I've been waiting for so long to write this story again. God, I've really missed it. Simply describing Charlotte… there's a lot of thought put into how she looks, so we'll see if anyone picks up on the details.
There's a poll for which project I should start after this, btw, so make sure you go and vote on that.
This is a very long chapter btw, just because I got carried away with my writing. So, feast your eyes!
Fairvale Shanty, Grizzlies East, AM
18th August, 1910
Lana had a habit of biting her lip when sketching. She wasn't particularly good at it – especially with Enzo squirming all the time. He was six, which meant he was always running back and forth, usually carrying a stick. But, when he'd tired himself out and slept until the late morning, Lana found she had a prime time for sketching her favourite subject.
"…Well, forgive me if I don't see what's so special about Calgary!" Near never raised his voice – that was why everyone in camp paid attention when he did.
"We can't stay in this country, old man!" Rune replied from inside his tent. "Down south is Mexico, full of folk like us- you think the Pinkertons won't follow us down there when a couple of banditos sell us out to save their own necks?"
"So, what, we're going to head way back up North?"
"To save this family, yes!"
"It's pointless to talk wit'chu, Rune…" Near grunted and emerged from the tent with his make-shift cane. Rune appeared at the flap of the tent, watching the old man leave.
"I am tired of listening to the same old complaints- you'll always have a goddamn problem with anything we do!"
"Anything you do, maybe… if I was ten years younger, Rune…"
"Well, you ain't, are you?"
Near didn't respond as he made his way to the logs by the fire. Lana glanced to Enzo, who was now awake – she could tell because his shoulders were no longer rising and falling. "Mijo, I know you're awake." Enzo didn't move. Lana pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, trying to decide whether to leave him and let him pretend, or to wake him up. Before she could act, however, a pair of hands stretched out from the striped pink sleeves and Luca picked up Enzo from the floor, turning him over and over. Enzo yelped and flailed his arms as Luca carried him through camp, hanging him over a shoulder.
"Are you up, huh?" Luca asked. "You up?"
"I'm up," Enzo giggled.
"You're not up…" Luca slung Enzo further over his shoulder, so that he was fully upside down. "You look down to me."
Lana groaned once again at Luca's poor, poor jokes. "Luca? Don't encourage this- he needs to get up and help Abuela with the chores…"
"This isn't encouragement, I'm punishing him…" Luca said innocently as he pulled Enzo back up, tickling his neck as he spoke to Lana, ignoring Enzo's spasming in his arm.
"Luca." Lana had found she had developed the power to halt all of Luca's misbehaviour simply by saying his name in a certain way. It was the same power Abuela had with everyone else in the camp – she'd say their name in a stern, mother's tone and they'd immediately yield.
Luca cleared his throat and slowly put Enzo back onto the floor. "Listen to your mamma, Enzo."
Lana stood up and looked around the camp to see Young Charlotte there. She was sixteen, her sunflower-blonde hair was worn in a French braid down her back. She was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a loose-collared white shirtwaist. Her sleeves were rolled up as she watched Elvira Colt slowly hold a coin in one hand and, by simply blowing into her hand, it was gone. Charlotte's blue eyes narrowed on the coin as she talked with Ellie about her method.
"Charlotte?" Lana called over to her. Charlotte turned to see them and then picked up her flat cap and walked over. She picked up the ragged patch-work flat cap and fitted it on her head as she walked over. "Can you look after Enzo for a moment?"
"Where'd you get that hat?" Luca asked, puzzled.
"Rune gave it me," Charlotte shrugged.
"I need to talk to Luca for a moment…"
"Sure…" Charlotte nodded. "C'mon, Enzo, let's go see Abuela."
"You sure I can't come?" Luca asked as he watched Enzo walk in-hand with Charlotte.
"Luca, we need to talk."
"About…?"
"About what happens when…" Lana licked her lips and took Luca by the hand, pulling him closer to their tent. "Rune and Near are at each other's throats."
"This isn't news…" Luca frowned. Lana hit him on the arm.
