Welcome To The Bullpen
OUTLAWS LUCK
By Christopher Scott
Webb blew on the smoldering tinder as Jack looked on shaking his head with a concerned disbelief. He knew this was a bad move but his disagreement with Webb over the idea went nowhere. Neither of them had eaten any solid food in almost two days and Webb wasn’t about to eat his fresh killed rabbit raw. He was willing to take his chances with the fire. But then that’s how Webb was. He was always willing to take a chance on something even if it meant putting someone else at risk
And Jack was in no position to argue with him as Webb was the meaner of the two and he was not beyond putting a bullet in him if for no other reason than to shut him up or better yet, to not have to share the hare with him. So as Webb continued to tend the fire Jack reluctantly went about gathering what wood he could find in the dark. They had made camp late and the sun had dropped below the horizon some time ago.
As he walked outside the camp he could see Webb plain as day as he added a few sticks of wood to the kindled fire. If I can see him, he thought. So could any one else that might be on their trail. Hopefully they had enough of a lead on their pursuers that that wouldn’t become an issue. The thought had no sooner entered his mind when something caused him to stop dead in his tracks. He was already nervous about the fire and now he was hearing things. Slightly cocking his head he stood silent in the dark and listened intently. He had caught the sound of what he thought was loose rock being disturbed. Webb had heard it too. Crouching by the fire he had already cleared his holster and was listening as intently as Jack. The silence was suddenly disrupted by the disturbing sound of a single shot ringing out through the cool night air. Webb fell back hard but managed to get off a couple of shots into the darkness before he lay motionless. Jack dove for cover. He was close enough to see the light of the flickering fire against Webb’s face. And from the looks of things, he knew Webb had breathed his last. Jack laid low behind a rock that seemed too small to hide him, but fortunately he was outside the camp and away from the light of the fire.
The darkness had quickly become his friend along with the gun he held in his hand.
Jack remained motionless peering into the darkness for any sign of movement. He didn’t twitch a muscle for what seemed like hours. The fire had long died out and the light of day would soon be overtaking the darkness. Jack was about to lose the one advantage the night had to offer.
Earlier, as he laid low he had thought out his next move but quickly dismissed it as being too risky. But with daybreak coming on soon and no other options in mind he reconsidered, it was now or never. If he could make it to the ridge behind the camp he could move up to higher ground without being seen. There, once the sun came up, he could get a better look at just what the situation was down below. But to get to the ridge he would have to move across open ground. It would be risky even in the dark but staying put until daylight could prove to be deadly. There really was no choice. He had to make a move. His muscles were tensed and he was poised to make his way toward the ridge when he caught the sound of something close by.
Suddenly, off to his left, a lone horse came into view. It was still saddled but there was no rider. Jack’s plan quickly changed. Instead of making his way towards the ridge, he ever so slowly made his way towards the direction of the horse. The morning light was coming on fast and just as he was wondering if his sudden change of plans had been a mistake he saw him. Lying on the ground just beyond the wash of a dry creek bed he could clearly see the body of a man. It was still, and did not look to be in a natural position so Jack cautiously continued to move forward toward the stranger. As he got closer it soon became apparent to him that he had been laying behind a rock all night hiding from a dead man. A bounty hunter most likely, thought Jack. They do tend to travel alone and he and Webb knew they were being followed. They just didn’t realize how close. Webb had managed a lucky shot just before he died hitting the stranger directly in the heart. The old man didn’t stand a chance.
With the hope that this would buy him some time Jack got busy. It was mid morning when he finished burying the two men. Not that he felt either one of them deserved it. His main concern was in hiding any evidence that could point someone else in his direction. After taking what few useful provisions the stranger had on him he hid the saddles and the tack. Webb and the stranger’s horses were left to go wild. He then took the money he and Webb had gotten from the bank they held up back in Three Rivers several days ago and stuffed it into his saddlebag. Jack mounted up and continued south to where he and Webb were to meet up with some acquaintances to plan their next job.
After two days ride across the dry desert Jack was getting close to the border of Mexico. He pushed for every mile he could get but as the day came to an end and the sun sank low he stopped to make camp. The following day, if all went well, he would meet up with the others at the old cabin they had used in the past as their base.
