Quentin watched the reverence Smith had for the rifle after he had handed it over to him. He smiled at the artisan's appreciation he held for the weapon.
The next question about the ranch surprised Quentin as it seemed very random, but he did not feel any real alarm.
"It the Lost Lake spread...it's a ways outside of town...why do you ask?"
@ [Cubanwriter]
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland nodded at the name of the ranch. Not one on the 'naughty list,' and so there was no reason to be concerned about accepting an invitation there.
But when Quentin asked him about why he'd posed the question, he hesitated about how to politely explain. How could he say, 'I've heard a lot of bad things about one of the ranches in town' without seeming impolite, or like a gossip?
"I've heard that there are several ranches near Kalispell, some held in high esteem by the locals," he said at last, failing to add 'and some not held in high esteem at all.'
"I only wondered which of these institutions you might call your own," he concluded.
There, that sounded innocent enough, surely?
"I shall look for you to name the date. I will bring a bottle of something sinister we can all enjoy when we're not partaking of tea."
He added a wink to his smile, hoping that bump was all smoothed over.
Quentin regarded the gun maker with his gaze for several heartbeats. He debated the various possibilities of his question, then figured that if the newcomer had not been acquainted with the situation in and around Kalispell, then Quentin would be remiss in not letting him know the lay of the land. He set the teacup aside and leaned his crossed arms on the counter.
"Roland, I don't know how much you have been told about what's going on around here, but there is a war coming. It's not much of a war as wars go, but it means everything to those about to fight it..." Quentin smiled as he saw Roland's expression change a bit.
"My sister and her husband were killed by people trying to take Lost Lake. They missed two of their children when they made their move so Lost Lake belongs to them now. Myself and Shade Thornton...her husband's brother, came out here to take over. We've been running Lost Lake with the help of Harriet Mercer...I mentioned her earlier."
Quentin looked back over at Roland from where he had been just idly staring at the wall of the shop. "...the people who killed my sister and Shade's brother are the Steelgraves. They run the Evergreen ranch. I don't know how much you know about them or even if you have encountered any of them since you arrived, but I am warning you they are evil people and you would be well served not to deal with them."
Quentin lifted a hand and pointed down at where Roland had put the Winchester. "That weapon you are making for me is for them. They're going to be coming for us...Me, Shade, Harriet...all the family and people that work there. If they do...when, they do...I plan to litter this territory with bodies. From Lost Lake to Kalispell to the front door of the Evergreen ranch house." Quentin smiled at Roland again, but the smile did not climb up anywhere near the eyes that looked back at the gun maker.
"Now, you feel free to decide what you think of the Steelgraves on your own. I'm not trying to scare you or intimidate you about who they are. You meet them and make up your own mind about them. Just understand that if the war comes, nobody will get to sit on the sidelines...the Steelgraves will make you pick a side."
Tag [Cubanwriter]
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland could feel a certain mania within Quentin as he told his story. And one well-earned, from the sound of things.
He'd been told a bit about the Evergreen ranch before. By Caroline, and by her Bounty-Hunter friend Mr. Flagg he'd run into at Clara's Lickskillet restaurant. But he'd only heard a bit before now. As the entire bloody and tragic tale was unfurled, Roland was taken aback. It was worse than he'd imagined.
In ancient times, there had been wars fought between petty kings. The leaders of City-States competing for power and territory. It seemed that not much had changed. Out here on the frontier, wealthy ranchers had taken the place of petty kings. Ten-thousand-acre ranches had replaced fortified cities.
And perhaps men like Quentin had become the modern knights who did battle on behalf of the ranch-lords.
In this case, however, it sounded like one end of this ranch-lord conflict were mere children.
"I must confess I'd heard a taste of this tale before. The name 'Evergreen' does not seem to be a favored one in town, and I wondered if that was your ranch. But this tale is far more bitter than I'd suspected. I grieve to hear of it. Such stories belong in Shakespeare tragedies, not in the real lives of civilized human beings."
He paused, collecting his thoughts.
"I will be swift with the modifications, lest you be caught out without your rifle. And when I visit you next, I will be sure to bring my own long-arm. If anyone should think to blemish the occasion with violence, I'll stand in defense of the house that hosts me."
It seemed that even accepting a dinner invitation on the frontier could be dangerous.
Well, so be it. He would not stand by and watch children murdered for the sake of a land grab.
Quentin gave another smile. "It's the year 1876, and we toss around the word 'Civilized' like we have so much to be proud of. I'll tell you something, Professor...Mankind today, for all of our advances...Science, Shakespeare, The Railroad, The Telegraph....it's all ornaments on a monster. Deep down, under far too few veneers...We're still the animals carrying spears and wearing furs that hunted each other in the dim beginnings of Us..."
Cantrell then stood straighter and made a visible effort to change his expression. "Take your time on the weapon. I will take perfect over fast any day..." He then reached and drained the last of the tea from the cup. "...And you would do well to keep your weapons on you anytime you're not in your shop. There are just as many four legged dangers around Kalispell as there are two legged. Neither version is very scared of a gun nowadays."
Quentin turned and moved to the doorway. He stopped in the frame and glanced back. "I'll have Harriet figure out the best time for a dinner and I will let you know. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Professor. Stay Safe..." He then walked out of the shop toward his horse at the rail outside.
@[Cubanwriter]