"But lately, they've been…" The words escaped her. "Listen, I ain't raising my son- our son in this. We need to think about finding him a home where he can… where can sleep in a bed and eat at a table. Take a wash in a bath, you know?"
"Lana, I'm- we're outlaws. I got 'bout six-thousand dollars on my head," Luca stated. "Sellin' snake oil and robbing folk is all I've ever done well." He placed a hand on the shoulder. "We stick with Rune's plan. Canada."
Lana sighed. Rune had saved them all from far worse. Hell, it was only because of Rune that she had met Luca and had Enzo. He was part of their little community. And, well, it was easy to criticize, but she knew they had a few thousand dollars saved up now. Clearly he was doing something right.
"Canada," Lana agreed.
Van Horn was a dirty town. No lawmen dared step foot there – mainly because the townsfolk were likely to shoot anyone they didn't like. On the third floor of the tallest building, a man was hanging out of the window. Clutching onto the hand that held his tie, Frank Colter wailed as a fist cracked into his cheek for a third time that minute.
"Three dollars?" Aiden growled, pulling the man's face close to his own. "What am I supposed to do with three goddamn dollars?"
"S'all I got, mister!"
"It ain't enough!" Aiden punched him again and pushed Frank further out of the window, glancing down at the ground below them. "Maybe I should just… let you go? If you ain't got no more money, what good are you?"
"I can pay you…"
"Pay us now!"
"Please, mister… just a bit of time, that's all I'm askin', okay?"
"Not okay. I ain't here to listen to your excuses- I'm here for your money!"
"I swear, I've got money, just not on me!"
"Where?"
"It's… it's in the shop, okay? On the pier!"
Aiden looked over to the pier opposite the lighthouse and narrowed his eyes. "Where in the shop?"
"In the register! 'Bout eighty dollars or so!"
Aiden nodded. "Okay." He examined the terrified man. Every part Aiden's being wanted the man to suffer. He wanted to bash the man's face in. He was ready to let him fall to his death when he heard Sam's voice.
"Aiden?"
He turned to see men coming up the stairs. Sam pulled the Litchfield repeater from his back and cocked the lever, ready to fire as the men pointed their revolvers. Aiden reached to his off-hand holster and pulled on the black grip of his silver Packenbush.
"You let ol' Frank go now, okay?" One of the men said. "Else we gon' cut ya in half."
"Is that so?" Aiden asked, his hazel eyes flitting between each of the men.
"Turn around and walk away, fellas," Sam said.
"Come on, friend…" The apparent leader of the men said slowly, his gun trained on Aiden. "You ain't going to die for a couple of dollars, are ya?"
"Someone is," Aiden replied, holding the revolver high. "You working for Josie?"
"That's right, sir."
"You tell her she pays us what she owes, or we're coming for her too."
The man remained at the edge of the stairs, sweat sizzling against his forehead as his moustache twitched. "You don't go threatenin', Josie, now, sir."
Aiden's jaw stiffened. This man was willing to kill and die for Josie Dawson. The poor, lovesick fool. "Put your gun down and back out, else I'll kill Frank and the rest of you as well."
Sam's brown eyes glanced to Aiden for a moment before looking back to the strangers. The man in front slowly clicked the hammer of his revolver back into place before pulling his gun up and slowly walking back down the stairs. Aiden pulled Frank back in with his right hand, and with his left, kept the gun to he crown of his head.
"What're we doin', Aiden?" Sam murmured.
"We ain't leaving without that money…" Aiden muttered in response as he walked Frank down the stairs, his eyes on the townsfolk as they kept a couple of metres between each other, all of them still with their guns drawn.
"They can shoot us outside."
"Then don't miss," Aiden replied, walking Frank down to the first floor. They all paused as Aiden watched them leave the building. He paused, glancing to the windows. "Frank?" Aiden asked.
"Sir?"
"Do me a favour, will ya…" Aiden felt around in his pocket and produced his father's old pocket watch, slapping it onto Frank's chest. "Tell me what time it is."
