Foster home

[Michael S. Flannagan]

Michael was proud of his son, Shawn. His boy had a strong spirit. The loss of Rosalyn had changed his son. Most men would cave in, and get drunk at the saloon. No. His son had a strong spirit. The father had the best son in all the world. Shawn was a man of action, hard worker, and has a mind to help others.

Shawn was the perfect son. The man had his heart on the Lord Jesus, he just press on to do what was right. The world could use more of Shawn, but the world was full of angry people. It was sad, how Shawn had lost a woman who seemed to be perfect. The loss of his wife was hard, but again his son was like a mountain. It was hard to move his faith from the heavenly Father.

Shawn learned that money he gave to one of the wrenches at Blackbird Saloon. The female gave the money to the Church. They shared that to Shawn. Shawn was sad, but the Church asked what Shawn wanted to do with the money. He took time to think about it. Being an undertaker, Shawn learned that people leave all sorts of things behind when they die. The most precious ones were the children. So, he decided to use Rosalyn's home to be a Foster home. A passionate gesture too! And it could be use an additional new school too.

Michael smiled as he heard the door open. “Son! How did it go at the town hall?” he asked. The man was smiling ear to ear. It pained him to see his son suffer. The young man had gone through all lot too. But he did not allow his handicap to slow him down. He did not even look for help. God, he was proud of his son.

[Shawn Flanagan]

Shawn's right eye had gain its vision back, but it was a little blurry. The Mayor of Del Fuego had approved that Shawn could open the Foster House because he had the rights to do it. The Mayor had joked that if Shawn keep doing what he was doing, the good people of Del Feugo will want Shawn to become the next Mayor. That did sound good, Shawn had been thinking about that. After all, Shawn had been a man of passion for the people.

“Paw, Mayor is too low for you,” James said. The boy was walking next to his father. It was sad. James wished that God would not take Rosalyn away from them. She was neat. She was like an angel who flew kites all day with him. “Why don't you go be a President? Like LINCON!”

Shawn walked with his son. “Now, where in the world, did you get that wild idea? Me? President.....No. Mayor, yes, but, President of United States and be like Lincoln. That was one big responsibility. Why don't you become the President, my son,” he said.

“Yea. I would like that!” he chirped. “You think, I could still fly kites?”

Shawn was laughing at his son. The boy had a fetish of kites. James had a immense collection of kites. “It will depend on the Congress,” he replied.

“I make it a law, every Sunday, everyone has to go fly a kite!”

“Okay, son, you do that,” Shawn told his son. There was nothing wrong. He wanted his son to used his imagination. Shawn was not going to rob his son.

They approached Rosalyn's property which Shawn had under his name. “Paw, we did it,” he said to his father. “All signed. All to go!”

[Michael S. Flannagan]

Michael was relieved. There was no doubt, but there was always small chance things could go wrong.

“James! Come over here you sport,” Michael said, waving the young boy over. James moved over to Michael. “So, how was school?” he asked.

“It was good. Guess what?” he asked.

“What?” Michael replied, keeping his eyes on his grandson. The child had reminded him Shawn, when he was that age. He was going to grow up be a respectable man. It was good genes. Michael had a lovely wife, Shawn had a dutiful wife, and had James. Yes. They have been bless with goodness.

“I am going to be President of America!” he said. So, he was standing proud, he placed his hands on his the lapels of his jacket. “I am going to make everyone fly kites!”

Michael smiled, ruffled his grandson's hair with his right hand, “I am sure you will, but don't be a surprise if you change your son. Your paw wanted to Castles to be built!”

“Hahaha. Castles like those pictures we saw in back home?” he asked.

“Yep,” Michael said. “Shawn, go on tell, your boy that story,” he ordered.

[Shawn Flanagan]

Shawn moved over to the other chair on the porch, he sat down on it, turned to his son and say, “Yes, I always fantasize on big buildings like castles. I always wanted to be a knight in shining armor. I fancy myself in day dreams. I had dreamed I would joust against the greatest kings of England. BAM! Knock them senseless of their horses,” he leaned back, kicking his feet out, and crossing his ankles.

