I’ve been working on a “history” book and this is the first chapter

This is just the first few pages of the 50 I’ve written thus far. I think the end result will be a little over 100 pages. Thanks for your patience, I AM working on videos and will see you soon.

Gregory Atwell was a heartless bastard who wouldn’t know a righteous thought if God Almighty wrote it on a bullet and fired it through his worthless excuse for a mind. He was, consequently, quite wealthy.

He made his considerable fortune by way of a ponzi scheme, although there was no name for it at the time. The term Ponzi scheme was named after Charles Ponzi who was caught engaging in this fraudulent practice in 1910. He was not the first to engage in such fraud, but he was quite bad at it, and was therefore the first to get caught.

Gregory Atwell was a professional bastard, and therefore knew when to hightail it out of Boston Massachusetts with his foolish investor’s money to Texas. Once there, Mr. Atwell bought 100 acres of some of the finest ranchland money could buy. Of course, Mr. Atwell did not know how to nor did he intend to raise cattle. Simply put, he figured it was a good investment. Although it became a much better investment once he’d hired some guns to drive off the Karankawa.

It was on Atwell ranch that this heartless bastard dabbled in several rewarding hobbies, such as: farting around, doing doodly-squat, and lounging about. Never was there a moment that Mr. Atwell wasted on something worth doing, as he elected instead to sleep and eat and drink. Although, he occasionally headed into the nearby town of Attics so he could do those same things where working men could bear witness.

But on the crisp winter morning of December 14th, 1866, Mr. Atwell decided, in a rare fit of innocent whimsy, to take a walk about his property. On this morning, Mr. Atwell watched the sun rise over the Nueces River which ran just 100 yards behind his home.

It was a beautiful sight which would inspire Atwell in a way the hungry grey streets of Boston never had. The air was cool and invigorating, and the golden light of a new day’s sun painted the Nueces the vibrant oranges and reds of Indian Paintbrush. There was no sky more pure, no dawn more beautiful, no moment more serene than that one. It was so serene, in fact, that Mr. Atwell did not notice the three bandidos riding up behind him with greed in their hearts and fury in their eyes.

Their leader aimed for the head, but was roaring drunk. When hammer struck powder, the lead ripped Atwell’s miserable jaw off his body. It was as if the vengeful hand of the Lord God Himself had tried to backhand decency into the wretch. Unfortunately for Gregory Atwell, the shot did not kill him, and bullets were expensive. As Atwell was incapacitated enough for the bandido’s purposes, they proceeded to rifle through his pockets while he squirmed about and choked on blood and bone fragments in a manner that can most charitably be described as undignified. Unable to locate any money on Atwell’s whimpering person, the bandidos moved onto his home. Save for several bottles of liquor and a handsome but cheap decanter, they saw nothing worth taking.

Atwell’s riches were, of course, mostly in the land, his liver, and another place beyond the Bandidos' grasps. They rode off in frustration, mourning the loss of their bullet, as Atwell choked to death on the ruined remains of his face.

It was here, on this blessed and burning river, that Mr. Atwell’s story ended, and the Legend of La Dorda began.

Atwell’s jaw was wealthier than any of those bandidos would ever be, as he had never taken good care of his teeth. Following his flight from Boston, Atwell had a Dentist in St. Louis install enough gold fillings to make his mouth worth more than the entire economy of some small nation-states, and these gold-capped teeth were now being carried down the Nueces, towards the Gulf of Mexico.

The Daughters of Babylon, a small religious cooperative, were just a few hours downstream of Atwell’s body. These pious and peculiar people were on their way to settle in Utah, and had just arisen to break camp and get back on the trail. While washing his face in the river water, a young boy by the name of Charles Trayver, found 6 of these gold fillings, which had become separated from Atwell’s teeth.

This young man excitedly informed his family that God had bestowed upon him a divine blessing. Word of the gold quickly spread through the community, and so they rushed into the river, hoping that God would bestow upon them gold as well.

A one-legged veteran of the Civil War named George Cromwell found 4 fillings.

A former slave by the name of Kenneth Westerling found 3 fillings.

And an unpopular and homely young woman by the name of Heather Browning found 2 fillings. On these fillings, however, the teeth and jaw fragment remained attached.

The remaining four fillings were never found. They washed out into the Gulf of Mexico, where they could never hurt anyone ever again.

The Daughters of Babylon decided to settle on this spot, believing the river to be rich in gold, and the blessing of God which had bestowed it upon them. They decided to name their town after the fabled Aztec city of gold:

La Dorda.