Make It Out Alive

Authors Note:

I've had this idea in my head for a while and I figured why not try to write it out. I grew up watching Bonanza with my grandparents every time I'd go over there. They always had twenty or thirty of them recorded on their TiVo. On top of that William Johnstone books are my absolute favorite so I figured I'd give it a try.

If violence isn't your thing, or you're just looking for a stroker story, this one isn't for you, but I hope you give it a try anyways :)

*************

I wasn't getting out of this one. Guess I pushed my luck too far one too many times. I guess it could be worse though, I'm not a good man, so the world won't hurt from my absence, and I'm not leaving a wife and kids behind. I had to laugh out loud when I thought about what my headstone would say, if I got a headstone at all.

"Here lies Jack Margrave, a bad man. A thief and a killer. We are better off with him in this hole," or something along those lines.

They wouldn't be wrong if that's what they chose to write. The year was eighteen eighty-three, and I was one of the last true 'outlaws' still roaming around. The world didn't have much use for us anymore, not that it ever had much to begin with. I didn't kill for the fun of it. I only killed when I had to, usually in self defense. I didn't rob just anyone, never the common man. Yes I was a bad man, but I guess I could have been worse.

I rode with the 'Ten Guns' gang, though there were either more or less than ten people at a time, but I guess the name just stuck. The gang was all I'd ever known, being sort of adopted into it when I was thirteen after my parents were killed by a renegade Indian that left the reservation in hopes of making a name for himself.

The gang was my family. It was all I had. I'd gladly die for any one of them, but as the years wore on there were less and less of us, down to just nine guns these days, with a few women and a camp cook trailing along too.

We needed money and we needed to get the hell out of Texas. We'd definitely overstayed our welcome, and it seemed like half the state was after us, so Johnny Walker (not THAT Johnny Walker, though he did claim relation, not that it was true), the leader of the gang, came up with one last job for us to pull before we pulled out of the state and headed wherever he had in mind next.

The plan was always to do the job, split up, and meet at the predetermined location, though if shit really went wrong, the plan was always to just get clear and lay low, then once the heat wore off we'd either seek each other out if it wasn't that bad, or move on and start a new life if there wasn't going to be a gang to come back to.

The women and cook knew this plan too, and they were never in any danger. They traveled with us since they had nowhere else to go, but their names stayed clean. We were just a big family. They cooked, cleaned, and looked after us while we did the dirty work and funded our life. If everything went bad, they'd just move on like nothing happened, leaving letters posted to a 'William Clark Corrigan' at whatever post office was in the town they were closest to at the time so we could link up with them when it was clear.

This job looked like it was going to be a scatter and get the hell gone one. I wasn't sad that I was about to die, I was sad that the gang, my family, and everything I ever knew was about to cease to exist because somehow everything went wrong. How the hell were we supposed to know that there were six soldiers on travel orders who just happened to be in the bank when we rolled in?

It was a good plan. Jonny always had good plans. I guess that's why we were able to operate as long as we had. Unfortunately, that plan had gone to shit once the soldiers were discovered, since I was now hiding behind a barrel of flour in an alley behind the general store, burning through my ammo faster than I could reload my revolvers.

Clay, Preacher, Pardeen, and Wilkins were all cut down instantly. I was shot trying to get to my horse so I had to duck down an alley. Tom and Jonny managed to get to their horses, and Lee was with Kyle trying to shoot their way to the other end of town.

I was alone and they were closing in on me. I wasn't upset with those who could get out. The plan had hit the 'gone to shit' stage and everyone knew we had to scatter, especially with four men lying dead in the bank. We didn't have a chance. I really hoped they could make it out, and I resolved to put up one hell of a fight as to give them as much time to get clear as I could.

**

~Three weeks earlier~

"The hell are we gonna do Johnny?" I asked as I took a pull from the bottle of whisky he'd offered me.

It was just the two of us in his tent at camp then. Other than Clay, I was the longest tenured member of the gang, so that usually meant I was a part of the planning.

"Well we sure as shit can't stay here much longer," he said thoughtfully. "Local law is onto us."

