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.
Letter from the editor:
Dear readers,
Just as we were about to dismiss the rumors of the undead rising, a new story comes that pulls us in. After all, it is not for us to decide the truth but to report what happens. Further, we have received through the post a few pages of a manuscript. Some weeks ago, readers, you likely remember that we posted here a page of a story found near Bard’s Crossing. At the time it appeared interesting, though it brought up an interesting question: is this the kind of content a newspaper should print? It seemed interesting and I decided to be bold and so we shared it. And now this very author, Mr. Theodore Levin has been so bold as to mail me more pages to this story. The full story? No, another fragment. And so once again I am forced to ask myself, is this the content a newspaper should be printing?
Moreover, is the Herald merely a means to an end for failed authors? Am I to be a pawn for this man’s fame? I pondered much while reading this latest entry into the story of Mag the Red. Suffice to say I was intrigued and I thought this one thing: what is it the Herald’s readers want, if not stories? And this is indeed a story, a story about someone or may or may not have existed and their exploits here in the Five States. And so, I have chosen to continue this journey, for now. But know this Mr. Levin, I do this not for your fame. I do this so that the Herald’s readers interest may be sated.
William Warrington III, Editor in Chief
Undead sighting in West Elizabeth
By Mathilde Orry
The investigation into the living dead continues this week, though in truth that was not the intention. I was ready to shut the door on this nonsense of living corpses when I stumbled upon a story unlike others I have heard, with the picture evidence to prove it. Before I get there, however, I found Marie Laveau, daughter of former Voodoo Queen Cat Laveau. She died some time before the sightings of zombies began. While on a boat on the Lannahechee River, a storm suddenly formed and her boat was overcome. Her body was found dead as a result of drowning.
This development spooked me a bit. The timing seemed to fit. I went to Saint Denis to have a drink and come about my wits, surely I could not be believing this supernatural nonsense? That is when I came to meet Bartleby, a modest farmer with a homestead near Mattock Pond. Recently Bartleby has been lured by potential riches and taken into collecting for Madam Nazar and while on one such trip, he nearly died. Twice.
Having recently purchased a metal detector, Bartleby was on his way to riches searching around Strawberry. He detected something and while focused intently was ambushed by a grizzly bear. His horse, affectionately named NoName, saved his life simply by being spooked and warning Bartleby in time to deal with the bear. However, once that business was handled a new threat emerged. One that shook Bartleby to the point that he nearly did not want to retell his tale.
Silent as a windless night, a grey woman appeared behind him. She remained still, quietly watching him skin the bear he had just killed. Spooked, Bartleby tried talking to the woman. Her silence was more than ignoring him, it was like the complete absence of anyone even being there. Like she was a void. ” Now, I’m not a superstitious man, just a little stitious and so I grab my varmint rifle and put a round in her foot,” he said, but she did not react.
Bartleby fled, only to be drawn back to the same area by a wild dog. Only this time, the woman was no longer standing, but floating. He took two photographs of the womang. Understand that photographs require one to be perfectly still, and so when you see her floating you will know she was truly floating and not momentarily in the air. Seeing is believing and so I will continue the search for zombies and whatever other supernatural phenomena occurs in the Five States.
I am a true believer now and there are questions that must be answered. Was Marie Laveau killed by a freak occurrence of nature or a rival who conjured the storm? Has the spirit of her mother, the powerful Kat Laveau sought revenge by raising the dead? Do spirits walk among us? Soon, readers, I will find out and so shall you.
New Austin
Sheriff Freeman happy to be rid of major bounty
By Alois Burditt
Last week Barbarella Alcazar was spotted in Gaptooth Ridge. Associated with the Del Lobos gang through her late husband Ricardo, Alcazar took a more prominent position in the gang after becoming a widow. Calling herself the Bandit Queen, she commanded the loyalty of a small army of Del Lobos gang members. Wanted for extortion and murder, Barbarella Alcazar was on the wanted list of many states and upon being sighted in New Austin, the bounty was posted across the Five States.
