We hope you all had a safe and fun Halloween. And now please enjoy another chapter. We LOVE hearing your thoughts and theories in your reviews, so don't be shy. We won't bite...
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The Marksman
Chapter 3 – Crazy Izzy and the Injun
Devil's Fork AZ, May 1875
The summer sun was blinding as it beat down on the little white clapboard cottage, nestled amongst the large Saguaro cacti and the Joshua trees. Close up you could see the white paint was blistered and peeling in places, the narrow path of pebbles and rocks leading up to the front door needed to be weeded and raked, but the house still maintained a quaint sense of coziness.
Isabella Swan carried a small basket to the line strung between the back door of the house and the post in the middle of the garden. Though garden was probably too strong of a word for the small accumulation of succulents and various other desert-hearty plants.
Her dark hair hung gently across her back and after lifting her face to the sky, she could feel there was no wind today and her wash would just hang on the line and get stiff. As she walked slowly to the line, her eyes shaded by the weathered Stetson she'd had since she was twelve, she felt a small pang of loneliness and all she could do was square up her shoulders and brush it off. The bright smile on her face was forced, but she was determined to get through today without incident.
No need for hysterics, she thought, as she pulled a clothespin from the pocket of her apron and secured the corner of a large white sheet to the line. There wasn't near as much wash, or cookin' to do for that matter, since Charlie had died.
She hummed a high pitched, fast, little tune to keep herself company as she set to work emptying the basket of wet laundry. She saw the dust start kicking up in the distance before she heard the hoof beats ringing out against the parched earth. Jumping over the basket of wet laundry and tipping it over she ran to the house clutching a handful of her skirt to keep from tripping. Why had they come? Why, today of all days, did they have to come and spoil her morning?
Isabella ran to the closet and grabbed her daddy's rifle, checking the magazine to make sure it was loaded, before pulling down on the lever and sending a round into the chamber. This was no social call. All she had hoped for this morning was a boring Monday with out incident, and here she was getting all of Hell's demons come to call her out!
The yellowed sheer curtain fluttered slightly as the three horsemen rode up to the split-rail fence surrounding the front edge of the Swan property. It was clear that she knew they were here. Arrow wondered briefly if they'd receive as hospitable a greeting as their previous meeting.
Before they'd made it halfway up the gravel walk, the door flew back abruptly and the old screen door banged open, sorely testing the creaking hinges. A small but ferocious young woman wearing a Stetson and men's boots stepped onto the porch brandishing a rifle nearly as long as she was tall.
"Get off my land," she growled at the three riders. Her eyes spitting fire as she looked at each member of the trio aiming the end of her gun directly at their chests. The brothers slowly continued forward. They knew that together they were a menacing presence and they fully expected this undersized woman to back down.
Arrow was a wiry man with greasy black hair that he always wore loose, stuffed under a dark Stetson with a deep crease in the middle. Marcus took up position behind Arrow. He was larger than Arrow, but had the same long black hair that he kept tied back with a leather thong. And always trying to be the fashionable one, his hat of choice was a derby.
But they knew their real ace in the hole when intimidating anyone was Cassius. He was born during a thunderstorm and the midwife couldn't get there in time. As lightning split the tree out in front of the cabin, his mother died and their superstitious house servant from Mexico said he was cursed. Cassius aimed to take that curse to everyone else so they would all be as miserable as he was. He was an albino and bore the white blond hair, translucent white skin, and red eyes that came from his condition. He always wore a long duster and leather gloves to protect himself from the burning rays of the sun. His wide-brimmed hat was always pulled down low over his eyes. It was only if you were looking at him directly that you'd see the red color flashing when his eyes met yours.
"Now Miss Swan, is that any way to talk to yer pa's old friend?" Marcus and Cassius sidled up on either side of Arrow, their thumbs hooked lazily in their gun belts.
"You'uns were never friends to my Pa," Bella spat out, her eyes never leaving Arrow's. "Now git off of my land!" She waved the gun wildly, motioning for them to back off.
