Yankton

Chapter 23

Chapter 23 Colin

I decided to write a separate chapter on three remarkable people of the old west, and how both came into our employ. Their stories reflect the grit and determination of a class of people that have long since faded from our society.

It was the third day I think of remodeling the shack on our property that he came trudging down the road. I saw him first, a short but muscular looking man wearing a red plaid shirt, and a beat up derby hat, carrying a crude haversack on his back , as well as a beat-up old banjo. He entered the yard, and asked for a drink of water. When I asked him where he was going he answered. "Sir, my name is Colin Murphy, I arrived her last summer hoping to strike it rich, I left me a good job in Baltimore thinking I was gonna git rich and be able to bring me family over from Ireland but I've lost nearly everything I had except this old banjo, now it's "shanks mare" all the way back to Baltimore." In just the short period of time I had spent with this man, he intrigued me. "Hold on just a moment Mr. Murphy," I said, "Got any carpenter experience or anything to do with the building trades?" He studied me for a moment, then replied, "A little, mostly brick laying though." "Sit down over there and play me something on that banjo," I said. He looked at me with a puzzled look, but did as I asked, playing a couple tunes I wasn't familiar with, but whatever they were , he played them quite well. "So far so good, Mr. Murphy," I replied. "Here's the situation. "We really need someone here who can give us a hand getting this place up and running. As long as you have basic carpentry skills I've no problem with teaching you the rest."

Colin was the quintessential Irishman, I kept thinking of the John Wayne film "The Quiet Man," in fact Colin reminded me strongly of the Barry Fitzgerald character, although he was a little heavier set as well as a little taller. He spoke with a thick brogue, but if you paid attention, you could understand him.

Colin now realized that He stood a good chance of landing a job, and his attention really picked up. "However that's not all, once we finish, and even before, I could use a good man to kind of keep an eye on things around here, you look like a guy who can use his fists," Colin smiled and flexed his arms. "Great," I said, "The job won't pay much at first, but you'll get bed and board, but the important thing is this, as your experience and responsibilities grow, so will your pay. Another thing, you do right by me, I'm prepared to do the same for you, I'm looking for a responsible individual who is a self starter, looks out for my interests, but most of all can be trusted, that's the most important thing. If you can handle that, and I include no drinking on the job as part of that, you've got a career here. And one more thing, If you work out, and do a good job for me, I'm prepared to assist you in bringing your family over here, so you have a goal to work for, think you can handle it?"

He sat there at the table for a moment looking down at his hands then looking up, he replied, "Sir, I don't know what to say, you're the first man to offer me anything but a days wages, and a kick in the ass." "I think, you will find me rather different Colin," I replied, "I know what it's like to work for someone else, I'm more interested in working as a team, "Purgatory" is going to require teamwork to operate properly, and that means looking out for each other. A woman whom you haven't met yet by the name of Montana is going to be running the saloon, Melonie over there is going to be working in the clinic as well as the general store whenever that gets done. I'm looking at you as someone who can take charge and make decisions whenever Mark or I or both of us are gone. So…For the time being you'll be on probation, until I can see if your going to work out, anything I think you need to know and don't, I'll train you. One other thing, I'm not a slave driver, we're busting ass now trying to get this place up and running before winter hits, but normally I take a pretty relaxed attitude towards things. So, what say you?" "I'm your man," said Colin," I reached over and shook his hand, "Welcome aboard."

Ingrid Saknussemm

She went by the nickname "Sockie" short for Saknussemm, Ingrid Saknussemm came to us from the auspices of the Bella Union, a competitor of Swearingen's. she told Montana one day she woke up after a particularly bad night, and just simply decided she was finished whoring, paid off her debt with everything she had in the world, and just walked out. She looked up Montana, who told her about our place'

"I wont w***e no more," she told Montana, "I'll sweep floors or clean stables but no more whoring."

As she later told us, her family came over from Sweden when she was ten, the family moved to Minnesota, where her parents were killed by Indians, in the confusion afterwards, she and her brother were split up, she was forced into prostitution at sixteen, by a man she wants to kill before she dies, as well as find her brother. So she became our bartender, probably the only female bartender in the west. She had an extremely wicked sense of humor, could swear with the best of them, but wasn't above telling people to watch their tongue's. Turns out she was a pretty fair cook, so Montana assigned her to that duty as well, although the time required for that was handled on a "as needed" basis.

