Bonds in the West
He had a bag over his face.
The girl could see that from where she was positioned, angling the lever-action rifle to aim down the sights. She knew that although this wasn't his first time with that black-cloth bag over his face, he was probably far more concerned about the long hangman's noose around his neck.
The pastor was preaching the usual sermon; 'God have mercy on your soul' and whatnot. But this mattered little. So long as she tried her best, she wouldn't have to worry about losing her best friend to a hangman's noose.
Or was he…more…?
She had long hoped that she meant as much to him.
Well, given what she was doing to save him, this should be the catalyst act that would show him that she was willing to risk her own neck for him. Pun intended.
Wait a minute…
Was that Dirty Ian doing the hanging?
She was tempted to aim her rifle instead at the irate rancher, but she had to save her significant other in the red flannel shirt. By the way he was fidgeting, he was probably unworried about his fate; it said a lot about his character.
"Do you have any last requests?"
The youth in the red flannel shirt sounded like he grinning, although it would be hard to tell due to the fact that his head was covered by the black-cloth bag. "Could I use the bathroom real quick? I don't want to die, only to piss my pants. Wouldn't look good on the gravestone, y'know!" His hands were tied behind his back, a bag over his face, a knot around his neck…why was he so cheeky and relaxed? Suicidal perhaps? Putting on a brave show to hide his fear while he stood on 10-feet high platform?
"Shut up!" Ian yelled. "You done rustled my cows for the last time!"
Everyone who crowded around the hanging podium erupted in cries and boos of displeasure. It was still hard to tell why they were doing so: whether it was the fact that a youth so young was to be hung, or the fact that he was rustling (stealing) cows. Morals of death penalty on a 'child' versus making an honest living. As usual. The blonde teen holding the ten-pound Winchester 1873 rifle didn't care which. She merely waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Ian yanked on the support switch, letting the platform give way beneath the youth's feet to let him fall and break his neck via hanging. The girl holding the rifle's felt her breath hitch in her throat tightly, as if she was the one getting hanged. She pulled hard on the trigger, letting the bullet bite through the rope on where it was tied on the top beam. The rope was torn easily as the red youth with the rope around his neck was too heavy to support by mere threads, and he fell jarringly on the ground below the platform. The rifle's shot echoed through the town, and all the civilians started running and ducking to find cover, save for Ian who looked around sharply, trying to find the source of the mayhem.
Still satisfied with her work, she hefted the rifle while she yanked on the lever-action to re-chamber another round, all while getting to her horse to mount it. Her foot sought for the stirrup, and she got on, already urging her brown feral horse forward towards the lone figure stumbling from under the platform while she securely placed her rifle in its scabbard on the horse's side. "Alvin?!" She yelled as she closed her distance to him. "You all right?!"
"Doggone it, I can barely see through this thing!" The now-named Alvin cried as he tripped while trying run, not to mention keep his bladder from leaking. "I knew you'd come, Brittany, although I was hoping I wouldn't be disappointed!"
"Well, someone's gotta keep your sorry ass from getting hanged!" Brittany yelled back as she brought the horse to a stop once she got close to him. Suddenly, movement caught her eyes, only to spot Ian removing a revolver from his side holster, already bringing it up to aim at Alvin. "Roll outta the way!"
Trusting her completely, he rolled from where he was, narrowly avoiding the .22 caliber of Ian's bullet. Said bullet kicked up the dust from where it hit the ground, but in the time it took Ian to palm his hammer back on his gun to fire another shot, Brittany drew her revolver from her own pistol holster and shot wildly at the man. Ian flinched and ducked aside in fear of being hit, unknowingly giving her time to jump down from her horse, hunting knife at the ready. The honed edge sliced through Alvin's bonds, allowing him to rip off the black cloth bag on his face. The western sun hurt his eyes a little, but he squinted against it. "Much obliged."
"Don't mention it." She placed the knife back in its own scabbard on her thigh before thumbing back the hammer her pistol to fire another wild shot at the barrel where Ian was hiding behind to keep him scared in hiding. "Now c'mon! Time's a wastin'!"
"You said it!" He jumped up onto her horse easily, already prepared to take off. "Aren't you coming?"
The girl with the pink bandanna around her neck looked upset. "Just who the hell do you think you are, Alvin?! Nobody rides Big Boy but me!"
"Then how the hell am I supposed to get away, huh? Run across the hellish desert with nothing else 'cept for the clothes on my back?"
"You're backseat, not the fore-rider!" She yelled back. Alvin shrugged in his carefee manner which made her stamp her foot in frustration, before an unkind idea came to her mind. "Big Boy! Buck 'im off!"
