New Year, new problems

So now, where did i leave off? Ah yes, that's right, I was regaling you about how the kid grew up. Ever since than, the kid has been going by Kennen. Turns out he has some Talent, he can ken whats going on in a place a moment before he gets there. Helps him fierce in a gunfight, too.
Towns back to shape, shaping up real nice. Even hired a pianist, just got here from Alabama, or so he says. Calls himself Sahmuel Freeman. Now, I am not one to ask question, especially out here in the west, but I have seen manacle scars before and the crown states are not known to let many a freeman walk out. But I have said enough about that, and if Mule (ya didn't expect him to be called sam, now did ya?) tells me something, i have no reason to call it into question. Anyhow, he plays the piano like a charm and his voice is like a jaybirds.
A good portion of the towns health and welfare was a result of Marshall Evret. He was sent to retrieve Xavier, and when he found we had done the job but had no competent lawmen in town, he decided to sit a spell. Glad he did, truth be told. A few of the buildings in the town were cursed, and it takes a hex to cure a jinx, or so the saying goes.

Not more than a month after the last hassle, in walks Fierce Clem. Clem was a canadian, and it is rumored that his father was none other than the bear spirit. Seeing him in the doorway, I had a feeling the rumor was only half-wrong - it was probably his grandpa, not his pa, he had a look of France and of ten nations in him as well. Needless to say, he had a hefty Canadian bounty on his head. Something to do with kicking a Mounty off his horse and hightailing it south with a sack of gold. Probably no regrets neither.

Well, none of the pub's riff-raff wanted to mess with a folktale, and I run a bar so I could spit and have a dollar, so I figured I would hear his story. He walked up to the bar and sat down. he might have been lighter than he looked, because the bar stool didn't break, but that might have just been the stool. I buy solid equipment, never know when you will need to use it to slap a fellow around. So, he steps up to the counter and he asks me for a bourbon. While I am pouring it, he adds a question that catches me off guard. Evidently, Clem was on the prowl for Mr. Theodore M. Bellsmith. I knew Mr. Bellsmith, but wasn't quite sure if I wanted to answer. See, the M stood for Montana.