Candy

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Jack was aware of Reuben’s approach first. His brisk trot became a little offbeat, he grunted and shot a blast of air from his nostrils, informing Abigail of the soon-to-have company. She tensed a little inwardly, keeping her cool facade, not even looking back while continuing on her path, now listening at the sound of the horse and rider closing in from behind.

It wasn’t obviously Reuben, but whoever it was didn’t pose any immediate threat, since Jack would have reacted differently had he picked up on any reason for further warning. He was intuitive like that. Still, she did take the precaution of placing one hand on her Colt until Reuben strode up alongside and made his identity known. He immediately started yacking. Apparently, a little travel time gets his tongue to wagging more than what was fitting for a man of his stature. Nevertheless, the man had done himself a little physical upkeep since she’d viewed him last, the trimming of his beard being one of those things. He wasn’t half bad looking to be honest about it and, in contempt of his grooming, managed to keep his ruggedly masculine appeal.

– Life was funny like that. Despite what Jacob Manning and his gang had done to her and her family, Abigail hadn’t lost her physical attraction for men, especially those a little on the older, rugged side. In fact, in some peculiar way, that traumatizing experience may have even had an influence on the contrary to what one might expect. Not that she’d ever be willing to tell anybody that, or even admit it to herself –

She eased back on Jack, allowing Reuben and herself to keep an easier pace together, but she gave Reuben no more than a nod and a fleeting glance to acknowledge his presence. Otherwise she didn’t respond, not so much as an expression to break her cool, that was until he happened to mention the dark stranger he had seen earlier –

Her complexion paled a touch, lips parted slightly, eyes widened. It wasn’t too dramatic, maybe no more than the look of someone who just realized they left the stove burning before leaving the house that morning. It would have however been enough for Reuben to take note of her concern. Oddly enough, she avoided remarking on Reuben’s query, instead reverting to a former topic he had passed by. Her facial expression relaxed to its former cool state as she spoke:

“I waited just out of town till the sun was clear up. Had myself a tad issue prevent'n me from wait'n at a more convenient placing.” She gives Reuben a portioned smile. “Good to see you had no problem track’n me along this single path.” Inspecting Reuben’s mare genially for a moment, she adds; “Jack still has his stud danglers about him, so I’m guess’n he might try mounting that fine gal of yours at some point.” She laughed real lightly, possibly amused by her own stroke of humor. “In any case, I’m glad you made it. Bout time a man had his own balls in tack enough to make an effort under these circumstances. Shows suitable poise in my book.”

Regardless of her banter and persistent cool demeanor, Reuben’s mentioning of the dark stranger had not escaped her thoughts. She inevitably returned to the topic, bit her lip for a second, then shifted a disquisitive glance in Reuben’s general direction.

“I ain’t gonna sully the truth of the matter, I know I’m at a sweet age and not too bad to be look’n at for any man. Gal like me riding alone as I have, it’s bound to attract a hot blooded stalker or two along the way. Don’t let it worry you none at all.” The fact that she was holding back information, yet wasn't at all intimidated by Reuben's blunt interest, may have been evident by her following inquisition;

“Did he have himself a riffle - hat seen well more than its fair share of use?”

While she’s asking the question, Abigail Kate drew a pocket size bottle of whisky from her saddlebag and extended it to Reuben. “Since I’m doubt'n we’ll be making it to the next town before nightfall and we will no doubt be required to set up camp out here - and see’n you’re highly unlikely to be using my prime body for comfort at this point - I’ve taken it upon myself to provide a different variety of sleep’n aid for ya.” Strapped with string to the bottle was a crisp hundred dollar bill. “I’ll be give’n ya the rest of the payment once the job is done.”

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Sounds great! Glad it's turning out for you :)

Don't worry too much. I don't mind waiting and don't like pressure, so it's fine! Just make it worth the wait or I'll scale the earth hunting you down and castrate you! No pressure at all XD

But really you're doing very good. I'm happy you're my partner!

