4
"Daddy, we can get those son of a bitches."
Morgan glared at his child from their hidden perspective in the tall grass at the top of the hill. "What did you just say, Son?"
"Sorry, Daddy. But shouldn't we help?"
Gunshots echoed from the distance overreaching the shouts of men and clomping of hooves. Morgan huffed and looked back to the valley below after pushing Duane's head lower for his protection. "That's the thing son, which one of them is the son of a bitch? How do we know which ones to help?"
"He could be a bank robber?" Duane pondered for a moment as the man that was being pursued slowed his horse in a thicket of high shrubs.
He quickly jumped off his saddle with weapon in hand, rolling down to the ground so the father and son could scarcely see him. His movements were smooth and precise, as though unaffected by the whizzing bullets that aimed to tear into his flesh. His hunters must have believed he'd been taken down by one of their rounds. They holstered their firearms while running their horses to view, scavenge and maybe, take the trophy of the body.
Much to their surprise, a shot, much louder from the silencing of their guns, rang out. The body of the first of the five men on horses flipped backward. Trapped in his saddle, his steed continued on in a haphazard pattern, providing cover and confusion for the man hidden in the grass to use to his advantage. Morgan couldn't help but grin when the following rifle blast dislodged the second man from his horse, sending him tumbling to the ground. The ruse was up now and the leftover men pulled their guns, ready for vengeance as they bared down.
"Duane, stay low and get back to the cabin."
"But Daddy..."
Morgan voice grew stern "Get." and his son followed his directions without another word.
The lone man must've been ready for this eventuality and he sprung up with his six shooter in hand. He aimed at the closest man, squeezing the trigger while using his off-hand, quickly fanning the hammer. Morgan was amazed by the skill of rapid fire that many claimed to be able to perform. Most couldn't get it done to even hit the broad side of a barn, let alone with heart pounding while rivals countered them.
From the distance, he couldn't be sure how many but it seemed a couple of the shots lodged in the chaser before he tumbled to the hard ground close to the man. Morgan wasn't sure what side to be on but this display alone deemed his intervention, so he readied his rifle lining up a shot. He had seconds to decide but he pulled the trigger, taking out the slowest pursuer. It was the only option he had of accuracy and he hoped it bought the man a fighting chance with the remaining one.
The discharge of Morgan's weapon distracted both men for a second but the gunslinger grabbed the discarded gun of the man that fell near him. Simultaneous shots rang out and the men shouted as they were both hit. The man on horseback fell but the other held his side, struggling to stride towards him. Morgan watched as the man on the ground scrambled backwards, trying to reload his weapon while being approached.
Once the man, who he had just been in the act of attempting to murder, stood over him, he dropped his weapon, placing his hands in the air begging for mercy. But the lone man provided none, he cocked the hammer then aimed dead center. A bullet to the head collapsed the pleading man to the ground.
This man had beaten the odds with a bit of help from Morgan who watched him stumble to the other downed men, putting rounds in them to make certain. By time he got the one that Morgan's rifle had dispatched, he was swaying from either exhaustion or his wound, more than likely a combination. He looked in the distance hastily as he clutched his bloody side.
"Come on out!" he shouted.
Morgan contemplated the best way to do this without being shot by this practiced fighter. But he didn't have to think for too long when the man's reddened hand dropped from his body just before he buckled in a heap. He used his wits and approached cautiously after he'd seen him conduct a similar stealthy maneuver just minutes before.
The smell of fresh gunpowder tickled his nose when he stood, making his way down the hill into the battlefield. "I'm Morgan, stranger and I tried to help you."
He announced as he eased over to the fallen man to discover he was truly unconscious or perhaps dead. Pushing the gun from his hand was the first call to order. After, he kneeled and checked if his chest still rose and fell. And it did, making Morgan chuckle.
"You are one lucky son of a bitch. But why did you have to come to my valley?"
"Daddy! He's awake!"
Rick heard a boy shout near him as he struggled in his attempt at sitting up. Restraints applied to his wrists kept him tethered to a bed in a dimly lit room. His last moments of being in a gunfight jolted him back to consciousness, well after the battle was over. The night's sky was dark through the window, except for the light of the moon, allowing his eyes to adjust.
