Alright now, here me out here, folks. This here chapter. Is a draft. I am by no means satisfied with it. But since I've gotten so many messages of people wanting this story updated, I decided to upload this anyway. I hope the next update won't take as long as this one did.
I thank everyone for the reviews. Especially the guest reviewers. Get yourself an account on this bitch, guys! That way I can reply and explain myself. Your support really did help. I owe you all.
Enjoy!
Chapter 40: Looting and Something Else
They were readying their guns. Around her, the gang was preparing for a one sided fight. She felt lost in the middle of their preparations, she had no part in it. As the horizon in the east started to show the first light, the world around her made herself ready for a violent morning. Exhausted, she made her way to a large boulder and sank down, gazing teary eyed at the sun slowly pushing the dark away. She remembered her father telling her how a red sunrise promised a bloody day. But this sunrise had a crystalized paleness around her. Like the sun tried to crawl out of a pile of snow.
"What's te plan?" Ray asked his leader. Maybe to stop him from gazing at the girl's back, and to bring his mind to the raid they had so carefully prepared. Butch seemed reluctant to avert his attention to the oldest member of his gang, but eventually met the man's steely glare. A silence fell between them, and Ray frowned in annoyance as Butch seemed undecided, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt.
"We take whut we can." The gang leader explained in hushed tones, and took a step closer to Ray so his next words went unheard to all but him. "We leave no witnesses." Ray seemed to agree without a second thought and nodded intently. This was the Butch he knew, and trusted.
"Women and children?" Ray asked. Another silence fell.
"Ye heard whut ah said." Ray would have preferred to hear his leader say the actual words. But it seemed this was the permission he had been waiting for. And it was all the permission Ray needed. So he nodded at the man he had been following across these lands for what seemed like decades now.
While the sun kept rising in front of her, Barret came into her view as well, kneeling down in front of her to search for her eyes. After a moment, she forced herself to look at him with her tired, glassy stare. "Are you hurt?" he asked in his usual monotone voice that he used whenever he tried to desperately distance himself from whatever was taking place around him. She frowned in annoyance. This wasn't about her anymore. She shook her head. "This will be hard to witness." He spoke impassively. "Butch wont force you to watch it. He can't."
Her bottom lip trembled at the thought of the three families spending their last nights in their covered wagons over the hilltop. "How can you agree with this?" She watched his expression darken before continuing. "You're a doctor! You swore an oath!"
"Stop it." Barret ordered her. And she did, gazing at him sadly. "You cannot change the world on your own, Eleanor." He whispered to keep the others out of their conversation. "You want to know the truth about me? I became an army surgeon because I had no other military experience at the time of my enlistment. And putting tourniquets on blown off legs and arms is something anyone can do. So I took the job. Not because I wanted to help people." She stared at him, saying nothing. "I never wanted to help anyone else but myself. Am I clear?" after a moment to let his words sink in, she nodded slowly. He got up from the frozen ground, seemingly frustrated with himself, and trudged off.
She somehow expected his words to shock her more than they did. But all she could do was resume her gazing at the sunrise. They left her there. No one forced her to follow anyone into the upcoming bloodbath. The gang mounted up, and took off. The horse she had been given her only company. Her perfect chance to get away from this murderous gang, with their vicious leader. All she had to do was get on her horse, point its nose toward the sunrise, and follow her path eastward. It was Butch's way of telling her to get away from him. But if she left, he would not hold himself to his end of the deal, and leave the settlers unharmed like she had tried to make him promise in exchange of her departure.
When the first rays hit her eyes, it came with the screaming of the awakened families. No shots had been fired yet, and she realized Butch was going to play with his prey before killing it. Like he always did. Like she'd seen him do countless of times. As the settlers grew quiet under Butch's command and the nearing threat of his gang of outlaws, she looked up at her horse again, standing quietly beside her, its reins on the ground. She got up, dusted off her trousers, wiped the tears roughly from her face with her sleeve and took the horse's bridle in hand. He was not Paluxy, and she missed the way her little mare could gaze at her with tired, loving eyes. This horse had something wild in its gaze. She gently stroked the stallion's nose, and it nibbled on her palm in return.
