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Fantasy sky out west
- Thread starter cowboypete
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cowboypete
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hold post in case we need it
cowboypete
New Member
Ethan Allen “Coop” Cooper was, as he often was, smoking a cigarette in the front office of their small jailhouse. It wasn’t like there was anyone in either of the jail cells, but he liked to keep regular ‘hours’ here in the center of town rather than on his own property. Well, calling it the center of town was maybe a bit of a stretch - they weren’t the smallest settlement, considering they had a store, a saloon, a tailor, and a post office, but they were hardly a bustling city either. Coop was mostly called upon to escort drunks who’d forgotten how to behave civilly from the bar, so being close at hand for that made his evenings significantly less of a headache. Having people call for him at home was far more stressful, hearing someone riding hard for his property always setting him on edge.
Their town had been called San Isidoro at one point, he’d been told, but as long as Coop had been alive he’d known it as Red Mountain, named (creatively) for the nearby Red Mountain, which was so called for the rich hunks of iron ore that made it actually a rust colored smear along the horizon. It was a pleasant enough place for Coop to have settled, less than three days' ride from his parents with enough travelers passing through to keep his life interesting. Rarely did he see much serious trouble, either - Cooper had a reputation for being both impossible to bribe and impossibly quick on the draw in a way that discouraged excess violence. Sure, he still had to square off with his fair share of bad apples since he'd posted at the town, but Red Mountain had plenty of men and women that would rally to the cause of defending their fellow citizens. Besides that, he knew Miss Helen Gable was a good healer; everyone said she never peddled snake oil or let someone lose a limb to infection when it could be avoided. Overall, it was as peaceful an existence as he could hope for out on the frontier.
This evening, he'd already rolled his cigarettes, cleaned and reloaded his gun, and polished his boots without hearing a peep from another soul. Slow nights rarely bothered him - better than the busy ones - but he felt strangely tightly wound tonight. His mother would have blamed the full moon - Cooper would call it instinct, something a little more informed by experience than just the changing of the tides. Either way, his skin felt itchy, like he couldn't just hold still and enjoy the quiet of a warm summer night. He toed back on his boots, setting his hat on his head, quickly double checking that he still had his badge pinned to his shirt. He hadn’t been sheriff of the town for too long and still felt uneasy about it at times - he’d been a Marshal before he’d been posted there, gone from a boy who was good with guns and horses to a proper lawman, picked up stories and a tattoo or two. Still, there was more to being in charge of keeping law and order in a town than knowing how to shoot and keep his wits about him. Most people found him charming enough, he supposed, or at least fair.
No one paid much attention to him as Cooper bellied up the bar across from his office, flagging down the bartender with a, “Ma’am,” just loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the crowd. He exchanged his coin for two fingers of whiskey, settling in to listen to the town gossip and enjoy his drink. Rarely was it anything especially exciting - mostly the usual rumors that someone had found gold or about a child who had gone out to seek their fortune but had finally written a letter back home.
Their town had been called San Isidoro at one point, he’d been told, but as long as Coop had been alive he’d known it as Red Mountain, named (creatively) for the nearby Red Mountain, which was so called for the rich hunks of iron ore that made it actually a rust colored smear along the horizon. It was a pleasant enough place for Coop to have settled, less than three days' ride from his parents with enough travelers passing through to keep his life interesting. Rarely did he see much serious trouble, either - Cooper had a reputation for being both impossible to bribe and impossibly quick on the draw in a way that discouraged excess violence. Sure, he still had to square off with his fair share of bad apples since he'd posted at the town, but Red Mountain had plenty of men and women that would rally to the cause of defending their fellow citizens. Besides that, he knew Miss Helen Gable was a good healer; everyone said she never peddled snake oil or let someone lose a limb to infection when it could be avoided. Overall, it was as peaceful an existence as he could hope for out on the frontier.
This evening, he'd already rolled his cigarettes, cleaned and reloaded his gun, and polished his boots without hearing a peep from another soul. Slow nights rarely bothered him - better than the busy ones - but he felt strangely tightly wound tonight. His mother would have blamed the full moon - Cooper would call it instinct, something a little more informed by experience than just the changing of the tides. Either way, his skin felt itchy, like he couldn't just hold still and enjoy the quiet of a warm summer night. He toed back on his boots, setting his hat on his head, quickly double checking that he still had his badge pinned to his shirt. He hadn’t been sheriff of the town for too long and still felt uneasy about it at times - he’d been a Marshal before he’d been posted there, gone from a boy who was good with guns and horses to a proper lawman, picked up stories and a tattoo or two. Still, there was more to being in charge of keeping law and order in a town than knowing how to shoot and keep his wits about him. Most people found him charming enough, he supposed, or at least fair.
No one paid much attention to him as Cooper bellied up the bar across from his office, flagging down the bartender with a, “Ma’am,” just loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the crowd. He exchanged his coin for two fingers of whiskey, settling in to listen to the town gossip and enjoy his drink. Rarely was it anything especially exciting - mostly the usual rumors that someone had found gold or about a child who had gone out to seek their fortune but had finally written a letter back home.
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