Chapter 1
He fiddled with the trigger of the revolver, stiff it was, sticky too. Like some damn fool spilled molasses on the thing. Still, it would do its job well If he had to use it, or he hoped so anyway. The moon had set itself high in the sky, stars staring down on the world with no smog or smoke to suffocate them, or the people of Valentine.
Perfect cover for their little plan, should be a decent enough payday, least enough cash to see him through the next couple days and work towards getting himself a proper horse, provided he decided to curb the frivolous spending he usually engaged in.
"You ready back there boy?" Old Hector wheezed, the old goat was clenching his rifle so hard Connor thought it would break. He was surprised he was still going if he was honest with you, his big moustache were turning yellow, and Connor could tell If it came to a chase with the law, he won't be able to even jump a damn fence. He almost wished for Hector to be caught, the lack of his presence would be a blessing.
"The names Connor old man, and that's the third damn time you've asked that" he spat, they had been crouched down behind this saloon for near an hour at this point waiting for some wealthy tourist to stumble out back, Hector had paid a working girl to lure him out here, but she was taking her sweet time.
"You sure this girl didn't just take yer' money and split?" Connor asked.
"I'm sure, I've been doing this longer than you have boy, you should listen to your damn elders" A spray of spittle came from his mouth, Connor shook his head, he had barely known Hector for a week, and he did not like him one bit, he smelled like shit and looked even worse.
Only reason he hadn't ditched the fool was cuz he didn't have no way out of this place, and he did have good info on a wagon the two of them had stuck up, they must've looked ridiculous, two fellers riding away on the starving pile of bones Hector called Grant, his long-suffering horse.
"Where you from anyway boy" Hector inquired after a second, picking something out of his teeth with dirty hands.
Connor furrowed his brow.
"I do something to suddenly pique your interest in me?"
"Nope. Just can tell when someone's family's got money and we got time to kill." He said, looking Connor up and down, paying particular attention to the scratched silver pocket watch affixed to the front of his dark blue vest.
Connor instinctively covered it up with his hand.
"Out east" He answered bluntly.
"Out east" he repeated, in the tone of a dullard.
"Are you trying to die old man?" Connor said forcefully, placing his finger on the sticky trigger of his Cattleman Revolver.
He gave a wheezing laugh, ending it by spitting some flehm in the mud.
"Calm down boy, you ain't have jokes out east?" he said. Oh yeah real funny Connor thought, he really couldn't wait till he could get rid of this old bum.
"Well, I can tell yer daddy's got money, the hell you sticking folks up for? The thrill?" Connor sighed.
"My family ain't none of your concern, and neither are my reasons, we're just working together, it don't go deeper than that." He responded, poking his head out of there cover behind the fence to peek at the back of the saloon, no one, just the sounds of revelry and the yells of drunken ranchers.
He gave another laugh that sounded like the gasps of a dying man.
"Well, aren't you soo mysterious, you can be honest with me boy, no damsels around you can impress with the mysterious gunslinger routine." He mocked, Connor was about to sock the man in damn face.
"Keep talking and I'll shove that rifle in your damn a- "He cut himself off with the sound of the back door to the saloon opening, Hector poked his head over the fence, followed by Connor.
Sure, enough here came some rich looking dandy, red faced and drunk, clinging to some working girl like he'd trip without her support. They were laughing about something looking all happy, it made Connor almost pity the poor bastard, but then again, he saw the rings and expensive gold watch and that feeling quickly faded.
"Ready?" he asked, Hector nodded quickly, positioning his rifle on the fence, providing cover for Connor, ideally, he wouldn't have to do squat but sit on his ass but never hurts to be careful.
Connor pulled the black bandanna over his face, clenched his gun and stood up. Marching purposefully over to the couple, now sitting on a pair of stairs leading to the second floor and sharing a cigarette.
The idiot didn't even realize what was happening till he had a gun pointed straight towards his face.
"Step up now, slowly, any sudden moves and your brains are gon be painting that poor girl" he spoke, the idiot looked at Connor and then at the gun pointed right at him.
"Wha- Wait, wait, easy now mister, easy now!" he said, shooting up shaking with his arms pointed straight at the damn sky.
