Chapter 36
Sorry for the long wait. Enjoy.
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Elton had waited for the two Rangers to be out of sight before turning to the third Ranger that had been left behind, presumably to keep an eye on the agent. "What's your name, boy?"
The Ranger spat in the dirt, leaning against one of the posts supporting the porch. "Doncaster. Bob Doncaster." Elton smiled, his moustache curling unpleasantly. "Why?"
"I like to know the names of my victims. Call it a penchant for administration."
The Ranger frowned at his words, and threw his cigarette on the ground. "The hell yer talkin' about?" Before he realized, a knife appeared from behind him and slit his throat. The man gurgled, spat and then slumped into the sand, revealing Elton's henchman, who bend down impassively to pull his knife out of the dead Ranger.
"Pity." Elton sneered, pulling himself up out of his chair. "Takes years and small fortunes to train these poor souls." He gazed at the dead man for a moment, before looking at his man. "Get me a horse." The man nodded and left while his employer followed him with his eyes. He scanned the perimeter for any unwanted witnesses. But as he had predicted, everyone was too busy putting out the last bits of the fire, or gathering what was left of their belongings. No one had noticed the small drama taking place in front of the Sheriff's office.
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The setting sun robbed her from a clear view on who was approaching the cabin. But the sound of spurs and horse hooves revealed a rider was entering the gang's den. A brave soul, she had to admit. Whoever it was, he assumed himself strong, able or known well enough to stroll into the midst of Butch's gang. Guns were readied, cocked and hammered, and she vaguely noticed how each of the members took positions behind boulders, trunks and trees. They knew how to handle themselves in a situation like this. She herself had frozen into place, her back still against the side of the cabin, she somehow deemed herself safe there. Frank had left her side in a hurry to help out the rest of the men, and she saw him from the corner of her eyes, hiding behind a big rock. The door next to her opened, and a shirtless, feverish looking Butch suddenly stood beside her, his revolver dangling from one finger to his side. He obviously didn't expect much trouble from whoever was approaching.
Through the damp and the haze, Annabel quietly entered the camp, her thread almost silent, like she had been taught to balance her weight a sudden way to avoid being detected by whoever might be on her trail. On her back, seated in Butch's faded, leather saddle, was the town's reverend, who had been smart enough to place his hands behind his head.
"Hold yer fire!" Ray barked from behind a boulder. "It's Josh Brady." Not every member seemed to recognize the priest. The youngest, Kyle and Frank, exchanged questioning looks with eachother. But Ray seemed more euphoric than ever, and walked up to the reverend with a big grin on his wrinkled face, extending his hand to help him off their leader's horse. "Ah'll be damned! Ah didn't want te believe it when they told me ye took up that bible!" Ray chuckled, on the verge of giving the man a hug, but restraining himself for the sake of losing face. "Been how many years now, Josh? Ten? Twelve?"
"Fourteen." Brady answered, and let himself slide off the saddle until his spurred boots hit the frozen ground gently. "Because you didn't join us in the war, did you? You decided to play house on the frontier instead." The statement knocked the grin off Ray's face in a second, and he let out a indignant huff.
"That wasn't mah fight." He argued weakly. "Ah had a wife. Had a kid. Couldn't go fightin' for them darkies like you all did."
The reverend smiled at the older man, but was obviously done with the conversation, and turned his gaze to Barret, standing a few feet away from the scene. "Doctor." He gave the army surgeon a courteous nod, and the gesture was returned with a few second interval. "Still riding along, I see? I would have thought you had moved on to greener pastures by now. A man of your potential." Barret didn't reply, and looked away eventually, his way of telling the priest to drop the subject and state his business. "I see you still favour the gift of silence too." Brady pushed on, regaining the doctor's attention.
"You shouldn't be here, Josh." Barret told him, letting his eyes roam the tree tops. "We got nothing more to say to you."
"I beg to differ." The priest answered, holding up Annabel's reins and locking eyes with her owner, who had now taken to lean against the side of the doorpost. "I recognized her the moment she didn't care one bit about that town down there burning to the ground. She never was much of a scaredy cat, was she? That's what you liked about her."
Butch narrowed his eyes, his gaze still fixed on the priest, but he seemed more bored with the man than threatened. The man returning his horse didn't wait for the gang leader to accept her graciously, and dropped the reins in front of him like he had sudden lost interest in the whole situation.
