passing ghosts || open

[Rio Daniels]

Rio couldn't sleep, and when that happened she normally took her stallion West out for a ride. That was what the plan was for tonight. Bundling herself up in her long black overcoat, she shoved her hair on her head, not bothering to tuck her braid up as she normally did. Using her red handkerchief to cover the bottom half of her face to protect her from the chill that had settled over the town, she made her way to the stables near the Inn. Going to her horse's stall, she saddled him quickly and easily, passing a brush over his mostly white coat. Once he was fairly clean, she gave him a strong pat on his muscled neck and then continued getting him ready. He was used to his rider's restlessness by now so this was no surprise to him. "Sorry boy, but I can't stop my mind from wanderin' tonight." She offered him as an apology, holding a normal conversation with him as if it was normal.

Leading him out of his stall once his headstall was in place, she mounted up, still in the livery, which wasn't normally allowed. But who was out now to stop her. Asking him to trot forward, she let him warm up as they went along, their breaths puffing out to form small clouds from the chill. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled her gloves on her icy fingers, never one to deal well with the cold. Puffing into her hand even with the gloves, she tried to warm herself up. Rio always got extremely cold. It didn't matter if it was fifty degrees or below zero. It was something that she just couldn't deal with. It frustrated her to no end but there was nothing she could do about it to be perfectly honest. Asking West to move a bit more forward, she settled comfortably as he loped easily along, covering more ground. She didn't know where she was going, but the movement was keeping her warm.

She pulled him up as they reached the outskirts of the town and her eyes squinted in the moonlight to see what was up ahead. Furrowing her brow she caught sight of what looked like a row of gravestones. Asking her stallion to jog on, she came closer to the fenced in area and saw them. They were gravestones alright, and she was instantly set on guard. West was quivering below her, obviously uncomfortable with being so near to the dead. He reared slightly in his nervousness and Rio lay a comforting hand on his neck. "S'alright West. They ain't gonna hurt ya now." She whispered in the dark, assuring him as much as she was assuring herself. They were dead and buried. They couldn't damage her or her horse. But that didn't slow West's dancing feet, and it only made her heartbeat increase. The uneasiness that had settled over them both was palpable and she wasn't comfortable in the least.

West reared sideways and she struggled to stay seated, for she hadn't been expecting it. Regaining her balance, she held tighter to the reins. "There ain't nothin' there ya crazy fool.." She chided him, trying to get him to settle. Not much spooked the horse, but the dead had always been hard for both of them to handle. Rio was always brought back to the attack that killed her mother and father, and West always experienced her feelings as she remembered. Standing now, she studied the headstones laid out before her, asking West to walk forward. They needed to face their fears. Weaving him in and out of the rows of gravestones, she was suddenly aware of a light up ahead. Hesitating now, she tried to make it out. She couldn't tell if it was a lamp or not, but she reached for the weapon at her hip, ready to grab it if the need arose. "Who's there?"

[Shawn Flanagan]

Hearing a horse in the distant, Shawn turned his head so his ears can hear the disturbance. The direction was the cemetery. Someone was out in the cemetery at this time. Slowly and gently, he crawled out of his bed. Not waking up Rosalyn her sleep. Being blind, he was sensitive to sound and adapt to move quiet. He blindly grabbed for his jacket that was hanging the wooden head post. Pulling it off the post, Shawn slipped his long leather jacket on. He slid his leather boots on, he did not care for socks. There was no time for that. He grabbed his hat and placed it on his head. He grabbed his long stick which was like a rod. And he started to work his way out of the quiet house. As he got out, he was striding his way toward the cemetery.

Knowing his own cemetery, he was able to walk there. As he got closer he knew someone was there. It was a female. Holding the stick out, Shawn looked the direction where he believe the person was. The light that Rio saw was her imagination.

Who's there, a female voice asked. The voice came from the smell and sound of the horse. Shawn was estimating she was on her horse still. “I am the undertaker of this cemetery,” Shawn announced with confidence hiding the fact he was blind as a bat. Knowing he can't see but he wasn't sure she knew that. His bandage was still around his head but the hat could be hiding the bandage. “What I can do for you at this time of night?” he asked.