"The entire state of Texas is onto us," I laughed, passing him back the bottle. "Where are we gonna go next? And when?"

"I've got Clay in town right now scouting the bank. He's the only one who's kept his nose clean since we've been here, and there aren't any dodgers out on him in this part of the world. He should be able to get us the info we need, then we hit it hard and ride harder. I'm thinking north."

"Hey hey it's not my fault I had to kill that kid!" I said defensively, "he drew on me."

He wasn't really a kid. He was nineteen or so and recognized me, so deciding he wanted to make a name for himself he drew on me. He wanted to be the one to take down the famous Jackson Margrave.

Yea, I was a famous gunslinger, well, not too famous anyhow. I doubt they knew my name back east or up north of here. The fastest this side of the Mississippi though, of that I was sure. But as I said, Johnny was smart, so I was only really known for the gunslinging part, not many of my criminal accolades really made it public. There were a few low reward dodgers out on me, but those were from Kansas and Missouri for all but petty crimes, and I hadn't been there in almost five years so I figured I was safe from those.

"I know, I know," Johnny said with a grin. He was about forty years old. More of a father to me than a gang leader in my humble opinion, but my father wasn't much to write about either so I'm not sure that's saying much. "Way I see it, we're gonna hit the bank in about three weeks, and we don't have the supplies to last us that long, so we gotta get that sorted out before we start worrying about the big one."

"Is it really going to be the big one?" I asked skeptically, "it's a small town bank. Do we think it's gonna have enough in it to get us clean from here and support us while we lie low? The last one sure as hell didn't. That's why we're in this mess Johnny."

"You questioning my plan son?" He asked, surprised at my doubt, "I've never known you to doubt me."

"Not doubting, Johnny," I cleared, holding my hands up in defense. "You know I'll ride with you anywhere for anything. I'm just making sure you've thought this out."

"I have. So just get us some supplies, and we'll lie low for a few weeks, hit the bank, then get the hell gone from here."

"Yea I can do that Johnny. I'll be back in a few days and with a wagon of supplies," I promised, getting up to get a move on.

"And Jack," he called after me as I made it to the flap on his tent. "Don't kill anyone unless you have to."

"You know I don't like killin' none anyhow," I said sincerely. "I'll get it done."

**

I was sitting in the Wild Hog saloon in town, nursing on a beer trying to plan out how I was going to get the supplies. I figured I could either rob the store and get them directly, rob someone and pay for the goods, or my favorite option, one that usually worked the best, was to just rob the freight wagon while it was in transit. That one worked the best, but it was usually hard to figure out when the wagons would be through and which way they'd come from.

I had Pardeen and Preacher with me, since no matter which way I went about it, I'd likely need another gun or two, and well, because I liked them the best out of the gang. It didn't hurt that they'd also barely been in trouble since being here, just a bar fight a piece. I wasn't wanted for killing the kid either. Everyone saw what happened and it was labeled as self defense and I was cleared of any wrongdoing within five minutes of drawing my gun.

"Hey Jack," Preacher greeted as he slid into a chair at the table Pardeen and I were occupying. "Got some news."

"Clear or Muddy?" I asked, using the code we came up with to ask if we could talk about what someone wanted to talk about in public or if it was something that needed to be said in private so someone didn't overhear.

"Muddy," he stated plainly. "And it's time sensitive."

Without saying anything else we all tossed back our drinks and made our way to the exit, hitting the dirt street and making our way across to our horses that were hitched on the opposite side and made our way out of town back to our camp. It wasn't the main camp, as we never stayed at the main camp while we were out on any little jobs, since any attention we gained could lead back to the gang.

"What've you got?" I asked as we cleared the last building heading out of town.

"Take a look for yourself," Pardeen grinned as he handed me a newspaper.

'Wyoming cattle boom: many ranchers in the Laramie range are urgently searching for cowboys to keep up with their increased heard numbers...'

"Why the hell do I care about a Wyoming cattle boom?"

"Not that dumbass," he laughed. "Look below it."

