back to civilization

[kennith]

I thought I might try my hand at some interactive fiction as long as I am here.  I like writing, and it will be interesting to see where you take this story, should you decide to play along.  Write what you will, and see where my beginning comes to end.

The rain was cold, and sharp.  Mist and drops fell hastily from the brim of his hat.  It had been a long night, and the mud was deepening, the air cooling, and no end was yet in sight.

He had been on the trail for longer than he could remember.  "On the trail", they say.  The phrase meant nothing to him, and trail was as foreign a word as his feet had stumbled across in years.  Once, there had been towns, people.  Women.  There had been life before the chase, but it all seemed pointless to him now.  As the sloppy gravel and mud crunched beneath his boots, he could smell the energy in the air as the brunt of a storm filled the night sky across the valley.  He liked it this way, despite the aches that came with rain these days.  The water came in torrents, as it was apt to do in this country, came and washed down the hills, scrubbing the land of it's dusty heat.  The heavy sky swelled with cloud, and it's depths were dimly illuminated by lightning.

He was a fellow who, without hope, had turned again to the old ways, shunned the world of man for what it had done to him.  Greed was a terrible thing in those days, and there was plenty of it, and as he now understood, pennance was eternal.

Another night of quiet, then, until he reached his destination.  A small mining town, or at least it had been there in the past.  He detested the thought, but they had pushed him, lately, hadn't they?  Years of solitude were interrupted by the call of a wanted man found still alive.  What he needed now was a horse.

What he wanted, however, was a gun.  It would give him something to spend the money on anyway.  It'd be a shame to die without having spent any of it.  He laughed.

[Leo Tanner]

A young soldier (deserter was the word, wan't it) hunkered down in the remains of a forgotten livery in hopes of riding out this harsh storm without detection.  His first thought was to check his leg.  The kerchief tied tightly around his left thigh was deeply stained a ruddy brown color--it was blood, but at least now it was dry.  His next inclination was to check the loads in his pistol, praying that the powder had stayed dry.  He knew they'd be looking for him.

As if some unknown force had just read his thoughts, he heard the sound of footfalls outside in the road.  Who on earth would be out there tonight on foot?.  Of course it could be another drifter, but these days even a one percent chance of having the owner of those boots belonging to someone looking for him was enough to put him on his highest gaurd.

The sound of muddy steps approached the old stable and the young man braced himself, pistol in hand.  He was always good with the guns, but each time he had proved his proficiency with them since leaving the war, he was brought one step closer to hanging.

The sound of the approacing man came to the opening where the unhinged doors now stood propped against one another.  His heart beat fast as a severly trail ragged figgure stepped through the small gap between them...

[kennith]

"Got a smoke?"

The words rang hollow in the stale air, and silence filled the aftermath as mist curled around the figure who now cast his shadow across the mouldy hay.

"Here, boy, you can shoot me if you like, but you've brought me no suprise."  The traveler spit the words out quickly and plainly. "I've no design on your death, nor your life.  Shall we not, then, share a bit of tobacco?  Perhaps afterword, when you have decided a bit more of me, you may kill me then."

Again, the world itself seemed to hesitate.  The humidity in the room was stifling, and it drew sweat upon the travelers face as the silence filled his ears.

Carefully, as if exploring the option for the first time, the young man stepped away from his place amongst the shadows, a single barrel staring squarely at the traveler.  There was a mate to the gun, tucked neatly in it's holster, and his free hand was braced on a rotten bale of hay.  He was a shaken, injured man, but his hand was steady, and his eye sharp.  He stood for a minute there, bleeding, thinking.  At once he reached a decision.  The traveler was unarmed, and to all effect looked like no man of action to him.  He holstered his weapon and slowly, achingly slowly, fell forward into the night.

