by: Denise Wallan

Marshal Duke

The spotted Appaloosa stepped from the trail into town, its riders head tipped forward, his eyes looking at the ground with an eye of profession. The bright sunshine caught the Marshal’s badge on his cow hide vest an it shined brightly as the light of the sun beat down on it.

The Marshal eased the horse onto the well worn road into town, the hoof prints that the Deputy Marshal had been following slowly but surely disappeared among thousands of similar other tracks. Bewildered, the young dark haired Marshal brought the horse to a stop at the edge of town and sighed, he had lost the tracks.

“Looks like we did all that fer’ nothing hoss.” The young Marshal shook his head and road on into the town.

He was almost sure that the person he’d been tracking had ridden right into the town and not around it. Highly unlikely as it was, that the outlaw would ride right into the town, even if it was the outlaws place of birth it would be a stupid move. None the less, it was possible, the Marshal thought to himself as he road up to the front of the supply store.

An if anyone, even an outlaw passing through in a hurry, came through they had to stop at the supply store before moving on. There wasn’t another town for miles and miles, an even the hardiest of people couldn’t survive without getting supplies of some kind.

The young dark haired Marshal stepped his horse up to the hitching rail and halted there dismounting and then tethering the horse to the rail. The young Marshal stood before the supply store, a clean shaved and decently friendly face with soft features. His black hair combed back neatly under his dark brown Stetson, his white shirt neatly pressed an peeking out from under his cow hide vest, buttoned up neatly and his black dress pants clean an fresh.

He walked up the steps of the store, his black boots shined and he was met at the entrance by the young, timid clerk. The clerk said nothing, the look of fear still written on his face as clear as the sun shine that beat down through the cloudless sky. The young timid clerk pointed in the direction of the saloon, words weren’t needed to tell the Marshal that this boy had seen the outlaw that he was hunting.

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by: Marty Chrisman

Luke dozed off, only to be awakened by the cold. Involuntarily, he started shivering. His heart began pounding in his chest as he sensed something in the darkness out of his range of vision. He knew there were bears, wolfs and even mountain lions this high up on the mountain. He kept silent, trying not to breathe too heavily, so he wouldn’t attract the attention of whatever was lurking in the shadows. He had never felt more helpless in his life.

Luke had known fear while in the Marines but nothing like this. The air was getting colder. He longed to be back home in his own bed, warm and safe. He wondered if he would ever see his family again, ever get the chance to tell them just one more time how much he loved them. Luke cried out in pain as he accidentally moved his injured leg. He could feel the blackness reaching out for him and he went willingly and without question. At least then, he wouldn’t feel the pain.

Drops of icy cold rain jarred Luke awake. He blinked against the glare of the early morning sun, instantly wanting to close his eyes and retreat back into the darkness. It was starting to rain. Within minutes, it was pouring, drenching Luke’s clothing and chilling him to the bone. His teeth were chattering and he was shivering violently from the cold. Finally, the rain stopped but Luke continued to shiver, his wet clothes keeping him cold and uncomfortable. The storm had also made the air in the mountains cooler than usual which only added to Luke’s discomfort.

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by: Marty Chrisman

The house was still dark and everyone was still sleeping when Luke got up the next morning. Gathering his clothes, he went across the hall from the room he had shared with Bo all of his life and went into the bathroom. He took a quick shower to finish waking up, then went downstairs. It was just a few minutes past five in the morning. Going into the kitchen, Luke made himself some eggs and put a pot of coffee on the stove. Daisy had already packed a cooler for him with enough food to last for three days.

After he had eaten, Luke rinsed off his plate at the sink and filled a large thermos with coffee from the fresh pot he had just made. Grabbing the cooler, he went outside. The rest of his gear was already packed in the General’s trunk. There was still a slight chill in the air as Luke crossed the barnyard to the General and climbed inside.

Pulling out of the drive, he turned to the left and followed a long winding dirt road high into the mountains that surrounded Hazzard. When the road ended, Luke parked the General and climbed out. Taking his time, he unpacked the General and went about setting up his campsite. He put the cooler and a six pack of beer in the cold mountain stream that ran near his campsite. He would use the natural refrigeration of the water to keep his food from going bad for the next three days. He pitched his tent and then built a fire ring for his camp fire. It got cold in these mountains at night.

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by: Denise Wallan

Blue Mustang

A hot breath breathed into Chet’s face an he batted away the thin air with one hand an continued to doze with his eyes closed for a few more moments. Warm rays of sunshine beat down heavily on him an pressed down on his eye lids as a warning that the first rays of morning had come an that it was time he got his ass off the ground. The hot breath hit his skin once again, but harder this time, the sound of a light snort came to his ears an Chet froze his heart skipping a beat in time.

He raised his right hand again an felt along the object that his head rested on, the object felt well worn an rather rough. An the smell of leather came to his nose an he took it in with a deep breath, his heart skipping again as the possibilities crept into his mind an rolled over. The last time he had smelled leather like that had been…when….he thought to himself about his experience or call it what you will, in the old west with the tall fiery red gelding.

It all came back to him now, he could remember the run in with his brother and the visit to Joey’s supply store. An the train robbery where he had been wounded, the visit to his mother that had ended with the death of the man on the Paso Fino and then the end, his father being shot an killed. The warm breeze hit him in the face again an the smell of wild flowers, green grass, fresh running water and land as wild as the west itself quivered in his nostrils. An a high pitched whinny came to his ears, loud an clear as if it had been right next to his head.

Slowly the realization sank into him an his eyes flew open, he peered around not immediately moving his head to better see, he knew all too well what he might see. But reluctantly he turned his head to the right and a pair of big light blue eyes met his an a nervous snort blew into his face as a powerful hoof pawed the ground right next to his head. Chet rolled away a few feet an sat up immediately putting his hand to the back of his head where he thought he had been stricken while analyzing the downed tree in front of his car. He pulled his hand away feeling know bruise an his hand showing know sign of blood, his hand naturally ran through his very short black hair, feeling dry and ruffled from sleep.

He turned his attention back to the eyes that had so nervously looked at him, an the horse looked back standing quietly now, just staring. A small crackle in the woods nearby suddenly caused the horse to rear an paw the sky with its large hooves an then crash back down onto the dry, hard, GA dirt. Chet pushed himself to his feet slowly, his mismatched eyes intent an steady on the horse as his voice finally came to him.

“Easy now…..easy there big fella….easy….shhhh.” He spoke soothingly to the horse an held his hands up at waist height in a steady motion.

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