"Get out of here now" He looked confused for a moment before he realized, with the quick scurrying away of his female friend, who Connor was talking about.
"Wait you set me up, you damn harlot, you jezebel!" he roared, at the back of the girl who simply strolled her way around the corner of the saloon and out of view.
He pushed the gun even closer, the cool steel touching his forehead.
"Show some respect and shut yer damn trap, I hear another word I swear to god I will pull this trigger" Connor spat, the idiot shriveled up quick, mumbling out pleases and oh god no's.
"You know the drill, empty your pockets, all of it and give me the watch and those rings too. I think your holding out on me an- "
"You'll shoot me, yes sir I believe you've gotten your point across" The idiot was sweating now, his hair matting to his head, and it was only at this distance that Connor realized just how young this fella was, he was probably younger than himself and Connor was only nineteen.
He followed his orders good though, taking off the rings, the watch and fishing out a few notes and coins.
"Listen you don't know who I am friend, my fath- "he began as he dropped a silver band In Connors outstretched hand.
"I don't give a damn just who your daddy is boy, but I'm sure he'd be sorely disappointed to learn his darling son got himself killed because he didn't take off his damn watch fast enough!" Connor cut him off and gestured him onwards with his outstretched hand.
"Mr. Waters!" A yell came from behind Connor, he spun on his heels and saw two men leaving the exit of the saloon with rifles in their hands.
Just as he turned, he heard the crack of a rifle and the man who yelled out fell in the muck, a spurt of blood sprayed out from him and on to the floor.
The second man raised his rifle at him, he was quick, but Connor was quicker, bringing up the revolver and squeezing the trigger extra hard, sending a bullet right in his chest and his body falling backwards on his back into the saloon that he had just stepped out of.
"BOY!" He heard Hector yell, Connor turned once more and saw the drunk fella reaching into his coat pocket and saw the glint of something silver, without hesitation he cocked his revolver once more and let loose another bullet that found itself straight in the youth's neck.
He fell back on the stairs, clenching his neck, dark crimson blood illuminated by lantern light leaked through the floorboards of the stairs. He coughed up more blood, his whole mouth was swiftly filled up with the stuff. The sound was the worst part, the helpless gurgling like a damn newborn baby as he died a slow horrible death, his eyes were all teared up and Connor could tell that he knew he was gonna die.
In Valentine of all places.
And this whole time he was just frozen, frozen like a statue as he watched this man, no, this kid die. He didn't know what to do, does he help him? The hell good would that do. Does he call for help? Stupid idea
These thoughts didn't matter none though, as before he knew it the kid stopped moving at all, a corpse now on those stairs, eyes frozen up, blood leaking from his now open mouth. One hand on his neck and the other still in his coat pocket.
"Kid! Kid! The hells wrong with you, snap out of it!" he felt himself getting shook by Hector on his shoulder, when did he get there? He turned his head and saw Hector was looking just about every angle around them.
"Wha- I mean, uh, yeah lets, lets get the hell outta here" he mumbled out, awfully similar to the dullard voice Hector had put on earlier.
He took one last glance at the corpse of the kid before he and Hector started scampering away like rats, already they could hear shouts in the Saloon, the scream of a girl who discovered the bodies and the yells for the Law.
"I see the bastards!" A man called out from behind them as they jumped the fence, they was just hiding behind.
A bullet tore its way through the wood of the fence, sending a spray of splinters over Connor though fortunately not hitting him, the same couldn't be said for Hector.
"Shit!" he let out through gritted, yellow teeth.
"You alright?!" Connor asked, peeking a look over and seeing two more bodyguard looking men moving towards them with guns drawn.
'How many guards does this damn kid have?' Connor thought.
"Nicked my damn hand, can't shoot my rifle no more." He hissed.
"Swap with me" Connor pretty much commanded, seizing the rifle from him and thrusting the sticky triggered revolver in his good hand.
He popped back up from behind the fence, a bullet flying just past his head as he did so. He didn't have time to think about that now though, he just shot instinctively at the bastard who nearly killed him.
The bullet lodged its way into the man's eye, he crumpled down. His buddy, holding a mean looking shotgun, hunkered down behind an outhouse.
Connor crouched himself back down, using the given reprieve to think of a plan of escape.