She was shaking, more from fury and the adrenaline rush than from fear. These three lowlifes, Arrow, Marcus, and Cassius Valentine, had been after her land since the last shovel of dirt was tossed on her daddy's grave. They'd been out here more than once to try and convince her to sell, but she wasn't having any of it. This was her home. She loved the land, she loved the fresh air, and she loved her Hualapai neighbors. Isabella had made a promise and she was stayin' put.
"Isabella, how are you gonna manage keeping this place up all by yerself? The fences are already startin' to break down, you got no income, you'll be out on yer ear before years end. We've made you a sound offer, now stop being s'dang stubborn and take it." Arrow's words, which started out in a condescending, patient tone, finished in scarcely veiled anger.
The men were fuming and Arrow was getting more and more irritated by Isabella's refusal to sell. Their window of opportunity was running out as fast as his patience, and they needed her and those filthy Injuns off this land yesterday.
She lowered the rifle a bit and narrowed her eyes on Arrow. "You don't have your hands in my purse and what's it to you if my fences are broke down?"
He scowled again at her inability to see reason. "Looky here Iz. We're just tryin' to be charitable like, lookin' after the best interests of a lone lady." His scowl turned into a sneer as he changed tactics and tried to intimidate her into changing her mind. "You'd be smart to take the offer. I'd feel awful sorrowful if something dreadful wuz to come upon you." Arrow inched his way a little closer to the house.
Isabella quickly leveled the rifle and aimed it directly at Arrow's heart and took a small step forward. "Now yer tresspassin'. I ain't takin' your deal. For the last time, Get. Off. My. Land."
"Isabella, is the violence really necessary?" Arrow crooned patronizingly.
She lifted her aim just slightly and fired the rifle, sending Arrow's hat flying off his head. He ducked and fell to the ground, spluttering in anger as foul language spilled from his lips, while his two brothers jumped away in surprise. Isabella pushed the lever down hard on the rifle loading another round into the chamber and firing again into the dirt near their feet.
Arrow scampered back on his hands, dragging his lower half in the dirt. Marcus and Cassius grabbed him by the arms and hoisted him up. Arrow reached down and picked up his hat, examining the singed hole that had been torn through the felt by the bullet. "Tarnation!" shouted Arrow, "you are crazy!"
She pumped the lever again and lifted it to Arrow's chest, "So they say. I ain't gonna miss again. I'm sure the sheriff's on his way too."
"You're makin' a big mistake." Arrow seethed as he dusted himself off and stalked to back to his horse.
"Well now, ain't it mine to make?!"
Arrow Valentine's dark face was etched into Isabella's mind as she watched the three men kick their horses into a gallop. The words of warning echoed in her mind sounding more like the threat they were intended to convey. The memory sent shivers down her spine as she remained rooted on the front porch of her home.
Finally, feeling the weight of the firearm in her grip, she lowered the rifle and swung it so the butt rested on the inside of the door frame, leaning the barrel against the door itself. Bella leaned her forehead against the door jamb and started humming again, high and fast. Sure enough a few minutes later, the sheriff came riding up to the same spot the Valentine's had just vacated.
"You alright, Iz? I heard the shots, and came out to check." The diminutive sheriff, Ben Cheney, had been deputy to her father, and on account of his honest and dependable nature, he was chosen by the townsfolk to step in for the late Charlie Swan. Though he wasn't large in stature, his voice and presence were oddly commanding.
"I'm good Ben, just the Valentines again, not leavin' when I told'em to, trespassing really."
"You let me know if they come 'round bothering you again."
Isabella nodded woodenly to the sheriff and smoothed the creases of her apron.
"Been thinkin' about'cha today. Went and paid my respects at the cemetery already."
"Thanks Ben, that means a lot."
With one last tip of his hat, Sheriff Cheney turned his horse and rode back towards town.
Isabella sighed and picked up the rifle, pushing open the door to her empty little house. It had been one year since her father died. Gunned down in cold blood is more like it though.