"There's two men coming up here." Brady stated dryly. "I think they're Rangers. And your friend Henry Elton is at our beloved sheriff's office recovering from a broken leg. I don't think he'll be chasing your tail for a while to come." The girl next to the highly wanted criminal let out a relieved sigh at the news, and received a warning glare from the man she had put her trust in. The priest followed their small interaction with a mixture of distaste and worry. "You can't keep dragging her along. I'm glad to see you decided to take her with you, but she aint one ounce safer with you than she is out here by herself."
"Aint that so now." Butch grumbled with a bored tone. "Ahm gettin mighty tired of all ye folks out there tellin' me what ah should do with this girl."
"No one would say a word about it if you didn't have a reputation for yourself that could very well mean the end of her life, Bartholomew." Brady shot back defiantly, and took an urgent step in the outlaw's direction to emphasize his next words, and to exclude the other men from their conversation. "Don't forget I was there the night with Red. Don't forget what I've seen you do." He whispered fervently, loud enough for Eleanor to hear, as she was standing right next to Butch.
"Shut up!" In a flash, Butch had grabbed the priest by his front collar, and pushed him away as hard as he could, causing the man to lose his footing, and fall back in the snow with a harsh thud. "Get outta here, Josh." The gang leader hissed menacingly. "Don't make me put a hole in ye. That's another thang ye've seen me do once er twice, aint it?" He turned his back toward the reverend, and walked back into the cabin to get dressed, passing the girl like she wasn't even there.
Brady got up with a patience than would have admired most men, and brushed the snow and mud off his long black coat like he had simply tripped during a stroll in the woods. "They burned down the La Silva fort a few days ago." He spoke to Butch's back before the man had a chance to slam the door. "They left it. Abandoned." Butch had frozen in the doorway, but gave no other reaction. "And that girl told me you took her to Rosa, leading your posse straight into the only safe place you've ever had!" But instead of turning to face the priest during his desperate rant, Butch picked up his shirt from a chair and started dressing himself like he had just woken up on a lazy Sunday morning. "My God, man! What have you done!" Brady called with a shaky voice, obviously losing his patience. "Does the whole world have to burn down?! Is that where you're at right now?!" When Butch turned to kick the door shut in a violent burst of energy, the reverend looked more offended than ever, and almost truthfully hurt at his old friend's unwillingness to talk to him.
Crestfallen, Eleanor stared at the priest with wide eyes. The news of Rosa's fate only hitting her slowly, sinking like a brick into the pit of stomach. The lively fort she had been taken to, and the safety she had felt among life's most wanted misfits, was the last place she wanted to see destroyed. No matter if its inhabitants were criminals. And she realized, more than ever, that there was a black scorched trail following her on her journey, with remains of destroyed lives behind her. Travelling with a man like Butch only meant despair and ruin for those they encountered on their path. With a trembling voice, she tried to get the priests' attention.
"Where.. where do you think they went? Rosa and.. all of the other women?"
He didn't seem eager to answer her question, and only met her gaze when he had convinced himself Butch wouldn't come back out of the cabin any time soon. "I don't know." He spoke softly. "I hope, for her sake, she went back to where she came from all those years ago. Further West, then South, into Mexico. Maybe.. she'll find remnants of the family she was forced to leave behind when she was young." Having no idea what ever happened to the woman, Eleanor was left without words. She had done her speculating on Rosa's past, and she wasn't about to start doing it again. "But she might as well have perished in that fort when it was set ablaze. I don't see her abandoning her girls." He continued solemnly.
"Rangers approaching!" Jesus cried with a thick Spanish accent. "Two!"
Brady looked over his shoulder in the direction of where had come from, and where the Rangers had followed him up the stream. "I would have enjoyed more time with you, miss Hartley." He started. "But I'm afraid this is where our roads must separate."
She searched for his eyes with a concerned expression. "You led them here?" she whispered in disbelief. "Why?" He shook his head, trying to smile.
"Not everything is what it seems at first glance." He answered, taking hold of her arms and giving them a comforting squeeze. "We shall see eachother again. If not in this life, then maybe the next." With those words, he turned from her to Butch's frantic men, left without leadership as Butch remained inside the cabin. "Jack!" Barret came up to him, calm as ever. "Take those boys out of here, bring the girl. I'll hold them off."
The army surgeon tilted his head at the curious orders given to him by a man not his leader. "You expect me to abandon him?" He gave a short nod to the cabin. "Wouldn't you like to witness that?" The reverend readied his revolver with agitated impatience, shaking his head vigorously.