Heavy footfalls combined with the child's sent him into a panic to free himself. He couldn't know what his captors had in store for him but he did know they could tie a hell of a knot. His arms couldn't budge more than an inch.
"Those the knots they used when they didn't have irons for us. Used them on the boats in a pinch when they brought us over, is what they say. You can manage to get free but it'll take a lot longer than you can imagine." the brown-skinned man presented his wrists by the candlelight he carried so one could see the burn marks embedded in his skin. Rick glared at the bald man but kept the pull on his restraints, making the man titter.
"I didn't expect anything less after the way you took those men down in that valley. If I was a betting man, I sure would've lost." he chuckled as he pulled up a stool and sat unperturbed next to the bed.
"My boy…" Rick and the man glanced at the child that anxiously stood in the threshold. "…we were out hunting before you came along. I decided to help you with one going against my rule. But I don't know… something seemed different about you. Something worth saving."
The man leaned in close so he could whisper, just for Rick. "Don't go making a fool out of me in front of my boy now. I've got to teach him to go with his instincts on situations in life. If you counter that, those stitches I put in you, days ago could come a loose. That would be a shame since I did such good work."
"Days ago?" Rick asked in a low raspy tone of voice from no use.
"Almost a week, Mister. My daddy and I been taking care of you. Making sure nobody-"
"Duane." his father chastised him.
"Thank you." Rick nodded at the boy who smiled, stepping forward slightly.
"Thank you." he repeated to the man, conveying his agreement to the hushed warning. He suddenly felt safe here since so much time had elapsed and he'd seemingly been cared for when most would've left him for dead. Or sought whether a reward was to be had on his head.
"You owe me an explanation. I had to bury those men you brought to my doorstep to keep me and my boy safe."
"Did you keep the horses?"
"Naw, set em free after I took the saddles off."
The boys eager voice jumped in. "I wanted to keep some of their stuff but Daddy said if we got caught with any of it we would be in big trouble. Probably hanged."
Dry-throated coughs began to rack Rick as he responded. "Unfortunately…your father's… right, son."
"Fetch him some water, Duane."
The boy ran from the room quickly but Rick still struggled to speak.
"I accused them of cowardice when they sat by and watched an old man be robbed. Didn't know they were all together."
"Yeah, that's all it takes to bring death to your doorstep. But you weren't just running from those men. I see a man on the run every time I happen across a mirror."
Rick's face conveyed his anxiety at the way this man could see so easily through him.
Duane's return could be heard and the excited boy entered with a full pitcher and a tin cup. He tried as careful as he could to pour the water into Rick's mouth, but some spilled as he choked, remembering how to swallow again.
"I'm gonna untie one of your hands to make this easier." Rick nodded and the man moved to untie one hand. He was given another cup full of elixir and he heartily gulped it down before he felt the darkness closing in on him again.
"Rick Grimes."
"Morgan Jones and you already know my son's name is Duane." Rick looked to the empty doorway.
"He's asleep. And it's been another day."
Rick touched his sore but healing side. "You didn't open my wound so there's that."
Morgan chuckled. "And your arm is still free."
"Yeah." Rick snickered.
"Did I slow you down?"
Morgan grinned as he thought to himself. "I don't rightly know. I should've, could've gone by now but I haven't. But I reckon I can say thatmany times over in my life."
"I guess that's true for a few of us." Rick absentmindedly touched an old wound on his bare chest.
"Duane thinks you were a bank robber." the men chuckled. "But by the looks of it, you could be the most deadly Dillinger."
Rick snickered. "Yeah, that's me alright."
"What's your wound?" Morgan used his chin to gesture.
"I got shot. Went right in under my arm and exited clean through my chest."
"Oh, I already knew that." Morgan chuckled to Rick's surprise. "Like Jessie James but, you survived."
Rick chortled unbelievingly at this man's intuition before Morgan continued. "Lucky is the way I see it."
"Yeah, that's the way it felt." Rick responded sarcastically.
