Writing Sample #3
I wanted cowboys and this is what came about. Here is my attempt at Westen!
Jack sat well hidden below a tree from the scorching desert sun. Besides him Lucy, his trusty companion, was drinking from the almost dried up river. The mere was happily munching on what little green grass she could find. He smiled; despite the heat, he was enjoying his day. There was nothing better than being able to sit under a tree and just simply carve anything that came to mind. Jack didn’t need anything out of life other than wood, Lucy, and his pistol. Though, he could do without that vermin, Simon, always being there. It was like the bastard was following him around; no matter what little town Jack stumbled across, Simon was right on his tail causing trouble.
Feeling sour, Jack shoved the piece of wood, which was slowly transforming into a little wooden version of Lucy, into his pocked. It was almost time for the sun to set, and he wanted to make it to the nearest hotel before all the cheap ones were full. He pulled on Lucy’s reins, guiding her away from the water.
She gave him a dirty look.
“Don’t look at me like that girl, it’s gettin’ late and I for one ain’t gone’t be out here when the winds start up. So how’s about we find you a nice barn?”
The town couldn’t have been more than a few miles south, so he didn’t bother climbing his horse; she had enough to carry with all his life’s belonging being on her back and all. By the time he’d finally arrived, he was parched and ready to drop down; Lucy wasn’t in any better a shape. He tossed the stable boy, who looked to be about ten, a nice sized coin and told him to get Lucy settled in. The kid nodded enthusiastically and immediately got to doing what he was supposed to.
With Lucy taken care of, Jack was free to wonder into the town’s only hotel. The reactions he received upon entering were not what he was expecting. The room went quiet, which was never a good sign; every eye was on him, from the crusty gamblers to the dirty whores. He grimaced; he wasn’t looking for trouble, just a place to sleep where he wouldn’t get shot up and robbed in the middle of the night.
A cheap looking woman in a red dress that left nothing to the mind walked up to Jack with a confident way about her. “Well hello there cowboy, we don’t get many visitors here, and that’s no accident.” She wrapped an arm around him. “You look like a smart fellow to me, so you must know when you’re not wanted around.”
Jack resisted the urge to push her away. Everyone was watching him with a sharp eye; the smallest wrong move could have him welcoming future visitors with a noose around a broken neck. “Ma’am, I promise you, all I’m looking for is a bed and I’ll be gone before you know I was here.” He made sure to speak loudly enough so the rest could also hear him.
“We don’t mean to be uninviting an all, it’s just that we had a visitor just like you last night an’ all he wanted was a bed to sleep in, can you imagine that. Bastard didn’t mention he was going to be taking it with him s’all.”
He gritted his teeth; the situation had Simon written all over it. That bastard was always causing trouble. “Then I’ll be on my way, but if it won’t inconvenience you much, I’d like a drink.”
The woman in red gave him a measuring look before nodding. “Hey Jesse, give the man what he needs and send ‘im on his way.”
With a bottle of whiskey in one hand and Lucy’s reins in the other, Jack made his way out of the little town, huffing and puffing unhappily along the way. He was going to shoot Simon in the foot the next time that stupid yellow-bellied ass crossed his way.
He was the furthest thing from surprised when he stumbled across a built fire and found Simon resting behind it. Simon had his six gun pointed at Jack the second he was within shooting range. He was still as quick as Jack remembered him.
“Well, well, if it ain’t lil’ Jackie Hall.” Simon’s mouth opened into a wide roguish grin, the fact that it was the only thing showing under his hat making it that much worse. Jack wasn’t even sure how the man had managed to see him.
“Put that six-shooter down, you dirty bastard.”
Simon lowered his pistol, but he didn’t put it away. “You’re pretty as always Miss, but with a temper like that you ain’t ever going to get yourself a man.”
Jack wanted to wipe that condescending smirk off of Simon’s face, but a promise was a promise. “If it weren’t for your ma, God bless her soul, I would’a turned you into the sheriff a long time-“
Simon grimaced and finally let his gun fall to the ground. “My pretty face wouldn’t do well in jail, mama knew that.”
