More creekbed coming soon

While a heatwave strikes Oregon, the death of a horse thief has set in motion events that will draw Cort further into the affairs in Creekbend. Coming soon...

Minor attempt

A minor attempt at laying out creekbed start to finish to date, since it won't let me archive it seperately, thus far.

despite the heat

Seems like 90 degree days in Oregon keep me indoors and forces me to put pen to paper instead of wandering about town..is that good or bad..another Creekbend bit coming soon..

Day 2 in Creekbend

Back at Brennigan's.

Brennigan came to the end of story, “So Father Michael took her in as a kid. He’s the only ‘family’ she has left in these parts.”

Cort nodded his head once and reached for his change pouch. He managed to scrape out some legal tender to cover the small breakfast. He frowned a bit as he looked over his remaining money.

"Runnin' a bit low?" Brennigan gave the pouch a glance as he spoke. Ned was putting it back into his pocket.

"Seems that way. Might be leavin' sooner than planned. Unless you know where I can make some quick coin?"

Brennigan wiped the bar off where Cort's meal had been. "Best bet is to head further north into town. More people up there than here at the southeast end, I thought I heard from one of my stable boys , Eddie, that he grocer was shorthanded. He might need somebody to do some stocking and unloading. His joints pain him too much for that work anymore."

Cort nodded, "Alright, I'll check it out. Need to stretch my legs anyhow. Later." Cort headed toward the doors.

Brennigan called out to Cort, "Keep wide of that Sheriff, boy."

--

Ned was seated alone at one of the window tables in restaurant across from the Crown Royale hotel. He was facing the street watching people go past for a good half hour. Ned was ready to order his 3rd beer, when Cort came walking up the sidewalk. He was looking for a few moments at the Royale's restaurant, but he didn't give any inclination he could make out Ned seated inside. The Reb's face turned back, watching the road ahead of him.
Ned got up, dropping some money on the table. Leaving his beer behind, Ned mumbled to himself, "Bout dang time, he got antsy."

More to come

As time and anniversary's caught me offguard this month, I didn't have the full entry done on June 30th. Therefore, I present it today, expect more entries -- perhaps smaller to make it easier to read in July.

- Ned's duty-

Deputy Ned Billingham stayed a step behind on the right hand side of his boss. Ned's brown hair was cut short enough to keep it out of his eyes, clean shaven, his white skin hadn't acquired the natural tan from the desert sun. He was 5 ft 8 inches, he'd grown up a as a sheriff's son back in Kansas. His father had died 8 years ago. Ned's mother moved back east to her closest family, but Ned wanted to start fresh. The war dragged him into the fighting in Missouri, by a bad turn of luck.
Now, he followed in his father's steps as a lawman. Cutler was tough, he expected obedience not questions. Over the years, Ned wondered if Cutler's boys had ran from their father to the war, in order to escape him. They wouldn't be the first boys to think war would make them into men, into heroes. Ned did have to give Cutler credit, he was the oldest lawman Ned had ever met, who still walked his town. Still Ned began to wonder how long he would stay a deputy.
Ned noticed Cutler held the Reb's gun tightly in his left hand. The Sheriff didn't return any greetings his way, so Ned stepped into the role as greeter. He waited until they passed a pair of Creekbend's wealthier citizenry who were outside the Crown Royal Restaurant.
"You gave that Reb a line of shit Sheriff,:" Ned's parents raised him to respect his elders, but not wither under their age.
"Don't care about your opinion, Deputy. I can handle him however, I want." Cutler's right eye gave Ned a quick, stabbing glare.
"You know as well as I do, we won't get anyone in his town to hang him. Rickett and Odell had been given the ranchers fits for months." Ned pressed on.
Cutler spun on his right heel, turning to face his Deputy. The Reb's gun poked him in the chest. "You telling me how to do my job, boy?"
"No, sir" Ned backed off a step . His back bumped into the wall in front of the single bank that serviced the town.
"Then shut your mouth, Deputy. Let's get back to the office. Damned Reb's got me on edge for no good reason." Cutler walked across the street and Ned followed a minute later. The Sheriff's office was just north of the center of town, but conveniently placed with the local bank in plian view of their main window.of their office.

