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What was he thinking? Jessie educated, come-on… creative, once a teacher by trade, now leading our Scout Team. (Although not by choice.) Average looking guy, 5 foot 10, brown hair, brown eyes, southpaw, physically fit, capable of well-reasoned thinking, mostly. Independent, a bit of a loner. Occasionally, I wondered if he has a death wish. Thoughts buried. Moody, as if carrying a weight, a sadness and, like all of us, a history unwilling to share. Looks like a family affair. The cause of this unhappiness lurking somewhere in the background. Just a hunch.
Suspected something was up when I overheard him ask the stable hand to keep his horse saddled. He would be back later. And he was, just before dusk. Thought he was sneaking out. Amateur move. It didn’t take a genius to predict a likely destination. From my vantage point, easy enough to observe his moves. The only question, why. But regardless, trouble was his superpower. And because none of us wanted to be promoted, figured we needed to cover his keister.
I’m certainly not opposed to trouble. Learned years ago, I rarely needed to seek it out, always some yahoo ready, like a peacock, flaunting their manliness. They underestimated me, and there is a trail of bodies left behind, no longer able to brag about macho exploits. Dad taught me how to handle men who thought I was a fragile flower and how to turn away unwanted attention. And how to end a relationship. My ex slapped me once. Now he’s gone missing.
So we follow. Saw him enter the town, ambling along, eyes down, slumped over, looking beaten down by time, a lone wolf.
We halted outside the settlement to plan. Never visited, just one of many collectives filled with used and users. From our community they existed, visible, an indistinguishable overlay of noise, except gun fire. This will be our first interaction. The plan. I appear the least threatening. The easiest to be approached and enticing. Petite, female, alone, a soft target.
“I’ll enter and move toward where there seems to be activity, lights, voices and several horses being attended to, fed and watered.”
“Cody and Joshua, once you identify the structure that I go into, look for a back entrance and be alert. You may need to bail us out.”
“Frank, after I enter the town, follow and note issues we may encounter when we exit. If there are indeed attendees caring for horses, chat them up, wait cause when I come out with Jessie in tow, we may leave in a rush, and if followed, create a diversion, hopefully shooting no one.”
“Brett, (pointing) locate a position on the ridge, offering a view of the street. If this all goes sideways, we’ll likely need cover.”
“Good luck.”
Undid the top two buttons, exposing what men couldn’t resist, a look. A distraction. Few sources of light are available along the street, casting eerie shadows. Chap sitting close to an open workshop, a lantern nearby, winged bugs buzzing about, either a worker or guard? Whatever, smiled. Once by, he stood up, watching my progress, stepped onto the street, rifle in hand.
Reached the end of the street, two attendants jumped up, smiled, and offered to take care of my steed, distracted, and any other needs. Again, a toothy smile, “no charge.”
“Later, boys.” Inquired where I can find a meal. Jessie must be nearby. I see his horse as they directed me toward an aged, rundown structure with a distinctive, manly odor clouding the entrance. Enter the building, stop to adjust myself, and listen, trying to get a sense of what is happening, interactions in the room lowbrow, number of occupants, then hear and realize Jessie is in trouble. Voices on my right upon entering. I have a view of the entire area. Perhaps a dozen men sitting in groups. Candles struggling to illuminate patches of floor scattered about an unlit room.
I hear, “Interlock your fingers and place your hands behind your head and shut up.” More conversations, mumbled.
Jessie’s voice, “Okay, so you seem convinced I’m the one, and there’s not much I can say to convince you otherwise. So… is your goal to shoot me where I stand?”
Then another, “Shoot you where you stand, that’s ironic, no, we’ll vote, then I’ll shoot you. We’re not executioners, we’re law-abiding citizens.”
Again, “Everyone in here that heard his BS and thinks he’s innocent raise your right hand. Hum, seems they all think you're a liar.”
Stepping forward into the light, “I’d like to hear more. Heard a different version. Can I vote?”
More banter when Cody and Joshua join the confrontation, stepping into the room. Suggesting everyone relax, eat, drink, and not get involved, and “keep your hands on the table.”
Attention now divided between two dudes, or the recent appearance of a well-formed, soft-spoken woman.
Scowling at me, “Listen, you need to butt out, none of your…” big brother, distracted by the movement, shifting focus, bellowed.
Unable to complete his sentence before Addison drew, cocked, and finished the sentence, “…business,” demanding he stand-down.
Addressing Jessie, “So, having a bad day?” I ask, “Your lucky day? Now get your pistol and put it back in you back holster. Tip the nice lady. Then exit through the front door where another awaits with horses readied for our exit,” and to everyone listen, “if someone should stick their head out the door before we’re gone, our other friend will greet you with a scattergun. Clear? Oh, and dude, be sure to limp. It was so realistic.”
Jessie collects his SOB. moves toward the doors, while dropping a silver round in its place, Mitch distracted. I smile, stroke my neck, tilt my head back, and add, “Oh, bro, holster your weapon. If you think I won’t drop you where you stand and then Mitch before you hit the ground, you’re absolutely mistaken.”
Slipping back, “Good-day, gentleman.”
Cody, Joshua slipping out the back. We hustle out, grab, and mount our horses, flip the attendees another round, Frank empties a barrel above the entrance, spurred our rides, canter a step, then push to a gallop. Cody and Joshua appear from an alley. Shit. There in the middle of the street, the guard, please run, move, get out of the way. I hear a single gunshot echoing off the buildings. A lantern to the left flips, ignites, flames ablaze. The guard spins, surprised, drops his rifle, hands up. We exit, back to safety. Home. Strange, never thought of it as a home.
Horses bedded for the night.
Jessie steps aside, vomits, shock setting in, trying to catch his breath.
Stands, walks away with a card in hand.
I just shake my head as we watch. Not a word.
What was on the card? There is always tomorrow.
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