{"id":36462,"date":"2021-05-29T22:22:30","date_gmt":"2021-05-30T02:22:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=36462"},"modified":"2025-09-25T15:38:35","modified_gmt":"2025-09-25T19:38:35","slug":"the-pickle-by-annie-k-cowgirl","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=36462","title":{"rendered":"The Pickle (by Annie K Cowgirl)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary: Just how did Hoss end up being the caretaker for two, little, troublemaking\u00a0 girls? The opening scene we were denied in Gallagher’s Sons<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Rating: K+<\/p>\n

Word Count: 1,259<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

When I topped the rise, the last thing I expected to see was a house. Some brave or foolish soul \u2013 I wasn\u2019t quite sure which \u2013 had tried to make a go of it out here in this wasteland. Judging by the state of the place, they hadn\u2019t been very successful. It wasn\u2019t much to look at, hardly more than a one-room shack nestled between a few scraggly looking mesquite trees, but it was a house. And what\u2019s more, somebody was living in it.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A thin wisp of smoke curled from the stone chimney, a sure sign of life, and the familiar scent of bacon tickled my nose. Instantly, my mouth began to water. I\u2019d been living on jerky and stale bread for the past few days, and just the thought of something fresh to eat set my stomach to grumbling.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Maybe they\u2019ll spare a bite for a hungry stranger? <\/i>As tempting as that thought was, what I needed most was water. A man wouldn\u2019t get far in this country without it, and I still had many miles to go before the sun set.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Off to the side near a lean-to that passed for a stable, was a well.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Water.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cC\u2019mon, Chubb,\u201d I murmured, nudging the sorrel gelding down the slope towards the building. It was slow going. The ground was steep and rocky, and my mount had a time of it, but in the end, he made it safely into the yard without incident.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHello to the house!\u201d I called, stopping a ways away from the shack.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Silence followed.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I waited a few minutes more, but no one came out. Shrugging, I slid down from my saddle and made my way over to the well. My fingers had just brushed the handle of the well bucket when a sharp click <\/i>echoed in the morning air.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s far enough,\u201d said a young voice, and I froze. Turning my head, I could see that the door to the house was ajar and sticking out of the opening was the toe of a small, well-worn boot; about two feet above that was the black maw of a sawed-off shotgun.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Cold sweat broke out on my forehead.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t hunting no trouble,\u201d I said, and slowly gestured to the well, \u201cI just stopped to get some water, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The door opened a bit more and a slip of a girl no more than twelve stepped out onto the porch, weapon in hand. She had a face that was all angles, from her high cheekbones to her pointy chin, and she had a pair of the coldest, blue eyes I ever did see. For one so young, she had the look of a schoolmarm about her, but no teacher I\u2019d ever heard tell of wielded a scatter-gun with precision quite like she did. There was no doubt about it, she knew what she was doing. \u201cWell, you can just ride on outta here, saddle-tramp,\u201d she replied, waspishly.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cMissy, my canteen\u2019s dry and this here animal ain\u2019t gonna make it to the next watering hole without something to tide him over,\u201d I said, eyeing that gun. She had steady hands and I knew if I made a wrong move, she\u2019d not think twice about pulling the trigger. \u201cI could pay you for it,\u201d I added.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She frowned. \u201cI don\u2019t want your dirty money. I want you back on your horse. I want you to ride outta here and never come back.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I cast one last longing look at the well. Turning, I carefully made my way back towards Chubb, being mindful to keep my hands far away from my six shooter. I needed some of that water and I needed it in the worst way, but I wasn’t about to risk catching myself a deadly case of lead-poisoning in order to get it.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

