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Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald

When we say a woman is of a certain social class, we really mean her husband or father is.

0 · 348 views · located in Fort Trinity

a character in “The Ballad of Fort Trinity”, as played by Celedia


Refined, poised, beautiful. The woman reeks of wealth and social status,
one could tell that she has never known the true meaning of manual labor.
Her bassinet was crafted from ivory and lace, her first introduction into the world,
and it has only gotten better for her from there. She is the daughter of a wealthy
cattle baron, John Fyler, and she remained in town until she was old enough to
attend University. That was the last time anyone in Fort Trinity had seen Amelia,
about 10 years ago.

Moving to the East, she attended Brown University for a degree in teaching
and it was there that she met her husband Henry Fitzgerald. Henry was a doctor
that was about 8 years her senior and they were married for many years until an
outbreak of typhus affected their city and her husband died trying to assist with
the numerous patients.

At 28 years old, she had nothing to her name other than the wealth her husband
had left behind and her family back at Fort Trinity. So it was then that she packed
up her belongings, sold her house and ventured back west to be close to kin. Her
father, being an influential man, easily found a job for her at the schoolhouse and
she has just recently arrived back into town.


So begins...

Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Annie Monroe Character Portrait: Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald
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#, as written by Celedia
Early in the morning, a woman in a fashionable navy blue gown swept down the elaborate staircase leading between the two floors of the Fyler house. A small overly adorned hat was perched above her hair that was drawn back into a high ponytail with pin curls barely reaching the nape of her neck. Dressed to the nines for a simple day touring the town, Amelia was greeted on the first floor by a weathered and slender man that bowed at the waist upon her entrance.

“Mrs. Amelia, you look lovely. Your daddy wanted me to take ya into town today to show ya ‘round a bit. Y’know, the school house and perhaps stop by a store or two. He’s gonna be out all day so he says if ya need anything just put it to his account.”

A bright smile flashed across her countenance and she looked positively delighted at the prospect. Ever since she had returned a week ago to her hometown, Amelia hadn’t stepped outside of her father’s house for much more than a morning ride on her palomino and she was eager to see if anything had changed in Fort Trinity in the past 10 years since she had been gone.

“Oh, Levi! You simply must show me everything.” All throughout breakfast and the carriage riding into town, the woman prattled on about everything she recalled. How the hotel was one of the grandest places she had ever seen and the man at the General Store had always given her a candy stick when she visited. The man at the bank was a thin, skeletal man who she swore kidnapped children, a story which now drew laughter from delicate lips but before had always terrified her to the point where she refused to travel into the bank with her father and instead would sit in their carriage until his return.

Levi stayed silent for the most part but occasionally he interjected. The Hotel was no longer around, instead it had been converted into a Casino and though he didn’t warn her about its owner, his tone made her fret; a well bred woman would never step foot into such an establishment so she didn’t know why he would worry so much.

The first stop was the school house, which looked akin to a regular one-story residence were it not for the sign hanging out front. A slim metal key unlocked the front door and chocolate brown eyes eagerly took in her surroundings. It was simple in décor, a large chalk board hung on the far side of the room while rows of tiny desks sat facing a much larger one. Removing her gloves, Amelia wandered slowly, imagining the children sitting, scrawling eagerly upon their own mini slates or reading through their learners. It was what she had gone to university for nearly a decade ago and she was finally putting her skills to good use. She was finally going to be a teacher.

Drawing in a deep breath, she set about taking stock of the supplies, which were pitiful. The schoolbooks were old and falling apart at the seams and the material contained within were years out of date. Not all grade levels were covered by the tomes either and some of them were missing entire sections of pages, as if someone had ripped them out for kindle for the fireplace. She left the schoolhouse a little disheartened though she vowed to see the school house stocked more appropriately before her return.

The rest of the day was spent riding from place to place, quelling her curiosity as well as reacquainting herself with the area. The few people that she had a chance to speak to were polite, yet withdrawn and a few whispered words were spoken behind her back as she moved on to the next store.

“That Fyler’s daughter?”

“Yeah, I ‘eard she’s a widow now. Husband died of the fever or some such. Ain’t that a pity…”

“Oh my. Now she’s stuck back here with the rest of us, aye? No pretty boutiques or society parties to entertain her. Bet she’ll last a month.”