[Rio Daniels]

West moved sideways quickly, his hind end swinging as he tried to dash away from the cemetery. Rio's hands worked expertly on the reins, having been on the horse since he was a three year old. As he stumbled slightly, she supported him, wondering what had him so spooked. It had to be the spirits. There was no other explanation. "West. c'mon, easy does it." She tried comforting him, her hand going to stroke his neck calmly. His dancing feet finally came to a halt as she soothed him, his ears perked forward as he became aware of someone moving in the darkness. Feeling him still beneath her was a bit of a relief, for she really didn't want to worry about being thrown from his back and having to chase him in this strange darkness. Her horse gave her courage and if he took off she didn't know what kind of a position she'd be in.

Now though, her attention was pulled from her horse and to the figure that was making its way slowly through the darkness. Her heart skipped a beat in uneasiness. She wouldn't admit that it was fear. She wasn't the kind of person that allowed herself to be afraid. She just didn't have the time for it to be perfectly honest. Living on her own for this long didn't leave room for fear. Taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart, she let it out slowly and watched the figure getting closer and closer. It wasn't a ghost. That just wasn't possible. She was an idiot for even thinking of it. And West was actually behaving himself, so there really was no way that it was a ghost. To be on the safe side, Rio reached under her jacket to her left hip, pulling the colt revolver she had sitting there. She had another on her right hip, but one would do for now as she held her reins.

She didn't make a sound with the gun and just held it in her hand for safety measures. She wasn't taking any chances. Hearing his voice cut across the silence, she furrowed her brow. The undertaker. That was creepy. Why anyone would want that profession was beyond her. "That sounds like a damn dream job." Her voice was low, but not as low as she would have liked it to be. And unfortunately, she was not polite. Her manners died ten years ago along with her parents. Hearing his next question, Rio did the best she could to not be downright rude. "I ain't in need of yer assistance. Just passin' through. Ain't nothin' that says I can't be in this here cemetery." She responded defensively. She didn't want to cause any trouble, but trouble was in her nature. Sighing softly, she stayed on her horse, sitting comfortably as West finally settled down. Patting his neck, her bright blue eyes wandered to the form of the man. It was too dark to make out anything striking about him, so for now she kept her gun in her hand, trying to judge the situation. "You gotta name?"

[Shawn Flanagan]

To be honest, cemeteries are gorgeous during day time. At night time, they do have a creepy looking which make your skin crawl. The moon shines her rays down on the tombstones. Long shadows casts a darkness making things more darker with a sinister appearance. One person imagination could play games too. The shadows would be moving and next thing you feel you are being haunted.

Shawn used to fear cemeteries during the night when he was young. But when he started to work out in the cemeteries digging six feet holes for coffins. He soon adapt to the quiet of the cemetery. It was a place peace and quiet. Where the dead had a place to rest and not be bothered. People do try to play games in the cemetery. There are funny stories that rich bury money with the dead. Etc.

Now, he was blind. He could not see all that but still he knew his cemetery. It was his home. His stick shifted, it hit a tombstone. That was Jones' head stone, he placed his hand on it. The cool stone was a welcome touch. Yes, it was the Jones' he could tell by the end of the tombstone. His wife was five rows north from where they are standing.

Living Del Fuego, Shawn had witness when he could see that this big city had a rough crowd. What he did not know that she had gun. But what he had to believe that she had a gun or a weapon or something. Trying to turn his around a little so he could hear better. He used his judgement that she was alone.

The horse was more calmer now. The horse could possible freaked out by the area. Horse and animals had senses that humans did not have. It could possible that some of the dead that was buried still had an evil essence to them. It was the smell of evil the horse was smelling. Some criminals where so evil that the smell of evil stuck like glue.

Her voice was a like sword slicing through the darkness. She was not nice. Again, she was someone who sounded like belonged to the city. Her accent was not like the folk of the city but it had a little different accent. Shawn could not figure it out. She wasn't really a local here.

