Finnie
Finnie
- Lorraine Danforth - 20 -
Lorraine is 5'5", with a slim but soft build, without much muscle. She has wide blue eyes and long blonde hair she usually keeps clipped up at the sides with pins, the rest falling down her back. She dresses simply, usually with an apron on so she can help around her father's general store.
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Lorraine hummed quietly in her head as drove her small wagon through the fields of brownish green. The horse ahead of her moved at it's usual slow-but-steady rate, and she didn't bother trying to speed the old thing up. He was set in his ways, father always said. She couldn't slow him or make him go faster. But she had learned his rhythm, and she wasn't in an awful hurry. Today was a pick up day, and as usual she had been sent out for it. She'd rather help out around the shop- it was more interesting than the long trip to the meeting spot and back. But she couldn't say she missed all the people. The old horse was much better company than the chatty mothers, bold cowhands, and smelly drunks that filtered in and out of the store.
Lorraine gave a soft sigh before continuing her humming. She supposed she needed a relaxing ride anyways. Town life was great and all, but it was good to get away. Maybe she could be back in town by late afternoon and meet up with Hattie. It had been a few days since she'd seen her friend, and she was sure they'd have plenty to catch up on. She'd surely have plenty of stories to tell about how her pregnancy was going. Her husband had been absolutely strutting since the news came out. He was prouder than a peacock and showed his wife off any chance he could get. Lorraine knew they'd be a happy little family on their farm. Her friend had been lucky to find the man she did. Lorraine knew she had to find someone soon before she became a regular old maid. But she had seen all kinds of life in the store, and any of the handful of options that had interested her were either married or sums as salt or not interested back. But now wasn't the time to think about such things.
Her mind was brought back to the task at hand as she spotted the large wagon ahead of her. It was carrying supplies of all kinds of supplies. Today she was picking up bullets and gunpowder, guns, fabric, sewing supplies, and some fireworks. The Fourth of July was nearing, so her father always had some stocked in the store. Not much- most people didn't want to spend money on something like fireworks when they had other things to worry about. But father said it wouldn't be patriotic to not at least have some.
Lorraine pulled the horse to a stop, waving at the familiar merchant. "Hey there, Mr. Ulrich!" She greeted.
The older man looked up from where he had been rustling with some items in the back of his cart for a moment adjusting his glasses to look at her. His long face stayed frowning, and he returned to his work. She knew not to expect much of a greeting. The man was about as friendly as a badger. He did his job, and didn't waste his time on anything else.
"Give me the list." He said, holding out his hand. Lorraine did as he asked. He paused to read it for a moment, then stuck it in his pocket. Without a word, he began pulling things off the cart and placing them on the grass. Lorraine then picked up those boxes and carried them over to her cart. She knew the man couldn't be bothered to take them there himself.
Lorraine thought she heard something in the distance, but she didn't really pay it much mind. She had done this job a million times and allowed her mind to drift again.
It wasn't until she heard the pop and zing of a bullet that she looked up.
Three men on horseback were galloping towards them at full speed. They had a wild look in their eyes and were dressed in black and matted fur. Each had guns holstered at their hip- or empty holsters. Another shot rang in the air, burying itself into the ground by her shoe. Outlaws.
She screamed. Bolting back towards her cart, her eyes darted around for anything that might serve as any kind of cover or safety. Nothing. They were in the middle of nowhere, and the only think for a mile was their carts. The crazed men hooted and hollered as they came near, looking even meaner up close. She hid behind her cart, but she knew it wouldn't help her much. The men must have spotted her. Her heart slammed in her chest so hard she was afraid it might burst out of her dress.
Mr. Ulrich stood by his cart, his hands up in the air. For the first time in her life, Lorraine saw an expression on his face other than his usual stern frown. His skin was ghost white, his mouth drawn open as wide as his eyes. The three men pulled their horses to a stop by the wagon. The man in the middle stayed on his horse, and the other two dismounted.
