Realistic or Modern Threads of the Western Plains

[CeruleanStars]

Howi was no stranger to the west. He actually preferred it out there compared to the big city; it reminded him a bit of home, back when he was a young kid and barely able to comprehend the world outside of his small community. Nowadays, he sometimes questions if he can even call that place "home" considering how long he's been away from it now. He'd been living hundreds of miles away from it for so much of his life, following in his...parents' life because, well, they knew how business worked. He was lucky enough to remain in constant contact with his older sibling and some others from his community, much of them also nomads due to some tragic events that have happened since his family left the area, but he was lucky enough to find a community once he left the bigger cities.

The bigger cities were great for business, sure, but with the speed of infrastructure around him, something never sat right with him. There wasn't a time or place for that when business took priority though, and so, that's what he did. His parents were grateful enough to provide him with anything he needed to be a successful tailor wherever they went; they had connections in every city they lived in regardless of how long the family stayed. Howi was a name known by trade as he grew older. Need a suit repaired? Howi. Need accents adorned on your dress? Howi. Need intricate beading on a wedding dress? Howi. Many were opposed to receiving work from him initially and it took a lot of effort from his family to encourage some to actually have him attempt to repair their clothing, but once they saw how incredible his work was and how quickly he was able to produce results, it didn't take long for people to arrive to the family shop from word-of-mouth.

As he grew older and his connection to his home community and sibling grew stronger, he knew he had to make a move out of the city. This isn't where he belonged and, based on his experience moving city to city, he knew he'd be able to find business wherever he went, even if it was outside a major trade town or anything similar. While cities were cropping up like flies on spoiled meat, he wanted something much more rustic, something that could at least give him the semblance of what he longed for; privacy.

It was hard finding ads for anything out in the middle of nowhere, he had even convinced his parents to help him look for empty buildings or shops that'd been run out of business for any chance of opening his own tailor shop. It took a lot of effort, a lot of hiding his longer hair under business hats, changing his clothes adorned with colors to bland black-and-white suits, and long conversations hiding the small accent he had from his native language, but eventually he found a place. Some shop that was ten years run down out in the dusty west, a town inhabited by drunkards, cowboys, and traveling folk passing through to their next destination. Surely with the travelers coming through, there'd be enough business there to sustain him, especially with all the people moving westward to steal land away from those who already lived there. Thankfully, he got the place at quite a good steal (not that he needed to save money, as his parents had bought it for him as an early birthday present).

Thus began his adventure out to the transit town. From the city he left, it took him about a week to get there with his horse and small wagon filled with his own crafting materials as well as things his parents had bought for him before he left. It felt good to look on the horizon and see a whole lot of nothing; only he and mother nature occupying the space between the earth and sky. It was so blissful. It brought a smile to his face.

Trade was few and far between on his path, but he managed to befriend some plains folks who gave him beadwork, colored stones, and similar objects of fancy for shells, metals, and other small things he didn't need. Howi was excited to use the traded materials in his own personal projects he did on the side when business was on the slower side (which was not too often, but it was something to do and display to reach a wider audience, so his parents had told him).

When he finally arrived, he observed the town as best he could on his way to the address he had been given. Wooden structures, dusty porches, barely a human in sight aside from the drunkard passed out in the small space between the bar and the next business over. It wasn't as...bustling as he was expecting, but he did want something small and out of the city, so he really had no room to complain. This is what he wanted and he would graciously make due with that. As he arrived to the address, he pulled up to an abandoned business front that didn't seem to have been taken care of in a while. The porch was filled with piles of dirt from the dust blowing around, the door had seen better days, and the windows had a thin layer of caked dust on them.

Howi hopped off his horse and, with key in hand, opened the door to the new establishment that he was to soon, call his own. Inside, it seemed to be a lot neater than the exterior, but there was still cleaning that needed to be done. He was warned of how easily storefronts dirtied out here in the middle of nowhere, but that was fine with him; he would just put in twice the effort into cleaning his shop. The upstairs wasn't so bad either for living. It was definitely large enough for him to have a sleeping area and cooking area, which was nice. He was excited to cook his first meal with proper ingredients instead of the on-the-road rations he'd prepared for the long journey. As he came back downstairs, he set the key on one of the dusty countertops on the main floor, then headed back outside to start unloading his cart and giving his horse a break. He didn't see a stable anywhere on his way in, but it was probably just as likely that he missed it on the way in.

He gave his reliable steed a scratch on the nose, then began to release her from the binds of the wagon. With one side releasing the small, wooden structure, he set the brakes of the wagon on the same side before moving around to the other. Before he could even make it to the other side though, his horse jumped and rose on her hind legs with a desperate neigh that echoed through the streets and businesses. The sudden startle made Howi run to the other side in hopes of calming her down from whatever seemed to spook her, but before he could make it, she was off galloping away with his wagon in toe. One of the wheels from the rogue cart knocked him to the ground before he could even so much as think to grab on and, soon, the contents of his wagon started splitting across the street as the wagon pitched and yawed back and forth, at the mercy of the spooked horse now.