Later that afternoon, while ominous grey clouds rolled in from the northwest, the impeccably dressed woman was frowning fiercely at the storm as it approached as if her countenance alone would ward off the impending rain. “Levi, we’re not going to make it back home. Are we?” A chilled breeze swept beneath her shawl, eliciting a shiver from her slender frame and she drew the cloth closer around her shoulders in response.

“Ain’t look like it, Mrs. Amelia…” The driver’s drawl lapsed for a moment as he urged the horses down the center street of town, his hooded eyes sweeping the surrounding buildings for an establishment that his employer might wish to seek refuge in while they allowed the weather to pass. He would be welcomed in any tavern, casino or hovel within walking distance but the widowed daughter of Fort Trinity’s wealthiest cattle baron was quite a different story.

Drawing the reins back, he eased the horses to a stop with a soft, “Whoa, now…” and the cart halted in front of a trio of buildings. The old library looked empty with its heavy wooden shutters drawn closed against the oncoming winds and rain, a gunsmith’s store to its right which must’ve opened in the past few years and on the library’s left was J.W. Crawford’s barber shop.

“The library…” Amelia murmured to herself more than to Levi, waiting for him to come around and assist her descent from the carriage and when her shoes finally touched the ground, the first droplets of rain began to fall sporadically from the sky. “Is it still open, Levi?” Worry entered her voice as her driver escorted her to the door and it opened easily, signaling their arrival with a trio of dancing silver bells.

“Sounds like it, Mrs. Amelia. You go on in now and I’ll come back ‘round for ya when it clears.” With that, Levi ducked back out of the library and gathered the cart and horses to shelter them away at the stables on the south end of town.

Surprise flitted over Amelia’s elegant features as her gaze soaked in the interior of the library. For such a sleepy little town, she was half expecting what few books the library possessed to be ragged and dusty. Instead, she saw a vast and varied selection of well-tended tomes arranged meticulously upon hand-crafted shelving.

Lips formed a delicate ‘o’ as she seemed to ignore all else to peruse the offerings before her. After being offered the teaching position at the local school, she assumed that she would have to send out east for all her supplemental supplies but maybe, just maybe, she would find everything she needed here instead.

Manicured fingertips traced reverently over the spines of a few of the choices, her mouth moving silently as she read each title. One rather large book caught her eye- one wrapped in brilliant orange cloth. It was a book of children’s poems with colored illustrations, a rare find out here in the west, she was sure of it.


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Annie Monroe Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald
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#, as written by Jag
Maybe it was fear. The sight of the blood-covered Indian stepping out of the shadows, heavy breaths and heavier threats rising above deep footsteps causing the entire floor of the library to creak would be enough to cause anyone a moment's pause for fear. Whatever the cause, the young woman didn't react in the time that it took for Red Hawk Nocona to close the distance between them.

It wasn't until his hands wrapped around the soft flesh of her neck that she finally reacted with a blood-curdling scream. Her body flailed as she tried to pull, push, kick, and squirm her way out of the grasp of the mountainous man, but there was nothing her frail frame could do to escape the death grip that cut off the scream and began to choke the very life from the girl. As the last glimpe of light died on the horizon, the last gasps of life escaped Annie Monroe.

The thud of her body hitting the floor was soon followed by the hulking footsteps of the man crossing over her and staring down at the old man in the corner. Red Hawk lifted a hand, hovering the weapon over the man's sleeping frame for a moment.

"Soon, soon," he spoke, slowly lowering his hand and turning away from the man.

Still, the Indian and the old man were not alone in the old and creaking library. There was another, Red Hawk had heard in his patient waiting, in the next room. Breaking from his resting position and barreling into the other room, the man locked onto the frame of the young woman between him and the front door to the library leading back onto the rain-soaked streets of Fort Trinity. Unlike the plainly-dressed and obviously-poor librarian, this woman carried the look and airs of society. She smelled like the worst of the white women and Nocona's eyes hardened as he stared to pierce the distance between the two of them.

