Shopping at the General Store


wade_icon.jpg moses_icon.jpg grace_icon.jpg


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Summary: Grace and Moses pay a late evening visit to the General Store and its proprietor Wade

Date: January 13th, 1884

Shopping at the General Store

General Store

General Store

The Mercantile is a common general store, with all the normal wares. This store has everything from candy, to fabric, to weaponry. There is produce, and vegetables, and even bottles of liquor, and wine. The Mercantile is a smaller, one-story establishment. The floor is hard-wood, made from Ponderosa Pine. There is a counter next to the door, with a new-fangled cash drawer.

The fire-laced tornado had touched here as well. The front door had been ripped from it's hinges, and the dynamite shed out back had burned to the ground. Fortunately, it had not exploded, as the volatile explosives had boiled away before the shed collapsed.

Players: Wade Moses Grace

Contents: Bulliten Board <IC>

Exits: [O] Division and Cherry Rd

Standing 6'3" in his socks is a broad shouldered black man in his late 30's to Early 40's. Closer inspection of his features reveals a mixed race heritage. Currently he's dressed in Old Cavalry pants held up by thick leather suspenders and a belt with a polished Cavalry buckle, A home spun cotton shirt with a V-neck that runs almost to the Sternum revealing a large scar across the chest, and a faded and Threadbare Cavalry coat with the insignia of 1st Sergeant on the shoulder along with an 81st Negro Cavalry badge. An old Cavalry hat rests on his head, shadowing surprisingly intense Gunmetal grey eyes
Mistah Dawg

A reasonably tall looking man stands here. He looks to be about 5'9 in height and maybe a dash over 180 pounds. He looks to be a middle aged fellow, perhaps in his early fourties. His hair has been cut reasonably short, slicked back somewhat, with enough stubble on his cheeks and jaw to make more than one girl lick her lips. He dosen't smell though, and appears well dressed. A pair of matching cloth jacket and pants, black in color, with a few signs of wear and tear, but not muddied. Beneath his jacket is a white shirt and dark blue vest. A black 49er style hat rests on his head, somewhat dusty by the looks of it. On his feet are a pair of simple brown cowboy boots, about his waist is a heavily worn leather gunbelt with holstered pistol and extra ammunition slung about the sides of the belt.

Perhaps the thing that most immediately would catch someone's attention is this woman's hair. It's silken and soft and red… Really, really red, like a smoldering ember or a sunset that turns the sky to liquid fire. It's the kind of colour that can only occur in nature, that bottles can't come close to recreating. This red hair is fashionably twisted and pinned about the back of her head, exposing the slender column of her white neck, and errant whisps of natural curls break free here and there to frame her face.
Then, there's the rest of her. Scarcely taller than 5'2", her body is sleek and willowy, possessing a natural hourglass figure involving some wicked curves. It's like she was built to be looked at. Her oval face carries the destinction of sculpted femininity: high, molded cheekbones, a slender and dainty nose, a clear brow, and a pouty, bee-stung cupid's bow of a mouth. Sparkling and jewel-toned, her long-lashed eyes are a deep emerald with flecks of warm amber, and their shape is cast to a slightly almond slant.
The little redhead wears a bustled walking dress of rich navy blue silk; the underskirt is box pleated, with a narrow-plaited ruffle below the edge, which is cut in points. Luxurious drapery is fastened on the jacket-like corseted bodice, cut in the latest Paris fashions and is trimmed with a band of embossed velvet, with cuffs and high collar of the same. Hand-tatted lace peeks from the bodice's collar, attached to a smartly sewn blouse of a fine cream lawn. A velvet bonnet, trimmed with satin surah, flowers, and feathers is perched jauntily over her copper tresses.


  • When Grace walks into the General Store, she's got a weary look on her normally cheerful face. It's cold. It's wet. It's snowy. Not that the Irishwoman is unused to such combinations, but the mountains of Colorado are -much- different than the hills of Eire. She sullenly stomps the snow from her boots and trudges into the mercantile, lower lip protruding in a young, if perhaps charming, way. "Devil take tha' snow," she grumps. "Ach, but 'tis enough ta try the patience of a saint!"
  • Surely much to Grace's delight, Wade is stoking the fire inside his cast-iron stove, adding a few more lengths of wood and poking it with his iron poker, getting the fire nice and hot to help warm his establishment. He closes the grate, hanging up the poker before looking to Grace, "It does seem ta be gettin colder out there, no?"
  • Following behind Grace, Moses smiles his usual smile. Mr. Dog peeking out of the inside pocket of his cavalry coat. stomping the snow off his own boots reveals they are more hole than leather. Looking around the store, Moses murmurs. "Ain't bein' so bad.
  • Grace can't help but smile at Moses, utter affection for the burly black man shining through her eyes… much like one gives a favourite child. She shakes her head. "And -ye- with yer holey boots an' threadbare coat!" she says, starting to scold. "I'll make ye a new coat before tha snow melts or I'll be a leprechaun's uncle!" she declares. A woman now on a mission, she spins to face Wade and marches up to the counter. "And a wonderful frozen evenin' tae ye, Mr. Wade," she says calmly. "I'll be needin' ta place a few orders tae go out… But I'm nary so very sure meself what all they are." She glares out of doors again. "Me carpenter tells meself tha' 'twould be best tae plan the clothier fer now an' rebuild come tha spring thaw." She coughs and turns back. "An' I'll be needin' a pair o' boots tae fit Mr. Moses here." She glances back. "An' a bit o' jerky fer Mr. Dog."
  • Wade considers all the requests, "Aye, buildin durin the spring better.. durin winter is most.. unadvisable…" he states, "Ah kin get the boots.. if ye give me his size.. an as fer the jerk… I have some in stock… smoked of course… from the ranchers…. for resale if ye wish."
  • Moses Wanders around the store quietly seemingly in his own little world. "Mistuh O'Rourke, he be tellin' me once that Leprechauns once be the fathers of der faeries types. once be called Louie Long hands 'er somethin'." Looking up as they mention him, he looks down at his boots. "Don' be knowin' no sizins. but it's be ok. dese here'n boots. they goes a long way with me. cain't jes' be throwin' them away." finally seeing what he's looking for. Moses grabs a thick pair of leather gloves and a thick pick axe handle. Moving to the front of the store, he sets them on the counter. "Be needin 3 cans o' Goat's mi'k an 'bout this much barbed wire." as he speaks he holds his hands to about 3' worth.
  • Turning briefly from the counter, Grace flounces over to the bulliten board and sticks up a notice. "Also…" she adds over her shoulder. "Can ye be tellin' me what manner o' pistols ye have? I'd prefer somethin' made by Colt 'r Remington." She scowls softly when the boots are refused, but otherwise lapses into a companionable silence. "Forget th' jerky, Mr. Wade," she says quietly. "Sure but I forgot that Mr. Dog isna ready for the chewin'."

