The Gathering

The coolness of the reap was descending on the Northern Barony The lights and stuffy guys began to show up just about the time that John and Camille were beginning their long nights and pleasant days of palaver over things lost and things yet unfound. They were like drunks in their own liquor store. They could have all they wanted. They could stay among themselves and never even have to come up for air. They provided enough for each other. Lively discussions of what good men could do if left alone to do it. What could be accomplished if people didn’t have to be held to standard conscription of life’s stations because of who you were or more importantly were not. The greater discussion of what could be done was also beginning. John spoke at times of revolution and overthrow but Camille often dismayed him with rational words of civil disobedience. John didn’t understand how you could think that by just not doing what they wanted you to do would end you up anywhere but the hoosegow or worse the noose. No he thought the only way to change things was had to come by force of arms not of wills. Camille was nonetheless enchanted by John. He had a manner about him and a force that she had never seen before. His eyes blazed and his back straightened as he spoke. Often he had to stand and move about as he spoke because the chair could no longer contain him and his body wanted to participate with the brain and the mouth and the lungs and the heart. It was in these moments when he seemed to light up from the inside and even if she didn’t agree with what he was saying she would think that if he wanted her to follow him hell and battle Lucifer himself she only needed to know when. It was spiritual and emotional and by Glory better than orgasmic because it lasted and lasted and lasted. He could take you on the currents of the wind and carry you there. He was, in short, enchanting.
It was this enchantment that gave Camille the idea. As ideas go it was a pretty simple one but the repercussions would be felt forever. Why not invite others to join in the discussion. Of course discretion would be needed but she was not worried about that. Like drugs, a user can usually spot another from a mile away; discretion was a recognizable trait by those who possessed it themselves. But who to bring in for these discussions, that would be interesting. They needed to be open and willing to discuss these things and listen and learn. She could think of a few right away so she approached John with the idea.
“Would you like to share these things with someone other than me?” she asked
“I would share these things with anybody that would listen but do you think it safe that we open up to others?” John inquired
“We would be discriminating in our choices and would be singularly focused on discussing these things only after a vetting of ideas from who ever we invited. Never the less I do feel like there are more who feel the way we do than we could possible imagine.”
So it began with a few, just a few.
Camille had been afforded an existence of near solitude thanks to the unfortunate death of her father when she was very young. In the intervening years her mother had been consumed with grief and thus she began to consume. Liquor was her most favorite pastime and thanks to the small fortune her late husband had left she needed for no other amusement. She spent most of her days in her chamber with her favorite bottle and a picture of her dearly departed. Camille had taken over the duties of the household and with a few servants she had managed to not only hold the place together but thanks to her friends in the right places she had managed to invest in just the right way in order to see her fathers money not get squandered away. It was here in the small home down at the end of the garden path that Camille hosted gatherings of friends. These days those friends were also becoming friends of John. He of the small stature and giant vision held court there on most evenings, doling out his own brand of liquor that those in attendance drank with glee. At first there were only four newcomers that Camille had invited. Joshua Winter, the local money counter, who Camille trusted beyond all but John. Mikal Willow who did not seem to have a position of income but was one of the lucky like Camille who was left with enough. George Latigo, who was known for his exploits in service of the affiliation, but served curiously enough for the gold given to a posse leader or bounty hunter and not for any sense of honor or duty. Finally there was the most curious of all. This one was somewhat of a local wanderer. He had taken up refuge in the small home of an elderly gentleman and seemed if nothing else to be his caretaker and companion. He adorned the style of a spiritualist with white shirts and black pants that symbolized simplicity. He was known to Camille because he had helped her one day when there was a storm that had taken part of the back porch off of Camille’s home. He had offered help and had delivered. Since that time Camille had seen him on numerous occasions and had always had more than passing words with him. He was curious and was more than a little intrigued by the way Camille seemed to be entranced by this young man John. He agreed to listen if for no other reason than to insure that Camille was not being seduced by someone who may or may not be trustworthy. At least that is what he led Camille to believe because he not only wanted to listen to John but had to, in order to guide things as he would like them guided. Welcome to the gang Marten, who would almost immediately become indispensable to John of Farson, the good man to be.