The Circle C...or Lust in the Dust, a time travel wetern...

[ariosto]

OOC...This is a time travel western for 'along came mary' and myself...we will open it for other players as the plot develops...






Professor Emeritus of American History, Earl Carter Bronson took another swig of vodka and reached for the bottle of pills on Mary Svenson's dresser.
Beside him lay the Louis L'amour novel he'd been reading and the disordered sheets of the article he'd been working on...
"Calico Gals Won't YouCome out Tonight...a discussion of sex and morality in the Old West."

He was lying naked on Mary's bed. Mary wasn't there. Mary was gone for two weeks to Acapulco with Brad Armstrong, the new chair of the Bio Research department. They were no doubt fucking at this very minute.
Her note was terse and to the point. He'd found it waiting when he'd let himself into the pretty grad student's apartment for his usual weekend trist..

"Earl, I'm sorry but I think I've finally found 'Mister Right'.
It's been a lot of fun but you know you really are to old for me. Please get your stuff and leave the key on the table. Big HUGGGGGG!...Mary."

So....he opened the liquor cabinet grabbed the Smirnoffs and threw himself on the very bed that brought to mind so many delightful memories.
He wasn't really going to kill himself of course, but he did like melodramatic moments even if it they were acted out for himself alone...

Unfortunately he didn't read the label before he popped the six little pills in his mouth...
Mary please give these to Doctor Flinwater at the Center for Paranormal research.
Don't confuse them for aspirin!...HaHa...Brad.

Closing his eyes for a moment he suddenly smelled the strangest oder...what on earth?

Horse shit!


ARIZONA TERRITORY 1880....

Horse shit!...a big baking pile of it not a foot from his nose.
Earl sat up and blinked...he blinked again.
Where was Mary's apartment!
Where was Mary's bed!
Where was.....

Oh GOD!...

Around him lay a blasted landscape from a Clint Eastwood western movie.
Saguaro cactus...tumbleweed...aching blue sky...distant mesas...
keening wind...blast oven heat...horse shit!
Bronson leaped up, rubbed his eyes....looked again.
It wasn't going away.
He stood beside a road...a road!...a flat palce with wagon wheel ruts wandering away in both directions...
A sign hanging by one nail from a post...

Tombstone...8 miles

Tombstone!...Tombstone...He was in Berkely!
No no. Professor Steele you are NOT in Berkely any more.

He hears a sound horses hooves, the creak of wagon wheels. Thank God some one was coming!
Coming fast!

Professor Bronson jumped into the middle of the rutted trail just as the buckboard, going hell for leather rounded the turn.
The pretty woman driving it was flabbergasted! The last thing in the world she expected to see on her way back to the Circle C was a tall naked man in the middle of the road....

 

[along came mary]

Grace Claiborne

http://www.geocities.com/ms_demeanor_69/Grace.x


It had been an all too tiring day for Grace Claiborne. Not to mention, the fact that it was late summer and hotter than Hades did little to ease her discomfort. She reached up readjusted her straw hat, pulling at the dark tendrils that clung wetly to her neck and face. The majority of the day had been spent trying to round up help for The Circle C, the ranch her recently deceased husband, Tyler, had left her saddled with. Her plea for paid work-hands and help had gone unanswered. It wasn’t that there wasn’t good strong men available and in need of a paying job. No, that wasn’t it at all. She knew exactly the reason behind her difficulty. The all too powerful and influential Rhett Taggert.

The soil had yet to settle on Ty’s grave that Rhett Taggert had been knocking on her door. He wanted The Circle C in a bad way and was none to happy at her denial of his multiple offers. He’d pretty much up and decided to play dirty now, making Grace and The Circle C a veritable pariah among the community of Tombstone. Thank God that Mr. Johnson at the mercantile took mercy on her, snubbing his nose at Taggert’s ‘suggestion’ to conveniently revoke her line of good standing credit. She ground her teeth at the mere thought of the man. It would be a cold day in hell before she’d let Taggert have even an inch of the land Tyler and she had worked so hard on. She was hell-bent and determined to make a go of it.

The buckboard wagon, loaded with some supplies from Johnson’s mercantile ambled down the dirt road, stirring up a cloud of reddish dust in its wake. She slapped the reins against Bessie’s rump, urging the horse into a quicker trot. She really needed to make it home in time to unload and check on the cattle. One was confined in the barn due to the fact she was heavy with foal and would be delivering any day now. Her mind was mired down with thoughts of the impending delivery as she rounded a rather sharp bend in the road. Her mouth dropped open to an ‘o’ of surprise as her eyes lit on the sight that greeted her.

A completely naked man was standing in the middle of the road. His shocked and confused expression nearly mimicked Grace’s too a tee. She reared back on Bessie’s reins, bringing the horse and wagon to a shuttering, skittering stop.

“Dammit to hell! You blasted fool! I nearly ran you over!” She bellowed angrily at him, green eyes flashing as she regarded him boldly, disregarding his state of undress.

“Just who are you anyway? And where are your clothes?! Were you robbed?” She asked warily as she reached down, grabbing the Winchester rifle that rested below the bench seat and sliding it across her lap. She stood, peering down at him, lifting the rifle to make it ready. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Or are you one of Taggert’s boys?” She hastened a quick glance around the area before returning to the strange man. “Answer me, Mister. Patience is not a virtue of mine.”

 

[ariosto]

A noteworthy introduction...


