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The Slave Assassin Chapter 25

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Followed from a marketing link?  Check out the start of the story in The Slave Warrior, Chapter 1

 

It had been days since the Princess had taken uniform and horses to start for Lieutenant DuMonde’s ship.

The entire Rosemond military had been put on alert.  They were looking for her Highness in a Midlands military uniform, short hair and one, possibly two horses.  A messenger on a fast horse was sent to Lieutenant Beau DuMonde’s ship, just in case she had headed to the port city.  She had enough of a head start that she might get to the ‘Twilights Gold’ a day before the messenger.  The Royal Guard at the estate was on alert because of the direct attack on his Majesty in his quarters, looking for anything that was out of place.

Two days out, one of the horses that was missing and presumed taken by Princess Laun was found.  It had fallen into a hidden ravine on the plateau and was dead.  It was in a direction that was almost directly North of the Royal Estate, not South towards the ship.  No indication that it had been saddled or that her Highness had ridden it at all.

Three days out, an attempt was foiled on Ifhyed.  The thrown dagger that took down the dark above fair woman hit her in the throat, her own dagger dropping as she gurgled through her fingers.  It was a common Rosemond dagger, one that could have been from any one in the Kingdom.  The person who threw the killing shot was never found, the dessert being as mysterious as it ever was before Ifhyed and Edgar had gone for a walk.

Four days passed and word from the Capitol City of Rosemond was that there were several women who were being detained because of their similarity to the Princess.  None of them had a cut flower on her breast.  They had all been in the Red Scarf enclave, exotics brought in from the Midlands for the pleasure of the Rosemond men.

Five days from her disappearance and several bodies were found in a little-used storage room.  They had been tortured before their throats had been slit.  There were three sword and crow blades in the room, wrapped in cloth as if for transport.  All of the bodies had the bruise-mark of the Peaches.  None of the Peaches admitted to doing it.

Seven days out, the second horse came walking back to the stable, the saddle and pack still on it’s back, sores on it’s hide.  The uniform was rolled up and in one of the packs.  It had never been worn.

“She must be here.”

The statement lay where it landed.  Lord Edgar, Royal Companion and Master Peach, sat on the edge of the low couch, his elbows digging into his own thighs as he held his head.  Jost, the Captain of the Royal Guards, shook his head, but it was not disbelief on his face.  Ifahyd sat in a chair, his body tense and positioned so that he would not touch any around him.  Peaches and officers and a few trusted servants and concubines were in the courtyard, available, but not privy to what the men were talking about.

They had gathered when the horse had been found in the stables.  The emptied Royal Estate had been having a string of odd occurrences, and now the men knew it had been Laun.  They didn’t know why, or how to get ahold of her.

Ifahyd motioned to the courtyard and said, “The note said she was doing it to protect us.  There are more of us than there are of her.  Shouldn’t we have been protecting her?”

Edgar had a small sneer of a smile before he looked up, his face dropping slightly as he looked at the red, worried eyes of his new Love.  “Five bodies that we know of since she disappeared into the Estate.  We don’t know how many others she might have taken, or scared off.”  He reached and Ifahyd took a moment before lightly touching the palm of Edgar’s hand with fingertips.  “Being invisible let her keep you alive.”

The Rosemond King’s head twitched away from looking at Edgar.  “Alive.  What kind of ruler am I to let her put herself in harm’s way for me?”

Before Edgar could respond, Jost said, “It is what we do every day, your Majesty.”

Ifahyd nodded and had a pained expression on his face as he said, “It is your job.  She...  I know she has done...  I promised her that she would be safe here and she has been my safety since arriving.”  He dropped his head and his hand, looking at the carpet.  “I love her and I had hoped-”  He looked up at Edgar and had a horrified expression on his face.

Edgar had a cold flash go through him.  The feelings he was developing for this older man could not compete with what he held for Laun.  The possessiveness that he knew he had for Laun would not work in any situation.  She made people try to help her, want to keep her.  She did not see what she did to people, at least she did not seem to.

The silence between the men hung for a while longer.  Edgar knew that they were just going around the same course, not gaining anything and not resolving anything.  He raised a hand, a sign bringing several of the Peaches in from the courtyard.  There was a set to his jaw and the look that went along with just one sign sent the Peaches out again.

