The Legacy Project: Section 8 - Love Story

“I swear it hurt me more than it hurted her.” New Pony by The Dead Weather

The green strands of grass danced in tight groups across the lowlands from the sweet caress of the westward wind. The breeze swooped through the lines of crops causing the corn to squeak as the stalks rubbed against each other. Small dust clouds, no bigger than a pony, swirled up the bare patches of ground around the homestead until losing their momentum against the cabin.

Red reached up with his right hand to remove his hat and wipe the sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve. He stared at the sky for a moment. Not a single cloud came into sight across the horizon. The sun continued to beat down upon him, burning the last bits of moisture from his crops. The breeze offered marginal relief as he could feel the heat upon his harden face that it carried through the land. There had been no rain for a week. Red could already hear the other farmers that would venture into town with their sad stories of burned out crops and dying cattle.

These were the times Red swelled with pride at his fortune to stake out a piece of land with a stream. It ran out of the mountain range down across his homestead and several others before meeting up with the large river that cut through the rest of the valley. It had been the reason for his success in growing his crops over the last few years; although it brought plenty of ire upon him from other homesteads in the area, especially from Taw Hilbrand just down the stream. Hilbrand’s plot kept expanding across the land fueled by his growing influence in the region substantiated by his general store in town and the ruthless band of farm hands he employed. Red had a few run-ins with Taw while he was in town, but so far had kept magnate off his land.

There was another secret that the stream recently brought down from the mountains, one that would surely bring more attention upon Red than he wished. He had been fetching a pale of water for the garden one day during planting season when a glitter in the bottom caught his eye. Red had figured it to be pure coincidence, a nugget someone had lost in a trek through the mountain side; but when he went back the next day and found several more golden rocks while wading through the stream, Red knew what it meant. He started a collection in a bag he kept in his tool shed next to the house. He didn’t want anyone to find out, so much so that he hadn’t even told Delilah. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his wife and sole companion of several years; Red felt that it would only endanger her to know such a coveted piece of information. If word got out, Red knew Hilbrand, if not many others, would be after his quiet piece of land.

“Red,” Delilah called out from the porch of the cabin waving her arm in the air, “dinner’s ready!”

Red flipped his hat back onto his head. His worries quickly melted away at the sound of her voice. He smiled and waved back at her. Red moseyed back up to the cabin with the thoughts of Delilah’s delicious cooking running through his head. She had gone back inside after he had returned her wave. Red made it to door to see Delilah feverously setting the table. The aroma of chicken and potatoes hit Red’s nose as he stepped into the cabin. He swiftly moved up behind his wife and with one powerful twist of her hips swung her around into his embrace. Her arms instantly wrapped around his neck as he stared into his eyes. He leaned in for a passionate kiss. Her lips were warm and soft. Her hand felt smooth as it swept across the growing bristles of his cheek.

After a moment that felt like ages, she gently pushed him back. “Why Red Travers, I didn’t know my cooking put you in such fervor.”

It still sounded funny to hear his name as such. Red knew his father’s name, but vowed long ago to forget it. The dirty bastard didn’t deserve such credit. He always told Delilah he didn’t know his real name. So when it came time to marry, they decided he should take her surname. Part of him wished he would have thought up a good sounding Christian name, too. He could have left his past behind altogether. If only that old preacher, Van Mussen, had found his inspiration to give Red one before it was too late.

“You know I love everything you do, Delilah Travers. I could never give you enough to repay all that you have given me.” Tears began to well in Red’s eyes, not for the joy of this love, but from the memories of his past life, the good and the bad he had left behind.

“You’re always too sweet.” She reached up and caressed his cheek again. “Let’s eat ‘fore it gets cold.”

The happy couple had just finished dinner when Red heard the noise coming up in the distance. His past was not long gone enough to recognize the sound of a group of riders coming up hard to their cabin.

“What’s that?” Delilah’s innocence had always been the endearing factor in his love for her.

“Trouble.” Red ran back to the bedroom. He adeptly slipped on his gun belt that he always left hanging on a nail beside the bed, instantly checking the chamber of his colt. He holstered the pistol with his right hand as his left picked up the Henry rifle leaning up against the wall. Red moved over to the drawer in the dresser that he kept the cartridges in. He swiftly slid them into the rifle counting in his head so he didn’t try to overload his weapon.

“What’s going on Red?” Delilah rushed to the bedroom doorway.

“’Member how I taught ya to shoot that scatter gun?” Delilah nodded her head with a look of growing concern as the gravity of the question hit her. “Go get it, make sure it’s loaded and stay outta sight!”

Red could hear the group slow as the crossed the field up to the homestead. He heard Delilah find the scattergun and snap the break back together after check the twin barrels.

“Travers! We know you’re in there. Come on out and talk to us!” Red recognized Jack Reed’s voice. He was Hilbrand’s lead hand, although enforcer was probably a more suitable title.

“Travers! We bought Sheriff Robinson along. We’ve got some business to talk about.” Red ventured a peak through the window. Reed was leaning forward both hands on the horn of his saddle. There was Sheriff Robinson on the horse to Reed’s right. Red had heard he was the new Sheriff in the area about two years ago. He had tried hard to avoid any interaction with the man of his past. He had faith the Sheriff wouldn’t know his name, but he was sure that same as that face brought back rebellious glimpses of his past, the Sheriff would remember his. Red was almost ten years removed from that life. He was happy and married now. This trouble, or any for that matter, was the last thing he wanted.

