Mission Statement:
To endeavor to bring to all residents of the Five States the most current and important news from across the entire Five States region. Never yellow, the Five States Herald vows to serve only the people of the Five States, from New Austin to Lemoyne, free of charge now and forever.
Woman walks with seven blades and lives to tell it
By Lucien Privitt
In an occurrence so ghastly that even hardened trail hands blanched at the sight, a young woman was seen this week wandering upright and breathing despite having been stabbed with more than half a dozen knives. Witnesses swear she moved along the roadside as though returning from market rather than from the grave. “I counted seven blades in her,” one man testified, hat trembling in his grip, “four of which were piercing her face!” The steel protruded at cruel angles from cheek and brow, and yet the woman neither screamed nor staggered, but walked with a fixed and terrible composure that left onlookers uncertain whether to flee or render aid.
A physician summoned to examine the spectacle later confirmed that, astonishingly, no major artery had been struck. The wounds, though numerous and fearsome to behold, had missed the vital channels by the narrowest mercy. He declared her survival a matter of improbable fortune rather than sorcery, though several townsfolk muttered otherwise under their breath. The assailant remains unidentified, and the motive for such excessive violence is yet unknown. That she endures at all is a testament either to providence or to a constitution of iron rarely witnessed in this turbulent year of 1898.
Strange rescue on the San Luis River
By Alois Burditt
A most perplexing rescue occurred along the banks of the San Luis River this week, where a local angler, intending nothing more than a quiet morning’s catch, instead found himself dragging a grown man from what appeared certain drowning. “I saw him drowning before I got to the shore,” the rescuer told this paper, boots still damp from the effort, “so I jumped right in.” The man in question was said to be swimming in a most unnatural fashion, arms flailing without rhythm, head dipping below the surface more often than rising above it. Fearing the river would claim him, the fisherman acted without hesitation.
Yet the gratitude one might expect from such salvation was wholly absent. “He kept saying I was killing him and that he needed to stay in the water,” the rescuer reported. Once hauled ashore, the man thrashed and flopped upon the sand “like a dying fish,” protesting his removal from the current. After some minutes of struggle, he ceased resisting and lay flat upon the riverbank, breathing slow and steady, eyes fixed blankly upon the wide desert sky. Though shaken, he did not expire, and by last account remained alive, if not entirely himself.
Speculation as to the cause of his condition abounds. Not far from the scene grows a curious plant known among certain naturalists as Harrietum Officinalis, reputed for its hallucinogenic properties when mishandled or ingested improperly. Whether the man partook of this flora and mistook the river for some imagined sanctuary cannot yet be confirmed. What is certain is that the San Luis gave him back, and that the frontier remains a land where peril and bewilderment walk side by side.
Colossal bones unearthed in the Grizzlies
By Delphia Atwood
High among the wind-scoured ridges of Ambarino, where only the hardiest trappers and hunters make their camp, one cowpoke discovered a marvel that has stirred scientific men into a frenzy. Jutting from a frozen slope lie the bones of what can only be described as a behemoth from some forgotten age. The ribs alone arch higher than the back of the largest plains bison, and two tremendous tusks, each as long as a grown man, curve outward from a skull half-buried in snow. The snow gathered in the hollows of its bones, and the wind sang through them like a mournful hymn.
Experts consulted by telegraph insist the creature must have been greater still than the remains suggest, arguing that much of its frame likely lies deeper beneath the mountain’s crust. Whether it was some primeval dinosaur or a monstrous cousin to known beasts, no one can yet say with certainty. Learned men are said to be preparing an expedition to the site, bringing tools, measuring rods, and the grave seriousness such a discovery commands. Until they arrive, the colossal skeleton keeps its silent vigil in the Grizzlies.
Unsanctioned execution in Strawberry
By Daisy Fairman
Strawberry awoke this week to a spectacle more befitting a lawless camp than our tidy mountain town: a man left swaying from the public gallows, though no writ had been signed and no court convened. Townsfolk gathered beneath the pine-shadowed eaves, whispering of a one-eyed stranger who had seized the unfortunate fellow in the early hours of the day. “He threatened him and dragged him to the gallows!” declared one witness. Few dared draw near enough to catch the words exchanged, but one onlooker swears the interrogation turned upon matters in New Austin.