“Edgar?”  Ifahyd looked up and could not fathom what his Love had just communicated in such a small gesture.

Edgar shook his head.  He opened his hand to the King and held it palm up to him.  There was another hesitant moment before Ifahyd put fingertips on the Midlands man’s palm.  “Something I had thought of when she left.  Seemed to have left.  I hope it will bring her out.”

The brooding quiet shifted, becoming heavy, not companionable.  Ifahyd grasped Edgar’s hand before leaning back into the chair again.  He watched the younger man but could not see below the worry that was over his face.  Not just him, but Edgar was the one the King was worried about himself. The patience of the man was not endless, and Edgar seemed to be wearing down.

The Captain of the Royal Guards stood, asking to be dismissed with a small bow.  Ifahyd nodded and looked through the repaired window into the courtyard.  It was as quiet out there as it was in his room, though the Peaches, as he found Laun’s people called themselves, were quietly talking, mostly with the others who had gathered.  Some small smiles passed between one of the men who followed Laun and one of Ifahyd’s favorite concubines.  Aster was beautiful and had been under the King more often than any other red scarf on the Estate since he had arrived a few years before.  It had been easy for Ifahyd to take the boy, both physically and emotionally.  There was something about him that made the King relax and be comfortable.

Ifahyd pulled his eyes off the lightly tanned young thing and back to the man still beside him.  Completely different, and yet, Ifahyd found that Edgar brought out something that he had not known he had missed.  The wicked humor of Ithian came to mind, making Ifahyd smile and look away from the Midlander.  The eyes of his Beloved were never to open again, the same regret of not naming him Prince Consort that had hovered in his heart since word of his death making the time he had been with his Cousin bitter sweet.

There was a shift in the people in the courtyard, the flapping of wings bringing Ifahyd’s attention from the past to the now.  To the child Ithian had sired, and given to Aunt Engrid to turn into an assassin.  Baza had one of the small kestrels he raised in his aviary on her wrist, a wrap of leather helping the small bird to hold on as it perched there on the metal cuff.  Baza was stroking the bird with her remaining fingers on her other hand, the bird having reacted to something going past.

Silar came into the room from the courtyard with a small wooden cage.  Several small grey birds with blue flashes were within, agitated and flapping as he presented them to Edgar.  The Lord Salam-Dir and Master Peach took the cage and grimaced before nodding at the dark man.

“Doves?”

Edgar shook his head slightly.  “Pigeons.  Nigel had seen that these three seemed to pine every time Laun left for more than a few days from the household.  One of them found it’s way to the Capitol City and to Laun once.  It had never been there before, but found her.”

There was a chuckle from the King.  “I have never heard of pigeons that homed to a person, not a place.”

Silar had not left and nodded, saying, “Only our Mistress...”

Edgar nodded and stood, holding the cage carefully.  “I should do this outside.”

The courtyard seemed to clear, the people waiting going to the edges, or into the surrounding rooms.  Edgar, kneeling on the sand covered tile, placed the wooden cage on a stone bench and waited for the birds to settle down before opening up the door.  There was a small flap from inside before one of the pigeons popped out and sat on the edge, looking around with it’s blue eye, bobbing it’s head and making soft sounds.

Baza had the tether of the kestrel in her hand, but had to go inside the building.  The hunting bird had not focused on anything but the cage and birds since it had passed by, the thought of possibly the only way to track and trace Laun being hunted themselves disquieting.

The other birds had to be brought out, their forms easily surrounded by Edgar’s hands as he put them on the top of the cage.  There was flapping, but the birds crowded each other as they perched on the wood slats, not seeming to want to fly.  Edgar moved back and watched with the rest of the people in the courtyard as the birds settled, preening themselves and each other.

There was then a small movement and a flurry of wings and noise as the three birds lifted themselves up into the cloudless blue sky.  They circled the courtyard and were gone from sight.

“We have people throughout the Estate.  If she is here, they will find her.”

It was anti-climatic as one of the birds came circling back, leading the others to sit on a small ledge under the roof over the edge of the courtyard.  Edgar’s head went down and there was a sob he did not catch.

“We will find her.”  Ifahyd stood next to the younger man and gently put a hand on his arm.  “We both want her safe in our arms, Love.”

