The newly elected mayor of Centerville, the Honorable A. Moritz Esquire, gathered in front of the townspeople, and sitting at his side were Tycoon Harrington and Baron Anderson, plus; T. Jewett, also recently elected to City Council, and owner of Jewett Freight Company; Ms. Tina, newly appointed school mistress of the Vermillion Township; B. Bushell Esquire, and Banker R. Stufflebeam.

The Honorable Moritz had a lengthy career in the legal services, as a lawyer and a judge, on the city council and school board, with his only weakness being the jars of homemade wine brought to him by the Clarkdale Italians.

“And as mayor of this wonderful community, I promise to address all your needs!” The townspeople applauded. “And thank you Baron Anderson and Tycoon Harrington for the lovely velvet satchel that you had shipped to me all the way from Paris. I sure didn’t expect it to be full of cash!”

Tycoon Harrington cleared his throat loudly and Baron Anderson put a hand over his face.

“I also want to thank Jewett Freight Company for hauling my cases of wine all the way from Clarkdale. And not a single jar broken! Mr. Jewett, you’re a careful driver.”

Jewett stepped forward and whispered to the mayor.

“Of course,” the mayor said. “Teamster Thomas, a fine driver and I’ve never doubted Thomas!”

The crowd guffawed.

The Mayor continued. “And a special thanks to our school board for approving the improvements to our schoolhouse and outhouse!”

Ms. Tina whispered into the Mayor’s ear.

“Oh, my apologies. The outhouse still works like new!”

* * * * *

Ms. Tina was proud of the fresh touch on her schoolhouse, but she couldn’t say the same about the new mayor. She knew he meant well, but also prayed that one day women could vote. The Baptist Women’s League would have certainly made a difference in this election.

On her way to the school she ran into Marshal Marshall the town Marshal. He was a traditional man, refusing to wear the new “copper” uniforms mandated by a council vote. Constable Howington had no choice in the matter, but Marshal Marshall told the mayor he’d be happy to step down before he worked with such discomfort, and reminded the mayor of the numerous times he carried him home and put him in bed instead of in the city jail. The mayor politely agreed that Marshal Marshall should do as he wished.

But now the task at hand for Ms. Tina was getting her students to write “Marshal Marshall” on their slates and not getting the “L’s” turned around.

* * * * *

Baron Anderson and Tycoon Harrington met at Ms. Micki’s Saloon for a drink and to discuss the mayor’s speech. Ms. Micki walked up with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses.

“Will there be anyone else joining you gentlemen?” Ms. Micki said.

“No, just us, Ms. Micki,” Harrington said. “And thanks for calling us gentlemen.”

Ms. Micki started pouring whiskey into their glasses. “Did I say gentlemen? What on earth ever came over me. Must have been thinking about those cowpokes from Cincinnati that just rode through town.”

Baron Anderson huffed. “Cowpokes from Cincinnati… gentleman? Not that outfit. Dregs, maybe, but far from gentleman.”

Ms. Micki put the cork back in the bottle. “Don’t get your stirrups twisted, Baron. Give me too much sass and I’m liable to put laudanum on the rim of your glass. See if you wind up in Mystic later.”

She winked at him as she walked away and the Baron brushed a hand at her.

The Baron looked toward the batwing doors. “Where’s Bushell and Stuffy?”

“Bushell is at the Mayor’s office getting a sworn statement signed by Moritz swearing there was no money in the satchel. Whew! Dodged a minie ball there.”

“You think he’ll sign it?”

“Of course he will. A jar of wine and lasagna, that’s all it takes.”

“What about Stuffy?”

The tycoon grinned. “I saw him go into his bank and sit down and started counting his money. Then he opened his ledger and started adding up the interest he’s earning. Fella has more money than Queen Victoria.”

“My money, your money, and everyone else’s money in this town.”

“No arguing that.”

“Maybe when he’s finished he’ll join us.”

“Ha! The old boy knew Abe Lincoln. You think he gives us a second of thought?”

* * * * *

T. Jewett gave S. Thomas the teamster a shipping manifest.

Thomas looked it over. “What is all this?”

“Supplies for the Anderson ranch. You’ll need to meet his foreman out there. Foreman Wright. Mr. Jim, they call him.”

“Yeah, I know him. But the Baron has his own drivers and wagons. Since when does he hire us?”

Jewett grinned and exhaled smoke from his cigar. “Since he went all-in at our poker game last night.”

* * * * *

Teamster Thomas helped load the wagon then headed west of town. When he arrived at the ranch he found the largest barn and a corral where Formen Wright was standing, a foot in the bottom fence rail watching the wrangler work a sorrel mare.

“Howdy,” Teamster Thomas greeted as he set the brake on the wagon. “Where do you want these crates?”

Foreman Jim pointed toward the big barn. “You can take them over by the open door. I’ll get a couple boys to help you unload.”

“That’s alright, I can get it.”

“No, no, you didn’t lose the poker game. The Baron did.”

Teamster Thomas grinned. “Alright.” He grabbed the brake handle. “But I have a question for you.”

“What would that be?”

“The Baron. We aren’t like him. You and me. We’re working men. I’ve heard things. So this poker deal has me worried. Does the Baron pay his bills? Because I’m the one who does the collecting.”

“No, he doesn’t pay the bills, I do. He may own the place, but I run the place. You got a problem with anything, you come see me.”

Teamster Thomas nodded. “I’ll do that.”

* * * * *

In the next episode of CENTERVILLE 1884:
Centerville welcomes a new lumber yard and a produce company. Mayor Moritz helps with the ribbon cutting, and Jewett and Harrington make their freight deals. Baron Anderson prepares for a cattle drive, and the idea of bringing a new newspaper to Centerville. The town welcomes a former citizen turned heiress, when she arrives at the train depot.