Little did Jack know that the area he chose to make camp was notorious for bandits and social outcasts of the unsavory type and he had unfortunately made camp not too far from a band of these low life desperados. A half dozen of them had come North of the border to raise a little hell and were on their way back to Mexico with a few bottles of whiskey and a couple bags full of their ill-gotten gains. They had stopped for the night a little earlier and were well on their way to emptying a couple of those bottles. But they were not too drunk to be ignorant of the fact that Jack had made camp not too far from where they were and they were keeping a close watch on him.
As a couple of these men were working their way closer to Jacks camp, it became apparent that the whiskey they were drinking had made them less than cautious. Jack heard the careless stumble and the muffled curse. Crouching by the fire he reached for his gun. A shot rang out and Jack fell back hard. He lay on the ground motionless. The light from the fire shown on his face. It was apparent he had breathed his last. The desperados approached him slowly. A lucky shot had hit him directly in the heart. “A bounty hunter most likely” said one. “Yes” the other agreed, “They do tend to travel alone.”
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Review 1
"I thought the story was pretty good, good writing, but I don't think the whole story is posted as it ends kind of abruptly"
T. Bradford
Review 2
I want to preface this review by saying that I am not an english teacher or a gramarian. I have been writing for many years, but I am still learning too. It is through practice, practice, practice, and accepting the constructive critisizm of writers way better than I, as well as reading some boring grammer and writing "help" books that I am becoming a better writer myself. So, as boring as they may be, some of these books are very useful- if you truly strive to be a great writer.
At the end I've suggested the names of a couple of books I think every writer should own.
First, I think anyone who has the desire to write should be encouraged, not raked over the coals because of things they have not yet learned. You have the makings of a good story here, and I sincerely see plenty of heart. (I can imagine your head is so full of writing ideas that you can hardly get them down on paper fast enough--am I right?) That desire is what makes a person a story-teller. Unfortunately, it's the mechanics that make a person a writer, and that takes a lot of boring English grammer and the like. Other than semantics, I only noticed a few boo-boo's in your story.
*** Keep simple things simple. Example, "Shaking his head with a concerned disbelief." Many novice writers tend to have their characters shaking their heads a lot, (because in real life everyone does.) Trouble is, we try to convey too much thought and sentiment of that motion with an explanation of what their head shake is supposed to signify. Use those sparingly because in reality there is no such THING as a concerned disbelief. It is a mental ATTITUDE that is much easier conveyed with something tangible that accompanies the head shake. Such as facial movements.= raised eyebrows, frowns, smiles, wrinkled noses, pouts, grimaces, or spitting, kicking the ground..etc.) You can simply state the character's frame of mind before or after the head shake. (these are called "Beats")Its easy to get trapped into 'over-describing' things into head shakes. Show the reader as much as possible instead of telling them everything, how about, "Concerned about building a fire at all, he shook his head." or, "He spat on the ground and shook his head, disgusted by Webb's insistence on building a fire." or, "He grimaced and shook his head at Webb's ignorance, finding it hard to believe Webb was actually building a fire out in the open." or, "It rankled him that Webb would even think of building..." You get the idea.
***Keeping the scene relative is another thing to bear in mind. Here are a few examples of where you boo-boo'd: "he had caught the sound of..." instead, should read "He caught the sound of" ... "the darkness had quickly become his friend..." should read "The darkness quickly became his friend. These examples are from scenes that are happening as we read them, so watch those past tense words like 'had' when in the present.
***A note on redundancy: everyone who was shot in this story was hit directly in the heart. Mix things up a little, shoot someone in the head once in a while too.
Get it in your head that NO WRITER is ever completely satisfied with their own work. You can change things forever and end up frustrated as hell, or accept that there is a point when you have to say, "This is good enough," and then let go of it. Like I said, I'm not a professional. I'm still learning too, but the more you can learn on your own, the less you'll spend on editors.
***Two books no serious writer should be without? 1. A good collegiate dictionary. 2. A good thesaurus (I recommend the "Oxford American Writers Thesaurus") ***3. If you are a serious fiction writer, also get the book "Self Editing For Fiction Writers" by (Renni Browne and Dave King) Sincerely, Steve
Review 3
Not a bad story, good plot, ironic ending that added a decent twist. The best advice I can give on this is to tell the story just like you would to a friend. Picture yourself telling someone this story, how would you describe the scene, you are painting a picture with words.
In this story there are areas where you can shave out some extra words and sharpen the scene. Write it like you would tell it and make the reader see it. Too many words and the reader drifts away. Keep it moving and crisp.
You can never rewrite too many times, don't be afraid to cut parts out and put something else in. Keep tweaking until it flows.
Keep up the writing, you're showing potential.
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