“I tied the part of his head back on,” I explained.
“Roberts got him right on the forehead? Man, at least it was quick. Come on, say your goodbyes, kid, we’ve gotta go.” Frank stopped a moment by Dick’s head, crossed himself even though he wasn’t a religious man, and ran toward the corral.
I bowed over Dick like I was praying for his soul. “You need to make a run for it, or you’re gonna have to play dead.”
“Shit. What if they bury me? What then?”
I’d not thought of that. “Uhh...I’ll come back once it’s safe and pull you out if that happens.”
“I could run out of air by the time you get back here.”
“I’ll be back before that. I promise. But if you run now, you’ll be runnin’ forever, and they’ll be on your ass. And not just Dolan’s freak show, the Regulators, too.”
I looked at the scene. There wasn’t enough blood to sell the story. With a curse, I pulled my knife and cut my wrist and prayed enough blood hit the ground to be believable before my wound healed.
“What are you―”
“Shh!” I said, watching blood pool under his head from my arm. Once it closed, there wasn’t a lot of blood on the ground and bandana, but it was going to have to do. Pulling Dick’s extra bandana, I tied it around his head to secure the first one, then sat his head back down into the pool of blood I’d created.
“Billy, we got soldiers comin’!” Frank Coe shouted down at me.
“Damn it all to hell,” I muttered. “I gotta go.”
“Billy...” Dick said.
“I’ll come back for you.”
“And if I get found out before that?”
“Then you fuckin’ run for it and kill a few of them sons of bitches while you’re at it. You hear me? No judgment here.”
“I can’t let them learn―” Dick started to say.
“If it’s your life or theirs, you are more important, you hear me?”
“Says who?”
“I do, damn it, so that’s the end of it. Play dead, Dick.” I watched him reluctantly close his eyes and slack the muscles of his face. “Good boy. Now stay, I’ll be back.”
“You wish I should sit and fetch, too?”
I grinned. He was joking, which was a good sign that he might listen to me and not end up dead for real. “Only if you’re a good boy.” I stood and saw MacNab driving the government wagon Blazer appeared to be lending us. I bent to pick up Dick’s hat. “I’ll hold onto this for ya.”
“You best have a plan,” he muttered, eyes open again and fixed tight on me.
I stared back and stayed low so no one could see my lips move. “Nope. But I will by the time I’m back.”
“Don’t you be late.”
“You know how I feel about that. See you soon. Good luck.” Standing, I turned and ran away from one of the best men I’d ever known, leaving him to possibly be buried alive or worse, die for real. Yeah, I was a great friend. Just great.
March, 1949
I hated being late so much so that without realizing it, I’d pressed down on the gas pedal of my car more than I should’ve on Highway 70. It was quarter after eleven o’clock at night on the twenty-ninth, and I’d just crossed over into Doña Ana County on my way to see the sheriff of Las Cruces.
I’d wanted to be here twelve hours previous, but getting the right tires for my car had proved to be a pain in the ass. God bless Rose or I’d still be in that town. Thankfully, her uncle ran a garage and was able to get the tires I needed from Roswell and on my car by the time they closed at seven. By then, Miss Lois had demanded I eat before I leave. I used this chance to call my partner again and was told when he’d arrive in Albuquerque.
Because of all this delay, I’d not pulled out of town until half past nine o’clock at night. With Las Cruces being a two-hour drive from Carrizozo, I was running out of time to make the deadline to check in at the hotel.
Before I could calm down enough to lay off the gas, police lights lit up behind me, along with a siren I barely heard over my blaring radio.
“Son of a bitch!” I said, checking my speed. “Aw, hell.” It was at one hundred miles an hour. I was in a lot of trouble.
Pulling over, I turned the radio off, rolled my window down, and though I knew they’d prefer I turned the car off, I wasn’t about to do that. No way in hell. The moon might not be up, but that didn’t mean Scáthach’s men behaved themselves in human form.
