CHAPTER VI

VALENTINE, NEW HANOVER, JUNE 7TH 1900

Sawyer faced Vic. Vic was facing Sawyer. The tense air of the Valentine Saloon had doubled for these two men. Most, if not all of the other patrons had dispersed and left to get on with their days. Almost as if life and fate were giving the two men space.

After the bartender set up all the empty jugs to be cleaned, he quickly slipped out back to empty all the left-over bottles and to collect the money from the girls, leaving Vic and Sawyer alone at their table.

Vic sat as still as a rock; his eyes fixed on the young outlaw. Sawyer's face was still as fresh as though he'd never grew a strand of facial hair. He would probably look handsome if not for the huge purple bruise across the cheek.

Though still wearing his red bandanna around the neck, he'd bought himself a new long sleeve shirt from the store. Now he looked a little like a rancher's son, his shirt a darkish green.

Sawyer observed Vic's tie, badge, general demeanor and came to the conclusion he was a Marshall of some kind the moment he'd saw him at the bar. Usually the young renegade would've made a beeline for the shutters and never shown his face in Valentine again. But when he heard Vic was looking Roland too, he'd suddenly hatched an idea in his head.

Both men had a bottle of beer in front of them, though neither had been touched. Sawyer was nonchalantly turning the bottle on its spot with one hand, holding his ribs with the other.

Vic kept the stare going in pure silence, one hand under the table, grasping a LeMat.

Sawyer sighed, "Why you here?"

"For you." Quietly replied the Deputy.

"Yeah I figured that. What I don't get is you coming all the way from… New Austin, you said?"

Vic nodded slowly, eyes not even blinking.

"How the fuck did you, all the way out there, come to be after Roland?" Sawyer asked.

"And you." Growled Vic.

Sawyer looked up at him, didn't know what to do or say, so just shrugged his shoulders.

"Could you just give me a little something here? Anything at all? Or do I just gotta wait for you to pull that trigger under the table?" Sawyer asked, his own tone becoming darker.

"West Elizabeth." Vic started, "Strawberry. Few weeks back. You remember going through there?"

Sawyer looked up for a moment, "Yeah. Most of our trouble came from what happened up there."

"I'm sure it did… You and that piece of dirt killed a lot of people that day. And two of those folks were friends of mine. Other Deputy's from far out west." Grimly said the vicious lawman.

Sawyer listened and then tried to remember. Everyone who had died in his and Roland's path was a large number at this point. No way could the young outlaw remember anyone specific, let alone two particular Lawmen, who Roland probably did like to kill more than anything else.

"I don't remember... I just don't. Roland killed so many folks that I lost track of it all." Sawyer replied, his voice weak.

Vic eventually caught on that Sawyer had been holding his ribs practically all the time since they'd sat down. Something had happened to him, probably recently too. It had been so long since the maverick deputy really asked himself any questions about his targets or gave them any humane thought, but this situation was just a little too different for his liking.

"You trying to say that it was just Payne that killed all those people?" Vic asked, scowling, "That you didn't fire a single shot that took any lives?"

"Nah I ain't saying that, Deputy. I'm not some little bullshitter. I killed my fair share of people during my time with that… Beast." Sawyer admitted, sadness in his voice.

Vic kept his eyes on Sawyer like a hawk, waiting for any muscle to move in a way that gave him the right to shoot. But it just wasn't happening.

"Beast?... Stories say that cocksucker was your buddy." Vic asked, confused.

Sawyer sighed and groaned again, "Look, I don't know if it may have escaped your notice, Deputy. But there ain't no Roland Payne here, a'ight? And believe me you'd know the motherfucker if you saw him."

Vic kept listening; hand tight on the LeMat's hard, wooden grip.

"He's out there now. Probably killing, robbing and torturing more people. Maybe even worse, which he is capable of." Sawyer explained, pretty worryingly.

The young outlaw may have seemed like he was protesting too much to the casual eye, but Vic felt something else. Sawyer didn't sound desperate, he seemed more jaded and exhausted. Clearly, he'd been beaten, seeing as he couldn't stop clutching his ribs. And clearly, he was hiding himself from something, given his ridiculously obvious, clean shaven face. Despite all that, Vic still stuck to his guns, not giving any hint to what he was thinking or feeling.

