Gray Sage
Beware the JubJub Bird
Where traitors die and cattle roam.
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Fantasy The Treacherous West
Gray Sage
Beware the JubJub Bird
Maria flipped her wet hair up so it slapped against her back. Her breath puffing in the chilly morning air, the freshness of the little stream gave her new life after traveling in the desert for so long. She wiped her face again, rubbing her eyes and letting the cold water drift down her neck, taking the dust of her travels with it.
Frida neighed beside her, as if rolling her eyes at Maria’s dramatic washing habits.
“Oh shut up.” Maria splashed some water at the horse. “We should make it to the city today, and we have to make a good impression. Hopefully no one around here has heard about our last screw up.” The horse snorted. “Ok, my screw up.” She wondered what she would do if they decided not to hire her. She couldn’t afford to lose a case. Not with the way her last few cases had gone. Maybe she was losing her touch?
She threw her bandana down into the water to wash it, the running water paining her joints as she scrubbed the fabric. Despite the cool morning, she wanted to bathe and wash her clothes before she got into town where it would cost something to get clean. She was running low on funds, maybe another month of traveling left in her pocket, and with her losing streak she didn’t want to risk gambling. Of course… she did know how to pickpocket…
She slapped the handkerchief in the water again at the thought. She didn’t like that she entertained thoughts like that, but she wasn’t about to be desperate. She shivered after awhile, hanging her wet clothes on the branch of a barren looking tree, hoping the breeze would dry them before noon. She reached into her pack, grabbing a small comb and a bruised apple for breakfast. She combed through her wet tangled mop of hair pulling it into two long braids, draped over her shoulders. Whenever she wore her hair like this she felt it brought out the Indian in her features.
Maria munched on her apple while Frida sought out whatever grass she could find, as the landscape was slowly morphing from desert to greener terrain. She anxiously pondered the results of this meeting. How would the governor receive her? She shifted uncomfortably in the dirt. Still, from what she could remember of the city, it was lacking in corruption, so whatever Governor Young wanted her to find, she was confident it wouldn’t call her morals into question, not to mention bring a handsome reward.
The morning dragged on and the sun grew warmer. By her account, they would reach the city by the evening. Her efforts to clean would probably have a coat of dust on them by then, but at least it wasn’t a week’s worth. Once her trousers, tunic, socks, bandana, and undergarments were dried, she pulled out her chewstick and pine needles to clean her teeth, a habit strictly observed by her tribe that she had never forgotten. She even took the time to clean her rifle and percussion revolver. She refilled her canteens with water from the brook and laced Frida with her pack and supplies. Finally, topping her head with her hat, strapping her rifle to her back and revolver at her hip, she turned to Frida.
“Are you ready for this?” She asked. The horse stayed silent, looking at Maria with her shiny black eyes. “Yeah, me either.” Maria mounted the mare and gently kicked her spurs to set her on course. They took off in a spry gallop, running south, straight for the snow capped mountains that surrounded Salt Lake City.
Frida neighed beside her, as if rolling her eyes at Maria’s dramatic washing habits.
“Oh shut up.” Maria splashed some water at the horse. “We should make it to the city today, and we have to make a good impression. Hopefully no one around here has heard about our last screw up.” The horse snorted. “Ok, my screw up.” She wondered what she would do if they decided not to hire her. She couldn’t afford to lose a case. Not with the way her last few cases had gone. Maybe she was losing her touch?
She threw her bandana down into the water to wash it, the running water paining her joints as she scrubbed the fabric. Despite the cool morning, she wanted to bathe and wash her clothes before she got into town where it would cost something to get clean. She was running low on funds, maybe another month of traveling left in her pocket, and with her losing streak she didn’t want to risk gambling. Of course… she did know how to pickpocket…
She slapped the handkerchief in the water again at the thought. She didn’t like that she entertained thoughts like that, but she wasn’t about to be desperate. She shivered after awhile, hanging her wet clothes on the branch of a barren looking tree, hoping the breeze would dry them before noon. She reached into her pack, grabbing a small comb and a bruised apple for breakfast. She combed through her wet tangled mop of hair pulling it into two long braids, draped over her shoulders. Whenever she wore her hair like this she felt it brought out the Indian in her features.