"Shall we get out of here?" she asked. "Do you know the way?" A shot fired, startling the horse, forcing her to grip the reins tightly in fear of it running off. "Easy.. easy." She spoke to the animal, calming it slowly while she fought back tears. "Easy, boy." She took hold of the knob on the saddle, and pulled herself up. Another shot fired, and the horse whinnied in uneasiness, walking in circles while she desperately tried to take back control. "Easy, boy!" Trained by mercenaries, the horse was drawn to any gunshot, no matter how they spooked it, and despite her efforts to steer it the other way, the horse took her over the hilltop, straight into the scene she didn't want to witness. Only stopping behind the other horses.
All standing beside eachother, mounted on their horses, the gang was a frightening thing to see. Betty's husband lay on the ground a few feet from Butch's horse, gripping his bleeding leg tightly while his wife cried by his side, holding on to his shoulders. Jeremiah had tossed his rifle onto the frozen ground, and was shielding the children behind his back. The haughty Hannah held on to her own husband for dear life, crying frantically into his collar. Young David, the young man that had shown Eleanor such kindness, stood trembling by their side, seeking protection from his older brother.
"Ahm gonna ask this one more tahm." Butch spoke with a bored tone. "Ah want any cash, any jewellery, and any kind of ammunition you got." Nobody moved. "And ah want it now." He aimed his weapon at Betty, who frantically started to pray out loud and making cross signs over her chest. "Ah'll keep murderin' te lot o' ye till it sinks in."
"Please." Jeremiah spoke up. "Please, sir." He held up his hands as he took a few steps closer, but halted when Butch's gun was suddenly pointed at himself. "We are but.. simple travellers looking for a better life."
"Ye found it." Butch mumbled. "Ye'll be in Heaven soon." The rest of the gang chuckled menacingly. Jeremiah waited till their laughing had died down.
"We have nothing." He pleaded. "Nothing but our faith in God and eachother." he spread his arms, presenting the broken families. "You'd make orphans out of our children, and leave them here to be eaten by wolves. Please.. take our horses and rifles. They're all we got left." Butch tilted his head, like a curious coyote, and looked around the campsite. "We are stuck here. Two of our wagons broke down, and my wife.. my wife, she's gravely ill." Jeremiah continued, encouraged by the leader's sudden curiosity. "She's with child, you see."
"Aren't they always?" Butch mocked the desperate father, causing another row of chuckles to rise up from the rest. But Jeremiah seemed determined to finish his story, and ignored their taunting.
"We left from St. Louis a couple of months ago, thinking we could be in California by the beginning of winter but Rachel.. Rachel's pregnancy turned out to be more complicated than we had anticipated." The father continued like he half expected to receive help from the gang if he only explained the whole situation the right way. "We took off with thirty other families. They waited with us for two days, but after that they left. And the doctor that travelled with the caravan, left with them." Nobody spoke. "We've been here for two weeks. Our food supplies are running low, we're almost out of water. Our horses are emaciated. And my wife and unborn child are bound to die over a choice I made to give them a better life."
"The baby that can't be delivered." Butch tauntingly said, his gaze to the heavens as if the whole thing bored him beyond belief. On the ground, Betty's husband let out another sharp cry in pain as he moved his wounded leg. But when Jeremiah made a move to help him, Butch cocked the hammer of his gun. "Ye stay put. Go on. Finish your story. We're dyin' te learn the rest, aren't we boys?" Only Ray and Jesus chuckled this time. The man froze in his tracks, and nodded in defeat.
"The doctor said the baby didn't turn." Jeremiah continued, his hands raised in surrender. "It can never be brought into this world the natural way." A silence fell, and Butch's expression was hard to read. The desperate father was done with his story, sunk to his knees and started crying to the frozen ground in front of the long line of horse legs.
It was Frank who finally couldn't handle his confusion anymore and broke the silence. "So how's that baby gonna be born now?" He received a firm blow to the head from Ray, but it didn't seem to leave an impression despite his hat being knocked off his head. "Nah, ah want te know! Git off me, Ray! Jack, how's that baby goin' te be born?" Barret seemed reluctant to answer. "Jack!"
