Just some idea writing samples, bits and pieces
|The large man stood over her, speaking to her. Only she didn't understand any of the words he spoke. She ignored his tirade and pulled at her tight binds, the rope had rubbed her thin wrists raw. She looked around the dimly lit cell, the hay she was laying on was damp and smelled of mold.|
"Mike." he called. "Mike are you okay?" he peered through the bars at her. She opened her one good eye to see him in the lamplight.
"Wes." she whispered."I will."
"Let me in at once!" he shouted to the guard. "Open this door." he pulled on the bars and the heavy iron padlock with all of his strength.
When no one came he knelt down on the filthy dirt floor and reached inside, just short of touching her. "I'll get you out of here, I promise."
"I don't want to die in here." she cried.
"Why is she being held?" asked Wes calmly standing over the Colonel's desk.
"She's a traitor." said the Colonel looking up from his paperwork. "Treason, she'll be hanged at sunrise."
"To what degree?" he asked now pacing.
"She used her knowledge to help the Indians attack the army." he shifted and lit a cigar.
"She merely helped the elders and the women and children move to higher ground as the warriors met with the army. No one was attacked." he spat.
"She's a traitor, she worked for the army." he puffed the cigar smoke in Wes's direction.
"She was helping the savages all along." he stood. "Now Ranger McClain, please remove yourself from my office."
"She's not working for your army." he picked up his hat and turned towards the door.
The Colonel mumbled something Wes didn't understand and he turned and watched the wrinkles on the man's forehead crease. "What's your price?" he asked calmly standing in the doorway. "To let her live?"
The Colonel's thin lips curved into a smile. "I want the leader of those savages, the one they call Stands Tall."
"I cannot..." Wes paused. He realized there was no use in arguing with the Colonel. His mind was made up.
Wes turned his back.
"She hangs at sunrise tomorrow." he laughed.
Wes rode into the Indian camp not knowing what to expect. He whipsered a prayer for safety and let them pull him from his horse. He was taken directly to the chief's teepee.
"Ranger?" spoke the tall, muscular Indian. He wore only a buffalo robe over his shoulders and a breechcloth. The fire was raging inside.
"I need your help." he said. "Mikayla has been captured by the army."
He sat down and crossed his legs. "You need my help to get her back?"
"Yes, I mean...they are going to hang her at sunrise. "
He looked alarmed. "I would do what you ask Ranger."
"The army Colonel wants you, in return for Mikayla's life." he shook his head. He was too nervous to sit. "Please, I can't let her die. I also can't guarantee your safety Stands Tall."
"Tell me one truth." he said simply in English. "Does your heart ache for One with Blue Eyes?"
"Yes." he answered kneeling down in front of the warrior. "I can't let her die."
"Would you give your life for hers?" he asked.
"I would die for her." he said sitting back on his legs. "I love her."
"Then you know what my heart feels." he touched his chest. "My heart aches for the one I cannot touch."
"You love her?"
"I have always loved One with Blue Eyes." he smiled. "I will go with you to the army."
"I can't promise your safety." he said again.
"I know." he said standing before Wes.
Wes stormed past the two sleeping guards to the Colonel's house. It had to be well past midnight. He thundered up the stairs waking two maids and the doorman. He opened the Colonel's bedroom door and awoke the man from his slumber.
"I have your price." he said simply.
"Can't this wait until morning." he grumbled sitting up and lighting the lamp by his bedside.
"No, I want her out now!" he demanded.
A few moments later they were standing outside the jail waiting for the Colonel to give the orders. The door was unlocked and Wes knelt down and unlatched the shackles that held her. He lifted her limp body from the rancid hay and walked out of the jail. The guards seized the Indian.
"Wait." said Wes. "I want a word with Stands Tall."
He moved towards the Indian. "Thank you friend."
"Take care of her. Tell her I died a warriors death and I would be smiling at her."
Wes thanked the Indian, and the guards led him away.
He found his horse and mounted and rode towards his brother's ranch, about three hours south of the army fort.
"Wes?" asked his brother.
"I've no time to explain." he lay the girl on the spare bed. "Please keep her safe, I'll return in a weeks time."
"Are you in trouble brother?"
"No, but I have to settle a debt." he kicked his horse and rode into the darkness.
Mariah closed her eyes and mustered the strength to lift him onto the horse. He was significantly more weight than she had guessed, but he moaned as he grabbed the saddlehorn.
"Hold on tight cowboy." she muttered as she climbed behind him in the saddle. Mariah wasn't small herself, standing at five foot eight, but this man was much taller, and heavier than she was. She muttered a prayer for safety and kicked her horse and they rode towards her cousin's ranch.
She reached the ranch after almost an entire day in the saddle. She was exhausted holding the now unconcious man atop the horse. The horse stopped at the barn and Mariah tried to dismount, but instead her limps had gone numb and they both tumbed into the fresh hay alongside the door. She rolled out from beneath his weight and stood up stretching her limbs. She wiped her hands on her pants and headed for the main house. She was met by the double barrell of her cousin's shotgun.
"Damn it Mariah." he swore putting the gun down and embracing her. He noticed the blood. "Are you hurt?"
She looked down at the blood covering her clothing. "No, no I'm not hurt cousin." she looked at him. "I've a friend who's hurt, he's in teh barn."
They went to the barn and Jonathan knelt down by the ailing Texas Ranger. "He's unconcious."
"I know." she whispered using what was left of her strength to help her cousin lift him and drag him into the main house.
Mariah laid out one of the buffalo hides by the fireplace in the spare room and they lay the man on it. She removed his boots and his clothing piece by piece as Martha, the housekeeper joined her. "It's really late girl. You'd best be cleaning up yourself."
"I can't." she accepted the pot of warm soapy water from the maid. "We have to clean him up, he can't die on me now."
They set to work not saying a word as Jonathan helped hold him while they dug the bullets from his badly broken leg. They wrapped the leg in bandages and covered his half naked body. Mariah put another log on the fire and watched as he slept.
"Get some sleep cousin." smiled Jonathan taking her into an embrace. "He'll be watched."
"I'll sleep in the bed next to him." she uttered. "I'm just going to..." she yawned. Jonathan scooped her up and Martha helped her pull her bloodsoaked clothes off and change into one of Martha's nightgowns, Mariah slept like a rock.
Mariah heard voices and wished them to go away. She wanted to sleep more, she hadn't slept in days. She moaned and turned over in the bed to watch her cousin and the ranch foreman, Hank leaning over the man.
"What are you doing?" she asked sitting up and swining her legs out of the bed.
"He's got the fever." said Hank. "He keeps thrashing about and calling for someone."
"Oh." she knelt down and held the cool cloth to his sweaty forehead. "It's okay Ranger, we won't let you die."
"Ranger?" asked her cousin. "You never said..."
"You didn't ask." she snapped. "Ranger Weston McCall."
"He's the one I read about in the paper a few days back. Was killed or captured by the James gang."
She shook her head. "I ain't heard of any such thing. I found him under a stage coach."