“I ain’t got no business with you Reed!” Red yelled out the window making sure he didn’t show through it giving away his exact position.

“Oh I beg to differ, Travers.” Reed held up a hand to anxious group of four men behind him. “My employer has a generous offer that he wanted me to present to you.”

“That so. Well, where is he so I can hear it?” Red glanced back for a second as Delilah caught his eye as she moved over to the kitchen area near another window.

“Now Travers, you know Mr. Hilbrand is a busy man. That’s why I’m here. Mr. Hilbrand is offering to buy your land for two cents an acre.” Red could hear the chuckles of the other four ‘hands’ in the background.

“And that’s what Taw considers generous?” The itchy, sinking feeling began to fill Red’s chest just as it used to right before a fight. He knew where this was heading.

“Well Travers, it is compared to option number two. That’s the one where we kill both of ya right now and claim it on behalf of Mr. Hilbrand.” Red could hear the horses start to stir as the men that rode atop them got antsy with their trigger fingers.

“And Sheriff Robinson is okay with option number two?” Red wondered for a moment how Sheriff Robinson kept such a good reputation with the general public when it was common knowledge amongst other circles that he was as crooked as any outlaw west of the Mississippi. All the men outside began to openly laugh at his question.

“He’s here to observe and certify either the sale or the claim. The choice is your Travers. Either way, Mr. Hilbrand knows what you got running through that stream of yours and he plans to have it.” Reed motioned with his hand and the other four men began to fan out from behind him. Red could easily see the head of one off to the side of the group.

“Ya’ll want my answer?” Red lifted the rifle up to his shoulder. As soon as the sites came up to his eye the shot was off. He caught the man right at the top ridge of his nose, square between his eyes.

The men weren’t ready for such a response. There was a moment of confusion as their horses jostled at the sudden noise their riders had not prepared them for. That moment was all Red needed to cock the rifle and get another shot off at one of the other hands, hitting him in the shoulder and knocking him off his horse.

Bullets began to rip apart the side of the cabin. Red could see the Sheriff had circled behind the men and even Reed had jumped off his horse to cover behind the water trough in front of the house.

“Option number two then Travers?” Reed fired through the window breaking the mirror that hung on the far wall. Red empty the rifle into the water trough hoping one would find a weak spot in the wood and make it to Reed’s head.

Two bullets whizzed by Red’s ear forcing his body to instantly spurt back down against the wall. He tossed the rifle away and pulled out his revolver. He quickly shot down one of the men that was trying to move to a better position.

The boom of the scattergun unleashed a fierce ringing in his ears. He saw another man fall backwards in an explosion of blood and buck shot. Red felt a sense of pride that was quickly sunk with regret in putting his lovely wife into the horrible position of having to take a man’s life. The thought finally occurred to Red that no matter how this turned out, their peaceful life was over, even if they managed to repel Hilbrand’s, he would come back with more next time. Red was ripped out of his thoughts as through the buzzing and bangs Delilah’s scream cut straight into his ears. He looked in time to see her slump to the floor as a red stain grew out of her stomach across her bleached white apron. Red lost his mind and stood up as he moved towards here. He never heard the shot, but immediately felt the sting in his left shoulder that instantly brought him to his knees.

“Enough, let’s light ‘em up.” Sheriff Robinson’s voice instantly took Red back to that night he and Snake broke Chief out of the jail. For a moment, he was lost even further back in his memory. That voice had haunted him for years before then. He could smell the smoke and taste the tears. Red snapped out of his stupid at the sound made by the bottles of booze busting against the side of the cabin followed by that distinct whoosh of flames engulfing the walls.

The horses whinnied as dead weight was slung over there backs. Their hooves began to thunder off into the distance as the men rode off. Red made it back to his feet using his right arm for balance as the left one hung lifeless. He reached Delilah as the smoke began to fill the cabin. Summing all the courage and power he had left in his body, he picked her up carrying her across the kitchen area. He managed to kick the front door open gasping for breath has he reached the clean air outside. Carefully, he set his wife of three years down on the hard, brown dirt. She began to cough as her hands instinctively covered the wound in her stomach. Red gently moved them, confirming with his eyes what his brain already knew. He’d shot enough men, seen enough people get gut shot, to know the grim truth. Cradling Delilah in his arms, he lifted her head up to his shoulder and held her there. His tears ran down his cheek soaking into her long curly brown hair. He rocked gently as if a mother trying to soothe a crying baby.

Delilah’s head moved as her eyes opened to look at him. They looked so calm and peaceful. “Don’t worry Red, it doesn’t even hurt.”

He began to brush her wet hair away from her face with his hand. “That’s good Delilah. I’m here for you.”

“I know Red.” Her voice still sounded sweet. There was no pain in it, no agony, nothing close to what Red felt staring into her fading brown eyes.

“Delilah, I love you.” He choked it out. He wasn’t sure if she would understand him.

“I know Red.” Her words were followed with a sigh. She blinked slow causing Red’s heart to jump for fear they would not reopen.