"Have a good summer everyone! I'll see you back in September." She patted the heads of all the younger children as they filed out of the schoolhouse, the older ones she shook hands with. She made sure to scold the boys she knew were prone to trouble, though her teasing tone let them know she wasn't really cross with them, just that she cared.
She hummed cheerfully as she wiped off the stack of slates left by the door. The last day of school was always bittersweet for Isabella. She'd miss the children, but was glad for a little break. She enjoyed teaching even if it did put her outside of the norm for the women of the town. She didn't mind; it gave her an excuse to read even more than she did as a girl. Though now at the ripe old age of twenty-four, she feared that spinsterhood was her future; all of the men shied away from her wit and intelligence. At least she'd always have her father and she knew she could take care of him and their home.
She'd been filling that role since her mother died the year after they moved to Devil's Fork. It was a hard move for Renee; the journey from Philadelphia had been too taxing. She succumbed to a dreadful fever when Bella was just eight years old. Bella tried to shake off the memory of her mother's pain-racked body as she closed up the schoolhouse and walked slowly down the road towards the outskirts of town, to the little house she shared with her pa.
The sun sat low in a pool of pinks, oranges, and yellows. The horizon was kissed with a colorful mixture that was so perfectly vivid against the plain canvas of the desert. She sighed as she looked at her father's untouched bowl of stew. He wasn't usually this late coming home. Her ears perked up at the soft clip-clop of a horse on the hard-packed lane that led to the house. She opened the front door, the warm greeting poised on her lips dying in her throat when she saw the slumped-over form of her father. He was listing dangerously to the side, almost falling out of the saddle.
She gathered her skirts and ran down the walk to her father's horse and just barely managed to break his fall as he tumbled out of the saddle. In the dim light of the fast-approaching twilight, she saw the blackish red bloom spread across his chest and fought to hold back the retch that threatened to escape.
"Pa! What happened?" Her words were frantic and breathless as she took in his disheveled appearance.
"Bells," he said rasping, his eyes fluttering closed as his hands grasped her sleeve. Panic swept over her and she shook his shoulders.
"Who did this to you pa? Who?" Her voice rose as fear swept through her body.
"Don't sell. Promise." His voice was raw and raspy as he struggled to speak.
"Promise what? The house? The Land?" she questioned, her fear quickly turning to sheer terror as she watched him fight for every breath. "What shouldn't I sell?" Her hands were moving restlessly over his face as tears ran unheeded down her face. "Oh, dear Lord, that doesn't matter now, please, Pa, tell me what happened!" The sobs shook through her body as she tried to hold him upright in her arms.
Charlie Swan coughed and Bella cringed at the sound of the wet gurgling she could hear in his throat and the red that now coated his teeth. "Just promise."
"I promise pa, I won't sell the land." Her tears continued to fall as her hand cradled his face.
"That's my good girl. Love you Bells." His eyes closed part way and he drew his last few shallow breaths in his daughters trembling arms.
The screams and wails attracted no one. They lived far enough away from town that no one could hear her voice. It wasn't until well after dawn that Jacob found her still sitting on the rocks of the walkway holding her father and rocking back and forth humming high and fast, the madness already having set in. When Charlie hadn't shown up for their planned fishing rendezvous, but his horse did, Billy, Jacob's father, had become worried and sent Jake to find out what was wrong.
The days following were a blur for Isabella, but once the funeral was over, she wasn't the same anymore. There was a wildness to her now that was set into her bones and she didn't give snake spit what anyone thought of her. She desperately wanted to find her father's killer and see them hanged, but she had no means, no way to do it alone. All she could do was to honor Charlie's dying wish. She vowed that it would have to be over her dead body that the Swan ranch ever changed hands.
Isabella wiped her eyes, brushing away the ghosts living in each tear shed, and quickly packed a small picnic lunch. She traded the rifle for a fishing pole and walked out the back door. Passing through the rough terrain of her property on the familiar path she used to walk with her father, she tried to shake off the difficult memories. When they became particularly depressing, she found the quiet solitude of the fishing stream to be soothing. But today, the memories were especially intense. By the time she reached the bank of the small stream that ran across the southwestern corner of her land, she was shedding copious amounts of tears again.
