Scribblez09

Charles Conway - Character Study 2

Charles Conway - Character Study 1

"Meeting Ms. Callahan"

Pencil on 11" x 14" paper

"Good evening, gentlemen."

Peter flinched and looked up at her, then exchanged a frightened and embarrassed countenance with his brother.

She laughed. "Come now, don't be shy. I just want to get to know you."

Peter frowned and looked away as he sipped his tea. Charles stared up at her.

"Ah," she said, eyeing him with a promising gleam in her emerald eyes. "I see you're the braver one." She pulled a nearby chair closer to the table and sat down, propping her elbows on the table. She rested her chin on top of her clasped hands. Her breasts nearly tumbled out of the top of her dress. "You don't seem like you're from around here. Where are you from?"

Charles swallowed, eyes flicking down at her chest. "E-England, m-madam."

Her eyes widened. "What brings you here?"

"W-we're just trying to find fortune we couldn't find back at home." He cleared his throat. "W-What about you? You seem a bit...out of place here."

"Ah. Well, you see, I am under the most unfortunate circumstances. I was in route to California, but I ran out of money for the coach, and now I'm stranded here."

The brothers exchanged dubious looks.

"So, uh...I reckon you're without a job, then?"

"I am doing what I can to survive." She leaned in closer, her breasts inches from his hand. She cocked her head slightly, eyes glittering with intrigue as a coquettish smirk ahead across her painted lips. "Why? Do you require my services?"

"New Stable Hands"

Pencil on 11" x 14" paper

The glistening bald top of an older man’s head caught their attention as they neared the middle of the stable. He was bent over picking out the back left hoof of a dapple-gray mare, grunting and huffing as he dug out the packed layer of mud and manure with a hoof pick. As the brothers approached, the mare looked back over her rump at the approaching strangers. She pinned her ears back, jerked her hoof out of the man’s grasp, and set it down on the ground.

“C’mon, gimme your damn hoof,” the man grumbled. He went to pick the hoof back up but paused as the brothers came to stand before him and the horse. He straightened up and looked the brothers over with a tired but hopeful glint in his gray eyes. The balding man sported short dark hair and a clean-shaven face. He was built like a draft horse, tall and stocky enough to make the mare standing beside him appear as if she were a pony. The man brushed off his gray long-sleeved shirt, brown pants, and blacksmith chinks, then grabbed the mare’s lead rope and turned her around to face the brothers.

“Anything I can help you with?” he asked, his booming baritone reverberating through the stable.

Charles nodded. “Yes, sir. My brother and I were looking for work.”

“You boys good with horses?”

“Good as any other man, I reckon. We grew up around them on the farm.”

“And where would that be? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”

He shook his head. “No, sir. We’re from England.”

The burly man blinked. “What the hell are you doin’ here in Geneva?”

“Just looking for fortune in a new country, I reckon.”

“You got any family waitin’ for ya somewhere?”

Charles averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “No, sir,” he uttered past the sudden lump in his throat. He gestured to himself and his brother. “We’re all that’s left.”

The giant stable master bowed his head. “Sorry to hear that.”

A silence wedged itself between the three men. The dapple-gray mare sighed and swished her long tail.

The man cleared his throat loudly and held out his hand to Charles. “I’m Dave McCallister. Nice to meet you.”

He shook the stable master’s hand. “It’s a pleasure, sir. I’m Charles Conway.” He gestured to his brother and added, “This is Peter.”

"You Look Like Dad"

Pencil on 11" x 14" paper

He shuffled over to the dresser, poured water from the vase into the basin, and washed his face. Water tricked down his throat and bare chest as he straightened up and looked at himself in the mirror. He blinked; time and tribulation had hardened him into someone he barely recognized. He studied the strong, masculine jaw, the heavy brow, the sagacious brown eyes. He ran a hand over his long hair and scratched his thickening beard and mustache.

Lowering his gaze, he looked at his bare torso with satisfaction at the cords of muscle along his arms and chest and the hair that flecked them. Giving himself one last look, he turned away from the mirror and walked back to the edge of the bed. He stopped and looked at Peter with a cocked eyebrow when he noticed his brother observing him.

"What are you gawking at?"

"It's just...Well, you...you look like Dad."

"Orphans of the Prairie"

Pencil on 11" x 14" paper

Out of the crisp afternoon sun and sea of prairie grass rode two brothers. Their horses walked at a slow, lumbering pace, their heads hung low and their paint coats caked in dust and dried sweat. The incessant wind howled and whirled across the grassland, battering the young men and their mounts with a strong southern gust.

"Damn this bloody wind," cursed the older brother. The gust clawed at his shoulder-length brown hair, tangling it further and adding to the dust already coating it. He ducked his head and tugged his chocolate gambler hat down his head; his patchy mustache and beard brushed the soiled collar of his navy button-up shirt and tan jacket. His mahogany eyes glanced down; his frown deepened at the sight of his grimy umber pants. He brushed off his thighs and grumbled as a cloud of dust erupted from the fabric and was swept away by the wind.

"Aye, does it ever stop?" his little brother hollered beside him.

"I reckon not, Peter."

Peter tucked his head down as well, his azure eyes squinted and brow furrowed. His sandy blonde hair, slightly shorter than his brother's, was now brown from the dirt it had collected; his tan fedora hat, emerald button-up shirt, brown jacket, and tan pants bore a similar sullied tone.

"Where are we going, Charles?"

"West, you dolt."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I mean, where are we headed?"

Charles shrugged. "How the hell should I know? We've never been to Nebraska!"

"Well, there must be a town somewhere."

Charles fell silent as he looked around. He pursed his chapped lips; an angry frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Perhaps we should turn back?"

"Temptation"

Pencil on 11" x 14" paper

"Legacy"

Oil on 11" x 14" panel

Hey, ya'll! Like everything else in life, I'm a late bloomer, and I'm new to Tumblr, so I'd thought I'd take a moment to introduce myself.

My name is Cortney. I'm a traditional artist specializing in pencil drawing as well as oil and acrylic painting. If you'd like to commission me for work or you're just interested in seeing my work, my website is here: Cortney Elznic Art

I'm a writer, an avid animal lover, and an adventure seeker who loves to hike and horseback ride.

I'm a big fan of Red Dead Redemption, so much so that I have written a fan fiction, which can be read here: Scribblez09 - Wattpad or here: Scribblez09 | Archive of Our Own

"The Scream"

Acrylic on 16" x 20" canvas - Original is sold.

In loving memory of Chester Bennington.

"One More Light"

Pencil and charcoal on 8" x 10" paper - $80

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"What The Cluck?"

Pencil on 11" x 14" paper

Here I am with one of my (late) chickens Chickadee China. She was the sweetest chook and loved hanging out with me. I miss and love you, my sweet darling.

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Pencil on 11" x 14" paper

Here's my goat Vincent van Goat and my horse Flash grazing together; they're the best of friends and my good boys.

"Tomcat Tamer"

Pencil and charcoal on 11" x 14" paper - Original is sold

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Pencil on 8 1/2" x 11" paper

Here's my kitties Arya, Mya, and Bridget piled up together for a nap.

"Just A Trim"

Pencil on 8 1/2" x 11" paper - Original is sold

My farrier trimming up one of my friends' horse. He's the best at what he does, and he does a damn good job. Treat your farriers well, horse people!