Edgar nodded and turned, a slight hesitation before he wrapped himself around the monarch of Rosemond, the need to be comforted pushing the heat and embarrassment to the side right then.

There was a clearing of a throat.  The Captain of the Royal Guards for the Estate was back, the dresser Velma in front of him.  “Majesty, this woman says she has a message for you.”

The lost nail stepped forward, a genuflection and a bowed head before she looked into Ifahyd’s eyes.  “Mistress Peach wishes you to meet her at the new hole in the servant’s way.”

There was movement in the courtyard and the rooms beyond.  Edgar held tight to Ifahyd as the King looked up at him.  Ifahyd was confused, but nodded.  “We should go.  But where is it?”

Captain Jost bowed his head slightly.  “I think I know what hole she means.  It appeared the same day she left.”  His eyes were narrow, thinking that he might have just missed her in the servants ways of the Estate that day.

The King and his Love relaxed a little, stepping away from each other, but still holding hands.  The group that left with the Captain of the Guards in the lead was not small, but not everyone who had been in the courtyard was in the group.  And not everyone who left was with the King.  It took some time to weave through the corridors and courtyards, into places Ifahyd had never been.

Jost motioned to the hole in the plaster wall, Edgar shaking his head and grimacing at the repairs that needed to be done.  Laun was not there.  The guards and Peaches looked around, went into the hole and searched the close hidden ways.  A small casket was found, a grey ribbon with one of Laun’s gold peachpit charms on the end tied around it.

Edgar unlatched the casket and hesitated.  He did not know what would be in a message drop such as this, but they had been used for missions before.  He also hesitated because he was not sure if it was trapped.  Edgar pushed the lid up and found several pieces of pulp paper.

“A map.  She has had this thing about accurate maps since the coup.  If it is in here, it is accurate.”  Edgar looked at the notations and saw where she meant them to go.

The Captain took the map and looked at it. “I do not know these ways.  They do not look familiar.”

It was passed through hands to many there until Edgar had it in his hands again.  “It looks dark in there.  Lanterns?”

Supplies were easily found and a small group started through the mapped ways behind the walls.  Some of the Peaches thought they saw where there were other entrances marked on the map and went to see if they could go through from another way.  Guards and Peaches stayed by the hole, guarding and thinking of who Mistress Peach could have been following through such passages.

It was dusty and dirty and close in the mid-afternoon heat of the high plateau.  The building was built to be breezy and have good airflow to keep the inside cool.  Between the walls had not felt those breezes since they had been built.  Trying to go through unfamiliar passages while on a type of a hunt made the still, close air even warmer and stifling as the group went through.  Edgar saw a room off of several cross corridors that they were heading for drawn on the map.  He hoped that was where Laun was so he could...  Edgar was not sure what he wanted to do with her right then, but he wanted to do everything to her when he found her.

There seemed to be a solid wall that was in front of them.  The narrow passage did not end, but it turned and went further beyond the map that had been drawn.  Silar pushed through and started to lightly draw his fingers down what looked like a support beam.  Edgar moved and saw there was a flash of light from a seam along the beam.  Silar found the holding catch and pushed.

It was a small room that had been created from the different constructions through the years.  It was oddly shaped, a long area with an angled wall that was the passage they were coming from.  A few odd alcoves with curtains across them.  Light from above from an open part of the building, but not directly overhead.

Edgar was pushed into the room by those behind him.  He looked around and thought he saw movement from one of the alcoves.  “Laun?”

There was a cracked laugh that chilled most there.  “Lost your whore?”

There was quiet as the curtain was pushed back with a dry, old hand.  A figure who had been mourned by some at her passing stepped forward, another figure behind her holding the curtain for himself.  Lady Engrid stood before them, weak, but not dead.  Aster, covered in cobwebs and dirt from the inner ways stood behind her.

Another hidden door opened in another part of the odd room.  A man that only a few of the Peaches had seen before was in front of the people who had decided to try another way.  Bririn had unmistakable hate on his swarthy features, the click of a knife being slid from a holster loud in the crowding room.

Engrid turned and had a slight surprise on her face.  “You?  I hear you have claimed my title without completing the warrant, Bririn.  You are still not ready.”

There was a small, almost childlike voice from behind Edgar, saying, “Enny?  Aunt Enny?  How...?”