“Really? Is that the old world?” James asked. He gone to the other open seat. “Why did you not do it? I mean, Grandma said you got to do it. Just do it. It will be done. Did she say that, Grandfather?” he asked.

“Yes, but, son, the armor has no power against the bullet. The armor is out dated. Rusted. Done,” he told his son. The man looked out at the land that was near the Cemetery. Shawn would possible try to make a castle, but he had a son. Why would he do it? Just, because he could, it was that simple. It was a child dream, but he grew up. He was trying to bring up his son up proper. He wanted his son has everything and more what Shawn had.

“So, why did you not build castles?” he asked.

“Son, they too are outdated,” he said. “We are past the stone age look, but, we use stone for tombs. So, I can make small castles the sizes of out houses,” he finished.

“Outhouses,” his son giggled. “Stone out houses?”

“Silly boy, you playing dumb to make me feel dumb, don't do that. What did I tell you? Don't ask dumb questions because you will look like a fool. Ask smart questions,” he told him.

“How do I know smart questions?” He asked.

“Simple. You do not know the answer. That is a smart question,” he said, winking at his son with his good eye.

“Now, go on go look for my mother,” he told his son. “I need to talk to my paw. Okay?”

“Okay,” he said, leaping off the wooden chair. “I will see if she will fly a kite with me!”

After his son had left, “Do tell me, paw, I was not bad as he was?” he asked as he was watching his son run inside the house.

[Michael S. Flannagan]

Michael was all teeth when he was smiling. James was a sensation, young man. Michael estimated that James would be a respected man in two years. “He reminds me, much of you, Shawn,” he told his son. He spit to the side. The man needed to see a dentist for his mouth problem. He knew Doc Holiday was a dentist, but, however, Holiday had a bad fit of consumption. Michael was not going to take a chance, catching the consumption from a drunken, gambler dentist. Sadly, Michael was a Christian, he had no right to judge the man; furthermore, it was not Holiday's fault, that he had a bad disease.

Michael laughed loudly, he sounded like a jackal. Michael clapped Shawn's left knee with right hand. He went on to explain to his son. “Shawn, you were worse as a child,” he joked. “And boys have their dreams and making big toys. I wished you wanted to make Churches,” he said. He leaned back in his wooden chair.

“I am proud of you son,” he added, “But, do you think your taking to much responsibility at once?”

[Shawn Flanagan]

Shawn felt terrific. He was going to bury those words in his heart. Shawn returned the smile to his father. It was like gold, to hear your own father to say, those words. “I follow your steps, paw. It's not easy to follow you, Paw,” Shawn respected his mother and father. It was the two of them who raised him. His parents where tremendously supportive and loving. They where magnificent parents.

Shawn cringed in pain, pulled his hand over on his left eye. The eye patch was still on his eye. “The nerve still acts up,” he said. He reached his hand in his jacket, pulled out a small flask. He unscrewed it the cap, placed the flask to his lips, and he took a large sip.


He pulled the flask away, wiping his chin with the cuff of his jacket. “The paper work was okay. The Mayor had spoken to the Judge about the deed paper of Ender's estate,” he continued, “I just wanted to protect that property from the evil in this town. I did not tell that to the Mayor. There are enough greedy demons here. I wanted to be sure the poor class don't suffer much as they do. It's hard. I want to do the right thing. And do not worry, Pop! I still can go build Churches!” he grinned ear to ear.


“I don't like Duke. I dislike him. The last thing I wanted was he got his hands on that property,” Shawn tossed. “I am sure he's not gonna rob the poor. Duke can rob the rich, but not the poor," he finished, sitting back in his chair.

[Michael S. Flannagan]

Michael hated to his son in pain. There was morphine, but Shawn declined it. He heard stories about Civil War soldiers having serious addiction on morphine. The morphine drove the troops mad because they where addicted to the morphine.. The whiskey was going to numb the pain. Michael was hoping Shawn would not become a drunk because of that eye.

