Homeward Bound: Chapter One
'Must you go?'
'You know I do, you know I can't let Jody down'
Sigh
'Don't keep me waiting forever you hear? Maybe I won't be here when you get back'
A smirk played on her lips, he knew damned well she'd wait as long as it took, she'd be right here waiting for him. She'd never give up on him, not after all they'd been through.
He flipped on his had, showing off which earned him a sarcastic scoff, her smile didn't last long though as a more serious expression settled on her face.
'You be careful, please?'
He stepped towards her and cupped her cheeks which were still cold from the bitter weather outside.
'You know I will' he stated softly in his slow gravelled tone and brought his lips to hers and held them there for a time. Once broken they stared at one another with a silent mutual acknowledgement of affection.
With a sigh he parted from her and walked out of the door, not looking back.
Grouch Douglass or known tonight as "Joe Gage" groaned in pain. He'd taken a fucking damn lashing tonight. He'd been injured before but never like this. He wasn't sure if he was dead or alive. With immense difficultly he righted himself and leaned against the chair nearest to him.
'Fuck'
Everyone was dead, from what he could gather anyway. He spied Daisy strung up like some pig at a local butcher. Her tongue was swollen and protruding from blackened lips, her skin was sallow and beginning to purple. It was obvious she'd been hanging for some time.
He followed the length of rope that held her in place, leading his eyes to the double bed. The nigger and the "Sheriff" were laying there, un-moving leaned against each other, their blood mixing.
'P-Pete? You, you f-fuckin' alive?' Joe managed to spit out, his voice sounded hoarser than usual. Silence was all that followed to his question. He could see Pete's legs and feet. His body was hidden behind the armchair, copious amounts of blood had pooled around him.
'Motherfucking fuck' he muttered under his breath. The rest of his gang was dead. He'd seen Jody's head get blown off by the Major. Nigger earlier and Bob had his head shot to pieces by the same man not long before.
He knew he was in trouble. The blizzard was still announcing itself outside the cabin, it's angry voice roaring and rattling through the loose boards of the cabin. He felt cold, cold from the loss of blood, cold from the same blood congealing on his skin and on his clothes.
Warmth, he needed warmth. He spied the fire, it was still alight but slowly dying with no one tending it. Cussing and hissing he slowly crawled to the hearth, painfully grabbing fresh logs and placing them onto charred ones, trying to stoke it.
'Arrggh...fuck...shit' He knew he was stuck here, at least until the blizzard passed. He was alone. He knew for damned sure there were no 15 men waiting for them at Red Rock, it was just some horse shit story Daisy had fed the nigger and the Sheriff to scare them into not killing her. Didn't work out so well did it?
No one was waiting for them, they were what was left of the Domingray gang. The rest were either dead or brought in by bounty hunters...so basically the rest were dead. Dead as dog shit.
Jody insisted they keep up the farce that the gang was still at large and bigger than ever to keep people scared.
Grouch sighed. His body began to finally start warming up. He rummaged around his pockets for a short while before finding what he was after. His packet of Red Apple cigarettes, he placed one between his lips and flicked on his lighter. He coughed mid-inhale, pain wracked his body. Might as well die while enjoying something right?
What the fuck was he to do now? He was probably going to bleed to death anyway. No job has ever fucked up this badly. Sure they'd lost people, but both leaders of the gang in the same night? Fuck no. There was nothing left, the Domingray gang was done and Grouch had nothing. Well, except...her. He recalled their goodbye, flush lips against his. It seemed like an age ago. He knew he couldn't just give up and die he had to get back to her, he promised.
He was slowly drifting off, trying to formulate a plan to get out of here.
If he didn't die in front of this fucking fire tonight.
He awoke cold and he was starving. The world outside seemed to finally have quieted down. Food, he need food. He remembered the large cooking pot of stew in the kitchen area and from what he recalled there was a hefty amount left, possibly enough to keep him going until he could get out of here.
So he struggled and pulled himself to his feet. It was no easy task, grasping onto nearby objects to steady himself so he didn't pass out. God, everything hurt.
He filled himself a bowl of the stew, it was stone cold but he didn't give two shits as he wolfed it down, he'd heat some more up later, now, he was ravenous. He could hear his stomach gurgle trying to bring it back up but he forced himself to keep it down.
Once the bowl was empty he shuffled to the closest window and peered outside to see that the weather had indeed began to settle, the winds had ceased howling and flakes of snow gently fell from the sky. He was still snowed in, and the snow was too dense too manoeuvre his way through or hope that anyone with half a brain were to pass by. If anyone were out there at this moment it would be the Devil himself.
He sighed, it would still be a while until he could be free of this fucking cabin, with no one for company apart from the husks of his former gang and three men who were responsible for his position.
Grouch Douglass was a man of some morals. To some who'd known him he seemed cold, heartless even soulless. He did have a heart though and although it belonged to only one person and he knew he'd had to revert to his heartless ways to survive this without spending the rest of his days behind bars or hanged at the gallows...the latter was much more likely.
He was an outlaw, but hell if there was a good a time as any to give it up, it was now. Change his name, settle down and all that bullshit. He was tired, he was getting old and he just wanted to go home. If he was perfectly honest with himself maybe he was even a little glad it was all over.
If someone had told his younger self this, he'd have laughed at them and pushed his pistol in their face and pulled the trigger without so much as a second thought. Once upon a time he didn't give two fucks where life took him, constantly being on the run, creating aliases and collecting his wanted posters as keepsakes.
He had the world at his feet. All the women he could fuck and all the money he could gamble, if he lost it he'd kill to get it back. He was fucking invincible.
To him it was all a big fucking adventure. Him and the gang "Yee-fucking-haw".
And now, he'd done something his younger self never thought was possible.
He'd gone and fell in love.
Hi, everyone thanks for reading.
It has been a long time since I last posted or have even written anything. Hope I'm not too rusty and that you enjoyed this.
Read&Review
~ Monstergirl19
