Updates don't HAVE to take a month, do they? I had some extra time on my hand, and well, the great Spirit of writing granted me some inspiration. Thanks again for all the reviews! I love getting them. They never fail to brighten my day!
To Lord MoldyShorts: I'd like to inform you I'm still laughing about this, and I'm not ashamed of it either.
Chapter 24
Elton entered the fort like he owned the place. Not at all impressed or intimidated by the arsenal of guns pointed at his very person, following every step he took. He rode up to the Spanish woman, awaiting him with her chin held high, proud as was in her nature, and in front of her, the nose of his horse almost brushing her face, its breath making her hair dance, he dismounted gracefully. His shiny leather boots touching the dusty ground like he had arrived on a different planet, and the dirt beneath his feet felt foreign.
He gazed at her for a while, a mocking smile slowly creeped onto his face. "My, won't you look at you." He said softly. "You know it's a curious thing." He started, folding his arms across his chest. "When I was a young man I hunted with a Spanish trapper around these parts. And I could have sworn I've seen the mythical creature of the chupacabra during one of my travels. I thought that sight was the most amazing thing I ever experienced. But here I am." He spread his arms mockingly. "Facing what might as well could be the most mythical creature of all." He approached her calmly. "Rosa de la Silva. Desert flower. Mother to all outlaws, and quite possibly.." He halted an inch from her. "the one that's going to save me a lot of work. If she is as cooperative to me as she was no doubt to her old companion and Lord knows what else.. the man I'm looking for.. Our mutual friend.. Butch Cavendish."
She stared at him for a while, her expression hard and unforgiving. Then brought her face close to his, so only he could hear her. "I won't tell you nothing." She hissed menacingly. "You want to hear it from me, you will have to beat it out of me."
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, Lord. The paperwork." He waved her words away. "I had honestly hoped we could come to an agreement without any drastic measures." He calmly removed his gloves, stuffing them in the inside of his coat pocket. "Then again, I do fear we have only so much time to spend on negotiations. So for the sake of everyone's appetite, I do feel the need to press you to come to a decision." He looked around at the armed men on the balconies, and the women standing behind them, looking scared yet defensive. "It would be a real shame if I'd have to give the order to inform the authorities about this, so mythical and infamous, a place." His eyes rested on her face again, and he smiled, wolf like, his perfectly trimmed moustache curling. "Because I have to say, I love what you've done with the place, truly the stuff of nightmares, very impressive. But I won't hesitate to uncover it all should I be forced to."
Rosa didn't stir, but her breathing had increased. "Like I said." She whispered. "I won't tell you nothing."
He gave her a bored smile, tilting his head mockingly. "well, then let me put this way." He started, talking to her like she was a child with only half a brain. "I'm not sure you uncultured swines of a people can count properly, but I have hired three men to accompany me here, including your old friend Evans, we'll get to that detail later. Yet, if you have counted correctly, which I doubt, you see I have not four but three men following me in here. Which means there's one out there waiting for me. If we don't return to this man, in one hour, he will turn his horse around, hippitihop his way back to civilisation, and tell every cavalry man and bounty hunter he encounters on his way there, the very location of your cosy little pile of filth"
She stared at him in anger, her lip trembling.
"I don't know what's worse." Elton continued, shrugging. "Handing over Cavendish, so that pray I might find that poor little kitten unscathed so I can return her to her ever so worried poor mother, or exposing this entire litter of kittens to the ferocity of the US army." He sighed in mock exasperation, waving cool air at himself dramatically. "I would truly hate to see every one of your cubs raped and locked behind bars. That's what they are to you, aren't they? Kittens and cubs. You take such good care of them." He sniffed, badly faking his distress. "And what would become of you? Or your..son?"
She paled at the mentioning of her own child, and swallowed thickly. No one knew about his existence, outside the people living inside the fort. Her eyes rested on Evans, grinning at her wickedly from atop his horse. He had been the one to tell the world about her son. Her expression darkened. "How could you.." she hissed at Evans. "You animal!"
Evans spat on the ground. "Ye called that one out upon yerself by kickin' me out of this place." He growled. "Ah warned ye, ye goddamn slut. Ah warned ye not te mess with me."
Elton shushed him quickly. "Well, I am so glad to be a witness to this tearful reunion, and I promise you both there will be enough time to exchange memories once we're done. But for now I must ask you to focus on the matter at hand." His words slowly forced Rosa's eyes to rest on his again, tears rolling down her cheeks, but she shook her head defiantly.