“I’m so sorry for..”

She cut him off lifting a finger to his lips. “I know Red. I knew what kind of man I feel in love with.” Her eyes seemed darker, her finger felt cold. “I knew some day this might happen. It’s ok, Red. It doesn’t even h…” Her eyes closed again as she slumped against Red. He clutched her to his body with every last bit of strength in his bruised body.

For the second time in his life, he sat on the ground with his tears in his eyes watching his home burn to the ground, both the doing of one man. It was all gone now. His wife, the home they built together, and the new life he had made for himself. ‘I knew some day this might happen.’ Delilah’s words reverberated in his head because they echoed the dread he had long forced out of his mind. He had tricked himself in to believing that is was possible to run away from a past life. Red ventured another glance at her now lifeless body. The blood had soaked down into his shirt. Red laid the body gently onto the ground. He unbuttoned his shirt and laid it across her chest as if it would keep her warm. He walked over to tool shed and fetched his shovel. Red wiped the tears from his eyes one last time before slamming the shovel into the hard ground. His left arm and shoulder screamed at him, but he didn’t care. Something inside of him drove his desire to bury Delilah right here, where their home and life once was. She belonged here, forever a remembrance of their love.

With each thrust of the shovel into the ground, his sadness dissipated and angry replaced it. Thoughts, ideas, plots and plans raced across his mind. The hatred swelled up in his chest as his teeth gritted fiercely with each stab into the hard ground. He wasn’t just burying his love, but this whole alter ego he had created. Red Travers died with his wife. Big Red had to get to the bottom of this treachery that has continued to ruin his life.

Legacy Project - Section 6: Two of a Kind

Note: I spent a long time writing this section. I got stuck in several parts then had a hard time closing it up. It likely gets weaker as it goes on. It is just under 2,400 words which is likely the most I've written for one section of a story. If this were a book, the last two sections and this one would likely be 1 chapter. I included the ending of the last section edited to fix a big writting blunder. Red said he would read it, so here is this long piece. Enjoy!


Damn it! The curse slipped from his lips as he drew his two pistols. No one would have been able to hear it over the thunder of Red’s revolver. Snake’s ears rang with a furry greater than all the church bells in a nearby valley. Not a soul could remain in bed throughout this sleepy town. Red already had the three men down before Snake was able to get the twin Colts out of their holsters, Snake’s eyes disagreeing with his ears on just how many shots were fired. It wasn’t the marching guards he was worried about. His timing was perfect to gun down the two men that ran out of the front door of the jail with panic stricken looks now forever hardened into their cold, stone faces. Someone from the inside kicked a foot out of the way as he slammed the jail door shut. The three locks being engaged clanged out into the night.

Red stood up to face Snake; he was wearing a slanted smile that spread from ear to ear. That smile would irk Snake at times boiling his blood until it followed up to his ears making them hotter than the flames of hell. Yet, it was the single biggest feature that endeared Red to him. It meant Red was feeling it; his mind was flowing with ideas and his aim was pure. It meant more trouble.


“I said I believe we’re both the same” Evil Man by The Answer

“What if you’d a missed? I was right in your line of fire.” Snake could feel the heat radiating off his eyes. He holstered his twin revolvers with a quick twirl and began quickly rubbing each ear lobe with his index finger and thumb.

“I don’t miss.” Red called out in a strong solid tone before the slanted smile broke out across his face again. “Although, I caught your face as you saw me creeping up. That look almost distracted me.” The last part barely struggled out of his mouth before he broke out into chuckle. “Good thing these ‘coots didn’t know where to look in the shadow. You stick out like a sore thumb.”

Snake’s fingers tugged on each ear then began a vigorous rub of his right ear. Red’s smile only widened at the obvious fury emanating from his partner. “I should know better than to think you’d sit still. You..”

Snake’s hearing shot back to life despite the humming that was just there from the recent gun fire. He picked out the cock of a pistol hammer and the opening of a latch off to his left. In less than a moment, his mind had already processed the information and called his body into action. The sensation always felt strange to him, as if time stood still and he was outside watching his body move like a spectator in a crowd or sitting in a dance hall watching those fools perform on stage. A loud buzz shooting past his left ear in the space his head recently occupied was certainly the first shot. Snake was already horizontal to the ground diving off in Red’s direction. The hollow thud sound caught his right ear as he felt his forearms hit Red’s chest. Red left out a grunt from the contact as the second bullet rang out into the street way off target. The boys landed with a great thump that resonated through Snake’s chest almost as loudly as the gunfire did in his ears. A third shot had called out and made a cloud in the dirt near Snake’s feet as he rolled onto his back.

The boards of the jail window were closed with a mighty bang. Snake had managed to get his guns pulled, but didn’t bother to waste any bullets. Need a target first. Red and Snake swung up with fluid, adroit motions into crouches.

“We need cover before the whole town gets up and starts shooting us in the back.” Snake nodded at Red’s observation as they quickly shuffled over to the area where Red hid in the shadows earlier.

Snake held a single finger up to his lips and motioned for Red to turn toward the street. Red tapped a finger to his nose as moved for a better view of the street. Both instinctively began reloading the chambers of their revolvers, deftly emptying out spent cartridges while focusing their eyes out to their unprotected sides as if their fingers had minds of their own.

