Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Guest Post by Ellie: Dancer, Part 3

Dancer rode back towards Green River Station and sighed as he thought of a warm bed and place to sleep for the night. He relished the idea of meeting new people and making new friends. He looked at the horse he was currently riding and patted its neck as it rode through dimming sun. He could see the town just in distance as he rode back. The horse suddenly jerked to a stop and Dancer sighed.

"What's wrong girl?" he asked petting her neck again. He looked over her shoulder to see a baby rattlesnake in the middle of their path freshly bleeding as if it was just caught and released by an eagle. He frowned and got off the horse and walked over the the snake and looked at it from a safe distance.

"You hurt?" he asked it. It squirmed as he talked to it. Dancer looked at the town and then at the snake and growled. He ripped a piece of his shirt off and got closer to the injured snake. It snapped at Dancer and he pulled back. "Now that's not very nice," Dancer looked at the snake and got a little closer and let the snake snap at him again this time hitting its mark, Dancer's wrist.

"Verdammt!" Dancer yelled he bit his lip and held back a cry of pain. The snake let go and dropped the short distance into Dancer's lap as he sat backwards. He quickly wrapped the piece of cloth around the snake gently and then ripped his shirt again and wrapped it above the bite on his wrist and tied it tightly. He then placed his mouth around the bite and sucked and spit our the blood from his mouth. After awhile of this he stopped and let it to continue to bleed and looked at the snake.

"You caused me some trouble," Dancer growled at it. "That mean I get to pick your name," he added. He thought for a moment and looked at it. "Diabalo," he smiled weakly. He took off his hat and carefully placed the snake inside the hat and then mounted the horse again. He let the snake ride in his hat and rode off to the station.

"Well this was one hell of a first run," Dancer muttered to himself. Blood slowly dripped down his hand onto the ground a small trail left behind him. He whipped sweat away from his forehed and when he got to the station he smiled dismounted and passed out.

© 2009 Ellie and The Five Dollar Mail

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Lily by Diego Candia

Isn't she sweet? Love this girl. Love her.

Diego is amazing. This is another one of those "Oh, my gosh, Diego, don't change anything" type pictures. I swear the man can see inside my head.

Anyways, here is your second piece of artwork for the month. Merry Christmas, or whatever you celebrate. Saint says Buon Natale to you. He says he hopes La Befana brings you lots of loot.

Have part three of Ellie's story on the way, as well as a regular post later this week. Stay tuned.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Guest Post by Ellie: Dancer, Part 2

Dancer rode silently in the dark of night towards the warm glow of a candle in the window of a station. He yawned and looked behind him to see the mochila still behind him. He smiled widely at how easily he got the job and was set on keeping the job. He ran over the three don'ts out loud.

"No cussing, no fighting, no drinking," he said aloud as he rode up to the station. "No drinking," he repeated. "No... drinking," he said again this time a bit slower. "Dang, why the heck no drinking?" he asked aloud. He dismounted the horse and yawned again and walked to the door of the station and knocked on the door. A man answered the door and looked at Dancer.

"You must be the runner," the man mumbled and looked over his shoulder. "Are you planning on staying the night?" he asked. Dancer nodded.

"If you don't mind sir," Dancer smiled. The man nodded and took the mochila off the horse and set it by the door and took the horse.

"You can have the cot in the corner," he pointed the cot. Dancer nodded and walked over to the cot and looked at it and took off his hat and tossed it to the side and slumped on the cot and fell to sleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

The next morning Dancer woke up to the sounds of a busy town. He got up, grabbed his hat, and walked over to the man he had seen the night he arrived and looked at him.

"Good afternoon, you slept like a horse. Sorry boy, fresh our of horses, except for the one you had last night, she'll be ready in tomorrow though, so if you want to you can stay here again," he offered.

"Sure," Dancer answered. "I would enjoy that, a bar anywhere close?" he asked.

"Yeah, four doors down, can't miss it," the man answered. Dancer nodded and walked out of the station and walked down to the bar. He walked in and checked his pockets to see two dollars. He shrugged and then looked around and to see men playing poker, women tending drinks and even some men chasing after the women. The fresh smell of liquor hit Dancer's nose and he smiled and walked over to the bar and saw two men looking at him.

"What are you looking at?" Dancer demanded.

"Aren't you a little small to have a drink?" one of the men asked. Dancer laughed.

"I bet I could out drink you," he smiled. The two men laughed at this and looked at him.

"I'll tell you what, you out drink me and I pay for the all of it, if you loose you pay," the other man said. Dancer laughed and looked at them.

"I'd be happy to take the bet," Dancer grinned at them. "Bartender," Dancer called. "Two whiskey shots," he ordered. "And please keep them coming," he added. The bartender looked at the two men and nodded. He shrugged and pasted Dancer and the man each a shot. They each guzzled it down. This continued and a crowed had slowly began to form around them.

"Keep it up Carson!" the man yelled to his friend at they both finished their tenth shot. Carson have a small hick-up and Dancer laughed.

