Here is my Pinterest | Here is my Spotify | Discord is elsiefae | Side is @forest-cradel
Greetings! I am an English girl of 19 who you may call Elsie 🥰
I post all things relating to Western era outlaws and cowboys as well as bushrangers too! Most of my posts are archival posts for promotional photographs and some newspaper clippings but I will be posting the occasional fic here too ☺️
The interest I have in outlaws and western history started at an incredibly young age thanks to my lovely grandfather who had me watching western films all the time and practically taught me to read using western and outlaw history books and now, I am quite a bit older than a child but still love all things western and outlaws. One of my comfort shows is The Rifleman starring the handsome Chuck Connors 💞
Some of my favourite outlaws, cowboys and bushrangers are William Bonney, Ab Saunders, Tom Folliard, George Palmer, Dick Brewer, Bob Dalton and Johnny Gilbert.
Some of my favourite musicians are Daniel Lanois, Sons Of The Pioneers, Vera Lynn, Lorne Greene, Gracie Fields, The Ink Spots, Adelaide Hall, Bill Callahan, Henry Hall, Elsie Carlisle, Al Bowlly and Akira Yamaoka.
I would also like to state that my private messages as well as my ask box are always open for those who wish to chatˏ be friends or ask me questions about things! I love to talk 💕 all I ask is that minors please do not message me! You are more than free to interact with my posts and such but please do not message me and such.
Right beneath this little cut, you can find my curated music playlist for outlaws and cowboys.
Figured I should make a masterlist for all of my little western fics sooner rather than later ☺️ this list will be updated with each and every new fic that I post in the future.
The Homestead | Last Train To Fortune
Jedidiah Dooley x reader + OC! daughter
💭 | whilst escorting Cecil, Jedidiah has to check in on something important to him.
Okay forgive my rambling here but Bob Dalton coming home to his little cabin farm wife reader on the regular and as much as he can 🥺
He would come home whenever he can and stay for as long as possible. His brothers know fine well not to bother or intrude on him when he goes home to his wife unless it is something serious and important that cannot be addressed at a later time. He would get so frustrated if they ever came to the cabin looking for him for something that could have been done at a later time but he would not ever let you see his simmering anger. Bob would wait a moment for you to retreat back inside the cabin before looking his brother dead in the eye and telling them to leave as his hand hovers over his hip holster.
Of course he would never truly pull a gun on his own blood - unless they threatened or insulted you - but the itch in his hand is there for the sole reason that they intruded on his time with you; his precious time with you of which he knows - but never admits - could be the last. The time he spends with you is more important than any law man or bank to him. You are more important than any law man or bank to him. He loves his brothers but his home with you is almost like a whole different world for Bob. It is his escape and his other life. It is the life that he wants and has to protect the most. That illusion kind of snaps in half when one of his brothers appears on the porch. That life is threatened when one of his partners in crime crosses the threshold.
The ride home he takes when he splits off from his brothers to come home to you is always the quickest ride of his life. He almost seems to ride faster to get back to his wife than he does to get away from the law and their firing guns. You will hear the fast galloping of hooves thumping toward the cabin before you even spot him. Bob will hang up most of his gun equipment inside the cabin when he arrives but he tends to keep his hip holder on at the very least because he does not want to risk having nothing on him if someone stumbles across the cabin.
He loves nothing more than hitching his horse beside the porch and lifting you up into his arms to twirl you around as you come out to meet him 🥺 he is quick to take his hat off and place it atop your head instead of his own as he leans down to plant his very first deep homecoming kiss on your lips. Most of your time at the cabin is spent sitting outside when it is warm enough; the two of you sit together beneath the apple tree that stands beside the wooden home. Bob will pick the occasional apple for you when the season is right and cut small slices from it to feed you as you lay back against his chest between his legs.
The night would be spent in the small bedroom of the cabin. Bob lights the fireplace using some small wooden logs that he himself chopped and stored for you. He would hold you against his chest in the creaky bed and murmur promises into your hair about how he will take you away from it all soon and how there will come a day when he never has to leave you for days on end. Deep down both of you know that the promises are nothing more than distant dreams for the two of you. The two of you know that the law will never let up and the chances of him being able to walk away from it all unscathed are close to none. But the dreams are a warm and bittersweet thing that neither of you are able to give up.
