wildwesternwoman - Tumblr blog

[wildwesternwoman]

Yeehawgust 2023: Wide Open Spaces

Howdy, folks, I hope you’ll saddle up and join us for Yeehawgust’s 5th year this August!

Yeehawgust features daily art prompts as well as alternative weekly prompts, for those of us who are a bit slower on the draw. Don’t draw at all? No problem! Submit any art at all, be it illustration, comics, writing, fanfiction, photography, embroidery, sculpture, music, or whatever other creative endeavors you might enjoy. All skill levels are welcome, and this can be a great opportunity to experiment with new styles and techniques. 

Whether you love canonically western media like Red Dead Redemption and Fallout: New Vegas, or you’re looking for a chance to make a cowboy AU and put your blorbos in a Stetson and spurs, this is the month for you!

Tag your work with #Yeehawgust and follow along here on the Yeehawgust blog. If you include any external links or directly tag another Tumblr user in your post (which may impact search visibility), make sure to also tag this blog or contact the mod directly so your work will get reblogged! 

Check out the “Reblogging Policy and Q&A” linked on the blog for more info about Yeehawgust. The event is also Yeehawgust on Twitter and YeehawgustPrompts over on Instagram, but Tumblr is our first home. 

And remember, y’all: be rootin’, tootin’, shootin’, and most importantly, be kind.

[wildwesternwoman]

Epiphany (ARC Trooper Fives/OFC)

A/N: This is my first foray into Star Wars fan fiction. This is not a fix-it fic, so MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD. PROCEED WITH CAUTION. 

As always, feedback is appreciated it. 

The sun rose on Coruscant and glittered off the tall building, shimmered as it touched the speeders racing all different directions. But it really shone in all its glory when it graced the Jedi Temple with its rays.

And Lorena Daleb, perched as high atop it as she could force her limbs and lungs to climb, was ignorant to it all. She sat, eyes closed, attempting to meditate, but rather deep in thought. Maybe this is meditation. But she knew her mind raced too quickly for a true meditation. Though the sun was beginning to warm her, her blood ran cold on occasion when she remembered what had brought her to this perch.

No one in the temple had told her. If we ignore the problem, it will go away. She believed their outlook to be. If we pretend this bright young knight is not in love with a traitor, then it will not be true. Maybe she was being too harsh. But she would’ve preferred to hear the news from anyone other than Appo. And almost a month after it happened.

“Fives is dead, General Daleb.”

“Dead.” It was the only word she could muster. “Dead?”

“He…” And for once, Appo felt that he might be in over his head. But he was the Commander and Fives was one of his men. “He attacked the Chancellor and would not surrender to General Skywalker. He threatened Commander-"

Lorena’s hand halted any further statements.

Fled. That was the only word to describe what she did in that moment. She fled. So fast and so far. She knew that she was being eaten alive with grief. And fear. And at that moment she both wanted and dreaded nothing more than a more senior Jedi coming to speak to her about it. She was certain it was flowing off her in waves. The ache was so deep in her that she was certain it was touching, altering, every inch of her body. Seeping into her bones and cells, changing her DNA. Forevermore, there would be a Lorena Daleb before ARC Trooper Fives and a Lorena Daleb after ARC Trooper Fives. She had once found herself considering that possibility in a very different sense.

She had spent a portion of her early Knighthood on Kamino. She had met and befriended many of the Clones. She fought alongside her former master's Commander Monnk many times and would gladly give her life for him or any of her men. But she was at the Battle of Kamino. She witnessed first hand the bravery and courage of Fives and his brother Echo. She fought alongside them in other battles and sought them out when they were all planet-side on Coruscant. She considered them her friends, more trustworthy and more dear to her than even the fondest of Jedi.

Nothing inappropriate or unseemly had ever happened between she and Fives. They respected, and, perhaps, she allowed her thoughts to just this once venture this far, loved each other enough to avoid the kind of trouble that would bring for the other. But there was always something there. In the way her eyes sought his from across a battlefield, the way his hand found hers on a busy foreign street, and the easy silence of mornings off. The peaceful domesticity they were allowed to exist in for only a few hours. The way they were able to be normal. Just two young friends, maybe madly in love, maybe not. Two people against the galaxy.

And if there were ever a person she'd want beside her as she fought the whole galaxy, it was him.

It was always him.

And if only she hadn’t taken that mission alongside Master Vos. Or taken extra time with Aayla on the way back from Ord Mantel, then maybe. Perhaps if she-

"You couldn’t have stopped anything, Lorena.”

