...and now were clearly a hybrid. The barrels were extended, 10 inches, ebon and ominous, weighted front sights rising at the tips like shark fins. The cylinders themselves were longer, nearly the length of his pinky finger. These two changes served two purposes: the weapons were changed from the .45 Colt caliber to the much more powerful .45 Winchester, and they looked like hellish monstrosities compared to their more recognizable cousins.

After thumbing the cylinders full of brass cartridges, he eased the weapons down into their battered sheaths, instantly assured by the familiar weight on his hips. For a moment, he drifted off, studying the displaced linens of his simple bed as memories of his days as a law enforcer drifted by. In Kansas and Nebraska he had been a pillar in the communities he visited.

Here he was "Cowboy", a recluse and a gunfighter.

He had only fired his weapons twice in Carmack. The first had been nearly three years before, the last only a few days ago in this very establishment. Both had ended very much the same, and neither he was proud of. Alas, violence was a very clear danger in this world. The mining town was booming, and even his altercation in the Aurora's bar hadn't stopped the inflow of customers.

The thought was a relief, and a worry all at once. He found himself slipping the shoulder holsters of his secondary sidearms on his broad chest, abruptly, but didn't hesitate. The smaller .38 Caliber pistols were tucked inside, and he drew his duster up from the rack and slipped his arms through.

The dark material was worn, battered, and matched the dark brown of his wide brimmed hat. It swung back and forth with each of his strides, heavy boots adorned with the small brass studs which formerly held spurs. The little blades were useless in this realm, as he had learned many years ago, and had since been discarded.

This left John's steps to register with lonely, trembling thuds as he descended the stairs...hoping to gather up some breakfast. He wore a dark smile on his face, looking quite pleased with himself and all things.
 
Rafe Salee


Rafe saw the smoke from Carmac's distant chimneys twisting slowly into the cold blue sky and shivered. A vicious west wind was blowing across the flats and only the urgency of his news and the need for a doctor kept him going instead of sheltering down in the relative shelter of the river bed.
Nate too was on his last legs, the big horse had covered fifty miles since dawn, with both Salee and the deputy's dead body on his back.

The shootout had been short and brutal. He knew good and well he'd put a bullet in Crabbe but it hardly made up for the two Rafe was carrying in his leg or the one that had shattered the deputy's skull.
The outlaw was laughing at him as he and the captive girl mounted up and rode away to the south.
The distance wasn't so great that he couldn't see the look of terror on the poor woman's face or the bruises on her skin.
He'd wanted to kill him. Kill him for Texas Rose but he could barely move, leg shot out from under him and his ammunition gone.
He was damned lucky to be alive.

"Come on old fella." He said leaning over his horses neck, the pain now a dull throbbing ache.
"Come on old fella, take me home. There's news to tell..."

The keening wind was a coyote howl to the vast empty dome of the sky.

 
Tonsillitis Jones

The bath water was steaming hot, the kind of hot that scalded the skin and turned it a bright shade of red. As far as Tonsillitis was concerned it could never be hot enough or the soap strong enough to scrub off the layers of dirt that accumulated while working the claim out at Patterson's Creek.

But that was all over now. Unlike many others, Tonsillitis had made a small fortune. Enough to keep Lou Service in finery for the rest of their lives.

Hair squeaky clean, and skin ruddy from the scrubbing, Tonsillitis stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel round only to hear a knock and a familiar voice at the door.

"Come," Tonsillitis rasped -- the quiet, hoarse voice being the reason for that particular nickname in the first place.

"We have to talk, Ton. About what you said last night. Before the Superintendent gets here."

Lou was talking as she walked into the room, not really taking notice of Tonsillitis who was standing in the doorway to the bath wearing nothing but a towel. Until it dropped to the floor, that is, and revealed Tonsillitis Jones in a light Lou Service had never expected.

