Storyteller / Shared NPC
Posted November 13, 2021
It was clear to anyone that had occasion to deal with Barnes that he was not the sharpest pencil in the box. And his next move, in a succession of bad moves, took him back to Kalispell. By this time it had been discovered that Caleb had killed both his aunt and uncle, robbed them of whatever they had of value, and left them where they lay in the clapboard house they had called home. Where they had done their best to raise Caleb.
Caleb's first stop was the Stardust Saloon in search of his partner, Frank Grimes, unaware that he was dead, and that most of Kalispell knew what he had done.
Want... dolls!
Caleb's first stop was the Stardust Saloon in search of his partner, Frank Grimes, unaware that he was dead, and that most of Kalispell knew what he had done.
Bridget had been wandering the streets for some time, wanting to show someone the latest penny she'd found on the boardwalks. She might have gone into the saloon to show her friend Arabella, but she wasn't allowed in there. And Jemima, well, she didn't know where she lived. Sometimes she was in the store that sold the pretty ribbons and bonnets and dresses, but that was closed shut now. Well, she'd hang around outside the saloon, might hear some pretty tunes through the swing doors anyhow.
Then she saw a man coming. He looked dusty and sort of sad, or angry. He didn't smile or be happy. Bridget decided she'd show him the coin, the nice shiny coin. She'd polished it up on her nice dress. She walked right in front of Caleb Barnes and held up the tiny round piece of copper-colored metal.
"I founded a coin!" she shouted at him with a giant grin on her face and the light of excitement in her eyes.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
"You what?" Caleb barked. "Look I got no time for this, I gotta find Frank Grimes, and fast!" He started to shove past he to enter the saloon by way of the backdoor in the alley. He had killed two people, maybe three, stolen two, no, three horses and had the law after him by now, unless the Marshal had succumbed. He had hit him pretty hard. The he looked back at the girl.
"Look, you gonna get outta my way, or I gotta move ya!" He was getting angrier as he realized he needed to get out of town, and fast before the Marshal caught him, or that Deputy Charlie Wentworth. He'd like to put a bullet in him! But he needed to find Frank before he lit out.
Want... dolls!
"You what?" Caleb barked. "Look I got no time for this, I gotta find Frank Grimes, and fast!" He started to shove past he to enter the saloon by way of the backdoor in the alley. He had killed two people, maybe three, stolen two, no, three horses and had the law after him by now, unless the Marshal had succumbed. He had hit him pretty hard. The he looked back at the girl.
Bridget frowned. The man didn't understand, she'd found another penny. Another shiny penny! She held it up again to show him but he just shoved her aside and shouted at her. She fell away from him, her lip trembling and a tear in her eye. People sometimes shouted names at her, or laughed at her, but few were ever so outright aggressive to her.
"Look, you gonna get outta my way, or I gotta move ya!" He was getting angrier as he realized he needed to get out of town, and fast before the Marshal caught him, or that Deputy Charlie Wentworth. He'd like to put a bullet in him! But he needed to find Frank before he lit out.
Bridget's clash with the murderer could have ended up a whole lot worse than it did and, importantly, it was not insignificant in its ramifications. It had drawn the attention of people on the street, and as Barnes pushed past the girl, crippled in body and mind, and entered the saloon, Hector Wigfall was running pell-mell down the street to alert Marshal Guyer or, if he wasn't around, Deputy Wentworth.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Caleb Barnes was in for a surprise as he pushed into the saloon, Bridget Monahan standing on the boardwalk staring after him. Frank Grimes was not there, and that was fairly unusual. He was generally at the bar
Caleb strode across the floor to the bar and laid a coin on the bar top. "Whiskey, Flandry. Where'd Frank Grimes, he been in here tonight? We was 'spose ta meet up an' head out." The words tumbled out in a demanding rush. He had not even noticed the new blood stain on the floor. "Well? He been in here or not?"
Ralph observed the man's entry thru the swinging doors, he knew the man by name, he hung around with Grimes most of the time and the two were quite similar in character - only difference now was Caleb was alive and Grimes wasn't. The man approached the bar, paid for a whiskey and demanded information.