"It won't, you fool." The army surgeon shot at Frank. "It'll die." Jeremiah's wailing became louder, his cries cutting through the frozen air like a sharp knife. Frank seemed more confused than ever, and looked at Kyle for help, but the latter looked about as shocked as he did.
"Ah heard enough." Butch growled, stirring up his horse so it made a move to trample the frantic father. "Git up! Git up, dammit, or ah'll blow a hole in yer head and save ye te trouble of watchin' yer wife die!" Jeremiah got to his feet, shielding his face from Annabel's strong chest. "Anythin' valuable. Now!" He turned his horse sideways, pulled his foot out of the stirrup and gave the man a harsh shove toward the wagons. "Ye keep yer tales of woe for meeting your maker. He might send ye an angel if ye pray hard enough."
Jeremiah shuffled back to the covered wagons, but turned around for a moment, his eyes fixed on the ground. "He already did." He mumbled, and looked up at the girl hiding behind the rest of the gang. "She brought my daughter back. We are together." He nodded to himself. "By the Lord's grace, we will remain so."
Eleanor felt herself shrink under the stares of the gang, now that her presence had been made known. But she stared back at Butch defiantly. "Jack is a doctor!" she called out to the broken man making his way back to his wagons. She had never seen Butch look more murderous than he did right now, gazing at her over his shoulder. But he wouldn't harm her soul by killing children in front of her, and so she used his own words against him, and stared back at him fearlessly. Their staring contest was interrupted by a violent shove from Barret, knocking her off her horse and onto the frozen ground.
"Have you lost your mind?!" he hissed at her from atop his tall, black mount.
Frank dismounted quickly to help her up, his eyes throwing daggers at the army surgeon. "Ah thinks we all did if we gohn stand here and watch babies die." He growled. "Aint right. Ahm ere' te steal anythin' they got, but ah aint about te kill babies." He turned his attention to the trembling girl. "Ye ahlright, miss Hartley?" She nodded.
"You're a doctor?" Jeremiah said, his face stained red from years as he gazed at Barret, who said nothing in return. Butch leaned over the knob of his saddle, allowing Annabel to step forward and bump into the father with her nose.
"Cash." Butch said. Another nudge. "Jewellery." Another nudge. "Valuables, father-of-the-year. Or do ah need te shoot one of them te git through te ye." He let his gaze rest on the children huddled together. "Cuz ah will. Ah swear te yer God ah will."
Betty got to her feet at the mentioning of the children being in harm's way because of Jeremiah's hesitation. "Now, Jeremiah! Please! Get everything.. Hannah has that Golden cross! Give it to them for God's sake!" she ran up to Hannah, grabbing her by her arms. "Give them that cross! Give them your ring!"
Hannah wound her hand around her other. "My wedding ring?" she said astonished, like Betty had asked her to donate it to an orphanage. "They're not my children. Why should I make that sacrifice?" Betty stared at her like she was about to strangle the woman.
"That's a good question." Butch mumbled.
But Jeremiah didn't wait for the answer, and hurried over to his own wagon, where his wife lay ill with a Gold wedding ring around her finger. Hannah pushed Betty off her, stubborn as a spoiled child, took off her ring and tossed it unceremoniously in front of Annabel's feet. "You pick it up yourself, you filth." She spoke haughtily to Butch, but shrunk when he averted his eyes to her. He dismounted slowly, and walked up to her with swaying steps, a wicked grin on his face.
"Yer sumthin' else aren't ye?" he asked, humiliating the woman by getting uncomfortably close to her person. Though she trembled in fear, her face betrayed nothing but a seething anger at the indignant way she was being treated. "Ye know whut it's like te be held at gunpoint?" he whispered to her. She gave no response. "Ye knew whut it's like te be tossed into te middle of that pile of dogs over there?" he nodded at his gang behind him. "Ye know what they'd do te a woman like yerself? Hm? Queen Victoria?"
"I don't take orders from criminals." She hissed back.
"Ye will." Butch told her, and turned to his men. "Ray, show Queen Victoria how we deal with royalty around these parts." The fact that Butch gave her to one of his men, and the most ruthless one at that, made Eleanor's stomach turn at what was about to happen. Ray dismounted without a word, took out his revolver, aimed it at the woman's feet and fired a shot right next to her, causing her to yelp in fear.
