~ Winter Sunrise ~

Historical roleplay between Soul (86803) and Terbus (258691).

All of you know this by now, but please don't post, although you are welcome to read along as we write. If you have a comment, you are welcome to PM me if you want to know something, offer feedback, or talk about this roleplay.

James H. Swift || male || 23 || November 22 ,1866 || Oregon Territory, lost

The wilderness possed an eerie silence James feard more than any hail of bullets. When faced with a physical adversary he could fight back, but here in the numbing cold there was only a lingering helpless. Seven months ago he'd still had friends to depend on, men he'd fought and bleed with, but nothing of that life was left. Just a neatly folded grey uniform hidden beneath his other clothing in Misty's saddlebags and the saber hidden between her blanket and the heavy black cavalry saddle she wore.

She stood a little way from him now, half sheltered beneath a grove massive pine trees. Unlike many horses James had known, his loyal mare would take find a dry spot to stand in rather than wait in the rain. Today, with the tiny drops falling like shards of glass about him, James could hardly blame her for getting out of the wet over staying beside him.

Father told me I'd make them proud and become a doctor, James thought, closing his eyes against the drizzle, instead, after all the schooling they gave me and eighteen months of training, I ran away to war. And now here I am, trapped in unknow foothills in Oregon Territory with a broken leg and no way out. I wound who will find my body...how long will it take for Misty to give up and leave me?

The dark bay mare with her delicate head and compact body did not look much like a horse who could withstand a charge against cannon fire. However, she was the perfect mount for a ranger who need silence, control, and above all, speed. She'd been a gift from James' older brother before he'd left for school, but her intended purpose as an animal of healing had been complicity reversed. Instead of becoming the mount of a doctor, she'd taken her master into the woods and hill, riding alongside the worst and best of the Confederacy' rangers.

James hoped she'd find someone to care for her, and that she'd leave him soon. There was no way he could get himself out of this mishap; not without help at least. His left leg was broken from falling and tumbling down the muddy slope above and slipping of Misty well asleep. James had already diagnosed himself with a compound fracture of the tibia, a shattered fibula, and possible closed fracture, or more than one, of the femur. He'd be lucky to walk again with medical attention, out here such an injury was a lingering death sentence with the risk of animal attack thrown in.

There are someday I hate what training I do have as a doctor, he thought, I know just the procedures needed at this moment, not counting amputation, but can't do a thing because I'm alone.

He also had no supplies, but he'd made do before. James had once coached Frank James though setting his, James, arm after broken it in a fall two years before. He could care for his own wounds and those of others, but he needed another set of hands a light for such things' neither of which he had on hand. So that left him alone in the wilderness with a badly broken leg, a semi-useless right arm, and nothing to do but watch the rain fall and wait for something to happen.

There were always occasional trips further put to deliver supplies to those who had taken residence further from the little town, and rather then others doing so Adaline was always more than willing. It got her further from the bickering of her brothers or the gossip of the wives, her aunts hushed judgment of the unmarried woman, and got her away from the occasion of a man coming to bother her at her doorsteps of the home her father let her live on. Of course she had to be careful while taking such trips to those who lived out in the solitude, constantly looking around.

The young wonans hair was in a dark brown, messy plaited braid, a normal red ribbon tied into it but coming loose, and clothes built more for winter that perhaps may have been handed down from her brothers drawers, stitched a bit, and a little big for her. They were suitable for the weather though, and possessing some experience with the terrain she was relatively unfazed.

Adaline couldn't recount when her family had arrived, she had been young, and they had gone late, bit even then the trip had aided in causing the family a deal of suffering till their arrival. Now, she knew a few paths like the back of her hand when able to see, and knew people in town by voice, even knowing some of their favorite desserts during gatherings.

The Jameson girl had quilts on her persons, hand made, and some vegetables, though she couldn't be as sparing with food, bit could spare some. Many pitched in, though anyone who hinted was usually able to catch themselves some food. Between rabbits to deer, disnt matter. None the less her family liked to help provide others with blankets and some food, sowmtimes even home made soup if a trip could be made before it got cold.

