Lawless Liberty Ch. 03

June 6, 1883

-Liberty-

The sun is starting to rise. I lean against the door frame of the hunting shack, and light a cigarette I pulled from the pocket of the Frenchmen. It's my turn to keep watch while Justin and Jesus are resting. Justin certainly needs it the most, so after we patched him up, he damn near passed out. Jesus didn't sleep at all, so even when he's supposed to be getting some sleep, he sits on a chair with his gun at the ready.

We carried the men out of the shack and tossed them behind back. We laid the bodies out in a neat row as respectful as we could. Certainly more respect than these men deserved.

Jesus joins me at the door, and I offer him a cigarette which he declines.

"We need somewhere to go," I say, tapping the ash outside the door.

"I got a place in mind," Jesus says, then looks over at the room where Justin is sleeping. "Once he's ready for travel, we'll head further west."

"Where do you have in mind?" I ask.

"The old Sheriff of Utopia staked some land out after Leavenworth arrived. I visit from time to time," he says, and I nod, then realize I'm going to go to the former Sheriff after I murdered the current.

"What does that mean for me?" I ask, and he looks at me. "Considering I killed his replacement."

"Mutually trying not to die creates strange bed fellows," he says, and I take a puff. "We'll cross the bridge when we get there."

We're both silent for a minute, and I break the quiet with a question.

"So, you're not Mexican?" I ask, and he grins a little.

"I'm from Texas," he says. "My parents are Mexican though. You?"

"New Jersey," I say, flicking the cigarette out the door. "Parents are from New Jersey though," I continue, making him chuckle a little.

"How did Sigmund get your brother killed?" he asks, and I'm quiet again. "You don't have to talk about it."

"Leavenworth was a merchant boat Captain during the war, my brother worked for him. The rebels captured them at open water and held them at Castle Thunder. They were put on military trial for being spies. They weren't, but Leavenworth gave a false confession and said my brother was. They shot him soon after."

"What if your brother was?" he asks.

"If he was, I would have been damned proud of him regardless," I say, and he kind of nods. "Leavenworth was the last on my list. I killed the Commander of Castle Thunder first, then the man who pulled the trigger. The Captain of the Confederate ship and his first mate were next. Last was Leavenworth."

"How long did that take?"

"Years. I started this three years ago," I say, and we both hear some noise from the room. Justin limps out, holding his left hand which was likely still throbbing from one and half fingers getting cut off. "You good?"

"Define good," he says, and takes the chair Jesus was just sitting in. On the table was a bottle of whiskey that he takes a hearty gulp from. Not even a cough.

"You a good drinker?" I ask, but he ignores the question. "Jesus, fill him in."

"I know someone who could give us some shelter until we sort this thing out," Jesus says, and Justin takes another sip, gesturing for him to continue. "Damon has a homestead further west, maybe a few hours. We could get there before noon."

"Damon Killian?" he asks, and Jesus nods. "That gonna be a problem with the Sheriff killer here?"

"We could leave a few things out," Jesus suggests, and Justin shrugs.

"When do we move?" I ask.

"As soon as he's ready," Jesus says, then looks at Justin again.

"I can handle the ride," Justin says, standing up slowly, finishing the bottle and placing it back on the table. "Let's get moving."

--

June 6, 1883

-Jesus-

I can tell just by looking at him the ride is rough for Justin. He's a tough son of a bitch, so he doesn't say anything about the discomfort. He grunts as Liberty leads the horse, but we don't stop for anything.

The sun is at its peak when I can see the outlines of a structure in the distance. We are getting close to Damon's. I can see his home and the barn slowly taking shape as we approach.

The old man must have heard the hooves because I see someone stepping off the porch with a rifle or shotgun over his shoulder. In just a minute I can see it is Damon, and he lowers the gun and places it against the side of his porch.

I stop the horse just in front of his property and hitch it on a slab of wood he's likely hammered in for just that purpose. Damon is walking at me as I'm walking toward him, and when we meet in the middle, he wraps me in a big hug.

Damon Killian and I go back a long time. He was my Sergeant during the war with the Indians, and I survived the battle of Little Bighorn under his leadership. Thankfully we were under the command of Major Reno and not Custer, otherwise we'd be dead. We didn't survive the battle because of Reno; he was just as foolish that day.