"Go to Hell." She hissed at him, and spat in his face, hitting his round spectacles. Elton didn't move as the drop of saliva slowly dripped down the smooth glass. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a fine handkerchief, and took his spectacles off his nose.
"How truly unfortunate." He remarked dryly, cleaning his glasses, clearly unfazed. He took his time, and once they were properly cleaned, readjusted them and turned to his henchmen. "Find the boy." He instructed. The two mercenaries dismounted.
"No!" Rosa screamed, and made a move toward the short man, about to wring his neck. But she was quickly stopped by two of her girls, who grabbed her arms, holding her back for her own good. They whispered words of comfort to the frantic woman who had been a mother to them for so many years, while she struggled to break free. "No!" The men started their search in the rooms on the ground floor, upturning barrels, crates and baskets. Chickens hurried out of the mudstone apartments, followed by the contents of several drawers.
Elton ignored the panicking mother, and turned his back to the women, gazing up at the armed men on the balconies. "I have no quarrel with any of you." He told them. "In fact, I have a proposal for you all to listen to." He rummaged through his pockets and held up a rolled up stack of dollar bills. "The railroad promises an additional 1000 dollars to Cavendish' already existing bounty, to the outlaw that brings him to me!" He turned around slowly, so every man on the high walls could see him, but none of them moved. "My, my aren't you all a loyal pack of sheep? A 1000 dollars on top of his bounty, and clearance of all wrong doing! In essence, gentleman, you bring me Cavendish, and I'll turn you into a free and wealthy man." Now looks were exchanged among the criminals. "Come on now." Elton pressed, smiling wickedly. "Are you all scared of old Cavendish? Most of his history is just old wives' tales, you know. Not much of it is true." He shrugged, stuffing the money away. "He's a mere product of good propaganda."
"Then how the hell did his bounty get that high?!" One of the criminals called down from the wall. A wave of mumbling and chuckling arose among them.
Elton rolled his eyes. "Why on earth would you care? All it matters is that the railroad promises clearance and 6.000 dollars to the man catching him.. alive." The muttering continued. "And the girl, of course. I know she was here. We have some business to arrange with young miss Hartley, I would very much appreciate her safe return."
"And what do we get if we get her to ye alive?" the same criminal asked.
Elton rolled his shoulders, smiling softly. "A firm handshake.." He said. "But I bid you all to atleast try to make it look like an accident." The outlaws exchanged more looks. The fact Eleanor had no bounty could either mean two things. She never did anything wrong, and there was no reason to put a price on her head. Or no one cared about her safe return at all. And it didn't matter whether she lived or died. As double as the agent's explanation was, some of the criminals had clearly made up their mind and started descending the wooden staircases that lead into the courtyard. Horses were saddled and belongings were gathered. Some took off within minutes.
In the meantime, Rosa's son had been successfully located, and was now dragged into the courtyard by his arm, by one of the mercenaries. The young boy struggled and cussed, kicking at the man's shin, but the man didn't let go, and the boy was brought to Elton, who studied the child as if he were a rare creature.
"The resemblance is truly uncanny." Elton remarked, giving Rosa meaningful look, she gazed back at him, her eyes spitting fire. "Does he even know?" she didn't answer, and looked away. "I probably wouldn't have told him either had I been you." Elton continued. "For all we know he could entertain the fancy of devouring his own offspring."
"You bastard!" Rosa hissed at him, struggling to break free. The two mercenaries had taken her from the two girls that had tried to restrain her. They had been roughly pushed aside seconds earlier. "You hurt him and he will come after you, and no one will be able to protect you!"
"Oh, I highly doubt that." Elton sighed, cleaning a sharp bowie knife with his handkerchief. "I do not expect Cavendish to be harbouring any paternal feelings for this child or any other he sired across these parts. No, my dear. I think I can pretty much do whatever I please." He twirled the knife around in his hand. "Besides, all I need to know is where they went."
Rosa shook her head, furious. "I rather die!" she cried at him.
The agent tilted his head at her. "I'm not sure you understand the situation." He looked down at the boy. "You wouldn't be the one doing the dying."
As Rosa's face paled at the frightened look in her young child's eyes, Elton kneeled down in front of the boy, the tip of his knife resting lightly against the child's soft skinned cheek. "Where did they go, Rosa?" Elton asked, staring into the boy's blue eyes, he was trembling, whimpering. "Tell me."