Bob gives such cabin husband feels is all. He would crumble with a wife who has fresh apple pies and stew waiting for him whenever he comes home 😭 he feels so very domestic to me beneath it all.
This place is so very special to me. Whenever I need time to breathe and be alone, I come here. This place is also where I spent the unknowing last evening with my beautiful dog before she passed on the following morning. The mute swans are almost always here as well as the sheep in the opposite field by the church too. There is nothing more peaceful than sitting in the grass by the river and watching the world go by for a while. Swans are a favourite being of mine! They are so ethereal and my grandmother has always said that they are people coming to visit you after passing on.
The lack of general creativity in most modern country music is so disheartening and heartbreaking to me because this genre used to have some of the most creative and wonderful lyrical and even instrumental storytelling about outlaws, cowboys, frontier figures, gunslingers and folklore and now most of it is about nothing other than boobs, beer and trucks so much of it is so soulless, mediocre and downright unlistenable.
Where on earth is the Last Train To Fortune fandom?! I am so sick of this 😫 It is such a wonderful little modern western film with so much charm and it deserves far more love in my opinion.
Please watch it! This films deserves a fandom around it!
Congratulations to The Rider film from 2018 for being able to make me cry multiple times throughout the film despite having re-watched it multiple times at this point 🙃 never gets easier.
I need to know if there is even a fandom around this beautiful film at all because I have so many different thoughts on Brady and so many little headcanons for him 💔
💭 | whilst escorting Cecil, Jedidiah has to check in on something important to him.
Re-watched this wonderful little film for some comfort this week and felt the urge to write some fluff for Jedidiah. To be honest, I have no idea how big the fandom for this film is at all but if you even take the time to read this, thank you! I am still trying so hard to better my writing skills and I hope this is at least readable 🥰 any advice on writing southern accents is more than appreciated 🙃 I do not think a canon age was ever given to Jedidiah but I headcanon him to be around 20 - 22.
The autumn air blows a calm breeze that rustles the towering pine trees surrounding the small, secluded cabin. The atmosphere is quiet; broken only by the sounds of birds chirping and fragile twigs snapping beneath the feet of distant woodland wildlife.
You stand on the porch, leaning your side against one of the log pillars supporting the wooden awning overhead. The sun is beginning to come to a slow set, shining through the thick woodland and casting golden light strands across your face. Your lips part with a content sigh as you breathe in the fresh air, letting the gentle wind brush against your warm skin.
The sound of a quiet, curious coo breaks you from your moment of silent enchantment. Your smile widens as you look down. Held comfortably on your hip with her head resting upon your shoulder and one of her hands tangled in the ends of your hair is little one year old Meadow. Except, she is not looking back at you. You follow her wide eyed gaze and chuckle when you spot what it is that has entranced her. In one of the trees closest to the cabin, a squirrel is running along one of the long branches. The hasty, agile movement of the tiny animal is clear through the sparse, dry autumn leaves.
For a moment, your smile falters and your heart pangs with a familiar, light ache as you watch her. Jedidiah has not returned home yet. Of course, you knew what you were signing up for when you let your love for him take charge. You know it is almost impossible for him to remain at home, with you and Meadow, all of the time. Not when he is an outlaw with a price on his head and bounty hunters on his trail. You know that he wants it as much as you do. Yet, the sting of loneliness and the strength of his absence still pricks at you at certain times. The ache is the strongest at times like this, times with Meadow as she grows more and more with each passing day of him being somewhere out on the lonely trail.
Quickly, you push the pain aside, shaking your head and curve your lips with a small, bittersweet smile.
“What is itˏ Meadow?” You coo quietly, bouncing the one year old on your hip with a soft rhythm. Before she can even give a babble in response, a new sound splits through the air. The unmistakable sound of horse hooves closing in toward the cabin steal the attention of Meadow and make you glance back at the loaded rifle that sits upright on the porch rocking chair behind you. With a slow but sure pace, you tighten your hold on Meadow and begin to inch backwards, instinctively preparing yourself with practiced ease.