"If you think Butch is still in that cabin you haven't seen enough of him yet." He whispered fervently to the Frenchman. "But you will. Leave her to tag along and eventually, come with time, you'll see plenty more of him." He moved past Barret, who had taken to stare at the ground in confusion, a deep set drown on his dirtied face. When he and Eleanor locked eyes, he suddenly seemed to remember how to shift himself and walked up to the cabin, swaying the door open to reveal an empty room, looking like it had never been occupied by the gang at all. She peered around his shoulder into the vacant cabin.
"Where did he go?" she asked.
If he seemed surprised at her sudden presence right behind him, he didn't show. And instead turned around sharply to look at the horse the priest had so thoughtfully returned to camp. But Annabel was no longer there. "mount up." He instructed the girl, shaking off the oddness of the situation. "We're leaving." He walked away from her, barking orders at the rest of the gang.
While she readied Paluxy, Frank joined her tugging Bobby along. No shots had been fired yet, though several words had been called back and forth between the reverend, shielding himself behind a large oak tree, and the two Rangers behind a big boulder. He was giving the gang time to pack and get ready before he'd commence to allow the Rangers to approach even further. Of Butch, no trace had been found yet. But he wasn't far, she could feel his eyes burn into the back of her skull as she strapped and bridled her mare. As Frank came up to her, he tossed a pair of dust covered trousers and a thick trapper's coat at her.
"Jack said te put those on." He explained as she gave him a confused look. "We goin' by te flats. Cold down there." He pulled himself into his saddle. She and him had changed clothes some time before, and instead of putting back on her dress, she had now been given her own set of outlaw garments. She put them on hastily, and pulled out the half destroyed dress from her saddle bags. For a moment, she hesitated, fumbling with the damp fabric in her hands, A dress her mother had made for her. A shot was fired, and instead of jumping in surprise, her expression hardened, and she tossed the dress into the snow. It would do her no good no more. With determination, she pulled herself up onto the horse, giving Frank a small nod to indicate she was ready to go.
"Move out!" Barret yelled out, mounting his big, black stallion. He raised his arm, circling his finger to tell the men they were leaving, and time was up. Multiple shots were fired between the reverend and the two Rangers, who were unable to get closer because of it. The gang moved out, with Barret at the lead. They manoeuvred their horses around the trees with skill and experience, and Eleanor could do nothing but cling on to Little Paluxy for dear life and hope her mare had done this before. The steep path, covered in rocks and tree trunks was nothing short of an obstacle court at this speed for even the most experienced rider. The gang had surrounded her, and she wasn't sure it was deliberate, following orders, or if she was just the slowest of them all and caught in the middle of the much bigger horses. From the corner of her eyes she saw Ray leading the two obtained horses behind him. They had yet to serve their purpose.
Suddenly it seemed they were with more than they used to be, and she frowned when she tried to make out the faces of the three strangers riding along side with them now. The trees moved by so fast, her vision was a blurry mess, she narrowed her eyes to identify them. When one of the riders moved his head to look at her, she recognized the distinct features of Henry Elton and couldn't help but pull her reins in shock. Her mare neighed and staggered in panicked response, and she tried to move away from Elton's prying hands attempting to grab her horse's bridle to bring her to a halt.
"Get away from me!" she screamed in horror.
In the chaos, she vaguely heard shots getting fired, horses whinnying in panic as the pursuit continued on full speed. Now that the strangers had been discovered, the gang joined in to fight them off. Bullets flew back and forth, but somehow the distraction was so big no one noticed her struggle with Elton, still trying to grab her horse's reins. Paluxy was a lot smaller than his mount, and her scared cries while being pushed and prodded by the man's much larger steed only increased the girl's panic. He slowed her down bit by bit, and she watched in horror as the gang continued their trail while still battling the two other mercenaries.
Going down a steep ridge, her horse suddenly lost its footing, and tumbled over whinnying in alarm. Eleanor cried out as she was launched over Paluxy's head, landing in the gravel and brush covered ground, sliding down with the enormous weight of her horse right behind her. There was no stopping her descent down the slope of the ridge. Together, girl and beast, they plummeted down the mountain. Only coming to a halt when they both ended in a creek at the foot of the hill. The horse's weight landed painfully on her leg, rendering her unable to move. Crying in pain at the sheer pressure, she tried to push the struggling horse off of her. Paluxy was a bloodied mess, and her right front leg was bend at an odd angle. The girl felt tears well up in panic, fear and pity for the suffering old horse in front of her. She reached up to feel her forehead, and looked at her own blood covered hand. She whimpered, trembling from shock. Small rocks continued to roll down the path she had fallen down from, and she tried to look over her shoulders to see Elton slowly but steadily make his way over to her, leading his horse down with caution as to not mimic the girl's own fall.