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Bobby could outrun the faithful Annabel, and did so on Butch's command. The girl found herself riding ahead, the horizon in front of her. To her, it seemed like they were heading toward a vast open space of nowhere. But Butch's voice kept urging, calling out to her horse to keep going on full speed. She feared her mount would give out. The young horse snorted in agitation, foam covering his bridle, but Butch showed no signs they were about to stop. The terrain changed underneath their feet, plucks of courageous desert grass poked out from beneath the sand. The rocks became bigger, sturdier, causing her horse to trip now and then, but never lose its footing. In front her, the peeks of the mountains appeared, growing taller as their distance narrowed. Butch came up to her, his own horse exhausted.
"Ye go ahead. Up the pass. Yer horse gives out ye get off and hold on to his tail!" He stopped, disappearing from her view. In panic, she pulled the reins as hard as she could, urging Bobby to come to a breezing halt. "Ah said ride on!" Butch called out to her angrily.
"But I don't know the way!" she protested. "What's going on?"
Butch took out his revolver, and cocked it while scanning the area they just came from. "We're being followed." He said. "Ah'll catch up with ye. Go!"
She tried to follow his gaze, a cloud of dust arising from the trail that lead them here. "Can they catch us?" she asked fearfully.
"Oh yea." He told her. "Now go! Give him yer spurs, come on!"
Suddenly reminded she was wearing Frank's boots, she dug the iron spurs into Bobby's flanks, sending him flying forward. She looked over her shoulder at Butch, his horse turning in agitated circles as he awaited the unfortunate soul that had decided to track them here. Her attention was brought back to the road ahead as Bobby started slowing down and ascending the first hill, the gravel moving under his smooth hooves. She leaned forward in her saddle, grabbing on to his manes. Trying to avoid the cacti growing on the mountainside, the horse directed itself up. She had no idea how high she was supposed to go. "Come on, Bobby!" she told her mount, his ears turning toward her voice. "You're doing great!" when she was sure the animal couldn't climb any higher, she pulled the reins to stop him and got off clumsily, the loose rocks sliding away under her boots. She grabbed on to the horse, startling it in the process. He reared in uneasiness of standing on a mountainside, the ground beneath him feeling slippery to his hooves. "It's okay! It's okay!" she tried to calm him, and peered over his saddle at what was unfolding at the foot of the mountain. Butch was only a small dot, but the rider approaching him, followed by a cloud of dust, was getting closer on rapid speed.
The attacker stopped suddenly, a good few feet away from the gang leader. Maybe words were exchanged, she had no idea. But when the unknown person fired a shot, Butch did the same. Both horses reared, but only the attacker's horse collapsed completely. The man, now trapped underneath his dead mount with one leg, could do nothing but struggle to break free. Another shot was fired, and the man moved no more. She watched the scene in horror, and buried her face into Bobby's manes, trying to fight back tears of fear and helplessness.
It didn't take long before she could hear Butch's voice urging his horse up the mountainside. "Git back on yer horse!" He called out at her. She did as he asked, despite Bobby's panicking.
"We need te git goin'!" Butch passed her, his horse somehow more adapt to climbing. He leaned over to grab Bobby's reins from her and tugged her along. "Come on!"
"Who was he?" she asked, clinging on to her saddle. Butch didn't answer as he steered both horses toward the right, to a more doable path up the mountain. "Was he one of the mercenaries?" she asked again. The landscape changed gradually. Pine trees appeared left and right, sprouting out of the rocky side of the desert mountain. It wasn't until they reached a clear trail, leading up, that Butch let go of her horse's headpiece with a firm push to the right.
"Stay in front of me so ah can see ye!" He instructed crudely. A little taken aback by the tone in his voice, she nodded shyly and urged her horse to take the lead. Thankfully, they continued the trail at a walking pace, granting their animals some rest, as well as themselves. It took another thirty minutes of riding, until Butch finally broke the silence.
"It aint never just one." He started. She looked over her shoulder at the sound of his voice.
"Excuse me?" She asked, confused.
"It aint never just one that follows. Where there's one, more will come." He explained. "Ah don't think he was one of the mercenaries. Ah think ah've seen his ugly mug before. He was one of Rosa's guards. Ah guess yer friend Elton promised these boys a bunch of smackers to git out there and git me." He let out a bitter chuckle. "Ah'd like te see them try."
