All characters engaging in sexual activities are 18 years of age or older.
Any grammar or spelling mistakes are of my own doing.
This story was written for the
750 Word Project 2024
.
*
Arthur needed some time to himself. In the last few days, he'd saved John from certain death after he'd been attacked by wolves and trapped on a mountainside. He had killed two deer, thus saving everyone in camp from starving to death. He'd also led the attack on an O'Driscoll camp. Luckily, there were no casualties on their end, though he'd caught a bullet fragment in his forehead from a ricochet, while hiding behind a broken down wagon in the shootout.
They'd been holed up in this abandoned mining town for a bit now. It was bitterly cold, despite the fact that the temperature had increased, and the wind was howling, but at least the snow had finally stopped. He didn't mind snow, but not this much and all at once.
Charles, Javier, Bill, Lenny, and Micah were staying in a bunkhouse. All the women, along with Uncle, Swanson, Jack, and the injured John, where staying in a mess hall. Dutch, Molly, Hosea, and he, were staying in a cabin next to the boys and across from everyone else.
Dutch and Hosea were constantly bickering about whether or not they should rob a train and that they were no longer heading west.
Arthur went into the stables next to the cooking station where Pearson resided. He'd cleared a spot, dug a four inch hole in the dirt, put a few tin watering cans behind the hole, gathered some broken boards and built a small fire. The gaps in the wall was drawing the smoke outside, and it had gotten fairly warm in his small area.
