--This story is open for another 53 entries
--This story is open
Jan 23, 2008 10:52 PM
Jameson wiped the sweat away from his brow. He and his brothers had been riding for hours. The hot Arizona sun and scorched his balding head. Wally his horse has just about had it.
Standing at the highest point he could find he scowered the area, searching for some hope of water.
A fading voice from behind says, "Jameson, its no use. We are too far out. We just have to keep going".
Jameson turns back to see his youngest brother, Wyatt, his skin is as red as the desert ground. Jameson watches as his brother tries to wet his dehydrated lips. His brother, Clint is hunched over, head in hands. He can't give up, it was his idea to head west. He tells himself, he had no other choice, they had no other choice.
Feb 26, 2008 04:44 PM
Jameson reached into his saddelbag and pulled out a half empty canteen. He twisted the slightly rusted cap, rubbed the top with his sweaty palm and handed it to his brother. "Not too much", he said as he handed it over. "We need to go a bit further before we set up camp." Wyatt and Clint each took a turn and wet their parched lips with the liquid gold. Clint returned the precious canteen when a subtle but familiar ratteling noise caught their immediate attention, including Wally's.
Feb 28, 2008 10:25 PM
"What was that?" Wyatt stammered. Wyatt, more than his brothers, has had his fair share of close calls in the desert. Jameson steps away from his brothers, closes his eyes, and listens like a hawk. "What is it, Jameson?" Wyatt asks again, pleading for a comforting answer from his older brother. Jameson was always tough guy and smart; 'Too smart for his own good', at least that's what their Daddy used to say. "Saddle back up, we are going further than we thought", Jameson commanded. His brothers knew that Jameson had his reasons, they didn't even question him, whatever they were they were better off not knowing, at least for now. Jameson taps Wally apologetically on the neck as his rugged boat slides into the stirup and he kicks his leg over. He gently digs his heels into Wally's side, "Sorry 'bout this boy", Jameson whispers. Wally begins trotting, his brothers mounted on their horses, follow after.
Mar 23, 2008 11:17 AM
Even as the sun begins to slump below the mountains, Jameson sits tall, hawk like atop Wally. He has a feeling, one of those feelings that rumbles in the very depths of your belly, that the sound in the distance will continue until the get where they are going, if they can get there.