"Look, I say we split up, you take Grant up that away, following the rail lines. I'll split north through the gorge and lose them in there, hard terrain for horses to follow. We'll loop back around when we're clear and meet up at horseshoe overlook, should give us time to breathe" he explained to Hector who had his back to the fence, his eyes closed and was muttering various expletives.
"You hear me old man!" he asked after not getting a response.
"Yes, you damn fool I hear you!" he shot back.
"Then you ready to move? Or you gonna collapse from that little nick" Connor asked, eyeing up the path north, he didn't know lick about surviving in the wilds, he would have to lose whatever came after him quick or he was toast.
"Ready" he said bluntly, his eyes focused on where his horse Grant was hitched, few feet away on the back of a small hut on the outskirts of the town.
"GO!" Connor yelled, beginning to run in a mad dash north, taking a few pot shots behind him to make sure that bastard with the shotgun kept his head down. He did just that, stopping him from worrying that he was going to get some shells in the back of his head.
He saw Hector out the corner of his eye mount up quicker than Connor's ever seen the old fart move, and Grant began a mad gallop, a lighting rod for all the attention they had whipped up. You see while Connor was running right away from the town, Hector was going to have to go right past the sheriff's office on his way up the rail track. Hopefully that'll mean those Lawmen will go after the first target they see instead of chasing himself.
It was a blur for him for a while, nothing but his heart pounding like a drum, the burning in his legs and the sounds of Valentine slowly receded into the back view. Through the grasslands, onto a gravely and devilishly dangerous path that spiraled its way round the side of a cliff face he didn't look back no matter what, whenever he thought of slowing down, he kept telling himself "Just a few more steps."
By the time he stopped he was on the gravelled shore of a rushing river, darkness reigned, he didn't know just where the hell he was, but he didn't hear no one after him, they'd have a tough go of it in the dark anyway.
He got in two big gulps of air before he puked.
It came out sudden and stained the hell outta his freshly shined boots, bits of carrot from his last meal giving it an orange colour and the smell made him wanna hurl his guts up again. His vision was swimming now as the adrenaline wore off, he was sure he wasn't gonna be able to feel his legs in the morning after all that running.
He didn't care enough to wash his boots, he just stumbled his way up the hill, nearly dropping the rifle, he had a white-knuckle grip on it for the whole run, ain't have no bullets in it mind, still should be useful if he needed to scare folks.
He managed to find a decent enough spot, little rocky outcropping overlooking the river and the main road. Didn't have much comfort but he needed to rest, he'd just have to handle the crick in his neck come the morning, that is provided he isn't nabbed by the Law in the night.
"Just my damn luck" he muttered, he wasn't long in his criminal career, only bout a month to be exact. And in most of that time he'd just been pickpocketing and conning folks, only one stick up with Hector and that went without a hitch. Now he'd killed two folks, clearly someone important if the guards meant anything.
He went to sleep with the rifle laid across his lap. Thinking on his past and the mistakes he made today, everyone of them seemed so obvious now. He should've searched the kid for a gun first, they should've taken him further away from the saloon, they should have scouted out for guards beforehand.
The kids empty, open eyes were the last thing he remembered thinking about before he descended into his slumber.
The morning was a surprisingly quiet one, no gun in his face, no wolves biting his leg off, just the rustling of bushes, running of the river and the sound of birds tweeting back and forth.
The sick had dried on his boots in the middle of the night, and he knew he was covered in muck and scratches from his frantic escape. He smelled near as bad as Hector and the pomade in his hair, a luxury he afforded himself that wasn't just booze, had wore off leaving it a wild and scraggy mess.
Looking at himself in the river he never looked worse.
His hair still had bits of wood in it from that blasted fence, you could hardly tell he were a blonde from all the bits of mud in it. His eyes were still in one piece though, blue ice chips set in his skull. The rest of his clothes weren't much better, he managed to get most the sick of his boots, but they still stunk, his vest had a hole tore in it bit enough to fit his damn hand through the white shirt beneath was still in one piece.
He dunked his head in the river water, getting at least some of the muck off and brushed his hair back with his hand. It'll dry on the way to horseshoe overlook. If anyone asked him questions, he was a hunter heading back home after an unlucky two days.