The horse whinnied before rearing up on its hind legs, throwing Alvin off while he screamed girlishly before he hit the ground. "What the hell?!"
"I said 'BACKSEAT'!" Brittany yelled as she got on her feral horse when he settled. "Now you can get on." Alvin grumbled to himself as he rubbed his aching back as he struggled to get on the horse behind the blond teen. "What did you just say?!"
"I said 'I landed on a rock'!"
"Serves you right!" Brittany harrumphed before digging her spurs into Big Boy's side, stirring the horse into action. "Hyah!"
Alvin rolled his eyes at her theatrics as Big Boy took off, the horse already speeding like a four-legged bullet. He chanced a look behind him, only to see Ian cursing profanity as he reached for a shotgun he'd had close by. "Brittany!" He yelled, unintentionally into her ear.
"Ow! What is it?!"
"Run in zig-zags! He's got a scatter-gun!"
Brittany's eyed widened when she heard that, but she took too long to react. Although at a far distance, far-reaching buckshots of the gun found them. One embedded itself in the horse's rump, stimulating it to try to run even faster. Another buckshot buzzed past her ear. The third found her passenger, making him cry out in pain.
"Aggh!" He had been holding her waist to support himself, and his right hand left it, alerting her even more that he was hurt badly, maybe even fatally. She started to slow down, but he quickly noticed. "Don't stop! Keep…going!"
"But-"
"Just keep moving! Don't STOP!" His right hand returned to her waist, and it was with creeping horror that she realized that it was reddened with blood…
=X=X=
He fell off the horse ungracefully, landing in a crumpling heap on the ground below. Brittany spared no time in getting off as well, already tending to him. "Where's the wound?" She asked worriedly as she checked him over.
"My side," he groaned. He didn't say anything as she quickly undid his red-shirt. Upon doing so, she realized that she never knew how bad it was until he removed his red shirt. "Just dig out the buckshot. And give me a rag. Don't hold back with that knife, 'cause you might make it worse-"
"I know!"
"And make sure to boil water to sterilize the-"
"I know!"
"And don't forget that I love-"
"I KNOW!"
"Oh…" He went quiet. "I didn't know that you knew that I love you. Do you love me too?"
Brittany did a double-take. That was what his last question would've been? "Um…aww, just shut up!" She stuffed the rag into his mouth before she dug the knife into the wound and started picking out the bullet, ignoring his screaming grunts. By the time it was all over, Alvin grinned a pained smile as she bandaged his side by wrapping the cloth around his waist.
"Can I take that as a yes?"
"You mean what I did today to save your hide isn't proof enough for you?"
"It'd be nice to hear you say it."
"Anybody can say it." She knelt down beside where he sat up to look him in the eyes. "You know that a lot of people can throw those words around."
"So you don't love-" he was silenced as Brittany closed the gap between them to press her lips against hers. It was nothing spectacular and showy if anyone were looking on, but Alvin felt…more at peace while having her soft lips pressed against his as she leaned in against him. He had been fronting in the 'friend-zone' for far too long, and he felt the dam against his feelings break apart when her tongue entered his mouth. It wasn't a battle fought-…it was a wonderful example of give and take as each sought to have a piece of the other to make forever theirs, and nothing would ever rend them apart from each other again.
They soon had to belay when Alvin ran out of air, Brittany unwilling let him unwrap his arms to ease her out of his embrace. With a wry, pained smile that indicated that he was up to mischief, Alvin spoke. "Could I get another kiss for my boo-boo?"
"Nope." She got up and started to make a fire and set up camp; it was getting late, and Big Boy needed attention too. "What are we going to tell the others back at the ranch?"
"That I nearly got hanged again, I've got the eighth bullet in me to add to my collection, and that we're getting hitched."
"We're getting married?!" Brittany boggled. "We're only seventeen years old!"
"Geez, what took us so long?" Alvin replied with a twinkle in his eye.
And done. Hey, Ilovechips4ever, now you know about the 'West' option that I gave you. This idea was in my head a lot. Anyway, thanks for reading. Also, for those people who read 'Ill: Evil's definition', in case I didn't make it clear enough, it was a one-shot. (JUST A SINGLE CHAPTER). Just like this one. But since you're looking forward to a conclusion to it, I'll see if I can do something about that. But that's after 'AATC: Territory' and 'Of Dreams and Truth' both get updates. Later, maybe by the weekend I can do an update for something. In the meantime, I've got to go make a cover image Photoshop for this fic. Take care.
Valete omnes,
MRAY 4TW.