Chapter 1: New Prospects

Post by **Vardaen** » Tue Oct 02, 2018 8:47 pm

The Civil War is over, expansion into the Dakota Territories has begun. Lieutenant Colonel George Armstong Custer has lead an expedition into the Black Hills, sacred to the Souix Indians. There he has declared gold has been found. The Gold Rush into the Black Hills started only shortly afterwards and now the Souix are a little more than antagonized by the arrival of so many white men after having been promised protection of their sacred lands through treaties with the US government.

Towns have sprouted up here and there all over the place, Pawheton one such town, situated on Sulfur Creek about 40 miles northeast of Deadwood. The town is only a few months old, but already it is growing rapidly and people arrive each day laying claims along the river, in the hills, or any place they can. People not only arrive from the east, but from the south as well, Kansas and Texas have been devastated by locus and its people seek a better life elsewhere in the great wild lands of the Dakotas.

The west is wild still, lawless and dangerous, for those meek or timid. For those with the gumption to take it a new life awaits, those with grit enough will survive, and those with the moxy to strike it rich are promised a fortune one way or another.

Post by **Vardaen** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 6:30 pm

Pawheton is a rough and tumble town, numbering just over 800 people give or take. Founded after the news of gold in the hills came back east. Just a few months ago it wasn't more than a gathering of tents in the rain. Now it building, proper buildings, have been going up. A hotel and land and assay office was just built. More prospectors and businesses appear ever week, and most of their hold and scrip ends up in the hands of the two more powerful men in town -- Stratton and Pennebaker.

The bloom of spring not only means plants and animals are growing, but the town as well. Expressmen from Wells Fargo carry letters and packages to and from the town, down to Deadwood or Sturgis, or out into the claims on the edge of town. Once such claim is a small little site owned by Jimmy McCormick. His claim is about 15 miles up Muskrat Creek. Its a small plot along the river far enough from town to be secluded, but not impossible for him to make it to town every week or so to bring in what he has. So far the claim hasn't been paying out much, a few flakes here and there, but nothing like a Strike yet.

May is wet, the streams are full, and the snow melt from the Grantine and Brick Peak mean there is plenty of run off. That hasn't helped things. Jimmy sits on a rock looking over his camp...

Hungry Xenomorph · Post by **Hungry Xenomorph** » Wed Oct 03, 2018 8:41 pm

Cursing his bad luck Jimmy glances over at one of his whiskey bottles, thinking I better not Jimmy closes his eyes for a moment and rubs his hands over them, it feels like he has been in Muskrat Creek for years, but it has only been a short, frustrating, time. Needing to get his head back on straight Jimmy stands up and walks over to the river bank, lowering himself with an audible crack emanating from his stiff knees, he dips his hands into the cold water and splashes his dust covered face, the jolt from the cold water waking him a bit and focusing his mind again. He looks over the camp and the cursed plot of land, things needed to be straightened out and he needed to make the 15 mile trip back to town to get supplies, "better get to it" he says to the vast emptiness around him, getting back up he spits onto the ground, in a sort of symbolic act of rebellion against this plot of land that has cost him so much. Jimmy does a quick "once over" of his provisions before making a list and closing shop. He takes the donkey's reins and sets off walking with the beast following him. At first the 15 mile trip back to Muskrat Creek felt like a never ending journey through some hellishly empty landscape, something that often grated his nerves a bit having been used to living in Chicago where you couldn't go 10 steps without seeing someone. Some 3 hours later he arrives in town and goes directly into the general store, he ties the donkey to the hitching post outside and goes into the store, tipping his hat to the store owner as he walks through the door. Jimmy goes through the store looking for what he needs, some cured beef, spuds, some beans, and maybe even some rice, noting the availability of the supplies he needs, he approaches the counter, "Good day, i'm going to need some supplies, 3 pounds of cured beef, 2 pounds of spuds, same quantity of beans and 3 of rice, also have you gotten any more whiskey?" Amicably Jimmy awaits the shopkeep's response.

Post by **Vardaen** » Fri Oct 05, 2018 5:59 pm

Jimmy up and leaves the claim, its supply day, and so he hitches up the donkey and starts into town. Its 15 miles as the crow flies, but the swollen winding of the Muskrat Creek, the difficult rocky terrain, the need to ford the river not once but twice, and the stubbornness of the donkey means what could be a short trip takes hours and hours to travel. Jimmy also chooses to avoid the dozens of other gold claims along the river south of his plot of land, taking the long way around. All those years in Chicago with people every place has given him an appreciation for open space. So what should be a few hour tip takes him nearly all day.