'Eagle Plains Fourth of July Party: the town of Eagle Plains is proud to announce its fifth annual Fourth of July Party this year. They plan on having a much larger turnout than any year prior, and in turn have enlisted the help of Frank Guthrie, the owner of Guthrie Supply, to help supply the event. Mr. Guthrie will be sending two wagons full of supplies to Eagle Plains two days ahead of the usual Friday trip to help with this event...'

"Well hell boys, there's our supplies right there," I said with a wide grin. "Pardeen you're a genius. And to think I didn't even think you could read!"

"Asshole," he retorted, though his laughter betrayed any annoyance at the statement.

"Let's get somewhere in between here and Eagle Plains. We can ambush the wagon train somewhere in there," I said, formulating a plan in my head. "Why the hell do they put this stuff in the paper anyways? It's like they're asking to get robbed..."

**

We got lucky. Real lucky. Not lucky in the sense that it could have went bad, but lucky as to what they were carrying. Not only was it everything we needed to support our gang for at least a month, but they were carrying two thousand dollars in cash with them for some reason, so we also had some funds to contribute.

The job itself was a cakewalk. Each wagon had a shotgun guard but there were no outriders, and stupidly, the drivers weren't even armed. Damn people must have wanted us to rob them.

I'd robbed stage coaches, trains, banks, freight wagons, you name it, I've robbed it. This job had to have been the easiest one I'd ever pulled. The three of us were masked, just casually waiting along the trail just around a curve so they couldn't see us. We had our revolvers drawn and when they saw us, they did the smart thing and just stopped, throwing their hands up and giving up, just like that.

True to my own moral code, they didn't put up a fight so we didn't harm them. We just trussed them up and left them on the road. Either someone would find them, or they'd work themselves back to back and free themselves. Either way, we'd have plenty of time to get gone.

I didn't like to hurt innocent people. Sure I was a bad man. I'd lost count of how many men I'd killed, though all but a few of them were actively trying to kill me at the time, so that's how I justified it to myself. I'd been in gun fights with just me and another guy, and I'd been in gunfights with the entire gang where we were outnumbered and outgunned three to one. Regardless of that, I still didn't harm innocent people.

Another lucky thing is that the road was muddy and well traveled, with various wagons leaving the road at multiple places, so it was near impossible to track us after we rolled away.

**

"Hell son, ya did it!" Johnny called as we rolled into camp with two new wagons, "we're set for a month at least!"

"And there was cash," I called back as I halted the team and set the brake on the wagon then handed him a wad of cash. "There was two grand so here's a grand for the camp funds."

Any job we did as individuals or smalls groups we split a half amongst those involved and gave a half to the camp. Currently the camp funds were exactly two dollars short of a five dollar bill, so the thousand dollars we just added would go a long way.

"Take three or four good mounts from the team and turn the rest of them loose, then go drop the wagons somewhere they can't be tracked to here. We're going to use most of this before we move again, and we'll be able to fit what's left in our own wagons," Johnny ordered. "Oh and Jack, come with me, we've got the plan."

"Wilkins, Tom, Lee, get on that," I said as I turned to follow Johnny to his tent.

When we got to the tent Clay was already there, and the three of us went over the plan for the bank. It was definitely a good one. Clay had found out there would be a big shipment of cash coming in by railroad in three weeks. Mostly for payroll for the railroad workers themselves, but also cash to pay off the local land owners to allow the railroad to extend through their land. All in all there would be about a hundred thousand coming in, on top of what was already in the bank.

"Wouldn't we just want to rob the train?" I asked after the plan was all laid out. I didn't know which was better one way or the other but I figured I'd at least bring it up.

"I thought about that too," Clay said. "Trains are definitely easier if you can get them stopped, but this time around, there'd be more bloodshed with the train than with the bank since the cash transport, especially one of that size, will have an armed escort. The bank won't since they think it's safe because, well, it's a bank."

"Yea that's fair," I allowed. "Do we need to do anything to set it up?"

"Nah. I've got what little needs to be done handled," Johnny said. "You've had a hard few months Jack. Take some of that money you got from the freight wagons and go blow off steam for a few days. Maybe ride up to Bancroft and get hammered. Maybe get yourself a whore while you're there."