"Man's been through what you have, usually don't live to tell the tale."
"I'm not sure what the sense is in it, is all."
A wide smile spread across his hosts face and he looked off in the distance as if at a fond memory. "All life is precious."
Rick snorted. "That sounds like pie in the sky."
Morgan snickered again and nodded. "It was a lesson I learned the hard way after my Jenny…"
Even with the wistfulness in his voice, Rick recognized the loss dulling the whites of his eye. "I'm sorry."
"She took ill suddenly. Gone so quick, the fever burned her up before I even knew it was too late. Duane stayed with some nice and concerned people while I went off… for a while. I was fortunate to free myself."
Rick looked confused. "Is that what you are running from? Were you imprisoned?"
"A confinement of my own making. But, what's your wound?"
Rick chewed his lip when the unpleasant memories threatened to bring bile to the back of his throat. He swallowed it down deciding whether giving voice to it was somehow a part of this process. The least he could do for a stranger that saved, fed, and sheltered him. A man that clearly had more at stake. A man that knew a thing or two about being haunted.
"I was elected sheriff in a small but up-and-coming dusty town that people road through on the way to where they were going."
"A persuasive man." Morgan smirked and Rick raised his free hand as he sighed not accepting the compliment.
"Before I was promoted, the pay wasn't always the best. On occasion me and some of the deputies, including my childhood friend, would hunt outlaws the banks or detectives needed help catching. You know just to make ends meet." Morgan nodded his understanding.
"I didn't need to engage in that anymore but I didn't keep my boys from it. Anyway, some time passed. I've- I'd… experienced a loss and threw myself into the work. In the process, I found out my friend was involved in extortion while freelancing. After I complied evidence, I confronted him. Not necessarily to turn him in, but to convince him to do the right thing going forward." Rick chuckled mirthlessly.
"I guess he didn't take kindly that."
"No, no he didn't. He blamed me for…" Rick sighed despondently "Long story short, left me for dead but I survived."
"That you have. But what's your plan now, since vengeance didn't do you in?"
Rick sighed. "I'm just, just here until…"
"Naw." Morgan smiled, unnerving Rick from his attempt at wallowing. "A man ready for the end doesn't fight for his life the way I witnessed."
"Instinct-" Rick tried to interject.
"Bullshit, you're searching for something. May not know what, but you are."
Rick shook his head side to side but Morgan was undeterred. "You can rest up longer, but me and my boy will be on our way soon enough. You're welcome to keep the place unless the rightful owners come along." the men chuckled looking around the sparse place.
"I'm mighty obliged by all you've done for me but I should shove off in a day or two. Let you get back to your plans before I crudely burst in your valley." they snickered again.
Morgan stood and came over to untie Rick's other hand so he rubbed at the irritated skin. "Well, let's get you something to eat. Gotta get your strength up for your quest, stranger."
"Morgan, take this."
"Now Rick, what am I supposed to do with that? Go run off, pretending to be Bass Reeves or something?"
"Walter Moses Burton? They are still around so I don't think that's a good idea. But use it to get to Canada. I hope it'll make it easier to cross the borders."
Morgan stared in the distance, letting Rick know he wanted to make his own admission after this stint together. "Rick, when I was gone, the man that helped me died and they think-"
"I don't need to know." Rick shook his head. "Just get you and your boy wherever you want to go. Start over and be content." Rick pressed the metal sheriff's badge into Morgan's hand.
"It's not too late for you either, Rick."
"I don't know if that's true."
"Can't keep running from your demons. They are bound to catch up with ya. Just remember, you don't have to go it alone."
Rick thought about that for a moment. Was that what he was doing? Had he only convinced himself he was just better alone? Only time would tell.
"Only thing men that who go alone can bring is suspicion and fear with them. I'll just have to hope that's what anyone will see when they glance at me."
Morgan snickered as his son scampered from inside the house to join them. "Then insanity will be your best weapon."
Rick laughed fully the way he used to before extending his hand for a hearty shake. "Thank you Morgan. Duane, take care of your father."
The young boy beamed with pride at the task granted him. "I will, Mr. Grimes."