Many bounty hunters came into Tumbleweed on their way to Gaptooth Breach. “Easy to tell the amateurs from the professionals,” Sheriff Freeman told me when I asked for his thoughts. While the businesses of Tumbleweed benefited greatly from the increase in visitors, Sheriff Freeman was wary. “For some of these folks it’s a goddamn status thing. Sit out here drinking and twirling their guns telling everyone they’re hunting Barbarella. No you ain’t fool! You’re goddamn drinking!”
Barbarella Alcazar was finally brought in by a team of four bounty hunters, who Sheriff Freeman never saw until they brought her and her two top men in. According to Sheriff Freeman they likely camped in the wilderness instead of staying in town. After turning the bounty in they did not stay long. They brushed off their horses and fed them before riding out of town and back to where they came from.
Past wars pay off for present collector’s potential futures
By Wylie Frey
New Austin is an area that has seen its share of war. As a result, many settlements have been abandoned on short notice. These past hardships have made for an area rich with valuables for those recently taking up the title of collector. “It’s either folk trying to start fights, or folk with metal detectors. The metal detector folks can be a bit eccentric, but they ain’t trouble,” say Sheriff Freeman of Tumbleweed. The area is so rich with collectibles that some have called it a second gold rush.
“I have lots of folks shopping in my store again,” says Miss Chambers, operator of the Tumbleweed general store. It seems the jobs initiative pushed through by the BHTC may have saved a dying town.
Profile: Sheriff Freeman
By Alois Burditt
It seems that nearly every week Sheriff Freeman is mentioned or quoted in this paper. Against his better judgement, he agreed to sit down over as many beers as I was willing to buy to tell his story.
Born a slave in Arkansas, Sam Freeman had few prospects in his early life. During the Civil War, Freeman’s owner George Reeves joined the Confederacy and took Sam Freeman with him. During the war sometime, Freeman and Reeves played a card game that turned into an argument. Freeman beat his owner nearly to death and fled into Indian Territory.
Freeman remained in Indian Territory, taking up with the Cherokee, Creeks, and Seminole tribes for the entire Civil War. When the war ended, Freeman was a free man, “I chose Freeman as my last name because being free was important. I wanted to wear it as a way I could remind fools I was no slave. Hello, I’m Sam FREEman. Get it?” Freeman also learned several Indian languages and the layout of the land, something that would serve him during his career as a lawman.
In 1875, Freeman’s reputation as a man who knew the Indian languages and their territory got to people in high places and Freeman was appointed as a Deputy Marshall. Sam Freeman became the first black deputy to serve west of the Lannahechee River. “Sure it made me proud, but that fight was already won. Supposed to have been anyway. I wasn’t fighting for my skin color, I was fighting for me and my family and to do what was right.
For two decades Sam Freeman worked as deputy in Indian Territory, where he earned a reputation as a skilled tracker and lawman. He claims have made over 3,000 arrests and to have killed over a dozen criminals in self defense. Through all of that Freeman was never injured. So loyal to the law is Sam Freeman that when his own son became a wanted fugitive, Freeman not only volunteered but demanded to be the one to bring him in. He caught up to his son and arrested him with no altercation. “He’s a good man now, just made some bad choices. Can’t be easy to have your own father track you down like a dog, but he learned his lesson.”
After his many years in Indian Territory, Freeman was ready to rest. “I ain’t no spring chicken no more. My bones need more rest than they used to.” He settled down in Tumbleweed when he heard of a lawless land in need of law enforcement. Since then he has remained content in the dry and warm enviroment of Gaptooth Ridge. “Oh the town might be dying, I don’t know. But I’ll be the last one here. So long as some poor soul lives here there will be need of someone standing up for the law. I’ll be that line ’til the end.”
Ambarino
Bounty hunters swarm Ambarino in search of a monster
By Jane Duran
In an unexpected turn, the U.S. government put a bounty on a man who seemed to be more myth than real. Called the Wolf Man, this bizarre individual was said to live with wolves in the Grizzlies. His true name now forgotten, the Wolf Man found himself the prey of a great hunt.