The large hulking figure of her childhood friend, Jacob, sat hunched over a small pail full of worms, deftly threading a little wriggling creature onto his hook, despite the size of his hands. He looked up when he heard her approach, a frown immediately pulling on his features.
He knew what today meant for his friend. Charlie was his father's best friend after all. She slumped down near the bank of the small river as he rinsed of his hands. He stood tall, dressed in typical Hualapai fashion, buckskin breeches and no shirt—not when it was this hot out. With a careless wave, he shook his hands dry and silently put his arm around her shoulders. She didn't even notice the nakedness of his torso anymore.
"I miss him Jake," she whispered tremulously as she sat beside him.
"I know you do, little one." He kept his warm, comforting arm around her while they both stared across the stream to the Hualapai tribal lands. "The Elders made a special offering and prayer this morning for him."
Charlie had been one of just a few "pale faces" that Jacob's tribe trusted or had any dealings with. Isabella was the other one. Jacob had learned English from Bella and Charlie as they would fish and hunt and he tried to help Bella learn his language, but it was completely lost on her.
With a heavy sigh, she lifted up her hook and said, "Bait me?"
Jacob looked down and smiled, seeing a bit of her usual self shining through the mask of sadness. "You got it Dizzybell."
"Ugh, Jake, you know I hate that name." She lightly punched his shoulder and a look of disgust crossed her face as he chuckled and proceeded to impale a worm onto her hook.
Isabella never liked baiting the hook, mostly because it made her think that when she was eating the fish she caught, she was also eating the worms, but when the dirty work was done, they both cast their lines into the stream and began the work of fishing.
Silence between her and Jacob was never uncomfortable, it just was. They snacked on the bread and cheese she had brought, and as they waited, they talked softly about nothing important, then waited some more. Finally Jake caught a smallish fish, and tossed it into the holding bucket.
Isabella's line was still untouched. He got up and stretched tall, scratching at the back of his head where the queue of his long black ponytail was tied with a thick decorated piece of leather.
"Been out to the cave lately?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow in her direction.
"No, not since that one part collapsed," she said with a shake of her head as she looked up at this towering form. "I need to get some more wood to shore up the sides, but I don't want to draw attention. If the Valentine's ever caught wind, they'd be after me harder than a runaway train."
Jake nodded his agreement. The Valentine brother's were ruthless in their quest for land. It wasn't exactly clear what they were after, but they'd managed to push every one of the Swan's neighbors off their homesteads and then turned around and bought it on the cheap from the bank. Isabella was the last holdout.
"Think I'm gonna try panning a little," Jake said as he dusted off his buckskin's and clapped his hands together.
She nodded her head and watched as he picked up the tin pan and walked a bit further downstream. Jake had pretty good luck panning for gold. But he had even better luck when she could direct him and that only happened when her senses were calm and she could focus her feelings. She tried to do that now, letting her mind clear and just sensing the energy of the world around her.
Isabella's looked in his direction and noted that Jake's face was pinched in a frustrated scowl. "No luck yet?" She called out.
"Nothin' worth spit," came his snarled reply. She closed her eyes and felt the familiar tingling move through her as she connected with the earth around her.
"Try moving twenty yards farther downstream."
Her line started to jerk and she moved quickly to pull in the struggling fish that was now thrashing on the surface of the water. She yanked her simple, straight pole up to set the hook and drew her line back in. Carefully, she removed the hook from the fish's mouth and dumped it into the waiting bucket to join Jake's fish from earlier.
She smiled knowingly when Jake began to whoop and holler. "Whoooo doggie. That's gotta be a good two ounces right there." Isabella laid her pole down and hopped up, walking along the stream bank to where Jacob was swishing the tin pan around in circles. He proudly held his hand out, displaying several gleaming chunks of gold.