She finally opened her eyes, unsure if those words were her own.

“You can’t stop anything, Lorena.”

She took a deep breath.

“You can’t stop love. You can’t stop life. You can’t stop death.”

She turned her eyes to the sun. They reminded her of his eyes. The way they would sparkle when he would laugh or drink a little too much. Or look at her. Her heart leapt from its frozen state. Even now, the memory of his laugh brought butterflies to her stomach and a smile to her face.

[wildwesternwoman]

Yeehawgust 2021: Midnight Ride Howdy, folks, it’s almost August, and I hope you’ll join in for Yeehawgust’s 3rd year!

Yeehawgust features daily prompts as well as alternative weekly prompts, for those of us who are a bit slower on the draw. Don’t draw at all? No problem! Submit any art at all, be it illustration, comics, writing, fanfiction, screenarchery, photography, embroidery, sculpture, or whatever other creative endeavors you might enjoy. All skill levels are welcome, and this can be a great opportunity to experiment with new styles and techniques. 

Tag your art with #Yeehawgust and follow along on the Yeehawgust blog. If you plan to include any external links or directly tag another Tumblr user in your post (both of which may cause posts not to show up in the hashtag), make sure to also tag this blog or contact the mod directly so people can see your work! 

And remember, y’all: be rootin’, tootin’, shootin’, and most importantly, be kind.

[wildwesternwoman]

For everyone not partaking in a Secret Cupid or other Valentine event (or even if you are!) here’s a little Valentine Mix & Match Prompt Board to inspire you this holiday! Interpret these prompts however you like, and let a song set the mood. If you use the board, please tag #RDRValentineMix as I’d love to see the results! Happy Creating x

[wildwesternwoman]

Hello pardners, I made an ask game ☺️

RDR2 Story mode questions

1. Silver Turkoman or Gold Turkoman?

2. Killing Jimmy Brooks or saving Jimmy Brooks?

3. Main missions or stranger missions?

4. Colter or Shady Belle?

5. Horseshoe Overlook or Clemens Point?

6. O'Creagh’s Run or Elysian Pool?

7. Valentine or Rhodes?

8. Helping Mary or leaving Mary behind?

9. Arthur’s hat on or Arthur without hat?

10. Processing with story or discovering the map?

11. Keeping stolen horses in stable or selling them to fence?

12. Drinking with the Aberdeens or leaving them?

13. Repeater or rifle?

14. Smoking cigarette or drinking alcohol to replenish dead eye?

15. Draft horse or war horse?

16. Gun or bow for hunting?

17. Escaping from ambushers or fighting them?

18. High honor or Low honor?

19. Daytime or nighttime (in game) ?

20. Sleeping at gang’s camp or own camp?

20+1. A Quiet Time or The Battle of Shady Belle mission?

Feel free to add (and feel free to ask me 😋)

[wildwesternwoman]

Yeehawgust Day Five: Campfire Tales

A/N: I am doing Yeehawgust this year as writing prompts (and I am slowly catching up). While this is an RDR blog, this is ORIGINAL fiction. There is, obviously, a lot of inspiration draw from Red Dead as well as other Western games, movies, TV shows, and books that I love. Mostly in the names of characters. All characters, however, are my own. All prompts will follow the same group of characters.

Again, this one is pretty short and is meant to go along with Day Four. 

As always, feedback is appreciated.

Soundtrack: Annabelle Lee - Sarah Jarosz (these songs don’t really mean anything to the story, they’re just what I listen to when I write)

Sophia was certain she could get to the Flat Land with her eyes closed, if she had to. She knew the way there just like she knew every rock and road on the ranch. But she always hated making the trek in the dark. Despite not being really that farout, it always felt like it was miles.

           The Flat Land was the nickname given to a level, secluded spot of the ranch out past the barn. It was where high school parties were held, college make-out sessions, and, more recently, where some folks would gather on Friday nights to tell ghost stories and generally act like high school and college kids.

           On this particular Friday night, Sophia was heading out there alone. She was planning on starting the fire and enjoy the quiet evening, figuring others would join her as the night wore on. The full moon was still making its ascent, but it was bright enough to cast light on everything around her.

           This should be comforting, but it did nothing but cause the shadows to spook her. Damn it, she internally cursed. She should be stronger than this. She wasn’t some little scaredy cat. She was a grown ass woman.

