#corbenik posts

The vast stretch of farmland unfolds before Jesse McCree's honey colored eyes as he rises to begin his day, his shaggy, chestnut hair still somewhat messy from sleep.  The grounds outside are lightly frosted in the late March sunlight. He immediately grabs his lighter, places a cigarette between his lips, and smokes as he goes about his morning routine. He turns on the water for his shower, and while he waits for it to warm up he slips on a coat and boots to fetch the morning paper. Jesse had this routine down to the last second, knowing exactly when his aging shower would be the perfect temperature. His cigarette lasts long enough for him to walk to the mailbox and back. The burnt butt of the cigarette just manages to make it to the ceramic ashtray sitting outside of the front door on the porch. Toeing his boots off inside the door, Jesse sheds the coat and skims the newspaper as he makes his way back upstairs to lay his clothes out for the day. By the time he finishes reading the front page, he strips off his plain white t-shirt and washed-out navy lounge pants.

    Once he steps into the shower the hot water glides over Jesse's tired body, tracing old scars and soothing sore muscles. Most of his old scars were from his early days in the Deadlock Gang where the older members would often torment the new recruits. Sometimes someone might put a cigarette out on skin, other times someone might get drunk and draw a knife. Jesse couldn’t remember anymore how or why he had gotten most of the marks that dotted his skin, and most of time he didn’t care to. The sore muscles came from more recent work on the farm. Not having much mechanical help made everything he had to do a little bit harder, especially since Jesse was approaching 40. His back always seemed to hurt and his joints were aching with the onset of arthritis, but the hot showers everyday made his body feel better at least for a little while. They were some of the few moments of peace that Jesse was able to have where he could let his mind wonder. While he was actually working he had to concentrate on giving proper care to his animals, his dwindling orders from customers in town, the slow decline of his farm… No he doesn’t want to think about that now. When the shower starts to cool he turns the water off, hesitating to start his day in earnest.

    Jesse towels himself dry in the bathroom, hanging his towel back on the rack before he saunters back into the bedroom. He has his usual clothes laid out on the bed: washed out American flag print boxers, ragged blue jeans, and a brown button-up shirt. He mechanically dresses himself and finishes the ensemble with his BAMF belt. The belt was another holdover from his days in the Deadlock gang and for some reason he couldn’t convince himself to get rid of it. However, it always gave his customers a good chuckle when he delivers supplies to them. Jesse wears chaps as well when he works on the farm, but he usually waits until right before he leaves the house to put them on as they aren’t the most comfortable. When he finishes dressing, he is in the state of mind he needs to be in to make the farm work. Jesse has slowly been losing customers because he simply cannot meet their demands for produce and meat by himself. Now mentally ready to face the day he heads downstairs to make himself some breakfast to get him through the first half of the busy day.

    He's enjoying his last sip of coffee as he gathers up his dirty dishes and places them in the kitchen sink. Jesse was going to rely on the caffeine for the next few months because his small herd of cows were on the brink of calving and crops needed to be planted. He sighed, exiting the humble two story farmhouse, which was in desperate need of repairs, draped in his fading red serape.

    The farmhouse had been bought after he had left the Deadlock Gang almost twenty years ago. Then, it had been fairly new, but the years had not been kind to it. It also didn't help that Jesse didn't have a whole lot of money lying around since he had left a very lucrative occupation and settled for a safer, less illegal way of life after a close encounter of the Fed kind. In the beginning the house had almost been too much for a young man who had had almost nothing during the course of his life. The house had been sparsely furnished and decorated with only the essentials: on old couch he grabbed that was headed for the landfill, a kitchen table and chairs he bought at a discount store, and a few lamps he found stashed away in the attic. The only thing Jesse allowed himself to splurge on was the bed. He had slept in hard cots or two-size-too-small beds all his life. Jesse used a large amount of his saved money to buy a king-sized bed that was as soft as down feathers, and he still thought that bed was the best damn purchase he'd ever made. Like anyone who lives in a place for a long period of time, he had steadily accumulated odds and ends to fill his house. In its current state, he had more furniture a single man who hardly had company would ever need and a ton of junk he had been given or just found at some point.