He crosses over the cargo joints toward the passenger cars, ignoring her handily. The vastness of the prairie outside is devastating. Nothing but the idle hissing of the pulled-short engine and Tate’s own tantrum breaks a silent nature fettered beneath long strands of railroad.
The door to the first passenger car judders on its casters as the man struggling to keep Tate’s wrists pinned to her chest slams it open. “Stowaway,” he snaps.
Another man crouched on the floor with his back to them turns a brutal, pockmarked face twisted further into a grimace. “That’s what the bullets are for.”
//
The train is rerouted, and fate altered for good.
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FELLA is a genre-crossing Western about the nature of goodness in America and the miracle of storytelling. Join me here every other Monday for a new chapter of Tate’s twisting fate unfolding.
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