A grown ass woman who couldn’t shake the thought that she was hearing footsteps behind her.

I’m panicking, she thought. I’m giving in to the anxiety. I just have to breath. I’m fine. I’m safe. I’m fine. I’m-,

           A fox’s scream in the woods to her left caused her to stumble. It sounded just like a woman screaming, those damn foxes. If she landed on this gravel and cracked her head open, she’d come back and haunt those damn foxes.

           But she didn’t hit the ground. Just like in every romance novel she’d ever read, arms wrapped around her and steadied her just in time. She hadn’t realized she had had her eyes closed or had been holding her breath until she began to breathe again and actually opened her eyes just to come face to face with a dark eyed Ryan.

“You were the footsteps, oh thank god, you were the footsteps,” She whispered, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

He didn’t laugh. “Did you hear that scream?” he asked.

“It was a fox.”

           He was looking toward the woods now as he let her go. His jaw was set tight, he was focused. She loved looking at him like this. He was so handsome when he was working on something. She especially loved when he looked at her that way. But right now, it scared her.

“Ryan, I’m pretty sure it was a fox.” She took his hand as he stepped in the direction of the noise. “They’re around here all the time.” She squeezed his hand, but still got no reaction. “Ry-,”

           He shushed her. She looked to the woods herself. She couldn’t see anything but the shadows of trees. She stepped up next to him, staying close to his side, and strained to hear what he was hearing. Seconds ticked by like hours before she finally heard it.

“Footsteps,” he whispered.

“A fox,” her voice betrayed her fear.

“No.”

And then the footsteps began to run.

At them.

[wildwesternwoman]

Yeehawgust Day Four: Dead Man’s Hand

A/N: I am doing Yeehawgust this year as writing prompts (and I am slowly catching up). While this is an RDR blog, this is ORIGINAL fiction. There is, obviously, a lot of inspiration draw from Red Dead as well as other Western games, movies, TV shows, and books that I love. Mostly in the names of characters. All characters, however, are my own. All prompts will follow the same group of characters.

This one is a lot shorter. It and the next one kind of go together, but I decided to separate them for the sake of organization. 

As always, feedback is appreciated.

Soundtrack: I’ve Got a Tiger by the Tail - Buck Owens

Len Clifford was a hard worker. He really was. He would work twelve hours with the cattle then spend the next two hours helping with the horses and be up at 3AM the next morning ready to go without complaint. But he was always looking for an easy buck. And poker, for him, was the easiest.

           Sure, it could be risky, but Len was smart and most of his colleagues were stupid. At least they were where poker was concerned. He could almost always count on making a couple hundred from them. Enough to go into town and find some real fun.

           Len always figured that, if he were them, he would quit coming to poker night. But they always showed up, paychecks in hand. Ready to turn it over to Len to do whatever he wanted with.

           On this particular poker night, Len ran into somebody he didn’t expect waiting outside the bunk house. Tall, blonde, and beautiful Miss MacKenzie Alder. The boss lady. He didn’t know what she could be doing here, but Len flashed his infamous cheeky smile and greeted her anyway.

“Miss Alder, how can I help you?”

           MacKenzie took him in. He was quite handsome. Probably the most handsome of all the hands. And he knew he was handsome. That sandy blonde hair and those blue eyes. She wondered how many partners he had scattered around the area.

“I hear there’s a poker game going on here tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am, there is,” He leaned against the porch railing. “You gonna offer the winner a date?”

She smiled her most polite, aura of business smile. “No, sir. I’d like to buy in.”

           Now Len, in good conscious, could not take money from the boss lady. It just wouldn’t be right. And not just because she was the boss. Or the boss’ daughter, at least. He was just not raised to take money from a lady.

“Well, now, Miss Alder-,”

“Stop. We’re not working. I’m not your boss right now. I’m just another employee here and I want in on the poker game.”

Well, if she insists.

           Len simply nodded and opened the door for her. He had a real bad feeling about all this, though. He didn’t quite feel like he knew her well enough to have her at poker night. Didn’t know how she played or how she would react if lost.

Oh, god, he thought, what if she bans poker?

[wildwesternwoman]

Yeehawgust Day Three: Pony Express

A/N: I am doing Yeehawgust this year as writing prompts (and I am VERY behind). While this is an RDR blog, this is ORIGINAL fiction. There is, obviously, a lot of inspiration draw from Red Dead as well as other Western games, movies, TV shows, and books that I love. Mostly in the names of characters. All characters, however, are my own. All prompts will follow the same group of characters.

