Three bullets, p.20
Three Bullets, page 20
Baron disregarded the sight and dashed towards cover. Three of his men fell before making it inside. He shook his head and popped out from behind an outhouse to take a soldier down.
Both sides quickly made a barricade on opposing ends of the courtyard. More men came out of the mansion and dug in behind the overturned wagon. Baron looked for a way around. If he and another soldier snuck to his left, they could crawl inside the crew quarters and sneak from hut to hut along the side of the villa until they could get behind the barricade.
He elbowed Juan and motioned the plan to him. Juan leaned over to some of the others and told them the plan. The rest of his men popped up and began firing as Baron and Juan dashed from cover to cover across the yard.
As Baron sprinted towards one of the field houses, he caught a bullet in his shoulder. The impact knocked him over. Momentum made him roll behind the house, safe from any further shots.
He was lucky. Juan wasn’t, as a storm of bullets tore him apart before he could reach cover.
“Fuck,” Baron said as he pulled himself up and peeked inside a window. Even if he could make it to the end alone, he certainly didn’t have the firepower to take out all of the shooters behind the wagon.
As he opened the window and crawled inside, an idea hit him that made him smirk. His old room was down at the end of the hall. The place was no doubt trashed or given to one of Duke’s more loyal men by now, but Baron remembered something he had hidden there. Like any of the men in the courtyard, he loved a drink when he could get one. Unlike the rest of them, he knew where to hide a bottle or two to keep them from getting to it.
He crept along the hallway, holstering his pistols in exchange for his sawed-off. Two doors away from his room, one of Duke’s soldiers charged inside the building, likely with the same flanking plan as Baron. He dove into a room before the man could see him. The soldier slowly walked down the hallway. He began talking to another voice behind him. Baron sighed as he readied himself.
As the soldier walked by the open door, Baron charged him. He fired his shotgun into the man’s torso, throwing him onto a cot in the opposite room. He spun towards the second man, emptying the second barrel towards the man’s head.
The blast was too far off to kill, only taking a good portion of his face. The man fired blindly as Baron scrambled inside the opposite room. He dove towards the dead man’s rifle near his cot and waited for the faceless man to empty his revolver.
He peeked out and saw the man trying to make his way back towards the exit. If he got more men in here, Baron wouldn’t stand a chance. He leaned out and took aim with the rifle. He got the man in the head again, but this time he fell for good.
Baron sighed in relief as he grabbed his shotgun and reloaded while walking towards his old room. When he got inside, he quickly headed for the old bed and moved it aside. He felt along the corner of the bedroom until he found the old plank. It was still as loose as when he was living here. He pried the plank back and peeked inside the hole.
Sure enough, the bottles were there: two bottles of distilled vodka that he stole from some Poles a month earlier. The stuff was stronger than any drink he had had before or since. He knew it would burn well enough.
He worked his way from hut to hut until he was right next to the Duke’s mansion. He hopped outside the window and peeked around the corner.
The Duke’s men were still gathered around the wagon, firing away at what was left of Baron’s group. He cursed. He was down to four men. If he didn’t play this right, none of them were making it out alive.
He squatted down and tore off pieces of the bandages around his forearm. He doused them in the alcohol, his nostrils stinging as he did so, and stuffed the pieces into the ends of the bottles. He lit both pieces and they ignited. He double-checked that his pistols were fully loaded, then holstered them and picked up the bottles. He smiled as he leaned around the corner and flung both of them at the mass of soldiers.
The bottles burst as they crashed near the men, spraying flames throughout the area. The fires weren’t as strong as Baron had hoped. None of the men were engulfed.
They didn’t need to be. The fires were just strong enough to make the men instinctively step out of their cover to escape the flame, which was all Baron and his men needed to finish them off. Baron took down two with his pistols while his men ended the last three. One of the men fell back into the flames, sending the sickening smell of burning flesh throughout the town.
When the firing ceased, Baron stepped out into the open and motioned for his men to move forward. They dashed across the courtyard like cockroaches while the shooters on the wall climbed down like monkeys. They covered the windows and the doors to the mansion. Baron holstered his pistols and calmly paced in front of the main doors.
“Any one of Duke’s men wants to live, they can toss their guns out now and walk away. You’ve got my word we won’t do a thing to you. Ain’t gonna offer this twice. Once we come inside, we shoot anyone we see.”
He waited a moment. The front door opened. Rifles and pistols slid out. A muscular white man with a thick mustache and week-long scruff came out with his hands raised.
“That you, Bennett?” Baron asked with a smile. Bennett was one of his favorites.
“Sure is, Baron.”
“Glad to see you got some sense in you.”
“This ain’t worth it. You can have the fuckin’ prick. His money’s no good if he’s too dead to pay. I’m done.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“There’s two more in there. One at the top of the stairs. He’s got a line on the front door. Last one’s in the Duke’s office with him.”
“Much obliged. You know, there’s always room for you here if you want.”
Bennett spat onto the ground and looked out at the bodies.