He finally got around to counting the take too on the walk over. All in all, they'd each get a grand total of twenty whole dollars. And whatever they could make selling the rings and his watch.
"20 dollars" Connor said to himself, he'd killed a kid for twenty dollars. Sure, it was a decent chunk of change, could live off it for a bit, but were it worth killing him over it? He needed a drink he decided.
It were a long while before he saw anybody, just him and his thoughts and he hated it. All he could think about was the stupid kid, he didn't know what was wrong with him, but it was haunting him, he swore it was only the dried meat he had packed in his satchel that kept him sane, let him chew on something even if it weren't the tastiest.
His alone time wasn't for long though, saw a fella coming up past behind him, from Valentine way. He didn't look familiar.
"Hey there stranger!" He called out friendly enough from his horse, a dapper gray breed, strong and well fed.
"Howdy" Connor responded limply, continuing to look forward.
"You come from Valentine?" he asked, Connor eyed him up and down, least intimidating man he'd ever seen, portly and balding sure he had a gun on his hip, but he doubted he was a crack shot.
"No, just out hunting. Why?" Connor asked, ready at a minute to flip around the rifle on this fella.
"Oh, you must not have heard then, the senator's son got shot and killed in some robbery. They already got one of the fellas that did it though." He felt like he just got shot in the stomach with a cannon ball, the senators son. They had robbed and killed the senator's damn son. He swore he was gonna throw up again, but he held it back, he can't be losing his cool in front of this guy.
"Hm, bad business. You say they caught one of them?" he asked with faux innocence.
"Oh sure, old coots horse died on him, they said he pissed himself when they brought him back to town" he laughed a hearty laugh, slapping the side of his knee. Connor joined in weakly and managed a grin.
"Well appreciate the warning partner, I'll keep an eye out for any strange fellas" he said with a nod, the man happily returned one and pushed his horse forward to a gallop. Leaving Connor in the dust.
He was, to put it mildly, completely fucked.
He had no doubt that old Hector would snitch on him in a heartbeat if it meant some sort of reduced sentence, or anything that would keep him from the noose. He should've just stolen a damn horse, he'd take that on his record rather than the killing of an important politicians' son.
He didn't know what the hell he was supposed to do, he was out of his depth here. He could try running, but he knew for a fact he wouldn't make it to the next town before someone recognized him and he didn't have no one he knew who could shelter him. What the hell was he supposed to do.
It was times like this he missed Ohio, but then again, he'd have to contend with his father, now that was a fate worse than what the Law had in store for him.
"Fuck it" he muttered.
He'd make his way to Horseshoe Overlook, with any luck he'd be the first one there before they got anything out of Hector, they had some clothes stashed away and a little food and water. He'd try slipping on a train heading for Saint Denis and from there… Well, he'd figure it out, all that mattered was getting the hell away from this place.
Thankfully the rest of his agonizing walk was a relatively quiet one, occasionally passed by a farmer taking goods to market, stagecoach or a traveller or two. Other than that, it was quiet, didn't stop him from seeing men with badges under every bush and rock though.
When he did finally make it to Horseshoe Overlook, he didn't see no sign of anybody, no hoof marks in the dirt nor mean faced deputies facing him down. Just the open air and green grass.
He jumped into action, running from tree to tree trying to find the blasted spot they placed the supplies it, finally finding it after a few minutes of running around like a headless chicken.
The clothes weren't as fancy as his old ones, in fact they got them off the stage coast stick up they hit earlier, but that was preferable, right now he just wanted to be another face in the crowd and nothing more.
He was down to his skivvies and pulling up a pair of pants when he heard it, a wagon, maybe two rolling its way forward toward him. Caught literally with his pants down, he opted to stand his ground, ain't no real cover round him anywhere.
"Who goes there!" he yelled pointing his rifle outwards, trying to distract from the ridiculousness of his current appearance. On the front of the first Wagon rode a grim older looking woman with a shotgun already in her hands, as well as a well-dressed middle-aged feller wearing a black fancy looking vest and a sharp hat.
He hopped off the wagon, his hand placed on the gun at his side.
"The names Dutch son, now what the hell are you doing here?"