Title: Innocently Accused 1/?
Author: TrinityTheSheDevil
Genre: Angst, Action, Adventure, Drama, etc
Rating: PG 13, possibly higher in later chapters
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns all.
Summary: Frank is wrongfully accused of a crime that he didn't commit and being taken to trial. The question is ... will he survive the trip?
A/N:
This fic was so late in coming. I started it about a week BEFORE the movie came out, so it is most definitely AU. (So don't say I didn't warn you.) It will hopefully be nice and long, with lots of angst and things like that. ::eg:: If you like it feel free to visit my website and/or Yahoo group!
THANKS : To Rhonda, my beta who swore there was nothing wrong with this fic. (WOAH! LMAO) And everyone who poked and prodded me along in writing it. Oh, and to Viggo - who did a stunning performance of Frank Hopkins and inspired me to get heavily into the fandom. :-)
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Frank was wet. That was the first thought that entered his mind as he slowly made his way from sleep. Wet and extremely cold. Dragging one eye open and peaking out from under his hat, he grumbled. It was pouring down raining - not that he hadn't expected it, he just didn't think it was going to hit this soon - and the temperature had dropped quite a bit. Unfortunately, Lady Luck had a grudge against him or something of the like, as he glared at the sky that now seemed intent on drenching him most thoroughly.
Frank stood up, well aware of the horse that stood behind him. He could practically feel Hidalgo's eyes burning holes in his back, and knew that the horse was just as wet - if not more, since the horse didn't wear clothes - and cold as he was.
"I know. You don't have to glare at me." Frank muttered.
The horse neighed softly, scrubbing his hoof on the ground. Frank ignored him, buttoning up his jacket to the neck and pushing his long, braided hair to his back. With a huff, Hidalgo strode forward and butted Frank in the back so hard that the man slipped, falling flat on his stomach.
"Now that was uncalled for!" Frank sputtered, leaping to his feet and plopping his now muddy hat back onto his head. He shivered as a glob of the thick goo made its way down his neck and back, leaving an icy trail in its wake. Frank turned to the horse, hands on his hips and ready to give the animal a good tongue lashing.
He tried not to laugh. He really did. But the sight of Hidalgo standing there with an extremely haughty and smug expression, as if saying "you brought that on yourself!" caused his lips to twitch. He broke out into soft laughter, patting the horse gently and rubbing his hand over Hidalgo's neck.
"Whaddya say me and you find a warmer and dryer place than this, huh?" Frank asked, leaning his forehead on Hidalgo's.
Hidalgo nodded, stepping forward impatiently and waiting for Frank to mount. The man did so, laughing again as he grabbed his pack and leapt upon the bareback horse.
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Grey Wolf sighed, clucking silently as he followed his best friend's trail. Frank (or Blue Child) had left in a hurry, after being literally kicked around by a few hotheaded white-skins. He knew it wasn't easy for Frank; being half one race and half the other often times left one rather confused as to which he truly belonged to. Especially when both races seemed intent on treating him as an outcast.
Grey Wolf did not mind what race Frank was though. Frank was ... well ... Frank. The brash, stubborn young man had a way of getting under your skin and burrowing like a red bug. The two had been friends since their tenth year, growing up practically attached to the hip. Grey Wolf ignored the warnings of his parents - that messing with "tainted blood" such as Blue Child would reflect badly on him. Frank was a great rider, a loyal friend, and he had the heart of a warrior. Grey Wolf really didn't care what others thought of him, or their friendship. It just was.
He grumbled to himself. At the moment though, as much as he loved Frank as his brother, he really wished to strangle him. Tracking the other man through freezing rain with a steadily disappearing trail was definitely not the way he wished to spend his week. A wry grin found it's way onto Grey Wolf's face though; he knew Hidalgo couldn't possibly be happy in this kind of weather, and the horse had a very painful way of letting one know when he wasn't happy. Grey Wolf warned Frank about spoiling the animal ... Frank however, didn't listen. As usual.
Patting his own horse, which was now making it's own discomfort known, Grey Wolf sighed again. They would have to find shelter soon or risk getting caught in the worst part of the storm later - something he knew no person with any moderate amount of sense would do on purpose. He only hoped that he would be able to find signs of the trail later, after the storm blew over. Somehow, Grey Wolf doubted it. Bad luck seemed to follow him like a black thundercloud when he was around Frank ...
"Come, my friend." Grey Wolf called to his horse, White Wing. The horse was named appropriately, for on her sides were white splashes in the shape of an eagle's wings. She was a marvelous and intelligent animal and he could never wish for another to replace her. "Let us find shelter from this horrid rain. It looks as if it will pass over soon."
