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Johanna Baker

Co-owner of the Silver Spur Saloon

0 · 240 views · located in Splitcreek, Arizona

a character in “Westward Bound”, as played by Totchocity1

Description

Given Name: Johanna Mary Baker

Nickname: Jo, but only by her brother

Gender: Female

Age: 23

Good guy or bad guy? Explain: Johanna firmly believes herself to be good. While she does have a bit of a wild streak, she is every bit as generous and caring as her brother

Position/occupation: Owner of Silver Spur Saloon/Tutor

Personality: Unlike her brother, Johanna doesn't feel the need to hide any of her natural charm. She is known for her friendly nature and quick wit. Outwardly, she has little regard for what is proper or accepted, but she secretly loves to have the approval of her peers. Because of Oliver's deep aversion to violence, Johanna has become the one to defend the both of them, even learning how to shoot a gun to protect them.

Skills:
Fairly skilled at using a pistol
Knowledge of school subjects and ability to teach them
Playing piano

History:
Johanna grew up with a very privileged life. She lived in Bellevue, Nebraska, with her wealthy parents, finished her schooling quickly, and got her teaching certificate at 15. She was very close with her half brother, despite living completely opposite lifestyles. Although her parents never had to work for anything, they were very neglectful, and Johanna was raised mostly by servants. She always resented the way her father ignored her and treated Oliver badly, and her mother was always busy planning and attending the next big society party. After Oliver's mother died, Johanna convince him to take her farther west as he was the only one she trusted and she knew she couldn't make it on her own. They ended up in Splitcreek, and she never looked back.

Personal relationships: Johanna knows just about everyone in town, but she's only truly close with Oliver.

Appearance: Johanna is a small, slight woman (5'2"). She has a very youthful appearance with a round face and a button nose. She has long, curly brown hair. People have always said her large hazel eyes are her best feature, framed with thick, long, dark lashes.

Image

Writing sample:
Lately, Johanna had noticed the Hope boy looking at her strangely. She tried not to be afraid of him, but he was older and quite surly. Everyone usually avoided him on account of he had a bad attitude and no father. Johanna's mother, especially, seemed to hate him for it. Another day of school and she still caught him glancing across the one-room school house. When the teacher finished class for the day, Johanna looked down at her desk to gather her things. By the time she looked up, Oliver had his hands on either side of her desk and his eyes drilling into her head.

"I can walk you home," he offered. "If you want." Johanna's mouth was dry, but she managed to nod. She didn't want to offend him by turning him down. He pushed off her desk and marched to the open door without checking to see if she was following. She was anyway.

She'd been nervous before, but when he turned the opposite way of town, she began to think she may never make it home. When she caught up enough to walk side by side with him, he finally looked at her again.

"Taking a different way," he said simply. Johanna mustered all the "fiery spirit" people always commented on.

"The long way?" she asked. Oliver stopped in his tracks and stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Do you know that I am your brother?" he asked suddenly, his voice quiet and gentle like she'd never heard it before.

She shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense," she told him, emboldened by his ridiculous assertion. They just stood there for a moment, looking each other in the eyes. She'd never noticed how sad his looked.

After what felt like an eternity, Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "Ask your father. Maybe he'll tell you."

So begins...

Johanna Baker's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan "Doc" Crowe Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Samuel Cole Character Portrait: Johanna Baker Character Portrait: Oliver Hope Character Portrait: Sheriff Clifton Wheelock
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Oliver wiped the handkerchief across his brow, the sweat trying to force its way into his eyes. Shoving the cotton square in his pocket, he pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows and out of the way before hoisting the barrel onto his shoulder. Jo's fingers tapped a quick beat out on the railing behind the saloon.

"You could help," Oliver suggested. Jo laughed aloud.

"Now why would I help when I have you to do all the heavy lifting?" she asked playfully. He just sighed and hauled the barrel up the steps. All the other saloons were cutting their whiskey with turpentine or gunpowder, but the Old Man had never done that. So Oliver and Johanna never did it. In fact, they were almost religious about keeping the Silver Spur the same way he had kept it. Very little had changed. Neither sibling could decide if they were honoring the man that helped them when they needed it most or if they just weren't quite ready to let go of the way he did things. Or to let go of him.

One by one, Oliver rolled the barrels onto the back deck. He would load them behind the bar in the evening, but at the moment they needed to get back to the bar. Ed could handle a lot of shit, but leaving anyone alone to run the Silver Spur for too long was just asking for the kind of trouble that brought buildings down in flames.