[Leo Tanner]

The soldier, Leonard was the name his mother had given him, had squinted at the apparition in the shambled doorway.  His mind had begun it's calculations but it took more effort than usual.  The stranger (no more a stranger than he, he supposed) had only a knife on his belt.  He was not one of the men from the last town, and, thank God, he wore not a uniform of any color.  These cloudy thoughts, brought an unexpected feeling to the young man--relief.  Sweet relief for the first time in memory.  The man had asked for tobacco and no more.  Leonard had some, wet as it may be, and his last thought before losing his faculties was that a smoke sounded like a wonderful idea.

First there was nothing but blackness.  Then he began to dream--the stranger in the stable all but forgotten to him.  He dreamt of the last battlefield on which he had been engaged, the sound of the cannon, the close whistling of lead balls flying past his ears, but mostly the screaming.  comrads or enemies, it didn't matter, it was the sound of hell.  And then the mounted officer in grey who had ridden down upon him and the others, the bright flash leaping from the muzzel of his pistol as he did so with saber held high in his other gloved hand.  Then there was the pain, an explosion of it and the recounting of this moment in his subconcious shocked Leonard out of his feverd and exhausted state. 

His eyes fluttered open slowly.  Where was he?  This was not the blood drenched earth of that swampy place.  No, he was in the old livery.  There had been what might have amounted to a threat in the man who now sat watching him from his makeshift bed of rotten hay, but despite his golden opportunity to do what he would while the boy lay defenseless, he did nothing.  Nothing but keep watch.  He had requested tobacco but  apparently had not even helped himself to that.  A glimmer of trust sparked in Leonards tired mind--was that possible, it'd been so long.  "A smoke" he exhaled the word more than spoke it, "Sounds like a helluva idea"... 

[Lucky Irish Tom]

The rock outcropping provided a natural shelter from the storm for both the Marshal and his horse.  His quarry lay somewhere ahead, but he didn't worry about losing ground.  The  torrential rain had turned the very ground underfoot into a boot sucking mud that impeded all progress.

He had untacked his horse and rubbed him down good, picketing him so he could eat some grass.  The big bay gelding had been his steady mount for several years and had saved his life on at least two occassions by alerting him to a waiting ambush.  He wouldn't risk lighting a fire, even a small one, since there was no way to know who might see it.  He settled his grumbling stomach with a cold hard biscuit and some jerky, washing it down with a few swallows from his canteen. 

He untied his bedroll and settled down to get some rest.  In the morning he would head for the mining town marked on his map, even if he couldn't get any new information on the men he sought, he might be able to get a bath and some hot food.

[Leo Tanner]

Leonard rolled over onto his back and accepted the outstreached hand of the newcomer.  Sitting upright, he carefully pulled a paper from his tobacco pouch and began rolling the first cigarette.  It had to be just right--it was always that way for him.  When he had finished, he made it dance between his knuckles back and forth before handing it over.

     "That's a neat trick" the man said with a raised eyebrow.

     "An old habit, ya know what they say about those.  Ya coulda ended me right here" Leonard said.  "I'm sure ya didn't think I was playin possum".  He began rolling his own smoke with fixed concentration.  "Coulda made handy work a me with that knife and got my pistols, my tobacco an whatever else I got jinglin' in my pockets."  He looked up at nothing in particular, and then, "I had a feelin' someone was comin', just didn't 'spect em ta be friendly".

     "You talk in your sleep, you know"  Was all his new companion had for a reply.

Lenard looked at him startled.  His friend Lex had said the same thing in the camp they had made the night after a large battle had been fought.  His unit had been ordered to assist with dragging the wounded off the field that evening and he had slept uneasy that night. 
     He didn't like sharing his thoughts much in his waking hours, but to know he was babbling on while he was in no control of his speach made him uneasy.  "Don't concern youself with that" he said.  "I won't ask you your business, all I know is that there's a friendly place for me just up ahead.  Friends back home told me I could get some doctorin' with no questions."  Leonard watched the ember glow at the end of his cigarette.  "Lest of course your in the mood to talk--looks like we got some time ta kill"

[Lucky Irish Tom]

The sky slowly grew to a dull gray as dawn approached.  The remnants of the previous night's storm clouds still skudded across the sky.  Joints cracked, and tendons popped as Cyrus Evans pushed off the blanket and stretched.  He looked at his horse and muttered, "I'm getting to old for this kind of work." 