( post Manual Labour After Thaw=Men needed for the building of the new clothier store. Construction to begin immediately after the thaw. Please seek out either Miss Grace O'Coilean or Mr. Pleasant Washington. You posted note #6.)

  • Wade gives another little shrug, "Well.. what with the gunshop opening up as per usual… the demand has been down… I only have a smattering of pistols for sale… no derringers.. just cavalry pistols." he says, gesturing to the glass display case with pistols beneath, "Nothing fancy I am afraid, not without custom orders…." he says as he looks to Moses, "What ye need a pick axe an barbed wire for?"
  • Moses Tilts his head in a ponderous manner and shrugs. "Don' be needin' no pick axe. Just der handle." Looking around, he adds. "Be akin' a pair of dem wool socks too an' a big can of sliced peaches. Been a long time since I been havin' me peaches."
  • "I don't be needin' a derringer," Grace says calmly and firmly. "Me own dear Molly is bein' worked on at the gunshop. I need a big solid reliable pistol. Somethin' like a .41 or somethin'." She peruses the gun cabinet. She suddenly looks up, eyes twinkling. "Do ye have any sort o'… Well, pineapple?" she asks.
  • Wade raises an eyebrow, "Pineapple? Might have a few cans, plenty o peaches though." he says with a smile, pointing over to the canned goods section, "Always in stock… very popular.. along with cinnamon it seems." he says, returning his gaze to Grace, "Why ye need such a pistol? Afraid o snakes or somesuch? If ye was looking for a hunting arm I might suggest a rifle.. or shotgun for game birds."
  • Moses smiles as he gets the peaches and looks around once more. "What I be owin Mistuh?"
  • The tiny little Irishwoman dances over to the canned goods section and starts rummaging around. Finally, with a delighted cheer of triumph, she resurfaces with a can of pineapples! She skips back and arches an eyebrow. "Fer decoration, Mr. Wade," she says with a bright laugh. "I be needin' tha gun fer decoration!" Seems she's picked up on the notion of folks not asking too many personal questions about a person's business.
  • Wade gives a nod at the cans, "Fifty cents bout cover it." he says, sitting back behind the counter.
  • Moses pauses or a moment, then reaches into his pocket and comes out with a silver dollar. Setting it on the counter, he smiles. "Be thankin' ye's."
  • Grace just quietly waves Moses off and slides over a gold twenty dollar coin to cover his purchases as well as hers. "But… About the gun?" She looks around at the counter. "Tha best an' most reliable ye've got."
  • Wade gives a nod, slipping the gold coin into the register. "Thank ye." he says, looking to Grace, "Decoration? Well… Take yer pick I spose.. got a few remington's an colts.. ah dun recommend the walker colt.. got a few drawbacks… but… if yer lookin fer a cap'n'ball.. one o the most accurate an quickest… but.. a peacemaker has a bit more… glory to it."
  • Moses Looks behind the counter and scratches his cheek. "Might be wantin' one of dem Walch Navy .38 calibre pistols Missus Grace. Be lookin' like a Colt Russian, but it be holdin' 12 rounds 'stead of 8."
  • "Aye?" Grace asks, eyebrows raised at Moses. "And does it shoot straight an' true?" she asks. She looks at Wade. "Do ye have one o' those?"
  • Wade shakes his head, "Not in stock.. but I can get a few in next week's order iffin ye like… Like ah said.. I dun stock too many guns or the like… just some ammunition an the general guns people use fer huntin an the like."
  • Moses Shrugs. "Shoot straight 'nuff. felluh in Chicago dun shot me wit' one. got 4 bullets inna me. An' the first shot was from 50 yards."
  • Grace looks at Moses. She nods slowly and turns back to Wade. "I'll order one o' those." She fishes around in her puse and pulls out a little extra money. "And also fer a nice tin o' yer Irish blend," she says with a sheepish grin. "Thank ye, Mr. Wade, an' have a wonderful evenin'."
  • The money handed over, the items gathered and the orders made, Grace turns back to Moses and pauses. "Would ye be willin' tae walk me back tae th' Hotel, Mr. Moses? Tis after dark, an I donna think I'm supposed tae walk alone."
  • Wade nods, "I'll let ye know when yer order comes in Mizz." he says, bowing a little as he watches the pair depart.
  • Moses Nods to Grace "Be happy to Missus Grace." Looking back to Wade, he offers a bright smile as he gathers his things. "Thanks Mistuh." that done, he waits for Grace to lead the way.


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