Glitter and Gold

"Can't believe we're really doin' this."

Edward's palms sweat as he checked his pocket watch for the fifth time that hour.

A week ago this time he was doin' the exact same thing: breakin' into Forks Bank. The Lord had a real twisted sense a humor bringin' him back here this Sunday. Unlike the other week, the weather wasn't gonna hold out much longer. Heavy storm clouds rumbled in the distance. A bad omen if Edward ever saw one.

A week ago, he had three times the man power and Rosalie as lookout. Now, it was he and Jasper against the clock.

"Ain't got much a choice now do we?" Jasper said, focused on the bundle of dynamite strung together by baker's twine. It was a crude instrument, not nearly as good a work as Jasper normally produced, but it would work well enough. "It's betray Carlisle and die from his bullet or stay by him and die from the Sheriff's."

"Doesn't sound like either are good options."

"No. But that's the hand we've been dealt in life: shit. Best make it count while we got some cards left."

Jasper got up and placed the bomb against the newly-patched brick. The plan was for him to light it, wait a minute for Rosalie and Alice to provide a distraction which would cover the noise of the blast, then sneak in and work on the safe while Edward kept watch. A crude plan to match a crude instrument.

There was a thousand things that could go wrong, a thousand reasons to pack up and high tail it outta there, but the two boys stayed like loyal dogs. Even as Edward twitched and Jasper muttered prayers under his breath, they both knew they were stayin'.

"And Alice? She think the same way?"

"Alice'll be fine without me. She's got her horses and the least skin in the game."

"She loves you, Jace. Proper loves you," Edward replied, not believe'n a damn word outta Jasper's mouth. "That girl would tear every town west 'a the Mississippi apart if you'd gone 'n left her."

"I hope she'd have more sense than that," Jasper said, his voice quiet and somber as a church. He stopped fiddlin' with the strings, wipin' dirty hands on his chaps. "All I ask is ya take my body back to Texas and bury me next to my Ma. Dyin's just about the only good thing I'll ever do by her."

There he was, the good old Confederate soldier. A runaway and a deserter by the army's roster, but a soldier none the less. The only thing Edward knew about Jasper's past - that and his Ma didn't like it none that her baby boy was out shootin' people. That was the reason he ran West, he said. Couldn't take it none, shootin' on other's commands, and too proud to return home and see the look on his Ma's face when she'd realized he'd helped other men die.

Edward looked Jasper straight in the eye.

"Ain't no one dyin' today."

Jasper nodded. His face was grave - like a man who'd stared down Death itself. He held out his hand.

"You ready with the light?"

Edward set the match and let it burn down the wick. He and Jasper ran and tucked themselves round the corner. The explosion shouldn't have been that big, a few sticks a dynamite precisely placed on the weakest joints of the newfangled construction should do the trick without too much -

The ground shook and dust billowed as the dynamite went off. Not quite as quiet as he'd a hoped, but it would have to do. No goin' back now.

The two of 'em hopped over stony rubble to get to the safe. Just as predicted, the new safe was a contraption of beauty. Truly, the engineers and bankers cross this great country had outdone themselves. Every year seems like they invented somethin' that made thievin' harder.

But not impossible.

Jasper knelt in front of the safe, placin' his hand near the combination dial. It was a huge thing nearly the size of his head. The wheel to spin it open was even larger. It would take the both of 'em to muscle it open. If they could open it, that was.

"You sure 'bout this?" Edward asked. He looked around the empty bank, the familiar fixtures and floors. The bullet marks from last week still scarred the broken tile.

"Stop your worryin' and hush."

Edward did as he was told and kept watch out the front window while Jasper whispered sweet nothin's to the safe. Truth be told, Edward didn't know what Jasper did to get these things open. It was like his fingers were magic, blessed with the ability to break into places. If the safe could talk, he could persuade it to give up all its secrets.

The safe did just that, the screech of metal hinges spinnin' open drawin' Edward back to Jasper's side.

He helped his brother spin the damned thing open, a sheen of sweat spillin' down his brow by the time they'd cracked it. To hell with openin' the whole damn thing. Soon as the crack was big enough, Edward squeezed himself through.

What he saw inside stunned him.

"It's empty."

"Whaddya mean it's empty?" Jasper demanded.

His boots came clompin' in a moment later, stoppin' short as he took it all in: rows upon rows of empty tables and drawers. Not a single cent left behind. The whole inside was scrubbed clean, metal gleamin' in the afternoon light. Like someone's version of a joke.

"What in the hell..."

Edward walked forward.

On the floor was a slip a paper. Ripped at the edges, like it was torn from a diary. He picked it up, read the pretty cursive on the other side. A woman's hand, two words.

Start running.

If Edward wasn't so mad, he'd a laughed. Hell, laughed anyway. The universe had finally dealt its hand and decided that the Cullen family shall not have this gold. No, this gold was as good as cursed.