A hunting party tracking deer far south of the Wolf Man’s last known location heard a roar and looked up in time to see a terrified man riding a terrified horse while screaming, “bear!” A member of the party took aim and put the bear down in one shot while the terrified man came to a halt. He thanked them profusely while warming up at their fire.
“We gave him food, but it seemed it was the cigarettes that really calmed him down,” One ofhte hunters said. The man told them he, “… came up here to hunt the Wolf Man. Holy hell, literal wolves and a bear? I’m headed back south.” The main remained at their camp for several hours, refusing to even glance north. His horse finally calmed down after the party provided some horse meal. All in all, the man was shaken but headed back south very much alive. Perhaps hunters of men do not make the best hunters of beasts.
Horse lanterns for sell!
The world is a dangerous place, why make it more dangerous by traveling in the dark? Rocks and holes are hidden from sight but not from your horses steps! Prevent injury and light up the night with a horse lantern today. Only $350!
Collectors Wanted!
Do you explore the places the paths don’t go? Are you unafraid of the unknown? You could be one of Madam Nazar’s Collectors! To apply, find her to prove your worth (and bring 15 gold bars)
West Elizabeth
Professional killer in West Elizabeth?
By Ela Q. Asken
A startling discovery was made just southeast of the Owanjila Dam. A body was found be an explorer looking for artifacts. Down river from Owanjila Lake the explorer found a body trapped in the rocks. The water drops over two falls before flowing becoming the Upper Montana River. It was between these water falls that the explorer found the body.
“He looked terrified. I mean, his face was frozen in a look of horror like I’ve never seen. Whatever that man saw last was evil incarnate, the devil,” The man said. The body was pulled out of the river and taken into Strawberry, where the local doctor took a break from fishing to examine the body at my request. And by request, I mean an offer of payment.
The man’s wrists had rope burns on him and one wrist still had some rope on it. His legs were still bound at the ankles. This indicated he was still alive when he hit the water and that he did not jump in voluntarily. The clues, and suffering, do not end there. The man was bruised and bloody, indicating he hit the rocks in the river hard. Unsurprisingly, his lungs were full of water. For all the man went through, it was the drowning that did him in.
I accompanied a deputy from Strawberry to the scene as he looked for clues. However, the search revealed nothing. Whoever killed this man was a professional. The deputy left, but I remained behind. The victim’s attire was slightly out of place here, common of the Del Lobos gang. Could this have been part of the renewed hostilities against the Del Lobos gang?
Something seemed wrong, something was off. It was on the dam itself that I found my answer. I wondered, what was the killer thinking as they threw this man to his death? I realized then that the killer threw the man from the dam. No tracks along the river, but plenty of tracks on the trail that goes over the damn. Too many to track. But something caught my eye. On the floor something unique, something most would not have noticed. A cigarette filter, but one unlike what you see on commercially available cigarettes. This killer rolled his own cigarettes, and perhaps his arrogance of leaving the filter behind will be his undoing.
Shoot out in Tall Trees
By Nick McCrary
The Tall Trees region of West Elizabeth is not always quiet. While the forest offers one the feeling of being isolated from the rest of the world, the sound of gun shots are common as many hunters come to Tall Trees to hunt big game. However, I have learned that this past week there was gunfire of another kind.
The Del Lobos gang had been spotted near Aurora Basin and the gang was ambushed by a small posse of gunfighters. Those who heard the gunshots knew none of the details, however I found two critical facts. First, a large bounty was issued for Alfredo Montez, one of the leaders of the Del Lobos gang. Second, there is a rumor that Jorge Montez was killed this week, perhaps by Marshall Tom Davies. These two facts lead me to believe the ambushers were coming for Alfredo Montez the night the gunfire was heard but failed, and so took Jorge as a consolation prize.
Marshall Davies was confirmed to be operating in the area, but neither he nor his superiors replied for comment. The assault on Del Lobos this week could be a concerted effort to push the mostly Mexican gang out of the states, but will this lead to a larger range war of sorts across the New Austin and West Elizabeth?
