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AMG

W związku ze zgłoszonym zapotrzebowaniem na fanfiki i w związku ze (smutnym dla tu obecnych) faktem, że nie bardzo mam coś po polsku, dla zainteresowanych wrzucam angielską opowiastkę krótką, łatwą i przyjemną, przynajmniej dla czytających. Kto chce, może ćwiczyć swój angielski.

THE PICNIC

The buggy squeaked and groaned like buggies always do, and the sounds only served to intensify their joy. The day was beautiful, they had free time, they were young, and they were going for a picnic. The happiness was complete.

"It's a gorgeous day," sighed Julie. "Thank you so much for taking me out, Hoss."

The man smiled at her easily. "That's gonna be about the best picnic you ever had, cousin. Hop Sing promised me to make a meal fit for a king."

Technically, she was Adam's distant cousin, on the Stoddard side, but Hoss still called her that. Dear, sweet Julie was so kind and unassuming that right when she stepped out of the coach two days ago, Hoss found a smile for the shy girl, and hasn't stopped smiling since. "Am sure glad you came to visit Adam," he'd said by dinner that day. She had blushed at the compliment and looked beside herself with joy at being noticed so kindly. Later, Ben had a quiet evening talk with his sons, explaining that now she was an orphan, her aunt had sent her somewhere - anywhere - to find someone else in the family to care for her. Hoss had frowned at the aunt's sentiments, and politely informed his father that "since the gal's Adam's family, she's mine as well." His father's apprehensions he'd cut with the innocent remark that since they'd always been brought up like full brothers rather than half-brothers, "we ain't gonna start cutting halves now." So they all called her "cousin Julie". Hoss didn't think Adam would mind, and there was no occasion to ask him, as he was only expected today from San Francisco.

With Adam absent, it was impossible to free more than one person from their usual duties, so Hoss was taking her to the lake alone. Ben promised to come there on his way back, once he finished the most pressing matters in town, so it wasn't like they were on a date.

"You're gonna love the lake," he said. "It's just about the best view on earth."

She laughed happily. "I can't wait, then. I absolutely must see it."

Hoss sighed with pure joy and slapped the reins to urge the horses to a faster pace.

The shot came out of nowhere. The reins jerked in Hoss' hands at the frantic movements of the spooked horses, and the buggy swayed dangerously to the side of the road and the steep though grassy incline just over it.
He cursed and grabbed the reins tighter - too late - the basket teetered over, and with a small cry, Julie disappeared from his line of sight. The horses screamed and ran on.

Ciąg dalszy nastąpi...

Rika

AMG

ania2784

Jak dobry serial... akcja sie rozwija, zaczyna nabierać tempa i ..... do następnego razu. Smile

Oby w miarę szybko.

AMG

Prawie jak u Hitchcocka, nie? Zaczynamy od wybuchu wulkanu...

... a potem zbieramy szczątki. Prawie czyni wielką różnicę ;p

AMG

Continued...

Julie landed hard on her shoulder, and rolled and rolled down the slope, until she hit something that finally stopped her descent. She gasped, closed her eyes, then opened them immediately as she realised that whatever had stopped her, had groaned.

She lay partially on top of a man. His eyes were closed, but a sense of dread still overwhelmed her. He looked big and strong - when he'd wake up - where was Hoss?

She attempted to stand - fell on top of him again - tried to get up on her knees again, frightened by the sounds from above. Suddenly the world tipped upside down and she was lying under the weight of the man she'd hit. Oh dear God...

A blood-smeared hand rose to close her opening mouth. "Please..."
He caught his breath again, robbed but all by the single syllable, and managed again. "Please... be quiet... please..."

...and to be continued.

AMG

Nie jestem pewna, czy ktoś to jeszcze czyta, ale... here it comes.

Julie pulled her knees to her chest, willing herself not to cry. Unable to do so, she wiped at her face, but that just served to smear more blood over it. She glanced fearfully at the man, then up towards the road, but Hoss was nowhere to be seen, or heard. A large part of her wanted to go in search of him, yet there was that small voice reminding her of what the man had said... And, having been here for only two days, she wouldn’t know where to go, either.

She’d almost made her mind up to try to get up and head for the road to see more – then she looked at the man again, and stayed where she was. Even fear didn’t lend her enough strength to get up and leave him, hopefully never to see him again. It would be almost as if she’d never seen him, never met him, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it?

Maybe she should get up and collect what had fallen out of the basket... Poor Hop Sing, his carefully prepared work lay scattered over the grass. She ought to salvage as much as she could, out of sheer gratefulness. And she could do with more strength – she needed to eat. She glanced at the man and bit her lip to stop another round of tears from flowing, and wiped at her face yet again, mindless of the mess she was continuing to make on it.

The man shifted and opened his eyes with a sigh, and she choked on a sob. Their eyes locked: hers fearful, his glazed, and Julie knew with stone certainty – again – that it was impossible for her to leave.

ania2784

ja czytam

. Opowiadania świetne. Dawkowanie emocji też... Wink

Oby były następne.