"What in the... Where's... Are you... " Lou grinned broadly. "Why you... "

"Hello, Lou" Tonsillitis grinned, the voice cracking as it strained to regain its original timbre. Emboldened by the certainty that Lou was pleased by the transformed person before her, Ton strode across the room and grabbed her close, tears of joy and relief running freely from eyes that were filled with love and desire.

At last Ton could show her what real loving was. Not the ugly, frantic gropings and probings of the men who had taken advantage of her. But the gentle caresses and kisses that a beauty such as herself deserved and had never known existed.
 
"Cowboy"

If there was anything on his mind this morning, it was guilt, really. For John deeply regretted the way he had treated Lou, his disconcern for her thoughts or feelings had been uncalled for. The woman known as Lou had treated him fairly, and referred to him as John, while all others in Carmack had not. Though, he had the dwelling suspicion she did so only in the good nature of business, she had been the only one.

Her girls were kind to him on the rare occassions he had one, her whiskey never watered down, and her card games fair and profitable. Thus, the first thing he sought to do this morning...was set things right, in the old, Kansas City way he knew how to.

But her office was empty, and that forced him upstairs again. His fist coming heavily on the finished wood door.

The words in his head poured out, nearly all the way through, before his face twisted up in a comical grimace. Shock, of course, had taken him from head to toe...and his back stiffened.

"Miss Lou, just wanted to 'pologize for the other day...

Masterson...?" he managed, suddenly aware that he had knocked on the wrong door...

"My apologies, friend, just lookin' to set things right by your lady. Is she here?"

He hadn't spoke in such length since he had arrived in Carmack, but in his hurry he had rambled. His dialect interfered with his grammar, but he spoke as an educated man. It was then that James Masterson's coutenance changed, a bitter kind of pain and rage blazing to life in his eyes.

A strength there that John had assumed the man did not possess...and he was clearly suprised to see it.
 
Frenchie Silverheels

Frenchie looked up as the door to the Aurora opened bringing in a gust of frigid wind followed by an unfamiliar face. "Délicieux," she murmured to herself as she eyed the man who was quite obviously a Mountie up and down and partway up again.

Hank, following the flashy redhead's gaze, shook his head and grinned. "That's the new Super, Frenchie. He's here to... " His words fell on deaf ears as the sultry seductress swished over to greet the early arrival.

"Bonjour, Monsier. Je suis Frenchie," she breathed huskily. "What is your pleasure this morning? Perhaps I might be of... assistance?"

"Good morning, Frenchie. I'm Superintendent Gunderson and I'm afraid I'm here on business rather than for pleasure."

"Oui. Oui. That is what everyone says," she replied with a wink and a toss of her carefully coiffed head as she linked her arm through his and led him toward a table. "But even a Superintendent must take his ease. The air is chill outside, chere. You will need some warming up first, I think? And perhaps a different kind of warming up after."

The saying about a Mountie always getting their man came to mind as Frenchie nodded toward the empty chair. She wasn't much different. Frenchie Silverheels always got her man -- and this one certainly looked worth the getting. "Let me help you with your coat, chere."
 
Calley Fitzgerald

Calley’s first night of work at the Aurora had been mercifully light. After Rose’s grisly death not many men had the taste for slap ‘n tickle so the place was like a morgue all night.

Calley and a couple of the girls played a few hands of dispirited poker while the piano player tried to sound up beat. Around three in the morning the girls all agreed Lou wouldn’t begrudge them an early night and straggled off to bed.

The next morning Calley woke and looked around her. So this was home now. Sitting up she realised how chill the air was becoming and hurriedly dressed, winter was here. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she needed some food in her.

Downstairs she joined a few of the others at the long table. A bowl of steaming groats with a drizzle of maple syrup soon made her feel full and happy. She grabbed her mug of coffee and carried it into the salon bar.

Frenchie was seated at one of the tables. I don’t think she ever sleeps. Thought Calley with a grin. She took a seat in the corner and watched Frenchie. Calley was in awe of the exotic French beauty. She was so comfortable in her skin, confident and charming.

