Nicademus: The Wild Ones

by Sienna Mynx

  “I can and I will!” the sheriff pointed his gun at Jeremiah. “Just as you stopped me from saving my boy! When they sent him through town beaten to death! It’s your fault! You and men like you!” the sheriff’s eyes watered. The accusation winded him. Jeremiah nodded.

  “It’s my fault. But you can deal with me later. First we have to save them. Cora is inside with those children. You want to give up on them too?” he asked.

  The sheriff’s torment broke him. He dropped the gun, shaking his head.

  “Go in there. All dead,” Red Sun said. He walked up with his bloody hatchet. He had spoken English for the second time. Both men looked up at him, relieved the Indian was fighting on their side.

  “Stay out here and they’re all dead!” Jeremiah reminded them both. His greatest fear was that Annabelle wouldn’t last long. Her temper would make her foolish. And Shepherd’s temper could make him deadly. “We have to decide on something now! Now, I say!”

  “Me. I go,” Red Sun said. “You,” he said and pointed at the sheriff. With a stick in his hand he drew a square and an x in the dirt. “Shoot and kill for us.”

  The sheriff nodded that he understood.

  Red Sun pointed the stick at Jeremiah and then drew another square and an x. “You. Here,” he said. Jeremiah understood the directions: they were both to take position.

  “Agreed,” the sheriff said.

  “Agreed,” Jeremiah said.

  **

  Honey was quick with the knife. The blade sliced through his cheek as slick as it would split cream. The cut was so deep it revealed the gums and teeth of the man’s jaw. Blood squirted and sprayed out of his face. Abraham, the giant, staggered back in shock. But his recovery was swift. She lunged to go for his throat, and he swung, slamming his sledgehammer sized fist into her gut. Honey doubled over and then fell backward. She landed hard. She rolled in time to miss his boot heel coming down to crush her face. She rolled again and missed the kick he aimed at her head. In doing so she lost one knife. But the other she threw and hit him in the chest. She scooted back on hands and knees expecting it to be a fatal blow. She was wrong.

  There was blood. Lot and lots of blood. He only grunted with rage and kept coming. What kind of man was he? She glanced around and saw one of his guns. But could she reach it in time? The man snatched the blade out of his chest as if it had no effect on him. He was charging toward her. She scrambled on hands and knees to the weapon and before her fingers connected with the grip, Abraham kicked her in the side so hard she was tossed like a rag doll into the side of the saloon. Honey vomited. The pain was too intense. She had known all kinds of pain in her life, but nothing that shockingly brutal.

  “I’ll kill you, bitch!” he spat a clot of blood and his words slurred, the skin to his jaw hung in a grotesque fashion as if it were peeling from his face. He was a horror, his height, his gaping wound, and the madness for murder in his eyes.

  She grabbed her side and sat with her back pressed to the building. There was no escape. She was ready to die and reunite with her babies and sweet husband in heaven. She was ready. She closed her eyes and waited for the deathblow. Lord knows she would have joined them sooner if suicide weren’t the most unforgiveable sin against God. A gun fired. She felt nothing. Is that what death felt like? Nothing? She opened her eyes expecting to see a bullet hole in her chest. The man, Abraham, was flat on his face. Behind him stood the outlaw with a smoking gun.

  Honey groaned. “You should have let him kill me.”

  He walked over and stooped before her. “How bad are you hurt?” he asked, giving her a look over. “Annabelle and Cora, the children, they need your help.”

  “A little kick to the gut never kept a girl down. Help me stand.”

  He pulled her up and she managed to get to her feet. “Sure could go for a whiskey right now.”

  “Later,” the outlaw said. He looked to the building. Honey nodded because she knew what he was thinking.

  “They took her inside. Been in there for more than ten minutes now,” Honey confirmed.

  “We got a plan, but we need to draw Shepherd out while Red Sun deals with his men inside.”

  “Right. Ms. Kitty wants us to keep Shepherd alive. Think having him die from poisoning make us less guilty than the bullet in his rotten gut. I say we kill the bastard.”

  “Trust me, I intend to,” the outlaw said. “First I need you on with us. Need cover for my plan to work. In case he comes out guns blazing. Can you manage it?”