Amelia Fitzgerald stood between Red Hawk and the door, but escape seemed to be far from the man's mind as he towered, blood still draping his body and another death weighing on his hands. He stared. Then he stepped forward.

"Are you going to scream, little woman?"


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald
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#, as written by Celedia
Enraptured with her book of children’s stories, Amelia stood near a single lit candle perched upon a worn wooden counter strewn with paperwork and ledgers. Having assumed that the owner of the establishment was simply too busy to tend to her and with the storm raging outside, the cattle baron’s daughter immersed herself into the tome with the thunderous booms and sheets of rain falling upon the rooftop being her only accompaniment.

Then a sharp sound followed by a strangled gasp. Two faint sounds from the depths of the library drew Amelia from her reverie and for a moment she simply stood, book opened and clasped between smooth fingertips while she tried to discern the source of the interruption.

Tis only my imagination…. She thought, eyes sliding back down to the treasure in her hands but then the unmistakable sound of slow, plodding steps drew her gaze once more.

An Indian. Tales of the savages met her ears often since her return home to her father’s estate. They were one of the largest causes of profit loss for the cattle baron as the roaming tribes took what they needed with little thought as to ownership. Yet, the blood spattered man didn’t look like he was traipsing about looking for sustenance and her mind nearly broke under the weight of her terror as halting English words parted the man’s cracked lips.

"Are you going to scream, little woman?"

Frozen with fear, Amelia’s survival instinct kicked in 5 seconds after her reply.


A simple statement, said in a near whisper before she panicked. Lobbing the heavy book in the general direction of Red Hawk, she grabbed at her skirts, plowing out into the downpour with little thought of what to do other than escape.

A woman’s bloodcurdling scream pierced the rumbling of the tumultuous storm as Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald ran down the street in search of safety, causing her to seek refuge in an establishment that she would otherwise avoid at all costs. But the loud music and raucous laughter hinted at people, many of them. Enough people to drive away the bloody savage with the piercing gaze and towering frame.

Sobs left her throat as she pushed through the doors of the Lonesome Dog, sopping wet and hysterical. One gloved hand pointing outside and while the music halted abruptly and her broken words filled the sudden silence.

“He… He killed someone…” Her chin tucked in close to her chest as she tried desperately to draw breath. “An Indian. I- In the library.”


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald Character Portrait: Doctor (Doc) Oliver McCallister
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#, as written by Jag
Red Hawk Nocona

The silence between them beckoned the darkness of the night, heavy air tingling with the electricity darting through the night sky and permeating the distance between his blood-covered hands and the fair skin of the woman he eyed with vicious intent. The silence was marked only by a distant clap of thunder and a tired groan of the floor beneath them having seen years of stress and seconds of violence, both enough to end a lifetime.


The woman's voice broke the silence. Somewhere in the darkness, the dark man smiled.


The book flew at him, honestly catching the man off his guard in the instant, giving the young woman a chance to flee. Nocona's hand shot up to protect his face, the binding of the book catching a glancing blow at his cheek as the large invader covered his right eye for a moment out of instinct. It was long enough for Amelia to pour into the street. Into the storm, out fo the danger. For now.

Shaking off the blow, Nocona grunted and charged after her, his large frame passing through the door and noticing the last of the young woman's body and skirts diving into the saloon. It would be suicidal to follow her now -- too many white men, too many guns, and too many drinks in their systems for the white devils to avoid pulling the trigger the moment that he appeared. Red Hawk Nocona may have been a man with a death wish, but that wish was set on his own terms and following the girl strayed from the vision he'd been given.

The sound of shoed horsefalls through the mud of the street carried the man's eyes up and meeting the eventual gaze and words of the lawman. It had only been a matter of time until he'd come, only a distance of death to summon the wrath of men who believed their word to be a truth from above destined to rule the hearts and souls of other men. Control was everything to them and Nocona did not fit neatly into the grids and plans by which the white men were so eager to live their lives.

"You're a long way from home!"

Water dripped from the white man's hat as thunder clapped again, this time closer as if heralding the heroic call to action of the man charged with keeping the peace and protecting the innocent from the likes of this savage. Nocona stepped forth from the protection of the library's porch and into the cold rain, beginning to wash away the blood covering him. Some feared the rain, feared the cold, feared the elements. Nocona felt a new strength surge through his body at the sensation of the coming emar.