So much for hospitality.<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/i> I\u2019d just stuck my foot into the stirrup and was about to mount up when another even smaller girl poked her head out of the doorway.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cCharlie, come quick! It\u2019s pa!\u201d she cried.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The girl with the gun, turned a sickly shade of gray. She bolted into the house.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And like a fool I followed them.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Despite the outward appearance of the shack, the inside was neater than a pin. Everything was in its place: the floors were swept, the fire stoked, and freshly washed dishes lay face-down on a towel-covered table to dry. In the far corner was an iron-framed bedstead. A prone figure of a man lay on the straw-filled mattress, the front of his shirt crusted with dried blood.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cPa?\u201d the gun-toting girl whispered as she gently shook the man\u2019s arm.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

My heart sunk into my boots.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cPa?\u201d she said louder, shaking him rougher than before.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Reaching out, I placed a hand on her shoulder.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Whipping around, she tried to bring the gun up, but I grabbed the barrel, forcing it away from me. \u201cYou!<\/em> Get outta here! Get outta here right now, do you hear?\u201d She was pricklier than a cactus and just as ornery.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cJust settle down, now, I ain\u2019t gonna hurt you none. I was just seeing if you needed help.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWe don\u2019t need your\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The smaller girl latched onto the other\u2019s arm, cutting her off. \u201cCharlie, stop! Maybe…maybe he can help pa get better.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWill!\u201d Charlie hissed, glaring down at her, but then she slowly lowered the gun. She glanced up at me for a long moment before she let out a defeated sigh. \u201cOh, all right, but no funny business.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Stepping around the girls, I neared the bed. One look was all I needed to confirm what I\u2019d suspected. His eyes were open, fixed, staring at nothing.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I said, tugging off my ten-gallon hat, \u201cthere ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 I can do. He\u2019s gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Charlie stared at her father, stone-faced as the little girl beside her began to cry. I couldn\u2019t help but be reminded of that terrible day when my mama died and I\u2019d had to be strong for Little Joe as he\u2019d sobbed in my arms. We had something in common, she and I.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I shook my head. This girl was far too young to have such responsibility laid on her shoulders, but life as I\u2019d learned over the years, was never fair. Parents died and children were left alone to fend for themselves; it happened every day. It was the way of the world.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And as they grieved over their pa, I knew the last thing they\u2019d want was an audience, so I silently slipped out of the house and went looking for a shovel. I doubted those gals would accept any comfort from me, a total stranger, but I could dig their pa a decent grave \u2013 it was the least I could do. After all, the man needed a proper burial.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As I searched through the stable for a spade, it came to me that those girls were now orphans. There didn\u2019t seem to be anybody else around the place: no ma, no uncle, no old cowhand. Nobody.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Except…me<\/i>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The thought brought me up short and I nearly swore. I didn\u2019t want no part of this. I was just passing through, and only my need for water had brought me to this shack to begin with. But I couldn\u2019t just leave those gals out here in the middle of nowhere all alone, could I?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sitting down on a musty bale of hay, I put my head in my hands and swallowed back a groan.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Just what <\/i>sorta pickle <\/i>have I gotten myself into <\/i>now<\/i>?<\/i><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

~ Finis<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Author Notes:<\/p>\n

I wrote this for another writing challenge on Bonanza Boomers called Bonanza Ballads. I was given the song title “I Want You Back<\/em>” by the Jackson 5 and had to write a story based solely on that song title. This is what came to me.<\/p>\n

By the way, I couldn’t come up with anything better as a title for this piece, so if anyone can, let me know. I’m not emotionally attached to this one or anything. LOL!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tags: Charlie Gallagher, Will Gallagher, desert<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary: Just how did Hoss end up being the caretaker for two, little, troublemaking girls? The opening scene we were denied in Gallagher’s Sons.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Rating: K+<\/p>\n

Word Count: 1,259<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":159,"featured_media":2192,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_members_access_role":[],"_members_access_error":""},"categories":[1006,61,616],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-36462","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-hoss-cartwright","category-missing-scene","category-whb","wpcat-1006-id","wpcat-61-id","wpcat-616-id"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/hoss1.jpeg?fit=300%2C168&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/36462","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/159"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=36462"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/36462\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2192"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=36462"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=36462"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=36462"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}