She let a breath escape her mouth, watching fog swirl into the air from her lips, her hand patting her horses neck soon after. She rode atop a light colored palomino stallion, a wheat colored hide and blonde colored locks that looked almost gold at some lighting. The horse was a gift from her father to her as her brother hadn't wished to take responsibility on the once mostly wild steed while Adaline was more than willing, excited even. Now she rode Arthur almost daily, she considered the horse to even be a friend.

Adaline was trying to make the trip a bit quick with the slight rain, but now, as she was moving along one of the trails, the glimpse of something caught her attention. It was a bit off, but she slowed Arthur to a slow trot and would begin approaching, eyes squinting some before the woman would completely stop. She slid off her horse to begin a slow approach. She didn't see the man right away, still a little far. "Hello?" She called out, knowing the risk of doing so, but seeing a horse with the visible rider even if saddled up and such was....a tad odd. Of course people went missing all the time or last animals but...no one she knew of had left the town in the past week really, other than Anthony Timbrin, but he returned home with his steed Max.

Odd....had someone made an unexpected trip without telling anyone? Or did a traveler get lost put here? Maybe just a horse that got out possibly? Maybe. Her thoughts attempted to come up with a logical reason for this, which it did, but she wasnt too sure

Soon Adaline's eyes landed on more than just the mare as she approached closer and a surprised look crossed her face before the worry settled in. Despite this she still had to be wary, as this was clearly a stranger...that and she didn't even know if they were alive currently.

James H. Swift || male || 23 || November 22, 1866 || Oregon Territory

Misty's soft nicker—half warning and half fear—brought James' wandering thoughts back to the moment. Groaning, he forced his leaden eyelids open and turned his head to the side, wondering what had upset his mare so. It took him a moment to see the young women carefully approaching, as Misty now stood between them with her teeth flashing ivory in the rain. Exhaling, James forced his good hand to form the signs he'd taught her for when silence was needed, not wanting her to attack.

Even if I had the courage to speak, I could not, he thought, but there's no telling if my accent will be recognized here. Better to be mute then face the gallows far from home, not that my family would care.

James had never been good with words, particular when he needed to speak to someone he did not know. Now, with his voice putting him at risk for more than just embarrassment, he'd shut down almost completely down. His preference for silence had made him valuable to his commanders, unlike many men, James had no interest in ideal chatter. Only his sister Charlotte ever known how to draw him out of his shell and make him laugh. Not that mattered now, any familiar bonds he'd manage to maintain through his stormy young adulthood, had been broken when he'd ridden off to fight.

Rolling onto his side, James bit back his lip to bite back the pain. He'd wrapped his jacket around the open wound below his knee, but fresh blood began to drip passed the makeshift bandage. The pain was less, but he could still feel figments of bone stabbing at the torn flesh and nerves. James could only pray he'd keep his leg, now.

What must she think of finding me here, lost in the wilderness and seemingly mute? I can't speak, not here, but I can't...I don't know her, trust her, anything.

Adaline Jameson || female || 24 ||

Now, her eyes widened, shock written on her face to see the fresh blood and even some dried blood added with the leg. Either an animal got him, horseback injury, or he had fallen victim to the slopes. She soon reacted, going to Arthur and gently tugging the stallion close, hands tightly gripping his reigns before typing the lead to a tree to approach the man again.

"Don't worry, I'll get ya' somewhere warm and we'll get the doc to look at you. Lucky an animal didn't come and find you." She had her own accent, a thick Scottish accent, representing where her family and past family members were from, though it was a bit altered still woth the other accents she ahd heard while young.

Adaline was now thinking. She had to move him but be careful while doing so. She didn't have a wagon, though now she wished she had brought it, and it was a good trek back without horse back, and she had no idea if she were to hea back if someone or an animal would finish him off before then, if he didn't die befor that. She had no idea how long he had been out there.

