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.
Private bounty arrests falter as charges quietly disappear
By Adam Parvey
The sweeping investigation into private bounties has taken an unexpected turn, with several of those arrested in the recent Five States operation quietly released and the charges against them dropped, including some of the bounty hunters and others whose alleged connections to the affair had previously been presented as grounds for detention. James Langton, the former bounty hunter described by some authorities as having crossed into criminal enterprise, was never apprehended despite a warrant being issued for his arrest; that warrant has now been withdrawn without public explanation. Investigators have refused to say whether these developments reflect insufficient evidence, mistaken arrests, or some change in the direction of the inquiry, responding to questions only that “we do not discuss active investigations.” The fate of the three train station clerks alleged to belong to the clandestine “Discouraged Men” remains particularly sensitive, as does the larger question of who authored and distributed the unauthorized contracts now under scrutiny. Tom Lockburn, previously linked by some accounts to private bounty work but conspicuously absent from the original warrants, likewise remains untouched by the present proceedings.
Whatever investigators may ultimately discover, the affair is already changing the bounty trade. Reports reaching the Herald from across the Five States indicate that bounty posters are being taken less frequently than before the arrests, suggesting that some hunters have decided no reward is worth discovering afterward that the law considers their capture unlawful. Those continuing in the profession say they have begun keeping legitimate writs readily accessible so that their authority can be demonstrated immediately when challenged by sheriffs or police. The uncertainty has also raised a more serious possibility in legal and political circles: should private contracts remain difficult to distinguish from lawful warrants, Congress may eventually intervene and impose severe restrictions upon bounty hunting, perhaps even abolishing the practice entirely. Such an outcome remains speculation, but with prisoners being released, warrants disappearing, investigators refusing questions, and fewer hunters willing to take work, the private bounty controversy has entered a peculiar stage in which the authorities appear increasingly cautious while the profession they sought to police has already begun policing itself.
Eccentric gunman claims another duelist in Armadillo
By Wylie Frey
The strange gunman believed responsible for killing the celebrated Blackwater Trick Shooter has apparently surfaced again, this time in Armadillo. Witnesses say a retired duelist was called into the street by a flamboyantly dressed stranger whose clothes were loud enough for a circus but whose voice remained calm and even throughout the challenge. Those present described the challenger as wearing a peculiar curled mustache upon only one side of his face, the other half appearing to have been deliberately cut away, and carrying the same remarkable revolver spoken of in earlier reports surrounding the Blackwater killing. The retired gunman, past his prime but by no account an old man, accepted what witnesses called a boastful challenge, and the two faced one another before drawing with such speed that several spectators disagreed afterward on whether they had even seen the pistols clear leather. They agreed upon the result: the eccentric stranger fired first, putting a single shot squarely between his opponent’s eyes and dropping him dead where he stood. The victor offered neither celebration nor explanation, merely tilted his hat toward the fallen man and walked away, leaving Armadillo with another corpse. The shooter remains unidentified.
Hot-tempered cowpoke finds peace in the cold
By Delpia Atwood
A cowpoke notorious for possessing a fuse shorter than a spent match has accomplished what acquaintances considered nearly impossible: passing an entire day without showing hostility toward another soul, though the method employed was simply to avoid other other folks altogether. Accepting a challenge promising gold nuggets for keeping their temper, the cowpoke packed several days’ provisions and disappeared into the remote reaches of Ambarino, where mountains, pine, snow, and whatever beasts happened by served as their only company. With nobody around to insult, threaten, shove, or otherwise provoke them, the traveler completed the required day peacefully and, by their own account, enjoyed the solitude so greatly that they remained in the wilderness for another. Civilization eventually became necessary, however, as collecting the promised reward required returning to it. Witnesses say the cowpoke accepted the gold nuggets without incident, thereby officially completing the challenge, but the miraculous improvement proved brief: mere moments later they cursed at one passerby and offered another an especially rude gesture of the hand. It appears Ambarino can tame even the hottest temper, provided mankind stays safely on the other side of the mountain.