As she sipped her steaming coffee and looked on, the door swung open and a man wearing the familiar uniform of the Canadian Mounted Police entered. He stood huffing on his reddened hands as he looked around, taking the room in.

Sure ‘nuff, Frenchie didn’t miss a beat; she tossed her flaming head and was by the mountie’s side in a flash. Calley watched as the red haired beauty drew the reluctant mountie towards the table protesting that he was there “on official business.”.

Rose! Thought Calley, and, in spite of the warm coffee mug in her hands, she shivered.
 
Superintendent Thor Gunderson

"But even a Superintendent must take his ease. The air is chill outside, chere. You will need some warming up first, I think? And perhaps a different kind of warming up after."

Tired as he was, Thor felt a bit of a stir. The word 'vixen' popped into his mind. Red hair, sparkling eyes, and the pseudo-French accent conjured up images of long ago. However, duty called and Thor ALWAYS put duty first.

"Let me help you with your coat, chere." Thor allowed her to pull the coat from his body and he slumped into the proffered chair, adjusting his holster as he sat. 'Damn, I'm tired,' he thought. The ride had been neverending........especially after the wrong turn to North Bumfuck.

"Frenchie," I have a constable assigned here. "Perhaps you could tell me where to find him?"

As Thor waited for her reply, he allowed his eyes to slide up and down and part way up her body.....unconciously mimicing the scan she had just completed.
 
The lady that's known as... Lou

Lou was more than a bit shaken by Tonsillitis' revelation -- in every sense of the word. She'd seen some strange things since coming to the Northwest Territory, but this one... Well...

Unsure what else to do, Lou gently placed her arms around Ton as he... no, SHE... clutched at her, sobbing. A woman! Lou was amazed that she hadn't seen the signs before now, very little got past her. Perhaps she'd just been so wound up in her own problems that she hadn't stopped to think. The implications of what she now knew were staggering.

"Ton... " Lou spoke softly, trying to peel the diminutive miner's hands from her body. "Let's get you dried and dressed. Then we can talk."

Ton only clutched her tighter. Her face, that had been buried against Lou's neck as she cried, now moved upward. Her lips grazing along Lou's skin, tasting. Searching. Until Ton finally found what she was looking for -- Lou's mouth.

To Lou, it seemed as though time had frozen, everything happening in an instant that took hours. She was paralyzed with shock as Ton's hungry mouth closed over hers, unable to break away. Unable to move. Unable to think. This was wrong! So very, very wrong! And yet now, suddenly, everything began to make sense.
 

"He's outside Superintendant but I wouldn't be expectin' no report."
Rafe stood in the door listing badly, the wind whipped around him like a fury.

"Frenchie, gimme a chair girl or I'll go down right here."
But he couldn't wait, his knee buckled and gave way. Salee hit the floor hard.

"What's the matter Rafe?" The girl hurried over in a bustle of crinolines, thinking wisely to grab a bottle of brandy off the table.

"Good girl." He gasped and then drank deep.
"Shoot out at the old Copper Creek line cabin. We cornered Buck Crabbe there with some gal...I caught this..."
He pointed down at his blood soaked leg.

"Your Constable wasn't so lucky Super. He took one between the eyes....
LORD GOD GIRL!", Rafe bellowed as Frenchie laid a sympathetic hand over the bullet hole in his thigh.

"That don't help noneatall!...fetch me the Doc, or better yet call Lou in here, she'll know what to do."

And with that Salee feinted dead away.
 
Superintendent Thor Gunderson

"Your Constable wasn't so lucky Super. He took one between the eyes...."

The words penetrated the fog of fatigue. As the man collapsed on the floor - blood soaking through his pants - Thor levered himself out of the chair and walked to the door. 'No sense in hurrying, the dead need nothing more,' Thor thought, as he pushed open the door that led to the street outside the Aurora Borealis.

A tired grey horse stood blowing from exhaustion. Strapped behind the saddle, hanging head down, was a still body in the scarlet uniform of the NWMP. Thor squatted down and looked at what had been Sergeant Provon. The hole in the forehead was a neat round circle, encrusted with dark dried blood. The back of Provon's head was mostly missing - the result of a large calibre bullet exiting from his head.