Maria munched on her apple while Frida sought out whatever grass she could find, as the landscape was slowly morphing from desert to greener terrain. She anxiously pondered the results of this meeting. How would the governor receive her? She shifted uncomfortably in the dirt. Still, from what she could remember of the city, it was lacking in corruption, so whatever Governor Young wanted her to find, she was confident it wouldn’t call her morals into question, not to mention bring a handsome reward.
The morning dragged on and the sun grew warmer. By her account, they would reach the city by the evening. Her efforts to clean would probably have a coat of dust on them by then, but at least it wasn’t a week’s worth. Once her trousers, tunic, socks, bandana, and undergarments were dried, she pulled out her chewstick and pine needles to clean her teeth, a habit strictly observed by her tribe that she had never forgotten. She even took the time to clean her rifle and percussion revolver. She refilled her canteens with water from the brook and laced Frida with her pack and supplies. Finally, topping her head with her hat, strapping her rifle to her back and revolver at her hip, she turned to Frida.
“Are you ready for this?” She asked. The horse stayed silent, looking at Maria with her shiny black eyes. “Yeah, me either.” Maria mounted the mare and gently kicked her spurs to set her on course. They took off in a spry gallop, running south, straight for the snow capped mountains that surrounded Salt Lake City.
ragingviking
what a beautiful poison..
The town slowly began to wake as the people bustled about. The baker's oven was already hot and baking as the sun kissed the top of the chimney of his oven. The sound of chickens and pigs screaming their last breath carried in the morning breeze as the butcher prepared a new slaughter for the day. The sound of hooves clicking along the paved road with wagons rolling behind them echoed out between the buildings as new vegetables were brought in from the farmers to sell in the marketplace. The click of the store doors unlocking softly trickled in between the crowds of people.
Kain laid lazily on the ground as the sun showed through the trees. The soft summer breeze blew through the rocks, carrying dust and sand. Kain slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the brown canvas of the tent he set up last night. Kain lifted his arms over his head and stretched his whole body as he grunted, "Jesus...," Kain said as he sat and grabbed his black pants, sliding them up to his legs and scooting his butt up as he quickly slipped them up. he grabbed his blue shirt and slid it over his sore shoulders, buttoning it up and finally stepping outside. Kain slipped his feet into his boots as he took a deep breath of the mid-day air. The beautiful view of the arches of Utah graced his eyes as he looked around. Small smoldering coals sat in a small group, the remnants of a campfire. Kain looked to his left and saw his prisoner still tied up. "oh good you're finally awake, I was worried you'd let me boil in this heat" The man said with harshness in his tone. Kain went over to his horse and grabbed the canteen hanging on his saddle. Kain walked over to the tide up man and unscrewed the cap, throwing a splash of water onto the man's face. The man gasped and began to start screaming at Kain angrily with very choice words.
Kain turned around and screwed the cap back on, walking to the horse and setting the canteen on his saddle. "there now you won't boil" Kain grinned at the man slyly before turning back to the horse. Kain walked to his tent and kicked the stick holding it up. It promptly fell down and Kain rolled up the tent. He tied it and set it on the back of the horse's saddle. "OK shut up or I kick your teeth in," Kain said as he walked over to the tied-up man. The man promptly shut his mouth remembering what happened last time he didn't stop talking. Kirt untied the rope tied to the tree, leaving the man still tied up in a different set of ropes. Kain picked the tied-up man up and threw him over his shoulder. Kain set him on his horse behind his saddle and promptly pulled on the man's restraints, making him cry out in pain. "God damn you," The man said as he glared at Kain. Kain looked down at his boots to see if his spurs were on and mounted his horse. "alright, keep quiet and we might make it to Salt lake without anything finding us," Kain said as he dug his spurs into the horse, "HYUP" Kain called out as the horse neighed and began to trot down through the wilderness. Kain looked out over the wilderness and grabbed his reins, keeping them tight on his hands, leading his horse through the wilderness and between the rocks.