Once inside the office, Ned had shut the door and the Sheriff tossed Cort's gun onto the top of a safe that sat against the wall , behind the Sheriff's desk. Cutler looked toward the door that was closed leading to the back wing of the office where three jail cells were cut off from the main room. "Reckon' Odells thirsty by now."
Ned started to head toward the door, but Cutler held out his hand stopping him. "I'll deal with Odell today. Besides, if he didn't pick out that Rickett's dead from all the people's talk today. I want to break his thieving heart."
"Alright, Sheriff. What do you want me to do?" Ned stood, thumbs hooked into his gun belt.
"Follow that Reb while he's in town," Cutler ordered.
Ned held back the question that first protested this useless order. "Alright, I'll catch a bit down at the Royale. Figure that Reb's gonna be eating anyway. He's got to come north up the main road to get anywhere, anyhow."
"That Reb didn't just wander up here Ned, and happen to stumble into a gunfight." Cutler stated, maybe for Ned's benefit , or maybe not.
"How do you know that, Sheriff?"
"Strangers don't just start blasting away in a gunfight , unless they get shot at. People don't go looking for trouble. He knew something had been going on in town, he was prepared."
Ned didn't bother to point out that the Reb had shot Rickett after he'd shot one of the Peter's boys. He'd done it to save a life, but Ned knew the Sheriff refused to see that. At least, today. After all, this Reb had done the one thing Cutler and Ned hadn't been able to do "legally" against Rickett. The Reb had taken care of the man, permanently.
Ned nodded and headed out the door.

Coming soon

Man, June has just flown by. However, another visit to Creekbend will be coming shortly.

Back in Creekbend, Cort meets the Sheriff.

Below is the latest bit to the Creekbend stories....enjoy.

---

 -- Meet the sheriff --

   Dawn, the following day.

         Cort woke up to a knocking at his door. The night before Louisa had shown him to his room on the 2nd floor of the inn, and he'd fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Sitting up, his eyes swept the room slowly getting oriented. The knocking continued.

         Cort rubbed his face with the hands as he uttered, "Yeah?"

         Louisa's voice carried into the room, "Best come down Mr. Anderson. The Sheriff has arrived."

Cort swung his legs around and his feet touched the ground, with a soft thump. "Right."

        Cort made his way over to the small table, chair, and washbin that was across from his bed. Last night's, pants and shirt  hung over the chair. His hat was atop the bedpost at the end of his bed, but he decided to leave it. His gun and the holster he snagged off the left bedpost near the top of the bed. His gun rested in the right holster, and he plucked the chain up and out of his left holster, which revealed a copper colored pocket watch attached to it.

6:18 am. Felt like it.

Cort exited his room and walked around the railed walway that encirlcd the top floor leading to the stairway in the NE corner of Brennigan's. Voices carried , in spurts, from down below. Cort guessed the main room was quieter this early in the morning than late at night. Cort thought he was probably the only traveller staying here overnight.

As Cort made his way down the stairway, an older man's voice caught his ear. The tone wasn't pleasant, it reminded Cort of his school teacher as a kid, lecturing him for making a mistake. 

     "Shouldn't have let that boy sleep here Irish. He could've skipped town as you and your Injun slept."

    Cort's eyes caught sight of two men at the bar, one was the bright eyed face of Brennigan. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee as the man across from him spoke to him. The man  was just over 6 feet tall, his white hat was pushed up from his brow, but gray hair was visible running down his neck and curling slightly at the neck collar of the man's red shirt. A brown vest was over his shoulders and gold colored glint could be picked out on the man's left breast. Two guns were stored in their holsters that circled his waste. Tan pants and boots completed his attire. His skin was tanned by the sun, but lines could be seen on his face, betraying an age, older than his own.

Brennigan lowed his cup after sipping his coffee. "The man doesn't have a reason to run like I told you Sheriff. Bet those Peter's boys might even call him a hero."

Cort saw the sheriff turn blue-gray eyes in his direction. He noticed a third man who was casually seated at the table nearest to the bar and the Sheriff. This man, also turned his head in Cort's direction. The gun and the glint of a badge meant he was a deputy. A morning beer rested near his left hand.

