Sure is quiet around here.

[Joyce (AnnieLee)]

Annie, when CJ makes mince meat outta him, gather it up and I'll make ya a pie.

Ohhhhh... I like pie.

<Looks at the note in her hand>

I dunno, Bill, what'd you do to get Calam so riled at you? Thank you for saying "please", though.



AnnieLee

[Trinity]

Thanks loads, Delmonico.  Remind me to chop you up into steaks!

I don't know pard... that's likely to be a mighty tough and chewy steak!   ...full of gristle, you know.

[gophergrease]

Just remember grumpy old cooks have the bigest knifes

[Four-Eyed Buck]

The bigger the knife, the grumpier the cook..........Buck

[Lucky Irish Tom]

The bigger the knife, the grumpier the cook..........Buck

And the more everyone stays clear of em!

[Bushwack Bill]

To;  AnnieLee

Well, If ya look over in the SASS Wire Saloon, under "Ambush on the Trail", you'll see what I've done, and then you'll either roll an the floor laughing or pity me.

[Joyce (AnnieLee)]

Bill, I haven't been able to access much of anything over on the SASS Wire for a few days now.




AnnieLee

[Bushwack Bill]

Sounds like you are not the only one that Cant get in there.  40 Rod was Having trouble as well.

Read this and Enjoy.

Ambush on the Trail, A New Story (feel free to jump in)



The weather was dry and hot. The sun shone like a brand new silver dollar stuck in a azure sky devoid of clouds.

Loping along at a leisurely pace, C.J. Canary, wasn't expecting any trouble. She rode along headed for Toostone to conduct business at the general store and to relax in the Saloon to quench her parched throat with some liguid libations and socialize with her pards.

Unbeknowst to her, trouble was waiting for her. As she followed the trail through the hills and along the draw a lone figure sat on top of a rocky outcrop overlooking the trail and drew a bead on her as she loped along.

The scoped, Remington Rolling Block Rifle followed her every move. As she got into range, the gunman adjusted for the speed she was traveling and started to squeeze the trigger.

About that time the shadow of a vulture passed over the trail in front of C.J. and spooked her horse. As the animal stopped and reared it's head back, the rifle fired.

Aiming just ahead of C.J., the sniper had led her based on how fast the horse had been going. The bullet, instead of hitting C.J., hit her horse just below its ear, killing it instantly.

The horse dropped on the spot, throwing C.J. onto the trail. C.J. was stunned, but aware enough to hear and recognize the sound of a rifle and grabbing her Winchester from the scabaord, she took cover behind her dead horse and serched the hills for her asailant.

A second round from the Remington blew pieces of wood and leather from her saddle, convincing C.J. that it was time to seek more substantial cover befor her would be killer found his target.

Bolting for cover behind a boulder on the side of the trail, C.J was glad that she remembered her canteen and hunkered down as another round ricocheted off the boulder and went singing off into the distance.

Up on the hill Bushwack Bill, cussed as he reloaded and searched for some part of C.J. that he could shoot at. He had been cautious up to this point, but was running out of patience. He had been paid a considerable sum of money to put C.J. out to pasture, permanently. Looking through the scope he saw that C.J.'s boot was sticking out from the side of the boulder. Taking his time he drew a bead on the heel and slowly squeezed the trigger. The Remington bucked against his shoulder and the 500 grain slug tore the heel off the boot and kicked C.J.'s leg out and caused her to pitch head first into the boulder. He could hear her cuss a blue streak as she popped up from behind the boulder and began to spray lead in his general direction.

With bullets bouncing all around, Bushwack decided to take up a new position that afforded a different view of his target.

C.J. was furious. One, she didn't know who was shooting at her, and two, the low down skunk not only killed her favorite horse, but ruined her brand new, mail ordered boot. Whoever was up there was going to die, and die slowly.

Settling into his new position, Bushwack could just make out C.J.'s hat as she peered over the boulder trying to get a glimpse of her asailant. Drawing a bead on the boulder's edge, Bushwack fired another round and the ricocheting slug took her hat off her head and left a nice big hole through it.