"That sounds like a damn dream job. she said, Shawn was not surprise of her sarcastic tone. “It is a job. An honorable one. Not many have the heart to do it, ” he replied to her with calmness as the cold of the night. Yes, it was chilly but he was being calm.

There was an image of her in his mind. Long black, wavy hair which was wild like her personality. Blue cruel eyes that can steal the soul out of a man's body. He was imaging her wearing a leather jacket and brown pants. She was not dress to impress. More like a highway man would. He was wrong of course. He was blind but only sees what he can imagine.

Shawn was confident. He did not show any sign of fear. The gun she had out did not seem to effect him. Not sure how she would feel about that? Maybe Shawn looked he knew what he was talking about.

"I ain't in need of yer assistance. Just passin' through. Ain't nothin' that says I can't be in this here cemetery.

Shawn takes his job serious and protects his job. Some people paid for their loved ones to be buried in the cemetery. There was a section for the criminals and one for the good spirits. It did not matter to Shawn. He was going to be sure nobody damage his cemetery.

“You can move around the cemetery,” he told her pointing the direction to the south area. “It is dangerous for a horse to travel through here at night. It will easily be spooked. And there be a chance your horse kick over a tombstone. And that will be a problem. And the chance of your horse clearing the cemetery is nil.” he told her cool as he had his full vision which he did not have. Yes, he was bold but he takes full responsible. The stubborn attitude shines like day light in the night.

“The name is Shawn,” he replied . He leaned his weight on the Jones' tombstone and he held his stick with his other hand. It might not look like a gun in the dark. She could possible see it was a stick. There was no glint of steel that moon beam can catch.. “And what name do you go by, Ma'am?” He wished he could see the horse. It must be a black horse, Shawn was thinking.

Shawn knew he had to sound like he was normal. She might not notice he can't see. It was not just a cemetery he was protecting. There was a family too. So he had to act tough. It was a weight on the shoulders for this responsible. But he was not going to allow this handicap slow him down. When he still have two legs, two arms and lungs to breathe. He was a man who had responsibilities to care for what he worked for.

Shawn had a warrior spirit. That's what the Indians thought of him. His spirit was strong. Of course it was strong. Shawn kept his eyes on his God the heavenly father for strength. That's his iron to be standing in the dark with the strange woman

.

[Rio Daniels]

Her eyes roamed over the man in front of her, trying to figure him out just by studying him. Her photographic memory only served its purpose when she could actually see, so other than helping her remember her way out of the cemetery over a safe path, it was fairly useless in this situation. The moon did not give her enough light to go off of or she would be able to tell that this man was blind, and she'd use that to her advantage. She was an outlaw. She had been since she was ten years old and her crimes had only gotten worse as she aged. At first she had started out robbing and thieving. Now she wasn't afraid to take a life if the situation called for it. This situation, at this moment, did not call for it. She wasn't bloodthirsty. She hated murdering people, as did most normal human beings. She only did it when there was no other choice and there was a choice here. She didn't need to kill this man. He hadn't done anything wrong. Not yet anyway. She wasn't in a dangerous situation from what she could see, so for the time being, she relaxed.

Letting her weapon slide back into its holster, she made sure she tucked her jacket back so she could reach it again easily if the need called for it. The man hadn't seemed to pay her gun any mind so she truly did not believe that he was a threat. He was simply the undertaker of this land and it seemed that he was patrolling his property. That seemed fair and easy enough to understand, so she tried not to pay him that much mind. Well, she was paying him enough mind at the moment, but not any more than that, if that made any sense. Confusion rippled through her at that very moment as she struggled to figure out what she should do now. West was calm below her. She could feel it in his body language. The stallion had relaxed, lowering his head a little to inspect the gravestones below him. If Rio was relaxed, then he was relaxed and that was all that mattered. She rubbed his neck once more and then turned her attention to the man as he spoke before her.