The sheriff turned to face Cort as Cort approached the bar. Cort gave a slght nod to Brennigan as he approached. Brennigan shot Cort a quick smile, but glanced left at the Sheriff as if to remind Cort to watch himself.  The sheriff matched Cort in height, and Cort guessed the sheriff might be in his 50's, now that he could see the lines in his face and the gray in his hair more clearly. The sheriff offered no handshake, but got right into things.

     "Cort Lee Anderson." The Sheriff stood upright, shifting from the lean he'd had going against the bar.

"I'm him, but you can skip the Lee. Cort's just fine." Cort rested his right hand against the bar as he talked, and he let his gaze shift to the deputy who was still seated , but watching everything.

" I'm Sheriff Cutler. You killed a man in my town last night, " The sheriff stated.

Cort nodded, and the fingers on his right hand tapped out the hold marching drumbeats softly on the tabletop of the bar. "From what folks told me, I saved you  some trouble."

The Sheriff shot Brennigan an annoyed look, but returned his gaze to Cort. 

"Most folks don't take killing a man so lightly, " The Sheriff pointed out. 

Cort tried to keep an eye on the deputy and one on the Sheriff ss he replied, "I saw enough killing and did enough killing in the War.  It's never taken lightly, Sheriff."

The Sheriff glanced at Cort's pistol as Cort spoke, and a disgusted smile appeared on his face as he fired a question at Cort, 

"How long are you staying in my town, Johnny Reb?"

Cort noticed the deputy sat up straighter as his boss uttered those branding words. Cort fingers tapped out 'Dixie" as he replied.

"Maybe just a couple days.I got a road weary horse and I could use some  R & R myself." Cort put on his best, casual smile.

The Sheriff gave a displeased harumpf and shortly followed a single whistle. Cort saw the deputy get to his feet and place his right hand near his gun in it's holster. Close, but not pulling out the gun.

Cort raised his left eyebrow, impressed at the training. His attention went back to the Sheriff as the man spoke.

"I'll need to take  your gun while you're in town."

Cort gentle tapping stopped as he asked, "Come again?"

"Guns are not permitted in town limits. You turn it over and I'll keep it in a safe, and when you're ready to leave. You can come by and get it.

Cort leaned to his right, resting his weight against his right arm as it propped him up alongside the bar.

"Didn't seem to stop the lcoals. Both this Rickett's and those Peters' boys were packing iron.

Cutler's eyes flashed anger at the insult, and the deputy slipped his gun halfway up the holster, waiting for a signal. 

"Ned, " Cutler barked.

Cort started to turn fully to his left side, but Ned had already drawn his revolver and was pointing it at Cort's face. Cort shifted a half step back.

"Hand it over, Mr. Anderson." came Cutler's order.

Cort got a quick nod from Brennigan, and Cort noted the deputy's hands didn't shake pointing the gun at his face. Cort began to pull his gun out of his holster. "Alright." Placing the gun on the bar, he slide it over to the Sheriff. "Keep it safe, Sheriff. It was my father's."

Cutler picked up the gun with his left hand and looked it over. Carrying it in his left hand, he moved away from the bar, ready to leave. 

"After I talk to the other witnesses, I'm sure we'll talk again, Mr. Anderson."

The Sheriff walking out , gave a whistle. Deputy Ned, holstered his gun, flashed a smug grin at Cort , and  followed behind his boss.

Cort looked to his right, to see Brennigan's shoulders relax. Brennigan pulled out a cup  from under the bar, and gestured with the pot of coffee in his right hand. "Cup o' Joe?'

After a few sips of the coffee, Cort noticed Louisa come in from the kitchen. "That bastard gone?"

Brennigan gave a nod. "All clear."

Cort gave a quick smile, "What's Cutler's issue?"

Brennigan puts his own cup of coffee on the shelf behind him. He runs his left hand across his chin, "He blames the Rebs for loosing his two sons in the War. He blames the Indians, for being here first."

Louisa snapped as she, straightened the chairs form the where the deputy had sat. "The Nez Perce were here long before his mom spat him out."

Brennigan tried to lighten her mood, "I don't doubt ya darlin', but right now, you're better off laying low."

Brennigan looked at Cort as well, "You best do the same , whlle your here, Cort."