Chapter 5

(Chapter song ‘Scooby Snacks' by Fun Lovin Criminals)

JESSE “HA!!”

I spur the horse to go faster across the desert to the hold up.

I snap the reins around its neck and lean forward. His body hot and sweat covered. His hooves hitting the hard soil gaining traction. It’s a days ride to the hide out. I managed to complete my side and fancy myself to be an expert in all things bank manager. He’s not that complicated, quite the opposite. A dying armadillo is more exciting.

My horse grunts and huffs as we get to the fence around the ramshackle ranch house. I drive the animal around to the back where the other horses are.

“Whoa…” I pull back on the reins, lift my leg off the saddle and jump to the ground. I flip the reins and walk the brown stallion to the water trough.

“Jesse.”

I look behind me as I hitch the horse. I leave him be and meet Dakota. I tug my hat brim as I meet him half way.

“What’s the story?” He asks. He’s pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders.

I had grabbed my clothes and released Mr. Pembrooke the day before. He’ll wake up bare ass in the woods and ramble on about some animal that nabbed him. People will think he’s either round the bend, or dumber than shit. Either way, he’s alive and I got what I needed.

I run my fingers through my now brown hair and replace my hat. I toss him Mr. Pembrookes wallet. Yes, I left the key and his account card in his clothes…he just…has to find them.

Dakota opens it and pulls out 300 greenbacks. He holds it up. “This'll help. What about the job?”

I join his side as we both walk to the ranch house. “There’s a problem with the job.”

“Damn it, Jesse! What is it?” He shakes his head. He hates kinks.

I hold my hand up to him. “Will you relax?! There’s a second sheriff that rolled in…”

“Second sheriff?” He sink his brow and looks me over.

“I reckon he’s from the city. Probably here for some big name.”

“Yeah you.” Dakota shoves me.

If the sheriff is who I think it is, he ain’t far off.

“Serious! This makes keeping two sheriffs busy a little difficult. We need to adjust the plan a bit.”

“What’s a bit?” He narrows his eyes at me.

****

The saloon was packed as usual. There’s a few faces that haven’t been since in a month in town since the laborers got the dough yesterday. Now, they’re here to make themselves broke before going back to work up more.

The piano man stroked the keys while the loose saloon girls donned their colors and painted faces. Giggling to the misters to get their coins.

The bar dog was slinging the juice that kept the men singing at the table three doors down.

A table full of old timers talk about how hard this past winter was. They also tell tales of being on the flatlands as boys.

In the back corner, the younger men eye up the women and talk of their last bed. Bunch of posers if you asked me.

I grab a shot of whiskey from the bar dog and join the boys at the table.

“Ok, Jesse. What are we doing?” Bill leans on the table.

I look around for prying ears. “We need a distraction. A big one. One that’ll draw out both lawmen. Then I go ghost and take Dakota and Harley with me, while you and Mutt continue the diversion.”

“Why do I have ta stay? I want in on the robbery!” He says louder than I like.

I shoot forward in my seat. “Will you shut yer yap?! Jesus. We’ll be caged up before we even git a chance because of yer big mouth.” I grit. “Dumb kid.” I growl and sit back.

“Alright, sorry. I’m just sayin’. I want in.” He whines like a girl.

I shake my head. “You are in. Just here.”

Mutt crosses his leg. “So what’s this distraction ya got in yer cap?”

“A dust up. Large.” I look around the table.

“A dust up. You mean a bar fight.” Harley crosses his arms.

“Yes, a bar fight, ya dandy.” I groan.

Harley, being the banker he is, has a problem speaking sometimes. I always shake my head.

“Yer meaner than a coyote with a toothache. What’s with you?” Dakota rolls his head to me.

“Nothin'" I grumble. Truth be told, I’m still rattled by my encounter with Penelope. It’s like she actually does know me and I pray to her good book that she doesn’t because a woman like that, shouldn’t be around the likes of me.

“Hey! Burly you keep those paws to yourself!”

I side eye a group of laborers around a table with some soiled doves. They’re all getting their fill tonight. One in particular. Guys like him are a dime a dozen in this place, but he seems to be so roostered, he don’t understand that ‘No, Sir' means just that.

“Come on, Cheryl. Just a little kiss…” He tries to pull on her and grabs her bosom. Bad choice.

“Ah!” She slaps him across the face so hard I’m sure the next town got the shiner. “I said let go. You got yer mitten, ya hear me?”

The moment I need.

I hear his chair toss as he stands. “What did you say to me, woman?!” I hear her squeal as he grabs her hair.

“How are ya going to start this dust up, Jesse.” Harley looks around the saloon, smug.

I see the drunkards arm raise and his fist ball in the corner of my eye. I turn to face Harley. “Like this.”

Without looking, I take barely a second to pull my iron, cock it and fire.

The women scream, the men yell and back off out of their seats then the place dies down. The piano man skids his keys before turning to me.

My aiming hand is still raised as I smirk at my boys.

“Holy shit! You shot without lookin'!” Bill sat wide eyed.

I turn my head to the drunkard in the floor, crying at his blood soaked fist.