"This is my home, lawman," Nocona spoke in the broken English that carried the tone and meaning of his words without loss. "Badge and gun you carry does not take my home away forever. Makes you a thief. A sickness."

His hands hung down to his sides, but the mere size of the man and the blood covering his torso gave rise to the threat he carried even if no weapon was visible as he stood in the street.

"Girl inside is dead, lawman. Too weak for what comes. Her spirit free, no suffering. Do not weep for her."


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Red Hawk Nocona Character Portrait: Amelia Fyler Fitzgerald Character Portrait: Daniel Shay Character Portrait: Doctor (Doc) Oliver McCallister Character Portrait: Madeline Whitten
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Maddy smiled. She hadn’t taken the statement as an insult but it was fun to tease the semi-serious man a little. She shook her head as he relaxed.

Her brows knitted together just a little. He had come from the east and not the near east. ”What would have you riding so hard and so long...” She wondered silently as the dirt drifted from his skin into the bath water.

“Looks to me like you brought the entire road in with you.” Maddy stood and moved around the tub to grab a pitcher. She tested the water and found it still warm. “Close yer eyes Daniel.”

She slowly poured the fresh water over his head rinsing away more dirt and the soap.

“Aye, McAllister has been here for a spell now.” Maddy crouched next to the tub. “You going to protect the Doc from the likes of the Gentleman then?” An amused smile on her lips. “Ramsey runs this town. No one makes a move without him knowing.”

Maddy sat back in her chair, her bare feet once again on the edge of the tub. “I don’t know a single thing that Ramsey is afraid of but everyone around here is either working for him or doing their very best to stay on his good side. Might be best to stay out of his way Daniel.”

Her voice was soft and comforting as the man closed his eyes and relaxed in the water. She looked him over and wondered what Ramsey would think of this newcomer.

The room was quiet save for the pattering of the rain. Maddy watched Daniel’s chest rise and fall. Given what he had told her about where he had ridden from and how long he had been on the road she was amazed he had been upright when he had come into the saloon.

She brushed the side of his face gently, keeping her voice low. “When you are done here there is a warm bed waiting f..”

The rest of her comment was cut off but the scream of a woman. It was the kind of sound that makes a person’s heart stop. Maddy stood up quickly and bolted to the door. She opened it and looked out. Up and down the hall others were doing the same fearing it was one of their own. Her mouth was dry but her ears picked up the sound of a commotion downstairs.

A few men were in the hallway now, pulling on shirts and unholstering guns as they rushed down to the main room of the saloon.
Max looked up as the well dressed lady practically stumbled in through the saloon door. She was soaked to the bone and trembling. The scream that had caused the entire saloon to pause must have come from her. He quickly moved from behind the bar to where she stood pointing out the door.

“He… He killed someone…” Her chin tucked in close to her chest as she tried desperately to draw breath. “An Indian. I- In the library.”

At the word Indian many men began to stand, pulling guns and moving to the door. Max and the woman stood in their way. A clattering of footsteps from the stairs added to the new uproar.

“She said Indian and he killed someone!”

A few of the girls gasped fearfully and clung to whoever was near by. Nellie frowned and looked out the window. Max put an arm protectively around the hysterical woman. “Now, none of you are going anywhere. You George, you can barely stand and we don’t know for sure...”

“There is an Indian out there and the Doc’s with him.” Nellie could see the figures down a ways from the saloon.

Max turned to look out the door spotting the figures himself. “Sweet Jesus.”

He pulled the woman away from the door. “Get her a tea Annie or something stronger if she wants it.” He handed Amelia over to the closest girl. She led Amelia to a nearby chair. Max turned and quickly grabbed his rifle from behind the bar. Her stepped outside and a few men now followed him. They stood on the covered porch and waited for some sign from Doc that he needed help.

Maddy heard the word Indian and darted to the window. She pushed the curtain out of the way and looked out the rain streaked glass. “It’s true....”

She turned to look at Daniel. “There is a man out there and the Doc is with him.” Maddy nodded, “I’ll find you some clothes.”