Snake leaned over against the wall of jail placing his left ear against the smooth, weathered wood. The sounds of the jail resonated out as if he were standing right in the middle of the room. In a matter of seconds, he could see everything inside the old building. A map exploded out in his mind.

“Psst.” Snake waved Red back over next to him. “Ok, there are three guys still in the jail. I can hear Chief breathing on the far side of the room so his cell must be in the other corner. There is a guy, with what sounds like a Browning shotgun, standing guard on him.”

“Come on, you expect me to believe this hogwash?”

“He is nervous; it keeps clanging against the bars of the cell. I know what the Browning barrels sound like against metal. No shut up a minute.” Snake knew when it was his turn to take lead and put Red in his place. Plan or no plan, he wanted to make sure Red knew which way not to shot so Chief could come out of this alive. “There is another guy leaning up against the front wall, his breath ain’t so heavy. The third guy...” Snake paused trying to stretch back through his mind, something was missing. He could see Red tilt his head at the pause as his brow furrowed into the middle creating a wrinkle in the shape of a V over his nose.

“What is it?”

“I can’t tell where the third guy is. I could just hear him. He was barking orders at the other two, but his voice echoed so. And..” Snake trailed off again as his mind went back over the information.

“And?” Snake could hear the rising concern in Red’s voice. He kept his eyes trained on Snake as he took a turn pressing his ear up against the wall.

“And I recognize the voice, but I don’t know from where. I’ve heard it before.”

Red straightened back up running his palm over his mouth. There was a momentary silence as the two boys stood there looking at each other. Snake could hear all the voices from every person he had ever met by name fly through his head. No name emerged, just the faint smell of smoke and tears in his nostrils. He looked up to see that smile creeping back across Red’s face.

“Who gives a shit who it is. They’ll figure it out when they go to chisel the tombstone.” This was one of those endearing times. Snake could never help but admire Red’s grit. Everything in his brain told him to wait until he had all the info. If this were cards, he would ‘Check’ in a tactic to stall and collect more information. Red, he was an ‘All In’ guy. All guts, no sense. Snake knew that was untrue the moment he thought it. The two were never mutually exclusive. One needed the other to survive.

“Here,” Red reached into his back pocket pulling out two long, red sticks. “I’m tired of carrying these things.” He slapped them into Snake’s outstretched hand. Snake looks them over intently looking for any sort of nicks or damage to the sticks before running his fingers over the fuses.

“They still look good.” Snake handed one stick back to Red. “Ok, the man by the front door is on this side. So find a slot in the boards to wedge it into, light it and run like hell back to this other corner. I’ll light this one to blow the cell when I see you turn the corner.” Snake reached into his right pocket pulling out a match and handing it to Red. “We need to take cover around the corner then wait to storm in and get Chief.”

“I hate this stuff. Why couldn’t we just kick in the door again?” Red looked nervous for the first time in many years that Snake could remember.

“Cause I told you, we can’t kick in now reinforced jail door. We gotta make our own.”

Red turned around and scooted up to the front of the jail. Snake watched for a second to make sure Red got into position. He swiftly moved to the opposite corner of the jail where his ear had mapped out in his mind the position of the cell holding Chief. Snake placed his ear against the wall again to double check his positioning. He wanted to make sure he caught the area where the cell bars came into the wall. The blast needed to create a hole to get Chief out and blow the guard off of him. Red’s blast just needs to be a distraction, but if it takes out the first guard, Snake would be pleased with that.

He felt confident that Chief would protect himself. He has to know it is us shooting out here. But the thought crosses Snake’s mind again, what if the blast hurts or even kills Chief. All of a sudden his mind, usually so sure of everything it is doing, swirls around the idea of not blowing the wall. Fear grips the corners of brain as Snake imagines his regret in gunning down all these guards just to blow up his friend in the end. Surely he knows we would plan to blow out the walls made of wood. Snake did his best to reassure his conscience that Chief was smart enough to know what Red and he would do. What is Red doing?

Snake was already off guard. Red came sprinting around the corner of the jail. He didn’t prepare himself as he was lost in thought. Quickly, Snake fumbles for his match. On the third strike, the match ignites just as Red reaches Snake’s side. Snake reaches out and lights the fuse.

BOOM!

The front stick erupts into the night. Snake notices the flash reflect off the bank wall. Broken boards begin to clang against roofs and clatter into the street. Snake and Red had reached relative safety around the far corner of the jail. They can start to hear voices out in the streets. Pounding foot steps as villagers come running.

BOOM!

The shorter fuse on Snake’s stick quickly reached the stick. Snake can hear the bending of iron inside the jail. Red beats him to the step, his gun drawn, running to the new hole in the side of the wooden wall. He gets a shot off at the close guard before Snake makes it there. Snake risks a fast glance at Chief to ensure he is alive before scanning for threats in the jail. Both Red and he roll back around the still standing portions of the wall before a bullet rings through the large hole. Snake can see the front guard is down. It appears he took the bulk of the first blast, a piece of wood sticking out through his leg.