Frustration with Madam Nazar’s wandering ways
By Caylen V. Hornby
Part of the Bureau for Hurdling a Tarrying Congress’ jobs initiative, Madam Nazar was contracted to guide new adventurers on their journey to become collectors of the exotic. It was reported in this paper that Madam Nazar did not require any funding and yet has been able to make hundreds of large purchases from collectors over the last several weeks. As long as the money keeps flowing though, nobody seems interested in how she obtained her wealth. What is frustrating collectors however, is Madam Nazar’s habit of moving around the Five States and leaving no clue as to her new location.
All over the Five States collectors have run into each other in Madam Nazar’s previous locations and have expressed their frustration of not being able to purchase new maps or sell items they have obtained. “I’m told I can send her collections of items in the mail, but how the hell does it get to her if nobody can ever find her?” One collector told me as I spoke with them south of O’Creagh’s run, where Madam Nazar first appeared in the Five States.
I traveled the Five States in search of the gypsy woman. I tried south of Emerald Ranch, where I found more frustrated collectors. One though, whistled and waved until I walked up to her. She pointed her gun at the ground so I dug and found a bracelet. Not a complete loss. I traveled to Big Valley next. Here I discovered the startling lack of animals hunters have been discussing, but I did not find Madam Nazar. Traveling through Tall Trees, I maid my way to New Austin, where I found more frustrated collectors. Though none were friendly and one opened fire. I rode as fast I could away.
I finally found her while hastily fleeing New Austin. She was in the Great Plains, where my choice to travel through Tall Trees meant I missed her. I questioned her about the frustrations expressed by “her” collectors, as she refers to them. “They must not be much of a collector if they cannot find me,” she said while dancing casually and listening to music. I sold her a bracelet and went on my way. As I rode off she called out, “Come find me again, if you are worthy.”
New Hanover
Assault on Cornwall Kerosene & Tar
By Emery Cosberry
Cornwall Kerosene & Tar was taken by a surprise assault. Expecting a train “of Pinkerton agents and other private security” (nice way of saying strikebreakers) to handle a “private matter” (recent strike maybe?) for the company. When the train arrived, however, the expected agents were dead and an unknown group of gunfighters began opening fire. The Pinkerton train had two mounted maxim guns, one wonders what for, that were turned against the Cornwall guards.
Leviticus Cornwall could not be reached for comment, however Vice President of Cornwall Kerosene & Tar Cameron Spence said, “We operate in a near lawless land, these things happen.” He would not further comment on whether or not anything was taken. However, I have found out that Cornwall has filed insurance claims for lost bonds.
Bounty hunter takes two bounties with little effort
By Van R. Seldon
While waiting for a my train at Emerald Station I was told the most remarkable story of a bounty hunter sighting. Not far from the train station where I sat, at Heartland Overflow a bounty hunter encountered two men. He rode a steel prison wagon. A silver Turkoman with a braided main and tail was hitched to the wagon and walking alongside. The bounty hunter wore grey and black, with a long brown and and a brown beard. “I don’t know guns, I know horses. That’s how I knew it was a Turkoman, but the man had some kinda rifle,” he said, “I had been napping under a tree when it happened.” The description matches the known bounty hunter Nathaniel Cross, including the horse.
Seeing something the witness could not, the bounty hunter shouted out, “Hey fellas, we know how this is going to end, so why don’t you just come along and take a ride on the Flying Spoon?” Suddenly, a man comes out of the bushes as if pushed while the other took off running. The bounty hunter jumped from the wagon to his horse and pulling the reigns in one motion. He rode hard and pistol whipped the stumbling man before chasing the runner. He swung something over his head, which I identified as a bolas based on the description, and threw it, tangling the runner up.
In short notice he had both men tied up, only he did not load them into the wagon, “Runners don’t get a free ride,” the bounty hunter said before yelling out, “Bad Moon, here girl!” Which confirms the identity of this bounty hunter as Cross. He tied both men’s hands together and then to each other. Their ankles were tied as well but with enough slack that they could walk. Cross tied both men to a rope that was secured to the wagon.