“Duke, yes, I dislike his establishment. Den of thieves,” he added. “You should try to stay away from there. I don't care you are trying to do a respectable by dropping in. Your mother will drive me crazy. She's dead worry about you, son,” he said. “You know how crazy your mother can be when she gets worried. Your her only son. Don't drive her crazy,” he said.

“You need a new wife, son. James needs a mother. You are running from your problems. Be warn, Shawn. It will catch up. You need a partner. Don't you tell me Paul said not everyone man was meant for married? That is true, but not true for you,” he continued, tapping his hand on his lap, “You married once, fell in love again. You are meant to be married. Your mother and I won't be here all your life. We love you. We love James, but, you got to play your cards right. Don't over due it. You kill yourself. Do I make myself clear?” he asked. His own father gave him that same talk when he was young.

The truth the Michael was not afraid to say he loves his son front of his wife, but they keep in behind doors.

[Enid Knox]

Enid Knox stood politely on the door awaiting an answer to her knock. She smiled sweetly at the passers-by who noted the basket of goods she carried hooked on the elbow of her arm. She wished the passers-by good day as they passed too, just for good measure.

She supposed that perhaps it was a little embarrassing to be seen calling charitably on the new foster home but she would live with the fact that others would know her business and good work if it perhaps gave them an honest Christian example to emulate. Of course, it was her duty and compunction to call upon a charitable house such as the foster home and offer her best wishes and prayers for the work of the Lord. She did not present herself solely to be seen and commented upon. No, no. Enid Knox was far too modest and Christian a woman to be conceited and trying to project an image

She then touched the tight bun on her head and fixed again her neck scarf brooch so as to be perfectly poised and presentable to the good folk indoors. She then gave her dress an unconscious wipe down of any possible dust from crossing the streets of Del Fuego.

Waiting for a small moment longer on the doorstep she gave a small cough to clear her throat and took the opportunity to check out the facade of the foster home. Enid noted the curtains and cleaned windows, approvingly, though tutted inwardly at the paintwork thinking it perhaps could have been improved.

But not everything in this world was to her taste she had to concede. Certainly not given the many things in the town that were not to Enid Knox’s refined and dignified tastes. It sometimes did not bear thinking about, the dens of iniquity that flourished in town, from the Cactus to the Blackbird Saloon with their drinking, gambling and ... she shuddered ... the whoring. The mere thought was sometimes enough to discomfit the prim and lady like Enid Knox.

Though to see the establishment of a charitable venture such as the foster home showed Enid Knox that God’s work was wielded in Del Fuego, despite the wickedness of others and it gave her heart courage to think of such a kind act as creating a home for the poor orphaned and abandoned children. Though with that thought Enid could not help but wonder if the foster home might end up beckoning delinquents to Del Fuego - but she pushed such uncharitable thoughts aside - for the present moment’s consideration at least. After all, if she were to speak to the men charged with running this home she might learn better if that were to become the case.

[Michael S. Flannagan]

“We got company,” Michael told his son. The timing was good. The talk they were had was a deep and meaning conversation. It was a dutiful father and son talk. They had plenty. It was not rare, but a common tradition that they had done for years.

“I am hoping the Foster is not taking off,” he told his as he was standing up from his chair.

Michael was a fit man for his age. You see, he had helped his son digging the graves for the deceased. He was wider than Shawn. Shawn was built like his mother. His mother was thin. Michael had broad shoulders. His long legs carried him to the door. He reached for the knob, opened it up to see a woman holding a basket. She looked familiar. Oh, he remembered seeing her in the Church on Sundays. He never got to know her name.

“Welcome to God's children foster home, Misses,” he greeted her with a big welcome smile. His eyes looked at the basket. “Dear heaven...The poor thing,” he said as he was about to take the basket from her. He was thinking the basket had a child inside. "Please come in," he gestured her to enter the house.