He comes toward town from the north, and the sight of Pawehton is nothing to ignore. Its a town of tents and shacks, of new buildings and of mud. Locals walks among the muddy streets, new arrivals disembark from a stage coach, and small boats bob up and down on the Paweheton Creek, a confluence of the Pawheton River and Muskrat Creek. There is loud music from the Shallow Water Saloon, the first real building that Jimmy passes on his way in along with Becker's Place a tent saloon. It takes some effort for him to pass them by and head for the near by general store. Whiskey Garden, another saloon sits across the water from The Pawheton Trader.

The Trader is the original trading post built by Stratton when he settled in the area, the Trader is a long, low-ceilinged log cabin stuffed with merchandise—everything from a large selection of clothing to guns and ammunition, traps, tools, whiskey, and foodstuffs (flour, coffee, jerked beef, deer, pork, sugar, and canned goods). Stratton’s old friend, Mordecai Albertson, runs the place, and is willing to special order un-stocked items at a hefty markup.

Mordecai helps Jimmy gather up the goods, "I have one bottle of whiskey left, Wells Fargo is due in any moment with another shipment. So if you want the last bottle it's your Mr. McCormick, let me tally up the total."

Hungry Xenomorph · Post by **Hungry Xenomorph** » Fri Oct 05, 2018 6:33 pm

"I'll gladly take the last bottle, guess i got real lucky today, how have things been in town? Any news worthy events happen lately?" Jimmy gives the shelves one more look making sure he has everything he needs before taking some money out of his wallet to pay for the goods.

Post by **Vardaen** » Fri Oct 05, 2018 6:45 pm

The shop keep piles up some of the good, "That's going to be 4 dollars and 10 cents..." He looks at Jimmy, as he writes up the total on a small pad of paper with a coal pen. "News? Well the Wells Fargo coach is two days late, but is coming in today. Other than that I think the big news is that Black Bart is safe in jail finally, 'cept for the men folk I hear are gettin' all liquored up and fixin' to hang him for what he done."

Hungry Xenomorph · Post by **Hungry Xenomorph** » Tue Oct 09, 2018 4:48 pm

"Uhm, so the sheriff finally managed to get Black Bart he must be very pleased!" Jimmy grabs his thing and and thanks the clerk with a tip of his had, once outside he packs his provisions on the mule's bags and unhitches the animal, Before leaving the town Jimmy decides to stop by the Shallow Water Saloon and get himself a drink for the road.

Post by **Vardaen** » Tue Oct 09, 2018 4:50 pm

As Jimmy steps outside a rider on horseback comes thundering into town. The man is clearly a member of the pony express, or perhaps Wells Fargo. He's a express rider, that much is clear and he gallops into town from the north on a panting horse and comes to a stop just before Jimmy.

JohnnyWeird · Post by **JohnnyWeird** » Wed Oct 10, 2018 1:48 am

"And I hated Esau, and laid his mountains and heritage to waste for the dragons of the wilderness" - Malachi, 1:2

A man in Deadwood once told Penn Fisher that he rode like hellfire was coming for him. Penn had laughed. He wasn't afraid of many things, and hellfire certainly wasn't one of them.

He reins in Gunpowder outside of the Trader, leaping out of the saddle and tying him off. An idle eye wanders to the Shallow Water; maybe Jade will be dancing tonight. Taking his pack, he wanders into the store.

The young expressman would be scrawny if he had less muscle, or lanky if he weren't so short. He smiles at the folks inside, not handsome, but friendly.

"Hey there, folks, I've got some packages to deliver, and I'd be mightily grateful if you might point me in the right direction of their recipients."

Hungry Xenomorph · Post by **Hungry Xenomorph** » Wed Oct 10, 2018 4:05 pm

Jimmy gives the fast riding man a side ways glance as he continues on towards the store. The famous Pony Express riders. He thinks to himself as he quietly finishes tying the mule's reigns to the hitching post and walking into the raucous saloon. There he walks to the bar and takes a seat on one to the empty stools, once the barkeep acknowledges him he places his order. "Shot of Bourbon, neat," with his drink in hand he turns around and takes in the atmosphere of the bar.

Login • Register