Back to the start of the Slow Western Back to the start of the Z-Grade movies
The night in the town started with everyone putting boards across windows, covering things with sheets, and hurrying to get inside. The sun was orange and the mountains in the distance wavered in the shot, the heat of the day making things just a little hazy on the horizon. Our Main character stood at his window, watching the town put its self to bed in the growing dark. And it was dark. No lamps or torches or anything were lit in the street below.
He closed the window and drew the thick curtains over them, turning to the bed. There was a look on his face I had seen before, and I knew he was going to go out during the night. But he crawled into bed with his clothes on and seemed to go to sleep. He looked so peaceful.
The lamp next to the bed started to go down, flickering and sputtering. I watched as his eyes flew open, looking at the lamp. He looked over at the curtains and there was a whooshing sound with a bit of a clink and rumble. I think I could hear horses, too. He sat up in bed and watched as, even with the curtains closed, beams of light were coming into the room, moving and highlighting patches of the wall.
He got up and went to the window. He paused and glanced at the screen.
I said, “The only way to find out is to look.”
He nodded and slowly pulled back the edge of the curtain. His eyes were Blue. I say this because one of the lights caught him and those blue eyes were so blue right then. I didn’t mind seeing his face, but I needed to see what was going on below. His eyebrows came together and he pulled the curtain more open.
There were pools of light traveling up the street. Sometimes, they seemed to fly by the window, and that was when the beams of light would come through. The sounds were louder, more wind sounds and some thudding. I could really hear the panicked horses at that point. I’m not sure if he could, but right before he stepped back from the window, I know we both saw faces turn towards the hotel from within the light.
The light and noise went on for a while and then just stopped. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked thoughtful, and then shrugged, pulling the quilt over him as he went back to sleep.
The next scene was him in the hotel dining room, having some food. I looked at my steak and started in on it as he ate. The clerk was being a waiter and brought Him some milk. I saw the start of a waive towards the screen, but He stopped himself, using his hand in a ‘its fine’ motion.
“I don’t mind cooking for myself, but there is nothing like a biscuit from an oven, not over a fire.”
The clerk came back to the table. “Sir?”
Our Main shook his head and said, “I’m used to being alone. I talk to myself, I guess.”
There was a curt nod from the clerk and we continued eating. I saw worried looks from the clerk at His back several times, though he wasn’t trying to hurry the meal.
“That was quite some light show last night,” he quietly said into his glass of milk.
“Yup.” I swallowed before continuing with, “I can think of so many reasons for it, but I’m afraid to say any of them out loud right now.”
He nodded, putting the glass down and cutting into the steak in front of him. “Could be anything, but now we know why they don’t want us here.”
I nodded and we finished our meal, the clerk coming over and clearing things away before Main stood. There was a look between them and the clerk scurried away with the dishes.
There was a cut and the saddlebags were being put on the horse at the stable. His hand went down the flank of the horse, seeing some red dust on his hand after he did so. He looked at the horses’ hide and there were flecks of larger pieces of red dirt on the horses’ front, a clean line about a hand wide through it. The horse was calm as he brushed some of it off with a big hand brush from a bucket hanging in the stall.
The Sheriff was standing there when the Main turned around. “Slept well?”
There was that shrug and he said, “Not used to a real bed, but it was nice not having to pick rocks out of my hair this morning.” That slight London accent slipped out though the drawl, and I knew he was trying very hard not to say the wrong thing.
The Sheriff nodded and smiled. It was not a kind smile, but it was better than the scowl he had before. “Can I escort you out of town? “ It was not really a question.
The two of them walked down the street, the horse being led by it’s bridle. The townspeople watched as they went by, but didn’t seem as judgmental. There was a sign at the edge of town that the Sheriff stopped at. He pointed and said, “There is a spring about four miles that way.” He turned and ambled back into town.
Amble into part 4 of the Slow Western
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