[In the West]
“Abigail Marie Jones! You get your a** back here! If’n you don’t dad’ll tan your hide raw!”
“Naw baby sister! Ya’ll gotta catch me first!”
A young teenage girl was chasing after an older one, the wind blowing back the long tangles of straw blonde hair and white summer dresses, bare feet flattening the grass wherever they landed. The stretch of the field they ran through seemed to go on for miles, nothing but green grass and a few scattered trees that provided shade for the cattle that roamed through the stretch of land. The two girls were laughing while they ran, the oldest holding her straw hat upon her head while she tried to keep ahead of the other, only to be grabbed and pulled to the ground. Both girls tumbled and rolled until they came to a stop, laying on their backs, laughing while they stared up at the clouds to catch their breaths. The younger female lied a hand across her forehead, staring up at the sky, smiling faintly before she spoke. “Abby, pa wanted to talk to ya ‘bout the cattle, something ‘bout taking a few into town to trade for some more bags of corn,” she stated, making the other who could only be a year or so older groan, her hands held above her head, fingers laces together while she yawned. “A’ight, c’mon then Rosie,” she stated, sitting up and dusting what broken blades of grass off her dress before holding a hand for her sister.
The two started back towards the small ranch that they lived on, both staring at the man on the porch who seemed to be waiting for them. “You girls took a mighty long time,” he stated just as they reached the porch and started up the steps. “Yessir, that was my fault pa, wanted to get a bit more of the sunshine while it’s still cool enough to enjoy it,” Abby spoke up. He gave a small sigh and gestured to the door, “Rosie, go inside and start up dinner, will ya?” She gave a nod before moving up the steps and in through the screen door, letting it slam against the doorway when it closed. “Abby, I’ll need you to take some of the cattle up to Mr. Matthew’s place, he’s offering us a good cut of his harvest for them.” She heaved a sigh but gave a nod, moving to the barn to grab her horse and hook him up to the small wagon. With that she tied a lasso around two of their cows and began off the farm.
After she had reached her destination, only an hour or so later, while loading the sacks of corn onto the cart, she looked up to see the closest neighbor to her house, the young Johnson boy, riding as fast as his steed would take him. Upon sighting her he pulled back the reins, forcing the horse to stop, causing it to stand on it’s back legs and give a cry of anger. “Miss Abby, something’s gone wrong at your farm, some men are there, men with guns, they’ve got Rosie and your pa locked up inside.” He had barely gotten out a word more before she unhooked her own horse from the cart and started in a quick gallop towards her home. She hadn’t even let the horse come to a stop before she pulled her leg over the side and stumbled up the steps into the farmhouse. She opened the screen door and let it shut with a slam, forcing the attention of the three outlaws in the living room to look over and aim their rifles and pistols at her. Green eyes were a flurry of anger, blonde hair messy from the wind, cheeks flushed with either the heat or her frustration. “Gentlemen,” she stated, stepping towards them, bare feet leaving small dust prints on the wood floors, “I believe you’re in the wrong home. I’m asking nicely if you would leave.” The words had gotten a laugh from the larger of the men who stepped over, touching her cheek gently, “this mus’ be the older sister, we had a lotta fun with the other one…” His breath reek of cheap booze and old food, the sneer on his lips infuriated her, but what made her snap was the glimpse she got of the small body crumbled on the ground, white dress stained with blood, torn all over.
She had moved quickly, grabbing his revolver from it’s holster and blowing a shot clean through his head. Her father took this time to disarm another and lay a few rounds in his chest, the last on scrambling out and mounting his steed before riding off quickly. That didn’t stop Abby, though, she stepped out of the home and fired the pistol at him until it clicked the last shot, and even then she continued to pull the trigger, as if something would come out, tears rolling down her cheeks before she fell to her knees. Her father had rushed out, touching her shoulders, she could hear the sorrow on his voice as he begged her to come inside.
The funeral for her sister had been on a warm sunny afternoon, buried in her favorite spring gown of baby blues and golden yellows, everyone who knew her came, mourned, cried for her. But Abby remained quite, sitting in the dark dress with her head down, a bouquet of daisies in her hands. Before the casket was helped down she lied them atop, whispering softly that she knew they were Rosie’s favorite, knowing how ironic it was that a girl with such a name preferred simple daisies over roses any old day.
A year or so had passed since those men had come to the small farmhouse just outside the town of Bringsted, but still Abby was never without a weapon of some sort. She didn’t trust people anymore, the once sweet girl with the playful eyes and spirit kept to herself, quiet, working all day long and never letting anyone but her father get close. It was the middle of June, a hot day, enough that the cattle even preferred the barn to outside, when the sound of hooves came to her senses. She had grabbed her shotgun and stepped out onto the porch to watch as a man rode up and stopped just a few feet away from the home. She had the weapon aimed at him, “you best be on your way, stranger, I don’t want any trouble with you.” The wind picked up, billowing the long blonde hair and dirty white dress she wore, but she never shifted the weapon a bit.