C.J. practically hugged the boulder trying to get away from the next round that kicked up dust and rock fragmants. She looked at her hat, now laying on the ground next to her and cussed about the hole in it.

Bushwack was not in any hurry now. They were to far in the hills to be heard by anyone so he began to wait her out. He had shade, she didn't. Soon she'd have to make a mistake and then, he have her.

Time passed and Bushwack began to take in the area where C.J. was hiding. The big saguaro cactus that stood behind C.J.'s boulder could provide her some shade soon. Opening his haversack he pulled out a box of .45/70 rounds. These were special rounds that he had made up back when he had been hunting Indians for the Army. The big 500 grain bullets had a hole drilled in their noses to allow a .32 rimfire cartridge to be inserted. The .32's had their lead bullet pulled and had been filled with FFFg powder and compressed into a solid mass. Now the rifle cartridges were like minature artillery rounds. Slipping one into the chamber of his Remington, Bushwack drew a bead on the cactus.

The Remington belched fire and smoke and the round hit the saguaro dead center of the trunk and just under the arm like branches. The explosion of the warhead sent a shockwave through the trunk causing it to separate and fall forward right on C.J.

C.J. screamed like a wildcat with its tail caught in a trap as the weight of the cactus hit her back and neck pushing the sharp spines into her skin. Cussing and yelling threats she managed to get out from underneath the heavy plant and push it away from her.

Bushwack was laughing to hard to take advantage of her exposure to him as she pushed the cactus away from her hiding place. C.J. quickly ducked behind the boulder again and started to pull what spines she could get to out of her neck and back. She could feel the blood ooze from the puncture wounds and the tingling as they began to form welts. She began to wish she had that bottle of wiskey she left in her saddle bags. It would have helped bring the swelling down and act as an antiseptic.

Grabbing her Winchester, she again fired wildly in the direction of where she thought her attacker was. and sprinted toward the dead horse, only to be turned back by a volly from the hidden asailant.

Putting down the '66, Bushwack picked up the Remington and scanned the area for his target. Not seeing any of her to shoot at, he began to scope out her dead horse. Picking out her saddlebag he noticed a bulge and a couple of what appeared to be red sticks poking through the flap. "Dynamite!" he thought. Puting another one of his exploding rounds in the chamber of the Remington, he laid the crosshairs of his scope on the center on the bulge and squeezed off a round.

He was instantly rewarded by a thunderous blast that rocked the canyon. The concussion knocked the wind out of C.J., who wasn't expecting it and even Bushwack felt the shock wave as it reverberated off the rock walls, shaking dust and debris in small rock slides down to the floor below.

A blackened crater was all that was left of C.J.'s horse and possessions. Parts of the horse rained back down on her and the smell of nitro and burned meat hung in the air as a grim reminder that she was in grave peril.

As the afternoon wore on by toward evening, Bushwack sneaked up to where he had his horse tied and hobbled. Returning his rifles to their respective scabbards, he unhobbled and untied his horse and rode off in the direction of Toostone. Thinking that the cold desert night and tomorrow's heat would do in C.J. And if it didn't, there was always the next time. His benefactor gave him plenty of time to finish her off. If nothing else, C.J. Canary would be pretty rattled by the time she back to Toostone, if the desert critters didn't finish her off first.



This post has been edited by Bushwack Bill: Jun 24 2005, 03:36 PM

[Four-Eyed Buck]

Choke,choke,choke! Man, look at all this dust :PWhere'd everybody go?.................Buck

[Joyce (AnnieLee)]

I think it's time to get out the broom, Buck, the folks have gone to their respective homes to roost!

AnnieLee

[Bushwack Bill]

 Oh come on!!  It ain't all that bad.  Why is everybody so afraid of ol' C.J.?

(NO GUTS! NO GLORY  )

Bushwack made it back to Toostone late that evening. Putting up his horse at the livery and heading for the hotel, he went to his room and ran a few patches through his rifles. After cleaning them and preparing them for any action that he might get involved in, he stuck them in the closet and grabbed his 12 gage side by side.