Ten minutes later, Grey Wolf found a small cave large enough to house both him and his horse comfortably. Settling down and building a small fire, he only hoped that Frank had found a similar sanctuary in which to ride out the storm.
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Frank winced as his shoulder throbbed again, a direct result from Hidalgo's grumpiness over having to travel through the cold rain. He resisted the urge to scream at the horse ... it would only bring about more painful retaliations. His other wounds, although small, still bothered him. The white men he had encountered packed quite a punch, and didn't let him forget it.
Sensing his owner's (but not really, as Hidalgo was truly free to come and go as he pleased ... he just preferred to stay with Frank) feelings, Hidalgo gently nudged the man's shoulder in apology. Frank grinned.
"It's okay. I'm fine. Or I will be, as soon as we find a place to stay."
Hidalgo huffed as if to say, "yeah right". He nudged the man again, putting more force behind it this time.
"No, I am not getting back on you. The trail is treacherous enough without me riding on you and making it worst. Now quit that!" Frank rolled his eyes. Spoiled horse ...
Giving what could only be described as a very venomous glare, Hidalgo stopped point blank and stared at the man. Frank glared back and threw his hands up. "Look, if we just ..." He trailed off.
Up ahead, through the dense trees and foliage, Frank could see a light from a window. It was barely visible but Frank latched onto it, motioning for Hidalgo to follow him.
"Come on, boy. I think I just found us some shelter."
Hidalgo followed gratefully.
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Ten minutes later found Frank and Hidalgo next to the porch of a small, well built cottage. Trees surrounded it, almost completely blocking it from view. There was a large dirt path, big enough for a carriage to get through, leading into the yard. A barn, perhaps big enough to hold a few horses stood to the left. Although it felt very homey, something was ... off. Frank couldn't describe it exactly, but something just wasn't right. The air felt colder here, more ... unwelcome. He resisted the urge to turn around and find someplace else, but this was, after all, the only place he had encountered in the past hour or so. He couldn't turn back now, especially with Hidalgo looking at him with an annoyed expression.
With baited breath, Frank approached the door and knocked three times. With a creak, it swung open slightly, causing Frank to pause in confusion. He then noticed something on the porch ... something he had overlooked until now. Blood.
Frowning, he slowly pulled out the knife he kept on his belt and pushed the door open the rest of the way. The sight inside made him gasp.
Three bodies, all laid out upon the floor, covered in blood. It appeared as though they had been stabbed and dragged into the middle of the room. A mother, her open eyes staring out into space, clutched the stiff hand of a little girl who looked no more than eight. The father had obviously put up a struggle before he died, as the room was in shambles. Frank's stomach turned when he noticed something else ... something sickening and utterly disgusting. The small family had been scalped, crude symbols drawn onto their faces with their own blood.
He vaguely understood the symbols from another tribe. It meant, "Let no one live while I walk this earth. Revenge is mine." Frank shook his head and stumbled from the room, back out into the rain. He couldn't stay here, couldn't face the death that laid in that room. He had to get out. The air was suffocating him, choking him. His feet finally splashed into the mud, and he stopped a few yards away from the entrance to the small house.
It was then that he noticed the sound of several horses outside, as well as the voices of men. White men, by the sound of it.
Forgetting the knife in his hand, Frank turned and watched them come up the path slowly, letting their horses do the leading. One man saw him and yelled.
"Look, Red, there's a damn injun out here!"
The man Frank thought was Red immediately pulled out his rifle. "Stay right there redskin. Don't you move! And throw that knife down, now!"
Frank looked back into the house at the bodies, then at the men. The numbness that had settled over his mind now lifted and he started. Quickly throwing the knife down and holding his hands out to the sides, he watched as Hidalgo moved to get between him and the men.
"Hidalgo, no! Quickly, get away from here, now! I do not have a good feeling about this!" He yelled in his native language.
The men seemed to hiss at his words, aiming their guns higher. Hidalgo, although loathe to leave Frank there, did as was told and made his way back out into the woods. Frank sighed in relief.
"Joseph, Rick, go check on the family." Red said, motioning to two men beside him. "Bradley, you stay right here and make sure he don't move."
Bradley, a young man of about eighteen, nodded. Frank wondered if the younger man felt the same way about indians as the other men did. He could tell from the way Bradley held the gun, he did. It saddened him to know that the prejudices of the older men were passed on to the younger generation.
Rick and Joseph both walked into the house, but Frank already knew what they would find. The dead ones with their haunting image that stuck with you. He grimaced.
"Jesus Christ! Red, get in here now!" Rick called out.