"I'm gonna need ye' to cooperate with me. Okay? I'm gonna get ya' over to me horse there, I just need you to...basically lay in the saddle if possible." Adaline wad hoping he was atleast able to think right now. He seemed mostly awake, and she had confidence she could attempt moving him to Arthur, then the tricky part of trying to get this man into a saddle.

James H. Swift || male || 23 || November 22, 1866 || Oregon Territoy

The young women, careful of the silk ground, come closer, leading her own horse by the bridle. James took a moment to admire the magnificent stallion, amazed at how passive he remind despite the proximity to Misty. Even wet his coat shown like white-gold and his mane and tail were long and thick; James could not imagine what he might look like dry and under the sun's golden light. After a moment she anchored her mont to a nearby tree and came closer, eyes sweeping over the scene like a those of a bird of prey.

Her eyes widened when she saw his leg, but she gave no other outward sign of shook and continued to approach. Her voice was calm and polite when she spoke, and James found himself able to relax a little now that he was not alone. Her brow furrowed as she looked him over, and James realized she was unsure if he could understand her.

I'll have to say something, even to calm her, he thought, a sick feeling rising within him, but how can I? My accent is one thing, but I can't talk with someone I don't know, and if I speak now, she won't understand why I don't later when even more people are about, and I'm on the verge of panic.

James would rather face a wall of cannon fire then talk. He'd been that way most of his life, half afraid of saying something wrong and not understanding what joy others found in conversation. Know that he'd become upset if he continued this line of thought, James forced his mind back to the moment and considered just how he could help in getting on a horse and out of this mess with this young women's help.

No point trying to splint my leg here, he thought, would do little go and I'd not be able to ride well—not that I can at the moment. I've rope in Misy's bags, but I can't see what help that could be as binding myself to the saddle won't do. Why did I think doing this alone was a good idea? I could have gotten someone to come with me...

James swallowed hard and nodded his head, hoping she'd understand that he agreed to go along with whatever plan she had thought over. He could only hope he did not pass out from pain or blood loss before she got him wherever they were going, James guessed a town or homestead of some kind. She's mentioned a doctor, but he was loathed to trust another with his care beyond basic nursing.

Hopefuly this goes well, James thought, because it won't just be my life on the line anymore if an animal finds us or one of the horses falls.

Adaline Jameson || female || 24 ||

Adaline was relieved he understood what she said, offering a kind smile before she stood and looked around. She wasn't too sure how to work this but had to try. She leaned down, pausing a moment.

"I'm gonna pick ye' up...or well...help you up. I need you to lean yer' weight on me and keep it off your leg." Her words were soft but a seriousness floated through her tone. She usually wasnt demanding or bossy at all, but in the case was kind of being that way.

She could only imagine the amount of pain he felt, or maybe the pain had been or was too much to the point he didnt feel it anymore. If he was lucky maybe their doctor would be able to ensure he keeps his leg, but not if it was messed up more. His chances were a fifty-fifty really.

The brunette now began helping him up, slowlynamd careful, trying to keep pressure of his leg as she did so and to lean him against herself some. The last thing needed was more blood from his leg and any screams or anything if the pain he endured got worse.

Adaline wished she could admire the beauty of this mans mare, but yet, he concern and worry was toogreat. Although a stranger he was injured, and her humanity didn't allow her to tale long or leave him. Time always meant life death, no matter what. Anyone person would understand that.

Arthur was atleats behaving, the stallion standing there and calm, occasionally a noise escaping his jaws or head turning to look at the two or to the mare.

James H. Swift || male || 23 || November 22, 1866 || Oregon Territory

The world spun as she helped James to his feet, taking most of the weight of his left side on her shoulders. Blood dribbled down his chin as he teeth sank deep into the flesh of his lip, cutting off a scream before it could leave his throat. His breath came in short bursts, but James clung to conciseness and somehow reminded sim-alert. He'd been shot and broken bones before, but never could he remember the pain being so devastating.

Infection, he thought, been in the mud for a while now and my jackets not terribly clean. Best I could do, though, with things the way they are. I can hope, but don't think it will do much good.

