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V. L. Gregory: Posted on Wednesday, May 09, 2012 11:33 PM
Can you see the shadow of the eagles in the picture on the right? AWA'HILI Olikut breathed sharp winter chill while watching Awa'hili swoop down on the deer carcass he'd dragged to the highest cliff. Concealed by darkness and brush, he sings the songs that call the eagles from the sky. Fluid as the waters of Pekitanout (Missouri River), Olikut draws his bow and arrow, piercing the heart of Awa'hili. |
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V. L. Gregory: Posted on Wednesday, May 02, 2012 3:02 PM
 It's considered an eyesore by passersby but they don't know about the stories, whispers or ghosts! I do! \ The elements have broken her down; tumbled her walls; faded her wallpaper flowers; and sagged her roof. They come at dusk, tethering their horses at the rail; clinking spurs as they cross the stoop. Laughter and music float on the evening breeze. I write about them! The bulldozer comes tomorrow to raze the Half-Bit Saloon. "My place is just down the graveled, rutted trail. |
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V.L. Gregory: Posted on Thursday, April 26, 2012 11:52 PM
FENCED OUT? "Bloody Kansas" the drovers call it--some cattle drives go miles out of their way to avoid it. Charley Goodnight and his men eased up on the border of barbed wire running as far as the eye could see. Jayhawkers, heavily armed, stood guard at every crossing. Charley, the best-known rancher in all of Texas, tried old-fashioned reasoning with the vigilantes to no avail. Frustrated, he told the head honcho, "I've monkeyed as long as I want with you. |
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V.L. Gregory: Posted on Thursday, April 12, 2012 12:41 AM
Johnson Canyon railroad camp--a hotbed of unsavory characters, saloons and brothels. James Casey and William Ryan were destined to cross paths in their scramble for the $2.80 daily wage that The Atlantic & Pacific RR paid its drillers. Despite the February chill, their sweat-laden shirts clung to their bodies after hours of clearing mountain rock. Seeking evening respite and to slake their thirst, the men ambled over to the saloon. |
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V.L. Gregory: Posted on Thursday, April 05, 2012 10:58 AM
 STOWAWAY Two months past, Lottie had slipped aboard the steamer,Natchez.She'd eluded the captain by sleeping in crevices of stacked cargo during the day and prowling for food by night. Today, impish emerald eyes peered over stacks of burlap bags filled with staples. Spurred from her hiding place by ghostly shapes along the mist-shrouded shore; she had to warn the passengers--INDIANS! Surreptitiously, Lottie mingled with passengers, drawing the children to the starboard side, disclosing the Indians. |
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V. L. Gregory: Posted on Wednesday, March 28, 2012 4:30 PM
HELD OVER Failing health, at seventy-six, forced "Red" Taggart to think about the "Old Girl." They'd traveled hundreds of miles to more rodeos than he could count. The first one:1960 in Ponca City, Oklahoma. The "rodeo thrill" seeped through his being--needed, like blood in his veins. He'd ridden a spine-cracking Brahma bull, placing just below payout. |
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V. L. Gregory: Posted on Friday, March 23, 2012 1:17 AM
 A'narishkwa' peered through the white-clad birches. Dusk, like a great buffalo robe, settled on the shoulders of the distant ridge. In his vision, they came--Birds of War--from the south; swift and strong with piercing screams. They swarmed his village seeking flesh to quell their appetites. June 25, 1876 |
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V. L. Gregory: Posted on Wednesday, March 14, 2012 3:46 PM
#FridayFictioneer 100-word story:The Cow Who Started A War. A cowdog's life is prett-ty tough. Jackrabbits have more sense than beeves! Oughta know--spendmonthsnipping their heels, keeping them in line. Bessie foraged along; wandering afield. I barked, growled--even pulled her dangling rope to coax her back. Bull-headed bovine refused!--ended smack-dab center of an Indian encampment. Wafting aroma of roasted beef musta caught the pioneers' attention. |
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V. L. Gregory: Posted on Friday, March 09, 2012 3:05 AM
HANNAH'S CELLAR Hannah's cellar was dark and dank; A home of bugs and spiders. Beneath the hornet's nest she stooped Wresting the fear inside her. Morning light faded to ebony Beneath roily, blackened sky. The tin roof whistled from howling winds; A mournful, chilling cry. A roaring as she'd never heard Barreled across sodden terrain. Then,--oppressive, crushing--silence! Deftly, she loosed the chain. Her gaze fell upon ravaged land, |
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V.L. Gregory: Posted on Thursday, March 01, 2012 11:58 PM
 I've substituted Western saddlebag and Gold Nuggets for my take on the "Jewels" picture prompt for Friday Fictioneers by Madison Woods. I hope you enjoy my take with an 1800's twist. Thanks for dropping in. PEGLEG SMITH'S LOST GOLD MINE Pegleg Smith hauled his pelts downriver; then westward through mountain buttes and arroyos to sell in California markets. Skeletons--human driftwood--dotted the Colorado Desert between Yuma and Los Angeles. |
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