Ewelina

Ja czytam powoli, bo muszę dość często zaglądać do słownika, ale się wyrobię...

AMG

Ewelina

Dlaczego? Jak już uda mi się usiąść przy klawiaturze i mam pod ręką słowniczek, to nawet dość prędko idzie, ale co jakiś czas ktoś inny też chce siedzieć, albo muszę coś zrobić

AMG

I oto nagroda dla cierpliwych... dłuższy kawałek.

Josh stretched leisurely, yawned and grinned at his companion. “See? Easy money. Just like I told you.” He tossed one of the wallets in the air and deftly caught it. “And this big guy,” he continued, pointing at their prisoner, “is worth a couple such wallets. We’ll be rich before sundown tomorrow.”

Keith nodded silently a couple of times, glanced at the prisoner, and continued roasting the rabbit. The third man, Logan, was snoring softly, comfortably nestled against a tree.

Hoss Cartwright quietly pulled on the bonds, trying to keep his shoulders unmoving. At first, he had been surprised at the attack. Then, despair had flooded him when Julie fell. That man Josh had gone down to look at her later, returning with a casual remark that Pretty Face was lying “on a heap” and there wasn’t much worth saving. On their way to their present camping place he still regaled his friends with what could have been with Pretty Face had she survived the fall, and expanding the sight of her one exposed calf to a full view of her naked body.

By the time the rabbit was roasting, Hoss was in a state of cold rage. He didn’t care for the injuries to his wrists, he didn’t care if they’d shoot him at some point, he didn’t care if he managed to kill them all with his bare hands or just squeeze the life out of Josh. His sweet Julie, dearest, kindest cousin Julie was dead, ravaged in Josh’s sick mind and words, offended just by his eyes falling on her. He followed Josh’s movement with narrowed eyes, carefully lying out a plan of action. Should he just wring his neck, or would he have the time to kneel on his chest to feel the ribs break and to slowly crush his windpipe?

The man noticed he was being watched, and with a sly smile, looked through the couple of wallets he was playing with. Choosing one, he tossed it over to have it land at Hoss’ bound feet.
“Recognise it, big man?”

He glanced at the initials, pressed onto the leather many years ago by an inexperienced hand, and knew at once who it belonged to. They hadta have ambushed Adam, as well.

“Need help? That there wallet belonged to your brother. Took it right out of his pocket.” Josh looked smug. “Good thing it was deep, or the money woulda been bloodied, and no one takes bloodied money from you.”

Of course it was deep. It was Adam’s favourite wallet, one that he always carried with his own money, while Ponderosa money was tucked away in a newer one. The wallet right at Hoss’ feet was old and not the most elegant thing in the world, but to Adam it had immense value, and for that reason, it also did to Hoss.

It took him many hours to figure out how to best sew the leather up for a solid wallet, and one that wouldn’t take too much place in the pocket or stick out like a sore thumb. It took many more to figure how to press the initials onto the precious item without damaging the leather, and to prepare the small iron with initials. The letters were straight and simple. He’s been afraid to choose an elaborate design. The simple one had been clumsy enough.

It was Adam’s eighteen’s birthday. Soon he would be off to the faraway Boston for long years. Hoss noticed his older brother looking a wallet over in Mr Johnson’s shop, and when he asked, Adam explained he needed a new, solid one for his trip.

The item was far too costly for the boy, and soon disappeared from the window shop, anyway. So Hoss had laboured over something that just might be of use to his brother. When finished, he almost threw it away in frustration. It was simple, nowhere near the elegance of the design and softness of the leather of the one in the shop. Yet he had nothing else to offer.

It was with trembling hands and a quickly beating heart that he waited for Adam to open his presents. The package from their father went first – and it contained the wallet from the shop! His heart dropped. Then Adam opened Joe’s gift – a drawing prepared with almost more care than the six-year-old could muster – and reached for Hoss’. Upon opening, he turned the item over and over, fingered the initials, then looked at his brother is something close to amazement.

“You made it yourself?”

“Yup.”

Adam fingered the wallet and smiled slowly.

“Now ya got two wallets, ya need more money to put in’em,” Joe piped up, making Adam and Ben laugh out loud.

“You can exchange them, son,” suggested their father, quite aware of the hard work behind the simple form, and hating to see Hoss’ usual enthusiasm dampened.

“Nah.” Adam tossed Hoss’ wallet up and caught it deftly. “With all due respect, Pa – I think your wallet is gonna be more for the people to see.”

Hoss slumped in his seat, and started when a friendly hand landed on his shoulder, as Adam finished, “... and Hoss’ one is for me alone.”

At some later time, Adam had mentioned how much he liked the simplicity of the item, and how it made it look elegant. Hoss never replied to the casual remark, but he treasured the memory immensely. It had built his confidence in his handiwork for many years to come.

True to his word, Adam kept the wallet for himself. The ones “for people to see” he changed as they grew used. That one he always had with him, deep in one of his pockets.

Like on this trip to San Francisco. Josh could easily stretch the truth – Hoss had heard enough to judge that – but this one thing Adam would not have given away willingly, or even mentioned. Robbers were usually satisfied with one wallet. To find this one, he had to have carefully searched Adam’s body.

