CHAPTER 14 – LOSS OF THE POET

I paced around, my hands shoved into my pockets, kicking at the dusty ground. What the hell had made me tell Chavez all that shit? He probably thought I was a complete fool. Surprisingly, though, I did feel as if a big black ball of something nasty inside me had suddenly dissolved. People always said talking about stuff made it better and I never believed it. I'd always kept that shit well buried, but maybe I'd been wrong. I knew I could trust Chavez with it; he would never speak of it to anyone else and somehow it made me feel stronger.

I wandered around a little longer and then made my way towards the building. It was starting to feel somewhat chilly, a sharp breeze blowing over the hills. When I ducked through the crumbled old doorway into the largest sheltered area, all of the others were sitting in there, Chavez having gone to join them when I walked away from him. Doc was feeding twigs into a struggling fire, Hendry and Chavez sitting on the ground leaning against the wall, Billy on a rickety old chair. I sat down in the opposite corner to Doc and avoided looking at everyone.

It was only moments before Doc and Billy began to fight. Billy revealed that the Mexican Blackbird was in fact the name used for a half-black, half-Mexican whore and that the trail didn't exist. He had no intention of going to Mexico where he would end up just another gringo that no one knew.

Doc leapt to his feet, rifle in hands. "You rode a fifteen-year-old boy straight into his grave and the rest of us straight to hell!" he declared. I stared up at him, as did the others. "You are not a God!" he shouted at Billy, pointing the gun at him.

"Why don't you pull the trigger and find out?" Billy asked calmly.

Doc backed down after a minute and said he was leaving. I was a bit disappointed. Doc could be quite amusing when he was pissed, but he was more concerned about getting home to his little China girl and their baby than attacking Billy. He grabbed his things and stepped out of the doorway.

The air seemed to shake with the sound of the gunshot and Doc staggered back in, a huge hole in his middle, blood oozing from his mouth. The rest of us all leaped to our feet in horror, grabbing shotguns and pistols. Chavez went to Doc as he collapsed on his back and began ripping up pieces of blanket to soak up his blood. It was obvious that he had minutes left only. I joined Billy at the doorway, firing repeatedly back at Garrett's men, who had sneaked up on us and were now taking cover behind various rocks outside.

'I should have seen them,' I thought to myself. 'I was out there and I saw nothing. I could have stopped this.'

Suddenly Billy began telling me to lead everyone out since it was my gang. Lead them out to certain death. It didn't surprise me; I knew he didn't give two hoots about me.

"It's not my gang, it's your gang, it's always been your gang!" I protested. The number of times he had reminded me of that fact and now he decided he wanted to give me the title of leader to save his skin.

Billy jabbed the barrel of his pistol into my chest. "Don't cross me, Dave," he said grimly.

We were interrupted by Doc, on his feet now and supported by Chavez, a gun in one hand. He appeared to be keeping on his feet only by willpower and at that moment I felt admiration for him.

"Let's finish the game," he said, blood dribbling down his chin. Billy looked back at him, then pulled the gun away from me and put it into Doc's hand. Doc then proceeded to prove himself a hero by walking outside to his death, firing both guns to give the rest of us cover. Billy leaned against the edge of the doorway, firing past Doc.

Chavez, Hendry and I all ducked outside one after the other and ran around the back of the building to find cover in the rocks and bushes as far from Garrett's posse as we could get. Some of them shot wildly at us and Chavez turned at the last moment and shot one of them as he ran into the open to try and catch us before we got out of sight. I ran to my horse, hauled myself into the saddle and blew another man away as he emerged from his cover and took a few steps towards the building where Billy still hid.

Hendry grabbed his horse then and mounted quickly. As far as I could tell he hadn't shot anyone so far and I doubted he had it in him. Bullets were peppering the ground around us and miraculously not hitting either us or our horses, but I knew it was only a matter of time before one or both of us bought it.

I couldn't see Chavez anywhere and I didn't know if he was alive or dead. My heart felt like it wanted to stop beating and I felt complete panic engulfing me, which was something else new to me. Fear for someone else was worse than anything else I'd experienced and I decided the only thing for it was to get out of there as fast as possible and put it all behind me. I couldn't handle feeling like that and I yelled at Hendry to follow me, urging my horse further from the gunfire.

"Chavez is back there!" cried Hendry, hesitating.

"Hendry, you've gotta forget about him, he's buzzard meat, they all are, it's just you and me now," I said. "Come on!" I couldn't quite believe the words were coming out of my mouth. It was what I would have said weeks ago, or even days ago. Running away was the only thing I seemed to know how to do properly.

I turned my horse and pushed it into a gallop, knowing yet again I was doing the wrong thing. When I looked over my shoulder, Hendry wasn't following. He began to trot in the other direction, looking for Chavez. When a gunshot rang out seconds later, Hendry tumbled from his saddle and I cursed under my breath, hauled on the reins and halted my own horse.

What the hell was I doing? Running off like a coward, leaving the only friend who had ever shown any loyalty to me at the mercy of the sheriff and his soldiers. Someone I found myself caring about, godamnit. I was running because I was scared. Not of the fight - maybe I'd get shot and die, maybe I wouldn't, it didn't matter. It was my feelings I was scared of. They were drowning me and I had no idea how to deal with them. For the first time in my life - not counting when I was a kid and at the mercy of my Ma's man - I felt vulnerable. I'd told Chavez something that nobody else knew, opened myself up in a way I'd never thought I would and... I sucked my breath in hard as the next thought came to me. Somehow I had lost my tenuous grip on what I thought mattered and fallen. Whether he would still be there to catch me was another matter.

"Shit!" I muttered. "Son of a bitch!"

I wheeled the horse around and began to race back the way I had come, praying to a God I hadn't spoken to in a dozen years that I wouldn't be too late.