Jo traipsed through the doors behind her brother. "Late breakfast, boys?" she greeted the men at her bar counter. She stopped in front of the stranger, ignoring the dramatic goings on of those she already knew. There'd be time enough for that any day. "You're new. You should answer him," she said in reference to Morgan's query. Oliver huffed a laugh from where he was cleaning abandoned glasses off the tables, but he didn't say anything to stop his sister from prying. After all, he was curious too. He'd take any way that he could satisfy his mind and still save some face.

"Yer cheating!" Oliver's head whipped around to find the gambler clobbering the table with his grubby fist and yelling. "Yer a goddamned theif! Ain't nobody that lucky!" Johanna's back straightened, and her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Watch yourselves over there," Oliver snapped, but the gambler pulled out his pistol on the woman anyway. Guns were not something Oliver was really ever prepared to deal with. Drunks, yes, arguments, yes, but guns made him freeze up every time.

Johanna's hand found her own pistol under the bar, the rest of her body not moving an inch.

"You know the rules," she said. "If you're in here, you're pistol's in its holster. I'd hate for something bad to happen, and I'm sure the sheriff here would hate to have his breakfast get cold."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan "Doc" Crowe Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Samuel Cole Character Portrait: Johanna Baker Character Portrait: Oliver Hope Character Portrait: Sheriff Clifton Wheelock
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Sam kept eating for a moment longer before wiping his mouth and chin. Cocking an eyebrow a little when more dust came off than anything else. He looked over to the doctor for a moment before nodding and offering the man a handshake. "I reckon I'll be trying my best to stay out of any trouble. 'Specially with the sheriff. I'm Sam, Sam Cole" He said, chuckling a little before eating some more.

"As for what brings me here?" Sam thought for a moment. "I guess it was just time for a change of scenery. Got tired of shoveling coal into a fire box all day, even if it did pay good. Heard about this place and figured I might be able to make a little pay. Might even settle." He told the older man and the young woman who'd joined their conversation, pulling out a simple looking pocket watch with the Union Pacific Rail Road logo on it. He had a little money saved up, enough to buy a plot of land he figured, traveling like he did, you didn't spend a lot of money. He noticed that the young woman seemed fairly interested in hearing what he had to say, figuring that it was just part and parcel since she was working behind the bar. News was news, and a new face showing up in town was always of interest to others.

"Yer Cheating!" Sam heard the drunken man call out behind him. He slipped the pocket watch back into his vest pocket as soon as the commotion started behind him. He turned around in his bar stool, watching as the man slammed a fist down onto the table, staring at the woman across from him. Poker chips and cards clattered to the floor from the force.
The woman looked about as rough and trail worn as he figured he did, her braid had bits and ends sticking out at angles, and her face and clothes were streaked with dust. She hurriedly stuffed the money into her pocket and said something to the man.

As soon as the drunks hand went for his pistol, Sam slipped his hand down carefully, unbuckling his holster to free his gun to draw. He watched the exchange closely, waiting for the sheriff to take action first.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Morgan "Doc" Crowe Character Portrait: Wildcat Kate Character Portrait: Samuel Cole Character Portrait: Johanna Baker Character Portrait: Oliver Hope Character Portrait: Sheriff Clifton Wheelock
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#, as written by Coupons
The sheriff was calmly eating his meal until the card game went wrong. All of the locals knew him as the quiet type; though usually friendly enough, he was a man of few words. Upon hearing news of the boy, “I’m real sorry to hear about that,” was the only reply which came. Once iron cleared leather, though, Clif put down his fork, turned towards the commotion, stood up from the stool, and spoke some carefully-selected words. “You just put that gun down on the table, now.” His voice was calm, but authoritative. His hands made no motion for his gun, his arms hanging idly by his sides. “If I think you’ve been cheated, I’ll see you get your money back, but you let me get a feel for that stranger first, before you go shooting her. Alright? Whatever happens, your worst choices start with pulling that trigger. I mean, sure, you could shoot her, shoot me, and shoot whoever else you think is a threat, but you ain’t got enough bullets to keep yourself from running, in the end. Nobody wants that. . . Not even you, if you think real hard about it. . . She ain’t worth it, and neither’s that money, so put it down.”

Out of words he thought might be useful, the sheriff just took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His hand drifted slowly to rest on the grip of his pistol as he exhaled slowly, just listening to the quiet stirring of the saloon. He hoped that quiet wasn’t the last he’d hear before his life was snuffed out in a flash of drunken anger. He’d been ready to die for a long time, truth be told. If he went now, he’d be fine to retell his own story on the other side, whether he arrived at the gates to Heaven or Hell. He was content, and he’d lived a good life, and that was all he could have hoped for, until now. Now his only hope was that what he’d said would get that man to put down his gun, and that he’d live to see mid-day.

cron