Blackthorne Review X Ep. 52-53

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Blackthorne

Cinemagenics 52-53

Review  Part X

“Thank-you all for the patience & persistence it takes

in trying to keep up with, & fully grasp, the scope of

this poetic cinematic saga. We’re close to a wrap now

on the requested review of the previous episodes. On

the next OLN, I will post the original Cinemagenic 54,

and (smile), we will be current.”--Glenn.

Fifty-One: Intruders--The scene opens at the men’s

campsite, as the fiery morning sun, a few minutes high, 

has blood red shafts still dancing through the ragged

clouds that hug the foothills. Buck is waking up to the

smell of frying bacon, steaming coffee, bubbling white

beans & sourdough biscuits. Johnny, “Good afternoon,

boss--you about ready for some vittles? Buck nodded

as he stood up & stretched. Behind him was the corral

trap. The Appaloosa stood watching him. The pair of

mares were down on folded legs, munching grass. A

jack rabbit burst out of the brush near them. Cheewa

lunged to the chase. jumping over the fire, spilling

some of the coffee. “Besa mi culo, boss, your dog

nearly trampled our fine breakfast.”  Yawning, Buck

said, “He’s just getting after his own meal. I’m sure

sorry he spilled the coffee.”  Both men laughed, then

Johnny became silent, “You need to wake up, my

Buck--looks like we got company.”  Buck, “Can you

tell how many?” Johnny, “More than four.”  Buck,

“Well, fuck me first thing in the morning.” The Eagle

picked up his carbine & jacked a shell into the chamber.

Cheewa returned with blood on his muzzle, and he

stood next to Johnny, a growling black ramrod. A

swirling dust cloud out on the flats began to fill up

with riders. Buck scooped up his black hat & his

heavy gunbelt--pulled his hat down in front & buckled

the gun belt tightly, pistol cartridges in front, & .50

caliber brass shells on the back side. He slipped on

his battle vest with the red shotgun shells poking out

from his heaving chest. He checked the load in his

Colt Thunderer & the sawed off shotgun. He levered

a big shell into the firing chamber of his Sharps, and

leaned it up on the edge of his fancy saddle. Johnny,

“I count cinco culeros riding down on us out of the

darkness--a pack of pendejos.” The Appaloosa stood

as a dappled statue. The mares were on their feet 

with the red sun blinking through their scanty manes.

The riders approached out of the sun in the East. 

When they were two hundred yards away, strung out in

a Cavalry picket line, Buck asked, “Who is it? Can you

tell yet?”  Johnny, “It’s Cash Bronson”. 

Fifty-Three; Red Riders--The riders emerge over the rim

with swirling dust rolling over them. Buck & Johnny stood

stiff-backed, facing the horde. Johnny, “Cocked & loaded,

boss.”  Buck. “Fucking boy rowdy.” We hear the fire

popping & the dog growling over a slide guitar riff. The 

riders come in at full gallop, the sun rising behind them,

their faces in red shadow. They pulled up hard and fast,

as their horses snorted, nickered & pranced--heaving and

steaming. Johnny recognized all them, his eyes hardening.

Buck thought, “Alright, the honcho in front has to be

Bronson.”  That man sat on a golden palomino. His gear

was Vaquaro-ornate. with wide silver-studded stirrups,

chest halter & skirts. He wore a wide-brimmed white hat

with the sides rolled up perfectly, a stark white shirt--now

dust-smeared, a thick leather string tie pulled through

a silver stallion head bolo, a weathered buckskin vest, 

tight brown denims, and fancy knee-high well-polished

boots--complete with cruel silver spur, the rowels still

spinning. A .44 Smith & Wessen hung on his left hip.

Perfect white buckskin gloves covered his small hands.

He was a big man, nearly as tall as Buck, but heavier.

He was clean shaven & had pasty pale skin, with thick

eyebrows, soot onyx eyes, & a prominent patricians'

nose. On Bronson’s left were three wire-thin jumpy

wranglers--to his right was a very tall lean fellow on

a coal gelding, whose icy green eyes waited for Buck

to notice him. He had a long thin face with dark circles

under his eyes. Buck thought, “Now this piece of work

has to be Thor”.  An awkward minute ambled by, Buck

& Johnny were taunt & ready. Finally someone spoke.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub OLN