Ralph reached for a shotglass and bottle (the cheapest rotgut) as he answered, " I heard ya. I ain't deaf."
"You wanna see your friend, I'd suggest head over to the undertaker's. Grimes is dead."
Caroline sidled up to the bar about then, returning two empty beer glasses from a table, and looked at Caleb, she didn't much like the man, he had all the personality of a rattler, but a customer was a customer.
"Sorry there, Caleb, he got liquored up and went for his gun. The other fella was faster."
Storyteller / Shared NPC
Caleb Barnes half way through raising his glass, "Dead? Whot sonofabitch kilt him! he demanded then tossed off the whiskey. "I need ta know but I got no time, need ta be on the trail outta here." The Marshal, he needed to saddle up and vamos out of there before the law caught up with him.
But first, "'nuther un!" He ordered. "Bastard'll pay, save yer sorries fer him that done it!" He dropped a coin on the bar, tossed off his drink, and turned to leave...
Well Caleb certainly hadn't expected that bad news and took it poorly, no surprise to the saloon employees. As for his demand to know who shot his friend, Ralph simply shrugged in that calm demeanor of his.
"You wanna know the details, check with the Marshal. He's the law around here."
Caroline was not about to tell the man her new boss had done the shooting, well him and that old man. Fortner was her employer now and she was a loyal employee. Saloon folk stuck together was her creed.
And with a second quick drink, the flustered and angry cowpoke turned and left the saloon. Good riddance. Caroline figured she better warn Fortner about this jasper though. Just in case he came back if he did find out who had shot Grimes.
Man sure was in a hurry.....Caroline shrugged and went back to mingling with happier more contented customers.
"The law is the law."
"Mining's not everyone's choice of hobbies, it just happens to be mine."
Caleb Barnes stood on the boardwalk looking at the Municiple Building a long moment then scanned the street , spotted a hosed at the next hitch rail and ran, spurs jingling, toward it with the intent of a fresh mount to make an escape. Frank dead? 'Stupid bastard!' He was never fast with a gun, and every time he got drunk he went out of his way to prove he was more than he could ever be.
He reached the horse, pulled the reins loose from the hitch rail grabbed the horn and and swung up onto the seat starting to turn the animal into the street when he looked directly in the eyes of Marshal Speed Guyer.
"Get yer hands up Barnes, or I'll empty that saddle!" Guyer barked.
Caleb froze. He though himself fast, well, faster than Frank had ever been, but he was staring down the barrel of Guyer's Colt, no man was that fast, not with his hand so far from his own gun.
Guyer was walking his horse closer to Caleb. "You keep them hands on the 'nubbin' and you just might live long enough to hang. Make a wrong move and I'll kill you." Of that, Speed was certain. The man had tried to kill at least one of the men he had stolen from, stolen three horses, all hanging offenses, so the choice was his, what he did next would be the proof in the pudding for Caleb Barnes.
His hand flashed to his holster and the butt of his own Colt as the muzzle flash blossomed from Guyers pistol, the lead plumb ahead of the brilliant flash slamming into Caleb's shoulder, shattering the bone at the joint as Caleb toppled backwards out of the saddle, landing on the hard packed street.
Guyer sprang from the saddle, prepared to fire again, but Caleb was done, sprawled in the dust and bleeding from his wound.
The funeral business is dying, I tell ye, dying on its feet!
The sounds of gunfire sent any standers-by fleeing, but the silence that reigned afterward brought them curiously back again. The Saloon, the General Store, all manner of places disgorged a number of spectators. The one who was most curious, and with good reason, was Mr. Jolly, who rushed to the scene of the action with his tape measure fluttering in the breeze like some sort of celebratory bunting.
"Och Mr. Guyer, ye've done it again and a fair wee job ye've made of it too!" he cooed, looking down delightedly at the freshly dead slab of meat that had seconds ago been a living breathing human being, if a despicable one. "Much more o' this and it's expanding ma premises I'll have to be aboot."
However, as he looked more carefully, despite all the blood, it seemed that Caleb Barnes might still be alive and just horribly wounded.