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

It's a little strange, usually go with sci-fi, but it isn't something I usually read. I think I like writing it because it tends to have less boundaries in a what-could-be-possible standpoint. I usually prefer comedy when writing too, so a mix of both, but comedy is probably the hardest thing to pull off satisfactorily (Douglas Adams is basically my hero when it comes to comedy). How about yourself?

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

nice! I also dabble a little in an attempt to write books :3

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Good to see the Guild is back to functioning normally again! XD

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Thank you! I love that you're intrigued by her! I've been aiming to keep certain aspects of just who she is a mystery to unfold in time.

And I don't want you to worry about my vague handling of Reuben, I only did what I deemed necessary to set up the atmosphere of a passing scene and ensure no communication was made with the mystery man. It wasn't intending to play your character at all! (in case you were wondering) I may be GM but I honestly don't like controlling other players character and I expect no one to do that to my characters either. It's more interesting if partners have a lot of freedom to move around :)

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Once Reuben no less than politely shut the door after him, Abigail remained waiting on the bed for him to return for the bottle he’d left behind. Surprisingly, only a little time passed before she heard Reuben ridding himself of the whore in his room in a not so pleasant manner. Thin walls. A minute or two after that, she heard the whore tramping past her own door on rout back down to the saloon.

“He ain’t coming back for his bottle….” She uttered with the forming of a grin and the narrowing of her eyes, fixated curiosly on the friend he’d so easily forsaken. It was surprising just how many discrepancies came to the mind from this one act alone; one minute he’s given to drink and whoring, next minute he’s the preacher’s son. Now Abigail didn’t mind the prospect of a man giving up his sordid ways for a noble cause, of sorts, but she hadn’t come down in the last rainfall either. She was more than well aware of the grip the bottle can have on a man, far be it the man on the bottle. Given this unstable behavior, which may have very well been a common and repeated practice for a man of weak will, it was all very likely a sobering sleep would have him thinking twice about the decision he made tonight. But then… maybe he’d manage to surprise her once again. Either way it didn’t really matter none, if he succeeded in letting her down, she could always just go on ahead and find someone with more of a stable inclination to fill his boots.

As for Abigail, well, sleeping wasn’t on the agenda for the time being. She’d done enough of that in the wilderness two miles out of town earlier that day. Right now she had herself some further business to conduct. Kicking her feet from the bed she sat up, holstering her colt, rubbing her legs, gazing out at the darkness through the open shutter of the window, giving careful foresight to her next due course of action. …Things were gonna get dirty.

She slipped on her black leather gloves.

---

Audrey Springs. Higgins General Store, 10:45 PM.

“We’re closed!"

John Higgins was a little more than startled at the thumping on his door. He stood stricken for a moment, one arm stacked with packaged beef jerky he’d been replenishing the rack on his service counter with. He had to consider his situation for a moment, confirming in his own mind that it was, indeed, well past the hours of trading.

“You’ll have to come back in the morning! You hear?”

A second, louder rapping at the door did not cease to alarm John, this time causing the cradled jerky to loose from his arm. The packaged meat was still settling in a scattered mess on the floor when he turned and unhooked the rifle from the wall. Kicking the jerky from his path, he edged his way to the end of the counter, crouching in the shadow of the rack he had been aiming to replenish.

“I told you already!” He hollered, unable to hide his trembles. “Trading Post is closed for this day. We will be open again at eight in the AM. I would be much obliged if you were kind enough to return at that time!”

A third procession of heavy rapping rattled the door in its frame, but this time the knocking was followed up by a females voice calling in at him –

“Mr. I need your help! Please open this door – I’m in a desperate situation out here!”

John was not good at determining a person’s age by their voice alone, but this particular voice had no doubt been born of a lady in her youth. Despite its nonthreatening appeal, he did not recognize the voice as any of his many acquaintances in the town Audrey Springs. Still, the age and gender of the visitor was enough have him loosen his grip on the rifle, just a smidgen, as his posture straightened some as well. He stepped out from the shadow, angling his head to stare curiously down the aisle. Unfortunately, the nightlight lantern dangling from the ceiling did not prove successful in illuminating any image beyond the upper glass fixture of the doorframe.