He rode off on his wagon, pulling the two bounties who were forced to walk beside it, while his horse walked calmly behind them. “Could go to Valentine, but maybe Tumbleweed will pay more?” Was the last thing the witness heard. Unlucky bastards, should have just rode the Flying Spoon, whatever that is.
Lemoyne
Challenger to Governor Murphy James nearly assassinated
By Aloysius Levron
Governor James shocked many this year when he supported an amendment to the state constitution that disenfranchised black American voters. This action, which was covered in this very paper, sparked outrage and led to many challengers to James’ governorship. One of those challengers was Fender Chase, who claims his grandmother was an abolitionist. Chase has drawn a clear line between himself and other candidates with his commitment to Civil Rights.
Tragedy nearly struck when Chase’s train was almost derailed. The engineer saw something wrong and pulled the breaks in time, averting crisis. The rails ahead had been sabotaged. “Had they did this around a bend, I wouldn’t have seen it. Good thing they weren’t very bright and did it on a straightaway.” The two men were identified as Bert Jenner and Bob Springfield. They were arrested shortly after and were found to have a large amount of cash on them. It is clear they were paid, but by who?
It seems likely it was one of Chase’s rivals. Unfortunately, further questioning from the authorities could not be done as the men escaped police custody. As they were locked up, it seems a sympathetic lawman freed the men, though the Chief of the Saint Denis police is not saying anything. A bounty has been issued for both men.
Woman rescued, but cannot thank hero
By Mathilde Orry
A woman traveling in Bluewater Marsh decided to take a rest in a broken down wagon, thinking it would keep her safe from alligators. While that was true, she had not counted on waking up surrounded by them. Without an exit she screamed for a help. “A fellow come ridin’ along and I figure I’m saved!” The rider pulled out a rifle and was shooting while he dismounted.
“It was truly impressive. Never seen anything like it!” It in short order the alligators were killed before the man stepped foot on the ground. The rider put his rifle over his shoulder and asked the woman if she was okay. As he bent down to take a tooth as a trophy, another alligator surfaced and charged at him. Caught off guard the alligator was able to grab the man before he could get his rifle. He pulled out his revolver but could not get a shot as the alligator pulled him into the bayou. “I ain’t proud of it, but I ran and jumped on that man’s horse and took off. I mean… he was already dead, nothing I could do.”
Traders band together to protect each other’s deliveries
By Adam Parvey
The expansion of small businesses across the Five States has had a profound effect on the region. Last week this paper covered the rise in thefts. However, there has also been an increase in cooperation. Traders from all over the Five States have joined together in loose unions to protect each other’s goods. So far there has been no shortage of buyers and so traders have little reason to actively compete against one another and so they have instead chosen to cooperate for their mutual benefit.
Each trader takes their turn delivering their goods while the others act as hired guns. “We still pay each other, but less than you’d pay a normal hired gun who doesn’t need your help too,” said one of the traders. This arrangement appears to be working in the short term and so long as buyers are plentiful, the traders believe this is a long term solution to traveling with a wagon full of goods in a hostile land. But what about when cooperation becomes unfeasible? “Why worry about what may or may not be? Let’s just enjoy it now and make lasting alliances so that cooperation is always feasible,” said another trader.
The cooperation does not end there. Recently traders have come together to charter a train to deliver supplies to their camps. Like delivery escorting, banding together means the traders do not need to spend extra money to hire guards. By joining together they can pick up all of the supplies they need on the train while defending the goods from bandits. Train orders are always worrisome for many traders as they often go through untamed land. Using strength in numbers, the traders are able to repel outlaws and move more supplies than they could on their own.
Across the Nation
A nation unequal post Civil War
By Frederick Vannesse
Many compromises were made at the founding of the United States of America, none would have such lasting effects as the treatment of slaves. Counted as 3/5 of a person, slaves were written into the U.S. Constitution despite the promise of Liberty underlying the document. Fortunately, the promise of the Constitution is one made in good faith and so this great nation has made attempts to bring the promise to all.
