Young Writers Society

Hiya, this is a small bit of the romantic western I'm writing for my mom. It's christian Fic.

The harsh wind blew against the walls of the small cabin, shaking the roof and frightening the young girl that huddled by the remnants of a fire. She hugged her knees close to her chest trying to keep what little heat she had, but as old as the cabin was and having been neglected as much as it was, the bitterly cold wind found its way inside and closed its icy grip on her small frame. But as cold as it was on the outside her heart was yet colder. Beside her lay a shotgun, minus one bullet. God, why? I think it was the only way, but why do I hurt so much now? She thought, trembling she raised her head off her knees to glance at the lifeless body of her former guardian. His name had been Jeff Masing, a highly regarded figure in the little town, and a supposedly good Christian. That’s why her father had requested him to be her guardian if he died. Not that any of them thought him to die. Her heart broke even more as she thought of her father, whom, as she now knew had been murdered by his so called friend. All because of her.

Oh, lord, I’m a murderer! Her heart cried out, begging for guidance. I know it was in self defense, but will anyone believe me? Her heart wanted to think that she would be trusted but she knew, she would be the one to be found guilty. The daughter of a former gypsy, half the town looked for any reason at all to find fault in her. She sobbed again as a fresh round of tears came and she rocked herself slowly back and forth trying to think of what to do. God please, give me the strength I need to get off this floor. Help me to know your will, just help me please. She prayed silently stopping only because of the fierce growling of her stomach, like a wild beast craving food. It reminded her that it had been near seven days since he had banned her from eating until she did what he demanded of her. A chill went down her spine as she remembered the reason she had shot him, he had wanted her to be more like a wife than a daughter. Absent mindedly she fingered the torn shirt that barley covered her chest, the one he had almost succeeded in ripping off her. All at once those terrible images flooded her thoughts, making her scream and tremble all over again. But then a new emotion began to seep through the guilt, the fear, and the sorrow. It consumed, and ate away the other feelings, rage. The small voice in her head told her he deserved what he got, and that really she was glad to be the one to do it.

She jumped up.

“NO!”

She shouted out at the wind, “Please lord God, my only friend. Save me from my sinful thoughts.”

She stumbled back and fell against the chimney leaning into its slight warmth, “I beg you Jesus, please. I don’t deserve it but give me peace over what I have done, please.” Tears rolled down her face as nothing happened and she felt her knees begin to weaken again. “Fear nothing for I am with you always, and I forgive all things”

She remembered her father reading a verse similar to that from their family bible, and the words sank slowly into her battered heart. Then it was as if someone was picking her up off the ground and enfolding her in big strong arms, warmth spread through her despite the cold and she knew that he had never left her, and he never would. That was the only thing that would never change. “Thank you.” Was the only thing her exhausted body and mind could give. She looked down at the shackle around her small ankle that had kept her chained here. Once again she looked at the body that was probably cold now, taking a deep breath she took a wobbly step towards him.

Not able to reach his pocket that held the key to her freedom she closed her eyes and grabbed his ankles tugging for all she was worth. She finally pulled him far enough and slid to her knees turning her head away before reaching into his pocket, surprisingly his corpse was still warm as she fished for the key. Feeling the metal her long slender fingers grasped it jerking back to her, she almost kissed it. But instead she quickly shoved it into the lock and freed her leg from its grip. She rubbed her blooded leg a little before standing weakly and making her way over to the food.

