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.
Black markets reined in by federal investigation
By Adam Parvey
Federal lawmen have been conducting a sweeping investigation across the Five States, targeting fences and the underground trade of illicitly gained goods. Reports confirm that the operation was carried out in multiple stages, with agents employing a variety of tactics to root out those buying and selling contraband. In some cases, federal authorities intentionally seeded the black markets with marked items, while in others, undercover operatives posed as thieves themselves, offering stolen goods to suspected fences. Once those items were confirmed to have changed hands, other agents would step in to make carefully timed purchases, creating a trail of evidence designed to hold up in court.
The effort has already led to several arrests, including two fences long suspected of operating out of New Austin and West Elizabeth. According to officials, both individuals were caught red-handed with goods they had no means of explaining, their ledgers seized as further evidence. The strategy has been hailed by federal spokesmen as one of the most thorough stings in recent memory, showing that even the most cautious operators could not evade detection once the system of bait and recovery was in play.
The most curious turn of the investigation came in Saint Denis, where a man who ran a general store near the docks was abruptly arrested on suspicion of fencing stolen wares. Yet just as quickly as he was brought in, the charges were dropped, and no explanation was given to the public. Whispers in the city suggest the man may have had friends in high places, while others claim a mistake in the sting compromised the case. Whatever the truth, the sudden release has stirred talk in back alleys and drawing rooms alike, casting a shadow over an otherwise triumphant federal operation.
Drunks turn Armadillo saloon into a lively place in the middle of the dead town
By Jose Chavez
In Armadillo, where the water is still whispered to carry sickness, cowpokes have long leaned on whiskey and beer as their safest refuge. One evening this week, several of them stumbled into the saloon, already half-sloshed but eager for more, and ordered rounds until the tables rattled with bottles. As the night wore on, the haze of liquor thickened, and soon their boasting turned into a show. Revolvers were drawn, not in anger, but in a kind of drunken pageantry, each cowpoke determined to outshine the other with flourishes and spins.
The few patrons present looked on with a mix of awe and unease as the cowpokes twirled gleaming steel across their fingers, some managing slick spins while others nearly dropped their irons onto the floorboards. Cheers erupted whenever a trick was pulled off clean, and groans followed every fumbled catch. By the end, the spectacle had turned the dusty saloon into something of a theater, with the audience clapping as though the cowpokes had rehearsed the routine, when in truth, it was the drink doing most of the work.
Ambarino hunter a fraud!
By Jane Duran
Ezekiel “Clawhand” Boone of Ambarino had built himself a reputation as one of the boldest hunters in the territory, claiming to have downed more grizzlies than any man alive. His proof lay in the record number of bear claws he sold to eager merchants, each one displayed with pride and whispered about as tokens of true frontier bravery. For a time, Boone was a minor celebrity, his name carried through the mountains and towns alike as a living legend of the hunt.
That legend came crashing down when one merchant, suspicious of the sheer volume of claws Boone produced, sent them off for appraisal. The claws turned out to be clever forgeries, whittled from horn and painted to mimic the real thing. News spread fast, and with it Boone’s disgrace. Once hailed as a fearless hunter, he is now barred from reputable saloons across the Five States, jeered at by those who once admired him, and left to nurse his shame in the alleys and backrooms where no honest hunter would dare set foot.
Outlaw captured, US Marshall loses life
By Odell Clifton
Nikolai “Yukon Nik” Borodin, the towering hunter turned outlaw, was finally brought down in the northern woods after years of evading justice. Known for his cruelty and for keeping wild beasts near his camp, Nik had long been a nightmare to both trappers and lawmen who dared cross his path. His reign of terror escalated when he captured a U.S. Marshal sent to arrest him, an action that shook the region and drew an even fiercer response from federal authorities. With a heavy bounty on his head, bounty hunters and deputies alike swarmed West Elizabeth searching for the outlaw. He was eventually cornered holed up in Fort Riggs, where a tense standoff ended with his capture.
Though apprehended alive, Yukon Nik killed the captured US Marshall before he was brought down. Lawmen reported that Nik resisted until the very last, cursing and thrashing as shackles were bound tight around his wrists. His crimes — ranging from kidnappings to killings, now crowned by the murder of a Marshal — will see him face trial, though few doubt the sentence awaiting him. The capture of Yukon Nik closes a bloody chapter in the Five States’ frontier law, but the memory of his brutality, and the Marshal who fell in pursuit, will not soon be forgotten.