Jack snorted. “I bargain that if she knew what you’ve become she wouldn’t a made me take care of you.”
“You ain’t got to keep promises to the dead,” Simon muttered under his hat. “But it isn’t like you’ve got anything better to do.”
“There is plenty I can be doing other than keeping your hide alive.”
Simon fixed his hat so that it was no longer covering his face and quirked a brow at Jack. “Hm…”
“If it weren’t for you.” Jack took the time to sit down in front of the fire across from Simon. “I’d of found me the prettiest girl on this side of the Colorado and we’d be having our own brood by now to take care of Papa’s farm.”
Simon’s laugh started like distant thunder, growing and rumbling close enough to shake the earth. He was clutching his stomach and whipping at his eyes. “Well it that ain’t the funniest thing I ever did hear. Don’t give me none of that Jackie, you ain’t the marrying type, you ain’t even the farming sort.”
His fingers dug at the dirt beneath him to keep them distracted. It would be too fucking easy to just pull out the pistol and end it right there. “Now you shut up Simon Benedict.”
“Whoo, you’re always good for a laugh Jackie.”
“I’m not making fun, just leave it.” Jack pulled out his gun and pointed it a Simon’s head. “I ain’t kidding.”
“Now don't you do something we're both gunna regret Jackie." Simon sat up straight, knocking his hat from his head.
Jack let his gun fall. His eyes were fixed on what he could see of Simon in the dim light. His left side, which had previously been covered with his arm, was completely saturated with blood. “You’re already hurt.”
“’s nothing.” Simon shrugged his right shoulder. “Damn bitch missed.”
“Dumb bastard.” He shook his head. “Can’t you go a week without getting stabbed?”
Simon’s eyes followed Jack as he got up and headed over to where Lucy was tied up with his pack still hanging off her saddle. “Wasn’t stabbed. Bullet flew right by me; the lady couldn’t hit a bull’s ass with a handful of banjos.”
“Take off your shirt.” He was busy wetting a cloth with alcohol and ignoring Simon’s little story.
“It’s no problem.”
“You have a fucking hole on your side and you try to tell me it ain’t a problem?” Jack rose up his arms in frustration. “Take off your damned shirt and shut the hell up.”
“Demanding ain’t you?” Simon chucked, but removed his shirt anyway. “She missed, mostly.”
Jack bent down next to Simon so he could closely examine his wound. He wiped it with the damp cloth, causing the hurt man to whimper in pain. Simon was always the braver of the two, so he tried not to make too much of a protest. Once cleaned, the wound didn’t seem too frightening. It was deep, but it had already stopped bleeding.
“You got any bandages?” Jack asked pressing the cloth against Simon’s side. Simon just shook his head no. “And you say you can keep your hide alive. Here hold this.”
Jack didn’t have any bandages either, so he just tore up one of his older cotton shirts. His ma would be madder than an old wet hen if she were to find out, but it was probably better than letting Simon bleed to death. “You owe me a new shirt.” The material tore easily into strips. He tired two strips together making one long enough to wrap around Simon’s side.
“I like ya shirtless anyway.”
Jack rolled his eyes and stepped away from Simon. “All that nibblin’s gotten to your head.”
“Hm, I reckon so. Nothing sleep can’t fix.” Simon slouched down until he was lying flat on his back. He didn’t bother with putting his hat or shirt back on.
Jack also settled down into the cold dirt, with only his sac as a pillow. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be sleeping in a nice warm bed tonight.”
“I did you a favor,” Simon said. “They ain’t much for hospitality.”
“Don’t give a shit ‘bout hospitable as long as it’s warm.” He yawned, more than ready to fall asleep.
“I’ll keep ya warm,” Simon leered from his side of the camp.
Jack was only human, so he had to admit that it wasn’t all that bad of an offer, but it was still Simon. It didn’t matter how good looking the fella was. He was still the same pain in the ass from Jack’s childhood. “No.” His answer was dry, hopefully dry enough to repel any of Simon’s clever little replies.