"What exactly are you trying to say to me, boy?"

Sawyer's face loosened after another strain of pain, "I'm saying… In probably too many words… That I want that man dead too… Dare I say, more than any other one of you."

Vic squinted again,mouth tightening up, getting covered completely by his elegant facial hair. He watched as Sawyer took another, quite big, gulp of his beer.

"I guess I'll ask again… What are you trying to say to me?" Vic sternly asked, cryptically.

Vic thought it would confuse the younger, less world-weary outlaw, but it really didn't.

"That I think we could help each other." Sawyer stated finally, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.

Vic glared at his target, "Oh yeah? In what way?"

"You want him dead, right? Revenge... In some kinda way." Sawyer pointed at Vic, then to himself, "And so do I... For everything he's done to the world, and to me."

Vic didn't really know what to say. It had been a long, long damn time since he'd been in this sort of position with a job. He'd learnt many years before to leave emotions and opinions aside. Yet for some reason, Sawyer didn't seem like the rest. Most targets Vic hunted would be on their knees, begging for their life and freedom at this point. Trying to justify their actions with reason and morality. Yet Sawyer wasn't doing that.

Sawyer looked across at the brutal lawman, wondering what he was gonna say. Wondering if this huge risk he'd taken was gonna pay off. It took balls to stroll up to a deputy that was hunting for your ass and try to make a deal. But Sawyer wanted Roland, and was willing to do anything to get to him.

Vic, on the other side, really wanted to pull the trigger. His index-finger was twitching along with his right eye. Yet he stared at the younger guy with such a feeling that he didn't understand. By now, any other criminal would've been a corpse, tied to the back of April. Vic just wanted to shoot, but he just couldn't do it for some reason.

"What'd he do to you? After all the stories I heard back West about you two assholes, I find it hard to believe that you both just cut ties." Vic challenged the outlaw.

Sawyer cracked up a little, "It weren't as simple as that, Deputy. Those ties were not just cut. They were fucking snapped in two."

Vic grinned, "Okay... Consider this an official interrogation then. What happened? Tell me… Fast."

Sawyer exhaled deep, "About four days ago… We'd been on the run from Marshall's all the way from Strawberry, and just managed to lose 'em as we got to the Heartlands."

Vic kept listening to the story, gun still tight in his hand, saloon and anything else around becoming non-existent.

"For a long time, even before what happened in Strawberry... I'd wanted to get away from him. He could just kill anyone and anything, for like… Nothing." Sawyer told, his voice both a whisper and a growl, "I never wanted to do anything like what he was making me do. I never wanted to murder or pillage anybody."

Sawyer stopped to take another big drink of beer before slamming the bottle back on the dark oak table.

Vic was still glaring, fixated on the story, still having not tasted a single drop of his own bottle.

Sawyer went on, "Anyways… We made camp that night, got a little bit of food going. I was so tired, man. Riding with him was like riding with a grizzly. I never knew when he was gonna bite or claw or kill... Eventually I tried to stand up to him, and it was gonna get messy when uh…"

The young gun stopped pretty abruptly, annoying Vic as he was surprisingly very interested in the story the kid was telling.

"When what, kid?"

Sawyer sighed slowly again with anger, "Out of the bushes came this woman, and her little boy. He can't have been older than four or five."

Vic listened closer after that, like a startled wolf.

"I knew as soon as they saw us and Roland saw them, that they were dead." Sawyer admitted, now not making eye contact, "So I tried, man… I tried to tell them, tried to scare 'em both off before he made a move, but they wouldn't listen to me."

It seemed that Sawyer wasn't even telling this story to Vic anymore. The calm deputy just listened and watched his target with a little empathy as he seemed to be telling the story mainly to himself.

"Roland… That, piece of shit, got up and started sniffing around the poor lady. I knew… I knew exactly what he was gonna do." Sawyer said aloud, staring at nothing, "I couldn't sit there anymore, so I tried to stop him."

