Patterson’s Plight

Irving Patterson sighed.

The long deep sigh of the dejected and put upon.

As he walked through the town square he mused upon how his life had come to this.

“Irving I need you to go to the R&D ranch”

“Irving you’re needed at the Circle M”

“Why are you still here, you should be out at the Blake Ranch”

Always the same, day in day out. Never given a chance to rest as Mrs Morgan or Maxwell always seem to be ready with yet another errand to run, somewhere else for him to be.

Making sure the ranches run smooth, he could understand that. A lot of the Morgan Corporation’s financial interests are invested in the cattle of Gomorra (he tried not to think about the things Kyle Wagner had been tasked to do). That’s what he’d signed on for after all, to ensure everything ran smoothly.

Things he had not signed up for included babysitting “Miss” Morgan, fetching her clothes from Yan Li’s or picking up whatever trivial things she wanted from the General Store.

“20 years ranchin'” He grumbled as he approached the Mayor’s Office. “20 years!”.

Why he had been sent to this particular building he had no idea. News all over town was that both candidates were dead, there wasn’t likely to be a mayor anytime soon the Law Dogs were chasing down members of the Sloane gang and Phil Swinford hadn’t been seen for a couple of days.

However here he was nonetheless. For whatever reason that might be.

Irving headed inside. The building, unsurprisingly, was deserted. He headed for the Mayoral Office itself and looked around. Overly luxurious chairs faced an intricately carved table in the centre of the room. Heavy drapes hung at the enormous window that looked out directly over the Town Square.

Quite the palace. He let himself consider a moment of “might have been” as he reflected that in another life he could have sat in this office. He brushed the notion away almost as quickly as it arrived. No, he belonged out in the open air, working land and beast. He was far too down to earth for a position like mayor, besides, then more people would want him to run errands all the time.

He took a seat at the table and waited. Whatever Mrs Morgan wanted here would no doubt become apparent at some point, it always did eventually.

Lifting his feet to rest on the table as he took another look around the silent, still, room. He leaned back in the too soft for comfort chair, and sighed.