Descriptions of the avenger point toward a familiar silhouette: broad of shoulder, long of brown hair and beard, clad in plain brown garments and a leather trench coat weathered by many trails. Several claimed the man answered to no name, though one trembling stableboy muttered “Lockman,” likely meaning Tom Lockburn, the bounty hunter whose reputation has ridden ahead of him across the Five States. If indeed it was Lockburn, witnesses insist he pressed his captive for information with ruthless vigor, wringing from him what he sought. Yet even after the supposed confession was given, the lever was pulled and the trap fell, sending the condemned into eternity without benefit of judge or jury.
Of equal concern is the absence of lawful oversight. Sheriff Hanley was said to be away upon a fishing excursion. Deputies, according to more than one whisper, were abed and in their cups, an embarrassment in a town that prides itself on sobriety. Whether this grim business was a grim necessity or a grievous overreach remains to be seen.
Fists fly at Keane’s Saloon in Valentine
By Emery Cosberry
Valentine is no stranger to splintered chairs and flying knuckles, yet this week’s disturbance did not rattle the boards of Smithfield’s as so often happens, but instead erupted within the quieter walls of Keane’s Saloon. According to a lone patron, who, by Providence or prudence, managed to avoid entanglement, two men strode in with storm already brewing in their eyes and promptly set upon a small group at the far tables. “They were arguing about stealing customers,” the witness stated, recalling sharp words over trade and territory before fists replaced speech. The observer, being the only soul present besides the bartender not drawn into the fray, made swift departure through the barroom doors.
By the time the alarm reached Sheriff Curtis Malloy’s office, the melee had already spent its fury. The witness ran straight for the law, but before deputies could marshal themselves, the assailants had scattered. The bartender reported seeing the pair bolt eastward, spurring hard in the direction of Cumberland Forest. Those left behind bore the marks of the encounter: split lips, darkening eyes, and ribs tender to the touch. They are, however, expected to recover. What industry the involved men seemed to be fighting over is unknown.
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Rise of Salons in Saint-Denis!
By Sofia Kathleen Fairfax – Lead Correspondent
Men get the barber, someone to trim their hair and beard. It’s so ubiquitous that such individuals frequently work in saloons. That’s well and good for the boys, but what about the ladies? Our hair is more intricate, and just chopping and parting isn’t enough. I have braved the saloon barber, and I care not for the experience. Thankfully, the answer lies in Lemoyne’s culture itself.
In France, the salon is popular across all its major cities. Buildings meant for the care of women’s hair, for the upper and lower classes. Most who work them are themselves women, and who knows our hair situation better than ourselves? Salons were also the center of discussion, playing a key role in the French Revolution, and while overthrowing monarchy is rather unlikely here, discussion still continues.
The number of salons in Saint-Denis has been rapidly increasing; what was originally only 3 is now a dozen across the city, and as the population increases, so too will the salons. The more women move here and work here, the more business they shall receive, and they shall rise to meet the demand. It is America at its finest.
Outlaw vows suit against maker of reinforced rope
By Frederick Vannesse
In a development that has stirred both mirth and consternation across the territories, an accused outlaw by the name of Silas P. Crowder has announced his intention to bring suit against the manufacturer of a so-called “reinforced rope,” alleging that the device denies him what he terms his “God given right to resist one’s capture with quick wit and a quicker hand.” The rope in question is said to be strengthened with a cut-resistant material, impervious to the swift slash of a concealed knife, long a favored instrument of escape among outlaws and the wrongly lasso’d alike. Crowder, presently awaiting transport under guard, claims the innovation amounts to an unfair contrivance, tipping the scales of justice too heavily in favor of bounty hunters and deputies.
The outlaw seeks unspecified damages and, in a bold flourish, demands that the product be declared unlawful throughout the Five States. Legal experts consulted by this paper suggest the suit is unlikely to gain traction, noting that the courts have seldom shown sympathy for tools designed to prevent escape from lawful custody. Some speculate the complaint is less a serious legal maneuver and more an attempt to court notoriety before trial. Whether Crowder’s argument finds any purchase remains doubtful, the lawsuit underscores a curious truth: even those most accustomed to living outside the law are not above invoking it when the noose feels a touch too tight.
The Five States Herald 