OLD WOUNDS

"Jack, get in the house. Lock all the doors. Whatever happens, don't come outside. You hear me? Whatever happens."

"Who is it, Pa?"

"Just some old friends. Me and Uncle take care of it. Now you go inside and you keep the doors and the windows locked."

"I hear you."

"Then run!"

The word "run" echoed through Jack's mind as he snapped awake. It was the middle of the night, and the only light came from the dying embers of the fire that he and Cole had made. Jack looked voer to his left and saw their horses, which were both standing but were sound asleep. He looked to his right, and Cole was laying on his back, a blanket draped over his body. Jack sighed and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and poked at the dying fire with a nearby stick.

Immediately following the shootout at Chuparosa, Jack and Cole packed up all the weapons and provisions that they could carry and started for Nosalida. After traveling for the rest of the day, they made camp just north of Sidewinder Gulch. Neither of them spoke a single word for the duration of their ride together. When they made camp, the only thing they talked about was making the fire, and that conversation had been very brief.

Jack couldn't help but feel guilty about taking part in the massacre, even though he had fought the men who started the whole thing. He felt like it was his fault that the army came to Chuparosa, and that the blood of the Chuparosans who had lost their lives was really on his hands. Jack groaned and furiously poked the fire, sending ash and embers out of the little fire pit that he had made. With one last furious smack, Jack threw down the stick and buried his face in his hands.

The sound of the stick slamming into the ground woke Cole from his sleep. He instinctively grabbed for his pistol, which was just next to him, but stopped when he realized it was just Jack. Groggily, he said, "Damn it, Jack, what'd you do that for?"

"What?"

"You know what I'm talkin' about, boy." Cole sat up. "I noticed you haven't spoken much since we left. Something on your mind?"

"You ain't one to talk much either," Jack murmured argumentatively.

"I'd talk if you would. You still upset about what happened back in Chuparosa?"

"It's my fault the army came there. I must've made Reyes suspicious. Innocent people lost their lives, Cole, and it's my fault. I never killed anyone unless I felt like they deserved it."

"Jack, innocent people lose their lives every day. It wasn't your fault, it was Reyes who was responsible for the attack. That's why we're going to Nosalida."

"If it weren't for me, those people would still be alive."

Cole sighed. "Chuparosa's a town that's filling with rebels. Wouldn't be too surprised if the army returned soon and destroyed the whole place. Everyone there is willin' and ready to fight Reyes and his army to the death. You shouldn't feel guilty about any of this." Jack was silent, so Cole continued, "One thing I don't understand is why you're so distressed over this. You've killed your fair share of men, and innocent men at that."

Jack growled angrily. "You don't know nothin' about that," he snapped. "Besides, what happened back there…it made me remember…"

"Remember what?"

"It…" Jack struggled to find the right words. "It made me think of the army raiding our ranch and killing my father."

Cole looked apologetically at Jack. "I'm sorry. I forgot. You want to talk about it?"

"No," Jack answered. "I ain't one for talkin' 'bout my feelings."

"Suit yourself, Jack. I am a good listener, and it sounds like you need a friend to talk to. Let me know if you change your mind." The two men didn't share a single word for the rest of the night; both of them decided that they needed their sleep, and they closed their eyes and let the melodic chirping of crickets and the gentle breeze lull them to sleep.

Before sunrise the next day, Cole was up and rebuilding the fire. He was always an early riser, especially when he was on a mission like this one. Once the fire was lit and of substantial size, Cole walked over to his horse, opened one of the pack saddle's pockets, and pulled out four strips of bacon and a small frying pan. He then walked back to the fire and began making breakfast for him and Jack.

Jack woke up several minutes later to the smell of camp fire and bacon. He sat up and looked over at Cole, who was half standing, half squatting over the fire, and watched as he skillfully flipped the bacon over with a flick of his wrist and a shake of the frying pan. Deciding to speak up, Jack asked, "You done this much?"

Cole looked over at Jack and said, "Good morning, Jack. Did you sleep well?"

"No," Jack answered plainly. "The bacon done yet?"