As always, feedback is appreciated.

Soundtrack: The Man Comes Around - Johnny Cash

“Let me have it!” Sophia screeched.

“Why, Sophie? It isn’t yours is it, Sophie?”

Mickery snatched the envelop from Len’s hand. “Why does he call you that anyway? All the time I known ya, no one’s ever called ya that.”

“Why dontcha go ask him? And give me that before you go.”

“Hey!” Andy’s voice boomed out, scaring all of them to stillness. They stared at him wide-eyed. Andy’s anger was not a fun thing to be on the business end of. “I thought I told you guys to leave that alone. It ain’t none a y’all’s.”

           Andy took the envelope from Mickey and laid it on the bed where he could see it as he buttoned up his shirt. MacKenzie had asked him to take it to the neighboring ranch. It surely wasn’t anything too important cause she didn’t even seal it. It was a large manila envelope and all she did was button it closed.

“I think it’s certainly my business,” Sophia interrupted.

“And just how’s that?”

“Well, it’s my ranch.”

           The boys laughed and Sophia stubbornly put her hands on her hips. Sometimes they all felt like they were children, merely pretending to be adults. Occasionally they would break character. This was one of those times.

“It’s your daddy’s ranch, Soph.”

           Andy did feel for Sophia. He really did. Things had been all laid out for her just the way she wanted up ‘til recently. Her sister came home from a cushy corporate law job and just waltzed right into Sophia’s job. Andy badly wanted to know why. Had Sophia done something in the almost year he had been gone to warrant her replacing? Was MacKenzie just that good at running ranches? He couldn’t see that.

           Andy wanted to ask Mr. Alder – and had it been a year ago, he might’ve. But things just didn’t quite feel the same anymore. This was still home, but it felt like the family had changed. Len and Sophia – and Mickey – they were really all he had left. The only things that had remained the same in that year. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“That’s Sophie,” Len teased, pulling Andy from his thoughts.

           He found himself lost in thought a lot recently. Reflecting on the changes he was seeing, on life, on definitively not being a young man anymore. He’d never felt older. At just 35. How pathetic. While the others argued on about Sophia and her new nickname, he thought about how he felt. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. He didn’t know if he wanted to know.

           He buttoned up his shirt, put on his hat, and picked up the envelope. Paying no mind at all to his friends bickering behind him. He walked right on out, much to their shock. Was he even listening to them? No, no he was not. And ss he walked out of the house, he came face to face with another person he didn’t want to hear babble on about childish nonsense.

“Where ya goin’, Rockford? Runnin’ out on our race?”

Damn Ryan.

“No.”

“Well, it sure looks like you’re leavin’.’”

           Andy pushed passed him, not quite feeling like he owed him any sort of explanation. He knew he wasn’t handling all the changes well. Ryan was kind of his boss. But he had done nothing to cause Andy to show him any kind of respect. He was certainly not a leader.

           And Ryan was certainly not used to the lack of respect that Andy consistently showed him. Sure, he might’ve been an old hand, but he had been gone a long time and a lot of things had changed. He was going to have to be shown that things were much different now. He placed his hand firmly on Andy’s shoulder.

           Andy whirled around, face to face with Ryan. Both of the men felt angry and disrespected. It was an absolute recipe for disaster. Andy’s immediate urge to ball up his fist and punch Ryan directly in the face vouched for that.

“Ya wanna take your hand off ‘a me?”

“Ya wanna tell me where the hell you’re goin’?”

“No, I do not.”

           Ryan felt like he was at a crossroads here. If he let Andy get away with this disrespect, it would save a fight. A fight that could potentially land both of them in a lot of trouble with Hosea or Mr. Alder. But Andy would then always feel that he had a right to disrespect him. If he put him in his place, however –

“Let him go now.” His internal monologue was cut off by a feminine Southern voice. “I said now, Ryan.”

           MacKenzie Alder was her daddy’s eyes and ears on this ranch and she was out to prove she could do a better job of that than her sister. Two of their best workers killing each other would not lend itself to her favor. She was already at a disadvantage in that a lot of the older hands didn’t like her, especially Andy. They felt she had stolen the job from Sophia, even though she was immensely more qualified. Perhaps coming to Andy’s rescue would win her some point.

“Not that it is any of your business since Mr. Rockford is off the clock, but he’s running an errand for me. Taking some documents over to Green Rose.”

