Wranglin Rachael

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

Meribeth looked all around the room and did a doubletake when she saw a pencil sketch of her framed in the middle of the wall. She walked up slowly to it and examined it intensely.When was this done? And then she saw the date on it. 1873

"Oh, dear. You've already seen her." came a voice from behind her. Meribeth spun around to face her aunt frantically.

"Who is that?"

"That, my dear, is Wranglin' Rachael Dennison."

Chapter 2 (v.1) - A State of Shock

Submitted: September 05, 2010

Reads: 74

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Submitted: September 05, 2010

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Chapter 1

“Who?” asked Meribeth incredulously. Her eyes were wide and unbelieving. Her aunt sighed and shook her head dramatically.

“She’s your ancestor. And a very famous one at that.”

“But why does she, you know, look like me?” Meribeth was creeped out to the fullest extent.

“Because somewhere along the line a higher power chose you to look like her. But, if you look closer, you can tell that you two are actually very, very different. Go on, look closely.” Her aunt motioned for Meribeth to move closer and after a few moments of hesitation, she did.

It was true, in fact, that Rachael look definitely different than her in the picture. There was a certain hardness set in her jaw that formed a menacing look about her. Also, her eyes held a certain pain that could never be harnessed, but also a piercing calculating tone as if she was sizing you up. There was a small smirk at the corner of her full lips, a smirk of arrogance and of pride. And also there was a small scar on her left cheek of an X. Just one glance at Rachael and you could immediately tell that she was a tough no-nonsense girl.

“How was she famous? She doesn’t look that special, just scary.”

“Let us sit and I shall tell you, my dear.” Aunt Missie led her to the little loveseat and sat down and a bit too closely for Meribeth.

“Your great great, too many times to say, grandmother was an outlaw. One of the most famous in history.”

“But I’ve never heard of her…”

“That is because every man out there was ashamed that a woman, and a young one at that, could best them so they didn’t let the news get very far. However she was the terror to Texas. No one could catch her and when she set her sights on you, she always got you. No one could beat her in knife throwing, she was the best aim that’s ever lived. She could throw a knife without looking 50 yards away and cut the stem off an apple hanging on its tree.”

“Seriously?”

“In all seriousness! Also, she was the fastest drawer ever too. Before you could even blink you were dead, she was that quick. No one ever bested her, except for her father who taught her everything she knew.”

“But, what made into a tomboy? I thought that back then the girls were all ladylike.”

“You see, my dear Meribeth, her father did not have any sons. So he took it upon himself to raise her as his son, so she could take over the family business one day. She was taught to shoot, herd cattle, ride, and everything else needed to be tough and be a man. He never spared her anything. She had to kill the swine and the chickens herself. She had to spend the night out in the mountains watching over the cattle as they moved to new pasture. You see, as a mountain farmer she had to be tough, even as a woman you would have to be.”

“Why?”

“Well the mountains are called the sea on the land. They are unpredictable. One minute they adore you and comfort you, offering you sweet solace. The next, they’re trying to kill you and sweep you off the mountain with wild and fierce storms that come up out of nowhere. You always have to stay alert. And you see Rachael had a bond with the mountains that we would never even begin to understand. She knew the mountains and they knew her. I think that helped her when the sheriff and other cowboys were riding to catch her. She knew the mountains. Every crevice, cave, tree, and stone. She knew them all. And she used their fierceness in her favor.”

Meribeth picked at the green cloth on the little couch. Her mind was completely blank with shock. But there was awe in that emotion too. “How did she get to become an outlaw?” she asked, suddenly curious, “I mean, you aren’t just born one are you?” Missie smiled warmly down at her niece, but then her expression turned grave.

“No my dear, she wasn’t born into this. She became it when she was only 18. You see, she was known as the prettiest girls in town, just like you, with dark skin and dark hair but with piercing icy blue eyes. She was also the town heart-breaker. The boys in the town thought that they could tame the wild, boyish girl, but they were sadly mistaken. Rachael loved to be chased and would make the boys do stupid things just for the fun of it. She vowed to never settle down, to always be free. Well one day, a man rode into town, about in his mid-thirties. Maulin’ Matthew Anderson. He had heard about the beauty of Texas and wanted her. He was a bandit, but a bandit that only wanted the best. And what he wanted, he got sooner or later. Well, he asked the father for her hand, like the nice gentleman, but her father refused having known who he really was. Then, Matthew went to Rachael wanting them to elope, but she also refused. So, in his anger he went down and killed her mother and father and destroyed their home and their livestock.”

Meribeth’s eyes widened in shock and anger, “He didn’t!”

“He did,” replied Missie sadly, “And when Rachael went back to the farm and learned who did this, her pain and anger were unbearable. She then vowed that she would kill any and every man who was in Matthew’s gang. And she would kill anyone that got in her way.”

“But that didn’t mean she was a bandit though, just a vengeful woman.”

“But my dear, anyone who got in her way meant the law which wouldn’t let you murder anyone. So everyday, she would rob trains and banks to feed her men which were the men that would follow her everywhere. She would kill other bandits and even innocent people who had the nerve to stand up against her.”

Missie had actually sounded normal for a while, not in her misty tone that irritated Meribeth to the highest level. Meribeth was in awe of the woman that had been harmed and hurt and violated, but still kept strong in her anger. Aunt Missie leaned over to pick up a piece of wrinkled brown paper on the coffee table and held it up for Meribeth to see. It was a picture of three lines drawn diagonally and the print of lips next to them.

“What is it?” she asked, comfused.

“Her sign. The three lines meant the three things that she lost that day: her parents, her home, and her name. And then the kiss was a print to remind them that she was a woman who could kill a man with no regret. She would make this sign on the cheek of whoever she killed that was important. And she did it in their blood, from the wound that she made in them.”

Meribeth wrinkled her nose at this, and Missie nodded her agreement. Now her voice was soft and misty again. Full of the irritating drama, but instead of being annoyed, Meribeth was mesmerized.

“Let me tell you the story of Wranglin’ Rachael Dennison, my dear.”


© Copyright 2020 Briar Rose1. All rights reserved.

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