Spookychild’s writings

But a cough and a soft cry interrupted him. Bart stopped abruptly and turned and scrambled back into the cabin. Maria was there, taking her final breaths. She had been watching unable to speak. She knew there was no hope, But she didn’t want to go without one last kiss.

Bart stumbled to her side and fell to her knees, grasping her left hand, tears streaming down his face. “Marie!” he cried, “Marie!” he didn’t know what to say. He knew she had minutes if that. And he had wasted most of them on the asshole who had shot her.

Marie was crying too, soft ,hot burning drops that slipped out of the corner of her eyes. She lifted her right hand, it shook like crazy but she managed to get it up. Bart grabbed it and kissed it.

“Marie, I have so much to say, but now I will never be able to say it.” He said in a desperate tone.

Her mouth twitched in a sad smile. “Bart,” she whispered. “I love you.” She wheeze.

He sobbed and tried to smile, failing miserably, he looked down at her hands, wishing he had brought her a ring. “I love you too, my gorgeous Marie.” And he leaned over her hands into her bosom, sobbing against it.

But Marie knew she was about to go. “Kiss” she gasped with her final breath. Bart lifted his tear stained face he could see the life ebbing away from her gaze. He nodded and closed his eyes and pressed his lips into hers.

Marie saw his last glance and she felt his lips against hers. She closed her eyes and focused on it. Her breathing stopped and her heart pumped its last. Marie’s body shut down. Her last thought was, “if only I could start the day over again, I would have stayed in bed.”

Bart felt her last exhale and the moment her heart stopped beating. He waited, but nothing happened. He pulled back and felt for a pulse. There was none. He gazed at her and all her beauty, but she was gone. He felt numb like he would never feel anything again.

A gasp and gargle interrupted his thoughts. He looked toward the door. Carson. His eyes narrowed.

Bart got to his feet. He walked out of the cabin and stood over the man who was unrecognizable but still living. He narrowed his eyes. Carson’s horse was in a clump of bushes not far away, chewing happily. Beyond stood a few working women watching him, whispered together.

Bart had an idea. He approached the horse. He took the rope off the saddle, brought the horse to Carson’s side, and tied the rope to his ankles. He picked up the revolver, looked inside, noted three bullets remaining. He kept it, turned, rope in hand and mounted the horse.

He clicked his tongue gripped the reigns and began to walk him, attaching the rope to the saddle securely. He glanced back at Carson, and the rope tug on his ankles and his body began to turn, dragging behind them. Bart smirked.