|Miss Luella and the General (Charles Williamson)|
At 11:00 he finds his way to the stage depot to wait on the Cheyenne Stage from Custer. He dispenses a warm "Welcome to Deadwood!" to the weary travelers as he helps them down to the dusty street. With a crooked smile he gives directions at no charge. Those heavy with silver are encouraged to find Miss Luella in the Silver Spur where she's waitin' with cards in hand to ease their burden. Others get his ponderin' word for the day and directions to the hotel. "You can never tell which way the pickle’s goin’ to squirt" was his thought on picture day.
|The Williamson Ten|
"Back off." Miss Luella was one to always speak her mind to the General. "Two hands NO. You can put one hand right here," she pointed to her shoulder. "And let there be no thoughts about anything else." Miss Luella was not happy with the General. "That dandy you sent over yesterday was a dry well. Hardly worth my time." She snorted, spit, and missed the spittoon.
"Woman, you're missin a good chance to shut up," the General answered and changed his pose by puttin' one hand on her shoulder and the other on his belt pistol. His index finger stroked the trigger. His crooked smile gave away his thinkin'.
Miss Luella grunted. "If you got somethin' to say, say it, but you better have a fast horse awaitin'" The General and Miss Luella bantered back and forth while the photographer powered the flash-pan. There was the sound of horses in the distance.
"That's the stage," Miss Luella sat up. "Take the damn picture, I'm low on cigars and I smell silver."
"Silver and gold," the General corrected Miss Luella's observation.
"Nobody asked you so close yer mouth, yer breath smells like a cow pie on a hot day."
There was a flash and the picture was took...