Half an hour, and a tided over belly, later she stood by the kitchen table, almost ready to step out into the world. She had a blanket laid on the table, on top of it was a little over a pound of bacon, two loaves of bread, a bit of cheese, a medium sized skillet, coffee pot, silverware, and whatever else she good find in the cup boards. She tried not to think of it as stealing, but it still got to her a little. She shook herself clear of those types of thoughts and folded up the blanket in a complicated way and tying it so to keep her food from spilling out. She then walked over to the desk that occupied a corner of the cabin, shuffling through the papers she took the bill of sale for her gelding horse, and anything else she thought she’d need. Folding them neatly she tucked them into the small leather back pack her father had made for her. She then strode a little more confidently to the locked trunk where Jeff had put all her worldly possessions. Grabbing the shotgun she hit the lock with the butt of the gun three times before it clanked to the floor. Opening the trunk made a few tears fall from her already puffy eyes, she hurriedly grabbed her father’s old cloak and wrapped over her ruined dress, she would have changed but she didn’t own another. Her fingers felt nimbly around the edges and she almost laughed with joy when she felt that the money was still there, Jeff never even thought to look for money thinking that they were too poor to have any savings, well it wasn’t much but it was enough to get her away from here. She sighed though because he had sold the jewelry her mother had given her before running away, she was about to close the trunk when she noticed the two pistols with silver handles that her father had won in a bet a long time ago before he knew the lord. She touched them with awe, she was surprised they hadn’t been sold also. Her father had taught her to shoot with these, claiming that she was a faster draw than most cowboys ever dreamed of being; smiling at the thought she stood and wrapped the belt around her waist. Who cares if it’s not lady like? It’s not like being a beautiful woman hadn’t already caused me enough grief, maybe now men will just leave me alone! She thought indignantly as she slammed the trunk, it was always easier for her when she was a nobly kneed, freckled faced, and most importantly a flat breasted teen. When her Pa had taken her hunting and taught her to ride as well if not better than most boys. But then at fourteen that had all changed when her body had a certain growth spurt and filled out most magnificently. At first she had been thrilled to be as pretty if not more so than her friends with her big green eyes, that changed color when she was upset, rimmed with dark eyelashes so thick they cast shadows on her cheeks, with her black curly hair that would shine in the sun for some reason, and her beautiful almost exotic features just begged to be admired. It hurt most girls to look at her but all it had brought her was pain.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts she kneeled down by the bed reaching under for her bow and arrows, Jeff had called them heathen tools and thrown them out but she had retrieved them, true her Indian friend had given them to her and taught her to use them but her best friend had been anything but a heathen. Plus if she ran out of ammo for the guns at least she would still have a way to provide food for herself. And if her plan worked out how she planned it as far as she had to go it was possible. She slipped her bow and the quiver of arrows over her thin shoulders, it fit much looser than the last time she had wore it and she knew that she had lost a lot of weight. Adjusting everything she wore so it was comfortable she began to tote everything out to the lean-to that housed her horse, which Jeff had been riding as though he owned it, the thought still made her angry, and a small brown mule.

She petted the huge draft horse she had dubbed Preacher as a small child of eight when her father had bought him as a colt, she had said he acted like a preacher the way he was always behaved and never got out, never did anything wrong, it had all made since when she was eight. He was now eight himself and in fairly good shape although he was jumpier now that Jeff had got a hold of him, but he was still her baby, even though her pure black baby was now a good sixteen- seven hand horse that weighed close to fifteen hundred pounds, he was gentle to her as if she were a new born babe. The mule on the other hand, well they didn’t get along real well but she figured that this one didn’t trust humans because of the one that had owned her since her birth five years ago. She kissed his velvety nose and checked the saddle and her pack one more time before hosting herself into the saddle. She shifted the shotgun back a bit as its butt dug in unkindly to her leg and then gently nudged Preacher into the teeth shattering cold wind, leading Shy behind her, she might not like her but she wasn’t going to leave her to starve.

As she approached the tree line she looked back at what had been her nightmare for the past six months, she had come there with sorrow, but had a hopeful future with a man she thought her Pa trusted. She had come here as Rebecca Townsend, a fifteen year old child, full of love and trust. She left it now as Rebecca Townsend, a sixteen year old woman, pushed beyond her limits, now a weary and worn out, she hated to think it, a murderer. Rebecca sighed, tears welling up in her eyes, she quickly dashed them off, there had been enough tears shed here and all of them from her. Not anymore. She was leaving the weak child behind; she would never be used like that again.