He had the heart to do this job. She wanted to insult him once more, as was her nature. However, as of right now, he had done nothing but be respectful towards her and she needed to repay the favor at least once. Sighing to herself, she finally spoke up, trying to keep the sarcasm from her voice. Being genuine was not something that Rio Daniels was used to being. She was a crook, through and through. She was as crooked as they came and she wasn't known for her kindness. If she had a friend, that was when her kindness showed. And as of right now, she was new in Del Fuego, meaning her friend list was considerably short. It was non existent. She wasn't here to make friends. She was here to make money for herself in whatever way that she could. Right now, she didn't need to make enemies, that was for certain. So, she bit her tongue as best as she could. "Well bless yer good heart then." There. That was nice, right? She hoped it sounded as kind as she imagined it did. Knowing her tone and her accent though, it would be taken the wrong way. But hey, she was trying here.

Giving herself a mental pat on the back for her attempt at being friendly, which actually failed miserably, she sat quietly, still studying the man. Something seemed off about him. What was that stick for? Eying it warily, she furrowed her brow, then reached to push the brim of her hat up a ways to study him more closely. Noticing the bandage over one of his eyes, she wondered if the stick was to help him out because of his affected sight. Questions flew up into her mind but she refused to voice them. It didn't really matter to him. Her eyes flew up to the land behind him, and she noticed the house some distance away. Instantly her criminal mind started wandering and she wondered if she could make a profit here. Looking back to him, she took in his appearance. He seemed to be dressed well enough, letting her know that he made a decent living. Wondering if he had a family, she listened as he spoke up once more about the cemetery and how it was dangerous.

Her fiery spirit flared instantly and she found herself hating men all over again. Who did he think he was? Just because he owned this place didn't mean that he owned her and her ability to go where she wanted to go. Offended instantly, she knew that she wouldn't be able to control her temper anymore. West picked up on her sudden shift of attitude, but he was so used to her anger that he hardly responded. His ears flicked back to her, but that was all. He snorted in boredom, and Rio focused on the man in front of her. "Well I thank ya for yer concern of my horse spookin', but we're fine. We been handlin' tougher terrain then this here cemetery, and he's been up against scarier situations than this." She informed the undertaker roughly. His words were like an insult to her horse's character and she wasn't going to take lightly to that. No one insulted her horse. She didn't care what they said about her for the most part, but if anyone said anything against West, she was sure to cause one hell of a problem.

Trying to rein in her temper, for she was sure the man was just trying to be helpful, she failed for the most part. She just couldn't help it. She hadn't had any guidance since she was ten and she really had no regard for manners. "He ain't no cow. He watches where he puts his feet, thank ya kindly." She spoke out in support of her stallion once more, patting the paint's next once more. He was nearly all white, and he actually stood out even in the darkness. His chestnut decorated head was something to look at, and he was actually a rather sharp looking stallion. He would have been a stud worth keeping on a ranch for breeding stock, but that wasn't how it worked out for Rio and her family. She laced her gloved fingers through his mane for a moment and then spoke yet again. "He's got better eyes than I do at night. I give him his head and he'll make it through just fine, thank ya." She wasn't respectful when it came to sticking up for her horse.

Not dismounting even though it would be proper manners, she stayed where she was, the tension obvious in her body. She was mad. She hated when people, make that men, thought they could tell her what to do and she'd listen without a care in the world. Oh no. That was not the kind of woman she was. She had adapted as a tough woman in a society that was not built for a girl to survive alone. But she had, and it was simply because she was more manly in her ways. She had to. She had no choice. And then she heard his name. Shawn. She wanted to inform this Shawn that she was not like any other woman that he had ever met. She was cruel and rough around the edges. It was the only way she had survived this long. As he asked for a name, she thought for a moment and just decided to be up front about her calling. "Rio. And this here's West." It only felt right to introduce her horse as well.

Thinking quickly, she wondered how she could break into his home and his other out buildings without raising much of a suspicion. Tonight would definitely not be the night. The man was on guard now and she wasn't a fool. Pulling her canvas jacket more tightly around her slim form, she wished she had warmer clothes now. Shifting in the saddle, the leather creaked from the crisp air and she wondered how much longer she had until she could actually rob this place. He had to have a fortune if no one else wanted this job. Eying him again, she spoke up, not caring if she came across rude any longer. "Ya been an undertaker long, Shawn?"