Eleanor continued trying to struggle herself free from the weight of the dying beast, but found she wasn't strong enough and her bruised arms refused to cooperate in full. Behind Elton, on top of the ridge, the faces of Dan and his henchman appeared, looking slightly out of breath they peered down at the scene. To them, Elton had broken his leg, and to see him riding a horse down a steep slope was about as strange as seeing a rabbit ride a bicycle.
"Lying bastard." Dan huffed under his breath. "Henry! What te hell yer doin'?! Get back up here!"
Elton didn't seem to hear the Ranger's voice as he steadily continued approaching the trapped young woman. His face, covered in sweat and pale as a ghost, reminded her of men she had seen in her youth. Infested with Tuberculosis or Diphtheria. He looked hardly human right now, and she had seen this insane look in his eyes once or twice before. The Rangers had begun their descend as well. On foot, they had to grab and hold on to trees to prevent from falling head first down the mountain. But they would never reach her in time to stop Elton from whatever he was planning on doing to her. They continued calling his name, telling him to stop, but the agent refused to even look at them and acknowledge their presence.
Panicking at the idea of what Elton was up to, Eleanor pushed herself up to frantically search her saddlebags for her old revolver. Hushing her mare to please lay still, she pulled the gun out, cocking the hammer with half frozen hands. She lay back down, wincing at the pain the moving horse caused her, she tried to roll to her side and aim at Elton, still a good few feet away from her. She fired, the gun clicked, spraying nothing but water drops around. She let out an exasperated whimper, trying again, with the same result. The powder had gotten wet, and the gun was useless. Somehow her weapon refused to obey every time she had tried to fire it. Somehow God didn't want her to become a killer, no matter the amount of revolvers in her saddle bags.
She jumped when a shot was fired, and the water was hit right beside her shoulder. The cries of the Rangers for Elton to stop shooting at her rang in her ears like they were further away than they really were. She froze for a second, her heart beating in her throat. Another bullet hit the water on her other side. At this angle, Elton found it hard to get a clear shot from behind the thick brush. She struggled once more, her instinct to survive kicking in while she begged Paluxy to get up, or atleast to shift her weight.
Once Elton had reached her, his face a mixture of hate and insanity, he grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled with such blind force she was released from the horse's weight. He pulled her to her staggering feet. "I've got you now!" He hissed between his teeth at the struggling girl. The Rangers, still trying to get him to stop, had now decided to open fire to save her life. "You're coming with me, you wretched wench." Elton dragged her with him, away from the bullets, down the creek he took her. The thick brush covering their trail.
"Let me go!" she snarled angrily, but it only caused him to tighten his hold on her, and now cover her mouth to silence her as he took her with him through the water until the creek turned into a wider river.
"I swear to God I'll make sure your mother swings during the next public hanging if you don't shut your trap." He hissed menacingly in her ear, rendering her silent. "You're going to get me Cavendish, by God you will!" She inhaled sharply as she felt his hand travel up the front of her chest to her throat. She listened to the Rangers call her and Elton's name, in search of them both, but they had moved around a bend, hidden behind a fallen tree that had stopped the river from flowing and had caused the water to become chin deep in places. "But you'll bring him to me dead. He'll come look for you, won't he?" he continued to whisper in her ear, pulling her deeper into the water. She could feel him shiver at the water's wintery temperature, she herself too afraid to feel the cold. "What have you turned him into, hm?"He asked, almost curious, his voice trembling from cold as the water level now reached both their waists. "We're all wondering just that." She frowned at his words, unsure of who he meant by we. "But never mind that. You'll be floating face down once he comes here. And I'm going to enjoy this far more than you'll ever know."
They had almost reached the deepest part of the river, right next to the dead tree serving as a dam that would mean her death. He pushed her head under water, keeping her there while she struggled against his grasp. He snarled at her fight, smiling ear to ear as he commenced to drown the young woman.
Underwater, she couldn't hear the gunfight break out. She screamed without sound, filling her lungs with water as she continued her struggle. After minutes that seemed like hours, he let her go, but by that time she was unable to move on her own, her strength leaving her. She opened her eyes, no longer breathing as she gazed upon the underside of the tree and the beaver dam that had been built underneath. Her mind wandered away from her body, and she felt like she was floating somewhere between Heaven and earth. The dimmed noises above the surface didn't affect her, she felt invisible, safe in a way. Her consciousness slipped away from her little by little, and she hardly realized the hand that wound itself around her wrist, pulling her up.
R&R