Cursed by Hell's Bells.

Only one woman would be bold enough, foolish enough, to play such a game. This had to be her doin'. She had told him she would kill him. She never said how, and she never said she would be the one to pull the trigger. That honor would likely go to the Sheriff. Or to the Good Samaritan who heard the explosion and came runnin'.

"We should go," Jasper said.

"What are we gonna tell Carlisle?"

"To Hell with Carlisle," Jasper spat. For such a calm man he was quite at his limit. "Imma 'bout done with his mess."

They walked out the way they came, quick as the thieves they weren't. As brave as Jasper spoke, Edward knew that Carlisle would be as mad as a nest a hornets. He'd beat 'em black and blue, their fault or not, and there wasn't a lick they could do 'bout it. They'd been granted a second chance at riches and squandered it. God would not be so kind as to give 'em a third.

Ain't nowhere for a sad bunch a motherless orphans to go. Nowhere good that was. Plenty a whore houses and coal mines to die in, but no kinda life that promised the rush of adventure and freedom. Carlisle Cullen was as good as any of 'em could get. Jasper wasn't gonna blow that, not in a million years.

His face looked mighty stormy however. Pinched in on itself like he'd sucked a lemon. It'd be miserable ride back to the house.

Edward crossed himself a time or two, prayin' to the good lord for protection against the storm to come.

"You'd a thought they'd spring for more security," Edward said to himself, passin' by the poor young boy tasked with guardin' the door. He didn't see the butt of Edward's pistol comin'. There'd be a mighty large goose egg on that flaxen head come sundown.

"Townsfolk gonna get real suspicious with two broken-in banks," Jasper muttered, walkin' up to Ghost and pattin' her down. "They ain't stupid. They gonna put two and two together and link our arrival with their missin' money."

"This whole thing was stupid to begin with," Edward agreed. "I dunno what's got Carlisle so hell bent on this money - "

Bullets whizzed by Edward's ear like angry hornets. They tore through his hat, the damn thing torn to tatters in the wind. He ducked to the ground and rolled behind the nearest post, Jasper right behind him.

"We've been made!"

"No shit!"

There was no choice. They had to make a run for it.

The horses nickered and whinnied as wood splintered round them and bullets lodged themselves near sensitive ears. When Japser dove to get a hold a Ghost, the poor girl nearly threw him. White as snow yet her flank was stained brown with dust and wood chips. Jasper would live to see Alice brush it out; Edward'd make sure of it.

Delilah was just as bad, rearin' back ready to kick when Edward pulled at her reins. He pulled her off the post just in time to have a bullet break it in half. Edward had rode bareback before; nothin' comfortable 'bout it, but it was that or die.

They were off, the Devil at their heels as they peeled down the road.

The French had a saying for this: déjà vu. Already seen. History was repeatin' itself, and this was no happily ever after.

Edward felt the earth fly under his feet, Deliliah moving like the wind as the town faded further and further from sight. Somethin' rotten twisted in Edward's gut. He couldn't stop lookin' behind him.

They'd have to sneak back into town after nightfall. Hope the coyotes or the snakes didn't bite while they roughed down in the mountains. Jasper would grouse and Edward wouldn't rest a wink, but they'd come back to the house to their beds and act as shocked as any townsfolk when the news of the robbery broke in the mornin.

It was a fine plan. Or at least it would'a been if God was on their side.

Last time they did this ride there was nothin' separatin' Edward from the wide open desert. This time there was somethin' waiting on the horizon: wayward specks that set that twistin' feelin' in his gut ablaze. These specks swayed from side to side, itchin' for somethin'. Waitin'.

This time, the posse was ready for 'em.

Edward and Jasper were forced to slow down, pullin' off to the side in attempts to out run 'em. It was a foolish notion. Up on the canyon, Edward spied the outline of men on black horses. Not the Trackers, but Natives. They stood stalwart, like the mountains themselves.

Everywhere he looked, every outcrop, there was someone. They aimed true, shootin' at their hooves, drivin' he and Jasper in narrow circles. There was no way out.

They were made.

Jasper pulled Ghost to a stop, Edward short behind him. They held their hands in the air, too scared to feel shame.

The posse took their time to meet 'em, likely enjoyin' themselves. It wasn't every day a man caught his prey. The man at the head of the group had skin dark and tough as leather, wrinkles cutting creases down his mouth and forehead. There was no emotion in those eyes, not like the men who followed behind him. He wore a white man's suit, all in black with black feathers in his hair. He said not a word - his badge did that for him.

Deputy.

He jerked his head back, takin' his horse with him. The message was clear: follow. If Edward and Jasper tried to run, they'd be followed. Or shot. Edward spied fair few guns up on those mountains.

One of those belonged to the couple furthest out: a black man seated on a black horse and a woman with long red hair.