The idea of possibly losing his leg did not bother James as much as it might have. Maybe it would later, but getting out of the rain and mud and someplace where medical aid could be considered was far more important. He did wonder where it was they where bond, but could not force himself to ask as they reached her stallion.

A town or settlement, likely, he thought, getting an arm over the golden horse's back for added support, she's mentioned a doctor twice now, and they don't tend to wander about the backwoods. Did the war touch this place much, I wonder?

Misty came to stand within a few yards of them, brown eyes wary. She would follow, James knew, for it was in her training to stay beside him no matter what, but he did worry. If someone tried to handle her without him there to calm her, she was liable to trample them. She'd kill a man that way once, and he'd no wish to repeat the incident.

Adaline Jameson || female || 24 ||

Once Adaline managed to go him into the saddle as carefully as possible she moved. "Leane forward as best ye' can, therefore if ya' pass out you ain't gonna fall out and get trampled by Arthur." She spoke, startled to see blood dribble from her mouth, but no more words left her mouth.

Now the woman mover, untying Arthur's lead before she carefully turned him. She didn't want the man to fall off, and was ready to jump in to keep him atop if it came down to it.

Arthur was still calm, but wary with a stranger atop his back, but the stallion kept his calm as he walked beside his brunette rider. It would take a while to get back, as she had to be careful to avoid him falling added woth to avoid steering spots.

Adaline paused a moment before she let go slowly, shrugging off her brothers old jacket now, reaching up to rest it against him. She still wore a longsleeve shirt, and besides, he had probably been in the cold much longer then her. She could handle the cold, and a trek back despite how much a pain it would be.

Still...how did he get out yeee? How long has he been out here? Can he not speak or somethin'? Sure hope Doc can fix him up without amputation but....it don't look good. Her gaze, for a brief moment, flickered to his broken leg before forward. She could tell the mare was following, hearing the heavy steps of hooves that were more than just Arthur's. .

James H. Swift || male || 23 || November 22, 1866 || Oregon Territory

James did his best to force his numbed fingers to grip Arthur's mane. The young women had taken the reins, carefully leading them around rocks and between trees. She clearly knew the path they followed well, though James—skilled tracker as he was—could not understand it. He focused all his energy into not pitching forward or sideways into the mud and risk hurting himself even more severely.

I wonder what she's doing out here alone? He mused, needing to think of something besides the pain. Funny, that I know the name of her horse before I know her's. It's a strange world we live in, where such things happen.

After a bit, they paused, and she took off the jacket she wore and wrapped it about his shoulders, sheltering James from the worst of the rain. He might have told her he'd a blanket in the bags Misty carried, but was too tired and afraid to form words. Inside he just nodded his thanks and made an effort to smile. It was the best he could manage.

James did not know for how long they travelled, but by his best estimate it was a few hours. He drifted as they moved along, never asleep due to pain, wet, and fear, but resting enough to allow some of the worse hurts to become void. He knew this state of mind well, having gone days without sleep in the past, but upon this evening, James found it more restful than he ever had before.

Better this then alcohol, he thought, although bloodloss and shock have much the same effect. Warmth and a real bed, at least those two things are guaranteed me now, food as well. Though the onset of winter can't be a good time to be having unexpected visitors, perhaps I could offer some form of payment...light?

He blinked and looked up, trying to get the rain out of his eyes without letting go of Arthur. Ahead, distorted by the rain, twinkled the golden lights of a town lit with candles and laps. He could see the buildings only as dark shapes, but that looked well-made and watertight. James could also smell smoke on the air., indicating that hearth fires were also lit to ward against the chill air and offer more light to the rooms in which they burned.

They slowed to a stop, and James looked to the young women beside him, not knowing what might happen next. He hoped she planned on asking for help when it came time to get him down, as he did not much like the idea of dropping down for the stallion's back with an untreated broken leg. He'd jumped from Misty with a bullet in his leg before, and the memory of that was still fresh enough to make him hope he'd not be doing it with a broken one.