Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The Unexpected Request - Part 55

Good Morning Western Wednesday Readers!
I'm sure you are all wanting the next part. Well, here it is. And don't forget to check for publishing updates on Rebekah's Reading Books.

Part 55

“So that’s why ya rode in an’ said ya had ta leave,” Carson interjected. “Ya sure was closed mouthed ‘bout it all.”
“Jest didn’t want Pa or Sally ta know nothin’. They’d a worried. Least ways Sally would a.” Ty paused a moment before going on. “Pa was dyin’ an’ Sally had wrote ta me tellin’ ‘bout his bein’ sick. We weren’t there more’n a couple days but someone got wind a me bein’ back or comin’ back an’ we had ta light out again.”
“Don’t you have a sheriff out your way?”
“Nope.” Ty shook his head.
“Well!” Sheriff Owen looked astonished. “How long was Bartram around your parts?”
“’Bout two, three years ‘fore I left, I reckon,” replied Ty after thinking a moment.
“Two or three years,” the sheriff mused. “But you left about three years ago . . . Yes, . . . that might fit . . . I wonder if it’s still there?”
“What they hid?” Carson asked.
“Yeah. What do you think, Ty?”
Ty shrugged. “Could be. If’n they’re still wantin’ ta silence me, I wouldn’t be surprised if’n it were there. But then ‘gain . . .”
“It might not be,” finished the sheriff. “I know.
“Do ya know what they might a been hidin’ Sheriff?” asked Carson, quite curious.
The sheriff stroked his chin, stared at the opposite wall and frowned before saying slowly, “It could be money from a stage coach robbery that happened three and a half years ago. They never did find the gold. At least not that I know of.
The three men sat in silence as the rain poured down outside, turning the dust of the streets into mud. The lightning flashed in dazzling display of electric beauty while the thunder rumbled echoing and re-echoing from mountain to mountain, rolling across the sky like a cannon barrage.
Inside, all was quiet and dry. No one seemed inclined to talk, each was mulling over in his mind what he had heard. At last the sheriff stood up. “Anyone want some coffee?” he asked going over to pour himself another cup.
Both Carson and Ty declined.
“I’m going to wire the U.S. Marshall about those theiving foxes, and I’ll let him know about Bartram too. I have a feeling he’ll be quite interested in it all. You all are sticking around for a while, aren’t you? Thinking of moving here, maybe?” Sheriff Owen tipped his chair back on two legs and leaned against the wall and looked hopeful.
Carson answered after glancing at Ty. “Don’t reckon we’ll be here long lest we have ta. One a our horses threw a shoe an’ we got ta wait fer her ta get well ‘fore we get another one on.”
“Hmm.” The sheriff sighed. “Ty?”
Ty turned from the window. “Yep?”
“You wouldn’t want to consider sticking around here for a while would you?”
Ty eyed the sheriff. What did he have in mind? He had brought in some varmints, why did he want him around longer?
Almost as though he could read his thoughts, Sheriff Owen continued. “You see, this town is pretty rough. I’m the only law around and I’m looking for a deputy. I think you’d make a real good one, and I sure could use you.”
“Me, deputy?” Ty looked incredulous.
“I don’t see why not. You managed to bring those four yahoos in with only one shot fired didn’t you?”
“Carson did most of it.”
“Yep, Sheriff,” Carson grinned, “I stood with a drawn gun while he jest rounded up Shorty an’ Duffer. Disarmin’ Duffer an’ scarin’ Shorty so’s his teeth were knockin’ together. I sure did most.”
Carson and Sheriff Owen laughed while Ty turned back to the window. After their laugh had subsided, the sheriff stood up and strode to Ty’s side. Placing a hand on his shoulder he said, “I mean every word I said, Ty. I really could use you. This whole town could use you. What do you say?”
Ty turned around. His face wore a look of firm determination. “I can’t stick ‘round longer’n I have ta, Sheriff. It’s right nice ta know I’m wanted, but I promised my Pa on his death bed that I’d find my missin’ youngest sister.” He paused, drew a deep breath and then continued. “I ain’t had much ta go off a, but it ain’t been a year an’ I aim ta keep goin’ till I find her. I will keep my word, even if it takes me all my life.” He added the last sentence in tones low and full of feeling.
The rain continued to fall outside and the only sounds heard as Ty finished talking were their drops on the roof and windows. “May it never be said that I kept a man from fulfilling his word.” Sheriff Owen held out his hand and Ty shook it heartily. “So, how long is your horse going to be laid up?” He asked returning to his desk.
“I’d say maybe a couple a days, maybe a week,” Carson answered.
“An’ I reckon we ought ta be goin’ ta check on her an’ find out where Sally is,” Ty put in.
Carson rose. “Reckon we ought.”
“Well,” said the sheriff as his two morning visitors stepped out onto the porch. “If you find out you’ll be here for a week, come and see me. If I had you for a deputy for even a week I’m thinking we could clean up half the town.”
Ty grinned. “Ya’d have ta build yerself a bigger jail first,” he shot back. He couldn’t think of himself as a deputy sheriff. “Let us know if’n ya hear from the U.S. Marshall,” he added, stepping out into the muddy street while Sheriff Owen chuckled.
“I’ll do that,” the sheriff called after them. “Keep your guns dry.”
Neither Ty nor Carson talked as they set off down the street towards the livery and blacksmith’s.
Any thoughts?

Friday, August 26, 2011

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 9

Good Morning FFFs!
The day is starting out beautiful! It is a little chilly so the back door is open onto the screened back porch and the breeze is coming in. I came very close to not posting this morning.:} I was sitting in the living room thinking about playing G-pa in another ping-pong match (We always play best two out of three when we play.) and hadn't even thought of posting once this morning. Then S asked if I had posted! Yikes!