She said nothing for a while, and allowed the information to process through her mind. Elton might be evil, but he wasn't stupid, she knew all about that. But she had never taken him for someone that would commit such lowlife deeds to get what he wanted. "Are you alright?" She asked after a while, not daring to look over her shoulder. To Butch, the whole shootout might have been a regular day in the desert, but she didn't like seeing him wrapped in a gunfight.
"Ahm fine." He mumbled. "Ah might be a damn idiot in fistfights, but ahm still a pretty good shot. Ah guess someone should have told him that." He huffed. "They all watched me get mah ass kicked by Jed, so ah guess they all thought ah forgot how te use mah guns as well."
She smiled to herself, his lively mood comforting her, easing her fears. "I suppose they all thought you're getting old, like Rosa did." She teased him lightly.
"Ah yea? Well, she should be the last one te complain about mah age." He bragged, causing her to roll her eyes. "Ah don't ever hear Ray get this kinda shit about his years. And that old goon is a damn relic!" she chuckled at the offended tone in his voice.
"So what do we do now? Where does this trail go?" she asked, peering over her shoulder again. He gazed at her for a moment, obviously pondering on his answer.
"This here trail is gonna take us into Injun territory." He nodded to the top of the mountain. "The North side of that hill is their hunting ground." She had paled slightly at his explanation, and followed his gaze up the mountain that suddenly seemed to loom over them.
"What Indians live there?" she asked fearfully.
He tilted his head, closing one eye in concentration. "Well, that depends." He started. "last time ah got 'ere it belonged to the Apache tribes. But their lands are next te the Tonkawa's, and they tend te piss eachother off for no reason, fight like damn dogs every now and then. So it might as well belong to them now, ah don't know." He shrugged, looking at her with a sheepish grin. "Ye scared of the Injuns, Sharky?" He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. "Scared yer gonna lose yer scalp?"
Embarrassed, she dropped her gaze. "I don't know." She answered truthfully. "Should I be?"
He shrugged again, uninterested. "Nah. If they're Apaches we might hit a rough patch along the road. If they're Tonkawa's there shouldn't be a problem. They're alright. Got some history with them Tonkawa's. They know me pretty well."
She frowned. "They know you..in a good way or in a bad way?" the question, that had meant little to her, seemed to mean a great deal to him, for his eyes met hers with a hardened look, like she had just insulted him beyond measure.
"Ah have no quarrel with those damn Tonkawa's! Do ah need te spell it out fer ye?!" He snapped, snarling angrily. "Mind yer own business. Stop prying! Eyes on the road and get movin'!"
"But I wasn't.." Startled at his sudden outburst, she shrunk a little, and decided to drop the subject and do as she was being told. Looking ahead of her, the forest surrounding them was getting thicker, and she took a moment to take in the sounds of the woods she hadn't heard in a while. Birds sung in the trees, and crickets ceased their music when they detected the vibrations of the horse's hooves as they passed by. Still climbing, the air got cooler, and she felt her lungs adjust to the cold. It was a dry, crisp chill, nothing like the damp cold she had experienced in the fort. Mountain air was supposed to be a lot better for you than the humid climate of the prairie, or so her grandfather had told her. She remembered a story from her mother, about a woman in Colby, moving to the mountains because her lungs were giving out on her. She had no idea if that woman was still alive. Or if her lungs indeed got better like the doctor had told her they would.
In these sort of moments, in which Butch proved to be a social disaster when it came to small talk, it was usually Frank who kept her spirits up with a silly comment or story. And if he was occupied, there was Skinny who always smiled brightly at her, by lack of knowing what to say to a girl. For serious questions, she could go to Barret, and if she caught him on a good day, he would grace her with an actual answer too. On bad days, he pretended she didn't even exist. She never expected her time alone with the leader of the gang to be a fun road trip, but she hadn't expected him to be cruel to her either, not after their, rather awkward, moments of intimacy they shared last night. But they seemed to be completely lost on him, and that hurt her more than she would ever admit to herself. He was right. She needed to toughen up if she was to stand a chance out here. Perhaps that would start by being honest.
"I have a confession to make." She started, not looking over her shoulder at him, half expecting him to just ignore her.
"Don't we all.." He mumbled gruffly, still in a foul mood. She sighed, this would have been easier if he had been his usual light-hearted self, but it seemed this was a part of Butch just as much as anything.
