The year is 1850. The gold rush that has brought untold masses of prospectors from the East and across the sea into the Northern Territories of California have now started to migrate and spill south in their quest for gold. Quite a few of the hardier gold seekers having set up claim along the Porciuncula River and on up into the Sierra Nevada mountains to the north of Los Angeles because of the gold strike in 1848.

I live in this small town called Los Angeles, current population 1610. No wait. Dana killed Frank today so lets make that 1609. It was Frank’s own stupid fault but I’ll get back to that later, maybe.

Now Los Angeles, my home town is a shortened version of its original name El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reina de los Angeles, which means "the pueblo of our lady the queen of angels". Named in 1781 by the then Spanish Governor of the time de Neve.

You would have to admit, Los Angeles’ full name is a bit of a mouth full even for us locals who can speak a little Spanish.

Actually, come to think of it … the ‘ladies’ of the ‘local establishment’, a polite term for our town saloon are often referred to as ‘Kit’s Angels’. Kit being the Queen and all of that fine stop over for gentlemen of business and prospectors who want a good time and are lonely for women. Business is good, real good and Kit and her fallen angels are in the middle of extending the … entertainment facilities. I adore her, Kit is the best singer this town has and is well known around these parts for her hospitality.

That reminds me, I better call in and see how Lenore is doing. Shane told me that Lenore was on the receiving end of one of Bette’s tongue-lashings after the silly old woman ‘borrowed’ Bette’s earrings without asking first. Thank goodness Tina was there to calm things down before things got totally out of hand. I like the preacher’s wife, how Tina makes the time to visit with Kit’s fallen angels is real Christian. I can’t say I like Preacher Henry as much. Rumour has it that they are trying to have a baby.