A Town Called Sunrise

Jamboree in Full Swing

"Well, Mule," Casey said, a rough hand resting on the animal's long nose, "Time to take the next step." He packed the last of his tools and tied them with his bedroll and saddlebag to the animal's back." Round doleful eyes shifted toward him and the large ears twitched.

"We'll get to town in the mornin'. First day of assay is always crowded and pushy. Hope it's still ol' Troy Waites doin' the figurin'. This is the trip where we make this all ours, then we can sit back and enjoy life." The ears twitched again.

He picked up the lead rope, and slipped his shotgun out of the scabbard. Best be prepared, he reckoned.

******

Troy Waites slumped in the corner of the train compartment, blood from his nose drying on his upper lip. His initial defiance quickly repelled when the punch indicated, without a doubt, that they were serious. He had known Casey the prospector for years, noticing each time he brought samples for assay, they were better quality, and eventually good enough that he had told the old man he needed to register his claim.

Casey had finally agreed and said he would get it done at this year's jamboree. And now this mess with threats if Troy let that happen. He was certainly no hero, but he wasn't a coward either. Somehow he had to get word to the sheriff before Casey showed up. There was nothing he could do from the train, so he pretended to finally give in and do what they wanted. It was a lot better than getting punched again.

******

First thing in the morning, Main street was packed. Families from the local farms, ranchers and their hires, all the townspeople, and even folks from outside the county that came by stage or wagon. The hotel was full, and Arvil's corral outside the livery was also full with carriages and wagons that weren't allowed on the main street. His stock was relocated to the rear of the telegraph office in temporary pens.

Outside her general store, Emma Porter dispensed Good & Plenty, Tootsie Rolls, NECCO Wafers, candy sticks and pulled creams, each for a few pennies to parents of wide-eyed children. Her long table was decorated with some of the latest fabrics she carried; a lure for some of the interested women.

There would be target shooting for the men in the lane beside the jail, where one of the town's older residents sold tickets for the shoot, and collected the guns from everyone entering town. Fiddlers and clowns pranced in and out of the building crowd, while cowboys doing tricks with lassoes entranced some of the young girls and women.

As the morning progressed, the kissing booth was almost overwhelmed, with cheers and splashes from the dunking stool beside it, confirming its location to be the right one. The band was playing music non-stop, and dancing was spontaneous and free. Reverend Ezra Pew exhorted the passing men to try their skill at the horseshoe pits, even challenging some with small wagers.

Charlotte Pointer had given up on keeping the children in order, and they were like bees, darting between the people and getting underneath or inside the different displays. Patsy beamed at the attention her famous muffins drew, and alongside, at the drinks table, Daisy poured pitchers of lemonade or mugs of coffee and tea to those less inclined to give the saloon their custom.

Colt leaned next to the piano on the saloon porch enjoying a beer and listening to Blue's sensual voice singing, While Strolling in the Park One day. A few voices in the crowd joined in with her encouragement. It was just as they all wanted. Beautiful day. Big crowd. Laughter and good feelings throughout. This was their Sunrise.

Jeremy checked in and said that when the train arrived, he'd be up in Arvil's loft. His expression indicated a less than happy duty. The prospectors had been drifting into town in larger numbers, and Colt made sure they saw him. A few needed to be reminded about guns in town, but for the most part they were peaceful.

Still, he could see the anxious glint in their eyes, the tension wrinkles in the leathery skin around the mouths. They were eager to learn the value of their strikes and get paid in cash. Colt told them where the assay would take place, but not before the train arrived, so they weren't to enter the livery yet.

******

Colt finished walking the street, greeting visitors and friends, and checking that all was peaceful and pleasurable. Daisy poured a glass of lemonade and held it out as he came by. He smiled and took the drink, winking, and getting a kick out of her blush.

"Get all that work done that needed doin'?"

"Once I cleaned out the mess," she parried, smirking.

Colt snorted his drink and Daisy blushed even brighter.

"Land sakes, what's the matter with you two? Just because you're the law, doesn't mean you get everything free." Patsy called from the next stand.

"Just went down the wrong way," Colt bluffed. "My, those muffins sure look tasty."

"And they are - at ten cents apiece." Her look was stern but her mouth twitched a smile.

Colt dug out some coins and paid Daisy for the lemonade, winking again, then bought two muffins.

"One's for Jeremy, he's gonna be stuck in that loft quite a while."

"Well here's another one for him, on me. And see that he gets it, 'cause I'll check."

"Patsy, after all I've done for you, you treat me this way?" He laughed and moved away, pretending to eat the muffin.

"Sheriff!" Donny ran up to him holding out a piece of paper.

"Not here to arrest me again I hope."

"Nossir. I brung . . . brought . . . a message from the telegraph office." He handed Colt the paper. "Mr. Wireton said you'd pay me."

"Did he now." Colt read the message confirming the train's arrival at ten-o'clock.

"Well that was pretty important news, Donny. Guess that's worth a nickel for sure." He flipped the coin to the boy, ruffled his hair, and moved on.

Arvil was seated on a chair outside the livery, a large double barrelled shotgun across his lap.

"Expectin' trouble, Arvil?"

"Don't know. Never done this before."

"Jeremy's gonna be here, so any trouble, he can take care of it. Is he here now?"

"Over at the diner."

"You know the rule about guns in town, right?"

"This is my property an' if I want to have my gun, I'll have it."

"Arvil, what's botherin' you?"

The big smithy shifted on the chair, jerking his head toward the street, and Colt turned to see the cluster of prospectors camped out by the bank.

"They ain't nothin' to worry about, Arv, they're just trying to be first in line for when the assayer comes - and by the way, that won't be 'till ten-o'clock. Don't think you want to sit here 'til then do you?"

"You sure it'll be okay?"

"You got my word, Arv. How about settin' that piece aside and go and have yourself a little fun in town. I'll fetch Jeremy and tell him what I said, okay?"

"I reckon I could use some of them muffins you got there, and a good drink."

"There you go."

Colt watched him lumber up the street, slowing to study the group in front of the bank. He chuckled to himself and headed to the diner.