We head home later this morning. Why is it that the days fly when you are on "vacation"? Mom and I went to some used book stores and guess what we got? Books!:) There were a few 'exciting' finds.:)

I haven't written anything at all except here on the posts since I left home Mon. I'll have to get back to it when I get home or I won't have things to post!
Thanks for your comments about chapter titles.:)

Part 9

That first night at the Triple Creek Ranch was, to Orlena, a night never to be forgotten. She had heard her brother and sister-in-law come up the stairs after the sun had almost disappeared leaving her room dusky. She hadn’t lit the lamp for the gloom sooted her mood better. Hearing soft footsteps approaching her door, Orlena stiffened in her chair. Who was it and what did they want? A gentle knock sounded. Then, when she didn’t respond, Jenelle’s voice speaking quietly came through the closed door.
“Good night, Orlena. Sleep well.”
Orlena didn’t reply and the footsteps turned and were soon gone.
Then indeed did this young girl from the city feel alone. Never in all her eleven years of life had she known such stillness. No streetcars going past, no voices down on the sidewalks, no late carriages leaving for or returning from a party, concert or social event. Here all was still and quiet, too quiet, she thought, almost holding her breath in the unfamiliar and, to her, fearful hush which had descended on everything. Not a sound could she hear besides the own beating of her heart.
Suddenly, with trembling fingers, Orlena reached out and lit the lamp. Its bright glow helped to diminish the feelings of terror which had swept over her as Jenelle’s footsteps had died away. This place, she realized with almost a start, this silent, small place was to be her home. Here she must live day after day with her brother and his wife, at least until school started. Eagerly she began trying to count the days left before the new term opened, but the fatigues of the day as well as her passionate outburst had worn down her strength and, after a moment of trying, she gave it up.
Rising slowly, she soon arrayed herself for bed and in disgust, lay down on the neatly made bed and pulled the quilt over herself. She turned down the light but didn’t dare put it out completely. She didn’t know what unknown terrors the night held for her and she didn’t care to face them in the dark in this unfamiliar place.

“Jenelle,” Norman asked as the two of them seated themselves at the breakfast table, “isn’t my sister going to come down?”
Laughing softly, Jenelle poured her husband his coffee before replying. “Darling, you forget that Orlena is a city girl. They don’t eat breakfast at this unearthly hour. Besides, when I looked in at her, she was sound asleep. The poor child is tired. Let her sleep. I’m sure she’ll be down later.”
Though Norman frowned a little, he could see the wisdom in Jenelle’s words and nodded his head.
Jenelle had been right, never had Orlena risen much less breakfasted at such an early hour in her life. When she did awake, the sun was already several hours high. At first she didn’t know where she was and lay staring about her in bewilderment. Then it all came flooding back to her and she sat up. She was at the ranch, her brother’s ranch! It was at that time that she remembered her clothes were still packed in her trunk. In great disgust she unlocked and raised the lid. After several minutes of rummaging around, she finally pulled from its depths the black, silk dress in which Norman had first seen her. Shaking out the folds, she held it up to her and looked into the small mirror on the wall.
“If I wear this, that rude sister-in-law of mine will know that I’m not to be trifled with. And perhaps it will show my brother that I’m not a child to be ordered around.”
It took Orlena longer than usual to dress for she could not just press a button and summon a maid to assist her in buttoning up the thirty-seven buttons which adorned her mourning costume. At last she was ready and, feeling the gnawing pangs of hunger, she ventured forth from her room.
Though she wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone,Orlena was curious, as most younger ones are, and older ones too, when they are in a new place. Moving slowly about, she quietly peered into rooms and looked about before moving down the stairs.
Jenelle was busy churning when Orlena finally swept her way into the kitchen after wandering about the lower regions of the house. Jenelle had heard her come down and decided to let her have some time to explore, knowing that eventually she would end up in the kitchen if she was as hungry as Jenelle imagined her to be.
“Good morning, Orlena,” Jenelle greeted the young girl with a smile, trying not to give a start at the sight of the dress. “I hope you slept well. Norman is already at work in the fields. I imagine you are hungry. Would you prefer to eat in here or in the dining room?”
“Only servants eat in the kitchen,” and Orlena tossed her head disdainfully.
“In that case, suppose you have a seat in the dining room and I’ll soon bring your breakfast to you, unless you would like to stay and watch. The butter has just come and it will only take me a few minutes to work it.” Jenelle had spoken as she would have to anyone, but Orlena rolled her eyes and with a sniff, swept out of the kitchen.
“If she keeps on sweeping about in that dress,” Jenelle murmured to herself as she swiftly set to work salting and patting the butter into balls, “I won’t have to sweep the house.”
Only a few minutes later, Jenelle carried in and set before her young guest a plate of bread and butter, a glass of fresh milk and an egg in an egg cup.
“Where is my coffee?” demanded the girl.
Jenelle raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Coffee?” she repeated, “only Norman and the hands drink coffee.”
“I drink it,” Orlena stated emphatically, “milk is for babies.”

Any new questions for the next part?

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

The Unexpected Request - Part 54

And a Wonderful Western Wednesday to you!
I'm on vacation so this is being posted a little later than normal. Oh well. I didn't really think anyone would mind. :)

I have been busy even if I am on vacation. Yesterday I played two rounds of ping-pong (three games each) with Grandpa, drove for three hours, made corrections and worked on The Unexpected Request and did some other things that need done before I can publish this book. Today I'll go to a used book store with Mom! I love used book stores.:) Who knows, maybe I'll find some really fun, exciting books. I don't mean the stories are exciting but the fact that we found them. But anyway, that is today!

Quick question: Do you think The Unexpected Request should have chapter titles? Please let me know what you think! Thanks!

I hope you all have a delightful Wednesday and stay cool! (If you can!)