"Yes-yessir," Frank's fingers fumbled the fob watch until it sprang open. "Two… two-twenty-two, sir."
"Thank you, Frank." Aiden took the watch back. "Sam, wait 'til the train before you fire…"
"Sharks don't have ears…" Alice scoffed at Anna while puffing on a cigarette.
"Of course they do!" Anna insisted. "That's like saying they don't have noses or… eyes."
"Okay, sharks definitely don't have noses… Nostrils, yes, but noses?"
"The nostrils make it a nose!"
Alice frowned as she turned over the thought in her head. Suddenly, she heard distant gunshots. She turned to look down from the hills into Van Horn and see a few groups of men waiting outside the large building, revolvers readied. "Jesus, sour-face…" She murmured before pointing a finger at Anna, "this discussion ain't over!" She picked up the scoped bolt-action rifle and lay flat on her front, aiming down the scope. She chambered a round and began to fire with Anna on the men outside. She watched through her scope as Aiden and Sam ran from the building, heading across the town and jumping the railroads.
"Hell're they doing?" Anna frowned as he watched them head to the pier.
"I gave up askin' a long time ago…"
"Shit…" Anna muttered as she straightened up and began to unhitch her horse from the tree.
"Where're you goin'?"
"Making sure they get out." Anna clambered onto her horse and kicked off, sending her stallion, Alexi, galloping north down the hill.
The train whistled as it thundered through the town. Bullets clanged and pinged along it as Aiden and Sam hopped onto the back of it, riding it through the town. Aiden holstered his Packenbush and drew his Cattleman, clicking back the hammer as he began to catch his breath. The pier was close…
Aiden and Sam jumped off the train carriage and stumbled forwards, ducking into the wooden building and tumbling along the floor as bullets continued to rain from the other side of town.
Sam rose to the register and began to press the different buttons in hope of finding the right one. Finally, there was a harsh chime and the till opened. Sam removed his hat and began to stuff the dollar bills and coins into it.
"How much we get?" Aiden called as the train departed Van Horn.
"Twenty-two! Still countin'…"
There was a gunshot and Sam cried out. He fell to the floor, clutching his face, which was wet with blood. Aiden's heart leapt up into his throat as he crawled across the floor to grab Sam. He kept him down on the ground, looking to see the broken window the bullet had come through.
"You're alright, Washington, don't you worry…" Aiden kept his voice level as he moved Sam's hands from his face.
"Get the money," Sam hissed as his hand was wrenched from his face. Aiden reached up onto the shelves to grab a bottle of something and poured it over the gunwound, keeping Sam down with his knee. Sam yelled as what he realized was shine poured over his face. Aiden grabbed his face and examined the wound.
"Just a scratch, Sam, you're gonna be okay."
"You think you can rob from us?" A voice shouted from outside. "You think you can steal from us? You two boys are dead!"
"Aiden," Sam said through gritted teeth, "kill that bastard first."
"Kill him yourself, I ain't coddlin' ya." Aiden grabbed Sam's Litchfield and began to load it with bullets from Sam's bandolier.
"Come out else we're gon-" the man was cut off by gunshots and yells. Horrible squelching and thuds before silence fell. Aiden waited, repeater trained on the window. Suddenly, the man he recognized as Frank Colter was thrown through the window. Aiden made out the silhouette of Anna, dodging the swipe of a knife and kicking her opponent to the floor. She raised her sawn-off shotgun and pulled the trigger, blowing the man's head apart.
"You two still alive in there?" Anna called.
"Sam's hit," Aiden shouted.
"He dead?" Anna opened the door to look inside.
"Not yet…" Sam groaned.
Anna saw the scar on his face and took a step back. "God almighty…"
"Don't," Aiden snapped as he helped Sam to his feet. "Anna, put him on your horse, I'll grab the cash!"
Anna nodded and pulled Sam's blood-stained hand around her neck, pulling all his weight onto her as she carried him towards her Turkoman, who began to rear at the distant gunshots. "Aiden, there's more of 'em!"
