Alternative warning: This story (chastely) depicts love between two women. If you don't like it, then scram!
Violence: Not much, about the same level as the show.
This is the long awaited sequel to my story "Call of the Wilderness." It is suggested you read that first.
Email only constructive comments to me at firstname.lastname@example.org.
The vigilantes of the town stood up, their faces, dirty from mining, hard and cold. The leader of the posse escorted the tall, beautiful, dark haired woman up the stairs to the platform, where she was ordered to place her feet within the large square.
"For the crimes of murder, robbery, theft, and unnatural behavior, we find Rochelle Keane guilty. The jury has decided she shall hang for this!"
The mob below roared, their faces unshaved, hats tattered, pants filthy from the mud of their mining lives. They were an angry lot, vengeful towards anyone who dared to rob them, be rich or poor, a rough outlaw or slick city slicking professional gambler there to siphon off their hard earned gold. Rumor said the gold was almost mined out of the local creek, their old ways of life about to die off. Rock blasting would soon oust them, and they'd have to either find a new virgin creek or adapt somehow to life's little curveball that was aimed their way.
The bounty that was out for this outlaw would make the posse able to remain in their ways a little longer. The local skinner sharpened his ax nearby, anticipating the swing of his ax as he seized the evidence that they had indeed captured the Storm Queen. The tall woman shut her eyes, knowing that her life would lead up to this day, at the end of the rough noose that the leader placed around her neck, cinching the knot tight so she could not escape.
Not that she could escape with her hands tied tight and her legs bound with rough twine.
"May God forgive you, for we will not!" the mob leader cried out with a shriek out of the depths of hell. "Hang her!"
Storm grimaced, awaiting the end. Her and her companion Heather managed to be parted a few days earlier; she looked high and low for her lost companion when the posse nabbed her and dragged her into town to be tried and executed.
I'm sorry, Heather, I meant better, she thought, eyes downcast as she felt the door begin to give.
A loud shot fired, and her feet followed her through the trap door. What the hell... The posse leader ducked for cover, and several more shots were fired off in quick sucession, the noise of the mob becoming eerily silent.
I cannot see a bloody thing in here! she grimaced, trapped in the dark recess under the trap door. Wait... she realized, feeling a sharp rock nearby. She rubbed the ropes on her hand, eventually managing to break the bonds. Her hands newly freed, she loosened the knot around her neck and feet, and stood up.
A blonde head poked inside the chamber door. "Here, Storm," a woman said, dropping her down a piece of rope. "Grab on."
"Don't worry, just grab on!"
The tall woman hurriedly climbed the rope out of the door, onto the platform. No man was in sight. "Where'd they go?" she asked, confused.
"Got scared as mice and had to go piddle. Come on, we don't have much time until they come back out to finish the job!"
They ran down the stairs to the street below, where Heather had her black mare hitched. She hurriedly unhitched the reins, jumped on the horse, followed by Storm, and ran off out of town.
"That was too damn close," Storm sighed a while later, safely out in the countryside. "Where the hell were you?"
"Where the hell were you?"
Storm shrugged. "Mute point. I'm just glad you got there in time."
Darkness forced them to pitch camp in the lonely countryside. Heather crunched on a biscuit, the last of the rations from their last stop at the general store a few days prior. Storm sat at the edge of the camp, her eyes vacant, her arms crossed across her knees.
Heather turned her head and lifted the biscuit. "Want any?"
The outlaw shrugged and grumbled in the negative.
She grumbled in the affirmative.
"Uh huh," she grumbled.
Heather turned her eyes back to the fire, eating the last two bites of the biscuit. She has been awfully quiet lately. She wiped her hands of the crumbs, got up, and sat next to Storm. The tall woman didn't seem to notice, so she put her arms around her.
"Don't touch me," she icily growled, causing Heather to scurry back.
Across the campfire, Heather watched her worriedly, the object of her focus not noticing the sad look in her green eyes. She watched her silent companion for a few minutes until she found herself unable to stop yawning. "I think I'm going to go to bed."
"Goodnight," Storm mumbled, staring into the fire. The blonde crawled under the blankets, her eyes shut and breathing evening out soon after.
The smell of apple orchards wafted by as she stood by the peach tree in the meadow, the luscious smell of its fruit making her mouth water. The tall dark haired girl watched the horizon; she'd be coming any moment now.
Rochelle wasn't sure what made her mouth water more, the fresh peaches or the beautiful girl down the old dirt road with her innocent face that was very endearing to the young teen. She felt her heart race, a bit confused why she'd react that way but she wasn't arguing either. Whatever it was, it had to be a good thing.
The object of her adoration came running from the meadow, and she jumped into the tall girl's arms, knocking the teen down. The red head laughed.
"You're supposed to catch me, silly!" she giggled.
"Gee, that's rather tough when you're barreling towards me!" Rochelle protested, gasping when two hands gently placed themselves on her ribs.
"Yeah," Rochelle said, looking up in the redhead's beautiful green eyes.
No one else was in sight of the meadow, but they would never have cared. Under the low hanging peach tree the two innocents made virgin love, untouched by the brutality of life, the jaded eyes that the adults had they had yet to possess, the fear of giving their hearts away not instilled in them yet. Rochelle wasn't sure what happened, but it was good, she decided, her breathing slowly returning to normal, a wave of contentment washing through her body, her first love wrapped up in her long arms.
It would be their first and last time. The next day at church the pastor tearfully announced that the entire Windlow family was dead, the father murdering the mother, the daughter, the beautiful red head with the ethereal green eyes, and her little sister before he shot himself in the head. She felt her heart tighten, unable to breathe. It could not be, they were to spend their lives together....
No, no, no.... she wanted to cry out, but the gods did not hear her that day. Why? Why must she be taken away from me so soon?
Pa announced right after the service that she was marrying Mr. Holmes down the road within the months. "But Pa, he's nearly eighty!"
"So?" he growled.
She sat in her bed, her tender heart broken, her world imploding like a glass house around her, sending shards into places where the human heart was not equipped to deal with it.
But this time the ghost came that night to comfort her, wrapping her arms around her as she cried into her bosom, crying "why did you leave me? Why?"
"Why did you leave me?" the dark haired woman cried out in her sleep. Heather rocked her back and forth.
"I'm sorry I left you, but I'm here again. It's going to be okay, Storm, it's going to be okay," she quietly cooed.
Bloodshot, tear filled blue eyes opened themselves, looking up into Heather's concerned green orbs. "Why?" she gently asked, shutting her eyes, the agony tormenting her.
Heather rocked her back and forth. "It's okay, I'll never leave you again."
The tall woman tried to regain her composure.
"You want to talk about it?"
Innocents like her should be spared my deviant tales. "It's alright, Heather, it was just a nightmare," she hoarsely answered. "I always have this nightmare on the anniversary."
"The anniversary of what?"
"A friend's death."
She felt Heather's humming vibrate through her rib cage, a lovely vibration that made her eyes droopy, yearning for untormented sleep. Green eyes watched the landscape and dying embers, alert for the silent intruder that had upset her dear friend so much.
She felt the arms of Morpheus take her gently to sleep, just like it had her dark haired companion. And into the night, they rested in peace.
Started and finished June 4th, 2001
Email all comments and suggestions to email@example.com.