“I’m mighty impressed by you boys.” The voice calls out from behind a desk sitting off to the side of the rather open room that was the jail. The phrase further instilled the notion with Snake that he should know who this is. But it was the major jaw drop on Red’s face that further frustrated Snake’s brain at the inability to place the voice. “I knew you’d come, but still you show a lot a guts doing what you dun tonight.”

Snake looked over at Red again. His mouth now closed and a large tear ran down his left cheek as he leaned up against the outside wall of the jail. Red’s hands clutched his revolver tight against his chest.

“Just give us our friend and we’ll be done.” It was the best Snake could think up. He supposed Red was paralyzed out of fear from the connection Snake was missing.

“Sorry boys, I can’t let that happen.” The voice boomed back out from the desk.

Snake could hear the town folks getting closer to the jail. He fired off a shot square into the desk as he peaked around at Chief. He was crouched down against the cell wall keeping cover from the man behind the desk. Snake reached around the wall and tossed Chief one of his guns. Chief caught it with two hands and immediately checked the chamber. Lesson #1, Snake heard Mr. Tweed resonate through his memories; always make sure your gun is loaded.

“Sheriff Robinson,” Snake could hear a voice call out from the streets. “Sheriff! Are you okay?” Just over the top of the desk, Snake noticed the wide brim hat turn back towards the large hole in the front of the jail.

“Now!” Snake shouted out seizing his opportunity. He squeezed the trigger of his revolver with his right index finger as his left palm slammed the hammer back into a cocked position. The bullets landed square in the middle of the wood surrounding the left drawer. Snake could see the hat quickly turn back and dip below the plane of the desk top. Chief was immediately on the move. He scuttled across the gap to the outlet Snake had created. Red fired a round into the desk as Snake got off his third shot. One more a piece and Chief was free, ducking around the outside wall of the shattered jail.

“Glad you finally come. I begin to worry.” Chief was smiling, he connection to the boys never more evident. “I say we run before luck run out.” Snake nodded noting to himself the Chief had never been wiser.

“No!” Red’s voice cut through the night air like a machete. Snake had almost forgotten he was over there. “We need to finish this.”

“Well I agree with the Chief, we need to get while we can.”

“No!” Red’s face began to match his name. The sharpness was back in his eyes. He looked ready to cast the fires of Hell on any man in his way. “We gotta get the Sheriff!”

“What’s going on, Red? I know I should know him and you obviously do. What am I missing?”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Red had finished reloading his spent cartridges.

A cascade of bullets sounded out across the jail. Splinters flew off the broken wood forever fractured from the dynamite. Snake didn’t need to look to know at least four towns people had joined the Sheriff. In between shots, he estimated he could hear at least six more shouting as they ran towards the jail.

“I think our time is up. We must go.” Chief fired two shots back through the jail before turning to run off into the dark.

“C’mon Red. Know when to fold ‘em!”

The color quickly drained from Red’s face. He tapped his nose as the bullets continued to break off debris and whiz past their heads. Red held up his fingers and counted down from three. Snake and he turned in unison to firing a volley of shots back at the amassing posse covering the front of the jail. After the well placed shots had sent all the man diving for cover, they spun on their heels and flew out into the darkness with bullets marking their path on the ground until the jail was out of sight.

Smoking Guns pt 2

“You see boys luck is on my side." Red started in sounding more harden that he had in his youth. "I don’t know what game Snake has been dealing ya,” He shot Snake a look, one Snake had come to miss these 10 years. He knew Red had a plan for him to play along with. “But since it looks like you’ve not fared so well, I’m gonna give ya’ll the chance to win this gold star.” Red slide the badge to the middle of the table as he pulled the cards out of the case and began to shuffle in a mad flurry. He obviously hasn’t forgotten how, Snake thought almost appalled at how quickly Red flipped out the lucky deck.

“5 card draw and I don’t believe in wilds. Now pony up ‘fore I kick you out that door!” Red didn't sound hostile but his voiced commanded attention. The drunks at the bar pretended not to watch the action. The wide eyed greenhorns couldn’t help but throw their money in, more scared than opportunistic. The coins clanged as they landed together, some shining brightly some faded against the clean felt.

“As I'm sure you heard, these are my lucky cards. And for the first time in a long time I’m feelin’ it.” Red's eyes were almost ablaze with a fire from deep inside as he talked himself up. Snake became a little nervous watching those eyes, seeing Red's hands deal out those cards in a fluid motion. He knew that look and it usually meant more trouble for him that Red.

Everyone stayed in adding more coins to the pot for the draw; no one was fool enough to fold out of this hand. The idiot at the end of the table can’t stop shaking as he took his three cards. This one isn't even worth the time, pair if that. The eye’s of the greenhorn in the middle darted around all the other players as It looked at two new cards. Two pair, Snake thought to himself knowing his read was accurate. The one across from Red tries to quickly hide the fact that the corner of its mouth creased as it shuffled in the one new card. A little too confident, what does he think he can prove? Flush at best but probably just a straight. Snake took in his two fresh cards. He got exactly what he needed to give himself a full house. He felt good, confident inside until the thought crossed his mind for a split second about what might happen if he won this hand. “I'm good," Snake said staying as calm as always but wanting to put out notion that he knew he had them all beat.