Kain reached down and grabbed the neck of his banjo, sitting by his right leg as it hung off the horse. He played through a few strings, turning his tuner knobs. He strummed the strings and heard a perfect chime. he began to pluck away at a slow song as the horse trotted along the trail, the city in sight not too far away as the sun hung low just above the horizon behind him. "well the music is nice I guess," the man said as he hung on the rear of the horse. Kain paid no attention to him, the man was particularly annoying to his normal bounty victims. As Kain rode into town People tipped their hats to him as he rode by, and Kain tipped his hat back. The people of salt lake city knew Kain's face well. He was a bounty hunter but never stayed long in town. Kain wasn't too fond of Salt lake city and didn't tend to stay long in town, but visited it frequently since they tend to pay well. He looked around, eyeing the big white temple, still in construction, sitting in the center of the town. Kain stopped outside the deputy's office and hitched his horse to the post dug into the ground. He grabbed the man off his horse and carried him inside. he slammed the man down onto the ground, the man crying out in pain from his already tight arms being hit. "there you go deputy, one William Grottedge" Kain said as he kicked the man over to his other side so his face faced the deputy. The deputy didn't look up from the paper he was writing. "Nicely done kain, good to see you're workin' hard as ever," The deputy said as he took out the pen he was writing from its holster on his desk. The Deputy looked up and sighed as he looked down at the man, "alright, how much do I owe ya" The deputy said as he pulled his checkbook. Kain pulled the wanted poster out and read it, "bout 13" Kain said as he set the paper down on the deputy's desk. The Deputy grabbed his pen and wrote out 1,300$ on the check. he tore it off and held it out "alright, here you go," The Deputy said as Kain took the check, folding it and stuffing it into his pocket. The deputy grabbed the man and dragged him into a jail cell, slamming the door shut. Kain walked out and walked down to the bank, cashing in his check and getting handed a bag of money. Kain took it and walked out, slipping it into his horse's saddle, making sure no one was looking when he did.
Kain laid lazily on the ground as the sun showed through the trees. The soft summer breeze blew through the rocks, carrying dust and sand. Kain slowly opened his eyes and looked up at the brown canvas of the tent he set up last night. Kain lifted his arms over his head and stretched his whole body as he grunted, "Jesus...," Kain said as he sat and grabbed his black pants, sliding them up to his legs and scooting his butt up as he quickly slipped them up. he grabbed his blue shirt and slid it over his sore shoulders, buttoning it up and finally stepping outside. Kain slipped his feet into his boots as he took a deep breath of the mid-day air. The beautiful view of the arches of Utah graced his eyes as he looked around. Small smoldering coals sat in a small group, the remnants of a campfire. Kain looked to his left and saw his prisoner still tied up. "oh good you're finally awake, I was worried you'd let me boil in this heat" The man said with harshness in his tone. Kain went over to his horse and grabbed the canteen hanging on his saddle. Kain walked over to the tide up man and unscrewed the cap, throwing a splash of water onto the man's face. The man gasped and began to start screaming at Kain angrily with very choice words.
Kain turned around and screwed the cap back on, walking to the horse and setting the canteen on his saddle. "there now you won't boil" Kain grinned at the man slyly before turning back to the horse. Kain walked to his tent and kicked the stick holding it up. It promptly fell down and Kain rolled up the tent. He tied it and set it on the back of the horse's saddle. "OK shut up or I kick your teeth in," Kain said as he walked over to the tied-up man. The man promptly shut his mouth remembering what happened last time he didn't stop talking. Kirt untied the rope tied to the tree, leaving the man still tied up in a different set of ropes. Kain picked the tied-up man up and threw him over his shoulder. Kain set him on his horse behind his saddle and promptly pulled on the man's restraints, making him cry out in pain. "God damn you," The man said as he glared at Kain. Kain looked down at his boots to see if his spurs were on and mounted his horse. "alright, keep quiet and we might make it to Salt lake without anything finding us," Kain said as he dug his spurs into the horse, "HYUP" Kain called out as the horse neighed and began to trot down through the wilderness. Kain looked out over the wilderness and grabbed his reins, keeping them tight on his hands, leading his horse through the wilderness and between the rocks.