Red growled, stomping into the cabin. He was stopped short at the sight before him. Usually a strong man, Red now fell to his knees in grief. His brother ... his sister-in-law ... and his little niece. All killed ruthlessly, for nothing. "God, no ..." Tears escaped his eyes, but he swiped at them before they fell.
Joseph stepped next to the grieving man, reaching out to comfort him. He jumped back when Red snarled.
"No! Get away from me." Red jumped to his feet, sniffing once. "We're gonna bury'em. Now." Then ... he remembered. The indian ... and the knife. "That bastard ..."
Before the other men knew what had happened, Red lunged from the cabin and onto Frank, landing a solid punch on the other man's jaw. Frank was sent sprawling into the mud, dazed.
"I'm gonna kill ya you bastard!" Red screamed, kicking Frank in the ribs. He felt immediate satisfaction as he heard a distinct "crunch" sound, letting him know he had fractured - if not broken - more than one. Frank groaned in pain, rolling over and attempting to stand back up.
A gunshot sounded from Bradley, barely missing Frank's shoulder. "Stay down, injun!" Bradley shouted.
Frank decided to do just that. He had no intention of purposely getting himself shot. Then again, he moaned as another kick landed in his stomach, could getting shot hurt this. much? Probably not.
"Red, wait! Don't kill'em yet. We'll take him back to town and he'll stand trial. Let'em get hanged legally." Rick grabbed Red's shoulder, holding him back.
Red spat on the ground. "HE KILLED THEM! My family, he killed them! The bastard deserves to die now!"
Frank, through his haze of pain, now knew exactly what they were talking about. They thought he killed those people.
"I didn't! I swear, I didn't kill those people!" He yelled. Or, tried to. The wind seemed to be permanently knocked from his lungs.
Red glared, not believing a word that was said. He turned to the other men. "Tie him up. We'll bury them and leave for town in a few hours."
"Wait!" Frank struggled to stand up, needing them to listen. He knew they wouldn't though. And it seemed, he later found out, that standing up had been a bad idea. A very bad idea.
Red turned, sneering at him. "Damn injun. You'll be lucky if I let you live til next morning." And with that, Frank watched as a fist flew towards his head, then a blinding pain engulfed him. Darkness crept in his vision as he fell back onto the ground, landing heavily onto his broken ribs.
And then he knew no more.
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TBC...
Reviews = welcome. :-)
Author: TrinityTheSheDevil
Genre: Angst, Action, Adventure, Drama, etc
Rating: PG 13, possibly higher in later chapters
Disclaimer: The Mouse owns all.
Summary: Frank is wrongfully accused of a crime that he didn't commit and being taken to trial. The question is ... will he survive the trip?
A/N:
This fic was so late in coming. I started it about a week BEFORE the movie came out, so it is most definitely AU. (So don't say I didn't warn you.) It will hopefully be nice and long, with lots of angst and things like that. ::eg:: If you like it feel free to visit my website and/or Yahoo group!
THANKS : To Rhonda, my beta who swore there was nothing wrong with this fic. (WOAH! LMAO) And everyone who poked and prodded me along in writing it. Oh, and to Viggo - who did a stunning performance of Frank Hopkins and inspired me to get heavily into the fandom. :-)
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Frank was wet. That was the first thought that entered his mind as he slowly made his way from sleep. Wet and extremely cold. Dragging one eye open and peaking out from under his hat, he grumbled. It was pouring down raining - not that he hadn't expected it, he just didn't think it was going to hit this soon - and the temperature had dropped quite a bit. Unfortunately, Lady Luck had a grudge against him or something of the like, as he glared at the sky that now seemed intent on drenching him most thoroughly.
Frank stood up, well aware of the horse that stood behind him. He could practically feel Hidalgo's eyes burning holes in his back, and knew that the horse was just as wet - if not more, since the horse didn't wear clothes - and cold as he was.
"I know. You don't have to glare at me." Frank muttered.
The horse neighed softly, scrubbing his hoof on the ground. Frank ignored him, buttoning up his jacket to the neck and pushing his long, braided hair to his back. With a huff, Hidalgo strode forward and butted Frank in the back so hard that the man slipped, falling flat on his stomach.
"Now that was uncalled for!" Frank sputtered, leaping to his feet and plopping his now muddy hat back onto his head. He shivered as a glob of the thick goo made its way down his neck and back, leaving an icy trail in its wake. Frank turned to the horse, hands on his hips and ready to give the animal a good tongue lashing.
He tried not to laugh. He really did. But the sight of Hidalgo standing there with an extremely haughty and smug expression, as if saying "you brought that on yourself!" caused his lips to twitch. He broke out into soft laughter, patting the horse gently and rubbing his hand over Hidalgo's neck.