"Alice and me can take care of 'em, you just get Lil' Sam outta here!"
Anna climbed onto her horse and lifted Sam up with her other hand, pulling on the reins to keep her stallion still. "Okay, Alexi, let's get outta here…" She turned around and galloped away as Alice continued firing down on the incoming townsfolk.
"Every goddamn time…" Aiden muttered, scraping the coins off the floor and stuffing them in his pockets, "we can't go anywhere…."
He pulled the last fistful of dollars into his pockets before standing up and taking the rifle. He was about to leave when he saw Sam's black hat on the floor. He picked it up and peered outside. Finding no-one still alive, he walked down the pier. He saw the familiar shimmering coat of Ryder as Alice approached on Birdie.
"Good shootin'," Aiden said to her.
Alice feigned a gasp of surprise. "Was that a compliment, sour-face?"
"Shut up…"
"Daddy is gon' be so happy we're gettin' along now!"
"Is that so?"
"Sure! His favourite girl and his favourite son- sorry, second favourite…"
"Yeah, real funny…" Aiden mounted Ryder and stroked his mane, shushing the stallion.
"You wanna give me the money," Alice said, holding out a hand. Aiden turned to face her, narrowing his eyes.
"Excuse me?"
Alice grinned widely. "I'm just joking, Aiden. I know you're the one calling the shots 'round here… so big and strong and scary…"
"Whatever, Alice…" Aiden muttered as he began to canter away on Ryder with Alice following close behind on Birdie.
Father Elijah was forty-eight. His hair was more salt than pepper, and his skin had begun to wrinkle. He told himself most of it was the stress of the life, and he wasn't actually that old. When he once found it reassuring to be around Near and Abuela, reminding him of his youth, all he felt now was the harsh realization. He was closer to their age than to the younger blood of the gang.
Near was seventy-seven. Half-blind, half-legged and still half-crazed at Rune. He'd become more surly in his old age. Often snapping and smacking Jay or Sam with his cane when they were drunk or asleep on guard duty. The only people he truly softened around were Enzo, Charlotte and Aiden. And, of course, Abuela.
Abuela was seventy-two, though she'd pinch the ear of anyone who said this. Her age was a closely-guarded secret that she would never let anyone know. The secret to her old age, however, she only shared with the gang. It was all in the food. Her stew was never entirely meat, there was always more vegetables. The fresh, clean air… and just enough rum to keep the heart pumping blood around the body.
"Enzo," Near said. "Of course."
"But no including Enzo," Elijah said, "or Miss Charlotte, either!"
Near rubbed his chin as he scanned the fresh faces of the others. "Well, Sam, clearly."
"Well, of course Sam, everyone knows Lil' Sam. But who then?"
"Jay," Night's Hawk said from the table he sat on, sewing the eagle's feather into the brown hat.
"Really?" Elijah raised an eyebrow.
"He does act like a child…" Paloma said from her seat, darning a shirt. The four of them chuckled.
"I think it might be Miss Anna," Elijah stated firmly.
"You have seen her, right?" Near scoffed.
"She's been through a lot- you can't judge her age from how she looks."
"That's how everyone judges age, Padre," Paloma said with a roll of the eyes.
"Anastasia was born two months to the day before me," Night's Hawk said, pulling on the thread and examining the feather. Near glanced to Abuela with a smirk for a split second before looking back to his journal and continuing his scribbling.
"Wait, you're not born in December?" Elijah frowned. "We've never celebrated your birthday!"
"Why would you?" Night's Hawk frowned.
"Because it's the year you were given to us! We would give you gifts, cook you nice food-" Elijah was cut off by Paloma clearing her throat. "Abuela would cook you nice food…" Elijah corrected himself.
"But… why?"
"Because you… well- it's a special day."
"But it's not," Night's Hawk frowned. "We all have a day we were born on. It's… the least special thing about us."
Near chuckled from across the table.
"Yes, I can see why you'd think that, but…" Elijah thought hard. "But… ah! We celebrate the year we've lived! A birthday is a celebration of your past year, because life is fleeting and fragile and precious!"