“Whatever suits your fancy, cowboy.”
Jack sat well hidden below a tree from the scorching desert sun. Besides him Lucy, his trusty companion, was drinking from the almost dried up river. The mere was happily munching on what little green grass she could find. He smiled; despite the heat, he was enjoying his day. There was nothing better than being able to sit under a tree and just simply carve anything that came to mind. Jack didn’t need anything out of life other than wood, Lucy, and his pistol. Though, he could do without that vermin, Simon, always being there. It was like the bastard was following him around; no matter what little town Jack stumbled across, Simon was right on his tail causing trouble.
Feeling sour, Jack shoved the piece of wood, which was slowly transforming into a little wooden version of Lucy, into his pocked. It was almost time for the sun to set, and he wanted to make it to the nearest hotel before all the cheap ones were full. He pulled on Lucy’s reins, guiding her away from the water.
She gave him a dirty look.
“Don’t look at me like that girl, it’s gettin’ late and I for one ain’t gone’t be out here when the winds start up. So how’s about we find you a nice barn?”
The town couldn’t have been more than a few miles south, so he didn’t bother climbing his horse; she had enough to carry with all his life’s belonging being on her back and all. By the time he’d finally arrived, he was parched and ready to drop down; Lucy wasn’t in any better a shape. He tossed the stable boy, who looked to be about ten, a nice sized coin and told him to get Lucy settled in. The kid nodded enthusiastically and immediately got to doing what he was supposed to.
With Lucy taken care of, Jack was free to wonder into the town’s only hotel. The reactions he received upon entering were not what he was expecting. The room went quiet, which was never a good sign; every eye was on him, from the crusty gamblers to the dirty whores. He grimaced; he wasn’t looking for trouble, just a place to sleep where he wouldn’t get shot up and robbed in the middle of the night.
A cheap looking woman in a red dress that left nothing to the mind walked up to Jack with a confident way about her. “Well hello there cowboy, we don’t get many visitors here, and that’s no accident.” She wrapped an arm around him. “You look like a smart fellow to me, so you must know when you’re not wanted around.”
Jack resisted the urge to push her away. Everyone was watching him with a sharp eye; the smallest wrong move could have him welcoming future visitors with a noose around a broken neck. “Ma’am, I promise you, all I’m looking for is a bed and I’ll be gone before you know I was here.” He made sure to speak loudly enough so the rest could also hear him.
“We don’t mean to be uninviting an all, it’s just that we had a visitor just like you last night an’ all he wanted was a bed to sleep in, can you imagine that. Bastard didn’t mention he was going to be taking it with him s’all.”
He gritted his teeth; the situation had Simon written all over it. That bastard was always causing trouble. “Then I’ll be on my way, but if it won’t inconvenience you much, I’d like a drink.”
The woman in red gave him a measuring look before nodding. “Hey Jesse, give the man what he needs and send ‘im on his way.”
With a bottle of whiskey in one hand and Lucy’s reins in the other, Jack made his way out of the little town, huffing and puffing unhappily along the way. He was going to shoot Simon in the foot the next time that stupid yellow-bellied ass crossed his way.
He was the furthest thing from surprised when he stumbled across a built fire and found Simon resting behind it. Simon had his six gun pointed at Jack the second he was within shooting range. He was still as quick as Jack remembered him.
“Well, well, if it ain’t lil’ Jackie Hall.” Simon’s mouth opened into a wide roguish grin, the fact that it was the only thing showing under his hat making it that much worse. Jack wasn’t even sure how the man had managed to see him.
“Put that six-shooter down, you dirty bastard.”
Simon lowered his pistol, but he didn’t put it away. “You’re pretty as always Miss, but with a temper like that you ain’t ever going to get yourself a man.”
Jack wanted to wipe that condescending smirk off of Simon’s face, but a promise was a promise. “If it weren’t for your ma, God bless her soul, I would’a turned you into the sheriff a long time-“
Simon grimaced and finally let his gun fall to the ground. “My pretty face wouldn’t do well in jail, mama knew that.”