Sockie Wasn't a real beauty, but she wasn't plain either, you think of Swedes as having blond hair, but Sockie's was a light brown. She wore it in one large braid over her right shoulder, but eventually, with my sister's help went to two long and thin braids winding around her hair which she pulled back. Life obviously hadn't dealt her a "good" hand, and the look in her eyes showed it. Sockie didn't suffer fools, and wasn't afraid of chewing out Montana or I. Nobody quite knew how to take her at first, but once she found out Melonie was training to be a doctor the two became fast friends, she would tell Melonie things she'd never tell anyone else. Montana made her the same offer I made to Colin, and eventually, she, like Colin became valued and trusted employees. She also kept her mouth shut, we were pretty sure, she knew our "secret" about being from the future, as Colin eventually discovered on his own, but the both of them never said a word. During the winter when things were slow, and we were enjoying a surprising warm spell, Ingrid asked me to teach her how to shoot. So for two days we stood out back and along with Melonie, shot targets and learned about guns. Later, she would go out on her own and practice when business was slow. One thing I was determined to do was sit down with Colin, Ingrid and Montana and get their stories down on record, they were remarkable individuals with incredible stories to tell stories that added a lost human factor to stories of the old west.

Oliver Whitworth

Another figure to become one of our "regulars," was an Englishman named Oliver Whitworth.

Oliver was what was politely referred to as a "remittance man." These were usually sons of wealthy families that for one reason or another were sent a remittance, or allowance to "Just stay the hell away from home, don't bother or bug us!" There were any number of these types wandering around the west looking for adventure or whatever came their way. Sometimes they were sons who could go home, but choose to experience the "wild west," as defined by what was termed "penny dreadful's or the dime novel, which was just coming on the scene. As I once explained to Melonie and Montana, these cheaply printed tracts were the start of the "legend of the west, culminating in the TV western.

Mr. Whitworth would never explain to us why he couldn't go home, but Colin told me that he had heard Whitworth talking to a Welshman, as Colin put it, and admitting to the man that he had been a subaltern in the army and had been kicked out for an act of cowardice in South Africa. Colin would have nothing to do with the man partially for that, but mainly because he was Irish, and Whitworth was English, and from a wealthy family. I carefully explained to Colin that I understood the animosity between the two as well as all the reasons why the Irish hated the British so. Eventually I even sat down with Colin and gave him a "crash course" in modern world history, detailing the Easter uprising, the "troubles," clear through World War one and two.

"Colin," I began, "The potato famine, the English landlords kicking good people off their land as well as problems going back to the Celtic days are still very fresh in your mind, and I don't blame you. However all that is just ancient history to people like Mark and I. We only know of the modern Ireland, and yes, there are the "Troubles," between the protestants and Catholic's, the British occupation of Northern Ireland, the IRA and all that. I happen to like Mr. Whitworth, even if he did bail on his troops in Africa. I'm also interested in Victorian England, as well as Charles Dickens, Oliver just happens to be a wealth of Knowledge on both." I suspected Colin was right about Whitworth having been in the army, as his knowledge of Afghanistan and the British military confirmed this. Regardless, Oliver Whitworth was a very educated man, who eventually became our school teacher, instructing the children that started showing up. Whatever Mr. Whitworth's past sins had been, he more than made up for them with his wit, knowledge, and responsibility. In the end, he sat down with Mark and I and confessed the truth, but more on that later.

One of my main reasons for traveling back in time was to experience for myself history as it really was, the men and women of the old west, the people who tamed a wilderness, rugged individualists who are now gone from the scene. It's a shame really, but on the other hand, what would they do now? There's no more "heavy lifting" to be done anymore. Mark told me of a song called "This is the Last Cowboy Song," I had Melinda track it down, and it really does express the end of a hundred year waltz, talking about a guy who works at a convenience store and a feedlot on the weekends.

"He stood toe to toe with Lewis and Clark, and rode with the Seventh when Custer went down." Mark and I were living a life historians would sell their mothers to experience but they never had to sit on a cold privy seat in the middle of winter.