"Ye will take orders from a criminal." Butch told her without looking at her anymore. He bend down to pick up the wedding ring, and held it up against the light to estimate how much it would be worth. Ray fired another shot, this time on her other side, forcing her to jump out of its way. "Ah'll make ye dance fer me before this day is done." Butch continued, and tossed the ring at Jesus, who put it in his pocket for safekeeping. "Ah'll make all of ye goddamn dance for me!" he hollered, suddenly furious. "And you!" he pointed at Eleanor, who stood her ground still wrapped in Frank's arm. "Ye're goin' te take yer share from this loot and git out!"
"I will not have one piece of it!" Eleanor yelled back defiantly.
"Ah didn't kill any o' them!" Butch spread his arms. And she suddenly realized what he was trying to say. As her expression softened, so did his. With every step he took in her direction, winding his way through the horses, Frank's hold on her tightened. He stopped in front of her, ignoring the youngest member of his gang completely. "Ah want ye gone." She stared at him, looking for the truth, but there was nothing but his unnaturally blue eyes staring back at her. "Ah will murder each and every one of them if yer not gone by nightfall. Am I bein' understood here?" Eventually, she felt herself nod, and he nodded with her. "Keep te horse. Keep the clothes, yer weapon, ah don't care. Git out of mah sight."
"And once I'm gone.." Eleanor said. "You will rape, murder and rob all of them, I suppose?"
He looked almost offended, and huffed at the young woman. "Yer the walkin', breathin' answer te yer own damn question, Sharky." He looked at Frank, who seemed ready to burst out in tears. "Don't ye have work te do?" the young man nodded frantically, let her go, and joined the others in collecting valuables. "Get packin'" he told the young woman, and turned around to bark orders at his men while they upturned baskets and crates, looking for anything worth something.
Eleanor stood as if frozen to the ground. It was as if she was already invisible. They ignored her like she wasn't ever there anymore. The children continued to cry, hanging on to Betty's apron as she frantically prayed out loud while trying to comfort them. The men looked defeated. And she felt the overwhelming weight of guilt as her eyes rested on those of young David. There was nothing left of his optimistic smile when he looked at her, there was only pain in his eyes. But as Eleanor turned to get her horse, all commotion seemed to die down. Jeremiah had carried his wife out of their wagon, and despite her situation, she wanted him to put her on her own two feet. Everything about her betrayed she was a beautiful woman underneath her suffering. Her eyes dulled with exhaustion and pain, and her chestnut hair faded from the cold. As she stood, stretching to her full height, and took in the plundering of their humble campsite, everything seemed to stop in time around her.
"Mama!" The fourteen year old boy Jasper called out, hurrying over to his mother to support her arm, while his father had taken the other. "You shouldn't be out of bed! Let us handle this!" The woman turned her attention to the frantically praying Betty.
"Betty" she said. But it went unheard. "Betty." Now the deranged woman looked over her shoulder like she was seeing a ghost. "I don't think He can hear you." Rachel's voice was soft, smooth and elegant. "I think we're on our own. Why don't you.. lend a hand to these gentlemen, get them everything they need so they can be on their way." She grabbed her hand, and pulled off her ring, holding it out to Butch in her palm. "Take it." she said softly. "It will change nothing for me. I love my husband with or without Gold." But Butch seemed reluctant to get any closer to her, and just gazed at her impassively. "I am bound to depart this world soon anyway." She almost pleaded. "It's alright. I hold no resentment to any of you." She smiled tiredly, and looked up at the sky. "This will be my last Christmas with my family. I will spend it free of anger, hate or regret. And no one will change my mind. Not even you." She rested her gaze on the gang leader again.
Upturning Hannah and Isaac's wagon, Ray huffed at her words. "Ah'll make this one dance too." He growled and reached for his gun. But Butch stopped him.
"Just take te damn ring and let em be." The leader took in the sad scene in front of him. Clothes thrown allover the place, collecting mud on the soggy ground. The emaciated, God fearing people abandoned in the middle of nowhere. "What await em beats all whut we can do te em." He took a few steps back, like the whole situation suddenly scared him. "We're done 'ere" when he turned to the horses, he watched Eleanor remove the saddle from her stallion, and throwing it on the ground with a loud thud. "Te hell ye think yer doin'?'"
