Oregonal Sin

When Adelaide hadn't been pitching in around town, she'd be sending out almost-daily bulletins (in addition to the weekly paper) filled with information about how the town recovery was going. She'd started a barter column for the residents -- people could put a snippet in about things they needed and what they had that they were willing to trade in return. She was also, sadly, running a lot of death notices.

She'd just finished inking the next edition when she heard her bell door door jangle as someone pushed it open. She wiped her hands on her already stained apron and came out to greet her visitor. Cutter had done the initial welcome; his tail was wagging as he stood just a few feet from the door.

"Cutter, let them in!" Adelaide said firmly. The dog looked at her, woofed softly, but then padded away and flopped down behind her desk. "Sorry about that," she said.

Aiden was still finding mud and debris in corners of his shop. He'd been able to salvage more than a lot of the shopkeepers, purely because a good portion of his goods were made of metal. But there was still a lot to make up for. He was trying to keep his prices low, to give the townspeople a chance to get back on their feet, but he was really just scraping enough to get by.  Same as most.

Still he had a lot to be thankful for. He still had the roof over his head, and a lot of his personal possessions had been in his rooms above the shop. He also had his life, which a lot of poor unfortunates didn't, although he was finding he had an ongoing hacking cough that just wouldn't shift since the flood.

He was outside on a day that looked slightly better than it had mostly been since then. Tacks in his mouth, apron on and hammer in hand, he was busy replacing some timbers and signage on the front shelter of his building that had rotted away with the waters. It felt good to be fixing things again, physical work when the end was in sight did his heart good. 

Someone caught his eye at the edge of his sight, and he instinctively turned to greet them, if only with a smile around the tacks and a nod.

Liz presented herself nervously at the marshall's office. She didn't normally come here -- although she never turned away a chance to talk to Marshall Kane -- it was different when it could become official business.

She gave him a small smile when he came in to the room. "Good day, marshall."

Note - please please make sure you've read all threads and checked on character locations and what you can find out from the 'crowd' before posting a thread or tag, so we can keep everyone in one place at one time without cloning! Thank you! Ryan and Beth have now gone from the scene but please feel free to keep on playing threads set before then or reactions after.

It had been a bad idea. Beth had known it was a bad idea, felt it, but the preacher had been so insistent and Gemma had just shrugged and said it wasn't her business what the girls did with their time off and Ryan had said he'd go with her, so Beth had gone to the church pot luck. And it had been a bad idea.

( And now )

A clear, crisp morning, with the tang of autumn on the air. Seemed the town would quiet some, with the worse weather moving in, but it hadn't happened yet. Still plenty of folk around as Chris crossed the square towards the store, lifting his hat in greeting to a face he recognized. "A fine morning."

His opponents had been just as new in town as he'd been, and probably a lot newer to cards. Nice little sum of money he'd just come into, and the game hadn't even been that stimulating.

They grumbled at their loss as he left the table, headed for the bar, and sat himself down on a stool by the counter.

"Shot of whiskey," he called out to the bartender, eyeing the person next to him. "Make that two."

He was in the mood for some company, no matter what kind.

Long day. Good day. Chris had a fondness for long days. Meant everything was quiet and peaceable about town, and he wasn't filling every damn hour with keeping a peace that should be able to keep itself. Long day meant he didn't have too many qualms on hanging his hat up at the office and swinging by the saloon for a drink to shake off the dust of that long day.

He took a free spot at the bar, one boot resting on the rung of a stool looked like to be clear for sitting sometime real soon, and waited to catch the eye of someone able to quench his thirst. "Seems real busy tonight," he remarked to the person next to him. "Must be why there ain't nobody out makin' trouble."

Fine clear afternoon. Late summer, early autumn, well clear of noon, the town square was busy with folk running errands, going about their business, meeting up...whatever it was they felt the need to do on a sunny weekday afternoon.