“Desperate or no, Miss….” John took two paces toward the door; “You will need to return in the morning or go seek assistance at the saloon across the way.”

“I can’t do that!” She replied, her voice distinct with panic. “I’m just a young girl – I be scared of them folks! Please, Mr. I need your help right straight! Me and my parents were attacked by bandits some distance out of town. I’ve ran all this way. My daddy be dead. My mamma be wounded and bleed’n bad. I do not expect you to leave the safety of your home, but I would be in your debt if you allowed me take some supplies. I need be tending to my mother’s wounds.”

“This is a trading post, Miss! It is not my duty to be tending to such drama. You will be needing to see the sheriff about that!”

“I have already attempted to do just that!” The girl paused before commencing, the anxiety in her voice rising a considerable amount; “But the sheriff did not answer my calling. I do believe he’s otherwise occupied at this time, which is why I am at your very door – I am asking for your help, Mr. Please have mercy. My mother does not have all night. If you could please just find in your heart to help.”

John continued to edge ever closer to the door, one finger tapping the forestock of his riffle in careful deliberation. “How do I know you’re not accompanied by others, little Miss? I’ve been beguiled before on none too few occasions. Now be gone with ya! Return in the morning or head on over to the saloon. I’m confident you’d find a man or two there willing to help a young lady like yourself.”

At the closing of his words, John could hear the girl beginning to cry, her tone breaking with emotion and sniffling back a breath between each pleading phrase she spoke; "I-I’m just s-so scared right now, Mr. …My daddy always told me not to enter them s-saloons alone…. But he’s all dead now, he is…. I’m really, really scared – please…. All I need is a little help. ….Please don’t let my mamma die as well.”

“Shit…” John completed his creeping to the door, bringing his face right close to the glass as to take a good look outside. He couldn’t view anything at first, not until he rolled his eyes down to see just one small person standing there. She had her head hung low, the top of her hat being all he could see, that, and a portion of her shoulder, which faintly displayed the shrugs of her continued sobbing. “You sure you’re all alone, little Miss?”

Th-that I am…. Please just help me, Mr…. My daddy be dead….”

Taking a step back, John lowered his rifle in one hand and fished the key from his pant pocket with the other. With the key in hand, he paused for an instant, calming his nerves before unlocking the door, leaving the key in the hole as he turned the handle. The door swung open in a hurry as the young lady rushed her way through the threshold, head still lowered as she passed him by. He swiftly shut the door behind her, locked it, and then turned around to meet the barrel of a gun staring him dead in the eye.

John let out a long, shaken sigh as he just then realized he’d been beguiled once again. That was the third time this month someone had managed to get the better of his bleeding heart in some manner or another. As his eyes shifted from the barrel in his face, he took focus on the girl. She was standing side-on, feet apart, face covered by a neckerchief, dry eyes barely visible in the shadow of her hat.

“Well, God damn it all to hell, you shifty bitch….”

“To be perfectly honest with ya…” She replied, her softly rasped voice no longer exhibiting the vaguest hint of emotion; “…getting past your door was harder than I had anticipated. So Kudos to you, Mr.” Her gloved finger gently caressed the trigger, barrel steady as any man could hold on target. “Now listen real close to my words. You attempt make’n a peep or raise that there rifle against me, and I’ll decorate your shop with them brains of yours. Now here’s what I want you to do….. You’re gonna extend that arm real slow and place that weapon on the counter. Then, without even so much as one word from your mouth, you’re gonna take two steps to your left and lay yourself face down on the floor. After that, you’re gonna place your hands behind your back and bend them knees of yours. Give me a nod of that ugly head if you understand.”

Johns face had become pale, a tickle of sweat was beading its way down his forehead, a tear of humility in his eye as he regrettably nodded confirmation. Following this, he did just as she had suggested. She may have just been a young woman, and none one too big a girl at that, but her unprecedented whit and cold words had him taking no chances with his life. This clearly wasn’t her first armed holdup.