[Shawn Flanagan]

Well bless yer good heart then." Shaw heard the words in the air. Not sure what she meant.. Was she good or bad. Being blind, one can't see the details of life now. So you really could not judge someone. The world was dark for Shawn. Maybe it was to test him.

Nodding his head to what she said and tapped the rim of his hat to her.

There was silence. The horse she was on was calm. There was no need for the horse to be scared because Shawn was not a threat. Working with horses, Shawn knew that rider was calm too because the horse was behaving calm too. It was little, but it was all lot for Shawn.

The wind must have shifted because Shawn sensed a shift in the air. He was not sure what it was. Not knowing he was sensing an emotion rage like a tidal wave that hit him. So, Shawn would think it was one of those ill feelings that you think there is a thunderstorm was coming. You know the hairs of your skin feel it. Some times you got the inkling feeling of a tornado was about to come down and smash the earth foundation.

"Well I thank ya for yer concern of my horse spookin', but we're fine. We been handlin' tougher terrain then this here cemetery, and he's been up against scarier situations than this." she said to Shawn. That did not sound comforting to Shawn. Why could he not see her face expression? This what he hated. How he missed the eyes that express the souls emotions. Now, he realized he had taken his own eyes for granted. How he wished he could go back in time? It was all lost. Least he still had his life and family.

“Ma'am,” Shawn said trying to sound concern. “I was not judging your horse. It is a bad omen when a grave is disturbed.” It was not true, but that little rumor people made had spook people to stay away from cemeteries. Some times there be body snatchers. The ones who sneak in cemeteries and steal bodies for science and art. Shawn had not encounter those thieves yet. There are people who rob the graves too hoping to find treasure that was buried with the dead. Again, stories people make but some are true. There was perhaps three corpses that had treasure buried with them because the family wanted it. The woman loved her horse. The way how she was saying her horse was not a cow. He was going to say he did not say her horse was a cow. Holding his tongue was the best action. There was no sense adding fuel to her anger which was heating up to a forest fire.


“Well, Miss Rio, I had been an undertaker here for nearly a month now,” he replied and removed his hand from the gravestone. He licked his lips. “It is late. I am not going to ask you what you are doing out here at night. It can be dangerous,” Shawn continued. “My home has an open door policy almost like a church. You can take your horse to the barn. Over there,” he gestured which he was pointing by three O'clock when it should be two O'clock. She might noticed that he was blind because the moon was more on his face because he adjusted his hat. The stick he was holding was what she thought it was. “You can stay in my son's bed. We feed you in the morning. . . just a warning Miss. Rio. I am blind. I know this property in and out. Don't you pity me. Just stay as a guest for a night. No strings attached. If your new to De Fuego. We will be glad to help you. Do you accept the offer?” he asked waiting for her reply.

A man name Conrad Hilton was born in Texas and his father Gus never carried a gun. Gus said a man who carries a gun usually gets shot first or he was the one shoots. A man who does not have a gun was most likely will walk away without. There was one time when Gus had met a man who pointed a gun at him in a bar. Mister Gus said some words the gun man. The gun man put the gun away and hugged Gus. Conrad figured Gus told him about life was not bad as it was. Not sure, but he could said something about Jesus. (Oh Conrad Hilton is the founder of the Hilton Hotels and this story is TRUE)

Possible Shawn will learn that not having a gun can really change a situation. Like an argument. It takes two argue. Having one gun might not involve a death but could make the event be peace. It all depends on the person who has the gun.