Josh made a slight face. He had been hoping to rouse a reaction of out their prisoner, but the big man remained unmoved, his face calm and impassive, his gaze unwavering from Josh. This made him nervous, but he shrugged off the feeling. He needed to compose a note for old man Cartwright, then just collect money and leave the body.

In-between the scenes of murdering Josh, Hoss wondered when they’d be found. From what they’d said, it was their first day of “fishing” for easy money. Yet Josh already had five wallets, so they must have done more than one ambush. Judging by the way they left everything scattered over the landscape – the buggy, the bodies – just waiting to be found, he could be free by the evening, or by morning at the latest.

Julie’s face flashed before his eyes, and his heart turned more and more into a stone. Then he saw Adam’s face – his father’s face, upon learning of his death...

Josh Corntley was a dead man.

ania2784

Ciekawa jestem, jak to się dalej rozwinie... i jak się wyjaśni wątek Adama...

AMG

I kolejna nagroda dla wytrwałych...

“And a good day to you, too.” Ben Cartwright shook the offered hand and walked out of the lawyer’s office quite satisfied with the visit. He had managed to get two contracts signed, and couldn’t wait to tell Adam. Of all people, his oldest would judge the success best. Ever more a partner in business, he constantly forced his father into new ventures, albeit indirectly. Although it was difficult to admit it – even to himself – he kept Ben on his toes in business terms, and Ben wasn’t about to be bested. He often resisted being pulled into some new-fangled lanes of ideas by his son, but at least he was aware of them, and if needed, could plunge into them for some new profit.
In one thing they were different. Whereas a new, challenging venture had Ben literally hopping around in enthusiasm, rubbing his hands and speaking louder than usual, often evoking Hop Sing’s complaints and promises to ‘go back to China’, Adam seemed calmer – colder - with each step towards the goal. There was no mistaking the enthusiasm and satisfaction in him, but he celebrated new challenges in a much quieter, more sedate way. Maybe with those two contracts, he would just raise a brow, purse his lips and allow a dimple to show in approval. Maybe he’d offer a dry comment, maybe not. Anyway, Ben would know how to read his son’s face. And he couldn’t wait to see it.

“Thanks, Mike.” He offered a coin to the livery man, and urged Buck to a trot. It was a good day, and he hoped that some of Hop Sing’s delicacies would still be waiting for him by the lake. Certainly Julie would like the place. She seemed a quiet, kind girl, unusued to the bustle of cities and to the gossips of ladies’ circles and associations. He still felt unsure about offering her a room in the ranch house – after all, there were four men in the house, and tongues would quickly be waddling furiously in the city. Yet she was too quiet and unusued to society to have her stay alone in the hotel. Thus he had just invited Mrs Flora to visit. She was one of the best cooks around, and despite being officially declared rivals, she and Hop Sing had been quietly trading recipes for many years – each of them claiming their version of a dish to be better. Mrs Flora would come with her son, an energetic twelve-year-old, who was always eager to visit the ranch and help around. No solution could be more satisfactory, thought Ben, and continued to just enjoy the ride. Wonder how Adam reacts to having his cousin visit? Bet he didn’t even know of her existence, unless the Captain had mentioned her during Adam’s stay in Boston.

Wonder if Hoss left any food for him.

Unbeknownst to Ben, another figure was also heading for the lake. A careful observer would have caught movement of the person’s lips. The individual was muttering something.
“To the boulder and then bushes to the left... To the boulder and then bushes to the left... Around the bushes, head to the lake. To the boulder... Damn it!... Ou... bushes to the left.”

Some loose stones escaped from under the hastily placed shoe, causing the shoe to slip and the figure to cry out in pain with a mumbled profanity. As harsh as it sounded, at least it allowed to let off some steam.

“To the boulder... Oh.” A few seconds were sacrificed for heartfelt panting. “Must be it. Up – and then bushes to the left. Bushes to the left. Around the bushes, head to the lake.”

AMG

Ktoś jeszcze tu wytrwał?... No to w nagrodę:

Upon reaching the site chosen for the picnic, Ben slowed down with a slight frown. There was nothing to be seen, no one to be heard.

Done already?

He walked Buck closer to the lake, wondering. Maybe Hoss wanted to show Julie around. Yet he would have left a message, anything, to let his father know. Just as he was on the verge of dismounting and looking for a sign or message from his son, a movement caught his eye, and he caught his breath in turn.

Surely that bedraggled figure...

He blinked, and Buck moved restlessly against the nervous signals from his rider. Yet the vision did not go away. On the contrary, the shape was approaching him.

The dress, so pretty this morning, was torn, one sleeve hanging by a few threads, the slit in the skirt revealed a missing part of one petticoat at the least... Her face was smeared with blood on one side, and the yellow fabric of the dress bore rusty stains. Who – What have they – How...?

She stopped, panting, ran a sleeve across her face and then her eyes lit up with hope on seeing him. “Uncle Ben? Thank goodness. You have to help me.”