Damon has aged as well as any soldier has, which is horribly. He is a shell of the man I first met all those years ago, and he was old when I met him. He fought in the war with the south under Sherman and fought in his entire campaign. His sturdy frame has degraded into a corn stalk. He looks as if a large breeze would blow him down.

"Our lord and savior," he says with a laugh. "Hola."

"Your Spanish still sucks," I say, and he laughs again. I hear the door shut and look up the porch to see his daughter Jessica approaching. "Hola Senorita."

Jessica looks as vibrant as ever. A young widow who's been living with her father since her husband died at Little Bighorn. He was one of those unfortunate bastards who was with Custer. Unlike her father's ashen grey hair, her hair is a brown so dark it doesn't shimmer.

"Good to see you Jesus," she says, wrapping me in a hug as well. She then looks past me and to Liberty helping Justin off the horse. "You brought friends?"

"Not quite," I say, and Damon looks at me, then at them. I'm surprised it took him this long to notice how injured we look.

"You all look like you've been through hell," Damon says, and I nod. "We'll talk inside. Jessie, get some coffee ready."

"Yes daddy," Jessica says, and starts making her way back inside.

We all take seats inside while Jessica works on the coffee, pouring us all a portion in mismatching cups.

"Sorry the cups ain't the same, we usually don't have this much company," Jessica says, and we all ensure her it's perfectly all right. "Why do you all look like something a cat coughed up?"

All three of us look at each other, and Justin decides to lead the explanation. Damon quietly sips his coffee and listens, stopping to ask a question every couple of minutes. For now, he leaves out the fact Sigmund is dead, and the girl in his home pulled the trigger. When we explain the stagecoach getting robbed, he laughs out loud.

"Wait, you robbed the robbers?" he asks Liberty, who nods. "Haha! Damn, that's funny. Take it they didn't take too kindly to that?"

"No, they caught up to us, but we got the upper hand and had to kill them," I say, Damon finishing his coffee. "It's not over yet."

"Does the Twenty-Two-Bust gang actually have twenty-two members, or is that just a name?" Liberty asks.

"It's both. If they lose a member, they recruit someone new to keep the number flush. Seeing how I doubt they've recruited new people in a day, but they're like the Persian Immortals," Damon says, and I can tell Liberty doesn't follow.

"The what?"

"The royal guard to King Darius of the Persian Achaemenid empire," Justin explains, and she's even more confused. "Should I just assume if it doesn't involve guns, horses, or vengeance you will have no idea?"

"Safe bet," she says, and I laugh a little. "I know Shakespeare though."

"Plenty of vengeance there," Damon says, and Liberty smiles at him. "Did you happen to get the name of their leader?"

"I don't think so," I say, but Liberty interrupts.

"I think we did actually. They mentioned Justin knocked his tooth out," Liberty says, and suddenly I remember.

"Hardgrave," I say, and Damon sighs. "You know that name?"

"I heard rumors he was running them, but hadn't heard anything to confirm that," he says, and I ask if he knows him. "Never one on one, but I've heard of him, and I fought against him in the war. He was a Confederate Major under Johnson. A damned good one, not like Reno who commanded Jesus and I against the Lakota. He held his line and rebuffed three charges at Kennesaw Mountains in Georgia. It's likely one of his men who shot McCook."

"This gang behaves far more organized than I've seen common thugs act. They're still savages, but they're not dumb," I say, and Damon nods.

"Could we just kill him? Head of the snake?" Liberty asks.

"Any other gang I'd reckon that's the way to go, but not this group. It'd hit their morale, but they have a command structure. In fact, he's likely the last man you want to kill. The only thing stopping them from being less than savage, is him."

"Which also means," Justin begins, taking a sip and putting his cup down. "We can negotiate with him."

"I'd say it's probable. Dangerous, but probable," Damon concurs, and the room is stuffy in silence. "What do you have in mind?"

"Give him the money," Justin says.

"If we walk into their camp with the money, he'll just shoot us and take it," I say.

"Agreed, so we give him a little, then tell him where the rest is."

"Can we just hide out?" Liberty asks, "Or go further west?"

"My life is here, I'm not going anywhere," I say.

"And he's not walking away from sixty thousand," Justin says, and she bites her lip. "It has to be me who does it."

"Why?" Damon asks.

"Because he knows I won't bluff," he says, and I kind of agree with him. "He's likely to kill Liberty because she stole it, and Jesus because he's the law. I'm just a banker who got a lucky punch at him."