"I actually have no idea whatsoever how to handle a gun." She stated, and closed her eyes in anticipation of his reaction. "I just told you I did, because I was afraid of you."
He huffed with a half meant chuckle. "well, ah suppose that explains a lot." He grumbled. "Ye better drop that façade before it catches up on ye. Ah aint never met anyone who got better out of boasting about knowing how te handle a gun."
She rolled her eyes at his, unsurprising, lecture. "Yes, well.. I never expected this whole journey to happen when you showed up at my house. I decided to lie about it, so you would..keep your distance."
"Cuz ah was a real fright te have around while rollin' around in mah own vomit, yea, ah get ye." He bit back. Finding no sympathy, she said nothing, and regretted mentioning it altogether. "Ah guess it's just gonna be sumthin' we have te remedy then, aint it?" she didn't respond. "Anythin' else ah need te know?" she shook her head. "Ye sure?"
She turned to him sharply, glaring at him angrily. He raised an eyebrow at her haughtily, mildly amused at her indignation. "What?" He asked innocently. "Ye were on quite the little confession tour last night. Ah thought maybe they be needin' some alterations too."
"No, they don't!" she shot at him, and would have folded her arms had she not been riding a horse, and her hands were needed to hold the reins. Unlike Paluxy, Frank's horse needed guidance, and a constant reminder that he was supposed to keep moving. A short silence followed, she was fuming, muttering incantations under her breath. Until she calmed, and let out a soft sigh. "I kissed a boy when I was fourteen." She mumbled.
"What's that?" He asked, twisting his finger in his ear tauntingly, pretending to be deaf. "Come again, Sharky. Ah didn't catch that." She shot him another death glare over her shoulder, which he returned with a wink.
"I kissed a boy when I was fourteen." She said again, her eyes moving back to the road ahead of them. "Or he kissed me.. actually. I had little to do with it, and I suppose I didn't really have a say in the matter either."
He chuckled gruffly. "Then ah hope fer yer sake ye twisted his nuts in ah knot for pullin' that stunt on ye."
"Of course I didn't." she huffed. "Not everything needs a violent response."
He rolled his shoulders backwards, his back getting sore from riding. "Can't think of a better reason fer a violent response than that." He stated. "Alright, tell me.. what was yer response? Miss proper manners."
She hesitated for a moment. "Well I.. I was fourteen. Not exactly the age of possessing the wisdom of knowing what to do in such a situation." She defended herself. "I.. I didn't do anything. He came out of nowhere, and just grabbed me.. forcefully. He didn't mean any harm just.. playful banter, I suppose." Butch said nothing, and just listened. "He was one of those cowboys, you know. Cow herders. They were in town after a long journey and.. they drank a lot." She had no idea why she was defending the young man's actions right now, he had frightened her out of her wits that day, and his rude behaviour deserved punishment, or atleast correction. "There was a fair going on and I was there with a couple of friends of mine, other girls from the settlements that surrounded our farm. And well he.. he was there too and he grabbed me, pulled me into an alley, and kissed me. So there's that." She looked over her shoulder coldly. "There's your alteration. Are you happy now?"
He gazed at her impassively, tilting his head in thought, but refrained from speaking. There was no reason to answer her rhetorical question whether he was happy or not with the outcome of her story.
"I'm sure it happens to a lot of girls." She assured herself, her eyes nailed to the road again. "Colby can be quite a rough place. That why we didn't live there. That's why we lived out of town. Away from all that." His silence made her feel cornered, and she drew the conclusion he condemned the way she had reacted to the whole situation. "Don't tell me you've never done such a thing." She said bitingly.
"Ah sure aint never manhandled a fourteen year old girl." He spoke up for himself. "And how old was this addle-headed beef chasing buckaroo?"
"Older than me. By a long shot. I think he was nineteen or something?" She answered. He clicked his tongue in displeasure, but said nothing. "Should I have been more angry?" she asked carefully. "What would you do? Alert the sheriff? Mister Reid is too busy for things like that. They happen all the time. Don't they?" she looked over her shoulder at him with a pleading look. "Don't they?"
"Sure, Sharky." He told her after a short silence. "No big deal." He averted his eyes from her face in uneasiness. "We should get ourselves a place to camp for tonight. We're losing the light." He urged his horse forward, passing her, and taking the lead instead.
R&R please!