           Ryan looked at Andy a beat longer before letting him go and taking a step back. MacKenzie was a smart woman, she had to know that Andy had to be taught to respect more folks than just Sophia and those hands he hangs out with. They were not the ones in charge anymore.

“I expect no further issues from the two of you. Or both Hosea and my father will be informed, and that ends well for neither of you.”

           MacKenzie placed her hands on her hips – a power pose. She was in charge here. At least in this situation. No one else. Not her dad, not the foreman, and certainly not her sister. She called the shots. She wanted to get that message across loud and clear to these.

Ryan cursed. “Whatever, have a good ride, Mr. Pony Express.” And he stalked off into the house for God knows what.

           Andy looked at MacKenzie. In all the years he had worked here, he felt this was the first time he had really seen her. She looked similar to her sister in that they were both around the same height and blonde with light eyes. MacKenzie’s were a striking blue where Sophia’s were a deep green. They shared the same nose and same look on their faces when they were angry.

           But as Andy studied her closer, he realized the two could not be more different. Sophia was a cute girl-next-door type. Sweet and funny, she always looked like she belonged here. MacKenzie, on the other hand, did not. Even around the ranch, she wore dress clothes. Dresses, blazers, boots that you’d sooner see at a gala than in a pasture. She carried herself differently, too. At first, it seemed like she was more confident than her sister, but at closer look, she just expressed that confidence in her body language.

           Sophia was effortless, MacKenzie was all strategy. Andy reckoned both had their good and bad points. He just hoped she wasn’t expecting a thank you for coming to his aid. She didn’t seem to be. She just nodded at him, instructed him again to get that envelope to the neighbors, and then walked off into the house, as well.

           Andy could only ponder where that left him as he made his way toward the barn. He almost didn’t want to take his horse now after Ryan’s little

pony express

quip, but it was a faster route than the roads from this ranch to the next, so he saddled up anyway and headed off

[wildwesternwoman]

Dead Man’s Hand

Sweat rolled down his back, icy beads sending a shiver through his form. It contradicted the temperature of the afternoon, the stifling heat that hung in the air pressing against him. His fingers grasped the cards in his hand, paper wet from the sweat of his palms, as he chanced a glance at the other occupants. Three men sat at the card table, their clothes dusty from the barren dirt filled street outside, edges of their jackets and shirts frayed. The only part of their face he could see was the curve of their jaw. Sunburns and scars littered them like the bumps and nicks on old worn leather, the wide brim of their hats shadowing their eyes. He gets the distinct feeling that they are looking at him.

Why did he have to open his big mouth?

He knows that every time he does he always ends up on the wrong side of the gun.

The slight scruff of boots against the wooden floor draw his attention to the fourth man in the room. He walked the walls, fine leather shoes glinting in the candle light. The man was dressed like he should be walking in the streets of a city, not the streets of this backwater mining town. The man’s eyes flashed under the shadow of his hat, seeming to glow in the half light. They draw him in, reminding him of dark wells, holes that seemed to go on forever but never far enough. He quickly adverts his gaze, sweat pooling at the base of his spine as he tosses the last of his chips into the pile.

Each man answers, some tapping the table, others matching his bet.

He glances again at the cards in his hand, paper bent and damp. He hopes what he has trumps the other hands. He hopes that he can talk his way out if it doesn’t.

All the while the suited man watches as he crosses back and forth against the wall like a tiger in a cage.

One by one the men lay their cards against the table. Symbols and numbers fanning out against the dark stained wood. They wait for him to reveal his hand, heads raised towards him, eyes flashing in time with the fire of the candles.

The contents of his stomach curdled, the alcohol that got him into this mess long gone. He lays the cards slowly against the wood.

Two aces.

Two eights.

One Jack of diamonds.

The men sit in silence, hands stilled on the top of the table until one by one they turn their heads to the man against the wall. The man approached the table, long legs crossing the distance easily. But to him it felt like an eternity. The man surveys the cards, eyes now hidden as he looks at each hand. He chuckles before he speaks in a deep voice, accent mixed and unknown.

“A Dead Man’s hand... How fitting.”

The other men move reaching for their guns but a glance from the man stills their hands.

“Well played, Sean Macguire. Well played indeed.”

In a flash of smoke, each man disappeared from the table leaving only Sean and the man behind.

For once, Sean was silent watching the man as he trailed his finger against the wood. His steps measured and heavy as he walks around the table. One by one the candles die with each step, slowly bathing the room in darkness.

