Post by Midnight on Jan 24, 2006 13:44:30 GMT -5
{Old West Time}
"Jones! Jones!"
Jasper turned from the wagon pieces he was mended, fixing his eyes on the door. He preferred to work in solitude so he was positioned in a little shack hidden from the harsh Western sun. As the door creaked open, he stood, tall and broad-shouldered. His button-up cotten shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbows and oil stained his calloused hands which he tried to wipe on his blue jeans.
"Jones!" A man burst in, panting. He was short, slightly round, and sweating buckets while mopping his forehead with a soggy handkerchief. "A lady's horse tripped right outside of town. His leg is broke and they gonna put him down unless you do something!" Johnson seemed to believe that heaven would fall down around his ears unless he helped women in any way he could. It would be beyond him to ever disrespect one. It wasn't so much for the horse that Johnson cared, it was that the woman who rode the horse would lose her property.
Despite the urgency in Johnson's voice, Jasper moved slowly. First he wiped his hands on a damp rag, managing to remove most of the grease. Then he took his hat off of a peg on the wall, fixing it on his head. Johnson was dancing in one spot and practically took off running when Jasper ducked out the door.
The day was hot, like the day before and the day before that. Like every day. Occasionally Jasper wondered what made people come out West in the first place. He himself had hitched a ride, working his way over with a circle of covered wagons. Striding over to where Johnson had taken off to, Jasper's boots kicked up dust, swirling around him in the midday sun. His blue eyes glanced at the town. It hardly deserved that name, more like a couple of streets of buildings someone had forgotten in the middle of nowhere.
A few minutes later, he had reached the place where the horse was, heaving and screaming, it's legs thrashing wildly. A couple men stood near, one fingering a rifle. His finger kept darting to the trigger as if he couldn't wait to pull it. To the other side of the horse, a woman stood, watching. Jasper walked around to the back of the horse so that he would not be in the way of its feet.
The horse was a large bay stallion, magnificent animal. It would be a shame to shoot something like this. Softly, he clucked to the horse, rubbing his back and nose with his hands. The horse stopped its frenzied thrashing, but his eyes rolled back in fear. Jasper stood and walked over to the broken leg.
"Help me," he said, his voice deep. One of the men started; half the people in the village had never heard him talk. Slowly they walked over, each holding down one of the horse's legs. Johnson himself took hold of the bridle to control the animal's head. Jasper gently lifted the broken leg. The horse screamed with pain as Jasper moved the bone to the correct position. The men moved slightly and grunted with the effort of holding down the horse's legs. A flash of light and a bring blue ring flowed down the leg, making a loud crackling sound. Jasper let go and moved back quickly, followed by the other men. The horse scrambled to its feet, in perfect health, cantering slightly and trying to toss its head as Johnson hung on to the reigns.
Jasper adjusted his hat and then turned to the lady. His strong hand was still on the brim and he tipped it respectfully.
"Jones! Jones!"
Jasper turned from the wagon pieces he was mended, fixing his eyes on the door. He preferred to work in solitude so he was positioned in a little shack hidden from the harsh Western sun. As the door creaked open, he stood, tall and broad-shouldered. His button-up cotten shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbows and oil stained his calloused hands which he tried to wipe on his blue jeans.
"Jones!" A man burst in, panting. He was short, slightly round, and sweating buckets while mopping his forehead with a soggy handkerchief. "A lady's horse tripped right outside of town. His leg is broke and they gonna put him down unless you do something!" Johnson seemed to believe that heaven would fall down around his ears unless he helped women in any way he could. It would be beyond him to ever disrespect one. It wasn't so much for the horse that Johnson cared, it was that the woman who rode the horse would lose her property.
Despite the urgency in Johnson's voice, Jasper moved slowly. First he wiped his hands on a damp rag, managing to remove most of the grease. Then he took his hat off of a peg on the wall, fixing it on his head. Johnson was dancing in one spot and practically took off running when Jasper ducked out the door.
The day was hot, like the day before and the day before that. Like every day. Occasionally Jasper wondered what made people come out West in the first place. He himself had hitched a ride, working his way over with a circle of covered wagons. Striding over to where Johnson had taken off to, Jasper's boots kicked up dust, swirling around him in the midday sun. His blue eyes glanced at the town. It hardly deserved that name, more like a couple of streets of buildings someone had forgotten in the middle of nowhere.
A few minutes later, he had reached the place where the horse was, heaving and screaming, it's legs thrashing wildly. A couple men stood near, one fingering a rifle. His finger kept darting to the trigger as if he couldn't wait to pull it. To the other side of the horse, a woman stood, watching. Jasper walked around to the back of the horse so that he would not be in the way of its feet.
The horse was a large bay stallion, magnificent animal. It would be a shame to shoot something like this. Softly, he clucked to the horse, rubbing his back and nose with his hands. The horse stopped its frenzied thrashing, but his eyes rolled back in fear. Jasper stood and walked over to the broken leg.
"Help me," he said, his voice deep. One of the men started; half the people in the village had never heard him talk. Slowly they walked over, each holding down one of the horse's legs. Johnson himself took hold of the bridle to control the animal's head. Jasper gently lifted the broken leg. The horse screamed with pain as Jasper moved the bone to the correct position. The men moved slightly and grunted with the effort of holding down the horse's legs. A flash of light and a bring blue ring flowed down the leg, making a loud crackling sound. Jasper let go and moved back quickly, followed by the other men. The horse scrambled to its feet, in perfect health, cantering slightly and trying to toss its head as Johnson hung on to the reigns.
Jasper adjusted his hat and then turned to the lady. His strong hand was still on the brim and he tipped it respectfully.