Part 54

Ty and Carson waited until Sally had disappeared around the corner before turning and entering the jail.
Sheriff Owen was seated behind his desk with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. “Morning,” he greeted them.
Ty only nodded while Carson returned the greeting and asked about the prisoners.
“Oh, they’re still there. A pretty silent lot, though I think there’s one of them that might crack if we pressured him some.”
“That’d be Shorty,” Ty put in, glancing about the office casually.
“Well, you two gentlemen go ahead and take seats. You might as well get comfortable. You see, I’m eager to hear why those four yahoos attempted to murder you, how you got them and who that pretty gal was with you last night. Who’s talking?” And the sheriff looked at his visitors.
“I reckon,” Carson began seating himself on a chair and crossing his arms, “that Ty ought ta tell, seein’ as they’ve been after him fer years now. An’ that gal, that were Ty’s sister.” He looked at his companion who had remained standing and now had his back to them. “Ty,” he called, “get yerself a seat an’ let’s get ta the story.”
There was no answer from Ty.
“What’s he lookin’ at?”
The sheriff leaned over. “Just the wanted list. Maybe he knows one of them. I checked it last night but none of those rowdies were listed.”
“That’s cause he ain’t with ‘em.” Ty’s voice was low but distinct.
“What’s that?” the sheriff started up and with a stride was beside his young visitor. “You know one of them? Who?”
Ty pointed. “Bartram. They,” and he jerked his head in the direction of the cells in the back room, “work for him.”
“You don’t say,” whistled Sheriff Owen in surprise. “Bartram has a three hundred dollar price on his head. You think he’s around here?”
Ty shrugged and turned away. “Hard ta tell. I reckon not. They want me, an’ want me bad, so I kind’a figure if’n Bartram were here, he’d a been there last night too.”
The sheriff nodded. “What did they want you for?”
For several minutes Ty sat in silence. At last he spoke. “I reckon I still ain’t sure on some things. But now I know Bartram’s an outlaw, things seem ta be fittin’ better. Ya know if’n Bartram’s wanted in any place else?”
“Sure. It seems like he’s wanted every place west of the Mississippi and south of the Missouri. The U.S. Marshall mentioned him last time he was through here.”
“The U.S. Marshall!” exclaimed Ty, and he looked a little startled.
Sitting down, one hand on his holstered gun, eyes gazing vacantly at the floor, Ty thought. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle which had caused him many sleepless nights were beginning to fit together. He still didn’t have all the pieces, but perhaps the sheriff could help. And there was always Shorty. He’d talk if they got him away from Mason and Poker.
The sheriff waited patiently. He could tell Ty was trying to make sense of something. All was quiet in the room as the two men waited for Ty to speak. At last, with a shake of his head, he looked up.
“I still ain’t sure how it all fits together, but I’ll tell ya all I know. It were ‘bout three years ago an’ I were out trappin’ back in the mountains where we live. Bein’ used ta the woods an’ the ways and sounds a the animals there, when I heard a sort a other sound, I reckoned I ought ta go see what it were. Well, I come to a rocky side a the mountain an’ see them snakes and Bartram pilin’ rocks up ‘fore what used ta be a cave as though they was hidin’ somethin’. Well, I jest stood an’ watched ‘em an’ then I heard Bartram say, ‘When things die down we’ll come an get--.’ An’ then he stopped. I knew they weren’t up ta no good. Never did trust Bartram. Wasn’t sure if’n he saw me or jest stopped. The others promised ta guard whatever it were an’ then I must a shifted my foot or somethin’. Anyhow a rock moved an’ every one jumped ‘bout a mile an’ all looked right scared fer jest a second. Then they saw it were me. I reckon they’d a shot me then an’ there, only I had my hand already on my six-shooter an’ I’ve beat ‘em all at the draw ‘fore . . .”
“Well,” Sheriff Owen pressed as Ty left his sentence to die in the air. “I know you got away, but how?”
Even the rumble of thunder and the first spattering of rain on the roof wasn’t noticed by Ty who sat as one lost, remembering a time past, unaware of his surroundings. It wasn’t until Carson shook his arm that Ty was brought back to the present. “Finish the story, Ty,” Carson ordered him.
“Ain’t much left. I drew my gun, an’ backed inta the woods. I knew I couldn’t take on five a them at once ‘less I had ta. Once under cover I jest disappeared. They all tried ta shoot me, but since they didn’t know where I were, they jest wasted ammunition. An’ some a them sure were jack asses. I could’a shot Shorty, Duffer an’ Poker when they were chasin’ me.” Ty looked disgusted. “ Bartram an’ Mason though, they ain’t so reckless. But I heard Bartram tell Mason that they had ta silence me. Weren’t sure how much I saw. An’, I reckon they didn’t want no trouble. I went back ta the cabin an’ found Carson there. Jest told Pa an’ Sally I had ta leave for a while since some were set out ta shoot me or string me up. Carson an’ I set out that night for the Colorado Territory. Weren’t till earlier this year that we got back.”


Friday, August 19, 2011

Triple Creek Ranch - Part 8

 Good Morning FFFs!
It is hot again. Yesterday it was 103 degrees at 5:15 PM. But there have been a few signs of fall coming. 

This week has been such a whirlwind that the days are mixed and scrambled and I think today is Friday. I have managed to get a lot of things done this week. I spend about 4 1/2 hours with our local quilter's guild on Tuesday tying quilts. Yesterday I got my permit! Okay, so I could have gotten it years and years ago. I did actually have it five years ago, but didn't do much and it expired. This time I'm determined to change it into a license. (Some day.)
I have done some writing, but not much. It's been hard to settle to writing these past few days. And now I have so many things I could/should write that some evenings I spend quite a bit of time trying to decide which to write. *sigh*

Oh, Priscilla said to pass the word that there is a new update on the Traveling page. (Or there will be as soon as she can get to the computer.)
For now, enjoy the Triple Creek Ranch.

Part 8

For a moment, Orlena remained seated then rising, she found her voice. “I won’t go down! Bring my supper to me at once!” Orlena stamped her foot.
Jenelle merely shook her head with a soft smile.
“Do you realize who I am?” stormed the angry child with hands on her hips and glaring eyes. Then, without giving Jenelle time to answer had she wanted to, the haughty princess continued, “I am Orlena Mavrich, the only granddaughter and sole heir of the late Mrs. Marshall Mavrich of Blank City and as such I demand you respect my wishes!”
Long before this was over, Jenelle earnestly hoped her husband had finished his meal and gone out to speak to the foreman. He was already tired and didn’t need to deal with his sister right now.
When Orlena had finished, Jenelle sat down on the edge of the bed and began to speak quietly yet with a half amused, half determined voice. “Suppose you and I come to an understanding right now, Orlena. You are, as you say, the only granddaughter of the late Mrs. Marshall Mavrich. But it is also true that I am the wife of Norman Mavrich,who is your legal guardian, and the only son of the same Mrs. Marshall Mavrich and as such am the mistress of this house. When I tell you that unless you are sick, no meals will be served to your room, that is exactly what I mean. Now, should you choose to come down and eat, I would be most happy to have you. Otherwise, you can wait until breakfast. It is up to you.” Jenelle remained where she was sitting and watched her new young sister.
Never had Orlena had anyone speak to her in that manner. Norman would have become stern, Grandmother would have coaxed and pleaded, the servants would have trembled, and even the instructors of Madam Viscount’s Seminary would have given in, but here was this woman who showed none of the usual signs. For once in her life, Orlena was speechless.
Jenelle took advantage of this moment and added, rising and stepping to the door, “If you wish to eat with me, I will be downstairs. Or,” she added as a second thought, “you may eat in the kitchen if you prefer.” And before Orlena could find her tongue, Mrs. Norman Mavrich had slipped from the room and disappeared.
Downstairs, she found that Norman had eaten in haste and left the house. Feeling relieved, she sank into a chair and began slowly to eat her meal. This wouldn’t be as easy as she had expected. Her husband had been right when he said his little sister was a terror. What were they going to do with her? Suppose she wouldn’t come down to eat? Was she going to stay up in her room by herself? Sighing, Jenelle shook her head and began talking to herself, a habit she had when working through problems. “Obviously she can’t stay in that room for too long. She’ll have to eat, so she must come down. But what will Norman do? Jenelle Mavrich, stop worrying. This is only the first evening; the poor girl is probably so overcome by the newness of things and the sudden move and changes that she doesn’t really know what she wants.”
Here her low murmurings were interrupted. “Mrs. Mavrich?”
Jenelle turned. Flo Carmond stood in the doorway.
“My father is here to take me home if you don’t need me any longer.”
“No, I can handle the rest by myself. Thank you so much, Flo. You were a tremendous help. And be sure you tell your mother how much I appreciate her lending you to me.” Jenelle’s smile was bright as she watched the sturdy young girl hurry out to swing up behind her father on his horse and ride off across the fields towards the Carmond ranch.