  Honey rubbed her side and sucked down a deep breath. She exhaled slowly. “Yes. I’m okay. I can handle it.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  **

  “Where is she? Where?” Tyler Shepherd spat the words in Annabelle’s face. He looked crazed to Annabelle. This was the man they feared, all flushed and sweaty with red swollen eyes? He snarled when he spoke with spittle coating his lips. Was he foaming from the mouth like a rabid dog? Annabelle laughed in his face. He struck her. “Cora! Where the fuck is Cora?”

  “I need help!” a man begged. He dragged himself on the floor and tried to climb up a chair but it fell over. “Uncle! Uncle Shep! I’m bleeding to death here!”

  The man’s leg wound pooled a crimson lake in the form of a circle underneath him.

  “Boss? We need to take care of—”

  Shep turned and fired twice, killing the man. He turned the gun on Annabelle. “See that? That there was Mitchel, my sister’s oldest boy, a good nephew. Now if I’d do that to my kin what the fuck do you think I’d do to you?” Shepherd sneered. He wiped his hand across his brow. “So you betta answer me good on this one.” He put the muzzle of the gun underneath Annabelle’s chin. The heat from the barrel singed her skin. She yelped in pain.

  “Where’s my Cora?” he asked.

  “I’m here, Shep.” A voice spoke to their left. Annabelle couldn’t turn her head to see, the man’s arm around her throat was too tight. But she strained her vision to the right. It was Shepherd’s mean glare softening to surprise that confirmed her fear. Cora had come up from the hiding place.

  “As I live and breathe … sweet Cora-pie.” Shepherd smiled.

  Cora glanced to Annabelle and then back to Tyler Shepherd. The situation was worse than she had at first though. And the poison working through Shepherd’s system had him burning with fever and irrational thought. “Let her go,” she said in a calm voice.

  Shepherd nodded to the man and he dropped Annabelle. Immediately the young girl ran over to her. Cora hugged a clearly shaken Annabelle. “You’re okay. You’re okay, sweetie,” she reassured her. She glared at Shepherd. He wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand and in doing so pushed his hat up his head.

  “This where you run to? Away from me? Away from my luv for ya?” Shepherd wheezed. It looked like the mere act of breathing caused him pain. His skin was pale and pasty. He had dark puffy rings under his eyes, which were near bloodshot. Did his men not see how rabid he appeared? Did Shepherd not feel his insides cooking?

  “Like a farmer luvs his pig before the slaughter?” Cora asked. “You the devil, and I swore the next time I saw you I’d send you to hell. So thanks for coming.”

  Shepherd laughed. “You hear that, boys? She gon’ put me out of my misery. Like only sweet Cora’s pussy can. Best whore in the Quarter!” he declared. He glanced around the saloon. “Business still good huh, Cora?”

  The men gave a nervous laugh. Now, everyone sensed something was wrong with the way Shepherd swayed on his feet. He behaved like a man drunk on whiskey. And the killing of his nephew made it clear he wasn’t of sound mind. Cora pushed Annabelle out of her arms to the back of her. She took a step forward. “How is Daniel?”

  Shepherd arched a brow. He continued to grin. He offered her no explanation. “Doing fine up there in the Senate. Making his pa proud,” Shepherd said. He pointed the gun at Cora. “Although he and I are gonna have a talk about what he did for you. Do you know I strung up Adeline and May thinking they was
the ones to help you escape? My boy didn’t say a word. See what you did to your friends?”

  Cora closed her eyes. May was only fifteen when she left. She hated Tyler Shepherd with such passion she thought she’d lose it. Shepherd released the safety on his pistol. “You comin’ with me. You want to save this town, don’cha? Save your friends? Right? Give me my gold, and come with me. We’ll leave Nicademus together. You and me, sweet Cora-pie,” he said through clenched teeth. He staggered back. The men all exchanged worried looks. “‘cause the alternative is much worse. More death, more men riding in until this place burns to the ground. Look at me, Cora, when I’m speaking to you! Am I lying?”

  “Does it matter? Nothing you say or do will save my town,” she replied.

  Shepherd kept his eyes on Cora. But she faded, as if a dial was being turned in his head, blurring everything around him. His vision had reduced the others in the saloon to mere shadows. He felt as if he’d drop any moment.