"That wasn't luck though," I say, and Justin looks to me. "I saw you beat down four men, with one good hand. You know your way around a brawl, mind explaining how you do?"

We all look at Justin, who smirks, then chuckles a little.

"My occupation has nothing to do with my fists. I grew up in the wrong neighborhood in Chicago. Mother and father died young, and I ganged around the city until the Church got me off the street. You had to get good at fighting. I boxed during college, fourteen and zero record. I just happen to like numbers."

"I grew up in Jersey in a stable home," Liberty says. She looks taken aback that she, the outlaw, had a better childhood than Justin. By all counts, he should be where she is, but he isn't. He grew and overcame his childhood. She let the loss of her brother consume her.

"Justin," I say to get his attention. "Are you sure about this plan?"

"We don't need to decide anything tonight," Damon says, and I look over at him. Damon then turns his head to Jessica and say, "Make sure we have some beds ready. And get some more wood from the barn for the fire."

"Yes daddy," Jessica says, and starts to walk toward the door.

"I'll help," I say, standing from my chair and walking out the door with her. Jessica smiles over her shoulder at me as we make our way to the barn.

We enter the barn, and instead of grabbing the logs already chopped and stacked neatly to the side, we grab each other. Jessica grabs the collar of my shirt and thrusts her mouth to mine, and I wince from the gunshot wound that almost took my shoulder.

"What?" Jessica asks, then pulls down my collar.

"It's fine, it was only a graze," I say, and we resume. She pushes me back toward the corner, and we keep at it. Her hands immediately go for my belt, and I reach under her dress and loop my finger on her underpants. My pants fall, and her hand starts stroking me to get me ready. With her free hand she licks her fingertips and applies the moisture to herself.

I spin her around and press her back is against the wall. I feel myself stiffen up, and I'm fully erect in seconds. I lift her up, insert myself, and her legs wrap around me. Her elbows rest on my shoulders, and her hands start pulling my hair. Our lips connect and our tongues dance.

"Harder," Jessica says into my ear, and I do as told. "Don't go too soon."

"I'll hold back," I say, and Jessica suddenly gasps and pushes me back. I turn my neck and see Liberty in the barn. "Um..hey."

"Don't stop just because of me," Liberty says, grabs a few logs, and laughs a little. "I just wanted to help too. Didn't think I'd be interrupting something."

Jessica is beat red and looking way from Liberty and me.

"I'd appreciate it, if you..."

"...don't tell your daddy?" she says, exaggerating an accent. Jessica nods. "Tell him what?"

"That we were doing this," Jessica says, and Liberty laughs.

"Holy hell woman, you don't catch my meaning?" Liberty asks, and Jessica is confused. "Tell him what? I didn't see nothing." Jessica understands now, and nods, still blushing.

"Thank you," Jessica says, and Liberty smiles to her, then leaves the barn with the logs. "There goes the mood."

I'm willing to shake off the interruption, but Jessica is too concerned to continue. We both repair our wardrobes and carry an arm full of logs to the house.

--

June 6, 1883

-Justin-

Before dark, we've agreed to the plan. We'll retrieve a single gold bar of the money to show we still know where it is and are willing to bargain. They keep the money, they leave, we live. Jesus and I ride back until we're close and get the rest of the way on foot, while Liberty rides up near their camp to wait for us. If it is their camp, they put it on the largest elevation point around, so no one could aim into it.

When we find the trunk, it is now tipped over and they started to dig the hole where we left the shovel. Jesus says we should be quiet in case they're around still. I can barely see a foot in front of me, and using a lantern right now is just too dangerous. The moon is giving us almost nothing, but we have just enough to move with some competence.

"Where did you put it?" Jesus whispers to me, and I point down the path us dragging the trunk made. I'm surprised he saw me point to be honest.

"Just a little ahead. We didn't mark it, but I think I could still find it, even in the dark," I say, and we stay low as we move. "About here."

I cut from the path and try to retrace my steps, pushing my feet into the dirt to see if I can feel a softer spot. It takes a minute, but I think I find it. I start digging with my right hand, and within a minute I've unearthed a gold bar. I take it, cover the hole best I can, and put the bar into a small bag Damon loaned us.

"I need to tell you something," Jesus says, and I look over at him. "I was suspicious of you, because Primrose said you did it voluntarily when he reported the robbery."

"What?" I ask, and he nods.

