Hurray for N. J.! - Part 1

Good morning FFFs,

The sun is coming up in a clear sky!!! We've had rain or clouds almost all week and we're supposed keep getting rain and clouds starting tomorrow, or several more days. At least they took the snow out for the forecast for Easter. :) The birds are singing and everything is green.

This week has been busy. Not like last week when we had the kids the last three days. This was a different busy. This was an "I can get things done so let's get started" busy. And I have gotten things done. I need 510 more words to reach 5k this week. I sent out my April story to my beta readers, so hopefully I can get that published next week. I've read some, I've send many emails, taught writing classes, planned for an event two weeks from now, pulled out my spring and summer clothes even though I had to leave some long sleeve shirts out. And did other things.

Next week I work as an Election Judge on Tuesday. And next week also starts Camp NaNo! We still have plenty of room in our cabin if anyone is interested in joining me and other Christian young ladies. Anyone? We've already started getting a few sprints in, and are gearing up for April.

Okay, your story. This is based on a play I helped my nieces and nephews do. They wanted to do a play when they were over one time, so I got them all dressed up and had to figure out the story, the characters and what was going on all on the spur of the moment. They loved it! Then I wrote it up in story form. Enjoy the first part!

Hurray for Newsy Jones

Part 1

    It was a lovely morning in Little Silverton. The townsfolk were going about their daily lives, little dreaming of what lay ahead in store for some of them. On the corner of the street Newsy Jones and his sidekick, Curly, were at work selling their papers. A young soldier, his dark hair showing a bit from beneath his infantry cap, stopped, bought a paper, and then continued on down the road.
    Miss Marian, the local librarian, was coming down the street carrying a few books. Miss Marian always had at least one book with her. She nodded a greeting to Sheriff Tompkins and continued her way, her white parasol shading her face from the warm summer sun.
    All at once a shout interrupted the quiet, peaceful morning. “Sheriff!”
    A local rancher, who lived a short distance from town, rushed down the street from the direction of the bank. “Sheriff, the bank’s been robbed!”
    “What?” Sheriff Tompkins sprang from the bench outside his office where he had been cleaning his pistol, and looked around. “What happened? I didn’t see anyone!”
    “They went that-away,” the rancher gasped. “Two of ‘em. They would a shot the teller if he hadn’t given ‘em what they wanted.”
    By this time Miss Marian and Newsy Jones were close by listening.
    “Just two of them, you say?” questioned the sheriff.
    “Yes! Hurry, Sheriff! They got my money!”
    It only took the sheriff a few minutes to get his horse and take off in the direction of the bank robbers, but to those waiting, it felt like hours.
    When the sheriff had disappeared, Miss Marian began to question the rancher. “Are you sure you saw two men?”
    “Yes.”
    “What did they look like?”
    “They had black masks over their faces, but one looked like he might be Mexican, and the other, oh, I don’t know, he might have been an army man. I just don’t know, it happened too quickly.”
    “What were they riding?” persisted the librarian.
    “Horses. Black.”
    “Were they completely black?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at ‘em. I suppose one could’a been dark brown.”
    “Oh, why didn’t you pay more attention to details,” Miss Marian fussed, tucking her books more firmly under her arm and walking off with a frown. She liked to think of herself as a detective, for her favorite stories were mysteries.
    Meanwhile, Newsy Jones, who had hung around to listen to the conversation, walked thoughtfully back to his corner. He knew his paper tomorrow would be carrying the story of the robbery, but he hoped it would include the recovery of the stolen money as well.

    When the sheriff returned in the afternoon, he was dejected. Not only had he not recovered the money, he had found no trace of the robbers. After leaving his horse at the livery, he began to make his way to his office.
    “Sheriff!”
    With a sigh, the sheriff turned around. No doubt Miss Marian would have something to say about his inability to catch the thieves.
    “Sheriff,” the librarian began in low eager tones, “I talked with that rancher after you left. You know, the one who told you about the robbery.”
    The sheriff nodded as Newsy Jones edged up to listen.
    “Well,” Miss Marian went on, not giving Newsy so much as a glance, “he said that one of them might have been a soldier, and sheriff, I noticed that there’s a soldier in town today that I’ve never seen before.” She pointed toward a bench in the town square. “He might know something. And,” she added quickly before the sheriff could move, “the rancher said the other man looked Mexican. You know there was a strange Mexican fellow hanging around town last week–”
    Her sentence remained unfinished, but the sheriff had heard enough. “Thank you, Miss Marian, I’ll go have a talk with them.”
    Satisfied that she had done her job, Miss Marian retired to her library where she could watch everything through her large window.
    Newsy Jones, determined to learn all he could, trailed behind the sheriff as he approached the young soldier who was reading a newspaper.
    “Hey,” Sheriff Tompkins began, “who are you?”
    The soldier looked up in surprise. “Private Sam, of the U.S. Army,” he drawled.
    “Where are you from?” continued the sheriff, his voice gruff and stern.
    “Tennessee.”
    “What are you doing in Little Silverton?”
    “Got a two day pass from the army, an’ jest came ta see the town.”
    “Did you rob the bank?”
    Private Sam looked amused. “Nope, never been in the bank.”
    The sheriff wasn’t done with his questions. “Do you know that Mexican over there?” He jerked his thumb in the direction of a happy-go-lucky Mexican with a large nose, bushy black eyebrows, and a small black mustache, who was cleaning his guns.
    After a careful look, the soldier shook his head. “Nope, never seen him before.”
    “Were you ever in the bank?” the sheriff demanded next.
    “I already said I haven’t been in the bank.” Private Sam was growing irritated.
    Turning abruptly, the sheriff stalked away toward the Mexican, leaving the soldier to shrug at Newsy Jones and return to his paper.
    The Mexican looked up with a grin when the sheriff and Newsy Jones stopped in front of him.
    “Who are you?” The sheriff began his questioning right away.
    “Juan,” was the easy answer.
    “Where are you from?”
    “Me? I’m from Mejico. Cannot you tell with my sombrero and all?”
    “Huh,” grunted the sheriff. “Did you rob the bank this morning?”
    “No, Sheriff, why would I rob the bank? I get my money from the bank, so why should I rob it?”
    “Were you ever in the bank?”
    “Si, I have been many times,” assured Juan, nodding. “But I only go to get money from it, not to steal.”
    “Do you know that soldier over there?”
    Juan leaned around the sheriff to get a better look at the soldier. “No, Sheriff, I do not. Should I?”
    Mumbling something to himself, Sheriff Tompkins turned away, nearly bumping into Newsy Jones.

Do you think Miss Marian is right?

Have you ever written a play before?

Are you doing Camp NaNo?