@AllenGies: Some potential typos/grammar…hopefully none are duplicates I mentioned before as I try to weed those out.
You know just how to say the coldest things and soon enough, you’ve got yourself (missing what?) you need. (Honor and Law slightly reduced, materials obtained)
“Pleasure doing business with woman (should be with a woman or with women) of rare skill.” She notes with real warmth. Anya steadily counts out the gold.
Morning comes and with it, breakfast. Hardtack is always around, but the best way to eat it is with bacon grease. which Old Schmidt is willing to brew himself. (Is Schmidt brewing bacon grease or coffee?)
You get down, bring your horse with you. The terrified animal bucks and kicks helplessly as white-hot lightning fills the sky. Stone shatters nearby as part of the slope pulverizes, but thankfully none of it touches you. When the storm at least (should be at last?) moves on, it leaves you drenched and shivering, but also alive.
Talking with Marshal James and Julia: You were convicted of killing Regina and Reginald’s (missing brother or sister)back in California. That does complicate things.
“Oh, it is not.” Yiska remarks, “but if the Red Ribbon dam were still in place, it might have been far worse.” As your walk (you walk or you’re walking) back toward your office, a cry goes up. There in the north, a great gout of black smoke threatens to blot out the sun.
Hungry Snake readily guides you down into the red clay maze that is Echo Canyon. Hungry Snake leads the way down into the canyon. (**Duplicate info?)
All around it lies a patchwork tents (remove a)for a dozen or more. The few rough men you can see would merely squint at death as it approached upon its pale horse.
Every cat needs a name, even if it never comes when you call it. Miss Caraway gives your new feline companion a quick rub of ears. “I’d call him Felix, cause clearly he’s the luckiest of cats to have you.”
“Those are terrible names.” (***only one name was given…should not be plural unless this comment by Schmidt is moved after Carson’s) Old Schmidt shakes his head. “Cats got some pride you know.”
Your skill at predicting your enemies always proved to be an asset to your endeavors. Some opine that you played off both sides, or could read others minds while most thought (missing you) were just plain lucky. But the fact remains that you were often there when you were needed most. One Legend point awarded.
“Yeah, I ain’t to (should be too) sure about that one.” Matthew notes, "I mean, a man who can throw out a storm with a flick of his fingers is more than a stretch for me and I like a good yarn. Brings me to mind the saga of Pecos Bill; now there was a man you could admire what with the taming tornadoes and such. Pure fancy, but fun.
The kiss lasts and last (should be lasts), until at last you must part. But still he leans close, his breath warm and eager. “Len… how I have waited for you.”
Miss Caraway shifts absently in the saddle, clearly eager to be back in a smokey saloon. “I haven’t been out to raid a camp in years… and that ambush on the trail, a whole line of them laid out. Well, that’s how legend (should be legends) are made. Thing is, the Indian’s could’ve gotten more if they’d just been willing to reach for it. Willow, I had a great time out here with you.”
Those are easy enough to rough out in paces. The real trick will (missing be) cutting the boards and then making the seals tight. Its hot out now, but you know it gets cold at night too.
Many Falling Rocks gives a shout and his paiute (should be capped) warriors rise up and give the enemy’s flanks a thrashing. In moments, the enemy attack falls apart and the scatters (missing something here…they scatter or the something scatters) from the field.
“Nicely done.” Marshal James says, “heck, better than that. Bring her (*should be him since I had captured Reginald) over and we’ll have a long chat.”
“Near Oregon? It’ll take a long ride just to find out of (should be if instead of of) ‘might’ means yes.” Marshal James muses. “I mean, we’ve got lots of others to call on. I’d be lucky to get them all.”
Hayworth glances at the others, and notes how Denny basks in your presense,(should be presence) then gazes off into the distance. “The thing of it is… I expect you’ll keep your word. When people talk of you, the (should be they) talk of your absolute adherence to the law. Keeping things running neatly seems to be your true bailiwick though.”
“I hate to see the valley like this.” Schmidt says softly as he regards the work. “I have scars that didn’t ache so.”(Doesn’t quite make sense…Should this be “I have scars that ache so” or “I wish I had scars that didn’t ache so”?)
A glance around back finds three men quietly digging a hole right at the back of your office. The first, a real bruiser, is knee deep in mud. The second is a rangy one (should be that totes?) totes a muddy bucket too and fro. The third, a rifleman, has his back to you as he watches the wrong end of the alley.
“Gather your closes (**closest) friends then. This is hit big or go home.” Marshal James notes, “and I hope to see you soon.”
“No one was supposed to be replaced.” Reginald sighs, “Lander Country (**County) was supposedly without a Marshal. An oversight apparently.”
“You need any candles, Marshal?” Timothy asks, holds up a white bit of tallow. “They boy’s (**the boy’s? What boy) getting better at these, and they burn just fine despite the looks.”
“Three lives… I can’t do it.” Tumbleweed shakes his head, considers something else, “but I can try. Sure Marshal, I go (**should this be I’ll go)to Elko for you.”
“What don’t I, you mean?” Frank gives a grin, says fondly. “Drinking, dancing, cavorting with soiled doves and gambling. Do I love Farro? Every turn could be the one for riches, all for me. When I hit the mother-lode, I got to (**should this be go to?) the Mother-Lode and have my fill of what’s good to be had.”
“Nothing to sell, but perhaps something to give.” He says, leans forward slightly. “Something for the woman who has acts (**is it has the best or acts with the best?) with the best intentions of the heart.”
The wagon is packed, and yet every little box or sack bears a little tag with chinese characters marked upon it. As your (*should be you)watch, he tenders a century egg to an eager your (*should be young?)fellow then sends the man on his way with a kind word.
“I know. Everyone in the Central Pacific knows.” Hayworth says, “Back east there’s Doc Durant trying to have the Union Pacific grabe (*should be grab?)every mile of track he can get. There’s battles being waged in foundries, assembly yards and even in the halls of congress for every scrap of iron, steam engine and vote.”
“I’m surprised they said the name of (*missing the?) show. Out east it is bad luck to so much as mention a syllable of the title.” Yiska notes, “most actors would rather break a bone than speak it.” Elko’s muddy streets (*missing are?) packed. From the outskirts of the grazing fields to the door of the telegraph shack, people from all over the county brush elbows. Well heeled townsfolk, rough leather cowboys, tidy line workers and a smattering of quiet white-shirted farmers all headed towards the theater. There are even a Shoshone and a pair of Chinese to be seen at the edges of things.
The ensuing gunfight is the usual chaos and bedlam. You aren’t certain who shot, but the (*should be they?) only did it because you were busy beating Hartigan about the head with your empty pistol.
Carson absently eyes the horizon. “I’ve got to get heading on back. There is always more work and I’ve been away too long. Can’t believe I’m gotta (*should be either Im gonna or Ive gotta?) tell Millie that I rode to Salt Lake and didn’t even visit family. So, like I said, I’ve got work. But if you need me for some of your badge-work, I’ll come.”
