Disclaimer: I do not own Young Guns
This is my re-written verison of one of my older stories.
Summary: What happened after Pat Garrett thought he shot and killed Billy The Kid. This is a continuation of Blood Money.
A vehicle sped on dirt road, stopping quickly kicking up dust as it did. The driver side door opened to reveal a man in a clean pressed suit who went by the name of Charles Phalen. Making his way up dirt hill slipping here and there until he reached the top. He stopped as he stood by the elderly man, "Henry McCarty?" He asked.
The old man laughed, "Henry McCarty. Son, I haven't gone by that name in years. I go by William H. Bonney alias Billy The Kid."
Charles smirked, "Sure, well I'm Charles Phalen the lawyer you asked for." He held out his hand for a greeting. He got none.
Billy looked Charles dead in the eye, "You don't believe me do you?"
Charles laughed, "No I don't, Billy The kid shot and killed 21 men and he was shot and killed by Pat Garrett. Everybody knows that, it's common knowledge."
Billy shook his head getting irritated, "There are other lawyers around, you piece of chicken shit. Get back in the vehicle of your's and drive before I make it 22 just for the goddamn hell of it!" Billy was about to up and leave until Charles stopped his by placing his hands on the elder man's shoulders, "Okay wait, if your really Billy The Kid show me some scars or better yet tell me how he or you managed to get out alive against Pat Garrett."
Billy sighed as he placed himself back in his spot, "Well son I think you better sit your ass down this is going to be a long story" He cleared his throat about to tell his story, the memories came floating back to him.
Pat Garrett sat alone in his own eaten' place, titled Garrett's Place. Just like he wanted.
It was a Sunday none ever really came in on a Sunday. Suddenly the doors swung opened as a man who looked to be about in his early twenties walked in, looking like he just walked through a sand storm.
"Ya opened?" He asked in a low voice.
Pat couldn't see his face due to the fact that his hat was pulled down over half of his face.
Pat stood from his spot, "Yeah but I don't have much." Walking behind the bar he grabbed a glass and filled it with whisky.
The young man took the glass from Pat's hand as he sat himself at the bar, "Thank ya kindly." He downed the whisky as fast as it came.
Pat refilled it, he then turned an poured some stew into a bowl handing it over to the stranger. He downed the food as if it was the first real meal he had in years. "Hey are you Pat Garrett? You know the one that shot Billy The Kid?" The man asked downing the second glass of whisky.
Pat smirked, "That would be me." He downed his own glass of whisky.
The man smiled, "Could I see the gun that done the kid in?"
Pat gave him a look but handed over his gun anyways, "Be careful with it, she's my favorite." Pat said.
"So tell me about the kid." The man asked playing with the gun by aiming it at random things around the place.
Pat shook his head, "Not much to tell that people haven't heard."
"Really, nothing at all" He asked aiming the gun at Pat.
By this point Pat was annoyed, "No, now give the gun back before you hurt someone."
The man laughed. A very familiar laugh.
"Jeez Patsy, its like you don't know me at all."
Pat's breath caught in his throat, "Billy how the hell-"
Billy pulled off his hat, "How the hell what Patsy. How I got out of the grave or how I'm alive?" He held Pat at gun point. Now that Pat had a better look, he saw that Billy's shoulder was covered in dry blood and dirt.
Billy smiled big, as he laughed, "You missed my head Patsy, you only got my shoulder. I let them bury me Pat, and I waited long enough to dig myself out so I wouldn't have any of your men tracking me."
Pat looked at Billy, his voice was low as he spoke, "Why are you here kid? To kill me is that it?"
Billy shook his head, "No Pat, I could never kill ya, I just want you to remember Pat, that you'll never be me." He started. "You'll always be the man who thought he shot and killed Billy the Kid and that I made ya famous." he then smiled, "Oh and I'm taking my gun back." He placed the gun that was in his hands in the holster attached to his belt. He then grabbed his hat and put it back in its spot on top of his head, turning on his heel and walking towards the door, only to stop at the sound of Pat's voice.
"You be killed out there Billy and this time it won't be me."
Billy slightly turned his head, "Well that's the chance I'm willing to take, Big Casino." He then walked out the door.
Pat shook his head with a little smirk placed on his lips, "Good luck Little Casino, you crazy sonuvabitch."
"Then what happened?" Charles asked amazed by the story.
Billy smirked, "I stole his horse and took off."
Charles looked at the elder Billy confused, "That's it you, stole his horse and let him live? I thought you hated him for betraying you?"
Billy laughed, "I never stole a horse from someone I didn't like. Did I like him? Hell no; I loved the son of a bitch." He took moment. "You asked me if I have scars? Yessir, I have my scars and they will stay with me for the rest of my life reminding me of my past and of the ones who I lost and the ones I let live." Billy stood then, grabbing the reigns on his horse and started to make his way like he always done.
Charles stood yelling for Billy, "Henry?! Billy! Where are you going?!" Billy never turned or answered him he just kept walking.
No ones knows of what became of Billy The Kid after that. Most just say he died out there in the land he traveled on for most of his life. Others say he's still alive, waiting for his pals to return, to once again ride along side each other.
"Yoohoo, I'll make ya famous"