Closing her eyes once more she cleared her mind and searched out with her senses, "Do one more pan Jacob." He nodded quietly and scooped up another shallow pan full of silt and rock from the streambed. Tipping and circling the pan yielded several more nuggets, drawing out another happy hoot from Jacob.
"We oughta get this to the bank and change it for cash; I hear they're paying close to twenty dollars an ounce."
Isabella mulled over his suggestion. She did need a few things from town, but the idea of everyone staring at 'crazy Izzy' just turned her stomach sour. Ever since she'd spent her grieving days with Jacob's tribe, all the townsfolk, save a scant few, treated her like she was daft. They'd taken away her teaching position and given it to that horrible Mallory girl, who couldn't spell chrysanthemum if her life depended on it.
Once Isabella had felt well enough to return to teaching, the mayor not-so-politely informed her that she was no longer welcome to teach the good Christian children of the town. That's when the whispering started, and was only aggravated when hints of her newly acquired talent began to spread.
Not one to be the center of attention, she stayed home more and more, much to the dismay of her true friends. Alice demanded a weekly visit, and if Bella was being honest with herself, she relished the time she spent with her good friend. Jasper was always cordial and asked about her wellbeing when she came into the bank to trade in her finds.
Emmett was good for a quick laugh, but she didn't spend much time in his establishment. The company that was inherently drawn to a saloon wasn't the most savory. His new lady friend was also a bit of a deterrent. Rosalita was an intimidating beauty from Spain, by way of Mexico. She was always dressed and made up like the queen of America was comin' to town. No one knew exactly what had brought her to Devil's Fork, but her prickly-pear exterior warded off any in-depth inquiries about her personal history.
Jacob had pulled on a worn shirt, tucked the pan and other supplies in the pack on his painted horse and the two friends walked quietly back toward Isabella's house. Jacob quickly saddled her gentle pony and the two trotted into town.
As expected, all eyes turned to the unlikely pair. "It's crazy Izzy and the Injun," one of Isabella's former students whispered to his mother. She buried the sadness she felt, packing it around the millions of broken pieces of her heart. Why people had to be so narrow minded and cruel, she would never understand.
Jacob offered her a hand when she dismounted, giving a reassuring squeeze. He once thought he might like to marry this pale faced girl, but the tribal elders, no matter how much they respected Charlie and Isabella, would never allow the union, fearing it would stir up too much hate. So he settled with being her friend and secret protector.
The clink of the bell over the door alerted Jasper that he was no longer alone. He turned to face the two that had just come in and a wide, friendly smile broke across his face. His unruly blond hair was held away from his eyes by a black visor and the fading afternoon sunlight caught briefly on the one gold tooth that dotted his otherwise perfect smile.
"Iz, Jacob, it's a pleasure," he spoke from behind the barred window separating him from the customers. "Been treasure hunting again?" Jasper was one of the few people that knew about the remarkable discovery of gold Isabella and Jacob had made on her property several months back.
Jacob loosened the strings on the small pouch he'd pulled from his shirt pocket, dumping the contents on to the counter in front of Jasper. His eyes widened as he took in the size of some of the nuggets. Clucking his tongue, Jasper let out a low whistle as he stepped away from the window to retrieve his brass scales. He placed all of the gold onto one side and placed the small weights on the other until the scales balanced and the indicator arrow rested in the middle.
"Four and a half ounces! That's quite a haul, little lady." His voice held a hint of admiration as he looked at her with smiling eyes.
"Half goes to Jake; you know that Jasper." Isabella never liked taking credit for using her gift to turn a profit. Jacob had tried to help her see that her little gift of insight, while drawing plenty of skepticism from the townsfolk, was the only thing keeping her alive and in ownership of her pa's land. She should be proud to have such a deep connection to the earth that it would give up its secrets to her. Jake was just the muscle, and even though she insisted he take half, he always had Jasper put half of his share back into Isabella's account.
Jasper began mumbling under his breath and his pen flew as he did some calculations before announcing the grand total. "Ninety three dollars and eighty six cents!" He declared. "Would you like some folding money right now?"