The Civil War was supposed to end once and for all not just slavery, but the unequal treatment of black Americans. The promise was only partially matched and two years ago, the Supreme Court decided in Plessy v. Ferguson that separate facilities for blacks and whites are legally permissible if the facilities are equal. Let me tell you that if you journey in the South, the facilities are anything but equal. All through the South, free black Americans, proper citizens, are forced into conditions white people would not put their animals through. Shame on Congress and the Southern legislatures for ignoring the promise of the U.S. Constitution and limiting Liberty to a few when it belong to us all.
Around the Globe
Innovation brings tragedy with progress
By Ivy Seager
In London, a man has lost his life when he lost control of his automobile. The technology is still new and yet to be accepted by society as a whole. Though many speculate that the automobile will replace the horse as the primary means of long distance travel. Yet among such speculation and fanciful tales of the future, the great risk of new technology is often ignored. Mr. Leonard Henry lost control of his automobile while going downhill.
The stretch of road he lost control on was a public highway shared with horses and wagons. Mr. Henry turned slightly off the road while trying to regain control and crashed into a tree. It is believed he died instantly. This is the first recorded automobile related death on a public highway and some worry it will slow down enthusiasm for cars.
Folklore of the Five States
A Girl of Green
By Theodore Levin
At the water’s edge she stood, as she had done every evening of the last few weeks, watching the boats come and go. Horns blowing in the distance as the waves lapping against the docks and jetty’s gently at first but now louder as the evening brought a slight chill and a wind that was a welcome relief to the sticky Saint Denis summer nights as it swept through her wild red hair. Trying to make out the names of the boats as they went by and inventing stories of where in the world they were bound to sail and the cargo on board, wondering if there were perhaps some stowaways hidden in search of a new life as she had once had to do herself. These past weeks more and more she thought of Ireland and longed to see her family, were any of the ships headed home to Béal Feirsde? Reality soon came knocking, America had been her home for the last nine years, Lemoyne for the last two and her family were dead so there was nothing for her to go back to.
The overwhelming sense of sadness that followed her to the new world was still present, always there in her mind as she scratched a living picking pockets and fencing anything she could get her hands on. Expenses were beyond modest staying in little more than a cupboard masquerading as a room above Doyle’s Tavern in the northeast of the city, still it was cheap and with helping Mr Doyle with odd jobs here and there killing rats and the like it was as close to free lodgings as she could hope for and his stew wasn’t too bad, leaving more money to pour into her fledgling Whiskey habit. Truth be told Mr Doyle took pity on her and kept her close to keep an eye on her but had learnt to stay out of her business. See by putting back her earnings into the Tavern coffers every night this was an attempt to block out her demons, to forget the cold blooded murder of her mother, the anger she couldn’t extinguish and the melancholic truth that she can no longer recall the only memory she had of her father, a kiss goodbye on a fateful night.
Alcohol was a crutch but catharsis like this is not guaranteed and many a night after drinking herself to sleep, in her dreams her demons take on a more literal tone as the howling Bean Sí circles. Many a night she wakes up terrified in a cold sweat, though the noise from the neighbourhood soon became a sort of comfort, even if she didn’t always understand the languages being bellowed. This part of the city was a hotbed of crime and the law were never far away but the people were warm, from places you never heard of and she felt this has a semblance of home.
She carried on watching the ships as dusk drew in, every now and then scattering a few crumbs into the water for any hungry fish, the evening was getting on with moonlight blanketing the river with a milky hue with the boats in the distance now harder to see. She pulled out a pocket watch, a Reutlinger, lifted that very day along with a few other valuables from one of those mansions on the west of town with the laughable security measures. The watch was seen by most as a sort of status symbol and fetched a very good price, she had sold a couple of these before but she fancied this one for herself so decided to keep it.
Her purse was feeling relatively full today, the remaining jewels had given her enough for a hot bite to eat and a few shorts down at the Bastille Saloon as well as a stake for some poker, the overpriced whiskey stop it being a regular haunt but she hoped a change of scenery would do the world of good so she started off in that direction. Walking alone in Saint Denis at night isn’t well advised but knowing she was a fair shot with her revolver and light on her feet there wasnt much thought given to the cautionary tales of women alone in the city, taking in the sights, smells and sounds of the cityscape until she could hear the music and laughter from that grand old saloon. “Thanks Christ” she thought, smelling the food from within as her belly was making noises akin to a locomotive as she stepped through the door towards the bar.