Lady Engrid laughed, the sound discordant and made hairs raise on the backs of necks.  “As if you had any concept of how the world worked, you pampered idiot.”  She wavered slightly and Aster held her elbow.

Ifahyd stepped from the seeming protection of Edgar and looked at his Great Aunt and his favorite Companion.  His voice was steadier, but the confusion was easy to hear as he said, “You have been planning...  You have...  We are...  Fili del burattino per essere tirati, Prozia.  Eh.”  His voice was stronger as he let his confusion out.  “What did you hope to gain from playing us like this?”

She smiled, not a nice smile.  “Revenge for your Father taking what should have been mine.”  She turned to Edgar and quickly looked at the people around him before looking searingly at him again.  “Where is the little whore, anyway?  If she hadn’t been thrown in front of my plans, I would have been Queen of the Midlands by now!”

Edgar was not given a chance to respond as Bririn stepped closer.  “Mistress, I claim your title, by right of Brotherhood laws and-”

“You dare?”  Her voice filled the room, quieting all there.  She swung to face the Blue Pretender and pointed at him.  “You ran to Silver when I could not teach you any more.  You do not complete your missions and you are not fit for the Guild.”  She reached into a pocket of her robe and a signet ring was in her thin fingers.  “You don’t have the nerve to be Blue.”  She threw the Duchess ring at him, one of the pearls cracking when it hit the hard-packed dirt floor.

Bririn knew it was the one that he had given back to Laun at their meeting.  He had held it often enough to know the form, wincing as the powder of pearl scattered in the dust of the hidden room.  He ignored it and set his jaw before saying, “You have been Blue for too long, Mistress.  You have lost what you-”

She cackled.  “I have lost nothing.”

There was the sound of more people coming through yet another hidden passageway to the hidden room.  Estate guards and Peaches blocked that way out, the form of Aster jumping slightly as he steadied Blue Master.  His eyes went to the King’s, a knowing smile on his dirt-smeared lips.

Ifayhd felt his world crumbling.  His Aunt was alive, and behind the assassination attempts that had driven Laun from him.  His favorite companion was at her side, had to have been given to him to...  The King could not think of that, but it went through his mind unbidden.  He had been here to get information and possibly to get close enough to kill Ifahyd.  Could have at any time they had...  His Midlands Rose had protected him, had led him to this confrontation.  He felt his legs want to slip out from under him and grabbed onto the tunic of his new Love, the arm of Edgar going around him to support him before his body failed.

It was not a strong voice that came out, but it was a decisive one.  “Take Engrid into custody.  And her spy.”

There was a scuffle in the small space, blood being spattered into the dust as Aster tried to push himself between Blue Master and the others, but it was only his nose that had been broken before a coil of silken rope was deftly wound around his hands and arms, Wanda sitting on him as Engrid was bodily carried into the dark underways of the Royal Estate.  Her voice was stronger than it should have been as she called out epithets and curses upon Ifahyd.

The King was unsteady, but led the way through the passage they had gone through, his step certain even in the gloom.  They found the hole in the plaster wall, the word of what they had found spreading quickly to those still waiting at the hole.

A hand was on Edgar’s arm, a need in the older man’s face obvious, but needing to be said.  “Lord Edgar, I...  May I accompany you back to your yurlodge?”

Edgar nodded.  He held the man with him as they walked and glanced back as he heard from one of the Peaches, “Where is Laun?”  A dark flash went through him as he could not answer that simple question.

 

Onto Chapter 26, Where Laun fights being captured

The Slave Assassin Chapter 23

Back to Chapter 22   -  Thinking of donating or paying Tribute to the WebMistress?  Chocolate is always gratefully accepted.

 

Word went quickly through the Royal Estate if anything happened.  When there were people there.

The Countess Alison Scarlotti had died among those in the Royal dining tent.  None around her tried to touch her or help her before she started to convulse from the poison.  The knowledge that those around the King and his new Favorites could be harmed spread and most of those who had been hanging around the neck of the Royal presence were gone by the dawn of the next day.

Word would have been whispered and shouted that Princess Laun Dresden had run away.  If the gossiping nobles were still in residence and had not taken many of the servants with them.