The Bay just pricked his ears forward and then went back to grazing.  Cyrus sat and watched as the sun slowly crested a rise and brought bright splashes of color to the landscape.  This had always been his favourite part of the day, it always felt to him like God's hand was rendering beauty to a new canvass just for his enjoyment.

He pulled a long glass from his pack and surveyed the surrounding area.  Satisfied that there were no signs of movement or indications of others camped nearby he decided to risk a small sheltered fire to heat some coffee and warm some food for breakfast.  He fixed beans and bacon and warmed a couple of biscuits, that and the coffee warmed his insides. He lit a smoke, put out the fire and began to break camp.  Within half an hour he was back on the trail.

[kennith]

The traveler reclined into the hay, appearing to give careful consideration to the words he had heard.  Eventually, he sat forward and spoke again.

"We may have time, and we may have time to kill.  You mentioned your doctor."

Leonard gave a cautious nod.

"Though he may not have many questions of his own, others will."  Spoke the traveler again. "What he himself might have... Are answers."

He seemed pleased with his reply, and reclined again, taking a long, slow drag of his tobacco.

[Leo Tanner]

     Leonard laughed.  The sound jumped out of his throat and was completely unexpected.  In a way it shocked him, to hear that again.
     "Oh, there'll be answers there" and Leonard couldn't help the dry twist of a smile on his face.
     The stranger looked at him oddly.
     "One thing ta git straight is that I said 'doctorin' but not ever did I mention 'doctor'".  At this he was asked to explain just what he was saying by the man he shared these humble accomodations with.
     "Ya see...where I've been directed is as far from a doc's office as ya could imagine, though the nursing staff is never in short supply.  It's above a saloon."  Leonard's smile remained on his lips.  The stranger looked as if he were to question but then deferred to the hand that said "let me continue" that was raised by this young veteran of God knew what battlefields.
     "See, story is they got a few southern girls who learned a thing or two about patchin up the wounded back near their homes when the fightin' got really bad.  They didn't care what side you was on, they just used all the sewin skills they knew ta do their best.  Them plantation girls is said ta have saved more men then Hooker's Army."  Leonard paused and caught the last drag before it could burn his fingers.
      "Lot of them gals moved on west when all went ta riot an ruin.  Up ahead is that saloon I mentioned, an if I can walk like nuthin worse happened ta me than fallin off a horse, I'll blend right in.  Just another lonely tramp lookin fer sone comp'ny."  Another pause as Leonard threw the last of his smoke to the ground.  "A lot of folks come out this way ta find sumthin, others come ta leave things behind."  He stood then and addressed the stranger gravely.  "My name is Leonard James Tanner, but I suppose you can call me Leo.  Cross me and you'll see hell, but I don't get the feeling you will..."
     
     

[Lucky Irish Tom]

The trail was still used on occassion so Cyrus made good time.  The scenery was pretty much the same as any other trail.  As he got closer to his destination he noticed an old weed choked side path, and in the distance was the remains of an old livery.  Once it had probably been a Stage or freight wagon depot, before the days when the mine ran dry.  Nowadays the only folks that came this way were the ones running away from something or the ones looking for them.

  He topped a final rise and his destination came into view, it looked much the worse for wear since the last time he had visited.  At least two of the old abandoned store fronts had collapsed.  The saloon, Sheriff's office, a small general store, still stood and showed signs of life as did a few other random buildings that served as shelter for those who still sought an unfound rich vein of ore as their ticket to a better life.  The cemetary showed a few freshly dug graves and the wind lazily blew the rope hanging from a post that had once held a school bell in better days.

  Well if luck was with him he could get a hot bath and a drink at the saloon, then he would see the Sheriff about the men he sought.