Then, a familiar black horse rounds the thickness of the trees and brush. Your heartbeat begins to regulate once more as you focus in on the figure in the saddle. Jedediah sits tall atop the horse, one of his hands is in the midst of fixing his hat on his head from the breeze as his blue eyes scan the trees around him with a protective focus. Your face lights up right as Meadow releases a loud, excited squeal at the sight of her father returning home again. Jedidiah snaps his attention to the porch as soon as the high pitched sound reaches his ears.
Upon the sight of you and Meadow, his lips immediately curl upwards into a soft grin that shines even from afar. “Well, lookie here.” He announces, his voice covered with a thick, audible veil of awe and relief. He trots his horse a few steps closer before climbing down with ease. You step off the porch and rush across the short distance to meet him halfway as he walks with his mount. “Jedidiah!” You exclaim. He drops the reins, wrapping both of his long arms around you and Meadow as you all but crash into his chest.
“Woah now, baby… ‘m alright - promised you I would be, did I not?” He chuckles, resting his chin atop your head. “Missed you so much, sweetheart.” He murmurs, planting a lingering kiss to your soft hair. His calloused hands rub your back through your dress blouse; a silent message or reassurance and understanding. “I missed you too, Jed. We both did.” You breathe, inhaling the signature scent of musk, campfire and dust that clings to his vest. “I wanted to come back home to you and the little one sooner, swear I did, but-” he casts a quick glance back at his horse. “Well, somethin’ got in the way of that is all but ‘m here now.” Jedidiah sighs an exhausted, heaving breath from the very depths of his chest that you feel release some tension beneath your head.
You furrow your brows, leaning back from his chest with peaked interest and swirling confusion. You glance over his shoulder and it is only then that you notice the new, unfamiliar addition sitting on his horse. “Who is that, Jed?” You question, perplexed at the general appearance and presence of the older man. Jedidiah never dares to bring people with him to the cabin in order to keep you and Meadow hidden and safe.
The unknown man loudly clears his throat once he realises that he has captured your attention. He grasps the heavy leather saddle for leverage as he climbs down from the horse, standing beside the towering beast. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam.” His accent glides through the air with a tone of polite impatience. “I do not mean to interrupt this quite touching tableau but shall we be stopping here for long?” He enquires.
Jedidiah groans, tilting his head back and closing his eyes with unmasked irritation before turning his head to look back at the older man. “We’re stayin’ here for the night, old man. ‘s gettin’ too dark to continue on now.” He explains, his drawl thickening with moodiness before he turns back to you with an exasperated expression.
“This stiff old thing is Mr Cecil Peachtree. He’s a school teacher from old London. He missed his train so I uhˏ I reckon ‘m takin’ him on down to Fortune.” He explains, shifting on his feet. The spurs on his boots replicate the sound of a musical wind chime with the sudden movement.
You choke a laugh, shifting a quietly babbling Meadow on your hip and arching an eyebrow as you study the schoolteacher up and down. “It is quite the strange pleasure to meet you too, Mr Peachtree.” You turn your gaze back to Jedidiah with a teasing smirk. “You, escorting a school teacher… oh, I have seen it all now, Mr Dooley.” Meadow reaches out, taking ahold of the striped bandana hanging down from his neck.
“Awh, don’t you go teasin’ me now, missy. We made a deal, him and I. Believe me, I ain’t doin’ it for nothin’.” He grins, a dusting of soft rose pigment spreading across his sun-kissed face as he leans down, lifting Meadow from your hip and settling her on his own with ease. “Come to your daddy, darlin’.” Almost immediately, he begins to press a scattering of light, ticklish kisses across her cherub face, whispering sweet coos to her as she giggles and grasps onto the ends of his slightly greasy hair. “Of course you did. Well then, come inside.” You smile at the sight, gesturing back toward the small wooden cabin with a nod of your head. “I put some stew on a little while back, should be about ready now.”
Jedidiah lights up, his blue eyes sparkling in a way that replicates the very same look that little Meadow had whilst watching the squirrel mere moments ago. “You are an angel, y’know that? ‘m starvin’. Come on thenˏ old man. ‘less you want the wolves to come and get’cha.” He teases, lowering his voice and bouncing Meadow on his hip as he follows you up into the cabin. Behind him, Cecil takes a hasty glance around at the surrounding rustling brush and blowing trees before hurrying on after like a stray sheep.