"I'm staying." She said without looking up. "With them." Butch had obviously not foreseen this could happen, and for a moment, he seemed lost without words. "I might as well travel in company." she continued unfazed.
"Travel?" he chuckled gruffly. "They aint goin' nowhere any tahm soon."
"I'll stay to help out then." She said, hanging her saddle over a crudely set up hitching fence. "I don't mind hard work. I don't mind lost cases." She turned to face him boldly. "You're the walking, breathing proof of that." She gave back to him. He set his hands in his sides, trying to look like a stern father about to give his daughter the lecture of a lifetime, failing miserably at it in the process.
"Eleanor, these people are all goin' te die." He spoke to his boots. "Wolves, Injuns.. Hell, those mercenaries will be more practical than I ever was with em. They find ye here.. They will pay fer it. Is that whut ye want fer yerself?"
"I want to help them." She explained pleadingly.
"But ye can't!" he hollered impatiently. "Yer gonna help dig their graves?!"
"If I must."
He stared at her in disbelief, breathing heavily from anger, and possibly fever. "Ah didn't save yer life te watch ye waste it on these bible thumping idiots thinkin' that life out west is different than life out east! Ah'll be damned te know all ah went through was fer nuthin!" he shook his head. "Yer not stayin. Yer gettin' on that horse, yer goin' east!"
"I will not!" she pressed, stamping a foot on the ground in stubborn confidence. "If I am to make my own choices from here on, I decide to stay with these people and help where I can. That's how I am! That is why I helped you whenever you couldn't help yourself!" she panted for a moment, collecting her breath. "If I have to dig graves for all of them, so be it. I have seen death before. You think it still fazes me? To watch people die? After all you dragged me through?!" she shook her head. "You might as well give yourself credit for grooming me to be able to make this decision." Without waiting for his answer, she walked past him, her shoulder brushing his own.
Jeremiah was trying to plead with a suddenly tone deaf Barret, who tried to ignore the man as much as he could without ever ceasing to stuff silverware into his saddle bags. "Please, please.. doctor. I beg you." The man pleaded, his hands folded, standing next to the army surgeon who made it rain tea spoons in frustration. But Jeremiah hardly seemed to notice his grandmother's precious silverware being stolen from under his nose. "Please, help us. Please. If anything.. save one! Save the child if you must!" Barret looked at him sharply, his gaze travelled to the heavily pregnant woman sitting on an empty crate next to her wagon.
"You'd pick the child over your wife?" he asked in disbelief.
Jeremiah seemed lost for words. "I would rather see them both live. But if I have to choose.. I will go for what God would want me to-" his words were interrupted when Barret grabbed the front of his collar and pressed his back against a mildly agitated Toussaint.
"She will have more children, you bastard!" Barret hissed. "You're going to raise them all on your own? Or is this as simple as just finding another woman blockheaded enough to follow you into your foolish adventures?!" He pushed Jeremiah to the side with such force, the man lost his footing and fell to the ground. "I'd save her before I'd save any child of yours." Barret continued, closing the flap of his saddlebag, tying it shut. "If I knew how."
"Please." Jeremiah continued begging, despite being on the ground still. "Please, help us." He grabbed two fistfuls of Barret's trousers, looking up at him like he was God himself. "I'll give you anything I have. Anything. My wagon.. my horses.. You name it, and it's yours!"
"Get off of me!" The army surgeon shook him off with a growl. "We already took everything you've got by force, you idiot!" he looked down at the desperate father, on the verge of tears. "I cannot help you! I never.. I can't." But before turning away, he pulled a vial of a transparent liquid out of his saddlebag and handed it to the broken man. "Laudanum." He explained. "It'll ease her pain. One teaspoon a day will do." Jeremiah took the vial like it had come down from the Heavens in a ray of beaming lights, his eyes wide as saucers like he had never seen laudanum before. "If her suffering becomes more severe, you can.. give her as much as it takes to.. you know." He nodded at the man, but Jeremiah didn't seem to understand what Barret was trying to say.
"As much as it takes to what?"
Barret just gazed at him for a moment, then shook his head. "Nothing.. Just give it to her." He took his horse's reins, leading it to where his leader was waiting for the gang to regroup.