Jack snorted. “I bargain that if she knew what you’ve become she wouldn’t a made me take care of you.”
“You ain’t got to keep promises to the dead,” Simon muttered under his hat. “But it isn’t like you’ve got anything better to do.”
“There is plenty I can be doing other than keeping your hide alive.”
Simon fixed his hat so that it was no longer covering his face and quirked a brow at Jack. “Hm…”
“If it weren’t for you.” Jack took the time to sit down in front of the fire across from Simon. “I’d of found me the prettiest girl on this side of the Colorado and we’d be having our own brood by now to take care of Papa’s farm.”
Simon’s laugh started like distant thunder, growing and rumbling close enough to shake the earth. He was clutching his stomach and whipping at his eyes. “Well it that ain’t the funniest thing I ever did hear. Don’t give me none of that Jackie, you ain’t the marrying type, you ain’t even the farming sort.”
His fingers dug at the dirt beneath him to keep them distracted. It would be too fucking easy to just pull out the pistol and end it right there. “Now you shut up Simon Benedict.”
“Whoo, you’re always good for a laugh Jackie.”
“I’m not making fun, just leave it.” Jack pulled out his gun and pointed it a Simon’s head. “I ain’t kidding.”
“Now don't you do something we're both gunna regret Jackie." Simon sat up straight, knocking his hat from his head.
Jack let his gun fall. His eyes were fixed on what he could see of Simon in the dim light. His left side, which had previously been covered with his arm, was completely saturated with blood. “You’re already hurt.”
“’s nothing.” Simon shrugged his right shoulder. “Damn bitch missed.”
“Dumb bastard.” He shook his head. “Can’t you go a week without getting stabbed?”
Simon’s eyes followed Jack as he got up and headed over to where Lucy was tied up with his pack still hanging off her saddle. “Wasn’t stabbed. Bullet flew right by me; the lady couldn’t hit a bull’s ass with a handful of banjos.”
“Take off your shirt.” He was busy wetting a cloth with alcohol and ignoring Simon’s little story.
“It’s no problem.”
“You have a fucking hole on your side and you try to tell me it ain’t a problem?” Jack rose up his arms in frustration. “Take off your damned shirt and shut the hell up.”
“Demanding ain’t you?” Simon chucked, but removed his shirt anyway. “She missed, mostly.”
Jack bent down next to Simon so he could closely examine his wound. He wiped it with the damp cloth, causing the hurt man to whimper in pain. Simon was always the braver of the two, so he tried not to make too much of a protest. Once cleaned, the wound didn’t seem too frightening. It was deep, but it had already stopped bleeding.
“You got any bandages?” Jack asked pressing the cloth against Simon’s side. Simon just shook his head no. “And you say you can keep your hide alive. Here hold this.”
Jack didn’t have any bandages either, so he just tore up one of his older cotton shirts. His ma would be madder than an old wet hen if she were to find out, but it was probably better than letting Simon bleed to death. “You owe me a new shirt.” The material tore easily into strips. He tired two strips together making one long enough to wrap around Simon’s side.
“I like ya shirtless anyway.”
Jack rolled his eyes and stepped away from Simon. “All that nibblin’s gotten to your head.”
“Hm, I reckon so. Nothing sleep can’t fix.” Simon slouched down until he was lying flat on his back. He didn’t bother with putting his hat or shirt back on.
Jack also settled down into the cold dirt, with only his sac as a pillow. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be sleeping in a nice warm bed tonight.”
“I did you a favor,” Simon said. “They ain’t much for hospitality.”
“Don’t give a shit ‘bout hospitable as long as it’s warm.” He yawned, more than ready to fall asleep.
“I’ll keep ya warm,” Simon leered from his side of the camp.
Jack was only human, so he had to admit that it wasn’t all that bad of an offer, but it was still Simon. It didn’t matter how good looking the fella was. He was still the same pain in the ass from Jack’s childhood. “No.” His answer was dry, hopefully dry enough to repel any of Simon’s clever little replies.
“Whatever suits your fancy, cowboy.”