Abigail kept her colt steadily aimed until John had laid himself down as specified. She then fetched a length of rope, made herself a double noose knot, and thread both of his hands through the nooses before tying the loose ends to his ankles.

“More ya struggle the tighter them knots’ll get.” She tells him, commencing her prowling of the store. “Now just hold tight and quiet like. I’ll be gone before you know it.”

The only utterings John made were a few little grunting sobs while Abigail took her pick of certain foodstuffs and other essentials, including a pretty sum of dollars from the cash drawer. She stuffed most of the contents in a cloth sack and, as a last little spoil, grabbed a handful of lemon flavored penny candy from a jar on the service counter. She shoved the candy in her trouser pocket.

Before leaving she stood above John, boots almost touching his face as she peered down at him. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Rest assured, I‘ll be reimburse’n everything I owe at some point in the future. I’m a woman of my word – Now don’t go get'n it your head to be blabber'n about all this to any lawman at all. If you do that, the only reason I’ll be return'n is to put a slug in your head. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Wait on just a minute….” John finally found the audacity to speak again, given he figured that one last question wouldn’t be any real issue; “Who in the hell are you, anyway?”

Abigail let out a tiny laugh, though more of mocking one as she stooped down to gag him with a rolled up sock and a cut of cloth. “Wouldn’t be none too sharp of me to be share'n my name with ya, would it, Mr?” Standing up, and since the dirty job of contact was now well and truly over with, she tugged her gloves from her hands and let herself out.

---

A short time before sunrise.

While Reuben was reacquainting himself with his horse, he heard the trot of hooves come to a halt in the doorway of the stable behind him. The identity of the horse and its rider were not evident, silhouetted by the flame of a lamppost outside. Regardless of their details being completely hidden in the black of their profile, it was clear by their size and proportions that the rider was not Kate. They were certainly a man, slouched in his saddle and wearing a broken down broad brim hat, handle of a riffle jotting up from his back, quietly staring long enough for Reuben to understand he was being inspected. Once Reuben had become aware of this, the dark rider continued his eerie watch for a while longer before straightening in his saddle, turned his horse around, and then rode off slowly into what was left of the night.

---

Less than a mile out of town, Abigail was stationary, nestled in her saddle upon the first crest of the southbound track, watching the initial gray tint of dawn beyond the hills to the east of town.

-It was a tad funny in a cute kind of way, being such a small rider on that large, Thoroughbred stallion. Most folk might be inclined to say that Jack was too much horse for a girl like her, but she didn’t give god damn what people thought about it. She loved that horse more than life itself, and the horse loved her just as much straight back. Gender and species aside, Jack and Abigail had a great deal in common – two peas in a pod, one might say; they both had an attitude, they were both very smart, neither of them really trusted anybody, and they both had a certain disdain toward men. Truth is, Abigail was the first person he had ever let ride him. He was a loyal beast, following her everywhere, heeded without prompting and obeyed her every command. In a sense, their relationship was the darnedest thing, magical in a certain way of thinking-

When the sun at last peaked over the eastern hills, she was gently stroking Jack’s mane and talking real soft, relaying her doubts about Reuben ever actually turning up like he said he would. She had decided not to wait around in town, of course, since she didn’t feel it too wise to be hanging around in the morning after robbing the trading post, but she also didn’t see it as much of an issue – If Reuben was just a smidgen of the tracker he claimed to be, there wouldn’t be a problem locating her current position.

Saddlebags fat with provisions, the fresh scent of honeysuckle in the air, and the smallest little welling of a tear in her eye, Abigail waited as long as she was willing before giving up on Reuben – that being until the sun had revealed its whole body in the sky - then took to commencing her journey south…. Just herself and Jack alone, trotting on their way at a brisk, steady pace.

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Sorry about the delay, rl stuff is getting in the way atm. I'll post as soon as I can!