One cop approached my side as well as another at the passenger side of the car. The one on my side leaned down and looked at me. His name tag said, “FLORES.” “Evening, sir. Turn off the vehicle and hand over your license, registration, and proof of insurance.”
“Of course,” I said as the other officer tapped on the closed window of my passenger side. “I’m going to open my glove compartment and get it for you and open the window for your partner. Okay?”
Flores nodded, and I did as I said, noticing the name on the second officer’s chest read, “LUCERO.” The minute I did, he spoke to me.
“Turn your car off, sir.”
“No can do.”
Without hesitation, Lucero pulled his gun on me.
“Are you kiddin’ me?” I said.
Lucero did not look amused. “Turn off the car!”
“No, I will not,” I said calmly as I handed my items to Flores. “The starter is havin’ some trouble, and I do not want to get stuck out here or have y’all drive me into town. And put that damn gun away before you do somethin’ stupid, Lucero.”
“Excuse me?” Lucero and Flores said at the same time.
Ignoring them, I said, “I’m goin’ to reach into my coat pocket for my Federal ID. All right?”
“Your what?” Lucero said.
I rolled my eyes and took a chance at a bullet by reaching into my jacket pocket instead of answering his stupid question.
This prompted Flores to pull his gun on me as well. “Slowly!”
I did as he ordered and carefully pulled out my credentials. “Federal ID, as in, I’m FBI.” I handed the bi-fold to Flores.
Keeping his gun on me, Flores said, “Open it so I can see.”
“Seriously?” I sighed in disgust and flipped it open to show the ID and badge. “Happy?”
Reading it, Flores put his gun away and took it from me. “I have to verify this.”
“Well, no kiddin’. I’ll wait, but if you could make it quick, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Stay on him,” Flores said, and went back to the police car.
After a moment of nothing but the sound of my engine purring, Lucero said, “Do you know how fast you were going, sir?”
“It’s Agent, and I don’t know, I’m guessin’ really fast?” I replied, my sarcasm thick.
“You think you’re funny, but you’re not,” Lucero said. “You were going ninety-nine miles an hour accordin’ to our brand-new radar detectin’ machine.”
“How did you all get one of those all the way out here?” I asked, mildly impressed.
“Our sheriff has friends in Santa Fe,” Lucero bragged.
“Would that be Sheriff Apodaca?”
The officer seemed surprised. “Yes. How’d you know that?”
“I research the cities I’m goin’ to be stayin’ in and alert them when I’m in town.”
“I see,” was all he said. Awkward silence again slid into place and lingered just long enough for me to start whistling, “Turkey in The Straw,” prompting him to interrupt me.
“Fed, huh?” Lucero said. “If so, what you doin’ out here?”
“Heading to Las Cruces,” I said, being vague and annoying on purpose because I could be, and because he still had his damn gun on me like I was some criminal. Not that it would kill me, but it could damage my coat or my car and then I’d be mad.
“For what?” he prodded.
“Stuff,” I replied curtly.
Now he knew I was being rude just for the sake of it, and his face contorted, showing his
irritation. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s classified,” I finally said. “Way above your pay-grade.”
“Oh, is that so? Well, let me tell you, wannabe fed-boy, I can—”
“Cool it, Vincent,” Flores said to his partner as he approached my car door. “Sorry to detain you, Agent Kidwell. No way we coulda known seein’ as your car isn’t government issued.”
Actually, it was, just not his government, but I wasn’t going to clarify. “That’s all right. Just doin’ your job, I know the drill.”
Flores handed me back all my items. “Why the hurry, if you don’t mind me askin’?”
“Says it’s classified,” Lucero said, his bitter sarcasm not hidden in the least.
Deciding to mess with him, I said, “No, I told you the reason I was going to be in town was classified. I’m in a hurry because after midnight, the check-in desk will be closed, and I’m not a fan of sleepin’ in my car, Officer Lucero,” I said, pronouncing his last name wrong on purpose.
“It’s Lu-sare-oh,” he corrected me.
“Where are you stayin’?” Flores asked.
“The Campbell Hotel,” I replied.