"I'll take fifteen, Jasper. I'm sure Alice will talk me into buying something from the shop."
He grinned at the mention of his sweetheart. "I'm right sure about that Miss Isabella. And for you Jake?" he turned an inquiring eye on the tall, dark-skinned man.
Jacob shook his head and waited while Jasper noted the new account balances in his ledger and counted out the bills that Isabella quickly tucked into the small drawstring purse dangling from her wrist.
"Thank you Jasper. Until next time." Isabella waved as she and Jacob exited the bank. She would have waited until later, but since she was here, she decided to pay her respects at the church cemetery. When she bent down and plucked the black-eyed Susan from next to the boardwalk, Jake quickly surmised where she was headed.
"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked gently as he watched her with sadness in his eyes.
"Only if you want." She whispered softly. He nodded and followed slowly behind her.
Devil's Fork had one small parsonage; it was the only place where God had a foothold in the town. Isabella walked quietly behind the small chapel and past the picketed gate into the cemetery, her steps measured and deliberate. She noticed the presence of several other flowers adorning the plot of ground where her father's body lay and felt pride in how loved her Father had been in this town.
R.I.P
Charlie Swan
Jan 14 1828-
May 9 1874
The rounded, reddish-brown tombstone was still glaringly new compared to the other gravestones in the small enclosure. She knelt down and gently traced the carved words on the marker. She missed him, but he would've wanted her to keep on living and she felt ashamed at the shell her life had now become.
"I'm sorry Pa. I know I haven't done your memory justice. But that's all gonna change today. Miss you old man." She placed a kiss on the bright yellow flower petals and placed it at the foot of the tombstone. Standing up on shaky legs, she brushed one errant tear from her face and mentally resolved that something needed to change and if anyone had an idea about what exactly that was, it would be Alice Brandon.
She heard Jacob offering up a chant in his native tongue and backed away to let him have his own privacy. They parted ways in front of the dress shop. Jacob had responsibilities back at his village and he certainly didn't want anything to do with the conversation that was about to take place.
Before she'd even finished saying goodbye to Jacob, the door of the dress shop burst open and a tiny woman launched herself toward Isabella. Steadying the toppling pair, Jake shook his head and waved goodbye as the two women greeted each other.
"Iz, it has been too long! Why haven't you come to visit me?" The petite black haired bundle of energy crossed her arms and humphed while tapping rhythmically with the toe of her shoe.
"I'm here now aren't I Alice?" Isabella replied, too drained emotionally to put up any kind of fight with her friend.
"Yes, you're here and just in time too." Alice reached out and laced her arm through Bella's. "I have something special saved just for you." Bella sighed as she let Alice pull her into the store. "Are those men's boots?" Alice asked as she leaned down for a closer look and inspected every inch of Bella on the way back up, sighing in unmasked despair as she slid the Stetson from Bella's head.
"I hope it's practical because I've worn through my other work dress."
"Pshaw, of course it's not practical. Why would I pick something like that out for you?" Alice released her and walked into the back room, rummaged around a bit and came out holding a lovely blue dress, edged with delicate white lace and a long flowing skirt.
"Alice, this is too beautiful," she said as Alice thrust the dress into her hands. "I don't have anywhere to wear this that could possibly do it justice." Alice was looking at her expectantly, so with a small sigh, Bella turned and ducked behind a curtain-enclosed area where she slipped into the dark blue taffeta. When she stepped back into the main room Alice's face broke into a radiant smile and she began clapping excitedly. Alice handed over a delicate pair of lace up brown leather boots that came about mid-calf and were more ladylike.
"Oh my, Iz, it's perfect, just like I knew it would be. Absolutely perfect!" Isabella gazed at her reflection in the looking glass and a small smile managed to escape the corners of her mouth.
"As usual, you're right Alice. I'll take this one and the brown one over there," Isabella pointed to a drab, but sturdy everyday dress.
"Well, fine, but you should keep the blue one on for now." Alice moved to retrieve the brown dress while gesturing toward the blue dress.