[Rio Daniels]

Rio studied the man in the moonlight, her mind telling her that something was off about him. She didn't understand what it was because she didn't know him, but as she continued to stare, she continued to read his body language. Trying to figure out what was different about him, she furrowed her brow, laying her hand on West's neck when he tossed his head. He hated standing still for very long but she needed his patience now. If she could solve the mystery that was this man then she could maybe make a profit for the night. She didn't want to hold him at gun point. For some reason she didn't think that would work in her favor. He apparently knew these lands and she didn't. She had no way of knowing where he would take her and she wasn't foolish enough to take that risk. Sighing softly she watched him carefully now, trying not to feel too offended by what she deemed were insults to her horse. She hated when people made remarks about her horse.

He was a different color than most people were used to and it bothered her that they didn't accept him. His body was nearly all white, save for the few chestnut red patches that decorated his stomach and his blank. They were tiny patches hidden by the saddle of the most part, so he appeared to have a white body. His head was framed by the chestnut coloring, his left eye colored blue. It was called the Devil's eyes, and no one trusted the stallion that the outlaw called her own. She didn't care if they didn't trust him. She certainly did and that was all that mattered to her. Patting his muscled neck once more, she heard Shawn's voice start up again, breaking the silence that was only making Rio worry. Why had she even come here? She hated cemeteries, and it wasn't like she was going to find peace here. Her parents were buried here. Their blood had stained the ground many years before and she doubted the Native Americans gave them a proper burial. There was nothing for her here.

Slightly frustrated with herself for venturing this far, she was even more out of sorts because this man had suddenly shown up. Why did he even bother? Resisting the urge to grumble to herself, she responded to his first comment. "We ain't gonna steal from any graves. I don't steal from the dead, so you can rest yer mind." She reassured him, trying to sound more friendly. She didn't want him to be that wary of her anymore. She needed to learn how to confront people with a friendlier tone so that their suspicions weren't raised immediately. Chiding herself for her rash behaviors, she sighed as West shifted in boredom, throwing his head once more. She adjusted herself in the saddle, trying to get her stallion to relax for once in his uptight life. Patting him, rubbing his neck, she shushed him, and then was aware of the man speaking again.

"Yer gonna let a total stranger stay in yer house?" She asked him incredulously. What a fool he was. He was asking to be robbed and she couldn't say that she wouldn't take anything. But here he was, offering her a bed and a meal in the morning, as well as stabling for her horse. Furrowing her brow, she wondered what was making him offer such things to her. She hadn't been the kindest individual and when she was finished with his home he was going to regret the open invitation. Watching him, her eyes widened slightly as he admitted that he was blind. When he asked her not to pity him, she nearly laughed. Pity him? For what reason? He was sightless, not brainless. If he didn't have a mind, if he couldn't think for himself, then she'd pity him. But having no eyes wasn't something that earned her heart. Shaking her head, she sighed. "Well I am sorry for yer lack of sight. I'll accept yer offer." She stated carefully, watching him and following his finger to where he had pointed. Well, he was a bit off but he was close enough. She could see the stable.

"I'm goin' ta put him up for the night, so if you'll 'scuse me." She offered as an explanation, turning West easily. The stallion moved forward, dancing a few steps in his happiness to be doing something. She rode him straight to the barn, dismounting and leading him inside. Catching sight of the other horses, she looked at West. "Behave yerself, ya brute." She informed him, untacking him and resting his equipment off to the side. He settled into the stall happily and she offered him hay and water, making sure he was settled before stepping outside. She walked back to Shawn, ready for him to lead her to his house. "After ya then Shawn."

[Shawn Flanagan]

(I try to give you something to work with...I am not a good writer like you)


Lay out of the area

The cemetery, layout of house

Cemetery is West
Stables is north
Shade is the second floor- when you look ignore the shade. But if you look outside you got an idea it is two story.

The stable had a two black horses and a brown horse inside. They were beautiful horses but they where little startled with the new horse. They were not prejudice. It was late and there was a new horse. They had accepted the fact. Rio...well... they seemed to shift a bit. There was something about her that they did not quite like.

Their ears went back a little and the brown horse snorted. “Now, welcome the stranger. Don't be naughty, Chestnut,” he said to the brown horse who shook his head. “Be a good host and welcome them.”