“You Irish?”
“Yes I am, for my sins..what gave me away?”
“No Irish!”
“What’s the craic I’m only at getting some food, a few drinks and a hand or two of poker?”
“No Irish!!”
“But I’ve been here before and had no troub..”
The barman interrupted, uneasy now and impatient..
“I said NO IRISH..they say the O ‘Driscolls are in town, i’m trying to protect my interest..that means no Irish..AT ALL!”
There was no mistaking the sound that followed, the cocking of a shotgun, cutting through the Bastille’s ambiance like a butcher’s cleaver as the piano and chatter stopped instantly.
“Now leave”
Not fancying a belly full of buckshot in place of a proper meal, she left quietly not noticing she was followed. The stranger had been watching the events unfold from a smoky corner of the saloon and seeing his opportunity, kept the trail on her as she turned this way and that through the back streets keeping a distance until he was sure they were the only two souls around.
“Hey you Red”
She gasped as she heard the dark haired strangers whisper from behind, taken aback and more scared than she would have you believe. Her fingers were already on her revolver.
“What are you at following me, I’ll shoot you dead so I will
“Relax Red I heard you having a wee bit of bother back there in the bar..”
His voice disarmed her a touch, she couldn’t place the accent but she knew it was from the old country, his blue eyes seemed to fix her gaze onto his.
“So what, what’s that got to do with you exactly? That’s my business”
“Heard you talking about O’Driscolls, how do you know about them?”
She didn’t.
“I’ve got less than a clue who they are”
“Hmm I think your lying..I think you’re one of them”
“I’ve never even heard of them, why would I lie? He turned me away ‘cos I was Irish that’s all I know. They must be some sort of gang but that’s just my guess.”
She didn’t know why she felt the need to justify herself to him, it wasnt fear now it was something else and she was visibly shaking.
“Are you gonna use that thing then or what..or can I get you a drink Red?”
“No chance boy, just what’s your game then you scared me half to death.”
The man ignored the question
“What’s your name Red?”
“Nice try why would I tell you that..”
“Let’s just say I’ve got sympathy when a girl gets turned away from a bar when she clearly needs a drink, sure you can’t be persuaded?”
“My hero..NO..now leave me alone I’m going home”
She took the long way home, making sure she wasn’t followed until she got back to Doyle’s, grabbed an opened bottle of single malt and headed upstairs to turn in.
She slept surprisingly sound, this came as shock as it felt like her first decent night’s sleep in forever. She felt rested and playful enough to chase the cats around the alleyways of the slums and seemed to prefer that to another day grinding, in a flash she felt like a young girl all over again. She still had most of yesterday’s haul that she couldn’t spend the evening before so with a day to herself she thought it was worth another try down the Bastille, the itch of playing a good game of poker not yet scratched. “Who was that man last night?” she wondered, as she had been all day. The Saloon was closed when she arrived, knocking the door loudly to make sure before checking through the gap in the curtains. It seemed strange this place was always open but thinking it just wasn’t her day she headed back towards her side of town, there was always a game of cards to be found somewhere and she could get a quick drink at Doyle’s on the way.
Some of the men welcomed her as she came in, the ones that were in there as much as she was were a mostly pleasant bunch so she greeted them cheerfully as the brown liquor was poured, heading to her seat barely noticing the man reading the paper as she went by.
“Afternoon Red”
She nearly dropped her precious whiskey, her stomach was in knots.
“You again..stalking me now are you..that’s twice I’ve nearly shot you now you know that, how’d you find me?”
“Easy, you don’t quite blend in as much as you think you do..i asked around you are an interesting one..now how about that drink?”
“Fine but make it quick, I’ve places to be..”
“Not only do I know that’s a lie, I also know your name..Evangeline McGrath.”
How could he have known that, she couldn’t help feel drawn to this man. A strange feeling.
“How could you possibly know that?