What a way to enter the town. Howi pushed himself up from the ground and dusted off his clothes once standing, watching his horse run this way and that before turning a corner out of his sight. He looked over everything that had been thrown in the street; fabrics, beads, some spools of threads, all items of his trade. While they were important to him, his horse was a living being. Items can be replaced, companions cannot. With a sigh, he started running in the direction his horse disappeared to.

 

[leafyx8]

In Finley, there was a limited number of things to see and do. It was hardly an attractive town. The small amount of occupants that surrounded the town and the outer ranch houses closest to it were minimal, but the inter-workings of the town were functional. The church doubled as a school for the small amount of children that attended, sat at the edge of the west town, a single wooden building with pews that lined the inside. The dusty main road of the town supported a grocer, a mailing office, a saloon, a clinic, even a shabby sheriff office. Most folks passed through the town without much of an impression, headed towards somewhere far more civil, chalking up the town to nothing but a spot on the map. To those that grew up in Finley, it was enough.

Adaline would say her favorite thing about Finley was the quiet. Life was simple. Predictable, save for the few amounts of rouge trouble that would pass through town, or serious dry and hot spells that made maintaining the small garden she kept up with difficult. If she was asked again, with the truth pried from her, she’d admit that not only was it simple, it was rather uninspired.

Her days looked one of the same- even that fateful day, she’d wake in the morning when the Mason’s ancient rooster croaked the worst tune, unwilling to allow for sleep past the early morning. He was barely useful for much of anything else, but Ada had a soft spot for the blank stare he sported, her heart strings tugged enough to get her out of bed each day to tend to him and the hens. Her father was usually up by the time she came back in- if he hadn’t slept at the clinic. He had a habit of long working hours- or drinking from the not so secret flask under his desk. Given he was the only medical professional in miles, he was allowed to have some vices.

The Mason’s house sat just south on the edge of town, a quaint wooden cabin home with a bricked chimney. When Ada was little, her brothers and her all shared a room at the top floor. Happy memories lived on of the three giggling past dark, telling ghost stories until Ada would get too terrified by their imaginations. Other memories were less pleasant, like watching their father stumble in home late at night from the top of the stairs, exhaustion and liquor clouding him and coaxing him to sleep in the chair of the lounge room before even making it to bed.

The loss of Clara Mason was hard on the doctor. With three children to watch over, a town that hardly paid what he needed to manage the clinic, let alone a family, and the constant memories of his late wife’s presence all over the cabin she had made a home, he fell into back into a shadow of himself for a large part of Ada’s childhood. Still, Ada would say she had a fine childhood. She was educated, she had a home, and her family, while damaged, was still there. Once her brother’s had up and left for opportunity outside of Finely, Ada remained, for a number of reasons. Her father was one- while time had mended some of the heartbreak, he was still greying with each year. If Ada left, she was sure his health would decline from not eating proper meals or getting rest outside of his office. The other factor was that, while incredibly curious, the unknown kept Ada where she was. What opportunity would she have if she left? While she wouldn’t ever know for sure unless she went and looked, she had grown to believe that her place in Finley. If she wasn’t here, helping her father, serving drinks to the town, capturing what the fields looked like on charcoal and paper, then who would?

-

“If you break your neck up there, I know a good doctor.” Adaline’s voice rang out to her father once she entered the town clinic that afternoon, the little bell atop the door chiming her entry. Her father, hardly a spring chicken, was stood atop a chair, reaching for a book that sat at the tallest shelf of a bookshelf. The clinic was small, his office and desk took up the main entry, with bookshelves lining the walls that went up to the ceiling. There was an examination room deeper into the building, and a closet he kept supplies within.

Doctor Mason gave a wry smile over his shoulder to Adaline, his hand making purchase with the book he seemed desperate for. “Good and the only one ‘round aren’t the same thing.” He pointed out as his steps were careful coming down to the ground, though Ada hovered in case he slipped.

“Good enough, then-“ Ada agreed with a teasing smile, before setting a small tin wrapped in a handkerchief on his desk. “Brought you lunch. The girls were feeling generous today. Eggs gone cold on the way, though.”

The unspoken concern of the doc sleeping at the clinic, missing meals, was all obvious, though it was a song and dance they’d gone around enough. Adaline got her stubbornness from, him, surely. Her father hummed in appreciation, settling into his desk chair, a creak from the wood accepting new weight filling the air. “Smells good, thank ya’, Ada.” He smiled to his daughter, wrinkles crinkled next to his eyes that had grown more pronounced with age. He gave a side long glance to a stack of letters and a parcel on the edge of his desk, a sigh escaping him that was far too dramatic to be taken seriously. “I gotta make it all across town to drop some mail off though, shame I won’t get to enjoy-“

Adaline rolled her eyes at his antics, already scooping up the letters and box in her arms. “Alright, alright- you’re not as good of an act as you think.” Her father’s ‘thanks’ was drowned out by the little bell that rang open Ada’s departure, the redhead set out onto the dusty road. She was glad to see her father in good spirits- but such as grief, some days were easier than others.