Kain reached down and grabbed the neck of his banjo, sitting by his right leg as it hung off the horse. He played through a few strings, turning his tuner knobs. He strummed the strings and heard a perfect chime. he began to pluck away at a slow song as the horse trotted along the trail, the city in sight not too far away as the sun hung low just above the horizon behind him. "well the music is nice I guess," the man said as he hung on the rear of the horse. Kain paid no attention to him, the man was particularly annoying to his normal bounty victims. As Kain rode into town People tipped their hats to him as he rode by, and Kain tipped his hat back. The people of salt lake city knew Kain's face well. He was a bounty hunter but never stayed long in town. Kain wasn't too fond of Salt lake city and didn't tend to stay long in town, but visited it frequently since they tend to pay well. He looked around, eyeing the big white temple, still in construction, sitting in the center of the town. Kain stopped outside the deputy's office and hitched his horse to the post dug into the ground. He grabbed the man off his horse and carried him inside. he slammed the man down onto the ground, the man crying out in pain from his already tight arms being hit. "there you go deputy, one William Grottedge" Kain said as he kicked the man over to his other side so his face faced the deputy. The deputy didn't look up from the paper he was writing. "Nicely done kain, good to see you're workin' hard as ever," The deputy said as he took out the pen he was writing from its holster on his desk. The Deputy looked up and sighed as he looked down at the man, "alright, how much do I owe ya" The deputy said as he pulled his checkbook. Kain pulled the wanted poster out and read it, "bout 13" Kain said as he set the paper down on the deputy's desk. The Deputy grabbed his pen and wrote out 1,300$ on the check. he tore it off and held it out "alright, here you go," The Deputy said as Kain took the check, folding it and stuffing it into his pocket. The deputy grabbed the man and dragged him into a jail cell, slamming the door shut. Kain walked out and walked down to the bank, cashing in his check and getting handed a bag of money. Kain took it and walked out, slipping it into his horse's saddle, making sure no one was looking when he did.
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Gray Sage
Beware the JubJub Bird
Salt Lake bustled in the mid afternoon. It was busier than Maria had expected, with a good number of wagons congesting the roads, traders and merchants loading and unloading their goods. Businessmen and women stood outside their stores, watching the traffic as they awaited their next customers.
Maria liked the city. It was always a nice change in pace to the stillness of the prairies and deserts. Her inquisitive mind always liked seeing the different types of people who crowded the streets: those who had traveled from afar, or knew of some remedy or technique she could add to her arsenal. Perhaps she would meet someone who would change her life forever. That was the beauty of a crowd. You never knew what story each new face was holding.
She had made a number of friends in cities all over the west that way. Those whose personalities impressed her with their authenticity, and who were brave enough to see past her reputation.
Though she had been to Salt Lake before, she had to stop for directions four times to find the corner of the city where her meeting was to take place. The first time, the man spat at her, calling her a vulgar name attributed to her heritage. The second sent her in the opposite direction, which she chose to believe was an honest mistake. The third pretended not to hear her, even after making eye contact. And the fourth finally lent her good advice, sending her toward the right street.
Her destination was a government building that apparently doubled as a Consulate and a Courthouse. Its architecture was quite impressive for being so young a city, and looked to take pride in its proceedings. Luckily, it was situated next to a fabulously equipped inn that offered to take and tend Frida for a modest price while she stayed overnight.
She checked into a room, leaving her meager belongings on the quilt laden bed, and giving herself a look in the vanity. She was dirty and disheveled. Her morning bath in the brook had done her fewer favors than she’d imagined. Still, she was a lovely creature, getting the best features from both her parents. She stared back into her own eyes, finding it strange to see her reflection for the first time in weeks.
It was her original intention to arrive in the city the day before. She had wanted to get settled and comfortable with her surroundings before meeting with the Governor, whom she was supposed to meet with that evening. But, annoyances on the road had put her drastically behind schedule, so she had arrived less prepared. She hated that.
Still, she had a few hours to get her bearings, and just as she was wondering where she should start, her stomach complained that the withering apple from earlier was no longer sufficient.
Maria set off down the streets to find a saloon, with the hopes that they would serve Mexicans, being such a religious city. It didn’t take her long to smell some chicken wafting through the air, and the growl in her stomach got feistier. The saloon in question, The Salty Pink, had music pouring out of it as she glided through its swinging doors.
It was crowded enough that not many of the occupants noticed her entrance, but she took note of the room’s greatest threats, as she always did. A bar stool remained unoccupied, and the mustached bartender gave her an acknowledging nod as she approached.
