"Every town needs a newspaper."
He smiled, "Tho you still haven't said anything that would put anyone's mind at ease about the hospital project."
"Oh that again!" Orr yawned, and opened a desk draw, from which he drew some plans - the ones supplied to the Council many moons ago. But these had been altered, scribbled upon in pencil and ruled lines, calculations dotted the map.
"Yes Dick, that again."
"Here" he thrust the architectural drawings toward Phinn. "I had a architect look them over as soon as the Steelgrave girl submitted them "I then put in a tender to the Council to supply the building materials should the project go ahead... oh, it was about the time of the Whitefish crisis. Believe me Phinn, times like that, you can push just about anything through at the beginning of a meeting." he told the newspaperman, candidly. "I stand to make a good deal of money on the construction of the Hospital. That should be enough to convince you that I'm serious about pushing ahead with all possible speed."
""So I gather all that was required was for Miss Steelgrave to submit her plans, you hijack them, make a couple changes, and claim them for yourself. And therein lies your problem Dick, Leah Steelgrave has the men, building materials, and supplies waiting for the word to start. Or, had you missed that part. There is no profit to be made, which I realize goes against the grain with you." Phinn began. "All that was, is, or ever will be requested of the Town Council was the trade for the land. The simple swap of parcels that get a hospital built at no cost to Kalispell or it's citizens."
He shook his head, "So I am bound not to talk about this plan of yours. Your plan to bankrupt the town for your profit. You should get together with her father, maybe learn a thing or two from him because you damn sure have nothing to teach. You are simply a charlatan, sir. Willing to kill a community off with a cheaply built, third rate structure that will likely not last out the winter! You are a sham, sir, a pitiful excuse for a human being." He got to his feet and tossed the cigar onto the plans where the ash fell off and the burning end of it began to smoulder before bursting into flames.
"So I gather all that was required was for Miss Steelgrave to submit her plans, you hijack them, make a couple changes, and claim them for yourself. And therein lies your problem Dick, Leah Steelgrave has the men, building materials, and supplies waiting for the word to start. Or, had you missed that part. There is no profit to be made, which I realize goes against the grain with you." Phinn began. "All that was, is, or ever will be requested of the Town Council was the trade for the land. The simple swap of parcels that get a hospital built at no cost to Kalispell or it's citizens."
"Curses!" bellowed the tall bearded crooked official: once again the gallant, intelligent and beautiful Miss Steelgrave and her many powerful friends had outfoxed him!
He shook his head, "So I am bound not to talk about this plan of yours. Your plan to bankrupt the town for your profit. You should get together with her father, maybe learn a thing or two from him because you damn sure have nothing to teach. You are simply a charlatan, sir. Willing to kill a community off with a cheaply built, third rate structure that will likely not last out the winter! You are a sham, sir, a pitiful excuse for a human being." He got to his feet and tossed the cigar onto the plans where the ash fell off and the burning end of it began to smoulder before bursting into flames.
"No! My plans!!" yelled the outsmarted Orr and grabbed for the container of water used to mix with the whiskey: unfortunately for him, in the excitement he reached for the decanter of powerful cask strength whiskey and threw that on the increasing conflagration on his desk instead. Realising his horrible mistake, as the flames increased instead of dampened, he pulled back the decanter, depositing a good deal of the flammable liquid onto his sleeve.
Maybe it was that, or the expensive and powerful cologne his wife had sprayed him with that morning, but as he tried to put out the flames fast engulfing the myriad papers on his desk, the flames caught and streaked up his sleeve. "ARRRGGHHH!!!" he yelled as his stumbled back, his clothes quickly catching light and sending an oil lamp on the desk tumbling, adding its fuel to the quickly spreading conflagration.
As Orr flapped about trying to douse the flames about his person, he crashed into a tall bookcase near the window. There was now a horrible smell of burning human hair in the office, as well as smoke, as the flames reached his magnificent beard and oiled moustache, the flailing human torch grasped onto the bookcase in his agony and it toppled over on top of him: scads of books and documents falling off adding yet more kindling to the fire further whilst also crushing the screaming form of Richard Orr beneath it. Black smoke was now coming from the fire and forming a dense pall in the upper reaches of the high office, each second becoming more and more intense and lower in its choking reach.
"Every town needs a newspaper."
"No! My plans!!" yelled the outsmarted Orr and grabbed for the container of water used to mix with the whiskey: unfortunately for him, in the excitement he reached for the decanter of powerful cask strength whiskey and threw that on the increasing conflagration on his desk instead. Realising his horrible mistake, as the flames increased instead of dampened, he pulled back the decanter, depositing a good deal of the flammable liquid onto his sleeve.
This had not been Phinn's idea to destroy the place, perhaps singe the plans, maybe even burn them, but this comedy of Orr's errors was turning the office into an inferno! Threatening the destruction of the entire building. He heard someone yelling "fire," soon the bucket brigade would spring into action and hopefully minimize the damage to just this one office.