The house was excellent shape. Shawn had gone around did some repairs. There was not much. It was a nice home which beloned to Rosalyn's father who was known in the town. The Flannagans are not well known. They are just known as the Undertaker family. It had been two months since they been here in Del Feugo.

(skip Shawn you can post)

[Enid Knox]

(hee, hee, love Michael's thought of the basket having a baby inside - so perhaps the following will add to the comedic misunderstanding.)

---

As the door opened it revealed the man Enid knew to be called Michael Flannagan. In truth, the Flannagan’s were only new to the town and most folk knew little about the family. Enid Knox was of course not most folk and she had some knowledge of them. The young boy had called into the store for candies on an occasion and she had seen Shawn Flannagan the undertaker walking around town in his black clothes and of course had noted the injury he had received and noted his relationship at a time with Rosaline Enders. And of course, she had seen them at Church.

And of course, Enid Knox knew about them on account of keeping her eyes peeled for any happenings in and around Del Fuego. - Out of good natured neighbourly concern of course!

“Welcome to God's children foster home, Misses,” the man welcomed her warmly with a friendly smile. She was pleased by both his welcome and his obvious religious conviction. These seemed to immediately allay any concerns Enid were to have about the foster home.

She began with a subtle inclination of her and started to introduce herself. “Mr Flannagan. A delight to make your acquaintance. I’m Enid Knox the proprietor of the ...” but she never finished as the man looked at the basket wide eyed and interrupted almost reaching for the basket

“Dear heaven...The poor thing,” he said as he was about to take the basket from her. The act making Enid withdrawn it slightly from his grasp as if protective. She was thinking it was usually only good manners to be offered a gift before taking possession of it. Little understanding that Michael Flannagan was thinking the basket had a child inside. "Please come in."

Enid found herself being swept into the house a little perplexed at the man’s reaction to her arrival and the basket in particular. She was beginning to question whether she should even have bothered to come with the goods. Most folk - gossips of course so Enid was not inclined to give them much credence - thought the Flannagans a little strange on account of their being the ‘Undertaker Family’. Enid normally would not have been so judgemental but now she was beginning to wonder if there was not perhaps some truth to the talk. Yes, undertaking served God’s purpose, passing the mortal remains to the eternal, hence with from dust to dust but perhaps it weren’t just right to raise a small child in such environments. Perhaps that made the foster home a bad idea too.

But she never forgot her manners. “Thank you. How very kind. My ... you do have the place looking well.” She smiled sweetly and in her mind shook her head at the choice of curtains and spartan surrounds as she passed through the house, taking a good look over the interior and the state of the place, which was she had to admit in good condition. And rightly so it should be, she thought. The Enders were a well known family and they had always looked after their property. It was strange to think of it now in the possession of this new family.

She indicated the basket still in the crook of her elbow and patted it as she informed Michael Flannagan. “I brought the basket. I simply thought that a foster home would be in desperate need of it. Better here than in my pantry taking up space.” She laughed politely trying to pretend to be gracious and make little of her rather grand gesture of kindness. She continued on not noting Mr Flannagan’s expression as she spoke. “I said to myself, ‘Enid, Enid those good and godly folk need it more than you do.’ After all, you are doing God’s work. So please don’t refuse it. You simply must accept it.”

With that, Enid passed the basket of goodies, some perishables, some jars of preservatives and some candies for the little ones - though normally Enid frowned on sugar for children (though she did appreciate the mark up she could put on them in the store). She was imminently pleased with her goodwill gesture. “Now of course, if you ever need any more - please do call into the general store. I can always get more - at a reasonable price of course," she hastily added the last lest he thought such a charitable act would be a regular thing - she was after all running a business. "Go ahead. Look inside. It won't bite.”

She clasped her hands together and awaited Flannagan’s reaction, even if that was a vanity.

[Michael S. Flannagan]

Yea that was rather funny. Shawn will be replying now. It is October. They been around for 6 months but quiet.
---------------

Del Fuego's locals where observant indeed with their surroundings. The neighbors looked out for each other. When some new comes along. The big town had something to talk about. The word spread like fire. They loved new comers. That gave them something new to talk about. The Flannagans where new, but the locals had started to come up with new stories about them.