"Close. And to answer your original question, I've done this a time or two before. Ma taught me how to cook over the fire when I was a boy and I never forgot."

"So what are our plans for today?" Jack asked. "We just ridin' straight to Nosalida?"

"Essentially, yes. Unless you got some place you need to be. Which I highly doubt."

Jack shook his head. "I ain't got nowhere special to go."

"Alright, bacon's done. Soon as we're finished eating, we'll take off."

"This early?" Jack asked. "I was thinkin' of goin' back to sleep for a while."

Cole laughed as he divided up the bacon. "Not at this time of the mornin', boy! I'm always up and at 'em before the sun even thinks about risin' in the morning." He gave Jack his share, still chuckling, and the two men ate in silence. Once they had finished eating, Cole extinguished the fire and put the pan back in his horse's pack saddle. Mounting his steed, he looked at Jack and wordlessly motioned toward Jack's palomino. Grouchily, Jack clambered onto his pony and they started off for Nosalida.

Jack squinted in the inky darkness as he struggled to see the road and Cole, who was riding ahead of him. Again he asked, "Why the hell are we even goin' this early?"

"Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise," Cole said.

"The hell does that mean?" Jack asked.

Cole sighed. "It's an old proverb, Jack."

For the rest of the morning, Jack and Cole rode in silence. The sun didn't begin to rise for well over an hour after they had left their camp, so when it finally did start to rise, Jack sighed in relief. The sun had not yet peaked above the horizon, but Jack was finally able to see what was ahead of him. That's when he realized just how beautiful the Mexican landscape was. Jack looked at the scenery around him in awe. He had been through this area a couple times before, but he had either been in a hurry or on some kind of mission. Never before had he taken the time to enjoy the scenery of Mexico, and now, he marveled in its beauty.

When the sun finally peaked above the horizon, it sent its warm, golden rays to the deserts of Mexico. As the morning progressed, the temperature began to rise, and it was in the triple digits before noon. Jack removed his hat, wiping the sweat off his brow, and took a swig of water from one of the canteens that hung on his horse's side. He then wiped the sweat that was beginning to drip its way toward his eyes, and less than ten seconds after his first drink, he grabbed his canteen again and took another big gulp.

Cole, too, was expressing discomfort at the heat. Though he was far more acclimated to the hot, arid climate than Jack, he had to admit that today was especially hot. As they rode on, Cole commented, "Hot day, isn't it?"

"The devil himself would think this is too hot," Jack responded, letting out a groan.

"So about last night. You ready to talk about it? We got all day; probably won't reach Nosalida until sundown."

Jack was silent for a moment, and to Cole's surprise, he said, "Alright. Might as well, to pass the time."

"Go ahead, Jack."

"I guess all of this started eight years ago. For a while, Pa was in a gang with a bunch of people. I grew up with that gang. Anyway, they decided to rob the bank in Blackwater, but before they did the people in town got word. The whole gang was ambushed and my Pa was shot. The rest of the gang left, and when they got back to camp they told me and Ma that Pa was dead. But later that night he came back and we all ran away.

"Pa bought a ranch in Beecher's Hope and we moved there. We took an old man we all called Uncle with us. He was in the gang with us, but they were talkin' about puttin' him down on account of how old and seemin'ly useless he was. We saved his life. He lived with us and things were good for a few years. Then, one day, a couple of men from Blackwater came and arrested me and Ma. They took us to a prison and told my Pa that they wouldn't release us until he helped them find the old gang. Pa put Uncle in charge of the ranch and started his quest."

As Jack continued to relay his story to Cole, he listened half in disbelief. He was surprised that Jack had suddenly decided to open up to him, and he was saddened by the story that Jack told. Jack recounted how he and his mother were treated fairly in prison, but there was one guard who always mistreated Jack.

"His name was Covington. Nathan, I think was his first name. He always looked at Ma with disgust, on account of her past as the gang's go-to woman. He looked at me as the bastard child who shouldn't have come from her womb, and he always spoke terribly of my father. He hated our entire family for some reason. The other guards treated him with respect, but always apologized to us for his actions. Hell, he even tried to flirt with Ma, but she put him in his place."