Eleanor sat down on the crate next to Rachel, and she could feel the woman's hazel eyes burn into the side of her head. Together, they watched the gang gather the last remaining pieces of silverware, clothing and antique curiosities, stuffing them in their horses' saddlebags. For some reason, there was a wave of relief that washed over Eleanor like a warm shower. The gang would leave. And though there would be nothing but misery and despair waiting for her, atleast she would be able to face it surrounded by people that didn't meet every problem with violence.
"Are you staying with us?" Rachel asked in her soft voice. Eleanor nodded, her gaze fixed on Butch talking to an obviously miserable Barret. "How kind of you." Eleanor said nothing. Kind was not a word she'd use to describe herself. Though she had every reason to after tending to a man like Butch Cavendish for weeks. "I think they will miss you." Rachel continued. "What do you think?"
"I think they're going to find a schoolhouse to burn down." Eleanor sneered. "They never got to do that while I was around." Rachel just chuckled light-heartedly. But Eleanor hardly heard it, her gaze fixed on the interaction taking place between Butch and Barret. The latter finally getting fed up with the conversation and walking away, away from camp, to be alone with his thoughts. She had never seen Barret so conflicted. He was always so impassive, hard to read, but he was carrying his emotions on his sleeve right now for everyone to see. "Excuse me." She got up, walking up to where the army surgeon was throwing pebbles into the great nothingness of the vast prairie.
"You want to help her." Eleanor spoke confidently to Barret's back. "I want to help her too." She got around him so he was forced to look at her. "I'll help you. I'll do whatever you ask. I'll mob the blood off the floor if I have to." He said nothing, just dropped his eyes to the ground and shook his head. "You're the only one who knows how out of all these people standing around." Eleanor pleaded.
"I don't know how." Barret looked up at her. "How many babies do you think I delivered in the trenches?"
"You were there when Rosa had her baby!" Eleanor shot back.
"But.." Barret's gaze wandered to Butch, watching the both of them from a distance. "That was different. Rosa had no complications. She did it all by herself. I just.. stood there! Handing out rags."
"Then hand out rags with me!" Eleanor pleaded, taking hold of the lapels on Barret's torn overcoat. "You know how to stitch. You know how to cut. If she dies in our hands, atleast we tried. Please, Jack. Please."
"I'm worried about him." Barret nodded toward the outlaw leader. "He's been complaining about fever for days, and I can't seem to get it down. I don't want to travel with him on the brink of collapsing." He looked down at the young woman. "And I don't feel anything for leaving you here either. He told me you're planning to stay. Said you wanted to help out. Why?"
"I don't want her to die." Eleanor said simply, giving the army surgeon a small smile.
He huffed. "I didn't want a lot of people to die, but they did. There wasn't much I could do to prevent that."
"But now you can." She said. "Remember you showed me that picture of your father? At Rosa's fort? You told me he was a no count man. What would he have done if he was here today?"
Barret swallowed thickly, and seemed hesitant to answer. "He would have walked away. These people wouldn't be worth the sweat on his brow. He would never.. He never helped anyone, did anything for someone else."
"And you told me you're nothing like him." Eleanor continued. "I know you're better than that. You wouldn't care for Butch the way you do if you didn't care about others. He's the least deserving person on this earth of your skill and worry." She watched him drop his gaze to the frozen ground again. "But this woman is worth it. This family is worth it, despite her husband tying me to a pole all night." Barret looked up sharply.
"He what?"
She waved away his concern. "It was nothing."
Barret let out a huff. "No wonder Butch wants to see him bleed so bad." She said nothing, biting her lip in uneasiness, awaiting his final reply. "Alright.." the man said. She looked up, half surprised. Did she hear this correctly. "Alright, I'll stay too. And if I stay.. Butch will stay as well. He knows he wont get far without me. He might not.. take too kindly to being pinned down out here but.. well, he might see the benefits of staying put for a while.. after throwing a fit or two about it."
She couldn't help but giggle at his words and jumped up to throw her arms around him in an euphoric hug. Something he protested against violently. But it didn't matter. Perhaps the roughness of the Wild West was about to get a little less rough.