James has been attending school with other kids. The young man was active. The children finally had accepted James, but they teased him. The children where afraid of the Flannagan's because the line of work. They where young. It was a natural habit for children to think that.

Michael was glad she mentioned her name, “Miss Knox, please make yourself at home,” he told gesturing his right hand to her. His dark eyes were on the basket. The way she was handling the basket was rather rough. It was a mother protecting her child. Maybe she was getting second doubt giving up her child her child at the Foster care?

The smell pastry was alluring. “Miss Knox, we will take care of everything,” he added as she her eyes were roaming around the house. He was eying how she was handling the basket. Did she cherished her child? She seemed to roughing up the basket.

There was talk about the Enders family was taken up by the Flannagans. People liked to talk. It was something for them to do. They believed they could be pretending to be Christians when they are not. There is all lot good and bad word going around. The big one was that Shawn was cursed. The women seem to die around Shawn. They think he sells them to the devil. Whatever they think, people add or twist the story.

“Miss Knox,” Michael laughing as she showed what was in the basket. “Heavens! I thought you had a child,” he pulled a red hankerchief from his pocket, wiped his forehead. “I am sorry....Sweet Jesus, help me,” he finished.

[Shawn Flanagan]

I eventually get better in my writing. I am focusing quality.

______________

Shawn came out of the sitting room and saw Enid, “Miss Knox, hello,” he said nodding his head to her. He was wearing his black clothes. Death was something people did not like to talk. That could be why people try to stay away from Shawn. It was like when you see a black cat run front of you. Shawn made it a custom to say people's last name. James had told his father that the kids are afraid when an undertaker says your birth name he come and steal you soul. Shawn made a practice to say people's last name.

Shawn had seen Enid many times at her store, but he did keep his visits short at the general store. He had ordered work clothes. He had to stock up. Every time he embalmed a body, he had to dispose his new clothes because the chemicals where deadly poison.

“We do accept your offer, Miss Knox,” Shawn said nodding his head to her. The fact that they did not need help, Shawn had no plans on offending Enid, “Yes, we will speak up when we are in need of help, but, I believe te good Lord has been providing all our needs.”

Shawn was smelling the delicious pastry. It looked delicious. “Do you like some coffee? Or Apple cider?” he offered to her. The man was polite, he had his eye patch on his left eye because he had not the confidence to remove it for the public.

[Enid Knox]

Enid’s hand went to her throat. “A child! A child?” She was flustered for a moment. “No, good heavens no, I .... we ... I mean ...” It was not usual for Enid Knox to find herself without any words. Oh how Amos would have enjoyed this particular moment. “That is to say, well of course it is not a child. Myself and Amos ... well we don’t have any children. So ... never mind.”

She was saved from trying to recover from her fluster by the arrival of the town’s undertaker. “Miss Knox, hello,” he said nodding his head to her. He was wearing his black clothes and Enid suppressed a shudder. Silly superstitious nonsense to be nervous around a man who’s work served God’s purpose in the very end. But still she retreated a few steps despite smiling politely at the man.

“Mr Flannagan, so nice to see you again.” She smiled brightly though too at Shawn Flannagan. He had become quite a regular customer and his purchases tended to be pricey enough so she was careful to always be courteous to him. His custom was of course part of the reason she had come with the basket of goods. She strived to keep good customers sweet. Not that she would admit to such mercenary reasons of course.

Therefore she was delighted when he accepted her gift so happily. “We do accept your offer, Miss Knox,” Shawn said nodding his head to her. The fact that they did not need help, Shawn had no plans on offending Enid and Enid presumed his response was honest gratitude and she believed she had achieved success with part of her purpose. “Yes, we will speak up when we are in need of help, but, I believe te good Lord has been providing all our needs.”

She agreed vehemently. “Indeed he does and are we not all servants of our Lord? So if ever we can be of assistance for any of your purchasing needs please do not hesitate.”

