From Parsons to Ladore and then Cherryvale

March 26, 1873
 
The next to final leg of our journey began, as so many had, and would, in intemperate weather. Sleet, cold winds, a general malaise of death, with no sign of the spring to come whatsoever either in temperature or color awaited us on the journey.

We were leaving Parsons to travel to the Bender Inn, near Cherryvale. We decided to avoid going to Ladore for the moment as the trail did not led us in that direction. The Osage Trace at these points meanders a bit, going through a hilly and forested patch of land, perfect for bushwhacking, which Mumple highly suspected would be the cause of the Doctor’s ultimate demise. I shared my confidence that I tended to suspect the supposedly fine and fair townspeople of Cherryvale instead, particularly we found fliers for one Katie Bender, who promised to heal the sick, cure the blind, restore the hearing as well as deaf and dumbness through her spiritualist ways. I had run into such before, it is a professional hazard as a stage magician to run into those duping the innocent for their own gain via a mixture of techniques from the throwing of the voice, thumping tables and wires. Still, few of those turn to murder to make a profit so… we moved on.

While upon the Trace Jimmy the Wolf and Mumple spotted four men on horseback, looking down upon us from the ridge. They made no moves as they were quite out of range, at least a quarter mile. The Bly brothers apparently whose homestead was further along the Trace and apparently, as we were warned in Parsons, not above a bit of bushwhacking if the odds seemed good. We were five, they were four. Not good odds, perhaps the Doctor riding alone seemed a better mark. Mumple again suspected this highly.
Shortly we came across a strange set of huts, the Rogers, a family of many thieving children, a father obsessed with fire and a mother obsessed with Herb. We quickly moved on, although I was deprived of my gambling winnings of the previous night by the little ragamuffins, eh. Easy come, easy go. They looked like they needed it more than I.
 
The next homestead was a farm in which the resident at the house told us to git off his land and proceeded to fire a few warning shots. Mumple tried to engage him in conversation but we chose to leave to seek kinder folk as it was not yet noon.
 
Finally we stumbled up a fine wooden house with a barn, several animals and an orchard. A somewhat loud man introduced himself as Junior and welcomed us inside, to the Bender Inn. We had finally arrived.
 
The Bender Inn was a small place, it possessed a few stocked can goods, some tobacco and sundry items and they offered us a meal of stew. They also said they had not seen the good Doctor for weeks, as he had been through there on the way up to Fort Scott and not returned since. I checked the barn for a fine bay horse but found only empty stalls tended by an old man, the matriarch of the family, Frank. He was elderly but stoutly built, apparently being a blacksmith by trade. He kindly took the animals and saw to them. Inside my companions talked to Katie, who, apparently, was considered quite good looking, not interested in the ladies I have never really been an expert on such things.
 
With no sign of the Doctor my companions had settled upon the idea was that he had been set upon on the Trace and wanted to try and track down the Bly brothers. So we search around and found the trail to take us up the lookout point we had been observed from early. Jimmy was looking around for tracks when I managed to spot some odd disturbed patches in the soil. He was then able to track them, the trail led straight to Ladore.
 
Ah, Ladore, what a pleasant town.
 
It was rundown, most of the ceiling had holes in them, the town was slowing dying as the fine folk had moved on to Parson where the wheelhouse would eventually go in. A town whose future had been stolen from it. It was a cesspool of misery, despair, hopelessness, shallowness and no pity whatsoever. I am sure every resident would have killed us for our pocket change if we let them.
 
We went into the best of the shoddy looking watering holes and I chatted up the locals and got into a card game with some of them. The local whiskey, called Tarantula Juice was somewhat suspicious and I order some local red-eye out of Kansas City instead. Better safe than sorry. I was doing well at cards and got an earful about the goings on at the Benders, which apparently mostly involved sordid tales of Katie and her colorful antics when a large Albino named Augie Bly started shouting about his brother, I said that he went to take a piss, which was a complete falsehood, although a reasonable one, when Augie said, “He never take a piss without me!” Augie then upended the table and a brawl broke out. Finally! I wondered how long it would take!
 
Although I am uncertain of the details some of the locals got their faces punched, a couple went down, someone went for the guns briefly before Augie stormed out looking for his brother. He apparently passed by Mumple who said he had seen him running down the streets and pointed in an apparently random direction.
Cooler heads prevailed in the bar and we decided that we had had enough fun in Ladore, having discovered from the Livery that someone named Saul Tully of Cherryvale had sold a Fine Bay Mare recently in Ladore and he became a person on interest in our search. We headed off for Cherryvale and arrived later in the night and took rooms in the Grand Hotel to sleep off the encounter.