Maybe it was that, or the expensive and powerful cologne his wife had sprayed him with that morning, but as he tried to put out the flames fast engulfing the myriad papers on his desk, the flames caught and streaked up his sleeve. "ARRRGGHHH!!!" he yelled as his stumbled back, his clothes quickly catching light and sending an oil lamp on the desk tumbling, adding its fuel to the quickly spreading conflagration.
"Gawddamnit Orr, stand still!" Phinn screamed at the man, trying his best to get to him.
As Orr flapped about trying to douse the flames about his person, he crashed into a tall bookcase near the window. There was now a horrible smell of burning human hair in the office, as well as smoke, as the flames reached his magnificent beard and oiled moustache, the flailing human torch grasped onto the bookcase in his agony and it toppled over on top of him: scads of books and documents falling off adding yet more kindling to the fire further whilst also crushing the screaming form of Richard Orr beneath it. Black smoke was now coming from the fire and forming a dense pall in the upper reaches of the high office, each second becoming more and more intense and lower in its choking reach.
Phinn raced to him as fast he he could move through the flames. The bookcase would be unmovable filled with it's volumes, but empty he grabbed a corner and jerked the case free of Orr, tossing it away from both of them and then hoisted the man on his shoulders and made a dash outside, as the people were responding to the call and forming the line necessary as the water started coming. Speed and Charlie shouting encouragement, as they worked their way into the building and actually stepping inside as the first bucket reached them and the fight to save the courthouse was on.
Phinn got Orr away from the structure shouting for someone, anyone, to get Doc Danforth.The the newspaper man raced back inside to check for anyone else who hadn't escape, but there was no one unaccounted for. He walked back out side to wait with the battered and singed Richard Orr, feeling sick about what had happened. Orr lay in the shade of the overhang waiting for the Doctor.
Graphic warning...
The call of 'Fire!' brought most everyone in to the alarm, after all, even a small fire could easily get out of control and be devastating to the town faster than one might imagine. As he didn't have any patients at the time, Jonah dashed to the scene with the mass of townsfolk, tossing his jacket over a hitching rail before falling in line in the bucket brigade that had already formed.
The building...city offices, was coughing flame, and black smoke billowed toward the sky, casting a shadowy pall over the street, but with persistence, they'd get a handle on it.
Then he noticed McVay dragging something outside and under a tree, and it even took the doctor a moment to realize that it was a human. It was his duty, but he wasn't looking forward to it as he fell out of the brigade line and ran over to the news-man.
"Who is it?" he asked, kneeling beside the still-smoldering form, trying to block the acrid stench of burned flesh that he knew would linger in his nostrils for days. It was impossible to tell, the flesh that wasn't blackened was...and the clothing that hadn't been completely incinerated had become one with the flesh and muscle it had once protected. As for checking a pulse, there just wasn't a place anywhere he could do that, although it wasn't really necessary...the injury was too devastating to survive...
Except...
Where lips once formed words, below a gaping hole that had been a nose, small, bloody bubbles percolated slowly, showing that there was still breath, and breath meant heartbeat...
Cringing, Jonah looked up at McVay and shook his head. It was just a matter of waiting a few moments, and the bubbles would stop...
Hold that critter down!
It was too late. The bubbles were merely air expelling out of the dead lungs. Richard Orr was elsewhere, examining the padlock on the Pearly Gates.
One of the men in the bucket line, and who was getting kinda tired of the work, to be honest, ran over to join the Doctor, the Newspaperman and the charred form on the ground.
"It's Dick Orr!" he yelped "Shit, I was with him but ten minutes ago!! I recognise his boots." Frank Grimes cried. He had come back after parting ways with Lorenzo Crabbe and seen the fracas breaking out.
"It was him, HIM!" he pointed a finger at Phineas. "It was him run in and tried to rescue the poor bastard. Jesus Christ, McVay, you're a God damn hero!" Soon people were murmuring, not just about the startling demise of the town's Postmaster, but also about the thrilling deeds of the local newspaper editor, running into a burning building to rescue the man he had so recently castigated in the pages of his editorials.
More people were arriving, coming out of stores and their homes on hearing the shouts and hullabaloo. On hearing what had happened, both Mrs Orr and Mrs Wigfall had fainted right there in the street and had to be carried to their homes to have the smelling salts presented to their noses.
Hector Wigfall had gone to attend to his mother, but his sister Jemima pushed through the crowd and stared down at the blackened body with a look of odd satisfaction on her usually placid face and was heard to give a dismissive sniff and then mutter "Huh! Well, guess that's him dead."
The next figure to push through, though, was a different kettle of fish: Anæsthesia Orr threw herself bodily onto her father's charred remains, covering her fashionably tight white dress in blood and charred skin fragments before looking up and holding out an imprecating hand to Jonah.
"Oh Doctor Danforth! You must save him! Please!! Oh, poor father! We had quarrelled so! He cannot go like this!!" she wailed, tears streaming down her sooty face, making interesting white rivulets through the black grime.
"Every town needs a newspaper."
