Kiowa Oil and Gas Ltd. , formed in 1925 and struck gas in 1926. Kiowas oil discovery stimulated renewed interest in the Watchatee Valley Oil field.
In 1927 a pipeline was built to connect Watchatee Valley to Smokey River. In the 1920s the Watchatee Valley Oil field became known as "Hells Cauldron". Suffering from a lack of markets for excess gas, companies in the field burned it off in a giant coulee, hence the name. It is estimated that companies wasted approximately 90 percent of the fields gas in this manner.
***
Evas small heart-shaped locket sparkles under the Northern Studs stage lights. The bauble gently swaying from her neck with every twist and turn of her graceful body on stage. Her dance pole lit in its soft golden glow. Luke Black Elk follows her every move from his corner. Arms folded, long balck hair tied in a tail. Even The Cree would find himself fixated by the girls entrancing dance routine like a man hypnotized by a campfire.
"Dance pole, not strip pole" shed correct people in conversation.
"Im a dancer. Stripping is done by carpenters and meat cutters. Im an artist".
The musky velvet walls of "The Northern Stud" flicker in strobes and rotating mirror balls as serpentine shadows are cast over lustfilled booze hounds and grease soaked oil patch workers. Kiowa Oil and Gas, the biggest operation West of the Watchatee. The brain child of one T .B. McLeod an Eastern native who found wealth and power working on the Hells Acre Valley pipeline in late 1920s.
"Take it off baby!!!" wolf like howls and thunderous clapping , an oil patch worker springs out from a rowdy bunch sitting at a stage side table , mouth open , tongue dancing over his gap toothed smile, a meaty finger over piano keys. He rubs his hands as his eyes dance up and down feverishly taking in Evas beautiful half naked body. He combs his greasy grey hair back with both hands and looking around he jumps on stage making a run at Eva. She lets out a scream as the drunks hands reach out to grab her, but not fast enough. A giant log of an arm clotheslines the man out of no where, slamming him onto the stage. Luke Black Elk , bouncer, stands over the crumpled drunk, arms folded over his massive steamer-trunk chest. The man, eyes popping out, clutches his throat.
I cant breaf you Indian sumabeesh !!!
Eva picks up her silk robe and quickly stands behind Black Elk who casually grabs the man by the seat of his pants and tosses him off the stage like a bail of hay. The drunk flies head first like a rag doll into the middle of a poker game, smashing the table in two . He slowly raises his head, blood and teeth now swimming in his mouth. He slowly turns onto his back amid a stew of table splinters , shards of glass, whiskey and poker chips
"Im gonna kill you!!!" he spits out a gob of blood.
Drunk reaches for a gun pocketed in his snake skin boot but Lukes bowie knife flies across the room like pinning the mans hand to the hardboard floor with a hunters accuracy. In an instant, 3 musclebound Kiowa oil grunts rush the stage jumping Black Elk.. The Cree struggles from the depths of this human mole hill. Eva picks up a chair and blindly smashes it against the pile.
Eva!!! Not me!!! THEM!!! Black Elk jabbs left and right, his long jet black hair fanning out with every swing. Every one of his stone crushing blows landing with a thud, cracking something on someone, painfully.
KA BOOM !
A shotgun blast rattles the windows. Eva stands on stage, smoking 12 gauge shotgun
in her hands, pointed at the ceiling. A chunk of roof board falls on a rigger.
boys either walk yerselves out or... racks the gun
Ill drag you out...either way I win.
Instantly the room is filled with screams , the screech of sliding chairs and the sound of breaking glass as everyone makes a desperate dash for the exit out into the howling blizzard. Luke slowly walks up to the drunk, now screaming like a madman from the pain . Black-Elk ties back his long jet black hair and slowly bends to unlodge his knife from the boards. Cleaning the blood off the blade on his shirt sleeve he utters."You tell Ty Mcleod I aint ever gonna sell, ya hear? Never"
In 1927 a pipeline was built to connect Watchatee Valley to Smokey River. In the 1920s the Watchatee Valley Oil field became known as "Hells Cauldron". Suffering from a lack of markets for excess gas, companies in the field burned it off in a giant coulee, hence the name. It is estimated that companies wasted approximately 90 percent of the fields gas in this manner.
***
Evas small heart-shaped locket sparkles under the Northern Studs stage lights. The bauble gently swaying from her neck with every twist and turn of her graceful body on stage. Her dance pole lit in its soft golden glow. Luke Black Elk follows her every move from his corner. Arms folded, long balck hair tied in a tail. Even The Cree would find himself fixated by the girls entrancing dance routine like a man hypnotized by a campfire.
"Dance pole, not strip pole" shed correct people in conversation.
"Im a dancer. Stripping is done by carpenters and meat cutters. Im an artist".
The musky velvet walls of "The Northern Stud" flicker in strobes and rotating mirror balls as serpentine shadows are cast over lustfilled booze hounds and grease soaked oil patch workers. Kiowa Oil and Gas, the biggest operation West of the Watchatee. The brain child of one T .B. McLeod an Eastern native who found wealth and power working on the Hells Acre Valley pipeline in late 1920s.
"Take it off baby!!!" wolf like howls and thunderous clapping , an oil patch worker springs out from a rowdy bunch sitting at a stage side table , mouth open , tongue dancing over his gap toothed smile, a meaty finger over piano keys. He rubs his hands as his eyes dance up and down feverishly taking in Evas beautiful half naked body. He combs his greasy grey hair back with both hands and looking around he jumps on stage making a run at Eva. She lets out a scream as the drunks hands reach out to grab her, but not fast enough. A giant log of an arm clotheslines the man out of no where, slamming him onto the stage. Luke Black Elk , bouncer, stands over the crumpled drunk, arms folded over his massive steamer-trunk chest. The man, eyes popping out, clutches his throat.
I cant breaf you Indian sumabeesh !!!
Eva picks up her silk robe and quickly stands behind Black Elk who casually grabs the man by the seat of his pants and tosses him off the stage like a bail of hay. The drunk flies head first like a rag doll into the middle of a poker game, smashing the table in two . He slowly raises his head, blood and teeth now swimming in his mouth. He slowly turns onto his back amid a stew of table splinters , shards of glass, whiskey and poker chips
"Im gonna kill you!!!" he spits out a gob of blood.
Drunk reaches for a gun pocketed in his snake skin boot but Lukes bowie knife flies across the room like pinning the mans hand to the hardboard floor with a hunters accuracy. In an instant, 3 musclebound Kiowa oil grunts rush the stage jumping Black Elk.. The Cree struggles from the depths of this human mole hill. Eva picks up a chair and blindly smashes it against the pile.
Eva!!! Not me!!! THEM!!! Black Elk jabbs left and right, his long jet black hair fanning out with every swing. Every one of his stone crushing blows landing with a thud, cracking something on someone, painfully.
KA BOOM !
A shotgun blast rattles the windows. Eva stands on stage, smoking 12 gauge shotgun
in her hands, pointed at the ceiling. A chunk of roof board falls on a rigger.
boys either walk yerselves out or... racks the gun
Ill drag you out...either way I win.
Instantly the room is filled with screams , the screech of sliding chairs and the sound of breaking glass as everyone makes a desperate dash for the exit out into the howling blizzard. Luke slowly walks up to the drunk, now screaming like a madman from the pain . Black-Elk ties back his long jet black hair and slowly bends to unlodge his knife from the boards. Cleaning the blood off the blade on his shirt sleeve he utters."You tell Ty Mcleod I aint ever gonna sell, ya hear? Never"
