Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

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librarian_7
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Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by librarian_7 »

Usual disclaimers

As a reminder, our setting is the Kansas/Colorado border, 1873.


Dust

Chapter 2

The six horses stamped and switched their tails restlessly as the stage driver, the stationmaster, and the guard worked in silence to buckle and tighten the myriad straps of the harness. Slade thought that the part of this job he hated the most was rolling out of his bedroll in the stable—no niceties like a proper bed for an employee—at some ungodly hour before dawn to wrestle a bunch of reluctant nags into harness. It might not have been so bad if he could have looked forward to a decent breakfast, or at least a proper cup of coffee, but remembering the watery, burnt slop from the night before, he had no hope of that. It had been possibly the worst coffee he’d had since Lee surrendered at Appomattox. And if the stationmaster’s woman were in a good mood, which privately Slade doubted was likely, there might be corn hoecakes in addition to last night’s beans and stew. Nothing there to look forward to. When this job was done, he was hitting the trail for Denver and the biggest, bloodiest rare steak he could find.

As he worked, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, almost beyond the range of the flickering piñon torch that was providing inadequate light for their work. Some stage inns would have provided a decent oil lantern or two, but not this god-forsaken hellhole.

He saw the movement again, and whirled to find one of the passengers watching. It was that tall Easterner, the one who dressed like a riverboat gambler, but had a more dangerous gleam in his eye than any gambler Slade Weston had ever seen before.

“What’re you looking at?” he growled. “Never seen honest work before?”

The man smiled, and Slade remembered anew why he’d changed his mind about picking a fight with the pale stranger. He thought once more, a little desperately, that he should’ve taken the chance. It might’ve been his ticket out. He still wasn’t exactly sure how he’d gotten suckered into this unholy mess anyway, but he supposed the cards had been dealt, and there was nothing left but to play the hand out. He turned back to his work, dealing the stolid draught horse before him an unnecessary slap as he maneuvered it into a better position.

Josef watched the proceedings with scant interest. He’d spent the bulk of the darkness outside, staring at the stars until the early morning fog started to rise. It was thick out now, and he overheard one of the men griping about it. Apparently, this close to the river bottom, at this time of year, it was usual. But the wisps of mist circling him made him feel hemmed in, not in control of his environment. That made him irritable, and the discomforts of the place had him frankly bored. He was starting to hate travel. With long torturous hours huddled between Iris and young Mrs. Watkins looming ahead, when he wanted nothing more than a cool, dark place to pass the day, he could feel the fatigue lowering again. The lift he’d taken from feeding on his pet the night before was not really enough to sustain him for long.

Not with the lack of rest.

He consoled himself with the thought that after one or two more days at most, he’d be in Las Animas. It was probably another godforsaken little hole, but with any luck it would have a decent saloon or two where he could pass the nights gambling and let his very public late hours disguise his nocturnal nature in a socially acceptable way. And while he essentially disliked trafficking with human whores, his—in retrospect—foolish decision to travel with only one fresh bite would soon leave him with little other option. He had taken a path he thought less conspicuous, and this was where it had brought him.

But first, there was the stagecoach ride to endure. If that accommodating little Mrs. Watkins would agree to leave her window shade drawn, he might be able to catch some much needed rest.

As he watched the men expertly handle the complex six-horse hitch, though, his mind turned again to the problem of the guard, Weston. The man had certainly not been as drunk as he’d pretended last night, and Josef could think of no logical reason the fellow should wish to counterfeit such a state, and then try to pick a fight for no reason. He knew that somewhere, there must be a key, one that would make it all make sense. But at the moment, as he wearily watched the fog-bound darkness paling into the flat pre-dawn gray, it escaped him what it might be.

The noise in the courtyard woke Sally, and she stirred sleepily, waiting for the rolling waves of nausea that had become a common morning companion for her. Moving as quietly as she could, she delved into the small supply of soda crackers her mother had pressed on her. Usually nibbling one or two, slowly, first thing upon waking, settled her stomach enough she could get up and begin the day.

Iris was slower to stir, stretching extravagantly when she finally deigned to awaken, and complaining about everything she could think of as she dressed, a running monologue to herself. The cold of the room, the horrible food, how the bed was so hard and lumpy, the sheets so rough, she’d never slept a wink, not a wink. Sally wondered at that point about the gentle snores she’d heard throughout the night, but said nothing, although her palm was positively itching to slap the complaints off the other woman’s lips. And the litany continued. She couldn’t believe Josef was subjecting her to this misery, this was not the life she’d signed up for. Where was the glamour, the excitement—any of it? Iris was punctuating her tirade with affected exclamations of “Well, I never! I just never!”