“Ain’t for me anymore,” he said as his eye caught the burning body. “Too much violence. Hurts the soul, you know? I grew up as a farmhand. I’d rather die as one than wind up like that.”
“Then I wish you the best of luck with it.”
“Thanks. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get out of here before whoever’s left of Duke’s men hear the news.”
“You get right along then,” Baron said as he turned back towards the mansion.
As Bennett walked across the courtyard, Baron considered putting him down for not joining him in the beginning. He thought back to the deputy’s girl, then decided it wasn’t necessary. He liked and respected the man too much to give him a bullet in the back. Besides, it didn’t matter at this point. The bigger prize was inside.
The problem, though, was how to get to it. He didn’t want to lose any more men charging in. They could handle the last two men, but Baron knew the mansion well enough to know that whoever was at the top of the stairs would get at least two of them before they could clear a path. He had a perfect line of sight on the front door and the windows.
But not on the balcony on the side of the mansion. To cover that, he would need to clear the stairwell and head further down the hall. Assuming the last man was still hiding away with the Duke, they had the numbers to surround the shooter. It would be risky, but doable.
Baron pulled aside two of his men and told them to head to the balcony. They nodded and hurried along to the side of the building. The two men helped each other up along the side of the wall and then hopped across the gap to the balcony. Baron waited until he heard them breaking open the locked balcony doors. Footsteps followed as the shooter ran away from the stairs to cover the balcony.
Baron and the rest of his men dashed inside and headed up the stairs, their weapons ready. He saw the Duke’s servant standing in the corner of the room, terrified. Staying true to his ultimatum, he shot the man without hesitation before continuing upwards.
As he neared the top of the stairs, Baron considered his options. He could turn right at the top and follow the gunfire, killing the shooter and making sure there weren’t any more men to deal with before facing the Duke. He could go left instead and take the Duke on first, potentially stopping the shooting.
He didn’t have time to decide. As he reached the top of the stairs and looked to his left, he saw a muzzle flash from further down the hallway and took a bullet to the head. He tumbled backwards and rolled down the stairs into a crumpled heap.
=-=
Baron flew through the ether, lost in a lack of feeling. He looked above him. A bright blue sky with no sun greeted him. Despite the lack of sun, he felt warmth hitting his face. He smiled and breathed in crisp air. He turned his body around and looked below.
A vivid purple fog covered the ground and stretched into eternity. It made him uneasy, but he found himself accepting it. He reached out a hand and brushed it through the mist, leaving phosphorescent finger trails in his wake. He tried to pull his hand away and turn to the skies. He couldn’t.
A scaled black hand emerged from the cloud and grabbed his arm. It pulled him down inside the fog and he plummeted into cracked earth. He stood up and looked around.
Mangled bodies surrounded him. Confederate and Union uniforms alike covered the bloodied corpses. He knew their faces. Soldiers he had killed. Soldiers he had fought beside. Men who died in his stead.
His father stood above him, his skull split and bleeding. He stared endlessly at Baron. Baron seethed at first and stared back.
He noticed his mother next to his father, standing still, a bottle in her hand and her face locked in one of horror from asphyxiation. Shaw emerged next, his face torn to ribbons as Baron had last seen him. The boy from the robbery was near him, his face frozen in the hope he had when Baron had ended him. The girl with the torn throat from the bank stood by him. The deputy and his girl came forth, hand in hand, still carrying the mortal wounds he had given them.
Above them all were two Negros, an older and a younger one, hanging by the neck from a floating branch.
He began to worry. He looked around, trying to find an escape. He turned away from them and ran. As he looked ahead, they appeared again in front of him. He stopped and looked around him.
More and more people from his past surrounded him, each of them as they were when their lives ended. They closed in. He panicked. He swung at them. His fist went through them like through fog. He growled in rage.
The phantoms erupted in flames, fading away in black smoke as burning fire surrounded him. A path cleared in front of him. A figure emerged from the dark.
A tall man with a wide frame in a duster jacket and hat stepped forward. He took off his hat and looked at Baron. Half of the man’s face was gone, melted off by the flame. The other half stared at him with a bloodlust he was all too familiar with. The single eye struck through him and his rage turned into fear.
Baron collapsed onto his knees, screaming and begging for the pain, the fear, the sorrow to end.
The purple fog above him cleared and the one-eyed phantom disappeared with the flames. The ground grew grass and he felt the warmth from above at last. He looked towards the phantom.
His sister stood in front of him, a smile on her face. Tears stained his eyes as he crawled forward and held her.
“I’m sorry,” he wept. “I’m so sorry…”
He looked up to her. They were surrounded again by the phantoms of the past. He held her tightly as her presence kept them away.
“Why are you doing this,” she whispered gently to him.
He looked around at the legacy he had made and wept out of sorrow.
“I…I don’t know,” he said, broken.
“There’s still hope. You’re better than this.”
“I lost that when I lost you.”
He looked into her eyes as she faded away. Baron took a deep breath and readied himself for the phantoms. They never came and his world faded to white.
=-=
Baron awoke to the sound of gunfire. He looked around, lost to the world. He couldn’t remember where he was or where he had just been. All he could remember was that he didn’t want to go back.