When Norman came in from the barn later that evening, as the sun was beginning to sink in the horizon, he found his wife seated with her sewing in the cool front room of the house. Orlena was no where to be seen. “Where’s Orlena?”
Jenelle looked up. “Still in her room I presume.”
“Did she come down to supper?”
Jenelle turned her eyes back to her sewing and shook her head. “Did you have a talk with Hardrich?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
Norman sat down in an easy chair across from his wife. “Yes, and it looks like he has done a good job of things. What did my sister say when you told her her supper would not be served to her room?”
“Many things,” replied Jenelle evasively.
For a moment the rancher remained silent watching Jenelle’s fingers as they sewed tiny stitches in a colorful quilt. Then he spoke. “Aren’t you going to tell me what she said?”
Jenelle glanced up. “You are too tired to be bothered with your sister tonight. No,” she hastened to add as she saw Norman open his mouth to speak while his eyebrows drew together, “there is no need for you to try to come to my defense. I left her speechless when I came away and I haven’t heard anything from her since.”
Still Norman continued to frown. “If she has been impertinent to you--”
“Now Norman,” Jenelle interrupted him, and, laying aside her sewing, went and sat on the arm of his chair. “Orlena is young. There have been a lot of changes in her life in the last few weeks; she lost her grandmother with whom she spent nearly all of her life, she had to leave the city and come out to the middle of nowhere to live with a brother she hardly knows and his wife who is practically a complete stranger to her. She is tired and worn out. Give her a little time to adjust before you let yourself get worked up about her.” She kissed him and was pulled onto his knee.

Any new questions?

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Unexpected Request - Part 53

 Good Morning Western Wednesday Readers!

The sun is shining and I think it is going to be another warm day. But only in the 90s and not the 100s! Sat., Sun., and Mon. we had the windows open all morning! It was so wonderful.:)

I've finished the editing of the western, but it still has to be proofed, the layout done, the cover art made and then sent to the publisher. Oh, I still have to get the copyright taken care of. It is copyrighted right now, but I want it registered.

This week has been really busy so far. We'll see what the next part holds. I did hear that Priscilla and her companion, Amy were going to get together and start planning the trip! I don't know how long it will take them, but I expect you will be hearing from Priscilla later this week.:)
 Oh, and if you haven't picked 5 states to go to, Priscilla said to tell you there are still states open.

Part 53

“Lock ‘em up for the night an’ we’ll be back ta see ya in the mornin’.”
Sheriff Owen had taken up a bunch of keys and now unlocked the door behind his office leading to the jail. “And just what am I holding them for?” he asked as he unlocked the first cell.
“Attempted murder ta start with an’ I’ll fill the rest in later if’n that’s all right with you. My supper’s callin’ me, an’ I ain’t hankerin’ ta miss it.” Ty, while he was talking, had untied Mason’s hands and pushed him in to the cell followed by Poker.
The sheriff locked it and before long, Duffer and Shorty were locked in the adjoining cell. “I’ll hold them for you until morning, but then you’ll have to come in and give me the lowdown on them,” the sheriff told Ty as they left the jail and returned to the office.
“I’ll be here.” Ty assured him, turning to go.
“Ty,” Sally stopped him, “I don’t think I really need two extra guns. One is enough for me.”
“That’s right; here ya are, Sheriff, the guns them snakes was usin’ or tryin’ ta use. They never did get ‘round ta pulling the trigger, but--” and Ty left the sentence unfinished as he placed the six-shooter he was holding on the sheriff’s desk beside the ones Sally and Carson had laid down.
“Fine guns. I’ll keep them.”

Returning to the house, Ty, Carson and Sally ate their supper and then turned in for the night. Sally didn’t know it, but Carson and Ty took turns standing on watch throughout the night just in the event that Bartram or some other unwanted visitor should decide to pay them a visit.
Even when he wasn’t on watch, Ty couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the faces of Mason and Poker behind the muzzles of their six-shooters. Why were they here? How did they know he was here? Was Bartram around? If he wasn’t here now, would he be likely to show up soon? Was Dead Horse a rendezvous for “them”? Ty didn’t know the answer to any of these questions, and he tossed and turned through the long night hours. He had thought he was safe this far from home. Must he always be on the watch?
The first faint streaks of day found Ty still awake and he arose with a new thought. He had to tell the whole story to the sheriff this morning. Everything. After three years of keeping it locked up inside of him, what would it be like to share it now? Drawing a deep breath, he let it out in a long sigh and turned from the window where he had been watching the sun paint the clouds a rosy pink and edge them with gold.
Carson too had spent a restless night. He chided himself for not being more attentive and letting them enter the house, and not only that, but to actually pull guns on him and Ty! “I reckon I’m jest gettin’ too soft livin’ in houses like this. There were a day ain’t too long ‘go neither, when they couldn’t a come within three paces a the house without me knowin’ it.” And so he fretted for some time, until, as he was pacing the rooms downstairs, he began to realize what would have happened if he and Ty had heard “them.” “We’d a had guns drawn an’ it probably would a come ta a shoot-out, an’ I reckon more’n one would a been shot. Perhaps it was providential that they come on us so sudden an’ Sally caught ‘em off guard. Maybe the good Lord didn’t want no killin’.” These thoughts made him a little easier in his mind, though he continued to strain his eyes and ears for the rest of his watch.

“Ty,” Sally began as the three of them were enjoying a hearty breakfast, “I want to go see Starlight this morning. How long are you going to be seeing the sheriff?”
Ty looked up. “I ain’t sure jest how long it’ll take, but I reckon I can see ya ta the liv’ry else Carson can.” He glanced at his friend. “There really ain’t no need for more’n me ta go see Sheriff Owen.”
Shaking his head Carson replied, “Ya ain’t goin’ ta the sheriff alone, Ty. I reckon we can see Sally ta the liv’ry an’ the blacksmith, him with the funny name, ‘ll see she ain’t bothered.”
“I ain’t goin’ ta need ya, Carson,” Ty began, “so if’n ya want ta--”
But Carson cut in. “Maybe ya ain’t needin’ me, but I reckon I’m goin’ ‘long jest the same. An’ it ain’t no use fer ya ta think different.”
Sally interrupted. “I’d really feel better if you were with him, Uncle Bob,” she said sweetly. “I don’t like ‘them’ even if they are behind bars. I can take care of myself as far from the jail as the livery. And,” she added as she saw Ty frown, “Herr Rohbar and his pretty Juanita will take care of me.” She smiled.
Seeing it was useless to argue, Ty agreed reluctantly but added, “Yer wearin’ yer gun, Sally.”