Vic leaned closer across the table, "What'd you do?"

Sawyer finally broke from his trance, wiped his damp eyes and looked back to the deputy sent to kill him.

"I aimed my gun at his head… Why I didn't pull that fucking trigger straight away, I have no godly idea." Sawyer told with such regret, "I guess I was scared… Wondering even in that fucking moment if I was doing the right thing."

Vic nodded slowly, his scowl long gone, "Then what?"

"It's all a blur from then on…" Sawyer said calmly before pointing to his face, "Hit me hard with my own gun… And I assume kicked my ribs until they shattered."

Sawyer finished his beer and then burped. The bartender, who had long been back in the Saloon, looked at Sawyer with a little distaste.

"I woke up a few days later, at this little ranch a few miles from here. This doctor, a good fucking man, told me Roland butchered both the woman and her son." Sawyer finally finished, before letting out a long and hard sigh, leaning back in the chair.

Vic had listened closely to it all, and the story of what Roland had done hit closer to the deputy's nerves than any of the others. He'd heard that he was a dangerous guy, but not as sick and twisted as what Sawyer had made him out to be.

"Only one question then, I guess." Vic said, "Why are you still here? Why didn't he just kill you?"

Sawyer shrugged again, "Not really sure. Although some guys tried to raid me when I was on my way here… They'd been sent by Payne himself."

"I'm guessing these raiders are no longer with us? Given you are?"

"No, they ain't." Sawyer admitted, "But one of them mentioned that Roland was trying to 'Test my metal', that's what I think he said."

Vic accepted that, "So to Roland now, this thing between you and him is just some… Sick game?"

Sawyer leaned forward again, "Everything is a sick game to him. It's just finally time someone ended that fucking game."

Silence then closed in between the two men. Sawyer had told his story, hoping Vic would see him differently.

Vic had heard the story, and did see Sawyer differently, but wasn't sure if he wanted to admit it or not. So he tried to challenge the young outlaw one final time.

"How is it that I know then... That you won't just kill me as soon as I walk outer here with you?" Vic asked, smirking.

Sawyer stopped still and thought, keeping his eyes fixed on the dangerous deputy. Both were trying so hard to read each other, but were both hitting the same brick walls. It seemed Vic was trying to get Sawyer to prove himself, but that wasn't just it. Vic believed everything the kid had said, but there was just something else he needed. Something to make him realise what kinda outlaw he was dealing with.

Slowly, Sawyer started bringing his right hand back out from under the table. Vic saw this and slyly drew his LeMat out of the holster.

"Consider your next move real carefully, Sawyer." Vic warned, his voice hard, looking at the younger guy's arm.

Sawyer froze, "If I was gonna kill you, Deputy." He then pulled out from under the table a fully cocked Schofield, "I'd have done it long before now."

Vic looked at the revolver in Sawyer's hand. Every chamber was loaded and the hammer definitely pulled back. The maverick hunter was stunned that he'd never noticed that. This kid had skills.

Vic just grinned, "A'ight, fairs fair, kid."

Sawyer nodded one, putting the Schofield down onto the table, infront of Vic's beer. Out of respect, which he was still trying to accept of himself, Vic uncocked his own revolver and laid it down on the table.

"I know you've got another one, Deputy." Sawyer said, smirking himself.

Vic laughed, almost a childish giggle. This kid was good. Both had a little laugh with each other, which broke the powerful tension. The bartender looked over in astonishment with a dropped jaw. Only a few minutes ago, he was preparing himself to mop some blood off of his floor. Now the two guys were having a chuckle together.

"So, Sawyer... How do you say we proceed from here?" Vic then asked, finally drinking his beer.

"You're asking me?"

"Well, you know the guy better than most. What'd be our best play?"

Sawyer now glared at the Vic, "Well how do I know you ain't gonna hogtie me when we leave this place, Deputy?"

Vic swallowed another mouthful, "I guess you don't, kid. But if I gotta trust you... You gotta trust me."

The young outlaw and the maverick deputy locked eyes again for another minute. There was still an uneasy truce at play, but both seemed to realize they were probably better off working together. Vic knew he had to put aside his violent urges, whilst Sawyer had to put away his usual contempt for men of the law.