Flores nodded. “Are you just passin’ through?”
I set the items on the passenger seat. “Yep, just stayin’ the one night in Las Cruces and then I’ll be on my way to Albuquerque later tomorrow if all goes as planned.”
Flores nodded. “All right then. Sorry to keep you. Maybe next time try to go a bit slower through here, all right? This beauty of a machine can handle the speed, but you’re only human, and accidents can happen on this windin’ road.”
I grinned at his “only human” comment and placed my credentials back inside my jacket pocket. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Thank you. In fact, we’ll radio dispatch and have them call the Campbell and alert them that you’re on your way, so you can take it at the speed limit.”
“I appreciate it,” I told him, and I did.
“Of course, please keep in mind though that while you’re in the city, we ask that you not overstep your bounds. Just because you’re FBI doesn’t put you outside the law, you hear me?”
I raised an eyebrow at his snarky tone. “Uh, yeah. I hear you. Can I go now?”
“Yes, but—”
“Great, thanks so much!”
Then, without waiting for another word from them, I put the car into drive, drove off, and because I’d been a smartass, kept it at the speed limit...just in case.
April, 1878
On our journey to Fort Stanton, the assistant surgeon of the fort came riding by with two guards. Seems he’d received a telegraph from Blazer’s Mill asking for medical assistance. Yet, before he could continue on, we had him look at our wounded.
Using the end of the wagon like an operating table, we had Middleton lay out to be looked at. Soon his blood covered a good portion of the wagon as well as the doctor himself.
Dr. Appel was doing all he could to save Middleton from the bullet to his chest, but I knew we were going to lose him, and I was torn. I should try and help save John, but every moment I waited for an opportunity to get past Appel, Dick was likely in a coffin, losing air. I had to make a decision and soon. If it came down to one life or the other, I would have to choose. I desperately didn’t want that job.
I glanced at the pocket watch Tunstall had given me. It was getting late. How much time did Dick have left? Supernatural or cursed, he could still die without air. Would he save his own life and risk others seeing him rise from the ground? No. Dick would die first. He’d take his secrets to the other side. That’s the kind of man he was. Which pissed me off.
“You all right? You’re fidgetin’ like a two-year old in church,” Frank said, coming to stand next to me.
I looked at him and blew out the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. “I healed Colonel’s eyes, did you know that? I think I can heal people, too...if I could get to Middleton...”
John screamed, cutting me off.
Dr. Appel cursed. “Hold still or the bullet near your heart could move and puncture it.”
“You can’t help Middleton, Billy. You’ll risk too much. You can’t expose your gifts in front of Appel or the new Regulators who don’t know everythin’.”
“Curse, not gift,” I corrected him.
Frank rolled his eyes at me. “Depends on your view, Billy.”
“I couldn’t save Dick,” I said, and I felt the emotion of that statement tighten my chest. I was talking of the night Brewer first changed, but Frank didn’t need to know that.
Frank placed a hand on my shoulder. “Kid, you can’t carry that weight, too.”
I walked away, the energy of the lives I carried were bouncing about inside of me like jumping beans, and I needed to be moving. “Then why does it feel like―”
“I’m losin’ him!” Appel said.
Without a second thought, I said to Frank, “Follow my lead.”
I rushed to the wagon, then, as Appel turned away to get another instrument, I bumped him, causing him to drop the item he’d fetched from his bag.
“Kid, you can’t help!” Frank said, stepping in between the doctor and me, blocking Appel’s view with his wide chest and tall form. He placed a hand on me like he would pull me back when in truth he was holding me steadily in place.
“They can’t take another one of us today,” I said as I laid my hand over John’s heart. “What’s mine is yours,” I whispered and willed only half of the energy I’d use to heal one of Colonel’s eyes into him since I couldn’t fully heal him in present company. However, I could help just enough to give John a fighting chance.
I felt it flow out of me and into John just before the furious doctor stepped around to take my other arm and “assisted” Frank in pulling me away.