It was still fairly early when the trio left the house and started down the street. The sun was up and trying its best to shine through the cloudy sky. A cool breeze blew causing Sally to pull her shawl about her shoulders.
“It feels like rain,” Carson remarked.
“Looks like it too,” Ty agreed. “Sally, maybe we should a left ya at the house.”
Shaking her head, Sally kept on walking. “I don’t want to stay there alone.”
“Come on, Ty, she’ll be dry at the liv’ry or at-- at--.” and Carson floundered for the name of the blacksmith.
“Herr Rohbar,” put in Sally.
They had reached the jail where the two men paused while Sally continued on. Suddenly she stopped, turned and, throwing her arms around her brother, whispered, “Be careful, Ty!”

So what do you think of it this week?
I'm still looking for reviews to put on the back of the book.

Friday, August 12, 2011

The Battle of Life

Good Morning Faithful Fiction Fans,
The sun is shining, but it is cooler than it has been. And, we actually got rain this week!!! There was one day when the temperatures never got out of the 70s! That was wonderful! It is warmer now, but not in the triple digits.
Life seems to be a whirlwind right now. I've been trying to write, but for the most part my brain seems to have gone on vacation.:} I've written some, but it's not very interesting. :( But, this same sort of thing happened to me after I finished writing Home Fires. Making myself write something almost everyday has been a challenge, but I'm hoping that next week I'll be back into it again.

S & I will be babysitting the kiddos tonight.:) I'm sure we'll have fun, but that means I won't be writing. I've also been busy helping Priscilla De Silvosa ready for her big trip! By the way, there is new info at the bottom of the Traveling the U.S.A. page. I hope you find it interesting. Another thing that has kept me busy is editing my western and sending it to the proofer as well as other things I have to do to get this book ready for publication. Are any of you planing on buying this as soon as it comes off the press?

Now, I know you were all hoping I'd post a story, but I didn't feel like posting a story. I wanted to post a poem since it has been a while since I've done that. This poem was written years ago when I was at Sound Foundations. It was the song I had to write. I can compose the words to songs, but don't ask me to compose the music! I hope you enjoy this poem. And don't forget to go read the Traveling page!

The Battle of Life
Rebekah M.

The enemy does seem so strong
Our thinning lines look grim
The ground we’re losing to the wrong
Our faith is weak and dim.
Our standard in the dust has lain
Then is this fight in vain?

The Captain now is drawing near
He gives an order clear,
“Stand firm and fight and do not fear
The Lord thy God is near!”

The mighty men of valor rise
With all their armor on.
The foes sharp darts they now despise
The former fear is gone.
They raise the standard, wave it high
And shout the battle cry!

The ground surrendered to the foe
For Christ we’ll take it back
And though the battle’s full of woe
With courage we’ll attack.
March on with Christ, we’ll never flee
From certain victory!

Discouraged we will never be
Nor will we be dismayed
Now in God’s armor clad are we,
With shield and shining blade.
We fight and for the right contend
And stand until the end!

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The Unexpected Request - Part 52

Good Morning Wednesday Western Readers,
Did I confuse you with the different title? I had put "Meleah's Western as usual and I remembered that it had a name now.:)
I officially started work on the sequel to "Homes Fires of the Great War." This one has a title and has had one before I ever wrote one word of it: "Ria and the Gang." Sound interesting? I just hope it doesn't take me 6 years to write this one! Especially since I have one more in the series to write. Yep, there are supposed to be three in the series.

Had a fun day yesterday making salsa at my sister-in-law's. Came home with 14 quarts. That stuff is hard to stop eating when it is warm.:) The kids liked it too. Pickle Puss only wanted "juice" on her chips, while Goof Ball wanted tomatoes and Funny Boy just opened his mouth for whatever you stuck in.:) Of course Doodle Bug being not quite 2 months didn't get any.:)

Enjoy today's western!

Part 52

After shutting the door quietly behind him, Ty glanced about the room to find Sally standing with white face by the table, clutching the back of a chair with one hand and clasping her locket with the other. Her gun was in its holster upon the table.
“Sally, it’s over. We got ‘em.” He sprang forward, for Sally swayed on her feet.
“Oh, Ty!” was all she could gasp out as she felt her brother’s arms go around her. The room whirled and she hung on to his shirt.
“We’ll take them ta the sheriff an’ let him lock them up till mornin’.”
Sally looked up. “You got them all, alive?”
“All that were here. Don’t know where Bartram is, but he ain’t here.”
“But, I thought I heard a shot.”
“Duffer tried ta pull his gun on me. I shot his wrist. He ain’t gonna die. Carson wrapped it up an’ now he’s tied up like the rest a them.”
Reaction suddenly set in now that the danger was over and Sally started shaking. Her breath came quickly and her chin trembled.
Ty stared down at her in surprise. He had expected her to be glad and relieved. Hooking his foot on the rung of a chair, he pulled it out and set his sister in it for she seemed hardly able to stand. Swiftly, Ty brought her a glass of water from that wonderful pump and tried to get her to drink it, but she just stared into space, trembling, her hands twisting themselves in her skirt.
“Sally,” Ty coaxed, “jest take a drink. Ya’ll feel better I reckon.”
“Ty, they had guns.”
Sighing, Ty placed the glass on the table. “She’ll feel better if’n she talks it out,” he mumbled to himself pulling out a chair, straddling it and folding his arms over the back as he replied. “Yep, they had guns.”
“They were pointing at you an’ Uncle Bob!”
“I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even move.”
“But ya did. Ya drew Pa’s gun an’ distracted ‘em. That’s what we needed an’ ya did jest fine.”
“I pointed a gun at a person!” Her eyes were wide with horror.
“So did I an’ I had ta shoot,” he countered softly.
“They were going to kill you.”
“But they didn’t.”
“And then you wouldn’t let me come. I was left here not knowing if I would see you alive again!” And Sally burst into tears burying her face in her arms and sobbing.
Standing up, Ty stepped beside her and gently stroked her hair. He knew the tears would help. “I didn’t want ya gettin’ hurt. An’ ya know somethin’, Pa would be right proud a ya for what ya done.”
The tears were checked and muffled voice came from the bent head. “He would?”
“Sure ‘nough. Ya done saved my life an’ Carson’s too. An’ ya did it all without shootin’ a shot. Though I’d kind ‘ave enjoyed seein’ Mason’s face an’ Poker’s too if’n ya had shot a gun out a their hand.
“Ty Elliot!” Sally sat upright and looked reproachfully at him. “I might have shot you or Uncle Bob instead.”
Ty only laughed. “Ya don’t miss what yer aim’n for, Sis.”
“Well, I wasn’t aiming! It was all I could do to keep it from shaking. And I was praying I wouldn’t have to shoot because I’d have missed by a mile.”
Grinning, Ty pulled her to her feet and hugged her. “Well, are ya goin’ ta come with us ta the sheriff or stay an’ wait for us.”
“I’m not letting you two go without me!”
“Then here,” Ty picked up the holster.
Sally shuddered at the sight of it.
“If anyone deserves ta wear this, it’s you, Sally.” And Ty buckled it around her waist. “Come on, I reckon Carson’s getting plenty restless an’ I reckon they are too.”