“I told you, I asked around..it’s a pretty name but god is it long to say, I’m going to call you Mag instead.”
“Well then sure you should tell me yours then Mr Gentleman”
“ Its Domhnall.”
They proceeded to drink and talk, sharing stories and singing rebel songs until the sun was well and truly down and midnight was knocking and it was time for Domhnall to leave.
“I knew you weren’t an O’Driscoll you know Mag”
“So you believe me now, what made you change your mind?”
“Im Domhnall O’Driscoll”
Laughing as he left, Evangeline watched him all the way as he mounted his black horse and with a tug of the reins disappeared northeast, out towards the Bluewater Marsh.
“Closed for refurbishment, that’s what folks are saying at least. The barman he owns it..O’l Pete Mimieux. He’s an odd fellow at the best of times, sometimes he visits family up near Van Horn..aint sure he’s even French” All Evangeline wanted was to play poker, asking anyone around the neighbouring streets of the Bastille why the Saloon had not opened since that night she was turned away which was about three weeks ago but she would tell you it felt like three days.
Domhnall had dropped in on her a few times since, sometimes just chatting and others helping her loot some valuables even bringing a couple of his boys along to help. There was Padraig who was a young lad born in America but with family ties to Dún na nGall and also Butch, a quiet older and weathered man who seemed to have magnets for hands. They were fair thieves and made her more those couple of times than she had made In the last month and the more she spent time with them, the more she felt part of something, almost like a family but she still preferred it when it was just herself and Domhnall.
They talked about everything from her time in America and how she ended up there to the pressure he is under being the nephew of the O’Driscoll leader his uncle Colm and the responsibilities that come with being a high ranking member of the gang at such a young age, she learnt he was only three years her senior but he talked and carried himself like someone much older but the young, fearless twinkle in his eye was never far away. She did something she never did, she told him all about what happened in Ireland to first her Rebel Dad and then the R.U.C murder of her Mother, how she had to run and never look back, ultimately escaping a life of institutions and prejudice. Something about Domhnall put her at ease but she’d heard rumours of what the O’Driscolls do but she hadn’t seen anything remotely like that, perhaps she was listening to her heart and not her head.
“You’re a tough one Mag I’ll give you that, I wonder just how tough you could be..”
She didn’t know what to say to that or what he even meant, she smiled as he looked her up and down.
“You like working with us..with me?”
“I like it somewhat..” her attempts to play it cool fell flat
“Meet me at the Farmhouse due north of town tonight after midnight”
It was gone twelve when she arrived and the farmhouse was dark and quiet seemingly empty, it was an odd place to meet and who knows if he would even turn up, was he playing a trick at her expense or was he trying to scare her she wasn’t sure. She opened the side door and went in though she struggled to see a thing until the crack of a door revealed a slight flickering ember of light so she followed it into the next room and to the source. Padraig was there and Dutch and a few others she had not had the pleasure of meeting stood silent as she scanned around the room for Domhnall until eyes met his and they both smiled, she felt at ease almost at home in the presence of this part of the O’Driscoll gang and wondered if she would be taken into the family. It had been a long time since she felt anything like this, thinking to herself that she would be alone for the rest of her days, could it be the family she was looking for?
Could this be happiness at last?
As she approached Domhnall O’Drsicoll she could make out that twinkle in his eyes, he was stood next to something she couldn’t quite make out, a dark shape of some sort was it a surprise? For her? He beckoned her over slowly, holding his lantern aloft illuminating the room as Evangeline eyes adjusted to the shape next to him as a muffled panic grunting could be heard. A sickening feeling rose inside her as she realised this was no object at all this was a man tied and beaten and gagged, clothes hanging off him like he’d not seen a proper meal in a few weeks and then it sunk in, she knew this man.
“You remember this man Red?”
She could barely talk, Domnhall shot her a devilish look as if it was the most fun anyone could have.
“It..its the owner of the Bastille Saloon..Pete Mimieux”
“Good answer Red, it is Pete Mimiuex..and you should hear what he has to say about you”
To be continued..
The Five States Herald 