The body of the assassin had been taken and buried, the head wrapped in linen and put into a large pot with honey for the transport back to the other continent.  The others in his team were easily routed, told of the demise of their team mate, and all chose to die at the hand of the Guards than to die at the hand of the Princess.

Word would have been intimated that the Royal Council was behind the assassination attempts, if any but the Guards and the Peaches knew of the treachery.  The council members and the people they had with them were sequestered in the stifling building the Guards used to keep prisoners.  They were outraged, but knew that they had been rightly caught and faced the wrath of their King.

Ifahyd knew all this and was glad that those who would spread the word had decided to save themselves and leave. »Read More

The Slave Assassin Chapter 22

Back to Chapter 21

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Edgar blinked.

“Ten people in the yurlodge with her and she just walked out?”

Daffyd nodded, anger and shame fighting on his features.  “Lord Edgar, she was writing, answering messages we all thought. Then she was just...gone.”

Wanda held Laun’s braid.  It was from the nape of her neck, the arm’s length hair still smelling of her sweat.  “Sir, what could she be doing?  My Mistress shouldn’t be alone right now...”

Edgar drew the girl into his arms and held her as the tears started again.  “I don’t know what she is up to.  She has always been unpredictable.  This-”  Edgar looked at the other Peaches, many having come running at the call that Laun had disappeared.  “This is different.  I want to find her, but I don’t know if she will let us.”

“Edgar-”  Silar was at one edge of the yurlodge, his attention on part of the canvas that met the foundation dug into the Rosemond plateau.  “She pushed her way through here.  There is disturbed sand and a few of her hairs.”  He looked over at Edgar.  “And blood.”

Edgar didn’t even have to say anything.  Those Peaches near the door were out and already of a mind to track and trace their own Mistress.  The whole troupe started to scan for what Laun must have taken with her, finding nothing missing.  Verat was the one to look at what Laun had been writing.

It was read aloud, many of those in the open rooms pausing to listen.

“Friends, Family, Lovers-

“There is too much to say.  There is only one thing I can say.  I am bringing the danger to the Royal Estate and to you.  I am taking myself out of here to lessen the danger.  You will ever be safer without me with you.  It has always been the way.

“You will look for me.  I cannot tell you not to.

“Laun”

There was quiet.  People went back to what they were doing but many of them were thinking of what Laun had just left for them.  She was saying farewell.

Feet pounding the hard dirt and sand outside came right before Lieutenant Beau threw back the entrance flap into the guest tent.  “There are two horses and a uniform missing from the barracks,” Beau gasped out as he pushed through the Peaches on the stairs.  “Midland’s uniform.  She left the Sergeant’s rank on his bed.”

“Fuck!”  Edgar had been holding the sobbing form of Wanda, but knowing that Laun might be trying to get back to the ship, back to the Midlands made him push her away.  “Green unit!  To the main road.  You, find the rest of Flower unit and make a sweep along the edge of the Estate.  Daffyd!  Do you know where-”

The large blonde man snorted through his broken nose and nodded.  “I’ll find them and send a pigeon.”

No hesitation.  Edgar was Master Peach.

Onto Chapter 23 Where Girl chooses a name

The Slave Assassin Chapter 21

Back to Chapter 20   -  Please support the Web Mistress with Tribute.

 

They had expected tears.  They had expected the darkness.  They had expected rage and anger.

Laun had felt better after being given clear water and having the blood washed from her into the sand outside their yurlodge.  She sat, the Peaches brushing her hair and cleaning what they had missed outside.  She had asked for several of their medicines, and for cold cloths for her twisted knee.  Other than that, Laun had not said anything or done anything.

It was eerie and concerning her people.

Laun was grieving.  Not just for Ulis.  For the assassin she had just killed.  For Wanda’s innocence.  For Rosemond and Iffy.  For her people.  For her children.

Laun was convinced that the attempts on Ifahyd would not be as bad, or numerous, if she had not been there.  Yes, they would have happened, but not like this.  Not this close.  Not taking out innocent people.

Laun smiled at her men when Daffyd and Gregg offered themselves.  She shook her head and went back to just looking at her hands.  Her hands.  The ones that had taken so many lives and had trained others to take lives.  The hands that had just held one of hers as she died.  The hand that held the blade to his throat as he chose to die.