“A fitting hand for a man who cheats death-“

Step

“-but it seems your time is almost up.”

Step

The man stops in front of Sean, his eyes glowing in the darkness and Sean falls into their gaze trapped.

“You best do well to keep your wits about you, Mr. Macguire. Don’t want to lose your head now, do we?”

Sean swallows, his throat dry, skin clammy and cold.

“What are you...?”

The man tips his hat, the light of his eyes glowing brighter as the candles light flickers, spluttering against the thick darkness that chokes him, smothering him.

“Surely you should know...,” he says, the darkness swallowing him. He leans in closer, face next to Sean’s as voices whisper, call from the black.

“But just this once I’ll tell you. You won’t remember in the morning.”

The voices scream.

Sean shoots up, dread pooling in his stomach as he struggles to remember the nightmare that turned to vapor in the mornings grey light.

“Get up, Macguire! We got ourselves a ferry to catch!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sean grumbles, tossing the threadbare blanket back from his sleeping bag. He walks away, stretching, towards the fire. But unnoticed, tucked away in the folds of his bag, was the Ace of spades. Its edges were stained with sweat, paper bent from being held in a tight grasp. The design on the back showing a portrait of a man wearing a top hat, mustache swirled up at the corners, eyes glowing in the early morning sun.

[wildwesternwoman]

Me, a creative writing teacher: telling my students about the importance of planning and having outlines and plot diagrams and at least a vague idea of the storyline 

Also me, actually writing: doing absolutely none of that and winging everything with a song and a swear 

[wildwesternwoman]

Lol I just realized one of my Yeehawgust OCs is Sophia Alder. I promise that did not (intentionally) come from Sadie Adler.

[wildwesternwoman]

Yeehawgust Day Two: Giddy Up

A/N: I am doing Yeehawgust this year as writing prompts (and I am behind). While this is an RDR blog, this is ORIGINAL fiction. There is, obviously, a lot of inspiration draw from Red Dead as well as other Western games, movies, TV shows, and books that I love. Mostly in the names of characters. All characters, however, are my own. All prompts will follow the same group of characters.

This one ended up way nerdier, I think? I’m still working on the character development.

As always, feedback is appreciated.

Soundtrack: Old Town Road - Lil Nas X/Billy Ray Cyrus/Mason Ramsey

Andy had been back at work for a week and was continuously in shock at the behavior MacKenzie Alder allowed from her ranch hands. Hosea was a good, stern foreman, but when he wasn’t around, they made everything a competition. Something that could be incredibly dangerous. He and the other hands had always had fun, but Sophia, who was often a proxy for their father, the actual owner, and their foreman had run a much tighter ship.

           He wondered what Mr. Alder thought about this new group? Had he hired them? Had MacKenzie? Who was really making these decisions now? Certainly no one who knew how this ranch typically functioned.

“Hosea worked here a long time ago, when I was really young,” Sophia had told him one night at dinner. “I don’t even really remember him when he was here. I know my grandma had always loved him.”

           Sophia and MacKenzie’s grandmother, Eileen, had really been the driving force behind the ranch. Her husband had started it as a small farm and, after his death, many believed she would sell it to provide for her two sons, Holland and William. But she worked hard to expand it and eventually left the running of it to Holland – but not before she trained Sophia in how to run it properly, too.

“How’d he end up back here?” Len asked.

Sophia just shrugged and shoved a piece of pasta in her mouth.

Mickey snorted. “What’s ‘a point ‘a bein’ friends with the boss’ daughter if she ain’t got no insider information?”

“Ain’t the boss’ daughter,” She responded. “I’m the boss’ sister.”

“You ought to be the boss,” Andy added in, rather abruptly. This time Sophia snorted.

           He really believed that, though. Sophia should be handling the business side, like she had for years, and Mickey ought to be the foreman with Len and Andy as his right hand. The four of them could bring in a better crew and run the ranch better and easier. But maybe that was just pride. He was getting older, he was almost 35. And things had been changing a lot for him here lately.

           Once again, Andy found himself lost in thought until a fifth person joined them at the picnic table. Ryan. Hosea’s right hand man. He was the one really in charge of keeping everybody in line around here. An enforcer of sorts. He was certainly intimidating if he wanted to be. And he usually wanted to be.

           Sophia, on the other hand, described him as the strong, silent type. She claimed he was a hard worker. She never saw him doing anything else, other than maybe yelling at the other hands. She didn’t necessarily appreciate that. But he was kind and gentle to the animals and she had a big heart for folks who were nice to animals.