"I might just do that," I said, nodding to the two men as I made my leave from the tent.

**

~Present time~

I was really wishing I'd have gotten myself that whore right about then. I was about to die in a dirty alley without having felt the touch of a woman, even a soiled dove, in over two years.

We'd rode into town just like we did with every other job. Slow, easy, and calm as to not draw attention. We dismounted two doors down from the bank while two men held the reins of the horses. The only thing we did different this time was draw our guns just outside the bank. We figured with this much money on hand in this big of a town, we needed to get the job done quick and didn't want to dally around.

That was our downfall. If we didn't have our guns drawn, we could have aborted as soon as we saw the soldiers. As it was, they drew as started firing as soon as they saw masked men with weapons walk in. Can't say I blamed them. I was the third one in the door, and I was lucky enough to just take a shot to my shoulder, allowing me to fire off two quick rounds, killing one soldier and wounding another, before we all scrambled to the door to make our escape. I absolutely hated having to shoot at soldiers.

I hit the wood planked boardwalk and flung myself off the elevated surface down into the alley. My plan wasn't to seek cover in the alley but to get to my horse and get the hell gone, but the shooting from the bank drew in the local law, as well as some brave citizens, so as I climbed to my feet I was met with a wall of lead, luckily none of it hitting me, but it did draw me back into the alley.

So that's how I found myself hiding behind a barrel of flour trying to stuff forty-five caliber cartridges into my revolvers as fast as I could. I knew the alley wasn't a dead end, and it was only a matter of time before they came in behind me. I couldn't make a break for it though, since if I showed myself for any longer than it took to fire off a couple rounds, I'd be gunned down instantly. I wasn't going to die running away. I'd die like a true outlaw. Guns in hand with lead flying.

I was resigning myself to my fate when an explosion rocked the street before me. I had absolutely no idea what caused it, but if I had to guess a round must have gotten into the mercantile, and either ignited a barrel of gunpowder directly, or broke a lantern somewhere and spread fire which then ignited a barrel. I wouldn't have put any money on it, but I'd blown up enough powder kegs in my time to take a guess that that was what I heard.

Luckily for me, the explosion broke everyone's focus on me as they turned to look at what I presumed was a burning building since I couldn't see it from where I was. My ears were ringing but I knew that diversion would only hold their attention for a few seconds, but a few seconds was all I needed to slip away.

My own horse had likely fled when everything went down, so I was left afoot. That meant I wasn't getting out of town. What I could do though, is find a place to hide until the sun went down. There have been a few jobs I've done where I've hid right in the town until it blew over then slipped out, so I already had an idea of what I was looking for. Nobody ever checks the town. They always think the bad guys just cut and run.

I turned around and made the corner in the alley, keeping my revolver at the ready in case someone was already moving towards me. Luck was on my side again and I didn't come across anyone, so I started scanning buildings for crawl spaces that looked like I could hide in.

My shoulder wound wasn't too bad, hell it was barely bleeding anymore, so I wasn't too worried about bleeding out, that meant my focus could be on hiding and not surviving. I came up on a house that was off the street behind the bank that appeared to have a crawl space that was mainly storage, which meant there were plenty of places to hide.

I'd have liked to get further away from the scene because I knew if they were going to check buildings and houses they would work out in a circle from the bank, but beggars can't be choosers so I quickly scanned the area to make sure I wasn't seen and slipped into the crawl space, working my way towards the back and positioning myself up against the other wall and behind a few boxes to conceal myself.

Luckily, and unluckily, the alley I chose was a well traveled one which meant tracking my footsteps would be difficult at best. I was also sure I didn't leave any dirt turned up in front of where I entered so it should look like nobody had come down here in months. It was unlucky because the constant passing of people kept me on edge and wide awake, which wasn't in my favor because I knew I'd have a long night of hard traveling if I was able to make it out and could use some sleep.

I finally was able to doze off, but I would have guessed it wasn't for more than a half our, maybe forty-five minutes, but I'd take what I could get. I was already formulating a plan in my head about how I planned to meet back up with the gang, or what was left of them anyhow, when I heard two men talking as they walked by the crawlspace.