Standing quickly, Thor motioned to the body and said to a small knot of onlookers, "Someone take him to whatever passes for a funeral parlor in this town. Then pass the word that I would like to have able-bodied men meet here in an hour. No one kills a Mountie and lives very long to tell about it."

With that, Thor spun on his heel and marched back into the Aurora. A small group of men and women were around the leg-shot man who brought Provon back. 'When he wakes up, I must thank him for at least giving him the opportunity for a decent burial'.

"Has someone called the doc?" Thor asked, feeling all eyes turn to him.
 
Tad Meriwether

“Morning Ma’am,” Tad said, tipping his hat. “Sir,” he politely acknowledged the man in a wool vested suit.

He grinned at and greeted everyone he and Annie met on the street. He wanted to stand on the street corner and yell; “Look, I have new clothes, new shirts, new pants, and new boots. I have a job too……And I have a girl.”

He flushed at the thought. Annie wasn’t his girl. He was sure she liked him, maybe a lot, but she wasn’t his girl. She was just helping him with the job and a place to sleep. You’re as big as an ox and twice as dumb. “No sir, I’m just big, he told himself.

Finally they arrived back at the Aurora. There was a small group of people in front, a man strapped over the saddle, and a NWMP Mountie, he eyed them curiously, but figured it was know of his business. He held the door for Annie as they walked in.

“Come,” Annie said, “You must be starving after all of that hard work shopping.”

“I don’t mind chopping wood, Miss…Annie,” she reassured her.

“Come,” she repeated. “Miss Lou will be down soon and I want to talk to her about some ideas I have.”

Annie lead Tad back to the kitchen, knowing it was his favorite place to be. He sat at the table expectantly, looking at the other girls in the kitchen, wondering what they would bring him.

“Ya think she might have a place for me to sleep Annie,” he said looking up at her. “I can’t take yer room, ya know. I could sleep out in the shed…there’s plenty room out there. I don’t mind.”

His questions were quelled as a plate of biscuits and sopping gravy was placed in front of him, along with a steaming mug of hot coffee. He stuck a small towel down the neck of his new red shirt, to catch anything his mouth might miss. He immediately dug into the plate.
 
Frenchie

Frenchie was stunned by the latest turn of events at the Aurora. First the news of Lars being shot and James being accused, then Rose's death. Now one dead Mountie and Rafe shot to boot. Seeing that Rafe had finally fainted dead away, she rose and headed upstairs in search of Lou. He was right. Lou would know what to do -- she always did.

Lou was not in her rooms and Frenchie somehow doubted that she was with James either, judging by the look on his face when he'd been down earlier. Hank was down at the bar, too, so that only left Tonsillitis. Frenchie shivered. Now that was one strange little man.

Knocking on Ton's door, she called out. "Lou! Are you there? There's been more shooting. Rafe's hurt. Bad. And the new Super is here, too. Lou! Open up!"

Impatient and perhaps a little scared, Frenchie turned the doorknob to test it. Finding it unlocked, she pushed on the door and barged in.

"Sacre bleu!" Frenchie's eyes travelled from Lou to -- Tonsillitis?? -- and back to Lou again. "Chere. I know it is none of my business, but this is tres... how do you say... Oh fuck it. I need a damned drink. I don't even want to know. Just get your pretty little derriere moving."

Turning on her heels, Frenchie sashayed back downstairs. She didn't know what was going on around here. Maybe it was something in the water. Swearing never to touch another drop, she patted her hair and smoothed her hands over her dress before rejoining the crowd of people around Rafe Salee. Appearance was everything.
 
The lady that's known as... Lou

Lou was already trying to pry Ton off when she heard Frenchie at the door, her "Come in!" unheeded by the fiery redhead who had already opened the door and let herself in.

" ...I don't even want to know."

