It all started in October, when a World 3 noob,
Thomas Hawk, scanned the rankings and send an unsolicited telegram to several players with interesting names:
Hiking the trail between Old Hiram's tobacco field and the town of Silver Creek, you pass by a pair of youths returning to the hotel after a long day working in the sun.
You can't help but overhear their discussion. Apparently they're keeping their eye on a few prime parcels of real estate and dreaming about settling down. The younger fella, apparently named Tommy Hawk, says, "Imagine a settlement where all the townsfolk have real names! Someone should slap some sense into the ma 'n pa that named their boys 'MasteR of the GAME' and 'hanlon99'..."
{If you're interested in joining a town where the players took time to come up with a western sounding name... keep in touch}
And so it began…
Catalina James was one of the first to respond, and it wouldn’t be the last time she’d sneak up on Hawk…
"…I didn't mean to startle you. I've the worst habit of overhearing things and then inserting myself into the conversation", she blushes slightly at the fact and toys with one of her two long braids, chewing her bottom lip.
With her head cocked to one side she listens intently, eyes almost aglow with both admiration and hope as Thomas speaks, though a slender eyebrow does raise at his smirk, "My beloved Mam always told me smirking was a sure bet to get yourself jumped, Senior Hawk," there was a slight girlish lilt to her voice as she extended a slender hand.
"James, Catalina James. Most people call me Caity..." her voice trailed off as she munched the corner of her lip...”
Could any red-blooded man resist such a woman? Just what sort of greenhorn was this Thomas Hawk?
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Awkwardly, as if recalling a long forgotten lesson, Hawk lightly holds her extended fingers and bows to kiss the back of her hand.
His thoughts rush, against his will to another time... another life. Quickly releasing her hand and standing, Cait notices the distant look in his eyes, but the moment passes, and the unkempt field hand returns to the present.
"I beg your pardon... earlier I... I mean... I should not have drawn my weapon in haste... forgive me... it seems the local banditos have stolen more than my gold."
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After their first meeting, Cait thought little of the gangly vaquero who begged her forgiveness. True, his mixture of dust and manners was unusual, but she had other things on her mind.
Then one morning, as she strolled past the city hall in Dark Valley, a boy ran out of the telegraph office. "Miss Caity! This telegram came for you yesterday!" Handing her the folded paper, the lad hurried off to deliver his other messages.
Señorita James… a stage comes all the way to Juneau. A day's journey south from Juneau you can find me along the Rio Vaqueros.
Cait folded the paper once, and kept it.
Caity smiled to herself, as she read the telegram. Though she had not wanted to admit it she had thought often of the other greenhorn, it took up the time while she was picking berries or fishing. Heading into the telegraph office she leaned against the counter:
Fantastic news mi Amigo. I shall depart post haste. Cannot wait to see the land. It sounds like paradise.
- Caity
But Cait was not the only senorita that Hawk had befriended in his travels. There was Marta, the wife of Hans. There was their daughter Greta; and there was also the quiet but beautiful
Miss Tiffany…
In a room as small as a janitor's closet she pulled her blanket snugly around her shoulders. These November nights were proving to be very cold. She emptied her bag onto the hard cot, a small smile playing at the corners of her full lips as she remembered how she came across every item. It was quite the assortment: loose cotton, spare shoes, different shirts, a broken clay jug, leather, wool, grain, an empty bottle. She hardly wanted to touch the stones, club or slingshot. The candlelight touched the cold steel of the handcuffs. What would she do with those? She shuddered. Carrying around these items put a burden on her back, but she knew she had to bear it. Surely they would be of some use in the future. She arranged them artfully back into her bag.
As she pulled a pearl handled brush through her long auburn tresses, she glanced at her newspaper. A headline screamed at her from the front page.
"Murder Still Unsolved - Authorities Baffled"
A solitary tear traveled down her cheek. Swiftly, she crumpled the paper and threw it into the fireplace. She didn't want to think about that night. She must not.
After putting her brush away she settled down onto the cot. Using her arm as a pillow she let lay there and let her thoughts wander. Under her head, in the bag, lay her future. She thought of her last telegram from Thomas. She let his name roll off her tongue.
"Thomas."
It was almost impossible to wrap her mind around what she was about to do. Oh, if her Mother could only see her now. None of the Sterlings had ever come this far west. The thought of her traveling even further was incredible. Her Mother would surely admonish her. To throw caution to the wind and travel this far, alone, was a chance that she should not be taking.
Something about him that made her lose all sense of propriety. She found herself eagerly anticipating his next telegram. Gently caressing her locket, she drifted off to sleep...
Then, finally, Hawk succeeded, the frontier town of Rio Vaqueros was born along side a wide river where the cowboys would water their herds…
Tomas stood up, stretched his back and wiped his brow. A few lanky strides took him to the river bank where he dunked his head and shoulders into the cool water. It was the gold nugget from this very stream that had allowed him to trade for tools and supplies in Juneau.
After a refreshing drink, he stood and looked over his handiwork. White string ran from stake to stake, marking off the locations for several buildings: a house, a town hall… he’d already framed the church. His Madre would be proud. Once its roof was on, the sides would go up quickly enough. The first batch of bricks were already dry. The river clay made good adobe. The bank would have strong walls…
He wrapped the axes, saws and hammers in an oiled deer skin, and stored the bundle next to his pile of raw timber. The work had been refreshing… he liked being alone with the wilderness. But father always said, “Más valen dos que uno solo, pues tienen mejor remuneración por su trabajo.” He grinned at the memory. Then frowned. But time salves every wound, and father was right. Everything was ready. Time to get some help.
He walked back to his camp under the big oak. He’d have to take the Pawnee shelter down… the Anglos wouldn’t understand. Then for the long hike back to Juneau. They hade a telegraph office.
A hawk drifted silently over the valley... an auspicious sign.
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Morgan was the first to respond….
Levi received the news of his friend finding the place of his dreams. He wondered if he could muster the money and courage to venture out. The stop he made to earn some pocket change, a simple but hot meal, and a dry hay loft to sleep was wonderful considering the open road. He arose early and packed his meager belongings into his knapsack, scribbled a hastily and poorly written thanks for the work, then stepped out of the barn into the cold morning. Rubbing his arms to gather warmth, he began the long and at times the seemingly never ending open road.
But the ladies were the first to arrive…
The rickity stagecoach pulled into the small town and it's driver was certain that his wheels were the first that had ever touched this virgin land. He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve, slowly stood and stretched. His old bones wouldn't be able to endure many more trips across this uneven territory. As he stepped down from his seat he thought of his rider inside. She was a quiet girl, only speaking if she was spoken to. Yet, when she spoke of this Thomas Hawk and his settlement she perked right up. He loved seeing her this way and was beginning to feel as though he would miss her after he left her in this town.
Tiffany was jerked away by the abrupt stopping of the stagecoach. She heard an exciting buzz in the air and smelled the sweet sawdust. Straightening the hat on her head, she reached for her bag. Holding the telegram from Thomas Hawk out in front of her, she quickly read his directive once more. She was here. Rio Vaqueros.
Her door opened and the kindly driver helped her step down onto the dirt road. The sunlight hit her hair and it nearly glowed like a burning fire. The put the telegram back into the bag, turned and walked into the town...
This is only the TIP of the iceberg. We’ve had a lot of fun and we’ll have more. If you’re looking to contribute more to a town that your build-stats and mouse-clicks then come strike up a conversation with the people of RIO VAQUEROS, you’ll find whole new reasons to play THE WEST.
Crag
[satisfied grin]