All except Red. He didn't take any new cards. This odd occurrence caused Snake to raise an eyebrow in his direction. What is he trying to prove here?

“I told ya'll these were my lucky cards,” Red chided. A smirk hit his face for the first time since he walked in as he laid down his four queens. “Lady luck has brought me her daughters!”

The greenhorn at the end of the table dropped his cards and was out the door before the chair hit the floor. Running for home crying all the way; no doubt to tell the family of its misfortunes and swear off the Saloon. The idiot in the middle couldn’t keep its jaw from dropping to the table in amazement. The one across the table from Red slowly put down its cards. I don’t like that look.

“I don’t think them cards is lucky, I think you is a cheat!” the fool said with a new found brashness that comes with losing all your money to some cocky stranger. The smirk wiped from Red’s face but he didn’t say anything, didn't even look at the man trying to give him the stare down across the table. He just leaned over to start raking in the mound of gold.

There was a loud screech of a chair being kicked back, then the loud clap of gunfire. The fool fell to the floor with a thud, dead from the gunshot to the temple before the pistol even got all the way out of its hostler. Snake calmly slid his smoking Peacemaker back into its resting place on his right hip. He hadn't even gotten out of his chair to draw. Red never flinched stacking his money as he watched the action.

“Ha! I knew it!” Red shouted out almost as a chuckle. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“It was a matter of time,” Snake returned coldly. “He’d been playing his cards the whole time like he was looking for a fight. You were the only unexpected thing going on around here!” A smile finally crossed his face; that extra part of him flooding back into his veins that had been missing for awhile now. Red was back and still trying to test him. “You know," Snake turned to Red, "I hate it when guys don’t take new cards.”

“What can I say? Luck doesn’t need new cards, she works her magic the first time. Besides, I had to rile one of those greenhorns enough to see if you still had it.” Red was now mocking Snake’s dramatic draw on the dead man.

“Yeah I should have just let him shoot ya first.” Snake was still smiling, he couldn’t stop. He knew he would've had to gun down the man even without Red's interference; he never let killing bother him. At least not when it was necessary.

Turning their heads they realized the third fool was still sitting at their table, mouth wide open as he gaped in terror. “Get on home boy!” Red reached out as if to slap it across the face but the fool was smart enough to run at the first word. Some folks around the Saloon were working together to move the dead body out back and out of the way. Another man was trying to soak up the blood pool off the floor. If the place had stopped for the ruckus, nobody could tell it now.

“The cards felt crisp.” Red was wiping them off and putting them neatly back into the silver case. “Had you not been playing them much?”

“Never got them out, not since that day you gave them to me.” The sadness crept into Snake’s face as the memory flooded back, but just for an instant.

“Really?!? Don't you know these here cards are lucky?” Red couldn't understand how a card player could leave such a thing in his pocket.

“You know damn well I don’t believe in luck nor do I need it. It wasn’t luck that gave me that big pile of money you just took from me or that told me when that greenhorn was gonna draw!” Snake always got a little offended at the notion that anyone thought he needed luck or that it was on his side during a card game. “I read people damnit! That’s what a real card player does!”

“Settle down. I haven’t had to listen to your diatribes for 10 years and I don’t right think I wanna start just yet. Besides we’ve got some business to discuss.” Red settled back into his chair now that he and Snake were alone at the table.

“Is that right?” Snake shot back with a sarcastic undertone. “Like what the hell you are gonna do now that you shot Sheriff Robinson!”

“There are a few things most people don’t know about their local sheriff.” Red replied coldly.

“Yeah like that he is dead. I am sure the Marshall is gonna wanna learn more about that.” Snake couldn’t help himself. Sure they had been wild in the past but they never crossed that line. In fact he had sorta made his peace with the law in these parts after Red decided to hang it up. I kinda liked the Sheriff, he left me alone to soak all these poor townsfolk at the poker tables.

Quit worrying! What I know would change a lot of minds in these parts, even the Marshall’s. But if he wants to get in the way of this so be it. Cause partner,” Red leaned in close to keep any stranglers from listening in, “we’ve got gold to go collect.”

What the hells he know bout gold? Snake couldn’t help but let his mind wander at the prospect. “What ya know?”

“I know where there is a heap of it that the Sheriff had been running protection on. And we are gonna go take it!” That look was back in Red's eyes, the master plan running in his mind.

“I'll need time to round up the gang.” Snake was already trying to remember who would be left at the hangout and who he would have to hunt down.

“I figured as much that’s why I am gonna come with ya. So let’s get moving and I’ll fill ya in on the way. Still the same place?” Red’s smile could have been seen clear across the territory.

“Best spot this side of Kansas City!” Snake replied with new found enthusiasm. This is gonna be like old times, if we don’t get killed first!

Big Red's Smoking Guns pt. 1 and 2

Note: I've got a feeling Snake is going to kick my butt with this one. Not a big deal, maybe he can weave a few of my ideas in his grand tale of the old west.