»Read More

The Slave Assassin Chapter 20

Back to Chapter 19

Desert as the backdrop to desert-clothed people, one kneeing to another.

After the interrogation, the King receives his Cousin.

The Royal Guards faced out.  The Peaches faced in.  The circle was not complete, but it was enough.

Laun had stepped to where Wanda had used her rope skills to tie the man over a large, mostly flat rock in the garden.  He was face up, still struggling, though he knew he was dead.  Laun threw the dagger that until that point was held loosely in her hand at the foot of the rock, the tip landing in the sand and the blade slowly falling sideways after it landed.

There were words that Laun almost understood.  Her time with the K’tahll ambassador had been useful, but the language still was beyond her.  She did have a few things she knew how to say.  Silar stepped to her, staying in back and to her right.

“He says that he is only one of many come to bring the warrant and title of Blue Master to the other continent.”

Laun nodded.  She said in a cold, flat tone, “Eiah.”

The man stopped.  He squinted and struggled to rise to see Laun better.  He continued to talk, seeing Silar behind Laun and starting to sneer.

“He says that you are just a puppet, that saying what your...  Well, me, tells you to say is meaningless.”

Laun’s head went sideways and she shook her head.  “Eiah, gub’tataka.  Sisu bah’i.”

Silar kept his voice low and said, “I didn’t know you could understand...”

Laun shook her head.  Her voice was a whisper as she said, “I can’t, but he doesn’t know that.  I only know what your ambassador taught me, and I know I am not saying the words right.” »Read More

The Slave Assassin Chapter 19

Back to Chapter 18

 

The Desert.  Laun sighed.

It was beautiful, but hot.  The flowers were starting to fade, even as the evening call to the dining tent was sounded.  She heard the call, but stayed on the bench, waiting.

Messages had been written, the lost nail given some, the Royal messengers others.  Laun sent a scathing message to Kwarti, Red Master from the far Western shore of Myrned.  A year before, they had met in the Spires, some on each side had been lost, one sent to kill, one there to protect.  A pact had been made, and part of that was that all Royalty were unwarrentable.  A Secret Keeper had witnessed, and by Myrned Law, was unbreakable.

Laun sneered.  Nothing was unbreakable. »Read More

Slow Western 5

To the beginning of the story in Z-Grade Movies

 

They led us to a cave entrance that had a jumble of mining equipment, horses, and men.  Most of the men were in shackles and chains.

He waited just behind one of carts filled with rocks.  He reached up and grabbed a rock and looked at it while he was hidden.  It had sparks of other colors in it, and he shook his head.  He whispered, “Can’t tell if it is gold, but they are working those fellas hard.”

I nodded, my eye having been caught by his horse being taken to one of the carts, a harness going over the slightly skittish beast to make him pull the weight.  The band across his chest was where the clean place had been that morning.  “They used your horse last night.”

There was a scowl.  “This is just wrong.  Those men don’t look like prisoners.  They must have been kidnapped like I almost was.”

There was a small bell and a man in a better coat and a bowler came out of the cave.  There was some low talk, and then we could hear, “He needs this shipment.  Get it going.”

We watched as several of the carts were wrapped up to cover the ore rock, horses hitched up, and some boxes strapped to the sides.  As the carts headed out, a jostle started something, one of the boxes projecting light and a small amount of smoke coming out of it.  They stopped the cart and stopped the light show before moving on.

“Pause.”

I did and he was able to slowly move around the area a bit.  We talked about the light show covering up the ore going through the city at night.  We talked about how to get the prisoners out of their chains.  And then, I saw a ‘are you still watching?’ pop up and knew we had to restart things.  He was back in position and I continued the video.

He snuck up on the one guard that was left, knocking him to the ground.  He wrapped rope around his arms and legs, stuffing a bandana into his mouth.  The keys were used to unlock the prisoners, some bolting into the night.  Several of then headed into the cave, more men coming out, including another guard being dragged behind them.

So, scene of prisoners catching up to the ore carts.  Scene of small firefight.  Scene of the Sheriff coming out of his jail and looking between the two groups.  Sheriff sides with My Guy.  Fight, fight, fight, My Guy wins.

