Short Stories and Stuff

Yes that alliteration was intentional. So I have decided to post a little short story I wrote for one of my classes. Feel free to post any improvement suggestions you have but be warned that the likelihood of me taking anything you suggest into consideration is probably nill. So grab a Dr. Pepper and some air popped pop-corn with way to much butter and enjoy.

The swirling sand made it all but impossible to see the footprint. Just a slight indentation in the ground made it barely possible to see. I crouched down to see which direction the foot was heading in. Heading west. I hopped back up on top of Nelson and spurred him on. This guy was a real bad guy. Wanted for two murders back in Dandridge County and from the way he carried those out probably even more than that in other counties. But for $10,000 I’ll track anybody, even without being commissioned by the Marshall.
I surveyed the desolate landscape looking for any more signs. No luck. Just saguaros and sage brush. I tipped my hat back and readjusted my bandanna across my neck in an attempt to block the sun. Again, no such luck. Nelson kept on across the desert while I reached down for a drink. This wasn’t the first ne’er-do-well I had tracked. I had caught even more. All I had ever done was follow my nose and that gut feeling in my stomach. More than once that sinking feeling in my gut had saved my skin. I kept a close lookout for signs as we walked along. Occasionally a broken twig would let me know I was on the right track.
Signs were getting scarce when I noticed what looked like a big carcass a little up ahead. I pushed Nelson to a gallop and pulled up alongside the big buffalo carcass. Or what was left of it. Mostly just bones with some with a few ragged pieces of skin remained. Didn’t look like humans killed it, they would have spent more time getting the skin off it. Must have been some sort of animal. I jumped down to take a look around and sure enough found enough animal tracks to make an accurate conviction. I took a look down to see what type of animal would have caused it. Wolf tracks? No. Couldn’t be. I had never seen wolves this far south. But sure enough those were wolf tracks. Had the little claw marks and everything. Most have been a few of them from the number of prints around. Well, no worry, they are all fed and won’t be hungry for at least a couple of days.
I decided that this was as good a place as any to bed down for the night and pulled out my bed roll and started up a fire. Just as the light was dying I picked off a rabbit for dinner. The sun went down a little further in the sky and I faded off just as the sun dipped behind the horizon. A few hours later I was awakened by the howl of wolves as their voices reached the full moon. It was beautiful in a scary sort of way. The howl of wolves is different from that of other dogs or coyotes. The howl of a wolf is a full, beautiful sort of wail rather than the nervous scream from coyotes. Despite the noise I drifted off to sleep and didn’t wake till morning.
I woke just before sun rise and was on the trail just as it poked its head above a distant mountain. Hill is more accurate, but it is the closest thing to in this area. A few miles down the trail I came upon an Injun tribe. As I got closer I could see ‘em all runnin’ around mad as hornets. I made my presence known and they came up to me shouting about losin’ one of their children. I told ‘em I had just come from a little further east and was huntin’ a known killer. They said wolves took the kid and I told them they were imagining things. I left the tribe just as I found ‘em, still mad as hornets.
I picked up his trail again a little past the Injun camp and must be getting close cause his footprints were getting more defined. I kept on his trail until his footsteps were entirely trodden over by other footprints. As I took a closer look it was as I feared, wolf tracks. He didn’t deserve to go out like that. It was too good for him. He needed to hang in front of the families of people he murdered. But there was no reward without a body so I followed the wolf tracks hoping they would lead to where they left him.
Just before dusk I rode into Custis. A small town built around a spring. Town maybe too large a word to describe it. The saloon was the most prominent building among the bunch so I tied off Nelson in front and went in to take a look around. They had rooms upstairs so I got myself a room for a change from the desert ground and made myself comfortable. After a change and a quick shave I went down to the bar to have a chat with the bartender.
“What can I get ya?”
“Nothing to drink. Not yet anyway. You see a fella by the name George Adams?” I asked knowing he was probably dead anyway.
“Not tonight.” He replied.
“What do you think of those wolves we have been hearing around here?” He asked
“Mighty strange.” I said. “I have never heard of wolves coming this far south.”
“Mighty strange indeed.” The bar tender affirmed.
We kept on small talking until just before the sun set. Just as that sun was going down I saw the dirty scoundrel walk in through the double doors of the saloon. The wolves didn’t get him. If I would have had my gun I would have settled things right there, but it was back up in the room so I kept on small talkin’ while he ordered people around getting set up in a room. Room 205. It was that easy. I gave him a few minutes to get comfortable while I grabbed my repeatin’ rifle and buckled on my pistol. I crept down the hall to room 205 and with a heavy kick smashed in the door. I burst into the room with my rifle pointing the way and staring right down the barrel of my rifle was a wolf. Sort of. He was bigger than a wolf and was standing on his back legs. His big yellow eyes stared at mine for an instance until a sudden and unexpected leap sent him through the window. I rushed to the window and fired a few shots at the fleeing creature as he sped away from me. He was fast and after a few moments watching him I knew there was no way of catching up. Especially on foot.
A few quick steps and leaps brought me to the floor of the hotel and I as I ran out I managed to put a few more shells in my rifle. I leapt up on Nelson, holstered my rifle, and spurred him after the wolf. The tracks were fairly easy to follow out of town and I kept on his track running Nelson at almost a full gallop. His trail led me outside of town into a lava field. I followed him down a narrow corridor of rock walls when I lost the trail. A rock shifted on the wall behind me and I jerked around and watched the gaping mouth of the wolfman get larger and larger. My hand unconsciously went to the pistol on my hip and just as I could feel the hot breath of the wolfman on my face the pistol fired sending the bullet straight through him. His lifeless body crashed into mine knocking me off Nelson and crashing painfully into the lava rocks. I pushed off his body and watched the hairy skin recede from the face leaving the more recognizable face of George Adams. Nelson neighed a little as I dumped the body on his back and settled in the saddle. The Colt Dragoon, made to kill men, horses and apparently wolfmen.