Vic wanted Roland Payne dead, and he was gonna need Sawyer to do it. Sawyer wanted Roland Payne dead, and it was better to have someone's help than go it alone.

"Deal." Said the young outlaw, "Don't think I caught your name though, Deputy."

"Vic Noble." He replied, finishing the beer and wiping his beard, "What's your full name?"

"Don't have one." Sawyer said with a little laugh.

An eyebrow almost left Vic's head, "Okay then... Let's do it."

As both men began to stand from their seats, the shutters of the saloon rattled and the floorboards groaned as a few shady looking fella's strolled in. Vic and Sawyer both looked up and instinctively counted. There were three of them, all looking the same. Dark haired, unwashed, stubbled faced. The deputy and the outlaw looked at one another and then back to the trio of goons.

As usual in these instances, the bartender found himself in a bad spot, "Oh for fuck sake, we want no trouble in here!"

One of goons, wearing the same long dark coat as his cronies, looked at the owner after lifting his hat an inch.

"The trouble's already here." The stranger stated.

All three men looked directly at Sawyer and Vic, who still kept looking at one another, wondering what to do. Thankfully the saloon was empty of any other people, giving Vic a sounder idea on how to approach the situation.

Sawyer stepped forward a little, "You're damn right... 'Cause it just walked in."

The two goons behind what seemed to be the main guy became more uneasy. He had to wave them off for a second.

"You're the trouble, boy. You left three of my men out there on the plains... Dead." The boss man replied, clearly pissed off.

Vic looked at Sawyer, "Those the guys you mentioned earlier? Who knew Payne?"

Sawyer didn't take his eyes off of the strangers, "Yup, those are the ones."

The goons who'd just strolled in were a little stumped watching the two men have a casual chat in the midst of things, acting like they weren't even there.

"So these guys are friends o'yours?" Vic asked, hand hovering over the remaining LeMat.

Sawyer shook his head and smirked, "Friends of Roland's."

Everything went still, timed seemed to stop in that chilly saloon as the three strangers listened, puzzled.

Vic shrugged his shoulders, "A'ight then."

The Tumbleweed Deputy swiftly raised his LeMat and punctured the main stranger's forehead with a single shot. Sawyer very quickly rushed forward, through the ray of blood, and grabbed the goon on the right by the jacket with both hands. Frantically, the remaining stranger threw open his coat and reached for a concealed Sawed-Off, but he was stopped when another LeMat round pierced his temple, dropping him instantly.

With two of the strangers on the deck, leaving ever-expanding puddles of dark blood, Sawyer pummelled the last guy in the face before hauling him sideways towards one of the Saloon's windows. Vic watched, very impressed, seeing the goon fly through the glass and out into the filthy street. Sawyer took a second to wipe himself down, blood from the first kill dotted across his face and neck.

"Jesus, fuck!" Sawyer said, retching and spitting.

Vic still had his trusty gun aimed out, smoke fuming out of the barrel. When it became clear the goon out in the street wasn't getting back up, Vic put away his LeMat, picked the other one up from the table and holstered it on the other side.

Sawyer kept wiping away the blood with his own spit-covered hands until he was satisfied. The young outlaw went back to pick up his own revolver, looking up at Vic who was still staring at him with astonishment.

"What?" The fresh faced outlaw asked.

Vic just smirked again, adjusting his tie "Nothing."

Both the deputy and the outlaw turned towards the barman, who stood stiff and pale. Not the first time Vic had seen such a sight, probably not the last either.

"Uh... Sorry." Sawyer muttered, rubbing his ribs again.

Still no reply, the owner stood stone-faced, shaking a little bit.

"We'll just leave now, sir." Vic said calmly, walking towards Sawyer.

Vic nudged Sawyer and pushed him gently in the direction of the shutters. Sawyer stepped over the bodies, as did Vic, and quickly left through the shutters onto the deck outside the Saloon. The young, blood-covered outlaw stepped off of the deck and into the mud below, where the one remaining stranger was still trying to crawl away, dazed and perplexed after crashing through the window.