The Sun is coming up as the prisoners are talking to the Sheriff, the Sheriff apologizing for having to go with the Bad Guys.  Whatever.  Change of heart stuff doesn’t impress me.  My Main Guy unhitches his horse and brushes the dirt from it.  He doesn’t have his saddle, but that doesn’t matter. The townspeople start coming out, amazed at what they are seeing.  More apologies.

The Sheriff came up to My Guy and started talking.  “I knew something was different about you.  We have been under that gang for months.  I-“  He looked down to the ground, embarrassed.  “They said take the money or die, so I took the money.”  He held out his hand.

I thought he was going to let the Sheriff just hang.  He didn’t, but it was a perfunctory shake before he just tipped his hat and started walking out of town, the bridle of the horse in his hand.

Sweep of music, walking into the sun…  And a great smile on his face.  He turned and said over his shoulder, “See you next time.”

I sat there for a while even after the credits stopped.

Next time?

Slow Western part 4

Back to the beginning of the Slow Western

 

The scene of him riding along on his horse was magnificent.  Whoever did the cinematography for the outdoor things was really good.

He came to the spring, and obvious campsite there.  He set up a camp and sat and looked at the screen.

He had no pretensions when he started talking.  “That was really spooky, mate.  Do you think it was ghosts?”

“I don’t know.  It might be what they want you to think.  Western America was full of strange things, but that just was weird.  And the way the town just shut down.  And the way they got you out…”

He took a swig of water from his metal cup.    “Something just isn’t right there.”  He downed the rest of the water.  “And this is a trap.”

I looked at the screen and saw what he saw.  The camp was not clean enough, if that makes sense.  Like several people had used it, but didn’t have time to clean it up before they left.  The fire ring had half-burned logs in it before he had started the fire.  There were scraps of clothing hanging over a palette-like piece of fence, a small toolbox under a low scrub brush near the spring.

I could see some of the pieces, and said, “Whatever is going on, you need a plan.”

He looked up into the darkening sky and back at the screen.  “Do the pause thing.”

I did, and we talked.  We talked about the situation in town.  Everything the ghosts could have been.  Where the red dirt could have been from on the horse.  We even talked about the steaks we had eaten.  And then we talked about the other movies.  It was…nice.  It had been a long time since I had been able to just have a conversation, and this felt so real.  But I saw we had been talking for 45 minutes with the streaming on pause and knew we had to get the rest of the movie dealt with.

“Ready?”  He nodded slightly and I unpaused it.

We had made a plan.  He tamped down the fire and made the bedroll look like there was someone in it.  He lay under some of the scrub brush and waited.  In movie time, it isn’t too long before the horse reacted to something and a few figures came into camp.  The low, red glow from the coals in the fire pit showed it was a few of the guys that had confronted Him in the hotel.

I whispered, “Two from the spring, I think one from the big rocks.”  He nodded and stayed where he was.

One of the guys knelt before pushing down on where His head would have been, pulling the blanket off the rock figure.  He was confused for a moment and then started looking around.  “He’s not here!  Look around.  He woulnd’a left his horse.”

They looked around, but didn’t see him at all.  They gathered up the horse and some of the other stuff and went into the darkness.  He waited for a moment and then said into the dirt, “You were right.  Let’s follow them.”

Slow Western part 5 ahead

Slow Western 2

Back to part one of the Western Adventure

 

“It’ll be best if you leave before sundown, stranger.”

That sent shivers down my spine.

I said something like, “Somethings not right with this town.  Those were boards over the windows, not shutters.  They are protecting themselves from something.”

He glanced at the screen, the first time I had seen it in this movie.  He nodded, too.  He turned to the Sheriff and said, “I was hoping to get some provisions and sleep in a bed for the first time in weeks.”  I saw the look on the Sheriffs face harden further, but our Main continued with, “If I just stay in the Hotel… After sundown, will that work?  I don’t think I can get my money back from this guy.”  He made a motion with his thumb behind him, the clerk who had appeared looking slightly guilty.

The Sheriff made a grimace and slowly nodded.  “Keep the windows covered.”

O.k..  I was now in familiar territory.  This could be bandits at night.  This could be the ‘Boss’ keeping people in check.  This could be-

He turned to the screen and shrugged before going out into the bright mid-day light.

I giggled so hard at that.

