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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required His heart was cold, cold as stone as he sat staring straight ahead. He had white lines from squinting painted on the sides of his suntanned temples. Even the wide brimmed hat he wore couldn’t protect his face from the sun which seemed to burn like a ball of fire coming from hell. He hated his Sergeant for dragging them through this barren dessert searching for an outlaw named Jake McCloud and he was certain Jakes bones would already be bleached from the sun when and if they ever found him. Five men had already died and now they sat waiting for Sergeant Bennett's next command with stomachs aching and lips cracked from thirst. He knew death was following them rapidly so having enough he grabbed the Sergeant’s gun and sword and made Him get off his horse. Don’t be a fool the Sergeant had pleaded with him, we are almost there. He ignored him saying you’ve been telling us this for days and he rode off alone. He lasted two days out there alone when his horse fell over from exhaustion, then he walked for hours staggering like a drunk. Finally worn and broken, thirsty and starving, he took out the little medal stool he had and sat down slouched and beaten. The Indians tell tales of how the man with the stone heart sat that day a broken man and as he sat there his whole wretched body turned to stone. To this day, you can see him slouched in his chair in a place called East Jesus. His Sergeant and comrades? They were rescued by the Calvary just hours after he had left them. Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 12.20.2014 Contest: East Jesus
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