Snake turned his ear up to the gunfire coming from outside the dingy saloon – the kind of place where a man's boots always stick to the floor no matter how hard the barkeep and waitress scrubbed each night after closing to remove the alcohol and chew stains soaked in the oak floor boards – before dealing out the cards. He didn't think much of the commotion. It was Coleta; there was always some sort of trouble on the two dusty streets lined with honkytonks, saloons and four churches. Besides, he had more money to win from the four chumps fool enough to sit at his table an hour before.
A few minutes later, Snake ordered another shot of whiskey while staring at the pair of ladies in his hand and deciding if he could bluff his way out. Hell yeah, these guys are idiots.
The Saloon’s doors split then, smacking the walls by being thrust all the way open. A dark figure, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and a pair six-shooters still smoking in the holsters at his hips, appeared in the doorway before walking to the table.
Snake knew him. Hell, he more than knew him. In their youth, the two had run a lot of trouble together – a lot of fun. His name was Big Red. Ten years before, the wild man had put his guns away and handed his pack of lucky cards to Snake saying, "I think I'll try my hand at farming that untamed land." Snake thought it was a fool idea, but didn't try to deter him. When an idea caught in Big Red's mind, there was no use fighting him about it.
Snake stared at Big Red as he barked an order for some red whiskey. As he drew closer, Snake could see the blood dripping from Red's finger tips and the way his chest heaved in and out in exaggerated fashion. He didn't have to ask what was going on. Deep inside, Snake knew this day would come. Red was back in the gang.
"You got my cards," he said.
"Sure," Snake said. Pulling the pack he never played, heck never took out of the case, from the pocket inside his vest and placing it on the table.
"Good," he said spitting on the floor and then pushing one of the idiots out of its chair (the idiot didn't deserve the pronoun of he).
Sitting down, Red slammed his paw down on the table and lifted it. Shining on the green felt was a familiar gold star with what looked like a bite mark at the tip of one point. Snake knew the chest that star usually hung on, which forced him to look back outside toward the dusty streets bathed in sun.
"Now this is how it's going to be." Red in a gruff voice sounded.
Snake and even the idiots leaned forward. Part of Snake was scared, but he dismissed it. When Big Red came into the saloon with eyes glaring in that way, you had to listen. There was adventure (and likely trouble) in his ideas. Once one took hold of him, he didn’t let it go. Outside of that farming bit, Snake had loved getting caught up in Red's plots.
This is going to be fun, Snake thought. One hell of a lot of fun.

* * *

Big Red came to the West Jordan Home for Destitute Boys in the summer of Snake’s twelfth year. West Jordan was a square building with one classroom on the main floor with a kitchen just off it and the bedroom for the home master, the Good Man of the Cloth, Frederick Van Mussen.
A wood ladder led to the loft above where two rows of cots ran, adding up to eight, lined the length of each side of room under the eaves. There were only four boy residents before Red.
That day the Good Man of the Cloth was 10 minutes into a 45-minute droning lecture about God or Lambs or something. Snake’s eyelids were sagging, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when the big pine door burst open in the back. Van Mussen looked up in surprise and all the boys turned in the seat of their desks.
The Sheriff’s star shined off the chest of Andrew Jones as he strode in clasping a boy by the collar beside him.
“Got another one for ya, Van Mussen.”
“Like Hell,” The boy tried to wriggle away.
The Sheriff slapped the boy across the face. The boy fell to the floor and the Sheriff gave him a swift kick in the gut.
“Hit me all you want, but I ain’t going to stay.”
Snake had never seen anyone their age stand up to the Sheriff. He thought the Sheriff might just shoot him dead.
“You’ll stay, even if I have to cuff you to the wall.”
“Pah,” The boy spat at the Sheriff’s boots.
“Sheriff, I’ll handle him from here,” Van Mussen said.
“Alright,” The Sheriff was out the door as the boy scrambled to feet. He turned for the door.
“What’s the hurry, son.” Van Mussen said. “There’s a roof here tonight and it’s mighty hot out in the sun.”
“I ain’t scared of the sun.”
“I am sure you’re not, but I bet you’re hungry.”
“So.”
“So, we’ll be feasting tonight. Probably tomorrow night as well, maybe you won’t stay, but you could leave with a full stomach.”
The boy stopped in the door. He was ungodly thin and his ears pricked up at the prospect of food.
“Maybe a decent bed doesn’t sound too bad either.” Van Mussen said. The man could ramble on the most boring lectures, but he had a knack for making West Jordan sound like one of those fancy hotels in the big cities out east.
“Maybe one night,” The boy said.
“Wonderful,” sometimes Van Mussen’s words came out in a song instead of regular speak. It drove Snake crazy. “Now, what shall we call thee?”
“Pa called me Red,” he said.
“No, that won’t do. What’s you’re name in the eyes of God.”
“Big Red.” He looked back toward the door.
“No, don’t you have a Christian name boy,” Van Mussen seemed on the pit of despair.
“I told you, Red,” His face was flushed as bright as an apple.
“I will pray on it. The Lord shall tell me your name.”
“I bet he tells you, Red.”
Van Mussen ignored this last exchange.
“Let’s have one of the other boys show you to the loft. Now let’s see the hands. Who’ll show our new student upstairs?”
All four hands shot up. A chance to get out of the lecture and to pal up with this new bold boy couldn’t be passed up.
“Jericho,” He pointed to Snake, who cringed in his seat. No one but Van Mussen called him by that name. Every boy in the place had a name straight out of the bible, even if it wasn’t his real name. ‘
Snake slid out of his chair and motioned for Red to follow him. Red stood there a moment, before finally relenting.
Two boys slept on each side of the loft. Snake slept in the second cot from the ladder on the right side. Red picked the one on the far end on the right. Away from everyone, and collapsed in heap on the cot facing away from Snake.
“Look, it ain’t that bad here.”
“It ain’t that good.”
They didn’t speak and Snake shifted his weight from one foot to another knowing that Van Mussen would call up soon wanting them back down.
“So your Pa run off on you or something?” Snake asked.
Red turned his head and eyed Snake up and down. Snake was pretty sure the boy was deciding if he should charge him. Snake backed up a bit, giving himself more reaction time just in case.
“Nah, they hung’em.” Red turned his face back toward the back wall.
“Why’d they do that?”
“Cause they could.”
Snake came to learn that that was Red’s theory on the world. People did things if they could. In the coming months, Snake found that boys their age could do a hell of a lot of things, for no other reason, than they could. Snake accepted the circumstances when Red thrust the sheriff’s star on his poker table years later because he knew exactly why Red had done it. Cause he could.
Staring at Red’s back there in the loft, noticing the slump of his shoulders and the sag of body, Snake couldn’t help but like him. He wasn’t just another stupid kid out causing trouble. He was fighting a battle that at 12 years old, he was losing.
That was when Red reached into his trouser’s pockets and laid the old deck of cards on his cot. Snake’s eyes widened.
“You better keep those hid or Van Mussen will take them.”
“If he touches them, I slit his throat with a spoon.”
“Shush, he’ll hear you.”
“Shush yourself. These are my cards.”
“What’s so special about them?”
“They’re lucky. They never lose.”
Snake smiled.
“We’ll see about that.”
That made Red turn around and grin.