"Getting ready to pass out?" Dancer asked. Carson growled at him and waved for more. Two more shots came. Dancer looked at it and smiled wickedly and swung his head back and tossed it down his mouth. Carson glared and looked at the shot in his shaking hand and tossed it down as well. Dancer smiled and waved for more. Carson took the next shot and dropped it passing out. Dancer laughed and took the last shot. "I think this means you pay," he added to the other man. "Hope your friend can pay you back," Dancer got up from the bar and turned around seeming not hazed at all and walked out back to the station humming happily. He walked into though the door and beamed at the man. "Hey, howareya?" he asked his words drawling together.

"Are you drunk?" the man asked. "I was wondering what you were doing but getting drunk?" he asked. He walked over to Dancer and sniffed his breath. "How can you still be walking?"

"I'm German," Dancer sang happily. "I can do anything!" he shouted punching a fist in the air and loosing balance on his feet. The man caught him. "I'm Dancer by the way!" he added happily.

"I am Hank," Hank answered. "I think you should go sleep this off," Dancer looked at him and pouted.

"Whaareeya?" Dancer's words slid together as he spoke. "Mymaaaa?" he drawled hick-uping. Hank pushed the drunk in the cot and Dancer smiled lazily again and passed out.

Dancer woke up the next morning the a pounding headache. He moaned and slowly sat up and looked around. "Damn, I drank," he muttered.

"How are you feeling?" Hank asked. Dancer looked up at him.

"I feel like Hell," Dancer grunted back. "Ugg, I drank too much," he added.

"What the hell did you do?" Hank asked.

"I bet I could drink more then some idiot at the bar, I can take in liquor but it takes its toll after about ten minutes I stop drinking, while I am drinking I am fine," Dancer added. "Ugg, I need to get back to Green River's Station," he added standing up and tripping over his feet. "Do you have a horse?" Hank nodded.

"Yeah, I do, just be careful," Hank added.

"Yeah, the fresh air will do me some good though," Dancer answered. He stumbled out of the station and mounted his horse groaning. "Thanks for putting up with me last night Hank," Dancer added turning to Hank before he left. Hank nodded and Dancer rode off towards the direction of Green River's Station. "Well, broke one promise, oh well, they won't have to know," Dancer thought aloud.

© 2009 Ellie S. and The Five Dollar Mail

Lights The Storm by Diego Candia

Another amazing portrait by Diego Candia. I just love this, for reasons that are probably fairly obvious.

In fact, when Diego first sent it to me, and I first saw it, I nearly snoogied coffee all over my computer screen.

So, I hope you all like it as much as I did, but remember: coffee hurts when it gets forcibly ejected through your nose.

I decided to have a little fun with the fact, if you go back Diego's Saint pic, I added some text to his background, too. Gonna do that with all of them.

I have other pics waiting in the que, so I asked Ellie, who at the time I had online talking about ideas for her guest post, who she wanted to see this month. She correctly pointed out that since it was Christmas, you all needed a Christmas Bonus.

I usually dole out one piece of art per month, if even that, but this month you will be getting two of them. Hopefully in addition to regular posts and some guest posts. In fact, I hve a chapter for you this week, I'm just not done with it. I sit on it a few days, tinker with it, fix typos, fix grammar, etc. until I am satisfied with it. Not ready yet, but check back, it will be in a couple days at the most.

Hope you're all having a nice month, however you enjoy it.

Thanks again, Diego!

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Guest Post: Dirty Revenge by Evelyn

This is a post by Evelyn, a reader. I have to say, I laughed out loud several times when I read it! Thanks, Evelyn, hope to hear more from you. I really enjoyed this a lot.


“Luis!” An angry bellow shattered the early morning calm, startling Lily enough to drop the iron-cast pan she was holding onto the kitchen floor with a high pitched metallic ringing. A door slammed somewhere upstairs, shaking the whole house enough to feel it through the frame of the station. Fiona smothered a laugh at Lily’s expression, shaking her head wordlessly.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, giving only a moment's warning before Saint himself stomped into the kitchen. His black hair was messy and knotted- the clear results of a restless night’s sleep. His hands were fisted in their fury, and Lily couldn’t help but worry a little for the younger man’s health. Saint’s dark eyes swept the room in an unusually sharp fashion for so early in the morning.

At the table, Wash was having as much more trouble concealing his amusement as Fiona was, though Wash was noticeably less concerned for his own safety.

“Mr. Bari?” Lily ventured, gray eyes wide behind her glasses.

“Ye’ know lad, whatever the kid did, ye’ have to give ‘im credit. I haven’t seen ye’ this awake, this early without coffee in a good long while,” Wash chuckled.

“I had coffee,” Saint hissed. “If you can call it that. Have either of you three ladies seen the brutto cagna?” Wash winced at Saint’s comment, but otherwise ignored it and took a long sip from his coffee.

“I’m sure he heard you coming a couple of miles away, Mr. Saint,” Fiona grinned, not bothering to hide her amusement any further. Wash guffawed behind her as Saint grimaced. “He left not ten minutes ago.”