“Oh? A coffee? I ... I hadn't meant to intrude on you. No doubt you are busy getting everything ready. As I always say: Everything in its place and a place for everything.” She beamed happily turning to face Shawn better. In doing so she saw the patch he wore from the injury he had sustained. The sight caused Enid a moment of bother as she tried to look elsewhere and not appear rude. She assumed she had indeed been discrete. She was the very modicum of discretion after all.

Despite not intending to stay and thrown by Shawn’s eye patch Enid was nosey enough - correction interested - in learning more about the foster home and the Flannagan’s that she figured it would not hurt to stay a little while longer. “An apple cider would be so kind but please you need not bother yourselves.”

She took a seat. “So, six months now you've been living in Del Fuego. Imagine. Doesn't the time rush by? It seemed only yesterday that you first arrived in town. And yet so much has happened since.” She tutted and shook her head slowly and sadly as if grieving and sympathising with them.

Enid glanced over other matters and casually just dropped one such incidence in the short time into the conversation. Almost as though she were completely disinterested in the topic when of course she was all ears. “Poor young Mr Flannagan getting injured so. Indians I heard. My. We all have our crosses to bear but so resilient.”

She gave every appearance of sympathy and she was sympathetic to a degree. The savages beyond were heathens who had refused the light of God’s love. To be at the receiving end of such violence of one of that pagan lot was truly horrendous. Again, in an ever so casual tone, Enid slipped into the conversation, “Was it perhaps the young Indian lady that was shot in the Saloon? Hmm.” She feigned innocence as if she could possibly cause any offence with such a casual and innocent question.

[Michael S. Flannagan]

Shawn reply after. Enrid is a great character
------------

Enid’s hand went to her throat. “A child! A child?” She was flustered for a moment. “No, good heavens no, I .... we ... I mean ...” It was not usual for Enid Knox to find herself without any words. Oh how Amos would have enjoyed this particular moment. “That is to say, well of course it is not a child. Myself and Amos ... well we don’t have any children. So ... never mind.”

Michael was embarrass. Dear, what had he got himself in? It was sad that she did not have any children. Children are good to have. They gave you an extra purpose in life. You wanted your own children to be blessed with your own hard works. They are even there to support you when you are old. It was pride and joy to know God had blessed you to create a child. To raise them up. Care for them. Teach them from right and wrong. Watch them grow up to be small spit images of you. It was a blessing. How can anyone not want that?

Michael had to admit he felt remorseful for his son, but it was fun to watch people's reaction when he enters in a room. The job was unique. He was proud of his son for following the career. It was a providential one, and a solid job too. He was pleased his son was a undertaker and not some rail road worker. Building a railway was hard work, dangerous, but it had some rewards. The biggest reward goes to the man who owns the railroad company. Imagine that! To have your name on a rail road tracks across states. That's what you call leaving a legacy.

She agreed vehemently. “Indeed he does and are we not all servants of our Lord? So if ever we can be of assistance for any of your purchasing needs please do not hesitate.” Michael nodded his head, said closed it with an Amen! It was true, the Flannagan's grew up on being servants to the Lord.

Oh? A coffee? I ... I hadn't meant to intrude on you. No doubt you are busy getting everything ready. As I always say: Everything in its place and a place for everything.” She beamed happily turning to face Shawn better. In doing so she saw the patch he wore from the injury he had sustained. The sight caused Enid a moment of bother as she tried to look elsewhere and not appear rude. She assumed she had indeed been discrete. She was the very modicum of discretion after all.

Michael saw it. He observed the discomfort of Enrid looking at the eye patch. Michael was pleased with everyone else that Shawn had not lost both of his eyes. Michael was hoping that she would stay. They don't get many visitors. People just are not friendly in this small city. The sure way to get friendly if you go socialize in the devil's den as the Blackbird's Saloon.

“An apple cider would be so kind but please you need not bother yourselves.” Michael was glad she had decided to stay. “That's good to hear. We really do not get many visitors. The preacher is our number one visitor,” he said smiling to her.