Typical scene of Him sidling up to the bar in the Saloon across from the hotel.  Ordered a whisky and went to a table in a corner.  This is why I had bought the whisky.  As he took his first swig, I had some from my coffee cup.  And started coughing.  I could not breathe.  My eyes were shut and I put the cup down hard on the table.  I tried to breathe, but I just coughed.

When I opened my eyes, He was staring at the screen, the shot glass poised for another sip.  I covered my mouth as the coughing was lessening, but not going away.  His look was of concern, though there was a twinkle as he kept looking at the screen.

In a low voice, he started talking, saying, “I don’t trust the water in towns like this.  Most of the territory, actually.  It is safer to drink the whiskey, even watered down like this is.  Kills off anything that could be living in it.”  He looked around a little and then back to the screen.  “The trick to this is to breathe in before you take a shot.  That way you breathe out as you swallow and it doesn’t get into your lungs.”  He did as he described, and a little cough came out.  “Though it really works only if they don’t serve you kerosene.”

I laughed and he smiled.

The camera followed him through town, looks from the residents getting even more obvious.  He bought some stuff from the store, gave the tailor a vest for repair.  Really mundane things, but showed how a town like that worked, and the suspicion most of them had of a stranger.  I liked that he took his horse to a stable to be taken care of, too.  And a good number of shots of his butt.

Part Three of our Slow Western

Slow Western

Beginning of the z-Grade Adventures

 

I’m not really into Westerns.  I have seen the ‘classics’, most of them the so-called Spaghetti Westerns.  And Paint Your Wagon.

But this was different.  It had the actor who seemed to be able to see me in the grade-Z movies I had been watching.  I had to see if it would happen again.

I had some ‘Cowboy Style’ steak and beans, Pupper more interested in the beans than the steak.  I guess Coffee is a human thing.  I had a specially purchased whisky, a little bit poured out into a coffee mug because I don’t have shot glasses.  I found the movie on the streaming site and delved into it.

This…  This was a real movie.  It began with a sunrise with Him riding his horse against the pinks and yellows in the sky.  There was a light music with bird and cow sounds over it.  The title came up but was not splashy, just the title in a corner of the screen so as not to compete with the scene.  I chewed on the meat and watched as His character rode into a dusty town.

There were scenes of the town waking up, boards being taken down from windows, doors being unbolted.  Suspicious looks towards the Main character were really obvious.  He stopped in front of the hotel, tying the horses’ lead to the post there.  There was a guy in a chair out front who seemed to be napping, even as the others around him were being active.

The Main started towards the front door of the hotel, his saddle bags over his shoulder.  The man in the chair pushed his hat up and started some banter with Him.  There was something about not wanting strangers to stay too long, trying to put him off from staying there.  Our Main thanked the guy in the chair and went in anyway.

The clerk was nervous, but ‘found’ a room and handed over the key, after asking for payment in advance.  Some coin was put on the counter, the clerk looking at it and seemingly not wanting to take it.  The Main ambled up the stairs towards his room.

At this point, I was both hooked and anxious.  It wasn’t my typical type of movie, and I could not tell what was coming next.  I guess that is why I like the schlock movies.  They are so similar that you can predict so much about them most of the time.  This was slower and was unfamiliar.

Though, I was distracted from some of that as he took a bath. Um…  I didn’t mind that it was slow at that point.  He had his saddle bags over the end of the bed, a revolver showing from a holster on a belt next to the bags.  He was in a little copper bath thing that had barely enough room for his legs and butt while he was sitting there.  And cloudy water. And naked.  Naked Butt when he stood from the tub, water dripping from his skin…

I heard myself say, “oh, my.”  And I think I saw him do a little hip wiggle.  I giggled and ate more of the cooling food on my coffee table.

I almost went back to see that, again.

He was dressed and looked quite presentable as he was in the hotel lobby.  He was met by several not so presentable guys blocking his way.  The clerk was not behind the counter.

There was a scene where the other guys tried to bully Him into leaving the town, He wasn’t having any of it and quietly asked them to move.  It looked like it was going to be a fight when the Sheriff came in the door, the other guys becoming all ‘shucks!  we ain’t doing nu’ton.’  The Sheriff did the crossed his arms and watch the guys shuffle out thing and then turned to our Main.

Whatever nice-nice the Sheriff was projecting was gone.

Part Two of Western Adventure

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