"Whaddya say me and you find a warmer and dryer place than this, huh?" Frank asked, leaning his forehead on Hidalgo's.
Hidalgo nodded, stepping forward impatiently and waiting for Frank to mount. The man did so, laughing again as he grabbed his pack and leapt upon the bareback horse.
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Grey Wolf sighed, clucking silently as he followed his best friend's trail. Frank (or Blue Child) had left in a hurry, after being literally kicked around by a few hotheaded white-skins. He knew it wasn't easy for Frank; being half one race and half the other often times left one rather confused as to which he truly belonged to. Especially when both races seemed intent on treating him as an outcast.
Grey Wolf did not mind what race Frank was though. Frank was ... well ... Frank. The brash, stubborn young man had a way of getting under your skin and burrowing like a red bug. The two had been friends since their tenth year, growing up practically attached to the hip. Grey Wolf ignored the warnings of his parents - that messing with "tainted blood" such as Blue Child would reflect badly on him. Frank was a great rider, a loyal friend, and he had the heart of a warrior. Grey Wolf really didn't care what others thought of him, or their friendship. It just was.
He grumbled to himself. At the moment though, as much as he loved Frank as his brother, he really wished to strangle him. Tracking the other man through freezing rain with a steadily disappearing trail was definitely not the way he wished to spend his week. A wry grin found it's way onto Grey Wolf's face though; he knew Hidalgo couldn't possibly be happy in this kind of weather, and the horse had a very painful way of letting one know when he wasn't happy. Grey Wolf warned Frank about spoiling the animal ... Frank however, didn't listen. As usual.
Patting his own horse, which was now making it's own discomfort known, Grey Wolf sighed again. They would have to find shelter soon or risk getting caught in the worst part of the storm later - something he knew no person with any moderate amount of sense would do on purpose. He only hoped that he would be able to find signs of the trail later, after the storm blew over. Somehow, Grey Wolf doubted it. Bad luck seemed to follow him like a black thundercloud when he was around Frank ...
"Come, my friend." Grey Wolf called to his horse, White Wing. The horse was named appropriately, for on her sides were white splashes in the shape of an eagle's wings. She was a marvelous and intelligent animal and he could never wish for another to replace her. "Let us find shelter from this horrid rain. It looks as if it will pass over soon."
Ten minutes later, Grey Wolf found a small cave large enough to house both him and his horse comfortably. Settling down and building a small fire, he only hoped that Frank had found a similar sanctuary in which to ride out the storm.
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Frank winced as his shoulder throbbed again, a direct result from Hidalgo's grumpiness over having to travel through the cold rain. He resisted the urge to scream at the horse ... it would only bring about more painful retaliations. His other wounds, although small, still bothered him. The white men he had encountered packed quite a punch, and didn't let him forget it.
Sensing his owner's (but not really, as Hidalgo was truly free to come and go as he pleased ... he just preferred to stay with Frank) feelings, Hidalgo gently nudged the man's shoulder in apology. Frank grinned.
"It's okay. I'm fine. Or I will be, as soon as we find a place to stay."
Hidalgo huffed as if to say, "yeah right". He nudged the man again, putting more force behind it this time.
"No, I am not getting back on you. The trail is treacherous enough without me riding on you and making it worst. Now quit that!" Frank rolled his eyes. Spoiled horse ...
Giving what could only be described as a very venomous glare, Hidalgo stopped point blank and stared at the man. Frank glared back and threw his hands up. "Look, if we just ..." He trailed off.
Up ahead, through the dense trees and foliage, Frank could see a light from a window. It was barely visible but Frank latched onto it, motioning for Hidalgo to follow him.
"Come on, boy. I think I just found us some shelter."
Hidalgo followed gratefully.
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Ten minutes later found Frank and Hidalgo next to the porch of a small, well built cottage. Trees surrounded it, almost completely blocking it from view. There was a large dirt path, big enough for a carriage to get through, leading into the yard. A barn, perhaps big enough to hold a few horses stood to the left. Although it felt very homey, something was ... off. Frank couldn't describe it exactly, but something just wasn't right. The air felt colder here, more ... unwelcome. He resisted the urge to turn around and find someplace else, but this was, after all, the only place he had encountered in the past hour or so. He couldn't turn back now, especially with Hidalgo looking at him with an annoyed expression.
With baited breath, Frank approached the door and knocked three times. With a creak, it swung open slightly, causing Frank to pause in confusion. He then noticed something on the porch ... something he had overlooked until now. Blood.
Frowning, he slowly pulled out the knife he kept on his belt and pushed the door open the rest of the way. The sight inside made him gasp.