"Weeeell, Howdy doody?" The outlaw still mounted teased with a sneer. Every other tooth in his mouth was either black or rotted out. "I think you've got something of ours on that there wagon."
"I don't want no trouble." Mr. Ulrich insisted, shaking his head. One of the men on foot shoved him roughly to the side to get at the supplies inside. The merchant didn't move a muscle from where he was shoved, though his body was quivering. Lorraine felt her stomach drop to her toes when the second man turned towards her cart. A cat-like smile curled in his lips and he headed towards her.
"Hey, little missie!" He crooned. "You try'na hide, huh?"
Lorraine looked everywhere around her for something- anything she could use as a weapon. There was nothing on the cart. All she had was a small pocket knife in her skirt. It was meant for opening cans and cutting twine, but it was all she had. Knowing she had been spotted, she stood once more, holding out the tiny knife with both hands, as if it could make her look more intimidating. "Don't come any closer!" She shrieked. Her hands were shaking badly.
The men laughed. She tried not to show how it affected her, but the man was still coming nearer.
"You're a fine little thing, ain't ya?" He said. He didn't even bother pulling out his gun, his hand just rested casually on the butt of it. "It's been a while since we've seen a fine lady. What are you hidin' under that pretty skirt, huh? Maybe we should take a look-see..."
Lorraine's lip wobbled. "Stay back!" She hissed, but even as she said it she was inching backwards. The man just laughed. Then fast as lighting he reached out, grabbing hold of both of her wrists in each hand. She screamed, her body panicking all at once to escape her attacker. The knife fell from her hands as he yanked her against him, his other hand wrapping around her and roughly grabbing her behind. Even as she squirmed and kicked and fought with all she had, he held her fast. As if she weighed nothing.
"Help! Please!" She cried, for anyone who would listen. Her eyes shot to where Mr. Ulrich stood, but he was petrified and unmoving.
"Oh, there's no use crying." The man tutted. "No one's out here 'sept us. But if you want, I can really make you scream." He licked his lips, his grip on her tightening. "If I can't manage it, I'm sure my buddies won't mind having their turns, too."
Lorraine is 5'5", with a slim but soft build, without much muscle. She has wide blue eyes and long blonde hair she usually keeps clipped up at the sides with pins, the rest falling down her back. She dresses simply, usually with an apron on so she can help around her father's general store.
-------------
Lorraine hummed quietly in her head as drove her small wagon through the fields of brownish green. The horse ahead of her moved at it's usual slow-but-steady rate, and she didn't bother trying to speed the old thing up. He was set in his ways, father always said. She couldn't slow him or make him go faster. But she had learned his rhythm, and she wasn't in an awful hurry. Today was a pick up day, and as usual she had been sent out for it. She'd rather help out around the shop- it was more interesting than the long trip to the meeting spot and back. But she couldn't say she missed all the people. The old horse was much better company than the chatty mothers, bold cowhands, and smelly drunks that filtered in and out of the store.
Lorraine gave a soft sigh before continuing her humming. She supposed she needed a relaxing ride anyways. Town life was great and all, but it was good to get away. Maybe she could be back in town by late afternoon and meet up with Hattie. It had been a few days since she'd seen her friend, and she was sure they'd have plenty to catch up on. She'd surely have plenty of stories to tell about how her pregnancy was going. Her husband had been absolutely strutting since the news came out. He was prouder than a peacock and showed his wife off any chance he could get. Lorraine knew they'd be a happy little family on their farm. Her friend had been lucky to find the man she did. Lorraine knew she had to find someone soon before she became a regular old maid. But she had seen all kinds of life in the store, and any of the handful of options that had interested her were either married or sums as salt or not interested back. But now wasn't the time to think about such things.
Her mind was brought back to the task at hand as she spotted the large wagon ahead of her. It was carrying supplies of all kinds of supplies. Today she was picking up bullets and gunpowder, guns, fabric, sewing supplies, and some fireworks. The Fourth of July was nearing, so her father always had some stocked in the store. Not much- most people didn't want to spend money on something like fireworks when they had other things to worry about. But father said it wouldn't be patriotic to not at least have some.
