this is set in the second movie, right before Pat Garret "kills Billy" at the end. ergo the title.
it is very likely that i will never add to this story because there are too many happy and new opportunities to write new ideas. still there may be things i will tweak in it. (i'm not satisfied with the ending)
no, i don't own anything, not really even Violet, she's just a shadow of a character...dash it all!
i think that's all i could possibly say, and now that you all are bored to death, -dramatic drum roll- i'll shut up.
Forty minutes ago I watched him enter that house with her. I counted every one of those minutes. Perhaps forty would be the number of bullets I would embed in his stomach, perhaps forty would be the number of days i would make him suffer before using those bullets. Forty and who knew how many more years would be how long I would be broken for the Kid.
In a fever that crowned my head with hurt, fear, and anger I waited for Billy. And he came. He came with the gall to not bring his shirt or even his guns. I was not met with I was not met with his typical catchphrase. "I'll make ya famous!" No, when I stepped out of the shadows with both my guns loaded and aimed for his gut, he simply looked at me.
"Well, William H.—" I couldn't finish because I saw the tears in his blue eyes.
"I thought you were dead." He sounded like the words were stuck in his throat.
My lip curled up. Spinning my pistol so the grip lined my knuckles, I took two steps forward and punched Billy below his left eye. He reeled backwards. My left gun remained pointed at his innards. Blood ran down his cheek.
"How long?" I screamed. His girl appeared at the door and I fired into it, hitting nothing. She disappeared. "How long did you mourn me? How long did you believe me dead before bedding that whore?"
I intended to say more but tears were in my own eyes now and his arms were wrapped around me.
"Let go!" His head was planted in my neck. Tears and blood from his cheek mingled in my shirt. I stomped my foot. "You can't do this! You can't just have anything you want - I won't let you!"
My gun pressed into his side.
"They're dead, Vi. Doc and Chavez are dead." The words were whispered in my neck. "They're dead. I thought you were gone, Vi, I thought you were dead."
Both my guns hit the ground and I held him. The fever lifted from me and I was left instead with the nausea of disbelief.
"No." I choked. Doc and Chavez were like brothers to me. Doc was one of the most intelligent men I had ever known and Chavez one of the wisest. They were with us from the start. "No."
"I thought you were dead." He whispered again. Billy kissed my hair.
"No, they're not dead." I wept. My head rested on his shoulder and his hand stroked my hair. We rocked.
He kissed my ear with an easy kindness that he never had before. Billy was always fiery in past kisses.
I pulled back, shaky. "I'm sorry." I said.
There were no more tears in his eyes. He kissed me with his eyes open and looking into mine as I sobbed. Pausing he bent. His cheek pressed against mine own, his eyelashes caressed it. His blood mixed with the dirt on my face.
We stood swaying in that street until my tears ebbed. Billy stooped and retrieved my pistols from the dusty ground. He placed one in my holster and took the other back in the house with him. He returned with his own guns and his shirt. I remained quite still and breathed raggedly.
"I was going to kill you." I sighed, as he handed me my second pistol.
"I would have made ya famous." I managed a smile, there was the catchphrase.
"Better me than Pat." I watched as Billy glanced up at me from dressing. "He's in town. I intended to get you before he did."
"Well, in that case, we'd better just get." He said, taking me by the waist and kissing me. Then he took my hand and we snuck to the stables.
We stole Pat's horse that night and rode out of New Mexico. I stayed at a church while he went back to deal with Pat. I didn't follow him that time. I had more than my own safety to care for.
The papers said they were both dead a month later, and Billy returned to me yipping about how much those papers exaggerate.