"What did she do?" Cole asked.

"Kicked him in the goods."

"Ouch," Cole said, flinching. "Must not have felt good."

"But that's only the beginning. See, she was so upset over his constant bullying that she took it a step further. When he recovered from being kicked, the two of them had a fist fight. A few other guards watched and tried to intervene, but Nathan told them to back off. Ma won the fist fight and Nathan was humiliated in front of his guard friends. No one messed with Ma after that."

Cole barked out a laugh. "Wow, seems like she was a tough one."

"She was," Jack said. "Took her three years to die. Tuberculosis took her not too long ago. But she held on for me. She was always supportive. She kept me from doin' stupid things, tried to raise me right. Now look at me. Wanted in America, wanted in Mexico. My parents didn't do a good job raisin' me, did they?"

"After listening to your story, Jack, I can say that they've done a fair job," Cole said. "We all make mistakes, and you've made some big ones, but here you are, fighting for a cause you believe in. And a good one that will help millions of people in Mexico. I underestimated you, Jack. You're one hell of a man."

By the time they finished talking to each other, they were close to their destination. The sun was just dipping below the horizon as Jack and Cole stopped for a brief moment to give their horses a rest. The early evening atmosphere was peaceful as the two men watched their horses graze on the bunch grass that grew on the Mexican plain.

"Thanks for openin' up to me, Jack," Cole said. "I think I completely get you now."

"It actually felt good to say some of that stuff," Jack said.

"I know what you mean." Cole turned in the direction of Nosalida. "I…" Cole fell silent as he saw a large cloud of black smoke rising from the direction of Nosalida. "Dear god…"

"What is it?" Jack asked. Cole didn't respond as he rushed back to his horse and quickly hopped on.

"Get back on your horse!" Cole demanded. "We need to get to Nosalida now!"

"What the hell is goin' on?" Jack asked. Then he saw the black cloud. "No!" he yelled. He leaped onto his horse and he and Cole galloped full speed to Nosalida.

By the time they reached Nosalida, the fire had died down somewhat. Several buildings were still aflame, however, and dead bodies and buckets of blood littered the ground. A few of the dead were wearing Mexican Army uniforms, and Jack immediately knew that Reyes was behind this raid. Suddenly, Jack and Cole heard an ear-piercing scream followed by a booming yell. Rushing to the scene, the two men watched as Jose Valentia fatally shot a soldier that was cowering on the ground. Two more soldiers rushed Valentia, but he was able to take them both down and emptied what was left of the ammunition in his gun into their bodies.

As he was reloading, he looked over and saw Jack and Cole. "Jack! Nosalida's being raided! You and your gringo friend need to arm yourselves and help us defend this place!" Jack and Cole immediately drew their guns and began searching frantically for the remainder of the Mexican soldiers. In less than a minute, a group of ten soldiers burst from a general store and opened fire. Jack, Cole, and Valentia opened fire; the gunfight was intense, and lasted almost a full minute. The three of them were skilled enough to take down the soldiers, but not without injury. Cole was struck in the shoulder and Jack was struck in the arm. Valentia was the only one who managed to get out of that scrape unharmed.

"What the hell is going on?" Jack asked wildly.

"Reyes is destroying every settlement with rebels. The tirano is trying to completely rid Mexico of our revolution by killing not only the revolutionaries but also innocent women and children."

"Oh god, Chuparosa," Jack said.

"My town…" Cole commented, his voice shaking with rage.

"Yes, they will probably attack Chuparosa as well," Valentia said. Seeing no other soldiers nearby, Valentia added, "I think we may have killed the last of them." The three men walked out of their hiding place and began to search for survivors and count the dead. A total of thirty-two Mexican soldiers was counted, but the total number of rebels dead numbered almost two hundred. Less than one hundred survivors were found. Several of them were wounded beyond recovery.

Jack felt rage flow through his veins, the likes of which he hadn't felt since setting out to kill Edgar Ross. Cole and Valentia felt the same rage. Reyes had gone too far this time, and no matter what it took, these three men resolved to take the tyrant down.