Three bodies, all laid out upon the floor, covered in blood. It appeared as though they had been stabbed and dragged into the middle of the room. A mother, her open eyes staring out into space, clutched the stiff hand of a little girl who looked no more than eight. The father had obviously put up a struggle before he died, as the room was in shambles. Frank's stomach turned when he noticed something else ... something sickening and utterly disgusting. The small family had been scalped, crude symbols drawn onto their faces with their own blood.
He vaguely understood the symbols from another tribe. It meant, "Let no one live while I walk this earth. Revenge is mine." Frank shook his head and stumbled from the room, back out into the rain. He couldn't stay here, couldn't face the death that laid in that room. He had to get out. The air was suffocating him, choking him. His feet finally splashed into the mud, and he stopped a few yards away from the entrance to the small house.
It was then that he noticed the sound of several horses outside, as well as the voices of men. White men, by the sound of it.
Forgetting the knife in his hand, Frank turned and watched them come up the path slowly, letting their horses do the leading. One man saw him and yelled.
"Look, Red, there's a damn injun out here!"
The man Frank thought was Red immediately pulled out his rifle. "Stay right there redskin. Don't you move! And throw that knife down, now!"
Frank looked back into the house at the bodies, then at the men. The numbness that had settled over his mind now lifted and he started. Quickly throwing the knife down and holding his hands out to the sides, he watched as Hidalgo moved to get between him and the men.
"Hidalgo, no! Quickly, get away from here, now! I do not have a good feeling about this!" He yelled in his native language.
The men seemed to hiss at his words, aiming their guns higher. Hidalgo, although loathe to leave Frank there, did as was told and made his way back out into the woods. Frank sighed in relief.
"Joseph, Rick, go check on the family." Red said, motioning to two men beside him. "Bradley, you stay right here and make sure he don't move."
Bradley, a young man of about eighteen, nodded. Frank wondered if the younger man felt the same way about indians as the other men did. He could tell from the way Bradley held the gun, he did. It saddened him to know that the prejudices of the older men were passed on to the younger generation.
Rick and Joseph both walked into the house, but Frank already knew what they would find. The dead ones with their haunting image that stuck with you. He grimaced.
"Jesus Christ! Red, get in here now!" Rick called out.
Red growled, stomping into the cabin. He was stopped short at the sight before him. Usually a strong man, Red now fell to his knees in grief. His brother ... his sister-in-law ... and his little niece. All killed ruthlessly, for nothing. "God, no ..." Tears escaped his eyes, but he swiped at them before they fell.
Joseph stepped next to the grieving man, reaching out to comfort him. He jumped back when Red snarled.
"No! Get away from me." Red jumped to his feet, sniffing once. "We're gonna bury'em. Now." Then ... he remembered. The indian ... and the knife. "That bastard ..."
Before the other men knew what had happened, Red lunged from the cabin and onto Frank, landing a solid punch on the other man's jaw. Frank was sent sprawling into the mud, dazed.
"I'm gonna kill ya you bastard!" Red screamed, kicking Frank in the ribs. He felt immediate satisfaction as he heard a distinct "crunch" sound, letting him know he had fractured - if not broken - more than one. Frank groaned in pain, rolling over and attempting to stand back up.
A gunshot sounded from Bradley, barely missing Frank's shoulder. "Stay down, injun!" Bradley shouted.
Frank decided to do just that. He had no intention of purposely getting himself shot. Then again, he moaned as another kick landed in his stomach, could getting shot hurt this. much? Probably not.
"Red, wait! Don't kill'em yet. We'll take him back to town and he'll stand trial. Let'em get hanged legally." Rick grabbed Red's shoulder, holding him back.
Red spat on the ground. "HE KILLED THEM! My family, he killed them! The bastard deserves to die now!"
Frank, through his haze of pain, now knew exactly what they were talking about. They thought he killed those people.
"I didn't! I swear, I didn't kill those people!" He yelled. Or, tried to. The wind seemed to be permanently knocked from his lungs.
Red glared, not believing a word that was said. He turned to the other men. "Tie him up. We'll bury them and leave for town in a few hours."
"Wait!" Frank struggled to stand up, needing them to listen. He knew they wouldn't though. And it seemed, he later found out, that standing up had been a bad idea. A very bad idea.
Red turned, sneering at him. "Damn injun. You'll be lucky if I let you live til next morning." And with that, Frank watched as a fist flew towards his head, then a blinding pain engulfed him. Darkness crept in his vision as he fell back onto the ground, landing heavily onto his broken ribs.
And then he knew no more.
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TBC...
Reviews = welcome. :-)