Stories: Alias Smith and Jones

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A series of challenges, written as a continuous story, using the given monthly title - a challenge in itself!

Beating the Odds

The beat of their hearts echoed the rhythmic drumming of the horses’ hooves, as they pounded the dry, cracked ground. Clouds of dust rose into the air behind them, floating upwards, hanging for a moment, until they had passed, before descending and settling once more, showing the route...
by Lana Coombe - Comments: 5 - Views: 1266


A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!

Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse.

*** *** ***

“Will you just leave it,” Kid Curry growled at his stubborn partner.

“But I’m so close, Kid. If I can just …”

“Yeah, and the posse is gettin’ pretty close too. Face it, Heyes, you’re just gonna have to let this one go.”

Heyes stretched his arm downwards, wriggling his long slender...
by Lana Coombe - Comments: 0 - Views: 519

These Foolish Things

Standing on tiptoes and reaching up, she extended herself to full height and lifted her arms.  Using her fingertips she was able to manoeuvre the hatbox to the edge of the top of the wardrobe and slide it off far enough so that it dropped down, into her waiting grasp.

Carrying it over to the bed she twisted off the tight fitting lid and peered inside.  Nestled inside lay moments of her life.  Letting out a sigh she allowed a soft smile to crease her lips.  Almost tentatively she reached into the box and lifted out the item, which lay on...
by Lana Coombe - Comments: 0 - Views: 476


The tall, dark man sat easily in the saddle and rode towards his destination, at a steady pace.  He was in no real rush to get there but the sooner he did, the sooner it would be over.

The jagged forms of the buildings rose on the horizon in an eruption of mismatched shapes.  He reined his horse in for a moment to take in the view of the town where it would all end.   Taking a few breaths, to steady himself, he heeled his horse forward once more.

As he drew closer he noticed a small, fenced enclosure. The pointed, white, painted struts, which...
by Lana Coombe - Comments: 0 - Views: 555

Defensive Position

It was a stance he knew so well.  He had lost count of the number of times he had witnessed it but it never got easier.  Each time he went through the same emotions – anger, frustration, pride - to down right scared.

He knew the signs.  There was a glacial glaze in the eye, set in a poker straight face, the conciliatory, cool words and the feigned calmness.  When things went further and there was no option, he would watch as his partner assumed the position, arms hanging loosely at his side, fingers flexed, hovering near the butt of the...
by Lana Coombe - Comments: 0 - Views: 421

Giving up

The ping of yet another ricocheting bullet caused Kid Curry to duck even lower beneath the window frame.  Pressing his back against the wall, he looked across at his partner, who crouched below one of the other windows of the cabin in which they had taken refuge. The dark intensity of Heyes’ eyes told the Kid he was thinking hard – real hard.

“How many?” he asked.

“Too many to count.”

“Too many then?” Heyes countered.

The Kid responded with a tight-lipped grimace. Checking the chamber of his Colt, he slipped...
by Lana Coombe - Comments: 0 - Views: 427

Running the tip of his thumb over its warm, smooth surface, he marvelled in its compact simplicity. In his hand he held a life – one not fully formed but the start of one, none the less.  Rolling it over, it came to rest comfortably in the curve of his palm and he held it there for a moment.  Such a simple object - but one which brought with it a heap of memories.

Those happy carefree days of his childhood, when collecting the eggs from the chicken coop was one of his...
by Lana Coombe - Comments: 0 - Views: 473
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