As Sally finished her own simple toilette, she’d had enough. Picking up the small carpetbag that held her meager travel supplies, she looked at Iris and smiled sweetly. “It’s my opinion that if you ‘never,’ your precious Mr. Constantine wouldn’t have brought you along in the first place.” And with that she walked out the door and down the stairs to the common room.

Five hours later, Sally was almost past wishing she’d never been born. The stagecoach jolted again, and she let out an involuntary yelp when Mr. Constantine was thrown against her again.

“I really am sorry, Mrs. Watkins,” he said, his voice muffled within the scarf shielding his lower face. He pulled it down to give her an apologetic grimace. “We’re neither of us very good travelers, are we?”

“I think not, Mr. Constantine,” she replied, ignoring Iris’s annoyed sniff. The woman really was insufferable, she thought, if she objected to her—Sally groped for a word—friend even speaking to another woman. “If we could only stop for a few minutes.”

The man quirked one corner of his mouth. “We seem to be making good speed today. Perhaps we’ll arrive early at our destination for the night.”

Sally couldn’t help a short laugh. “Something to look forward to, then.”

Josef felt a slow smile spread across his features. Pity this Sally Watkins was so very thoroughly claimed by a human, he thought. Iris was a regular little spitfire all right, and her blood suited him well, but he could have chosen a better traveling companion. Still, once he’d concluded his business in the southwestern part of the territory, they could go on to Denver, or maybe Tucson. There should be sufficient diversions in either of those places, even for Iris. Perhaps she’d like to go back on the boards. She was a pretty fair actress, and it would keep her busy. Her singing voice could be better, but he didn’t imagine standards were all that high here in the wilderness.

“Mr. Constantine,” Sally said, breaking into his train of thought, “if it wouldn’t make you too uncomfortable, I surely could use a peek out the window. Just long enough to—uh—to let me get my balance back.”

Josef nodded and made sure his collar and hat were well adjusted against the possibility of any stray sunlight striking him. “Your consideration of my—sensitivity—is much appreciated, ma’am.”

She couldn’t see much, not without craning her head out the window, which didn’t seem dignified enough for someone just addressed as “ma’am.” And the dust thrown up from the horses’ hooves on the dry road threatened to choke her. But it was better than feeling so closed in, even if only for a few moments. The terrain was changing, slowly, the roll of the plains deepening, the gold of the tall waving grass giving way to a duller tan of rocks, lightened here and there by the pale gray-green of sagebrush. Off to the left, she could still see the trees bordering the riverbed.

The road took a gentle curve, heading for a slight rocky defile, and Sally thought she could see a tree trunk tilted across the road, blocking the way.

That didn’t look right, she thought as the stage began to slow. She could hear the driver shouting at the guard.

“Get your shotgun up, Weston,” he yelled. “They’re gonna get the drop on us!”

What Weston said in reply, if anything, she couldn’t hear, but as the stagecoach rolled to a halt, they all heard the single shot, and the hard thump of the driver’s body hitting the ground.

Link to Chapter 3
mitzie
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by mitzie »

Oh, a cliffie! I love this story!! If I were Sally I would have slapped Iris silly at this point!! I wonder what Slade's real agenda is??!!

Can't wait to see what happens next... :yahoo: :yahoo: :woohoo: :yahoo: :clapping: :clapping: :clapping: :gasp: :slappy: :swords: :yahoo: :hyper: :hyper: :hyper: :hyper: :yahoo: :clapping: :seesaw: :angel: :yahoo: :thud: :thud: :thud: :notworthy: :chair: :dracula:

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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by allegrita »

Oh my gosh--you inflicted an evil cliffie on me! Why, oh why didn't I resist your wiles until you'd posted Chapter 3?!?!

Hmm...we're getting closer to the mountains, which is good; but bandits have stopped the stage and shot the driver, which is definitely bad. And poor Josef can't possibly drive--the sun would kill him! And is Slade in on the robbery?! Eek--how will I live till the next installment?

BTW, Lucky, I keep imagining Josef dressed kinda like Bat Masterson...am I right? (OK, maybe without the cane...)

http://crazyabouttv.com/batmasterson.html
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by francis »

Hmmm. Gooood.
So, Weston Slade isn't a vampire yet. He likes food. And Josef knows that having only one freshie is foolish.
Now they are ambushed, it seems. Can't wait for part 3. Action, maybe, Josef saving their lives, maybe, or forfeiting his secret in the process, maybe. Maybe he did turn Slade? Slade was much too cocky in your other stories to be his fledgling, but maybe that's pure Slade. Could be. I like to speculate, but I like to read your version more. So, please continue this.
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by LadyAilith »

allegrita wrote:*snip*

BTW, Lucky, I keep imagining Josef dressed kinda like Bat Masterson...am I right? (OK, maybe without the cane...)

http://crazyabouttv.com/batmasterson.html
Oh, he SO has the cane! Josef would be dressed as the absolute epitome of a successful gambler. :thumbs:

Iris is a pain in the keister! What a whiner. If I were Josef, I'd gag her or knock her senseless! :getclue: I like Sally though. She's a true lady. :rose: Slade is an enigma.