“’Bout time ya showed up, these here birds are tryin’ my patience.” Carson holstered one of the pistols and shoved the other in his belt. Grabbing his rifle from where it was leaning in the corner, he looked at Ty and Sally.
Sally had wiped away the tears and, though her face was still pale, she looked resolute. Ty handed her the gun belt he had taken from Shorty and, picking up the two other six-shooters from Mason and Poker where they had been kicked in the scuffle, held one in either hand.
“All right on yer feet an’ let’s get goin’,” Ty ordered.
“Where ya takin’ us?” asked Shorty.
“That don’t matter, does it?” Ty replied as he helped him with no gentle hand to his feet and prodded him into line with a gun.
Mason was the only one who showed signs of resisting and Ty, relinquishing another gun to Sally, grasped him by the collar. “Don’t try any tricks, Mason, ‘cause my trigger finger jest might be a trifle twitchy an’ I wouldn’t want ta shoot ya ‘fore the others. It might scare ‘em.” Ty’s tone dripped with scorn, and Mason knew he’d show no mercy if he tried to escape.
Out in the street, with Carson on one side, Sally on the other and Ty right behind the four prisoners, they marched down to the jail past one saloon, then a second. Passed the rundown house to the jail. Here they halted.
“Sheriff!” Ty called out.
A light flickered on inside the building and in another moment Sheriff Owen appeared in the doorway. “What in blue blazes!” he exclaimed when he saw the group before him. “Get inside all of you. I don’t want to start a ruckus in the streets.”
The seven moved inside while the sheriff turned up the gas. On turning around he noticed for the first time who had brought the prisoners in. “Well I’ll be. I thought you didn’t need me.”
“I weren’t countin’ on these here low-down, scum-suckin’ yellow-livered rat-snakes bein’ in town,” Ty replied.
“What do you want done with them?”
Comments or questions anyone?

Friday, August 5, 2011

All Things for Good - Part 2

Good Morning FFFs!
Just to get this out of the way,
I will be posting later today
On the page of Traveling the U.S.A.
So come back and see what I have to say.:)
I couldn't resist writing that in rhyme.:)

Are you all just longing the hear the chosen title? Well . . . drum-roll please

The Unexpected Request

Thanks goes to Katelyn, Kristina and James W. for offering that suggestion. I will tell you though, it was a hard choice. There were many good title suggestions. Mom, S and I spent some time going over the list, crossing out ideas one by one until we were down to four. Then we numbered them. The other three came out with the same number while this one won.

I don't know about the rest of you, but it has been HOT here! Just take a look at this picture and you'll see just how hot it has been. Can you imagine living when they didn't have AC?

Those of you who have been waiting patiently or otherwise for me to get back to other stories, namely Triple Creek Ranch, will be glad to know that I stated working on the next part of that last night. It sure was quite a change from the western to the ranch. :) We'll see how it goes. I'm wondering what happens just as much as you all are. And I have other short stories that I'm supposed to be writing as well as working on another story and starting the sequel to Home Fires of the Great War. I should be busy. Not to mention that I still am in the middle of editing The Unexpected Request and sending it to the proofer. But you can keep up with that here.

Enjoy the second part of this story and stay cool. (If you can.)

All Things For Good - Part 2
Rebekah M.

Late in the afternoon, Sergeant Dwight appeared. “After you notified me this morning that your father’s car was also gone, I alerted the force to be on the lookout for it. Just got word over the radio that it was found parked at the train station.”
Rose and Josiah exchanged glances. “What would it be doing there?”
“I don’t know, Rose,” Josiah answered. “Can you think of any business trip he was taking?”
Rose shook her head and swallowed hard. “He wasn’t going anywhere. I know that.”
“But if he did,” persisted Sergeant Dwight, “where might he have gone?”
The clock in the hallway ticked loudly as Rose sat on the stairs with her face in her hands. Where would he, where could he have gone? Her brain refused to think, and she could feel the tears threatening once again.
“Sergeant, couldn’t we find out which train he took?”
“I already checked on that,” the sergeant sighed. “It might have worked except there is a new ticket agent. The other one, the one that would have sold her father his ticket, is on vacation, and no one has contact information.”
It seemed to grow more complex with each lead. Josiah’s mind was confused, and he wasn’t sure what to think.
“All this seems to point that Mr. Davidson left of his own free will and, therefore, will most likely return.”
“But Daddy would have let me know!” Rose buried her face against the railing and sobbed.
Both men looked uncomfortable.
“I’d best be getting on. I’ll see how Edward Randolph is,” and with that, Sergeant Dwight let himself out of the house.

“Oh, Rose honey, everything will be all right.” She was gathered in Josiah’s arms where she continued to cry though with less bitterness. Gently he stroked her hair. “I know it is hard to believe, but God doesn’t make mistakes. He knows where your father is, and He can bring him home. Darling, you have to believe that He does work things out for good.”
“I-I know.” Rose moaned. “I want to believe, but oh Jose, it is so hard!”
The afternoon sun sank and evening was approaching rapidly before the two young people arose from their knees and began slow preparations for the evening meal. It was a very silent dinner; neither one seemed hungry but made at least a pretence of eating for the sake of the one sitting opposite them.