“Boys,” he nodded. “Sophie.”

“Ryan,” Len smirked, quite amused by the site of Sophia sitting between Ryan and Andy. Two men on the ranch that she quite liked and respected, but that certainly did not like or respect each other.

           Ryan looked at each of them before turning his full attention to Sophia. He didn’t really want to start shit with her around, but he wouldn’t take insurrection, or whatever it was called. And somebody at this table had been talking shit.

“Well, just to cut to it,” He said. “I’m here ‘cause I got a bone to pick with you, Rockford.”

           The four friends each turned their attention to him with matching expressions, though he couldn’t quite read their faces. Sophia quirked an eyebrow like she would throw hands if asked. He should’ve picked his battles better. He wouldn’t have started anything if he was afraid of anybody at this table, though.

“Ya ‘onna clarify their, hoss?” Mickey asked.

“I hear Andy here been talking shit.”

“Ah, dammit, I had money on ‘slept with mother.’” Len said, almost breathing a sigh of relief.

Sophia blanched. “Len.”

“Whatchu gonna do about it if I was, Smith? Scream at me?”

“Nah, see – I ain’t got the bluff on you like I do the rest of these boys-”

“Boys?”

“This’n’s off ‘is rocker.”

“-I wanna challenge you to a race.”

           Sophia jumped from her spot at the table, nearly knocking Mickey’s drink clean over. He grabbed it just in time with an exasperated grunt. No one else much paid her any attention, despite the fact that she was very obviously upset.

“No. No. This is where I come in. No one is racing. You are not jockeys.”

“Horeseman vs. horseman,” Ryan continued.

“No!”

“Alright,” Andy nodded. “You’re on, Smith.”

           Sophia shifted her attention from Ryan and Andy to Len and Mickey with an incredulous look. She had just told them no. She said no. But, she wasn’t the boss anymore, was she? Len and Mickey looked far more excited at the prospects before them. This could be a money-making opportunity. Good entertainment at the very least.

“Tomorrow at dusk.”

“I’ll see you there,” Andy said

“Alright, then,” Len said, rising to his feet. “Giddy up!”

           Based on the looks her got, perhaps there were a better choice of words there.

[wildwesternwoman]

Yeehawgust Day One: Back in the Saddle

A/N: I am doing Yeehawgust this year as writing prompts (and I am behind). While this is an RDR blog, this is ORIGINAL fiction. There is, obviously, a lot of inspiration draw from Red Dead as well as other Western games, movies, TV shows, and books that I love. Mostly in the names of characters. All characters, however, are my own. All prompts will follow the same group of characters. 

As always, feedback is appreciated. 

Soundtrack: The Gambler - Theuns Jordaan

It had been nearly a year since Andy Rockford had been back at the River Ridge Ranch. The hour-long drive from the small airport out to the airport was not unfamiliar to the cowboy. Hell, he could probably do it with his eyes closed. He wouldn’t. But he could. And once he turned down that secluded road that cut through the valley and ran right up to that old farm house’s front door – damn, he was home.

           He’d been in Florida with his aunt, recuperating from an injury that he’d really rather not talk about. He wasn’t sure the Alders would take him back, but they seemed overjoyed to have him. He’d never show it, but he was truly overjoyed to be back. He couldn’t wait to get back in the saddle and finally feel like himself again.

           And all of a sudden, there it was. Round one curve and the barns began to emerge. Take one left turn and you’d soon see the family’s home and the foreman’s house and the bunk house, all scattered around the property in somewhat of a half circle. The main house was large and white, Southern in style, but Western in heart.

           As the roar of his truck died down there in front of the house and Andy’s feet hit that familiar gravel, he took a deep breath and knew he was home. This was where her belonged. Or, at least, he always had. He hoped he was able to fall back into the familiarity like he always had. Another thing he would never admit to – he was scared things wouldn’t be so easy. He’d heard about a new foreman and he didn’t know if he’d get on so well with this one.

           As he was lost in thought, the front door swung open with a loud crash against the house causing Andy to turn quickly on his heel. Len Clifford stood there, a big, goofy smile on his face. Len was Andy’s best friend. A tall, lean blonde with a quick wit and a charming smile. Andy reckoned Len was a handsome man, in a way. He was a good man, regardless.

“Andy Rockford, you son of a bitch, get over here!” Len boomed, coming down the front porch steps and pulling him into a hug.