  “Tyler Shepherd! You hear me callin’ ya! I got what you came for. Face me!” someone shouted.

  “Boss? It’s Polk. He out in front of the saloon,” Mathew said.

  Shepherd frowned. “Kill him!”

  “Cain’t. Don’t see any of our men left. And the others … well there are others on rooftops with their guns. Must be a trap of some kind.”

  Summoning his strength he raised his gun and leveled it at Cora. “Get your ass over here, bitch. Now!”

  “Ms. Kitty, don’t trust him!” Annabelle pleaded.

  “It’s okay. He won’t hurt me,” she said. “Not yet, right, Shep? You got plans for me.”

  Shepherd sneered. She walked over to him. He grabbed her by the hair and kissed her hard on the mouth. Cora didn’t fight him off. He liked that.

  “Boss, what do you want to do?” Mathew said from the window.

  “You still smell sweet,” he groaned against her ear.

  “Show mercy,” Cora pleaded as he forced her to the door.

  “I don’t know how. Remember!” he seethed. Together they breeched the front of the saloon. He had his gun to Cora’s side and his arm around her neck.

  “Face me man to man!” Jeremiah said.

  He walked Cora out to the edge of the saloon porch. He held her like a human shield. “You gots yer’self a deal, boy. Only problem is, we one man short!” he laughed.

  **

  Matthew turned his gun on Annabelle who now stood in the saloon with two other men, weaponless. She backed away.

  “It’s a set up out there isn’t it?” he asked her. She glanced around and then back to him. She didn’t trust his cool manner. “If I go out there, a bullet will be in me before I draw. Won’t it? Because the gold is what they want to protect, and you, you know the outlaw. You know where the gold is. Don’cha?”

  Annabelle never took her eyes off the snake before her. Even if she ran he’d catch her. They were too close. She took a cautious step back. He took a step forward.

  “Where’s the gold? I know you know where it at. C’mon, gal. Tell me and we won’t have no trouble,” he said, taking a more threatening step toward her. He wanted a fight. She was going to give him one like he’d never seen. She ran for the back room and through the doors to the kitchen. He was hot on her trail. He didn’t use his gun on her. No, he wanted to chase her, hunt her, and scare her crazy enough to give him what he wanted. She ran, but he found a way to cut off her escape. She was backed over to the stove.

  “Just tell me what I want to hear. Where is the outlaw keeping the gold?” He asked while panting for breath. He was fatter around the middle than the other men. His beard and face looked dirty. “Don’t be scared now—” He gurgled on the rest of his words. His eyes stretched and his mouth opened wide in an O. Annabelle stared at him curiously. It was as if lightening was cutting through him. He dropped to his knees and gasped down his final breath before falling flat and dead to his face––with a hatchet buried in the back of his skull.

  “Red Sun,” she said. She raced into his arms. He hugged her tightly. Never in her life had she been so happy. He put his finger to her lips in a warning. She let him go. He removed the hatchet from the back of the man’s skull. Annabelle followed his instructions.

  **

  Shepherd glanced around. He didn’t see any of his men standing. Not a one. How was that possible? He had twenty fucking gunslingers riding with him. Where the fuck were they? When two of his boys came out of the saloon they raised their guns immediately. “Well I’ll be damned!”

  He sucked down a breath and coughed when the air didn’t completely fill his lungs. He felt weak enough to drop.

  “Not feeling well?” she asked.

  “Shut up,” he wheezed. But his hold around her neck slipped. He couldn’t manage to stand and hold on to her at the same time. He staggered back. When he lifted his gaze the town spun with a dizzying relentlessness.

  “Boss? Get up! What’s wrong?” one of his men said.

  Get up? Was he on the ground? He realized he had dropped to his knees. He tried to stand but again the weakness made his attempt clumsy.

  “Boss!”

  “Stay back!” he shouted. He raised the gun. Cora stepped toward him. He strained to see her but a haze covered his vision. He was on the verge of passing out. Cora knelt to his level. Why didn’t she fear his gun? And then he realized it wasn’t in his hand. It was in hers. His men held their guns on her, unsure of what to do. No. No. They weren’t holding guns anymore. The townspeople were out of their hiding spaces. Several guns were on his men, and the boys had to drop their weapons in surrender. Shepherd tried to speak to them to kill her. To get him out of the town so he could see a doctor, but the effort exhausted him. It was hard enough to remain conscious.