Night's Hawk narrowed his eyes. "But… why a year?"
Elijah opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. He sighed. "I don't know, Night's Hawk, it's tradition…"
Night's Hawk nodded, satisfied with that answer before walking to Near and handing him his brown leather hat back.
"Oh, thank you, boy…" Near took the hat and stroked the eagle feather, smiling fondly, though, not entirely sure of why Night's Hawk had done this. "This… well, I didn't think I could like this any more."
"Near! Father!" Anna shouted into the camp as she rode back. Everyone turned to see her pulling Sam off the horse. Sam's face was covered in blood.
"Sam's hit!" Charlotte yelped and immediately made her way to the horse, helping Anna carry him over to the table. Everything was wiped off the tabletop and Sam was placed down on it, unmoving. "Is he dead?"
"No…" Elijah said, feeling Sam's neck. "No, he's still alive…"
"What is it?" Everyone turned to see Rune striding over from his tent. Half a century old and still able to ride, kill and rob, the leader of the Rune Brody gang made his way to the table to examine Sam. "Oh, my boy…"
"I need to stop the bleeding…" Elijah said. "Make sure an infection doesn't settle in…"
Near laughed as he hobbled around the table. "Calm down, Charlie, he ain't gonna die… Sam's been through worse than this."
"Listen to Near, niño," Abuela called over to Charlotte before turning to Night's Hawk, "you know any herbs?"
Night's Hawk nodded and, picking up his bow, strode away from the campsite.
"Aiden and Alice?" Rune asked Anna.
"Right behind me with the money."
Rune sighed. "God in heaven, what happened?"
"Things went sideways, Rune…" Anna explained. "They went to get money from the other side of town and…"
More horses whinnied and Aiden and Alice entered the campsite, dismounting and hitching their horses to the trees. Alice made her way over to Lana while Aiden clutched a dark stalker hat in one hand as he approached the table.
"You alright, son?"
"We're fine… it ain't my blood," Aiden explained. "Sam?"
"He'll be fine. Alive, anyway…"
Aiden nodded, going to walk forwards, but Rune caught his arm. "You get the money?"
"That's what you're worried 'bout right now?"
"I just don't want this to be for nothing."
Aiden nodded. "I got it."
"How much?"
"I ain't counted it yet, but Colter said he reckoned eighty dollars or so."
Rune nodded. "Put it in the strongbox." Aiden held up the dark hat and Rune nodded. "Go on."
He watched as his eldest son went to his youngest and placed the dark stalker hat on his stomach. He couldn't help but smile and feel a twinge of pride upon this. He'd at least raised them right.
Jay groaned as he came to. His head hurt like a whore's thighs. Slowly, the shapes began to come into focus and he found that the squiggles and lines were actually bars. Iron bars.
"Oh, you puto…" Jay rubbed his head – one hand slapped him in the face. He looked down to see both of his hands shackled together. "Handcuffs and a cell?" He called out as he slowly sat up. "What is that… thing about hats on hats?"
"You best keep your mouth shut, bean-eater," the southern drawl belonged to a man with both feet on his desk. His moustache was waxed up and his brown eyes focused on Jay. "There's a fine for drunken behaviour in Rhodes."
"Where?" Jay groaned.
"Thing is, I know you ain't got no money on you." There was a familiar click and Jay looked up to see the lawman playing with one of his revolvers. "Got real nice iron for a spic-fuck, ain't ya?"
"Oh, cabrón…" Jay chortled. "Oh, you don't know what's coming…"
"Don't I?" The lawman scoffed.
"I've killed a lotta men for that iron there…" Jay smiled pleasantly.
"Good," the lawman said, slinking down into the chair and moving his wide-brimmed hat over his eyes, "'cos killers hang in Rhodes, Lemoyne."
Wow, this was way longer than it was going to be. But, I hope you enjoyed! So, I'll try and update tomorrow, but it'll be closer to half the length of this chapter… or maybe not. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed and I'll see ya for the next chapter!
R.