Rose lay awake a long time that night, her mind in a whirl. She couldn’t focus on any one thing for more than thirty seconds, yet she couldn’t sleep. After turning her hot pillow for the sixth time, she looked at the clock; it was nearly midnight. Why couldn’t she sleep? Everything was quiet and still. Even the crickets seemed to have ended their nightly concert and gone to bed. The sound of a car pulling into the driveway brought her bolt upright. One car door shut and then a second one. Instantly she was out of bed and peering from the window. She gasped. There was her father and with him a young man. The stranger lifted his head to gaze at the house and as he did so, the light of the moon fell full on his face. Rose stared. Her heart seemed to stop beating and for one moment she couldn’t move. Then with a scream she flew out of her room and down the stairs to become locked in a pair of strong arms while she cried, “Oh Bobby! Bobby! Daddy!”
All was confusion for some time after that. Josiah, not a little startled by this unexpected awakening, joined the group, and questions flew thick and fast. Rose, in her excitement, clung first to the stranger and then to her father and then turned to Josiah, only to start it all over again.
“Come, come Rose,” her father chided her at last. “Let us at least sit down. And would it be permitted to have some coffeecoffee at this untimely hour?”
Rose flew to make it and soon returned to the living room where the three men had settled themselves.
“Now Daddy, tell me everything. I was so worried when you hadn’t left even a note!”
“Didn’t you talk to Randolph?”
“He had a stroke two days before we returned, sir,” Josiah answered.
“Then you didn’t get my note. It is simple really. I received a lead as to Bobby’s whereabouts, dropped everything and followed it. The results, your brother.”
Rose had dropped down in a heap before her father and Bobby and now gazed into their faces. “Oh Bobby, I never doubted you.”
“I know, sis. Thanks.” Bobby couldn’t say more.
With a sudden move, Rose turned and cried, “Oh Jose!” and for the second time burst into tears.
“Hey now! I thought we were done with those.” Josiah pulled her up to a seat beside him.
Smiling through her tears she replied, “Those were sad, these are happy. It’s been six years!”
“Let me explain it to you, Josiah.” Mr. Davidson had noticed his future son-in-law’s bewilderment. “Six years ago, something of great importance was lost. I accused my son of taking it. He denied it and hot words followed. I never should have doubted him--”
“I didn’t deserve your trust then, Dad,” Bobby put in. “I was--”
But his father cut him short and continued. “Things finally came to a head, and I told him that if he wouldn’t confess, I would disown him. Well, he couldn’t confess what he had never done, so he just left. How Rose grieved for him. I hadn’t really meant what I said, but I couldn’t take it back, for Bob was gone. He just disappeared. Only two weeks after he left, I discoverd the missing item. It was obvious Bobby had told the truth. I began to search for him, but couldn’t find a trace because he had changed his name. Then last week, like I said, I got a lead. Thank God it was true and led me straight to my son.”
“He works all things for good.” Rose’s soft yet excited voice broke the stillness that followed.
“Amen! Let us all thank Him.”
Questions? Comments? Observations?

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Meleah's Western - Part 50 AND 51

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!
That's right Western Wednesday Readers,
You get double today! Since I'm celebrating the completion of writing the manuscript for Meleah's Western, you get two parts. Now I have to edit it all (or the rest of it since I have started) and then send it to my proofer, layout designer and finally the publisher. Of course I have to wait until the cover picture gets done, but there are things to do while I wait.

Speaking of things to do while I wait, choosing a title is top on the list.  Today until 6:00 you may enter more title suggestions. After 6:00, any new suggestions will not be added to the list. I have quite a few and I think it's going to be difficult to choose.
There is one other thing you can do. If you have been reading this Western and would like to write something short about what you think of it that could go on the back of the book, either leave a comment with your sentence or two review or e-mail it to me. I'd love to have your thoughts on the story. (I know, you haven't read it all yet, but don't let that stop you.)

Part 50

After dismounting and taking their horses to the stables, Carson and Ty unsaddled and brushed their mounts and then removed the loads the other horses were carrying and took care of them. After feeding the animals, the two men made their way into the house where Sally was waiting for them.
“Ty!” she exclaimed the moment her brother was fairly inside. “Look! A pump in the kitchen. Have you ever seen anything like it? And see how the table looks! And so many windows! Why you can see in every direction if you go in the different rooms. There are five rooms in this house, Ty, five! Three downstairs and two more upstairs. You should go see them.”
Ty chuckled. “If’n ya ain’t goin’ ta feed us any dinner till we take a look see, I reckon we ought ta move mighty quick ‘cause I’m hungry.”

Back at the saloon, the group of men waited in silence until their companion came back inside.
“Well, was it Elliot? An’ who were with ‘im? Where’d they go?” This was demanded by the roughest looking of the men, one who was evidently their unspoken leader.
Nodding his head, the young man who had just returned, sat down and reached for a glass of liquor on the table. “Yep, that were Elliot an’ the old man ‘pears ta be the one who took ‘im away.”
“That was nearly three years ago. An’ ta think we’d find him here,” chuckled Shorty.
The fourth man leaned across the table towards the youngest one and half snarled, “Ya never told us where they went, Duffer.”
Duffer looked indignant. “I can’t tell everything at once, Poker. Don’t worry, they ain’t gettin’ away. They stopped at that new house at the edge a town.”
“Anyone else there, Duff?”
“Naw, it’s an empty house, an’ it were jest the two a them.”
Poker and Mason, the leader, looked at each other and then began conversing in low tones. If it was just those two, it shouldn’t be too hard to put an end to that meddlesome Ty Elliot once and for all, and they might as well get rid of the old man at the same time for who knows what he might know. Should they get more guns? Poker didn’t think so, not after all his bragging about being the fastest draw west of the Mississippi. What most people didn’t know was that his fast draws were at the game table not with his gun. Mason sat thinking for several minutes before agreeing that they needn’t call for more guns.
“What about Bartram?” asked Shorty referring to their leader.
“He’s way off in Californy an’ if’n we let Elliot go now, there’s no tellin’ where he’ll show up an’ what he might do. No, I think it’s best ta jest take ‘im now.”
“Right now,” gulped Duffer setting his mug down with a thud. “While it’s still light?”
“Why not? Scared?” Poker taunted.
“I jest don’t like that sheriff.”
Shorty nodded his head in agreement.
“Well, Mason, what do we do?”
“Shut up a minute an’ lemme think.” Mason poured himself another glass and drained it before replying. “I reckon we’d best jest get ‘im ‘fore any others join ‘um. They ain’t suspectin’ us so we’ve got the upper hand. We’ll jest walk in an’ take ‘em.”
“What’ll we do after we get ‘em?” Shorty wanted to know.
“Take ‘em out a town, string ‘em up an’ then come get us another drink.”
“Yeah!” This met the approval of everyone, and Mason, Poker, Shorty and Duffer raised their glasses for one last drink before rising and striding out of the saloon.
“We should each go a different way to the house then no one’ll suspect us,” Mason ordered in low tones. “Meet behind the stables.”

The late summer day was quickly drawing to a close. The sun was nearly hidden behind the mountains and the sky was purple with cherry pink clouds which were swiftly turning grey in the fading light. Already the moon was to be seen and the first brave star poked her face out to look about. In the town honest folks were inside eating their suppers and preparing for rest. But out in the streets the saloons were just getting ready for their night of drinking, gambling and carousing. Sheriff Owen sighed to himself as he sat down in his office in front of the jail. “I need a deputy. If those strangers are staying, I think the younger man would make a good one. As it is . . .” He left his sentence unfinished as he dozed off.