“Len, don’t hurt him!” A twangy voice called out.

           Sophia Alder, no doubt. A blonde, green eyed mess of a girl. She was in charge of the business operations of the ranch. Or she had been, a year ago. Apparently, she had been replaced by her siter MacKenzie for some reason that Len couldn’t quite figure out. Sophia was a hard worker, kind to her ranch hands, and fierce when needed. Andy couldn’t quite figure out why she would be replaced either.

“Hi, Soph,” He smiled, pulling her into a hug. She always smelled good, even if she’d just come from the barn.

“How are ya, man?” Len asked. “I’m alright. I’m alive.”

“Well, we weren’t always so sure.”

           Andy winced slightly and Len and Sophia both took have a step back. Sophia shot a mean look Len’s way before turning back to Andy with a sweet smile. Andy realized that before him stood the two people he trusted most in the world. And in the shape he was in, that was important to know.

“Come on, Andy. We’re going to set you up in a room in the house.”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t feel right about that. I can go back in the bunkhouse.”

“No. I won’t hear anything of it,” she took his arm and led him up the porch steps and into the house. “Besides, you know how those beds in there are.”

“And yer just gonna let me keep sleeping out there?” Len asked from behind them.

“Well, when you get injured, you can sleep in here,” she turned to Len. “Would you like for me to injure you?”

Len smirked. “I mean, that just depends-,”

“No.” Sophia took Andy’s arm again and continued on to the second floor of the house. “Ain’t much changed ‘round here in that way,” She smiled.

           She and Len had always joked and flirted. Andy never figured they had much real romantic interest in each other, they were just comfortable with each other. Len had worked here almost longer than anyone else. Only Mickey Gallagher had been here longer. And only by two years.

“This is it,” Sophia said, stepping into a large room with a comfortable looking bed centered against the back wall. Two big windows on the far wall looked out onto the back fields. “Is this ok?”

Andy took it all in. “Sophia, I really can’t-,”

“Andy, stop.” She looked sincere as he turned his full attention to her. “You’ve done a lot for my family and for this ranch. Now a lot of things has changed since you’ve been here, but you’re still a valued member… of this family, really. Not just a hand.” She crossed over to the windows and looked out, longingly at something. “We want you here. I want you here. Now, is this ok?”

He couldn’t help but wonder what she was looking at as he nodded and set his bag down. “This is fine.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Good, I expect to see you back in the saddle first thing in the morning. Hosea and the others will be happy to meet you, I’m sure.”

           She stepped away from the window and walked back to him, kissing him on the cheek as she exited the room, shutting the door softly.

Back in the saddle, he thought. Here we go.

[wildwesternwoman]

Yeehawgust 2020: Back in the Saddle 

Howdy, folks, it’s almost August, which means it’s time for this year’s Yeehawgust! 

Yeehawgust features daily prompts as well as alternative weekly prompts, for those of us who are a bit slower on the draw. Don’t draw at all? Well, that’s no problem! Submit any art at all, be it drawing, writing, screenarchery, cosplay, collage, or whatever other creative endeavors you might enjoy. Tag your art with #Yeehawgust or, if you plan to include any external links or to directly tag another Tumblr user in your post (both of which will cause posts not to show up in the hashtag), make sure to tag this blog or either of the moderators directly so people can see your work! 

 And remember, y’all: be rootin’, tootin’, shootin’, and most importantly, be kind.

[wildwesternwoman]

At this point I feel like this blog is a cryptid for most of you. I’ll flash across your dash or your search and then disappear for another six months and no one else will really believe I was back anyway.

[wildwesternwoman]

Hi, friends. I’m looking for beta-readers for an original fiction story that I have been working on. It’s called Southern Gothic and it is a modern southern gothic drama (with romance/mystery/a little bit of comedy layered in). I am very early in the story, but I’m dying for some feedback so I can help plan out which direction to go. 

[wildwesternwoman]

Hi, friends!

I want to say thank you for sticking with me even when I’m so shady about updating. I have some lovely requests in my inbox that I hope to work on over the next week. As much as I love Red Dead, I am also going to open up requests to other fandoms. I have varied interests so making a list of things I would write for would be impossible. Some ideas might be: Star Wars, Blackkklansman, other Westerns (old school like Bonanza or new stuff like Hell on Wheels), honestly if you have an idea, send it to me and I’ll see what I can do.

I will say, I don’t watch any anime so I probably couldn’t do that well. But I will give anything else a good shot! 😊