Lou had to smile at that last. Even she didn't know all the facts yet, though she had a pretty good idea. And she didn't like the way her mind was working around Tonsillitis' revelation.

"I'll be right down, Frenchie. Help yourself to a bottle -- but save some for me."

Lou turned back to the naked woman who had started to wrap her arms around her waist as Frenchie slammed the door behind her. "No. Goddammit, Ton -- Just what IS your name anyhow?"

"Marietta. Marietta Sterling. Lou, I... " She moved even closer, longing to feel the soft curves and luscious swells of Lou's body once again.

"I said NO, Marietta! And I meant it!" The tone of her voice showed Tonsillitis -- now Marietta -- that she meant business and the diminutive woman backed away, tears streaming down her face.

"I love you, Lou. I want to make you happy. I know I can. You just have to give me a chance, that's all. You don't need any of those good for nothin' men. I can make you happy. I CAN."

"Look, Ton... Marietta. This is going to have to wait. Didn't you hear what Frenchie just said? Provon is dead and Rafe's shot up. I need to take care of this first." Lou almost felt sorry for her, but knew that if she gave Marietta an inch she'd take a mile.

"You stay put, you hear? You need to get dressed, too."

Marietta's eyes wandered to the freshly laundered and folded clothes that were laying over the back of a chair.

"No. Not those. I'll send Annie up with something more suitable. Other than that? Don't you dare open this door to anyone but me and do NOT leave this room. I'll be back as soon as I'm able. Oh -- and I'll send breakfast up as well. You have lots of explaining to do, young miss. And I intend to hear every word of it."

Marietta nodded at Lou as she opened the door. "Now lock this behind me and remember. Annie or me ONLY. Understand?"

Lou hurried down the back stairs that led to the kitchen. Annie would take care of things while she was busy with Rafe and whatever else needed tending. Damn! Frenchie had said the Super was here, too. "I'm getting too old for this nonsense. Anna!" she called out as she entered the warmth of the kitchen. "We've got trouble and I need your help."
 
Anna DeSilva

"And buona mattina to you too, Lou." Anna said with a raised eyebrow. Tad had started to get up when Lou walked in, but she waved her hand at him to stay put.
"I suppose you've heard what's happened?" Lou asked, not really wanting to go through the whole rigmarole again. Why was she asking? Annie knew what was going on even before it happened most times.

"Not this time, Lou. I did see the new Superintendent, but I was busy feeding this bottomless pit here."

Lou glanced at Tad then back to Anna wishing it were a better time so that she could get the entire story. It was about time Annie had a beau -- but that, too, was for another time. "I see. Well the low down of it is that Provon is dead and Rafe's been shot. Oh, and there's a lot more but here's what I need right now."

Anna listened intently as Lou gave the short version about Tonsillitis/Marietta and told her not to worry, already thinking about who was that little doughboy's size as she started dipping hot water into a clean pitcher to send upstairs to Rafe's rooms.

"Tad, I'll need you to help carry Rafe to his rooms, then go fetch the doc -- if he's sober. In the meantime I'll need hot... " Lou noticed what Annie was doing and grinned. "I guess you know the rest. Plenty of bandages. Oh, don't forget the whiskey and a sharp knife. I'm gonna slit his throat for causing me all this worry then I'm going to take the bullet out."

Anna was already moving, a step ahead of Lou. It wasn't the first time they'd had to do some patching up on a man who'd found himself on the wrong end of a gun.

"No worries, Lou. Go with Miss Lou, Tad. And do exactly what she says." Crazy people. They were all crazy.
 
Tad Meriwether

“Yes Ma’am,” Tad said jumping to his feet to follow Anna to the saloon.

He found the man they called Rafe laying on the floor near the door, with a crowd of people about. He had never seen a man that had been shot before. He looked to Anna for quick instruction again. She nodded her head and motioned toward the stairway. Gently Tad reached down and scooped the injured man in his arms, heading toward the stairway. Even with his dead weight, Rafe was no problem for Tad to carry. Tad made his way through the crowd and being careful not to bang Rafe’s head or injured leg on the newel post or banister rail he carried him upstairs to his room. Carefully laying him on the bed.