After the horses, Rio could see there was a small black wagon after the horses. It looked like a hearse. And next to the hearse, there was a wood workshop. Lumber was cut. There was at least three unfinished coffins that was sitting on horse stands. One coffin was up against a wall with no body in it. It was one of those wooden coffins that use for criminals. And that was what it was for. The recent dead corpse that was going to be buried. But the body was not near by. Not saying where the bodies are stored.

------

Shawn's house was two housed in one but they are adjoined together. The one facing the cemetery was the house for the funerals.

From the stables was a little walk, Shawn had no problem going through it. Poking with his stick, he was looking through the stick. It was like how we walk and we look through our eyes. You walked to the bathroom a million times, but we always depended the usage of sight to see where we are going.

Cobble stones made the walk way to the outside porch. There was a three benches on the porch and small wooden tables near the benches. On the walkway and around he porch the guests see all kinds of beautiful flowers taking bloom in the month of April.

On the far side, with the dim light of the moon, one can see there was a small garden of vegetables being grown and some bushes.

Shawn's parents had accepted they watch over Rosalyn's house that was on the other side of the big town that was a small city that's soon to be a huge. In a way, Shawn was glad his parents where watching over Rosalyn's house. Deep down, Shawn was glad he was getting married to Rosalyn. You see, he did not see it before but he sees it now. That he was about to be protecting Rosalyn from other people. Like people like, Duke. Duke wanted business. Shawn wanted business too. Shawn's business was unique. It was steady or all lot business. It was one business that would that could not just fail because of the economy. He had a solid foundation to gain money. It was small or all lot. The business he was running was near win-to-win and you don't lose to much. But Shawn was devoted to his business. He won't just give it up. Taking of the dead was his heart interest for an occupation. Except he can't see.

And for Rosalyn. She has a huge house that her father left to her when he died. It was a nice house and a few horses for her. Some heritage. People like Duke would grab that and use it for making money. Shawn realized he saved Rosalyn from dealing with those sharks. But he is blind so he was not sure he was going to protect her as he hoped for.

The back door was french door with no curtains. He held the door for Rio. The room they entered was like a small sitting room with nice furniture. Flowers on the walls and vases. This room had a hall that lead to the front house section for the mourners to get a break from the funeral. They where welcome to go to the outside porch.

The was dining room that was near the kitchen, it was seen through a door way. He led her through a door that led to the sitting room. This was a nice decorated room. Nice stuff too because it was very homey looking. It was not just for them but for the guests. The mourners are allowed to go in their personal seating room.

There was three doors. One door was shut and it was locked. There was two doors by each other. “Let me go wake up, James,” Shawn told Rio. Reaching out, Shawn was able to get to the room with hitting anything. The door was ajar, he walked in.

“Shh, James, I need you to get up,” Shawn was whispering quietly to his son who was not stirring in his sleep. He gently shook his son's little body.

“I don't want to, Paw,” the little tired voice could be heard.

“We have a guest who needs your bed,” Shawn explained quietly to his son.

The little boy sighed. “Why do you this too me?” He slowly got out of bed. “I love you but your killing me.”

“You a good son,” Shawn told him as he placed his hand on his small head. “You know the policy. Open door policy. We don't turn away strangers.”

They came out of the room, Shawn had his hand on his shoulders as he was standing behind him. “Oh...” James sounded surprised. “She's not a he.”

Shawn tapped James's shoulder. “Shh, don't be rude. Sorry for my son. . . Now go sleep Miss. Rosalyn,” he told her.

“Are you going to join us?” he asked.

“Nope. Gonna sleep out on the porch,” Shawn told his son.

“Can I sleep with you,” he begged.

“No, I don't want you get a cold. You go on and sleep with Miss Rosalyn. ” he ordered his son. His son gave him a long look. Than he obeyed his father.

"You can sleep in his room," he told Rio. "is there anything I can get you before you go to sleep, Miss Rio?"