"When you said they beat it out of him, I was skeptical, because he didn't have a scratch on him. No one laid a hand on that man," he says, and I am not sure what to make of that. Did Primrose help them?

"Why would he say that?" I ask.

"Do you think he could be helping them?" he asks, and I shrug. "He's the wealthiest man in town, he doesn't need the money, and reporting a robbery makes him look bad to the company, don't it?"

I think for a moment, and I remember something. Primrose does need the money.

"Primrose is the poorest man in town as a matter of fact," I say, and I Jesus asks me how that is. "Primrose is in debt to his eyeballs. He's lost every red cent in the depression. All his money was tied up in rail and steel, and those stocks are worthless now."

"Why have someone rob his own bank?" Jesus asks.

"The money is insured," I say, and Jesus is starting to understand.

"His bank doesn't really lose anything, and he secretly pockets a portion to settle his debts," Jesus says, and I nod in agreement. "Son of a bitch."

"We don't know that for sure yet, but it does make sense," I say.

Jesus and I both hear hooves and look at each other before ducking down. It comes closer to us, and I hold my breath when I can see the silhouette of a horse toward where the wagon was left.

"How many times does Hardgrave want us to look?" a man says, and I hear his feet crunch on the ground. I peer up a little to see two horse and duck back down.

"It's clear they left this trail to confuse us. They didn't bury that money anywhere near here," a second man says, and dismounts his horse as well.

"Let's just do a quick peek, just to say we did," the first man says. I look over at Jesus who slowly draws his gun to have it ready.

"Have fun, I'll watch the horses," the second man says, and I hear the snap of a match to light a cigarette.

"I can't believe we haven't found these people yet," the first man says, and I hear his feet enter the grass. If he walks straight, he'll miss me under the darkness and the foliage. Not by much though. "Just a banker and some girl. Why is this taking so long?"

"That Mexican lawman is gone too. He went looking for them, but the scout still in town hasn't reported seeing them come back," the second man says, then spits.

"They'll turn up sooner or later," the first man says, and his feet are getting closer. "I want a crack at the girl. I was in town when she took the wagon with that banker in the back. Good looking for a bitch. I'd love to fuck her alone before Hardgrave has her passed around."

"Keep talking, you've never gotten pussy without paying for it," the second man says.

Those feet are getting too close to me. I look at Jesus and point to the man nearest us, and then point to myself. I then point toward the trail, then at him. Jesus understands the near one is mine if it comes to it. The man comes really close, but keeps walking, then stops when he hears something. Was it us? I tense up, but he starts to walk back toward the trail. I hear hooves now.

"Rook! Rook! Rook!" a third rider shouts as he rides up.

"Castle!" one of them shouts back. A challenge and password. "What the hell you doing here? Weren't you told to tell the guys at the shack to head back?"

"They're fucking dead!" he replies.

"What?"

"I said, they're fucking dead! All of them, and not just them, Bonaparte and his crew too," the third man says, and they start panicking.

"Who got em?"

"I don't know, but we gotta get back and tell Hardgrave!"

The first two hastily mount their horses and take off after the third. Jesus and I take a relieved breath, but don't stand up until we can't hear the horses.

"They're panicking. Still sure you want to just walk straight into their camp?" Jesus asks, and I contemplate for a moment. "Justin?"

"I'm still doing it," I say, and touch the gold bar through the bag. "We can't run forever, and we just confirmed they got a scout in Utopia still."

"We can get back, send a telegram for help," Jesus suggests, and I shake my head.

"Who can help? It'll take days for anyone from Omaha to arrive, if they ever come. How many fighters do we have in Utopia? Men or women who will grab a gun if the gang does attack the town?" I ask, and Jesus opens his mouth, but closes it.

"Not many," he says, after a moment of thought. "Whole town asses puckered the moment shots went off. The only person who helped was Hilbert French, and Liberty shot that poor fuck in the shin."

"You got a better plan?" I ask.

"No, but because I don't have one doesn't make your plan not insane," he says, and I sigh. It is insane. That's why only one of us is going to walk in there.

"Let's meet up with Liberty and do this thing," I say, and Jesus reluctantly agrees we need to get moving.

--

June 6, 1883

-Liberty-

Justin and Jesus went off to get one of the gold bars from where we buried the money. This plan is stupid, but then again, this entire situation is stupid. I never imagined I'd could accidently steal money from a bank robbery.