Great update! I'm really looking forward to the next chapter.
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by cassysj »

Posting after I go to bed! Well it's makes a good morning. Poor Josef, this is why you need to have several on tap but it would be conspicuous. I like Sally she is a lady but she's feisty.

“It’s my opinion that if you ‘never,’ your precious Mr. Constantine wouldn’t have brought you along in the first place.” And with that she walked out the door and down the stairs to the common room.

Although if Iris is a pretty fair actress maybe Josef should suggest she act like a good traveling companion. :snicker:

Cliffhanger! You don't do that too much. I look forward to the next installment.
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by Josefismysire »

Wonderful, as ever!! You know that we are all waiting, waiting, waiting to find out what happens..*biting nails, tapping foot*
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by moonlight_vixen »

Iris definitely needs a hearty slap to her face! She is insufferable :witsend: I like Sally; she has some spunk to her!

Leaving us with an evil cliffie, huh? I'm dying to find out what happens next on this stagecoach ride...
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by tucutecats »

Great story, I feel like I was there with all the dust and discomfort. your are truly a fantastic writer. thankyou so much. Liz
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by jenstc2003 »

*Grins* The evil cliffie!! Brilliantly done, as only you can. I can't wait to see what happens after this little melee- Slade has always struck me all wrong- maybe you are about to explain why. It'll be an excellent thrill ride!
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by RangerCM »

Oooooo. Bandits ahead! Maybe Josef can manage to get a little.......snack.......to help hold him over better. :snicker: :snicker:
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by bluedahlia3 »

*cough...sneeze...choke* Boy, so well written even the dust floats out. Hey! Now it's all over my computer. Good job, and a cliff hanger. Can't wait for the next installment. :clapping:
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by MoonShadow »

Lucky darling, you are a masterful storyteller. I agree with bluedahlia, I'll be hours blowing the dust off this keyboard.

wacking at the bottom of my skirt... Shaking my head and wondering just what was Josef thinking? Seriously Josef...haven't you learned by now, vampires and sun lit deserts are not a good mix. You should have booked passage around the Horn. Two or three fresh bites scheduled for delivery at a business in California, never would have raised a question.

Alright Lucky, when you are ready to proceed, we are too. Provided it's not off that cliff you have us hanging on.
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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by librarian_7 »

I can see I've been very remiss about replying to comments here...

mitzie, glad you're enjoying it. Yup, it seemed like a good time for an evil cliffie.

Alle, what makes you think you'd be happier at the end of chapter 3? Just sayin'... :evillaugh: And yes, I do see Josef in very nice duds like that. Perhaps in black and gold, rather than black and silver, however. (And random historical fact...that same Bat Masterson who was famous in the West, also spent some time as a sportswriter in New York City. I forget which paper.)

Ah, francis, but I love to hear you speculate! Slade does have some, uh, changes coming in his life.

Lady A, if Josef carries a cane, odds are pretty good it has a sword concealed inside it. And yes, Iris is not the most pleasant of women, but she does have some redeeming qualities. I promise!

Cassy,
Although if Iris is a pretty fair actress maybe Josef should suggest she act like a good traveling companion.
--this cracked me up. Josef's snark is rubbing off on you!

JIMS, M_V--I'd love to apologize about the cliffie, but hey, not gonna. Nail-biting is good for you, on occasion.

tucutecats, thanks, honey. :heart:

jen, ranger, we'll be seeing more in the next chapter, but don't be surprised if it doesn't answer ALL your questions. It may even raise more.

Blue, nice one. Good to see the atmosphere is coming through.

And MS, well, Josef has made that trip before, 'round the Horn, and I've gotta tell you, he didn't find it particularly restful. (What's that you say? I haven't written that one yet? *ahem* sometime, I hope...he hasn't told me all the details, just yet.)

Thanks again, everyone, for reading and commenting!

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Re: Dust, chapter 2 PG-13

Post by Lilly »

I just love the way you've painted the early morning melancholy at the beginning of this chapter. The counterpoint between Slade, grousing as he works at a job he clearly hates, and Josef, uncomfortable and out of his element, is really quite striking. They both seem to have found themselves having to make the best of distasteful situations -- one man angry and complaining and the other quietly resolved to what lies ahead. The mood here is as thick as the fog, and although the action picks up later, this is my favorite part of the chapter.
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