“One Hundred Men For Every Dollar”

[J. R. Parks]

Crooked Red fled by way of game trails, hauling bags of Spanish silver. The shabby pony wheezed and stamped, huffing molten breath and marking clumsy steps with bloody hoof prints. The thieves of Corinth would not have them, nor would the starving saints of Scholastica. In haste, Red dared hollow mountains, roving caves of lime that gleamed like Roman coffers. Atop the reach, squinting through gales of whistling sleet, Red met a Hessian in the dark; the embers of his corncob pipe curled in the black. “No guns for hire here; those bags are not enough,” spoke the lonesome Hessian, “You’d need one hundred men for every dollar, if ye think a hundred kills Charlie Wake.”

 

 

[J. R. Parks]

Robert, I'm doin' my best and thanks! I'm trying work in some of those classic, rich motifs -- I like flavor in stuff.

[J. R. Parks]

Thanks folks. Teresa, I appreciate that, wow. I'm sort of using 6S to flesh out ideas -- its a great place to scratch out visuals and concepts.

[Teresa]

Your prose is smooth, tight and full.  That's frickin' hard.  Excellent.

[Robert Crisman]

I like this. You've got Corinth, the starving saints of Scholastica, Hessians, guns for hire--pretty much 2500 years of western hijinks in this mix. It'll be interesting to see where you take it.