  “Fever, headache, and you going blind. Does your throat hurt too?” she asked in a caring voice. He glanced back to Cora with questioning eyes. He wasn’t ready to go down. Not yet. He found his voice. Looked out at the townspeople staring at him. They should kill him. He saw in their eyes they wanted to. But none of them made a move.

  “You’re dying, Shep,” Cora told him. “The kind of death fitting for a piece of shit like you.”

  He chuckled. “Dying. I’m not fucking dying!”

  A wicked, almost evil smile curled over Cora’s lips. It must be the fever because he thought she was growing fangs. He recoiled in fear. And he never recoiled in fear. He scooted back away from her. He pointed at the townspeople. “Listen up, Nicademus! You only got one way out of this. Surrender. Because when the marshals ride in you want to be on my good side. Do you hear me? Think about it! There is no winning this fight! None!” he said and glanced up to Cora who held a gun on him.

  “What have you done?” he asked. “Damn it, Cora! What did she give me?”

  “I’ve given you a taste of your own medicine,” she smiled, the last words she said to him before he lost consciousness.

  Jeremiah holstered his gun. He stood there with the other townspeople waiting. Ms. Kitty held a gun on Tyler Shepherd. The man was evidently in pain. Every one of them wanted to kill him. But no one made a move. Because watching Tyler Shepherd vomit, gag, whimper and piss his pants as the poison took over his body and cooked his insides was a more fitting end. Still Cora held the gun on him. Red Sun and Annabelle came out of the saloon. He saw Red Sun’s lips moving. He knew he was speaking to Cora but he couldn’t hear. The men that had been captured during the raid were tied up. Out of the twenty or so that rode in on them, only five remained alive. The others were either dead or had retreated.

  Annabelle’s eyes connected with Jeremiah’s. She opened her mouth to speak and paused. Her head turned. So did Jeremiah’s. Men on horses rode in. There was a flag being waved at the front. Jeremiah put his hand on his gun and froze. The townspeople scattered from the street to make way.

  The marshal out of Tulsa and two other white men rode in with the black regiment of the 9th Calvary.

  “Down! Everyone down!” the marshal on
the horse shouted. People began to drop to their knees. They put their hands on their heads. Several men came down from their horses and turned their guns to Ms. Kitty.

  “Down! Now, Miss!” one soldier said. She looked up. Red Sun took a step forward and the other men swung their guns in his direction. Annabelle went to her knees first. Ms. Kitty dropped the gun and went to her knees. Red Sun was the last of the townspeople to comply.

  “Where’s the sheriff?” the marshal asked the man next to him. He then paused and looked at Jeremiah. He glanced at another of his men and pointed to him. When the soldiers approached him he knew his fate. He was brought to his feet and handcuffed. They led him away. He glanced back at Annabelle who stared at him from the front of the saloon. He did his best to smile. She was alive. They’d done it. They’d survived.

  9.

  Annabelle walked the floor. She chewed on her nail and paced. Three days of being confined to a cell with her and the girls was weighing heavy on her. There were so many unanswered questions. Had Tyler Shepherd died from the poison? Was the sheriff alive? Where did they take Red Sun and Jeremiah? And more importantly, did her letter get delivered in time?

  “Ms. Kitty?”

  She glanced up from her bench. The girls became silent. The man was tall, and regal in his uniform. He had pale skin and a mustache that curled at the tips. His grey eyes were hard as granite. They bore down on her. “Your name is Ms. Kitty right?”

  “Yes, sir,” she stood.

  “Open up,” he ordered the jailer.

  The door was opened and the man stepped back. Cora glanced to the girls. Honey kept her head down whenever the lawmen came close. But even she was looking at Cora with concern. She gave the girls a reassuring smile and walked out of the cell.

  “Come with me,” the marshal said.

  Cora hadn’t changed or bathed in three days. She looked a sight. Besides the bathroom breaks given to them, all the girls were near crazy from confinement. And they only received a meal at the end of the day.