“That ok, Miss Anna,” he asked, looking to Anna.

“Yes Tad, that’s fine….now find the doc, hurry.”

Tad disappeared through the door and back down the stairs, and out the front door of the saloon. He had no idea where the doc’s office was.

“Think Tad,” he said to himself, as he looked up and down the street.

He started down the street not knowing where he was headed. Then he stopped.

“Ma’am…’cuse me Ma’am…do you know where the doc’s office is,” he asked a passing woman.

“Why yes, young man, its right down the street, just two blocks….you can’t miss it.”

“Thank ya Ma’am,” Tad said taking off at a run.

He ran for two blocks then stopped and looked around at the signs hanging above the doors, before seeing the one he was looking for.

DOCTOR’S OFFICE, the sign read.

He jerked the door open and ran in. The doctor was sitting at his desk with a cup of coffee and bottle of whiskey.

“Doc…come quick….someone’s been shot,” Tad panted at the man.

“Always someone getting shot round here,” the doctor replied, pouring more whiskey into his coffee cup.

Tad paused, looking at the doctor, then at the whiskey bottle. He stepped up to the doctor and grabbed him by the arm, hefting him out of his chair.

“I’m sorry doc, but the whiskey can wait, a mans been shot and needs your help, now,” Tad said dragging the doctor toward the door.

“Hold on there young man, let me git my bag at least.”

Tad let the doctor grab his medical bag, but didn’t release his arm. As soon as the doc had his hat on, Tad was dragging him out the office door and up the street.

“Up here,” he said as he pulled the doctor through the saloon and up the stairs to Rafe’s room.
 
Rafe and Doc Flynn


"What the fuck happened to you?"

Rafe opened an eye and looked at the whiskered, heavy jowled visage of Doc Flynn, peering bleary eyed down at him.

"Where in the hell is Lou, damned if I'm gonna let a drunk carve on me!"
Rafe shot up in bed and winced at the bolt of pain. His whole goddam leg was on fire.

"I sir am not drunk...only a libation to toast the Season...or two, has crossed my lips tonight."
Desmond Flynn drew fimself up to his full five foot one and scowled.
"Devil take your leg sir."
He slapped the bowler hat back on his bald head and reached for his coat.

"Oh shut up Dezzy and give me a drink."
Rafe surveyed his ruined pin, while a molified Flynn uncorked the flask of whisky from his pocket.

"You gonna have to cut it off?"


"Mebbe...mebbe both of 'em and an arm or two to boot."
He offered Salee the flask while he sliced the crusted trouser leg from cuff to groin.
"But whatever, I'm gonna need some help for this. Why ain't any of your girls around when ya need em?"

 
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James Masterton

Standing on the landing, Masterton watches Tad carry Rafe up the stairs and along the hallway leading to the man's bedroom.

"Yore handiwork, Masterton?" A voice says behind him.

Turning round, he sees it is Hank. He can still see him standing at Louise's door last night, the memory adding to the anger that is still burning inside him after John Thomson's visit a few minutes before.

Immediately, he turns to walk away, only to be stopped.

"What's the matter? Don't you like the truth?" Hank taunts as he steps in front of him.

"You know I have had nothing to do with that." Masterton tells the much bigger man.

"Wal mebbe you didn't." Hank considers, pulling back his hat. "But then again, it would be mighty confeeniant if yore were the killer."

Masterton understands the threat well enough.

"From what I see, you have nothing to worry about in any case." Masterton says bitterly.

Hank breaks into a huge grin at Masterton's words which rises the Englishman's his ire even more.

"Mebbe so but I want to make shore if you get mah meaning."

"I get your meaning." Masterton says with disgust as he turns to leave only to be slammed against the wall.

"I don't think you do." Hank looks Masterton straight in the eye. "Let me make this plain: Stay away from Lou or you will regret it."...
 
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