One of his men was squatting near him, a concerned look on his face.
“Mierda, you okay, boss?”
Baron wasn’t sure. He checked his body. His ribs and shin hurt. His wrist was sprained and a few fingers broken. He put his hand to his head. He felt the wound where the bullet had hit. He sighed in relief. The bullet had only grazed him. Even so, it made a large gash near his temple. Blood was seeping down and getting into his eye. He wiped away what he could and slowly got to his feet.
“I’ll live.”
“We got both of Duke’s men.”
“Did you, now?”
“Sí. He’s in his office. Hector is watching him.”
“Good. Let’s go meet the Duke.”
He walked up the stairs, thrilled that it was finally over. As he neared the office, he could not help but notice that, in spite of the joy, he also felt slightly off, and he had no idea why. Probably just the fall, he figured as he tried shrugging the idea off. He hid it well enough as he walked into the room.
“Mister Macready,” He said with a smirk as he entered.
The Duke looked at him with a mix of rage and hurt as he sat at his desk, a bullet wound in his shoulder.
“Coming to gloat?” he winced as he clutched his arm and wheezed through his mouth.
“Ain’t much for that kind of act.”
“Good, because I’m not begging.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. If you want to kill me, then do it. Don’t waste my time.”
“Oh, I intend to. Any reason I shouldn’t?”
The Duke began to chuckle. He rubbed his temples and covered his eyes. Baron wasn’t sure if he was still chuckling or crying.
“No,” Duke said dejectedly. “None at all.”
“Well, ain’t that a shame.”
“Completely.”
Baron stood there, ready to fire his sawed-off. The Duke stared back at him, unwilling to look away. Baron refused to fire. The Duke began to waiver, the tension pushing him to the edge.
“Goddammit, shoot!” he shouted.
Baron held his shotgun at his side, then lowered it and smirked.
“Are you kidding me,” Duke mumbled. He chuckled again and stood up. He walked to the window overlooking the ruined courtyard. He sighed as he stared out at his ruined empire.
“I will say this,” he said. “Once you get a taste for it, you-”
Baron fired both barrels into the Duke’s back. He let out a quick yelp before falling into the corner of the office. His flailing hands pulled a row of books from a shelf. They fell on top of his body. One flew open and landed on his face, covering it as he began to wheeze and gurgle on his blood. His leg twitched involuntarily as the wheezing slowed.
Baron stood in admiration of his victory and stared at the dying man until the wheezing finally stopped.
He walked over to the other end of the desk and sat down in the leather chair. He propped his feet up on the desk and smiled again.
“So what now,” one of his men asked.
Baron gave a deep breath and looked through a pile of financial papers on his new desk.
“Lot of money in that safe downstairs. Five thousand of it goes to the man who can find whoever robbed our train. You go tell that to our men around the town. The rest of us’ll start cleaning things up here.”
“Yes sir.”
Sir. Baron couldn’t remember the last time he was called that. He grinned as he looked out of the window among the dead.
.V.
.19.
.One-Eye.
One-Eye finishes stuffing his share of the money into his knapsack before heading out of the cabin. He looks around at all of the men. Each of them is hurriedly loading up their horses, mild excitement covering all of their faces. If they can make it out of the state with their share intact, each of them could retire now.
Even so, this does not change the fact that Baron’s men are still looking for them. Getting out wasn’t going to be easy unless they took the harsh back roads out of the county, which also weren’t going to be easy.
One-Eye and Dale turn as they hear a horse in the distance. Patton comes around the bend, a worried look in his eyes. They walk over to greet him. Moss follows them.
“Evenin’, Dale,” Patton says as he slows down near the cabin.
“Glad you made it back,” Dale replies. “So what’s it like?”
“It ain’t good. The town’s still recovering from the train job. Baron’s group are starting to look all over.”
“Were you followed?”
“Don’t think so, but I still think we should leave tonight.”
“Agreed. You’d best go in and pack your things. I think we’ll head out in an hour.”
Patton hops off his horse and starts to head inside.
“One more thing,” he says, turning back to them.
“Yeah?”
“They’ve put out a bounty on Jack,” he says, nodding to One-Eye.
“How much?”
“Eight thousand.”
Dale whistles as Moss scratches his mustache. He looks to One-Eye.
“Pissed them off bad. That would be a hell of a reward.”
“Would be,” One-Eye grunts.
“Would be if we didn’t each just make over twice as much of that.”
“What a shame.”
“Yup. Already got too much money as it is. Really wouldn’t know what to do if we got the bounty money as well.”
“You could make sure you’d die rich.”
“Hell, what does that matter?”
“I guess it don’t in the long run.”
“Nope. Fun as it is, it’s useless if you ain’t got anyone to share it with.”
One-Eye thinks about this for a time. He could have had a whole family to share his journey with if it weren’t for Baron. Now he is destined to end alone, and he hates the man even further for this.
“I guess O’Hara never had anyone,” Dale says sorrowfully. “He was a good kid.”
“He was something.”