"Who is it?" he asked, kneeling beside the still-smoldering form, trying to block the acrid stench of burned flesh that he knew would linger in his nostrils for days. It was impossible to tell, the flesh that wasn't blackened was...and the clothing that hadn't been completely incinerated had become one with the flesh and muscle it had once protected. As for checking a pulse, there just wasn't a place anywhere he could do that, although it wasn't really necessary...the injury was too devastating to survive...
Except...
Where lips once formed words, below a gaping hole that had been a nose, small, bloody bubbles percolated slowly, showing that there was still breath, and breath meant heartbeat...
Cringing, Jonah looked up at McVay and shook his head. It was just a matter of waiting a few moments, and the bubbles would stop...
"Dick Orr." McVay said quietly. "Damned fool! A tragic, tragic, comedy of errors, everything the man touched burst into flames, or made the fire worse. It started with the flame from a cigar ignited some plans on his desk, he panicked and reached for water but got his whiskey decanter by mistake. I'm yelling at him to hold still as he lights one thing after another, including himself, finally, the bookshelf falls on him, I get it off and haul him out here. I'll never forget the screaming, not ever." He plopped down, head hanging.
Jonah nodded as Phineas told him that it was Dick Orr. The only other being that could have been better, Jonah thought, was Elias Steelgrave, but he quickly shoved that uncharitable thought aside.
"Poor soul," he murmured, for burning to death surely had to be one of the worst ways to go. At least, for what it was worth, the man had likely sucked fire into his lungs, quickly ending any conscious thought.
Then his daughter rushed over in a flurry of stunned grief, begging him to do something, and he could only shake his head. "I'm sorry, child, there's nothing to do."
Looking at the men around, he commented, "We need to cover him." As horrible a person Orr may have been, there was no need to have his mortal remains on display for all to see. And he silently thanked himself for taking off his coat earlier!
"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
Hector Wigfall reappeared with a blanket and informed his sister that their mother was recovering on the couch and that she should come home and look after her. Jemima merely shook her head, snatched the blanket and pointed to the hysterical Anæsthesia. Hector took the hint and led the sobbing, blood besmirched girl away with his arm around her... for support.
"Here you are Doctor Danforth." Jemima cooed in as tender a voice as she could muster, as she handed him the blanket, her calloused, wash-day-red hand accidentally brushing against the soft skin of his as she did so. She looked deeply into his dreamy brown eyes. She'd been getting some tips on talking to fellers from Arabella, of all people, and she'd said 'try and find something you've both got in common to talk about!' She tried to think of something.
"Oh, doctor." she said, her hand gripping his as she did so "I forgot to tell you, my cyst's healed up beautiful since you drained it. Do you think I should call round sometime, so you can double check it?" she asked, trying to execute a shy smile that looked more like a grimace of pain.
Sure, trying to pitch woo to the handsome doctor over a charred corpse wasn't ideal, but it was the first chance she had gotten to be near to him since he had caressed her bare back with his surprisingly warm hands over a month ago, and she wasn't about to waste it.
"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
Once the bucket brigade had don the job, beating the flames down and saving the Municiple Center, Speed came out of the room into the hall thanking people for their efforts as he made his way to the street. Ever thankful that the flames had remained contained to what had been Orr's office, though it had simply been an office he commandeered from some poor clerk.Once outside he found his hat and gun hanging on the hitch rail, he put on his hat, slipped his arm through his gunbelt and started toward where Phinn, Doc Danforth, Jemima and Hector Wigfall, as well as the aggrieved family were.
The remains were covered by a blanket awaiting the undertaker.It had been said Phinn had saved Orr, though the man was already gone by the time he got him out. Speed could not think of a more gruesome way to leave this world than burning to death. He took a seat with the others who sat in silence, there was nothing to say, no words that could lighten the load his family would no have to bear. Certainly not one of the most well liked figures in town, but he was a man, a man that left a family behind, hopes, plans, schemes, and dreams. Incinerated in a matter in minutes.
He wanted to say something, but what was there to say, really? He saw the undertaker coming driving his hearse, that meant the family could get on with planning the coming funeral and whatever was to come afterwards for them.
Ralph had been one of the first to respond to the cries of 'FIRE!' and did his fair share on the bucket brigade line. They were lucky it had been daylight and the response was amazingly fast from the locals, the building was saved, only one office had damage but.........one man was dead. Turned out it was Mr. Orr, well that was certainly convenient for Leah Steelgrave and her hospital plans as Orr had been the chief (maybe only) opposition. He noticed as they finished that Matilda and Caroline had made it out of the saloon to watch the excitement.
"Ain't that the very man you said you hated, hon?" Caroline asked her boss.
"Well now, that would be a fairly long list but yes, I detested him. He didn't give a damn about this town's future or the health of it's folks," Matilda smirked, "I'm not gonna waste any tears on his passing."
Caroline shrugged, "Oh well, guess all the excitement's over. Sooo....boss, we gonna close the saloon on the day of his funeral? Or throw a party?"
Matilda gave a chuckle, "Neither, it'll be business as usual. We got a living to make and let's face, he ain't gonna complain."
The two women turned to leave, Caroline giving a little wave to Ralph who nodded.