She had just left the post office just at the end of the line buildings, when she got caught in conversation with Mrs. Stent, a woman a bit older than Ada, but one of the few closest to her age around the town. Apparently her children- one of the two- had been having coughing fits, something that kept Ada’s father working late into the night, trying to find a new remedy. Ada glanced to the road- one the Stent children had spilled some blocks from his pocket and was scrambling to pick them all up.

It was during their conversation that she heard a horse neigh and a holler. Not uncommon, but strange to have such a commotion on what was otherwise a very lazy day. She turned, her eyes widening at the sight of a horse at the other end of the road, determined in its run as it kicked up dust, carting around a wagon that was precariously hitched to it. The poor thing was probably scarred off by something- or was tired of lugging whatever it had attached to itself. Everything happening very quickly. Without much thought, Ada hurried out to the road, stepping between the child and oncoming horse in hopes of stopping the collision. Thankfully, the horse had lost moment and with the new roadblock, came to a prompt halt just before barreling over Ada and the child. When the horse skidded to a stop from the new obstacle, its front legs kicked up in protest, Ada took the chance to nudge the child to Mrs. Stent, their cries echoing off.

“Easy girl, hey, hey-“ she held her hands up to the horse, her soft tone hardly audible over its heavy breathing. She was able to take hold of the leather tacked to it, holding its head as it calmed down. She scratched its nose, looking behind the creature to see the wagon- barely hanging on, still attached. She could only assume some traveller was blowing through town, and her suspicions were warranted when she caught sight of someone unfamiliar rounding the corner from where the horse had come, waving and calling after it.

She looked the stranger up and down- definitely didn’t seem like he was around here, and while she knew logically he probably didn’t mean for all the trouble, the adrenaline was still settling in her, spiking some annoyance at the thought of the child getting hurt. “You need help getting a handle on ‘em?” The sarcastic and rehrotic report came. “Almost plowed us over. You need to keep a better eye on her while in town- could have gotten someone hurt acting like that.”

 

[CeruleanStars]

The pinto, with eyes a blazing gold, at first tried to move her head away from the stranger once she was caught, but as she continued to settle her down, the horse stopped resisting and let it happen. The cart it trailed definitely needed repairs after the charge; one wheel had a number of destroyed spokes since the brakes were on, one of the arms connecting the horse to the wagon was broken and hanging on by thin hairs of wood, the back wall of the wagon was broken in half by, what seemed to be, a heavier chest that had sprung open, spilling fabric in its wake, there looked to be a dent in the front of the wagon where the horse could've possibly bucked into it. The straps were loose connecting the horse on one side, as if her owner were either only half committed to saddling her up to the cart or was in the process of taking her off. The horse herself had a couple braids in her long, golden mane and tail, one of them accented with a feather. The horse was clearly cared for, but had probably just spooked suddenly.

And the question of "what happened" would soon be answered as Howi rounded the corner. When he saw his horse had stopped and someone had grabbed her, he took a pause in his sprinting to catch his breath as he put his hands on his knees. He didn't think he was that out of shape, but he was just going to blame that on the lack of sleep he got last night after traveling far into the night just to get here.

Once enough breath returned to him, he stood straight and started walking over to the person who had thankfully grabbed his horse. It didn't take a genius to know she was upset with him, but he was used to not being liked whenever he went somewhere new. This was just life for him. "I'm sorry," he responded once he was close enough for her to start the conversation. "I was unhooking her from the wagon. One of the loose straps must've spooked her."

His outfit was simple, yet relatively uncommon for the area; a light tan, flat brimmed hat with bead work around its base, a simple, white shirt, dark brown pants, a pair of simple boots, and a necklace made of patterned bead work to match his hat. He wasn't entirely dressed to the nines, but just from the amount of dust on his boots and the bottom of his pants, he'd just blown in from out of town not too long ago.

Howi placed a hand on the horse's nose to further soothe her, the horse leaning into his hand and moving slightly closer to him. It was easy to see they had a close connection. "She didn't hurt you, did she?" he asked as he looked to the stranger, wanting to make sure the only damage done was to his own belongings and no one else. As he paid attention to her response, he moved to try and set the wagon back up to his horse despite the broken pieces. While he was glad some of his things remained in the wagon, he knew there was really no other way to get them back to his shop besides this cart, however broken it may be. The broken arm of the cart and the broken wheel would be an issue, so maybe Howi could just carry what he could of the arm and go slow back to his shop... He wasn't expecting to spend so much so soon before he even managed to set up shop here.