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

It had been quite some time since Abigail wore her heart on her sleeve, and regardless of the gladness she felt when seeing that revitalized glimmer in Reuben’s eyes, her face remained utterly impassive. She maintained her seat on the bed unmoving, the supple definitions of her face seeming sculpture-like as only her eyes followed Rueben’s path. He was, after all, no threat to her. The well-known stories of his past, his respectable reputation and present conversation included, warranted no need for further caution, at least not in… certain regards.

Reuben, however, was still a man, and Abigail hadn’t allowed a man to touch her for coming on many months now. The last man to try and go taking her by the hand had ended up in the shallowest of graves. It was natural for a young lady to crave contact with the opposite of genders from time to time, but the condition of her heart, so be it her disdain toward men, had managed to abstain of such cravings. Nevertheless, she did at this time feel the necessity, or be it the obligation, to meet with Reuben’s deal-closing gesture. He couldn’t have known that by doing something so simple as shaking his hand would make this sole occasion whereof she had any variety of contact with a man, since making the acquaintance of Jacob Manning and his boys.

For the first time since he entered her room, Colt Clementine’s eyes dropped from contact with Reuben’s and fell upon the grizzly extension of his paw. There they remained, staring as if she were looking upon a foreboding darkness. Her cute little button-nose nostrils flared along with her eyes, the sound of her teeth grinding clearly heard as she remembered to breathe. Some sufferable moments later, she forced herself to move, extending her reach to his.

The firm heat of his grasp enclosed her own small hand like a glove. She froze, captured by the callused folds and sweaty textures of his grip. Her body shuttered at his touch. A sharp pain stabbed her heart. She felt the warmth of her blood rush her face. Prickles gamboled on her cheeks. The creeping of non-existent fingertips made their way down to the small of her back, causing her to shift like someone had given her an unwelcome tickle. Her facade had been compromised – the realization of which crafted a cooling flush of relief to then come over her, and in that instant, somehow, her power had been enforced. Her eyes, detached of emotion once more, shot back up to meet Reuben’s as she gave his large hand a firm shake.

At the appropriate timing, she pulled away, yet not abruptly so. She found herself unexpectedly savoring the contact. Her soft, delicate touch danced awkwardly over the contours of his palm and down the length of his fingers as she slowly pulled free of his grip, and then sat herself back against the wall with perceptual ease.

“No need to ru -” She slapped her mouth shut mid-sentence, acknowledging the fact that her voice had the trembles, and took a few shallow, calming breaths before continuing with her prior, unfettered tone. “No need to rush. We’ll be head'n out at dawn, so I’ll be expecting you’d be take’n some precious time with them whores and getting yourself some shuteye before we depart.”

She gracefully returned the Colt to the platform of her thigh while using her other hand to brush back a fall of hair behind her ear. It was so, her hardened disposition and manner of speaking may have given some folk the false impression she was older than she actually was, even to the point of eluding their visual perceptions - but for anyone absent the knowledge of said applications, the silk of her skin, the absence of blemish, the largish of her eyes, and the curved softness of her jawline had no way of establishing her appearance a day over fifteen. By strictly all visual and thus deceptive accounts, Colt Clementine was the sweetest little thing to be viewing.

“I have no intention of shirk’n payment for any services rendered. I ain’t expect’n any man to make his mark in my life for pure satisfaction of do’n a just deed for a tender little filly. So don’t you worry none at all about your worldly treasures, you’ll be no less than well compensated for your talents and time. My word is my honor, secure as houses on stone.”

She gives Ruben a deliberate looking up and down, narrowing one eye with some finalizing scrutiny.

“And just one last thing….” She smiles. This act was unlike her prior effort, and could have been coveted as the most attractive gift in all of God’s grand creation. It was enough for a eunuch to feel the lure of. “Welcome back to the living, Mr. Luckshot.”

While her smile ran away, a short wave of her Colt turns Reuben’s attention toward the exit.

“Be sure to close the door on your way out.”

Retribution [The Legend of Colt Clementine]

Yay! Colt Clementine has herself a companion! You broadened Reuben's personality well. Even reminded me to add a little detail to Colt's appearance over the next few posts. Really excellent work there!