The Tumbleweed hunter followed closely behind. He shamefully shook his head when he saw all the lazy people of Valentine, who'd been sitting on their asses most of the day, finally get up just to watch the commotion. They were all standing at the edge of the wooden decks, yelling and shouting amongst themselves.

Vic shivered a little, the air still as cold as it was when he went into the saloon.

Still seeing no reason to unholster his revolver's again, and having been impressed so far, Vic let Sawyer do his thing.

"Don't go anywhere!" Sawyer shouted sarcastically, kicking the man as he crawled.

This goon was completely covered in mud after the fall and all the crawling. Even so, you could see the bloody redness amongst the dark browns and blacks, his face having been cut and slashed from the shards of glass he flew through.

Sawyer, for second time that day, found himself stood over a man who would beg him for mercy. The young, injured outlaw once again cocked the hammer of his Schofield and aimed it down, shoving the stranger onto his back with a boot.

"Those were your guys out there?" The young gun asked.

The stranger just panted heavily, his eyelids invisible among the dirt and sludge.

"Speak up... Or I'll force it outer you." Sawyer snarled, crouching down over him.

Vic took the time to observe the people around, on either side of the street, lighting up a cigarette while he did it. Some people would've surely interfered if not for the deputy's badge being on show.

With still no response, Sawyer then grabbed the stranger with one hand and pulled him up closer, "Roland Payne... Where is here?"

Suddenly that's when the defeated stranger finally opened his eyes. They were glazed over, still not fully aware of where they were, but were a perfect white against the black mud. Sawyer stared right back at him, Schofield pressed hard against the man's cheek.

Instead of talking, the man began laughing to himself. Loudly, everyone around could hear. It left Sawyer a little dumbfounded, was it just injuries? Or was this guy playing him on purpose? Sawyer wanted to know, because if these guys were O'Driscoll's too, they were sure sent by Roland too.

No matter the stare, no matter the threat, the man just kept laughing. It turned almost into an evil-sounding cackle. Sawyer felt himself getting more and more pissed as it went on. Then just as the young outlaw pulled back to hit him with the Schofield, Vic's arm reached over his shoulder and silenced the stranger with another bullet to the skull.

Sawyer was shook when it happened, sharply dropping the corpse and standing right up. He paced around, looking at the bystanders, the corpse and then finally back to Vic.

"Why'd you do that?" He asked, rightfully so.

"It was useless, kid. He was trying to make you kill him." Vic replied calmly, puffing at his cigarette.

"We don't know that." Sawyer replied, wincing and confused.

"I know that. I've seen enough defeated villains in my time to know when they're practically begging you to off them."

Sawyer kept looking between Vic and the body, trying to make a bit of sense, holstering the revolver as he did it.

"Well what the fuck do we do now? We could've questioned him! Isn't that what you fuckers do?" Sawyer raised his voice before pointing at the saloon, "Hell you just got my full life story in there!"

Vic took another drag, "You were the target... At the time."

Sawyer took a second to listen and calm himself down.

"I needed info from you, kid. But him... We didn't need. I already got myself a lead on Payne earlier today."

"Oh yeah? And what lead's that?"

Vic gestured his hand down the street behind Sawyer, "The hotel. Barman told me that's where he stayed a few days back. Can't hurt to go take a look."

Sawyer glanced behind at the hotel. He'd never really thought of that place, his mind being too occupied on laying low when he'd arrived in town. But this was good, because it was finally a lead. Not much but a lot more than either of them of them had that morning.

Sawyer, now calm, nodded once to Vic who returned the gesture. They were both on the same page, something that seemed impossible a half hour earlier. Now they were both on the hunt. Together they looked around at the groups of onlookers until they all got back to minding their own business. Clearly the two were already a fear-inspiring sight. And after killing the stranger in what seemed like cold blood, Vic's reputation in town probably sank further into the mud.

After spending a few minutes thinking hard, not speaking a word to one another, Sawyer looked at Vic and pointed towards the hotel down the street. Vic agreed, finished his cigarette by stomping it in the damp dirt, and the two then set off to pursue their sole lead.