“When you shoot with conviction, yer lead will know where to go.” I get up and slowly make my way across the floor.

I walk to the man barely out of 20 in black trousers, wearing just suspenders and shirt. No vest. I could of shot him for that.

“Wha…Why?” He stammers. His face plastered with the pain I just dealt him. His men watch me close. The women get out of the way.

I lock my eyes with his narrowed ones. Drool settles in his dark beard. He’s about my height, but on the floor, he’s the dog he wanted to be. His dirt covered shirt and collar is soaked in the red blood of his shame.

“Why did I shoot ya?” I side eye the saloon as I approach their table.

“You see…” I start as I pick a bullet, flick out my barrel and fill the empty chamber in my six iron. I give the barrel a spin and lower my gun to my side as my boots make the only sound in the place. I squat down to him. “I was over there mindin’ my own. I was going to stay that way until ya started yer ruckus.” I glance up at the blonde haired, painted lady in the red corset. “Now, I’ll admit, this lady lacks in the manners required when addressin’ a man. I’ll give ya that.” I turn back to his scared, but angry face.

I lean close to him, look him dead in the eye and place the barrel of my gun against his cheek. He winces at the heat on his skin. My jaw ticks. “Why did I shoot ya?” My voice is low and mean. “When you raise yer hand to a woman like ya would correctin’ yer boy, that just burns my hide to no end.”

I slightly tilt my head. His chest is heaving with nerves as he holds his bleeding hand that’s now missing two fingers. “You disturbed my shot, so I took yer fingers. I can make it an even 10 if ya like, but I think ya better git on outta here, real pronto like.” My eyes never leaves his as he flicks his around to his men.

I glance around their eyes too. My serious stare never falters.

I slowly stand and turn to the painted lady. “Ma'am.” I pull my hat brim and saunter back to the table. She gives a tiny smile and plays with her curls before I leave.

I pull out my chair, sit and pick up my whiskey glass. The men are all around the dog on the floor.

“Well, that was entertaining.” Harley says. He crosses his arm and raises a brow.

“Now that yer done showin’ off, what about this dust up?” Dakota asks.

“Wait for it…” I say as I casually drink my shot.

“Hey!” I hear from across the floor.

“Here we go.” I say low and throw the neck burner down my throat. I drop the glass and stand. “We’re gonna have ourselves a Hootin’ Annie.”

Harley whines. “Jesse, no…”

“Yeah…Hootin’ Annie.” Mutt rubs his hands as his eyes start to glow.

I point to him. “Not yet.”

He growls low.

A Hootin’ Annie is a get together in most tongues, but in my world, it means a dust up so large, someone gets hurt good. It has to be good. Law dogs don’t come in for just a scuffle.

Harley doesn’t like it because of the fact that he’s a soft greenhorn and hates violence. I just look at him and smile. Then I get my card face on.

My boys all sit at attention. I see their hands fall to their irons on their hips.

A dusty, hell-fired man stands in front of six other laborers. His hands hang at his sides.

He curls his lips. “We was just havin’ a little fun, Jack. We don’t need some crusty, old rustler ruining our good time.” He snarls then sucks his teeth.

“Clive…” A blonde kid in the back hisses a warning to his friend. Clive turns to him, shoots him a look and turns back to me.

“A rustler…You just call me…A rustler?” I slowly approach his space.

It may be true, but around here, thems fightin’ words.

“Ya heard me.” He ticks jaw and raises his chin.

I lower my head, close the gap and raise my eyes to meet his. “Now, why the hell would give a damn about what a high-grader thinks of me?”

I can tell he’s the type to pocket a nugget or two from the mines he works in.

“Clive, back off! That’s a gunsli…” Another man says.

He turns head. “Shut yer mouth, right now!”

He turns back. “You callin’ me a thief, rustler?”

I jut my chin, chew my cheek and stare him down. “Takes one to know one, don’t it?” I grit.

“You best know who yer talkin’ to, outlaw.” He grinds.

“I know exactly who I’m talkin’ to, dirt nap.” The corner of my lip turns up.

He nods slightly, forces a smile and just as expected, swings his fist. He coldcocks me and I'm shoved into the bar. My chest his the edge and my hands dig into the rail. I press my lips together and turn my head to him. He stand looking smart and nodding his head like he’s king of shit. I turn my head to my boys and nod.

Within a second I grab a barstool and throw it at him. It hits him and he crashes to the floor.

The boys all get up and steamroll the labor kids.

I grab Clive and deliver a solid punch like he gave me and knee his gut. I lift him up and give to more rounds before he shoves me off and I get tossed to a kid who has a couple inches on me. He slams his fist to my cheek and I grab his shirt. I slam my forehead into his nose and toss him to Dakota.

Dakota crushes his cheek bone and throws the guy over the bar unto the tender hiding behind it.

Mutt has a blonde kid and kicks him in the stomach. His eyes glow red and an evil smile spreads across his lips.

The boys eyes widen.

Mutt growls. “You in trouble now, boy.”

“What are you?!” His voice trembled like a frightened school girl.

“You’re nightmare.” He lets out a huge growl and throws him across the room into the piano. The women run, screaming, upstairs as more men join the fight.