“Naw baby sister! Ya’ll gotta catch me first!”
A young teenage girl was chasing after an older one, the wind blowing back the long tangles of straw blonde hair and white summer dresses, bare feet flattening the grass wherever they landed. The stretch of the field they ran through seemed to go on for miles, nothing but green grass and a few scattered trees that provided shade for the cattle that roamed through the stretch of land. The two girls were laughing while they ran, the oldest holding her straw hat upon her head while she tried to keep ahead of the other, only to be grabbed and pulled to the ground. Both girls tumbled and rolled until they came to a stop, laying on their backs, laughing while they stared up at the clouds to catch their breaths. The younger female lied a hand across her forehead, staring up at the sky, smiling faintly before she spoke. “Abby, pa wanted to talk to ya ‘bout the cattle, something ‘bout taking a few into town to trade for some more bags of corn,” she stated, making the other who could only be a year or so older groan, her hands held above her head, fingers laces together while she yawned. “A’ight, c’mon then Rosie,” she stated, sitting up and dusting what broken blades of grass off her dress before holding a hand for her sister.
The two started back towards the small ranch that they lived on, both staring at the man on the porch who seemed to be waiting for them. “You girls took a mighty long time,” he stated just as they reached the porch and started up the steps. “Yessir, that was my fault pa, wanted to get a bit more of the sunshine while it’s still cool enough to enjoy it,” Abby spoke up. He gave a small sigh and gestured to the door, “Rosie, go inside and start up dinner, will ya?” She gave a nod before moving up the steps and in through the screen door, letting it slam against the doorway when it closed. “Abby, I’ll need you to take some of the cattle up to Mr. Matthew’s place, he’s offering us a good cut of his harvest for them.” She heaved a sigh but gave a nod, moving to the barn to grab her horse and hook him up to the small wagon. With that she tied a lasso around two of their cows and began off the farm.
After she had reached her destination, only an hour or so later, while loading the sacks of corn onto the cart, she looked up to see the closest neighbor to her house, the young Johnson boy, riding as fast as his steed would take him. Upon sighting her he pulled back the reins, forcing the horse to stop, causing it to stand on it’s back legs and give a cry of anger. “Miss Abby, something’s gone wrong at your farm, some men are there, men with guns, they’ve got Rosie and your pa locked up inside.” He had barely gotten out a word more before she unhooked her own horse from the cart and started in a quick gallop towards her home. She hadn’t even let the horse come to a stop before she pulled her leg over the side and stumbled up the steps into the farmhouse. She opened the screen door and let it shut with a slam, forcing the attention of the three outlaws in the living room to look over and aim their rifles and pistols at her. Green eyes were a flurry of anger, blonde hair messy from the wind, cheeks flushed with either the heat or her frustration. “Gentlemen,” she stated, stepping towards them, bare feet leaving small dust prints on the wood floors, “I believe you’re in the wrong home. I’m asking nicely if you would leave.” The words had gotten a laugh from the larger of the men who stepped over, touching her cheek gently, “this mus’ be the older sister, we had a lotta fun with the other one…” His breath reek of cheap booze and old food, the sneer on his lips infuriated her, but what made her snap was the glimpse she got of the small body crumbled on the ground, white dress stained with blood, torn all over.
She had moved quickly, grabbing his revolver from it’s holster and blowing a shot clean through his head. Her father took this time to disarm another and lay a few rounds in his chest, the last on scrambling out and mounting his steed before riding off quickly. That didn’t stop Abby, though, she stepped out of the home and fired the pistol at him until it clicked the last shot, and even then she continued to pull the trigger, as if something would come out, tears rolling down her cheeks before she fell to her knees. Her father had rushed out, touching her shoulders, she could hear the sorrow on his voice as he begged her to come inside.
The funeral for her sister had been on a warm sunny afternoon, buried in her favorite spring gown of baby blues and golden yellows, everyone who knew her came, mourned, cried for her. But Abby remained quite, sitting in the dark dress with her head down, a bouquet of daisies in her hands. Before the casket was helped down she lied them atop, whispering softly that she knew they were Rosie’s favorite, knowing how ironic it was that a girl with such a name preferred simple daisies over roses any old day.
A year or so had passed since those men had come to the small farmhouse just outside the town of Bringsted, but still Abby was never without a weapon of some sort. She didn’t trust people anymore, the once sweet girl with the playful eyes and spirit kept to herself, quiet, working all day long and never letting anyone but her father get close. It was the middle of June, a hot day, enough that the cattle even preferred the barn to outside, when the sound of hooves came to her senses. She had grabbed her shotgun and stepped out onto the porch to watch as a man rode up and stopped just a few feet away from the home. She had the weapon aimed at him, “you best be on your way, stranger, I don’t want any trouble with you.” The wind picked up, billowing the long blonde hair and dirty white dress she wore, but she never shifted the weapon a bit.