“Damn coward,” Saint grumbled, his shoulders slumping. He eased his frame into the closest chair, letting his head fall back as he groaned.

“What did he do?” Lily asked, half afraid he would go into another rage again. Saint glanced up at her through still-sleepy eyes and frowned, but sighed and reached across the table for a biscuit.

“I woke up this morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Delicious- just the way I like it, with a hint of vanilla,” Saint started, talking between bites out of the biscuit. “I looked around and on the floor was a cup of the stuff. At first I thought it was from Lily because she was the only other person who’d seen how exhausted I was after last night- no, nothing like that,” Saint growled, glaring at Wash’s raised eyebrow and dirty grin.

“Jesse would have killed me. Anyway, so I basically just drank the whole thing down like you would a shot without tasting any of it at first. I looked down to the bottom of the damn thing when I was done, expectin’ to see grounds, but instead there was dirt. Who the hell else would pull something like that if not Luis? I can’t think of anyone else who has the guts or the motive to make my coffee with dirt instead of beans.”

“...He gave you dirt? And you drank it?” Wash broke the silence, his face torn between amusement, disbelief, and disgust. “We all knew ye’d drink just about anything strong, but dirt?” Wash snorted, shaking his head with a disbelieving grin. “That’s disgusting lad. An’ you complain about my coffee...” He laughed again, and drained his own cup. “Ms. Lily? Another’ cup if ye’d please,” the Irishman motioned to the empty coffee mug.

Lily sniffed, attempting poorly to hide her own malicious grin. “Funny. After that little speech you just gave Mr. Bari, I would’ve thought you’d have wanted nothing to do with it.”

~Evelyn - dirty coffee’s gross. ;p

© 2009 Evelyn and The Five Dollar Mail

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Guest Post by Ellie: Dancer

Much to my amazed delight, there has been some interest in readers wanting to contribute their own take on the Five Dollar Mail. I am happy (read: ecstatic)to read other people's interpretations, and share them with you all. I think it's cool as hell, and ever since Bill wrote that guest post Texas Draw, I've been sort of wishing to get some more guest posts. I am of a mind that stories are best shared.

And it blows my mind that someone wants to share back some part of my story with me. Here we have a guest post by Ellie, who is a student.

Thanks, Ellie. You really have made me smile. Hope to hear more from you.


A young teenager no more then seventeen walked into the Green River Station as Lynch and Bender were talking about the mail. Bender stopped talking and turned to look at the boy. He was small, about five one and had bleach blond hair and coal-gray, sparkling eyes. His skin, however, was a dark tan and he wore tattered roper jeans, a soft dirty white shirt. A cowboy hat was seen around his neck. Lynch as well took in the boys looks.

"Can I send some mail for you?" Lynch asked the book shook his head.

"No, I would like to send it," he answered smiling broadly. "I would like to make myself of service to you," he added.

"Well, what is your name, boy?" Lynch asked.

"Horse Dancer Cuyler," the boy answered. "Dancer is good, though." he added.

"Dancer... are you Indian?" Bender asked, cutting in.

"Half, my father is an Indian and my mother is German. I grew up with her, though, my father left us. But hey, I am not here for my life story. I want to be a rider,"

"A rider? Can you ride is the question?" Lynch asked. Dancer rolled his gray eyes and laughed.

"My name is Horse Dancer for a reason, I don't just have a nice name," Dancer answered. "I can ride, I am willing to risk death daily, and I am orphan," he added.

"So why do this job?" Bender asked.

"Because I want to do something exciting," Dancer answered back.

"You have some spirit, boy." Lynch responded chuckling. "So, if you got the job, you'd move into the bunkhouse, right?" he asked.

"Well..." Dancer grew a bit silent. "I don't really have anywhere else to go... but..." Dancer paused and smiled again. "I would love to. I can meet all the boys that way!" Dancer added. "But why don't you test me out first? Send me on a run," he insisted.

"Well..." Lynch thought. "I could, Jesse is out on one. I had one for Luis, but I could give it to you, there aren't any army documents in it... Bender what do you think?"

"Not me who's hiring," Bender answered.

"I can take it, no problem, I studied the routes before I came here, I even rode them some. I can do it!" Dancer smiled. Lynch nodded.

"Okay, Bender, saddle him up," Lynch smiled. Dancer jumped in the air whooping and yelling in victory.

"Ja!" he yelled in German.

"Oh, another thing, no cussing, no drinking, and no fighting," Lynch added. Dancer nodded.

"No problem, boss," Dancer smiled. "I can promise to that!"

After a while Dancer was off with the mochila and Lynch turned to Bender.

"What do you think of the boy?" he asked. Bender shrugged.

"Arrogant, and something mysterious about him, but other then that I'd say he's a fine rider," Bender answered. I bet he'll raise hell with the boys back at the bunkhouse.

© 2009 Ellie S. and The Five Dollar Mail