"Why? I don't want it to get dirty on my ride home." Bella protested as she let her fingers caress the soft blue fabric.
"Oh for once, just let yourself feel pretty for no special reason at all. Just trust me; I have a feeling something good is going to happen today," Alice asserted with confident sincerity. Bella chuckled a bit at this declaration. It was the one she'd been waiting for since she made her decision in the cemetery to turn over a new leaf.
"What? What's so funny?" Alice asked, eying her friend quizzically when she heard her laugh..
"Just you and your predictions." Isabella replied, still smiling at the small woman.
"Well, I haven't been wrong yet have I? Plus I know your Daddy loves you and he's out there lookin' over you. This is going to be a good day, mark my word." Alice retorted, drawing herself up to her full five-foot nothing height and giving her head a quick nod.
"I suppose you're right." Bella had to agree with her. Alice had an uncanny ability to predict future events, it's like she was tapped into the mood of the future and just knew what it meant. "Alice, I've had a lovely afternoon, but I need to get to the general store," Bella stated as she gathered the brown-paper wrapped package containing the new brown dress and the dress she had arrived wearing. "I want to browse their books to see if they have anything new, and I'd rather not return home after dark."
"Of course you don't. I hope you've had a good day?" Alice squeezed her friend's hand letting her eyes meet Isabella's briefly making sure she was doing all right.
"I'm fine Alice, today has been a good day so far." Alice smiled at Isabella's reassuring words.
The two friends hugged briefly and bid each other farewell on the boardwalk outside the store entrance. Alice returned inside to unpack a shipment of fabric as Isabella crossed the wide, rutted, brown-dirt street to enter the general store. She made a beeline directly to the shelf that held a small collection of books and began running her fingers over the mostly familiar spines.
Bella's ear perked up a bit at the sound of gunfire in the street. It wasn't uncommon for disputes to be settled in such barbaric ways as pistol shootouts. She was nearly immune to the reports of guns reverberating loudly through town. She shook her head at how ridiculous it was to settle conflict through gun fighting, and then cringed at her own hypocrisy. She'd been ready to do nearly the same thing that very morning.
Returning to her perusal of books her wandering finger stopped abruptly. Seeing the new title sent a thrill of excitement through her being. Isabella's one guilty pleasure was immersing herself in the world of Jane Austen and she took every opportunity to do so. She paid Mr. Graham the cost of the book and buried her nose so deeply in the first pages that she never saw what hit her.
Mel: Hey Belly.
Bel: Yeah Melly?
Mel: I don't think I'm ready for the coming 6 month sugar high my kids will be on with all the holiday candy...
Bel: Take it from me, it doesn't get any better when they become teenagers.
Mel: I suppose not huh. So did you know that Tapas at Twilight was nom'd at the Silent Tear awards?
Bel: Really? Congrats! Hey, all our wonderful readers, please go vote for TaT! Make Melly's day.
Mel: Thanks! The link is on my profile. It's the only T rated story in the "Best all Human" category! What about you? Got anything that needs voting for?
Bel: As a matter of fact, Bella the Lioness and A Twilight Star Trek are both nominated on The Sparkle Awards and on The Moonlight Awards. I'm just tickled pink!! Links are on my profile.
Mel: Awesome! So what do we think about Izzy?
Bel: Well, we now know how she got the name Crazy. I thought the back story about Charlie's murder was great. And I really liked the addition of Cassius being an albino. That was genius! And a little scary.
Mel: I agree. I can't wait to hear what our too-cool-for-words readers think. We need to write more chapters so we still have teasers to give...
Bel: Well, the next chapter is EPOV and it's finally finished. We should be able to give our readers are great teaser from that one!
Mel: Something they can dream about?
Bel: Oh, yes. Tall, sexy gunslinger...the stuff dreams are made of.
Mel & Bel: * Sigh *
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Names and Pronunciations:
Cassius is pronounced: Cash-us
We mean no offence to any Native Americans by using the term "injun". This is a period piece, and at that time Arrow, being a greedy, insensitive jerk, would've used such language.