Smoking Guns pt 1

Note: This started back with Big Red's Hodge Podge post. He wrote a little beginning to a story we decided to continue on together. This is that first part after I tweaked it alittle. Later I will post the next section as will Red.

Snake turned his ear up to the gunfire coming from outside the dingy saloon – the kind of place where a man's boots always stick to the floor no matter how hard the barkeep and waitress scrubbed each night after closing to remove the alcohol and chew stains soaked into the oak floor boards – before dealing out the cards for the next hand. He didn't think much of the commotion though. It was Coleta; there was always some sort of trouble on the two dusty streets lined with honkytonks, saloons and four churches. Besides, he had more money to win from the four greenhorns fool enough to sit at his table an hour before.

As the bets went around, Snake ordered another shot of whiskey while staring at the pair of ladies in his hand deciding if he could bluff his way out. Pfft, these guys are idiots. "I raise," he said as they cowered back into their seats.

Just then the Saloon’s doors split, smacking the walls with a thunderous clap as they were thrust all the way open. A dark figure, wearing a dirty brown wide-brimmed hat and a Colt Single Action Army revolver still smoking in the holster at his hip, appeared in the doorway. For a moment the piano player stopped, the tramps quit dancing; the old drunks at the bar couldn't help but stare. After a quick survey of the landscape, he let the doors snap back into place and headed to Snake's table. No one seemed to recognize him but figured if he was going to cause trouble he would have already started.

Snake knew who he was though. In fact, he more than knew him. In their youth, the two had run a lot of trouble together – a lot of fun. His name was Big Red, at least that is what Snake always called him by. Trouble makers like them never used their Christian names out here. Ten years before, the wild man had put his guns away and handed his pack of lucky cards to Snake saying, "I think I'll try my hand at farming that untamed land." Snake knew it was a fool idea, but didn't try to deter him. When an idea caught in Red's mind, there was no use fighting him about it.

Snake stared at Big Red as he barked an order for a whiskey bottle at a passing waitress. As he drew closer, Snake could see the blood dripping from Red's finger tips and the way his chest heaved in and out in exaggerated fashion. He didn't have to ask what was going on. Deep inside, Snake knew this day would come. He knew Red couldn't leave the life, just as he never did.

"You got my lucky cards," he said not asked.

"Sure," Snake said. Pulling the pack he never played, never even took out of the case, from the pocket inside his vest and placed it on the table.

"Good," he said spitting on the floor and then pushing the idiot next to Snake out of its chair (the idiot didn't deserve the pronoun of he). It scrambled off to the far side of the Saloon not wanting any trouble. Not such an idiot after all.

Sitting down, Red slammed his large calloused paw down on the table with a startling bang and slowly lifted it. Shining on the green felt was a familiar gold star with what looked like a bite mark at the tip of one point. Snake knew the chest that star usually hung on, which forced him to look back outside toward the dusty streets bathed in sun.

"Now this is how it's going to be." Red in a gruff voice sounded.

Snake and even the idiots leaned forward. Part of Snake was scared, but he dismissed it. When Big Red came into the Saloon with eyes glaring in that way, you had to listen. There was adventure (and likely trouble) in his ideas. Once one took hold of him, he didn’t let it go. Outside of that farming bit, Snake had loved getting caught up in Red's plots. The two had always worked well together.

This is going to be fun, Snake thought. One hell of a lot of fun.