"Patience is not a virtue of mine."
and she jacked a load into the 12 gauge to emphasize the point.
Poor Earl hardly noticed how damned picturesque the Lady was as his knees went weak and his stomch filled with sick,frightened butterflies.

"HOLD IT!...HELL...I MEAN HOLD IT...DON'T SHOOT!"

She drew a bead on his belly button..."Talk fast Mister, I got no time t'be talkin' to a naked crazy man."

"No..NO!...I'm not crazy...see , my names Earl Bronson...uhhh DOCTOR Earl Bronson and I..."

Her eyes narrowed...this was just LIKE somethin' Taggert would pull, her skin started to crawl, she could practically see the bushwhakers cocking their pieces while she lolligagged with this
idiot.

"A Doc are ya...well that's horse shit Mister, the only doc we had in these parts left to run a whore hiuse in Nogales six months ago...'sides what is a Doc doin' butt naked as a lizard in the road.

"Miss, I'm not that kind of Doctor..."
Bronson started towards her. She stood up...
"Stand right there stranger or I'll let daylight through your belly!"

He froze.
"Listen, honest to God I don't know how I got here, I was lying in my...."

She felt the vibration of the hooves before she heard them...riders, lot's of em! Taggert!...Damn his soul!

She snapped the reins and the buckboard took off in an explosion of dust, knocking him sidewise in mid-sentance.

He made a desperate grab for it and hauled himself over the side picking up half a dozen evil splinters in tender parts in the process.
Peering over the tail gate he saw a dozen, wild, rough looking men pounding after them on frothing horses.

"Hey You!"
It was the gal drving the rig....
"Take this an start shootin' or your gonna be swingin' from a cottonwood in about ten minutes!

The winchester almost got away from him but he made a last minute save and looked at the well worn weapon like it was a snake. The last gun he'd shot was his Daisy BB rifle when he was 13 years old!



OOC....Cool pic Miss Claiborne!

 

[along came mary]

Grace Claiborne

The buckboard creaked and thundered down the dirt road, leaving Taggert’s men choking in a cloud of dusty clay dirt. Grace had her hands full of reins, cracking them hard, giving Bessie full head to an out and out gallop. She spared a glance back, her heart pounding in her ears. There were at least six men on horseback bearing down on them thought they were too far back to recognize. Apparently the ‘Doc’ wasn’t part of the group seeing as how he’d scrambled aboard and was burrowed in the one free corner of the small buckboard wagon, eyes wide in shock.

“Hey Doc!” Going with pure gut instinct, she turned and tossed the Winchester to him. “No free rides around here! Take this and start shooting or your gonna be swinging from a cottonwood in about ten minutes!”

Taking the reins one-handed, she scrambled underneath the seat with her free one for the box of extra ammo. She let loose a slight whoop when she found it and tossed it back to ‘Doc’.

“What in blazes are you waiting for?!” She bellowed, “They’ll be on us in no time! Have at ‘em!”

She slapped the reins again as they careened around rather sharp corner, barely keeping the wagon upright in its flight. She could hear the men’s catcalls and hollering behind her. They seemed to be getting closer and closer. She fought back her rising panic as she grit her teeth angrily and urged Bessie harder.

The sounds of the firing shotgun overtook the noise of the men on horseback. Grace glanced over her shoulder to see one of the men clutch a hand to his shoulder and fall from his horse. Not to say that wasn’t the only pleasant sight that greeted her. Apparently ‘Doc’ had over came his initial shock and came into his own. There he stood, naked as the day he was born, legs spread wide to balance himself in the near run away cart, taking aim at yet another one of the ner-do-wells giving chase.

Another shotgun blast let out causing one more of the pursuers to drop like a rock from his mount, hands clutching his wounded leg. The men on horseback slowed and jerked their mounts around, pausing only to pick up their fallen compardres before turning tail and giving up the chase. Grace let out a shout of pure glee!

Maybe it was being shot at by a man who obviously knows his way around a shotgun, or maybe it was that said man was buck naked, or perhaps it was the combination of both… Grace really didn’t know why the men turned tail, and to be completely honest, she really didn’t care. She was more than happy with fact they had given up, at least for the moment.

She loosed a sigh of pure relief as she saw the gate for the Circle C loom in the distance. Home! Home at last.


OOC: That's Ms. Claiborne if you please.

 

[ariosto]

"Here. Cover up."
The pants she tossed him stood up all by themselves, and the faded shirt was made up mostly of patches...slow fat flies hummed around the mess.

He looked at her in alarm.
"Those...are not fit to wear Ms. Claiborne!"

She looked at him levelly...
"They were good enough for my last wrangler, they're good enough for you...and you'll fry like a slab a bacon in this sun unless you put 'em on."

The screen door slammed shut and from inside the house he heard a..."Oh Yeah Thanks...good shootin'"

Earl sat down heavily next to the clothes, barely disturbing the circling flies...
What had he gotten into?!
No dream this...nope.
He was somewhere near Tombstone in frontier times or else he was on the set of a spaghetti western and nobody was speaking Italian.
"Clint Eastwood where are you!", he laughed.

"So solly no more mistah Eastwood here anymore."

Earl jerked around to see a rotund five foot chinaman standing in the door.
The grinning creature bowed...
"My name Li Fat, I cook. Mistah Eastwood, those his clothes. Mistah Taggert very bad man, shoot mistah Eastwood in his..."
The chinaman pointed at his groin and laughed.
Sure enough there was a hole the size of a .45 slug right where his dingus would be calling home.

"You put on clothes Mistah, sun cook you like slab of bacon...HeeHee"