“Okay God. I’m ready for you to show me my future. And if it would be pleasing you, a brighter one than my past” She nudged her mount forward and refused to look back, and refused to cry.

Chapter 2-

“Carter! Boy get over here and get a bucket of water.NOW!!”

Rebecca jumped as she heard voices echoing through the small valley where she’d camped for the night. This wasn’t good; she was worn out living like a wild heathen, though she probably looked the part about now. For a week she’d rode hard and fast to the state line, once she’d crossed over she had relaxed a little but she began to take extra caution in covering her tracks and trying not to venture into any of the towns. But last night she had been so give out she had forgotten to check and had camped much too close for comfort. The shouting continued apparently the boy hadn’t shown up yet. Rebecca opened her eyes slowly moaning quietly from the stiffness in her joints caused from riding and nights spent on nothing but pine nettles for comfort. She stretched and rolled over, her eyes focused and she let out a screech to match a mountain lions scream. She sat up jerking the cloak around her body, instantly she stretched out her hand instinctively for the pistols that lay beside her in case of emergencies.

“Hold on miss, I… mean you no harm. I, I thought you dead for sure.”

His voice was deep, deeper than any she’d ever heard, it rumbled through her seemingly vibrating her whole being. At first it put her at ease with its deep silky smooth but then the old suspicions sprang into motion and she grabbed up the gun pointing it level at his chest.

“Leave, Now.”

She was pleased that her voice came out steady and surprisingly icy. He put his hands up in front of him looking at the gun then at her. He was handsome she noticed, with an extremely tall well built frame, his curly brown hair was a little shaggy softly falling around his ears. There was a crease where he wore a hat, his nice firm jaw gave him a masculine look but he had signs of a beard but his strong forehead had no wrinkles. He was young maybe only a few years her senior, but what caught and held her attention, against her will was the deep brown eyes lined by lashes almost as thick as her own. Those eyes made you want to lose yourself forever in their depths, but looks were always deceiving as she’d found out the hard way.

“Whoa now easy kid, I just wanted to make sure you were not dead. Why don’t you put the gun down so we can talk proper like?”

He shifted his eyes back to her face with difficulty, he quickly sized up her small frame and drained looked. He could probably jump and wrestle the gun out of her hand before she could react, but something in those gorgeous green eyes stopped him cold and he knew that it was very possible he would get shot.

“I think you should leave mister, before my finger slips.” Her voice came out level even though she trembled from exhaustion and lack of food. She noticed him eyeing her as though a fox might eye an old hound dog that had no teeth to bite him. Her pistol had run out of ammo two days ago at a rabbit, just her luck to grab the empty one.

“Easy now girl, my name is Andrew, what’s yours?” He shook his head when she didn’t answer except with a glare, “Well fine then, but let me tell you what I think. I thin—“ he pounced.

Rebecca jumped back but she wasn’t quick enough, his full force slammed into her knocking her breath from her lungs. She lashed out with her legs kicking with all her might, it worked well enough, catching him in the shin, he let out a curse when the heel of her boot came out of nowhere and shoved into his stomach pushing him backward a little bit. Just far enough back that the gun had time to be brought forward and shoved in his face, the barrel stuck under his neck and his eyes showed fear as she cocked the hammer. He saw her tears well up, as her finger curled on the trigger it seemed as though everything moved in slow motion.

“NOOOOO!!”

He hollered and tried to move back away from the bullet. He heard the click and he winced, waiting either for pain or heaven. The curse brought him back to the present as he heard it, then the footfalls of someone running. He opened his eyes to see her running through the woods like a doe running from the hounds.

She would have killed me. Andrew thought as he pushed himself up from his kneeling position, it made him angry that he had been bested by that little shrimp of a woman, and he took off after her. How was I supposed to know she could kick that hard, like a darn mule she did. His vision narrowed as his long strides caught up to her quickly, he started to reach out for the cloak flapping around behind her, but he thought better of it.