At the house, Ty and Carson, having inspected the upstairs to Sally’s satisfaction, descended the stairs and moved to the front room. “Well, I hope Sally hurries up with that supper,” Ty remarked. “I’m getting mighty hungry!”
Carson nodded.
Neither of them, usually so quick to hear signs of danger, heard the stealthy footsteps approaching the house nor did they hear the whispered words.
“Shorty, ya go watch the front door. We don’t want ‘em gettin’ out that way. An’ Duffer, ya stand guard at this door. We’ll call ya if’n we need ya, but I reckon Poker an’ I can handle ‘em.”
Low murmurs of assent followed these orders and then, with guns drawn, Mason and Poker softly opened the door.
No one was in the dark room, but a light shone from the room beyond. Creeping softly to the door, Mason cautiously peered out. There, near the window stood the man he and the others had been so anxious to shoot or hang: Ty Elliot. Beside him stood that old man.
Mason nudged Poker and suddenly they both sprang into the room while Mason ordered, “Put up yer hands both a you! Don’t even think a reaching fer yer gun, Ty Elliot. I ain’t the only one here.”
“That’s right, Elliot. An’ don’t forget I’m the fastest draw this side the Mississippi,” Poker added with a growl.

Part 51

Taken wholly by surprise, Ty and Carson had no choice but to raise their hands before their captors. Slowly Mason and Poker, keeping their prisoners covered by their guns, moved into the middle of the room.
“Ya thought you could hide from us, didn’t ya?” Mason taunted, leering at Ty.
Ty forced back the urge to take a swing at Mason though his hand above his head clenched.
“Yeah,” Poker put in, “he thought he had gotten away. No one gets away from us for ever.”
“Won’t Bartram be pleased when he hears what we caught,” Mason asked his companion adding to Ty, “An’ don’t think a tryin’ ta get away, the others are jest waitin’ for ya.”
“You’ll swing yet, Mason,” Ty declared between clenched teeth.

Sally had heard strange voices and, moving to the door of the kitchen, beheld the sight that had been her worst nightmare. Ty and Carson were standing with their hands raised while “they” stood with drawn guns before them! For a moment she stood frozen with horror. Where had they come from? How had they gotten in without anyone knowing it? Could she go for help? All these thoughts flashed through her mind in less time than it takes to write it. Neither Ty nor Carson had seen her for both were watching for the slightest relaxing of the guns pointed at them.
Mason laughed. “It’ll be you that’s doin’ the swingin’. You an’ yer friend there. Too bad ya won’t be here ta--” He got no farther.
“Drop your guns and reach for the ceiling!” The crisp order startled the two men. “I’m a dead shot if you care to find out. Drop them I say!”
Poker, so astonished and even somewhat frightened by this totally unexpected turn of events, dropped his gun. Mason half turned to see the speaker, letting his gun move away from Ty. That was all Ty needed, for his clenched fist connected with Mason’s jaw while his other hand grasped the gun and with a mighty twist, wrenched it from his grasp.
Meanwhile Carson hadn’t been idle. When Poker dropped his gun, Carson sprang forward like a panther and the next minute, Poker lay on the floor senseless.
It was all over in a matter of seconds and both the would be killers were disarmed and unconscious on the floor at their feet.
“That’s jest two a them,” Ty muttered, swiftly binding Mason’s hands behind him. “From the way they talked, I reckon Bartram ain’t here, but that still leaves two others at least. I wonder where they are?”
“At the doors?” Carson guessed.
“Why’t they come in at the noise?”
Carson shrugged. “Orders, maybe.”
“Let’s find out,” answered Ty, grimly drawing his gun and softly moving to the door. “Put out the light, Carson. Sally, shut the door an’ stay in the kitchen.”
“But--” Sally began tremulously.
“In the kitchen. An’ stay there ‘less I call ya.” Ty’s voice was more stern than he meant it to be and Sally obeyed, shaking and still clenching her father’s six-shooter.
With the kitchen door shut and the light put out, the room was left in semi darkness while outside, things still had a late evening glow about them. Pulling open the door with one quick motion, Ty discovered Shorty standing before him. A look of complete bewilderment swept over his face as he stared at Ty. He had expected to find Mason or Poker, but instead here was the very man they had set out to hang! When Ty ordered him to unbuckle and drop his gun, Shorty just stood there stupefied.
“I said, drop yer gun, Shorty!” Ty barked.
With shaking hands, Shorty finally managed to do as he was told. Ordering him inside, Ty kept him covered while Carson tied his hands and retrieved his gun from the doorway.
“Who else is with ya?” Ty snapped the order out so suddenly that Shorty jumped as though he had been shot.
“D-- Duffer,” he gasped.
“Where is he?”
“B--by the b--back door.”
“Is he armed?”
Shorty could only nod. This turn of events had completely unnerved him and now he sat shaking like a leaf.
Leaving Carson to stand guard over the prisoners, Ty slipped out of the front door and made his way around the house where he found Duffer pressing his ear against the door with his back to him.
“Unbuckle yer holster an’ drop it on the ground.”
Slowly Duffer stood up and half turned around.
“Drop it now or I will shoot!”
This order was no joke Duffer realized. Perhaps it was the sheriff thinkin’ he was up to no good. If it was, he was sure he could talk his way out of it. Without turning, he said, “Sheriff, I weren’t doin’ no harm. I thought I heard a fight in there an’ jest wanted ta make sure it weren’t bad, ya know--”
Ty broke in, “I ain’t the sheriff, Duffer, I’m Ty Elliot. Now drop yer gun!”
Evidently Duffer didn’t believe him, for instead of unbuckling and dropping his gun, he suddenly whirled around and tried to draw. Instantly Ty fired and Duffer staggered back moaning and grabbing his right wrist.
Ty, keeping his own gun ever ready, strode over and jerked the young man’s gun out of its holster and opening the door ordered him inside. Prodding him with his pistol, Ty followed him inside and into the room where the three other prisoners were.
Mason and Poker were returning to consciousness and now glared wrathfully at their captors.
“Elliot,” Mason growled, “You’ll pay fer this. We ain’t done with ya yet.”
“Maybe ya ain’t, but I’m ‘bout done with the lot a you. Here, Carson,” Ty said, “Bind up Duffer’s wrist an’ then tie his hands behind him, will ya? I’ll keep ‘em all covered while ya do.”
After doing as he was asked, Carson, with a pistol in each hand, stood watching the four disgruntled and wrathful men while Ty went into the kitchen.

I hope you have comments since I gave you double today.:)