Walking over to the Saloon, he found a seat in the back and ordered a steak and a cold beer. Sitting back waiting for his meal, Bushwack took in the patrons and where they were. Keeping his back to the wall he blended in to the dark corner and kept his scattergun close by.

He wasn't sure that his benefactor would show up to find out what had happened earlier that day, and he didn't care at the moment. What was done, was done. He had danced the dirge now he had to pay the piper.

Soon his meal came. Flipping the girl a five dollar gold piece he waved her off. Cutting into the steak he began to eat. Chewing slowly, savoring the taste of the meat he kept alert to what was going on.

Ridgetop Rich was involved in a chess game with Sandcreek Kid and was too intent on the game to notice him in the corner.

J. Mark Flint was playing poker with Tex Hewit and D.Deadshot, and it looked like he was winning.

Grapeshot and Marshal Rusty Bore were making their rounds, making sure that the townsfolk and soldiers were behaving themselves.

Yeah, it was a typical night, the only thing missing was Sgt Drydock and Patches McDuff and their nightly drinking contests. Alpo sure had had his hands full with those two.

Finishing off his meal, Bushwack picked up his shotgun, put on his hat and snuck out the back door.

As he walked down the alley, past the livery, he heard a voice call to him. Instantly he was in a crouch, shotgun leveled at the open door of the livery.

"Whoa, stud. Keep your finger off those triggers." the disembodied voice said from the darkened doorway.

"I expected you inside the Saloon." Bushwack said as he recognized the voice.

"We don't need to be seen together, yet. Is the cantanerous bat dead?" the voice asked.

"Not yet. I left her out in the canyon without a horse and little to no water. I doubt that she'll make it back here before dusk tomorrow, if at all." Bushwack replied.

"Don't under estimate her. To many corpses did, and are now rotting under boot hill." continued the voice from the doorway.

"I'm tired, we can continue this conversation tomorrow, after I get a bath and shave." Bushwack said as he backed away from the livery and down the alley.

"Just remember our agreement!" the voice warned as Bushwack faded into the gloom of the night.

"Don't worry. You just remember, if I go down, so do you." Bushwack replied as he picked up his pace and headed back to the hotel.

Sleep was going to be hard to come by tonight.

[litl rooster]

Jeeze that's as long as In To The West....


OK explain to me again why West Point made cannons for Jimmy Buffett fans

[Forty Rod]

WHY is everyone afraid?

Because she'll kill you, tan your hide for light-work leather, and feed your jerked meat to her dogs. 

Don't know what she'll do with your bones, but she don'r spend much on fertilizer for her roses or char for her case hardening.

[Joyce (AnnieLee)]

I'm not afraid of Calam, she and I go back aways. And that's just a small part of the reason I'm not giving back the front stuffer grenade launcher.



AnnieLee(It's MINE!)

[litl rooster]

pssst.......... Annie, you interested in a case of surplus grenades?

[Joyce (AnnieLee)]

pssst.......... Annie, you interested in a case of surplus grenades?

<nod nod nod>



AnnieLee

[Silver Creek Slim]

Don't be givin' her dem grenades. She might blast holes in the roof. 

Slim

[Grapeshot]

Now, Now.  We all know that Calamity has a sense of Humor.  I'm sure she was LHAO when she first saw that post and came in having to keep in character.  All of us know that all these role playing games are exercises to keep our thinking and comunicative skills sharp and allow our imaginations run rampart.

Bushwack can't help himself, he just has an overactive imagination.

[Joyce (AnnieLee)]

Role playing, who's role playing?

<Takes a surplus grenade with a nod of thanks to Litl Rooster, stuffs it down the front of the launcher>

ROLE PLAYING??

HA!

*******BOOOOOMMMM********

Silly rabbit, ain't no role playing here.

[Delmonico]

I 'gree with Annie, who's role playin'?  Sounds like some folks round here ain't all that serious.  I think a good dose of castor oil would do them some good.