Lorraine pulled the horse to a stop, waving at the familiar merchant. "Hey there, Mr. Ulrich!" She greeted.
The older man looked up from where he had been rustling with some items in the back of his cart for a moment adjusting his glasses to look at her. His long face stayed frowning, and he returned to his work. She knew not to expect much of a greeting. The man was about as friendly as a badger. He did his job, and didn't waste his time on anything else.
"Give me the list." He said, holding out his hand. Lorraine did as he asked. He paused to read it for a moment, then stuck it in his pocket. Without a word, he began pulling things off the cart and placing them on the grass. Lorraine then picked up those boxes and carried them over to her cart. She knew the man couldn't be bothered to take them there himself.
Lorraine thought she heard something in the distance, but she didn't really pay it much mind. She had done this job a million times and allowed her mind to drift again.
It wasn't until she heard the pop and zing of a bullet that she looked up.
Three men on horseback were galloping towards them at full speed. They had a wild look in their eyes and were dressed in black and matted fur. Each had guns holstered at their hip- or empty holsters. Another shot rang in the air, burying itself into the ground by her shoe. Outlaws.
She screamed. Bolting back towards her cart, her eyes darted around for anything that might serve as any kind of cover or safety. Nothing. They were in the middle of nowhere, and the only think for a mile was their carts. The crazed men hooted and hollered as they came near, looking even meaner up close. She hid behind her cart, but she knew it wouldn't help her much. The men must have spotted her. Her heart slammed in her chest so hard she was afraid it might burst out of her dress.
Mr. Ulrich stood by his cart, his hands up in the air. For the first time in her life, Lorraine saw an expression on his face other than his usual stern frown. His skin was ghost white, his mouth drawn open as wide as his eyes. The three men pulled their horses to a stop by the wagon. The man in the middle stayed on his horse, and the other two dismounted.
"Weeeell, Howdy doody?" The outlaw still mounted teased with a sneer. Every other tooth in his mouth was either black or rotted out. "I think you've got something of ours on that there wagon."
"I don't want no trouble." Mr. Ulrich insisted, shaking his head. One of the men on foot shoved him roughly to the side to get at the supplies inside. The merchant didn't move a muscle from where he was shoved, though his body was quivering. Lorraine felt her stomach drop to her toes when the second man turned towards her cart. A cat-like smile curled in his lips and he headed towards her.
"Hey, little missie!" He crooned. "You try'na hide, huh?"
Lorraine looked everywhere around her for something- anything she could use as a weapon. There was nothing on the cart. All she had was a small pocket knife in her skirt. It was meant for opening cans and cutting twine, but it was all she had. Knowing she had been spotted, she stood once more, holding out the tiny knife with both hands, as if it could make her look more intimidating. "Don't come any closer!" She shrieked. Her hands were shaking badly.
The men laughed. She tried not to show how it affected her, but the man was still coming nearer.
"You're a fine little thing, ain't ya?" He said. He didn't even bother pulling out his gun, his hand just rested casually on the butt of it. "It's been a while since we've seen a fine lady. What are you hidin' under that pretty skirt, huh? Maybe we should take a look-see..."
Lorraine's lip wobbled. "Stay back!" She hissed, but even as she said it she was inching backwards. The man just laughed. Then fast as lighting he reached out, grabbing hold of both of her wrists in each hand. She screamed, her body panicking all at once to escape her attacker. The knife fell from her hands as he yanked her against him, his other hand wrapping around her and roughly grabbing her behind. Even as she squirmed and kicked and fought with all she had, he held her fast. As if she weighed nothing.
"Help! Please!" She cried, for anyone who would listen. Her eyes shot to where Mr. Ulrich stood, but he was petrified and unmoving.
"Oh, there's no use crying." The man tutted. "No one's out here 'sept us. But if you want, I can really make you scream." He licked his lips, his grip on her tightening. "If I can't manage it, I'm sure my buddies won't mind having their turns, too."