#silverf0xes

The crumpled telegram in Samuel’s hand is torn and water stained and while he can still make out his prospective employer’s name, the designated station is more difficult to decipher and so is retained merely as memory. The date thankfully remains intact but the time of Mr Daniel Adams arrival is lost entirely – that is why Samuel has been sitting at the train station for what now seems like most of the day, kicking at the sun bleached wooden boards and coughing up dust as every new train pulls in, before racing away again.

He knows Adams likely travelled from England by boat and is quite aware the destination port will have determined his time of arrival, but without a port name, he can do nothing more than sit at the station, smoke and wait.

Admittedly his Mustang, Diego, seems to have taken quite well to the horse he purchased with money wired to him by Mr Adams; a partially dappled Appaloosa of good breeding stock, one the man is quite welcome to trade, should it not suit his particular tastes, which he has led to believe are fairly refined. Having achieved a good deal on the mare, Samuel had admittedly spent the remainder of the money on a comfortable bed for the night and a decent bottle of whiskey, whiskey that is now responsible for his heavy head and dry mouth. Had he known the man wouldn’t show until past noon, he might have at least had time for a shave. Not that he’s looking to impress, mind, but he’s well aware that he looks like a man who slept rough out on the trail last night and not in a fancy guesthouse bed.

Running a comb through his hair, he tries to slick some of it down, but his mouth is so dry that a lick to his hand achieves nothing of note. In truth Sam still remains unaware of most of the details of this man’s visit, including which parts of the Colorado territory he means to explore and most importantly the reasons why. He has accepted the job on good faith, after being assured by a mutual acquaintance that all would be above board. The money is good and as far as Samuel can tell, the work is legal, acting as a guide and paid protection – easy money; it sure beats wrangling outlaws for a living.

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was as curious as they come. So when Marilla asked her to bring a basket of scones to their new neighbor she was ecstatic.

“Oh, Marilla! How exciting! A detective! Do you suppose he’s seen all kinds of exciting and frightening things?”

“I don’t know, but if you keep asking me questions meant for him that basket will get cold!”

"I didn't know you were married."

hazy  memories  of  when  he  called  the  land  his  home  .  only  a  child  at  the  time  of  retreat  ,  but  a  taste  for  the  culture  was  still  buried  deep  within  him  ,  and  it  took  only  a  small  drink  to  find  the  faux  city  boy  slowing  his  speech  and  stretching  vowels  in  the  way  only  those  born  in  the  shadow  of  the  smokey  mountains  could  .  it  felt      good      to  be  back  ,  though  perhaps  that  was  because  the  memories  he  had  were  so  faded  .  the  place  meant  something  to  him  ,  but  not  enough  to  hold  painful melancholy                  familiarity  without  being  overly  familiar  .   

a  small  town  was  where  his  family  had  resided  ,  but  before  he  could  settle  back  into  the  arms  of  those  empty  streets  a  few      essentials      were  needed  ,  and  said  essentials  were  most  likely  to  be  found  a  few  towns  over  ,  not  quite  the  city  but  certainly  bigger  than  where  eric  planned  to  root  himself  .

the  road  from  virginia  to  tennessee  hadn’t  done  his  boots  any  favors  ,  and  it  was    that    which  held  eric’s  attention  long  for  the  figure  now  standing  before  him  to  come  as  a  shock  when  he  finally  looked  up  .          a  polite  smile  ,     a  sunny  wave  .         if  need  be  he  wouldn’t  think  twice  before  allowing  his  gun  to  enter  the  conversation  ,  but  for  now  he  would  play  the      nice  boy  ,      just  like  he  always  did  .

Zora’s imagination is absolutely ..it’s hard to describe. But it is very expansive and really reaches into different worlds, often multiple worlds at once. Their imagine allows them to really explore varying viewpoints and it tends to spiral into very dreamy, space, strange places. It does go into the surreal and sometimes morbid places - especially since they have been known to make contact with entities that most individuals would not want to have access to. It remains a mystery how they actually manage the results of such experiences.

It’s no surprise that Galahad would figure him out so quickly. He’s always been far too good at figuring out all of Daniel’s little tricks and ruses, never letting him get away with much for too long. Perhaps that’s why they’re such a nice pair. Daniel would get bored if he could always pull one over his partner.

The corners of his mouth perk up, he lets a little laugh slip past his lips. Ignore that, though. He’s going to pout.

     “Come now, Galahad. Don’t I deserve a few minutes more rest? Though, perhaps you could provide incentive for me to stir from my slumber.”

“No time for nonsense, darling. Breakfast is getting cold.” He drops a set of clothes on the bed, rising up from eye level with Dan in order to make his way to the doorway. He shoots his husband a playful, but fleeting grin.

❛ Anytime I tried an honest job well the till had a hole and ha-ha We laughed about payin' rent 'cause the county jails they're free. ❜