Law breaker successfully escapes Valentine lawmen
By Donna Deshner
Valentine lawmen were riled after a known cowpoke, wanted on several charges of theft and harassment, made a daring escape from town just as the sheriff’s office closed in. A few deputies gave chase beyond the town limits, riding hard across the fields and scanning the hills, but after several miles they came up empty. Horses slowed, tempers flared, and the trail seemed to vanish into the dust and brush of the Heartlands. One deputy swore the fugitive could not have gone far, but with no sign of him, the posse reluctantly began circling back.
On their way, a deputy stopped to question a man loitering near the roadside brush, asking if he’d seen anyone flee through the area. The witness, dusty-faced and calm, claimed he had not noticed a thing, and explained he was just resting by the path and enjoying some shade. Taking him at his word, the deputy rode off to report what he learned. Based on the description of the witness several believe the lawman may have in fact spoken directly to the outlaw, not just an innocent witness. “We will have to learn from this mistake,” Sheriff Curtis Malloy said, “it is important we get accurate descriptions of wanted men as soon as possible.”
Beachfront Property in Lemoyne?
By Sofia Kathleen Fairfax
In the east, it is a common holiday to travel to a beach and enjoy a day of relaxing, dipping your toes in the water, and occasionally arguing with family. Out here in the west, such traditions are few and far enough, owing to a lack of oceanfront property. But that hasn’t stopped the occasional individual from claiming they can still make it work!
Cyrus Sims is a high-rolling gambler living in New Austin, although originally from California. He reportedly has a house in San Francisco and loves the water. Recently, he placed an ad in a local Saint-Denis paper, claiming he intends to create a warm and welcoming beach on the sandy shores of Lemoyne. Flat Iron Lake indeed features numerous beachy areas, and hypothetically could be developed into a popular destination. If you, of course, ignore all the wildlife, including alligators, cougars, boars, and snakes.
Somehow, all those creatures aren’t seen as a dealbreaker; Sims has supposedly hired out some farmers and hunters to “exterminate” the pests. The men paid for this task already admit it’s doomed to fail, but the pay is good, and it will take some time before Sims realizes his folly. Knowing failure is inevitable, but you want the money anyway, truly the Five State spirit.
Cowpoke accepts a challenge that has a dramatic ending
By Ivy Seager
A curious wager was struck in the Heartlands when a cowpoke, known for their sharp aim and quick temper with critters, was challenged to go an entire day without killing so much as a rabbit. “Reckon you can’t do it,” a friend teased, prompting the cowpoke to puff up and accept. Determined to prove everyone wrong, they declared the safest course of action was simply not to move at all. “It’s easy to trample an animal while traveling,” the cowpoke explained, “so the only way I could be sure to win the challenge was to stand in one place, all day and night.” With that, they planted their boots in the dirt like a fencepost, arms crossed, ready to out-stubborn nature itself.
At first, folks found the sight amusing. Passersby asked if the cowpoke was waiting for a stagecoach or staring down some invisible enemy. Children giggled, tossing pebbles to see if they’d flinch, but the cowpoke never budged. As the sun climbed, sweat ran down their face, yet still they held firm, insisting that any step could mean accidental death for a mouse, beetle, or lizard. By sundown, even the local saloon started a betting pool, odds laid on whether the cowpoke would cave before morning or be found keeled over like a scarecrow.
Through the night, owls hooted and coyotes yipped, but the cowpoke stood stiff as a tree. When dawn broke, they raised their arms to stretch, with just hours to go. By this time several folks had gathered to watch the incredible feat. The cowpoke who managed to spend nearly 24 hours on their feet was tired by motivated by the energy of the crowd. The final hours passed until just minutes remained. As onlookers counted down the final minute a sharp ‘caw’ sound drew attention toward a murder of crows. One swooped low and turned sharply to avoid the crowd only to collide into the tired cowpoke. The bird fell to the ground dead. The crowd gasped in shock as the cowpoke stared at the dead bird in defeat before passing out. Folks were kind enough to load the poor cowpoke onto a wagon and rode them into town.
The Five States Herald 