One hour later, you and Jedidiah have retreated to the small, cozy space of your private bedroom in the cabin. The sun has lowered further into the skin, hidden by the trees and mountains, plunging the cabin into late evening darkness. Stew has long since been eaten and Cecil had been shown to the spare cot beside the stone fireplace in the main room. He had taken to it with eager haste and fallen asleep within what seemed like mere seconds, no doubt exhausted from the sweltering desert heat and the encounters that had been made so far. Meadow is resting in her fur blanketed cot, somewhere in between a warm, milk doze and consciousness as she stares up at her homemade mobile.
You watch from the bed as Jedidiah places his hat and bandanna atop the chest of drawers before slipping his worn vest off with a quiet sigh relief. He shoves the dusty garment into the top drawer with one hand and uses the other to unbutton the top three buttons of his shirt. His gun belt is draped lazily across the wooden frame at the foot of the bed, the holster is detached and resting on the table next to his side of the bed with the loaded steel revolver still hidden inside. His suspenders are hanging loose down beside his skinny hips.
Glancing over at you, Jedidiah gives a tired, boyish grin when he catches you staring. “What’re you lookin’ at, baby?” He questions, approaching the bed and sitting down beside you on the edge. “You, my love. I missed you. I always miss you.” You smile. His own grin falters, the blue of his tired eyes dimming with a knowing melancholy. “I know, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his tone dipping low and quiet. “Missed you too, missed that little one over there. She’s gettin’ real big and smart too, like her mama.” He gestures toward Meadow in her crib with a solemn nod of his head.
His hand comes to stroke the hem of your chemise, fiddling with the few loose threads and allowing his calloused fingertips to graze the skin of your leg; a familiar soothing mechanism for him. “It ain’t right. I know it ain’t; leaving you and Meadow out here all alone… not bein’ here to watch her grow with you. I hate it, more than anything, I do.” His voice wavers, falling into the spilling of his true emotions and fragile vulnerability in the open moment. You place your hand over his on your chemise, stroking his rough knuckles in an attempt to comfort him as he shakes his head and clears his throat. “That deal I made with the old man… ‘s real good, baby. Should give us enough money to keep things out here steady for a fine while.” He explains, standing up from the bed and walking toward the crib.
Jedidiah stands with his back to you, resting his hands on the wooden frame of the crib and looking down at Meadow. She stares back at him with heavy lidded, half asleep eyes that harbour the very same colour of his own. Her brown hair shines in the soft candlelight of the bedroom like his own does. “I don’t care about money, Jedidiah.” You start, watching as he reaches down into the crib and lets Meadow wrap her small hand around his fingers. “All I want is for you to be safe. To come home and be here with us as much as you can. That is all what matters to me.” You finish.
Then, a shaky sigh spills from his lips. “It ain’t only the money.” You catch the way his hand tightens around the wooden frame of the crib. You can tell that something is eating at him. “What is it, Jed?” You ask. Your eyes soften with both slight worry and gentle curiosity. He keeps his back to you, dipping his head further with an overwhelming blanket of embarrassment. “I uh… well, I figured that maybe he could teach me how to read and write. ‘s quite a ride down to Fortune and, irritatin’ as he is, I want…” his voice drops into a quietness that is almost nothing more than a brushing whisper; so much so that you are almost unable to catch what it is that he says next. “I wanna be able to read to our little Meadow. She deserves better than a daddy who don’t know how to write, don’t even know how to read her a bedtime story.” He swallows thickly, completely unaware to the tears that are now threatening to spill from your eyes as you stare at the back of his head. “I wanna be able to write letters to you. Both of you deserve better, y’always have.” He finishes, his chest racking with a rattling exhale of emotion.
You have always known about this insecurity of his, even when he tried so hard to ignore it and bury it deep down within himself to act as though it did not exist; to act like the ignorant outlaw that the law thought him to be. It had grown stronger than ever with the birth of Meadow. He would watch you read from story books to her with a certain look in his eye that he would attempt to blink away once he caught you looking. “Oh, Jedidiah…” you breathe, feeling your heart tighten and swell with love for him. You rise from the bed, your bare feet padding across the woven rug covered floor as you approach him.