Michael offered her a chair, he was being a gentleman for her. She took the seat. “So, six months now you've been living in Del Fuego. Imagine. Doesn't the time rush by? It seemed only yesterday that you first arrived in town. And yet so much has happened since.” She tutted and shook her head slowly and sadly as if grieving and sympathising with them.

“Miss Knox if feels a week,” he added. “But, these days life goes by in a blink of an eye,” he chuckled to her as he rubbed his hands together. She was a charming lady. She seemed to be a upstanding, decent Christian woman. It was a shame, he could not say that. He had a wife too, but he would not want to mislead her either. Lord knows, it would be frowned down by the Church.

As she was asking questions, Michael took the basket, took it to the dining table, set it in the middle. “That makes a nice center piece,” he said.

[Shawn Flanagan]

Shawn had gone to the smaller room that linked to the dining room. He was in the small kitchen. He could still hear Enrid and his father talking. He got three glasses out of a cupboard, placed the glasses down on the counter. They had a small wood stove, which they had a pot on where the apple cider was on. It was warm. He picked it up, poured the apple cider in the first glass, the second glass and the third glass, he had to stop. The nerve in his left eye was hurting again. He placed the pot down. Held his hand up on his eye. He placed his hand in his jacket, got the flask, opened it up, drank some it. The pain was numb, but it was like someone took a pair of pliers and just squeezed his nerve. The pain was like hell.

The pain, Shawn could deal with for now, he poured the rest of the apple cider in the last glass. He grabbed the wooden tray, placed the glasses on the tray and walked out. He walked to Enrid and handed her glass, “Miss. Knoxx your cider. Pappy,” he handed his father his apple cider. He placed the tray down on a small table. He pulled out a chair sat down with the apple cider in his hand.

Enid glanced over other matters and casually just dropped one such incidence in the short time into the conversation. Almost as though she were completely disinterested in the topic when of course she was all ears. “Poor young Mr Flannagan getting injured so. Indians I heard. My. We all have our crosses to bear but so resilient.”

“No, pity, Miss Knox, I bare not want to hear it,” he said. He took a sip of his cider. It was delicious. His mother was impressive making things. “Captain Michael King did not have the chance to defend us. The Indian female came charging like a raging bull. It happened to fast, she shot him squared between the eyes and he was dead. I would have been killed with the Captain. If my son, James did not see her the city a few days early. I would not be sitting here and have this conversation. So, I am thankful for surviving that,” he said looking down at his glass of cider. “We where trying to recover the dead body of the family out there. It seemed a band of Indians had attacked a ranch. Stole all their cattle and burned everything down. They had butchered the family,” he said looking at her.

She gave every appearance of sympathy and she was sympathetic to a degree. The savages beyond were heathens who had refused the light of God’s love. To be at the receiving end of such violence of one of that pagan lot was truly horrendous. Again, in an ever so casual tone, Enid slipped into the conversation, “Was it perhaps the young Indian lady that was shot in the Saloon? Hmm.” She feigned innocence as if she could possibly cause any offence with such a casual and innocent question.

“Yes, Inrid was her name,” Shawn added he was drunk when he shot her. “I was the one who shot her. She deserved. Eye for an eye, tooth for tooth--” he cringed in pain, his left hand crushed the glass of cider. His hand was in death grip. He got up fast, left the room.

The broken glass was on the floor and there was blood too.

Shawn was in the kitchen, against the wall holding his hand up because he was in pain. The nerve in his left eye was painful that his left hand was death grip. This never happened to him before. It was new. The glass shard was in his left hand. He looked at in pain, trying to open his hand. It won't listen, but a second it opened it up. It was like a demon possessed his hand. The shard of glass was in his hand.

Ooc My mom had this happen to her. She had bad operation. The eye Doctor messed up in her left eye. Once a while out of the blue her left hand becomes a death grip. She broke a sink handle once, ripped a door off a hinge once.