Retribution Chapter 8: It Ends Here

Once inside all appeared dire, my eyes watered from the stench, the inhabitants a motley crew, a mishmash of characters obviously under fed and of questionable hygiene. The men present spanned a wide range of ages, from teenagers to senior-home rejects. The women, none? Observing us, perplexed, dazed, waiting for an explanation. Clutching their weapons like a lost love. Nearby rooms housed livestock intensifying the smell to gag level.

“This is your gang?”

“We are who we are and don’t underestimate us, we’re lethal.”

Finding this difficult to believe continued. “My bad, you’re the man in charge. What’s your name? Ya gotta a plan?”

“Doug, we wait. Keep our heads down. They’ll get bored. Storm headed this way. They leave, and we skedaddle.”

“Sorry, got some bad news for ya. They’re not leaving. So, how many men are here?” Jesse continues.

“Last count 14.”

“Horses?”

“Nine, eleven with yours.”

“Ours?”

“Ours now!”

“Ammunition?”

“Plenty.”

“Water?” a lengthy pause. “Food?”

A heavy silence hung in the air as he appeared dehydrated and disoriented.

Finally, “So what’s your point?” Doug mumbles through chapped lips and an unkempt beard?

Pointing no where in particular, I acknowledge, “They ain’t leaving. They’re staying put. Bidding their time. Waiting for us to die of heatstroke, dehydration, boredom, or… we shoot each other.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Well said, my friend.”

Stepping back, placing his hand on his holster, “guess we’ll make a trade, you two, our freedom, we ride away.”

“Why us?”

“Seen your image on a wanted poster.”

“Poster? Let’s just take a beat. Whatever you think is about to happen, we all likely die.”

“BOSS! I see movement… a chuck wagon with a barrel of… water and several more men, like a dozen more.”

“Hey,” another yells, “some are coming in the back!”

“What the…, I told you to cover the back? Who?”

Addison, leading her horse, enters from the back.

“Who this is…girl?”

“This ‘girl’ is Addison and now we’re six.”

An unexpected round of slugs spray the building, folks cower. A slug found its mark as a body slumps to the floor. Panic. Without aiming… gunfire returned.

“STOP!” shouted Doug.

“Thirteen… Here’s a thought. You take charge of securing the site, including the rear. Now, my guys will hang out, and I'll ride out and meet them and find out what they want? Maybe they’re lost, just needing directions, willing to negotiate?” Jesse replies.

“So while I’m here, you’re out there making a deal to save your hide… meanwhile, selling us out?”

“Come with me. We’ll confront them together. You and me. If things go south, we’ll face whatever comes in the afterlife together.”

Crickets…

Can see his concern as he views movement at the ridge. Several mounting. Others… marksmen settling in, taking aim. Folks in the windows pulling back.

“Excuse me, I hate to break up this pissing contest, but I ain’t hanging out. This place stinks, literally.” Addison quickly mounts.

“What the….” Jesse exclaims.

“Gotta go!” Addison said.

“Shit. Let’s think this through.”

“Done thinking, and decided I’m not dying here, and no offense, this place, a death trap. We both know they can just wait us out or, more likely, set us on fire. Therefore, Jesse… you gotta plan?”

“Of course…:,” I lied.

“Then spill it, and mount up. We need to get it done before the weather worsens.”

Addison, not know for her patience. Every time I blink, she is ‘pulling rank’. damn she can be irritating.

“Okay, my team, find some high ground, second story, and pick a target, and watch… should I drop the flag, fire at will, but not before. Take out two of the closest to us and others farther back, at the ridge, in the pack that look tentative. Maybe put a hole in the water barrel.” And, addressing our host, “don’t you all shoot… you or your dudes until we are standing back here in this room!”

“Whaaaat, don’t shoot?”

“I swear you do, or someone in the room does. I will personally put your lights out.”

Mounting… He starts to argue…, Addison, pulling her gun, “Can I just… get it over with?”

Silence…

“Patience.”

Mid afternoon, clouds rolling in, wind whipping up, the temperature dropping, Addison and I head out, slip out the door, white flag in hand, quickly at a full gallop. Stopping, we stay in range of the building, team watching from the second story, and we slow down. Thinking, the distance, the wind, makes a successful shot near impossible.

Silence, we see movement, four now headed our way. Wondering a trap or will someone posses some authority, a decision maker. This contact is unpredictable. They approach in a tight formation, stop, maybe 10 yards away, two, move closer. Heavily armed, confident, as if they have the upper hand in control. They do.

Without hesitation, the lead approaches, states, “We’ll give ya an hour, exit the building, pile your weapons where they are visible, and then wait, hands held high. When the building is empty, wave, let us know. Jesse, by the powers bestowed on me by the regional governess, you and your bunch are under arrest. The governor awaits your return. The others we don’t give a damn about.”

“Okay… I look forward to meeting my daughter again, and I will let the folks know of your request, but honestly not sure they will comply. But, I’ll keep this short. They have guns, two-dozen men, and buku ammunition, food, heat, water source, and time and realize should you attack, half of your unit will die. So here’s a thought: you all head home, have dinner, spend the night with you families, let this storm pass, and return in the morning? And, that way, no one has to die tonight. And, in the morning, we’ll all be gone.”

They move forward, hands on their weapons. Their flag lowered. “That’s not gonna happen. It ends here.”

Jesse replies, “is that because you lack decision-making authority, or cuz you’re looking forward to spending the night in what appears to be a cold, wet evening? Or fear of disappointing the governor? Or is this all above your pay grade?”

“The bounty on you is good… dead or alive, and frankly, dead works for me.”

“So, your bounty hunters?”

“Whatever, it’s a living. Besides, we heard talk you were some… hot-shot tactician, fake news apparently.”

“Well, I a… we need to confer with the guys at the hacienda. I’m just an interloper.”

“Naw,” he adds, “You, disarm, now, and for the girl, we’re gonna make her acquaintance… and eventually the clowns in the ranch-house will do something stupid. They’ll fold and try to skedaddle, or better yet, we’ll burn them out.”

Addison leans forward… smiles… tilts her head back… pats the horse on the neck, gaposis... Their flag lowers more, as they eye Addison, attention diverted.

“Addison?”

“Yes…”

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