“Fire Whiskey, water, and whatever you’ve got cooking out back, please.” Maria ordered. The bartender’s boy ran to the back for the food, and soon enough Maria’s drinks were placed in front of her. She gingerly sipped as she took in the spot.
The pianist played a gay tune Maria thought she recognized but didn’t care enough to place. There was a balconied second floor, a few scantily clad women looking down over the scene. A poker game took place in the corner, while indiscriminate pairs ate their luncheon at scattered tables around the joint.
Maria watched the cowboys picking up their dirty cards with each round, a wave of guffaws and laughter following each play.
“Señorita?” The bartender laid down her food, but she found herself making eye contact with one of the gamblers, a toothpick on his tongue. Their stare lingered, something between them. Recognition? Suspicion? Curiosity? She tore her gaze away to circle around to her meal, absolutely famished.
The bartender smiled at her as she began to eat. She liked him, and would remember to pay him well.
Maria liked the city. It was always a nice change in pace to the stillness of the prairies and deserts. Her inquisitive mind always liked seeing the different types of people who crowded the streets: those who had traveled from afar, or knew of some remedy or technique she could add to her arsenal. Perhaps she would meet someone who would change her life forever. That was the beauty of a crowd. You never knew what story each new face was holding.
She had made a number of friends in cities all over the west that way. Those whose personalities impressed her with their authenticity, and who were brave enough to see past her reputation.
Though she had been to Salt Lake before, she had to stop for directions four times to find the corner of the city where her meeting was to take place. The first time, the man spat at her, calling her a vulgar name attributed to her heritage. The second sent her in the opposite direction, which she chose to believe was an honest mistake. The third pretended not to hear her, even after making eye contact. And the fourth finally lent her good advice, sending her toward the right street.
Her destination was a government building that apparently doubled as a Consulate and a Courthouse. Its architecture was quite impressive for being so young a city, and looked to take pride in its proceedings. Luckily, it was situated next to a fabulously equipped inn that offered to take and tend Frida for a modest price while she stayed overnight.
She checked into a room, leaving her meager belongings on the quilt laden bed, and giving herself a look in the vanity. She was dirty and disheveled. Her morning bath in the brook had done her fewer favors than she’d imagined. Still, she was a lovely creature, getting the best features from both her parents. She stared back into her own eyes, finding it strange to see her reflection for the first time in weeks.
It was her original intention to arrive in the city the day before. She had wanted to get settled and comfortable with her surroundings before meeting with the Governor, whom she was supposed to meet with that evening. But, annoyances on the road had put her drastically behind schedule, so she had arrived less prepared. She hated that.
Still, she had a few hours to get her bearings, and just as she was wondering where she should start, her stomach complained that the withering apple from earlier was no longer sufficient.
Maria set off down the streets to find a saloon, with the hopes that they would serve Mexicans, being such a religious city. It didn’t take her long to smell some chicken wafting through the air, and the growl in her stomach got feistier. The saloon in question, The Salty Pink, had music pouring out of it as she glided through its swinging doors.
It was crowded enough that not many of the occupants noticed her entrance, but she took note of the room’s greatest threats, as she always did. A bar stool remained unoccupied, and the mustached bartender gave her an acknowledging nod as she approached.
“Fire Whiskey, water, and whatever you’ve got cooking out back, please.” Maria ordered. The bartender’s boy ran to the back for the food, and soon enough Maria’s drinks were placed in front of her. She gingerly sipped as she took in the spot.
The pianist played a gay tune Maria thought she recognized but didn’t care enough to place. There was a balconied second floor, a few scantily clad women looking down over the scene. A poker game took place in the corner, while indiscriminate pairs ate their luncheon at scattered tables around the joint.
Maria watched the cowboys picking up their dirty cards with each round, a wave of guffaws and laughter following each play.
“Señorita?” The bartender laid down her food, but she found herself making eye contact with one of the gamblers, a toothpick on his tongue. Their stare lingered, something between them. Recognition? Suspicion? Curiosity? She tore her gaze away to circle around to her meal, absolutely famished.
The bartender smiled at her as she began to eat. She liked him, and would remember to pay him well.