Jedidiah does not turn to you at first when you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your cheek against the expanse of his back. His hand falls from the crib and comes to hold one of your own. “I don’t want our little girl growin’ up thinkin’ her daddy is nothin’ but an ignorant outlaw. I wanna make her proud. I wanna make you proud.” He murmurs almost to himself rather than you, watching as Meadow closes her eyes and loses her grip on his hand, falling into a blissful sleep.
He turns around when he feels the wetness of your tears soaking through his shirt, wrapping his arms around your waist and slowly rocking you back and forth. “I am proud of you, Jed. I have never been anything other than proud of you.” You tilt your head and look up at him, watching the way his own glazed over eyes glisten in the dim candlelight. “And if this is what you want, if this is what will make you happy, then I will only be all the more proud.” You finish. Jedidiah exhales, a trembling and crumbling sound as a stray tear slips down his cheek. You reach up, wiping it away with your thumb and smile. He closes his eyes, leaning further into your gentle, comforting touch and rests his forehead against yours.
“Come to bed, my love. You need a proper rest.” You whisper, taking his hand and guiding him back to the bed. He climbs in beside you and immediately pulls you into his side, holding you against him with a protective firmness. “I gotta leave real early when the morning comes.” He murmurs. “I know.” You respond, pressing yourself further into the warmth of his body. “Should be back ‘fore the winter sets in proper though. You keep a lantern lit for me out on the porch, you hear?” He leans his head down, all but burying his nose into your hair and inhaling your scent as his soft facial hair tickles your scalp. “I hear you, Jed.” You plant a lingering kiss to the exposed skin of his chest through his unbuttoned shirt.
For a moment, neither of you speak a word. You hold each other in a comfortable silence, memorising the feeling of your arms around one another and the unbroken peace in the bedroom. Then, the silence is broken. “I love you, baby. Love you and the little one with everything’ I got, even if I ain’t got much.” He whispers into your hair right beside your ear. His lips press a soft peck to the side of your forehead.
You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest as you take in the unwavering loyalty and deep love that swirls in his eyes beneath his heavy lids. “You have yourself, Jed. You have your wonderful, beautiful and compassionate self. You have all that I could ever want or need, all that Meadow could ever want or need.” You lean up closer to his face until your lips are mere inches from his own as you hold his gaze. “I love you too, Jedidiah Dooley.” The dam breaks with unspeakable speed. He practically slams his lips against yours, moving his hand to cup your cheek in his palm. His thumb traces your skin as your lips move together in a slow, deep kiss that overflows with pent up passion and want for one another. Your hands come to tangle in the length of his brown hair, something that makes him let out a vibrating hum into your mouth as your tongues mingle.
His moustache tickles your upper lip as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss further. The feathery feeling causes you to laugh into his mouth, a hushed and breathy sound that makes him grin. You slowly pull back from the kiss and bring your hands out of his hair to rest on his shoulders instead. Jedidiah blindly chases after your lips, his eyes still closed before they flutter open to meet your gaze after you press your pointer finger to his lips. “Sleep, Mr Dooley. You must go to sleep if you want to set out early.” You tease, pulling your finger back and getting yourself comfortable against his chest again.
Jedidiah grumbles to himself, glaring at the bedroom wall where the schoolteacher is fast asleep on the other side, blissfully unaware of the turmoil he is causing for the younger man. “I swear, I oughta shoot him myself for takin’ my time away from you.” He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around you and settling into the bed. “You better not, Jedidiah. Meadow needs someone to read to her and I am getting tired of reading the same story books over and over again myself.” You sleepily mumble into his chest. You are already drifting into a half asleep state as his hands stroke your back and hips through your chemise.
The last thing you hear before falling into a peaceful slumber is Jedidiah. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that no more. ‘m gonna learn for the two of you, gonna read her all the books she ever wants…” he declares.
The audible determination and love in his tone makes your lips curve up into a small, tired smile right as you let the unforgiving claws of sleep sink their way into you.