“Interfere with me again, and I’ll kill you!” Appel yelled, pointing his gun at me with his free hand. “Now move away from here!”
With a nod, Frank pulled me to my horse and handed me a handkerchief from his pocket, quietly saying, “Clean your hands off, Billy.”
I could see he was mad, so I did as he asked with my mouth shut. Once they were clean, I handed it back to him.
He yanked it from my hands and smacked me with it, whispering in a gruff voice, “Do you want to be discovered? We can’t get justice for Tunstall without you. Damn it all to hell!” He walked away from me but was back in a minute or two, being sure to whisper at a level he knew only I would hear. “Were you able to―?”
“I don’t know. I tried something new, I only used half a push of energy. I’m hopin’ it’s enough to save him if the doc keeps workin’.”
“That’s all I can do,” Appel said. “Get him to a hospital.”
George stepped forward. “Doctor, I want you to look at my hand and see what’s the matter with it.”
Appel examined George’s hand, who did his best not to cringe in pain each time the assistant surgeon touched it. “George, you’ve got a very bad hand. The bones are all shot to pieces.” Pulling his kit toward him, Appel did a small procedure on the bones as we all stood and watched. Once he was done, he said, “You need to go to a hospital too or you could lose that hand. I can try to get you into the one at Fort Stanton. I may not be able to do it, but I’ll try.”
“Now, Doc,” George said, his voice strained but steady, “don’t you worry about that because I’m not goin’ to that hospital.”
Appel handed George a roll of gauze. “Then I’ll tell you what to do and you must do it quickly. Get a bottle of carbolic acid, then dilute it, and keep the hand saturated with it.”
“Where can I get that?” George asked.
“Fort Stanton is about the only place I know of,” Appel told him. “But I can send it to you in Lincoln.”
Evidently becoming distraught, George said, “No, that’s worse yet.”
Seeing that the doctor was at his wit’s end, I stepped up. “Send it to Isaac Ellis’s place in Lin
coln. I’ll get it for George.”
Appel nodded. “I’ll have it there tomorrow evenin’, I promise.”
Quickly, he loaded up his things, mounted his horse, and rode off with his two companions toward Blazer’s Mill. Once they were out of sight, I pulled George to the side.
“I can heal what he did for the bones in your hand. I have enough energy in me to do that. I can’t regrow your finger, but I can solidify what he did so you hurt less.”
“Billy, ya can’t go wastin’ your energy on me.”
“It’s going to be thirty-six hours without medical aid. That’s a lot of time your hand doesn’t have. Do you really want to take a chance that you need to go to Fort Stanton?”
He hemmed and hawed while I fetched the gauze and came back with Frank behind me.
“Frank, lay your right hand out.” When he did, I instructed George to lay his on top of it. Once he’d done this, I lay mine on top of his and urged energy through my hand, down into his. George moaned in pain as bones moved a bit and clicked into place, mending as best as they could without me using too much of my power.
“That’s all I can do,” I told them. “Frank, help me wrap his hand so the blood doesn’t start flowing again and we hold the work Doc and I did as steady as possible.”
Once George was set, we gathered to discuss our next move.
“Whoever doesn’t have an open warrant on them, take Middleton to Fort Stanton,” MacNab said. “Billy, you and Scroggins head to Lincoln to get the acid when it arrives. We’ll be in San Patricio.”
“Sure thing,” I said, saddling up on Colonel. “Let’s get moving.”
A bit confused at the quick decision and my readiness to leave, Scroggins agreed without thinking it out and got on his horse. Quickly, we rode off in the direction of Lincoln, but as soon as we were too far away for riding back to make any sense, I pulled us to a halt.
“Okay, I need you to ride off to Lincoln and let Uncle Ike know what’s coming and why. I’m gonna try and go get Brewer’s horse. He loved Mattie. I need to get her so no one else gets their hands on her, like Dolan. Plus, he had a nice saddle Tunstall gave him. Another thing we wouldn’t want his murderer to have.”
The Curse of Billy the Kid: Untold Legends Volume One Page 31