[Rio Daniels]

As they strolled from the stables, Rio checked back on her stallion once more, looking over her shoulder. He was looking at her quietly, his head hanging over the stall door. He pointedly ignored the other horses. He wasn't being rude, but he was more concerned with his owner. The pair had a bond and it was rather noticeable. Sighing softly, she didn't like leaving him, even if he was in a warm stall and just a walk away from where she was sleeping. Rio was an outlaw, a wanderer. She was used to staying up on cold nights with no one but West to keep her warm. She felt like she was abandoning him. Furrowing her brow, she felt incredibly uneasy suddenly, and her ice blue eyes turned to glance to the side. What she saw made her heart drop straight down to her boots. Coffins.

Well, that was a bit foreboding. She didn't know how this man did his line of work. Without his sight it had to be difficult to create this objects, to make sure the lines were straight and to make sure the things were the correct sizes. She wondered how long he had been without his sight at that moment. Turning away from the coffins that only filled her with a horrible sense of foreshadowing, she looked to the man now. Studying his stature, she observed that he was in rather good shape. His job must have demanded that of him. Staying quiet as he led her into the house, her eyes immediately took in the surrounding area. It was decorated rather nicely, but it seemed homey at the same time. Her criminal mind instantly took in a type of list, cataloging what she could make off with.

It was then that Shawn's voice filled the silence, and Rio spoke up. "Ya ain't gotta do that, sir. I'm used to the floor." But he was gone in seconds and she was left standing there. Furrowing her brow, she made a once over of the sitting room again and sighed. Could she really steal from a blind man? He wasn't going to lose business anytime soon. People died every day. He could replace the things that went missing and to be perfectly honest, how was he going to notice what was gone? Her attention was turned away from the negativity as he came shuffling through the door with his son. As the boy stated that Rio was not a he, she raised her eyebrow in response, crossing her arms over her chest. "Ya gotta bright boy there." Yes it was rude but he hadn't curbed his manners either. Rio dealt what she received, even if he was only just a boy. He had to learn the cruelties of the world and she'd be happy to lend a hand in that.

Reminding herself to be nice, she struggled with her attitude for a moment and then sighed. "Sorry about that. Lack a slack doin' it to me." She offered as a means of explanation and then watched as the boy disappeared into Rosalyn's room, whoever that was. Rio turned to Shawn now, unable to bring herself to make a blind man sleep out on the porch. "Yeah...a blanket and would be nice. I ain't gonna make ya sleep out on the porch in yer own home. I thank ya for yer hospitality, but it just don't sit right with me. I'm used ta sleepin' outside. I reckon I'll sleep easier bein' in a familiar settin'. Please..""

((Your posts are fine, really! They always give me plenty to reply to! I enjoy posting with you!))

[Shawn Flanagan]

“In the Bible. In the new Testament. The owner of the keep told Joseph that they had no room in the keep. The Innkeeper knew Mary was pregnant. He did not offer his own bed to the woman. Instead, the owner turned on the poor couple. He did not care. He had no shame. He did not have a heart,” Shawn shared to Rio, he continued, “My home is a home to those who need a roof,” he told her tilting his head. “This is my home. I do what pleases me. You will sleep in my son's bed, I am going outside to sleep,” Shawn's voice was stern. It was the truth. He believed he was the host, and he was being a dutiful host to Rio. It was the right thing to do. The undertaker was stubborn. There are times he gets what he wants and does not care what the other party wants.

“Not another word,” he warned her. He moved over to the couch, pulled the cover blanket off the couch, he took it with him as he went outside. “Good night,” he said closing the door behind him. May was a warm month in Texas. Shawn was not going to catch a cold. The property he owned was safe. He felt safe enough to sleep under the twilight stars. How he wished he could see them? How he missed the twinkling of the stars. He could only use what he could remember.

Using the stick, he got to the bench, sat down on it, laid his back down on it, kick his legs out, and he pulled the cover over his long body. The battle was won. The Irish had always wanted to win the last battle. It was in their blood. That's what makes them a whopping race. They give a decent fight. They don't give up. Very stubborn too. The Irish always does a admirable job. Well, most of the time. Unless he was drunk, or being lazy. They do get the job done with much pride.