Wanted burglar left bound for hours in Blackwater cell
By Odell Clifton
A wanted burglar received an unusually uncomfortable welcome to Blackwater after a bounty hunter delivered the fellow to local police with his hands bound so fiercely behind his back that officers found themselves quite unable to free him. The prisoner, accused of a string of burglaries throughout West Elizabeth, including several committed within Blackwater itself, had apparently been secured with reinforced rope that resisted the knives ordinarily kept at the station. The bounty hunter responsible collected the offered reward and departed before anybody discovered the difficulty. With no ready means of cutting the bindings, officers left the outlaw lying inside his cell with his arms pinned behind him for several hours until special cutters could be obtained and the stubborn rope finally removed. Word of the episode has since prompted accusations that the prisoner was subjected to needless suffering while in police custody, though Chief Oswald Dunbar’s department firmly denies that any rights were violated, maintaining that officers made reasonable efforts to release the man from his restraints. The burglar, for his part, may presently consider the Blackwater jail considerably harder to escape than any house he is alleged to have entered.
Troublemaker meets bloody end in Valentine
By Donna Deshner
A rough looking stranger whom several witnesses described, with little charity, as appearing “straight outta Butcher Creek” brought an afternoon of needless aggravation to Valentine when he took to jeering at townsfolk, shoving passersby, and otherwise making himself an unwelcome fixture along the muddy main road. His foolishness turned uglier when he seized a woman passing through on horseback, dragged her from the saddle, and attempted to bind her with his rope. The woman fought free, and the fellow, apparently discovering his courage had limits, turned and ran. He did not run far. Witnesses told the Herald she reached to her saddle, took up a shotgun, and fired after him, striking the man in the back of the head and killing him where he fell. Sheriff Curtis Malloy’s office made no arrest in connection with the shooting, and few around Valentine appeared eager to demand one; as one witness put it, the dead man had spent the better part of the day looking for trouble and, before sundown, finally found somebody willing to give it to him.
Strange turtle guardian reported in the Lemoyne bayou
By Mathilde Orry
A bounty offered for turtle shells in the Lemoyne bayou has produced a consequence stranger than any official responsible for it is likely to admit: hunters working the black waters report being driven off by a mysterious protector of the reptiles, a hunched fellow dressed in a hooded coat seemingly fashioned from long, stringy hair. Accounts differ considerably as to what, precisely, these men encountered; some insist their assailant was human, while others swear upon their mothers that the thing bore the long tail and movements of an enormous rat. Whatever he may be, the so-called “turtle savior” reportedly demanded to know the whereabouts of his “children” before setting upon armed hunters with astonishing speed and agility, employing unfamiliar kicks, throws, and blows which one bruised trapper described as “fighting in a strange way.” Thus far, bullets and numbers have apparently done little to discourage the creature, and one unusually learned witness added an even more peculiar detail, claiming he overheard the hooded stranger muttering the names of several Renaissance painters while disappearing into the reeds. Whether Lemoyne has acquired a mad hermit, an educated swamp beast, or something stranger still, hunters seeking easy coin from turtle shells may presently find the bayou’s slowest inhabitants guarded by one of its quickest.
A Midsummer Storm: A Poem of Sorts
By Sofia Kathleen Fairfax – Lead Correspondent
As I sit in a decently comfortable bed, I gaze out my window as a storm blows in, likely from the ocean that the Lannahechee empties out into. The sky lights up, and the room shakes as if possessed by a particularly angry poltergeist. Try as I may, rest does not come. I ponder in these moments of silence before each crack, at the small burning candle that gave off light.
It has but one purpose: to burn brightly before meeting an untimely demise. It is a short but merry life, thankless and short, yet important all the same. How many candles I have burned in my life, thousands perhaps. They do not live, yet without them, my life would be lesser. Such silly yet ponderous thoughts, at this late an hour.
The Witching Hour, so called because the barrier between our world and the otherworld is so thin that the ghosts and demons arise from their crypts. I have been here in these Five States for many years; I have reported on supposed creations from the otherworld, but I of course have never seen it. I look off into a mirror in the corner. As a little girl, I was told I would either see my future love or an angry spirit if I watched it with a candle burning. I never saw either.
Perhaps the scariest thing in this room, as that candle melts and the sky lights up, is knowing that the passage of time is the cruelest monster of all. How little we have here, and how little it often matters. I pity myself before eventually blowing the candle out, perhaps giving it another day or two of life. Eventually, even the shaking of the room and the flashes of electrical might fade away as the mind winds down.
