“Let’s head over there,” Bonnie said, pointing to a red rock formation nearby. “We can wait out the heat of the day and keep going when the sun sets behind that ridge.” I followed her gaze, seeing the line of mountains to the west. I was relieved to have a break. My back was aching by the time we stopped the horses in the shade. It wasn’t much cooler, but at least my skin was no longer burning.
“Do you know anything about Bonnie Parker?” she asked Harry as we dismounted. He shook his head.
“Well, the only thing that would get me to stop cryin’ was when I heard stories about her. When things got scary or hard, or we didn’t have enough to eat, he’d tell me, ‘Be my Bonnie girl,’ and it worked. I’d buck up and deal with whatever was happenin’. Eventually, that became my name,” she said.
We neared the rock formation. I felt like I needed to say something, after she’d given us a kernel of her history, but words wouldn’t come. She’d said ‘the man who raised her’ instead of ‘father.’ I leaned against the rocks, pretending to be focused more on tying my boots than the story of her namesake.
“But what happened to Bonnie Parker?” Harry asked. Could he never be satisfied?
“She lived a long time ago, when the world was almost as bad as it is now. No one had anythin’ and it was hard to survive. They called it the ‘Great Depression.’” She snorted derisively, pausing to stretch out her back. “Like anything could be as depressing as this shithole.”
“Tell me more. Please?”
“Harry,” I said, but Bonnie took it in stride. She ruffled his hair. It wasn’t the first time she did that either.
“She got married really young. Her husband would leave her for months and months. Until one day, he didn’t come home. She worked odd jobs to survive, but it was a lot like it is now. Women weren’t allowed to do anything without a man.” She rolled her eyes.
“Then she met Clyde Barrow. It was love at first sight. Bonnie and Clyde. For a while, they were the most fearsome pair of outlaws the world had ever seen.” Her eyes were alight with wicked fervor. Bonnie nudged my brother with her elbow.
“Bonnie even got caught once,” she said. “Until she talked her way out of it. She was good like that, like me.” She paused. We could both see my brother’s wide, curious eyes wanting to know more.
“Rule number one of being an outlaw, Kid: don’t fall in love. Bonnie Parker did and wound up dead for her trouble. Shot full of holes on some backroad in the swamp.”
Silence fell. I couldn’t help but stare at her, wondering what her story was. The Bonnie she was named after was infamous; even I knew her name. But this Bonnie, I wondered, what was her true story? Who was she running from and why? What kind of people raised her? Who had she loved before?
I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t realize I was still staring at her, and she stared right back. After a long moment, she averted her gaze.
“C’mon, Kid, let’s kill some stuff. We’re stuck for a while. Might as well make good on my promise and teach you how to shoot,” she said.
As if sensing my protest, Bonnie stood, my brother walking alongside her.
“What’re you scared of?” she asked him, putting her hands on his shoulders to square him in front of a tall, crooked cactus. I reached to my waistband, double checking that the .22 was in place in case anything went wrong. I didn’t like this. By the way she kept glancing at me, Bonnie knew it.
“You can’t face your fears if you don’t admit what they are, Kid.”
“Fire,” he said. My knees turned to sand, and my stomach churned. “I’m scared of fire.”
Any further protest I had washed away at his words. He was afraid of the fire. I was afraid of what lay beyond the smoke.
“You see that cactus?” Bonnie asked, leaning down to his level. I narrowed my eyes at her words. What was she getting at?
Harry gave one swift nod.
“It’s the fire. When you have a gun in your hand, you don’t point it at anyone or anything you aren’t prepared to kill. It’s not a toy. Got it?” He nodded once more, his back and shoulders tense. I felt that tension all over me; I was wound tighter than a bowstring.
“Here,” Bonnie said, handing him the large gun. She positioned his grip properly. “Use both hands. Hold it tight and level it right at the heart of what scares you most. The gun is an extension of yourself.”
It was like when Pop taught me to shoot. We weren’t facing our fears then. We hunted for survival, not for protection. Bonnie continued her instructions, bringing me back to the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the endless desert.
“See this line down the barrel of the gun? It’s called the sight. That’s where you look to aim.” Harry adjusted his stance and lifted the gun, peering down it. Bonnie clicked her tongue.
“Keep both eyes open and soften your elbows. Remember to breathe in deep, look down the sight, and follow through. You do those three things and you’ll never miss.”
The empty click of the gun sounded.
“Good. Now we’re gonna take the safety off, and you’re gonna do it again. This time, the cactus is the fire. Take control of the fear so it doesn’t control you.”
My brother exhaled a ragged breath, narrowing his eyes slightly. The next thing I heard was the piercing sound of a single shot and my brother hollering in victory.
His joy was a sweet sound, compared to the horrors that had destroyed our lives that night. I’d rather hear him excited over something like this than the crackle of flames, the moaning of splintering wood, or the cries of animals being slaughtered. In a way, Harry’s shot into the cactus brought my life full circle. After all, this journey began when a gunshot stole my quiet farmer’s life.
Chapter Five - Bonnie
The Kid whooped and hollered, shaking his shoulders and hips in wild motions while brandishing the M9 above his head. I caught myself smiling at him before plucking the gun from his hand quickly. Stamping it down, I turned my back on his pouting face.
“I told you it wasn’t a toy,” I chided him, his pitiful groan wafting towards me on the faint breeze. As soon as I turned from him, my mood plummeted. The Kid had done the near impossible and beaten back the memories that had hounded me since our run-in with Sixgun yesterday. Jesse’s eyes were on me again as I crossed to the horses. He watched me with near-obsession, as if waiting for me to make a mistake and prove to him that I was the same as Sixgun. He was going to be disappointed.
There wasn’t anyone as evil as Sixgun, except perhaps Jones.
The Kid crossed to Jesse, talking too fast to make much sense in his excitement. Jesse nodded absentmindedly, and my hands shook as the memories clawed their way to the surface.
“You can’t cry when they touch you. Just fucking pretend to like it, okay?” Jones snarled, his lips twisted in disgust as I wiped the tears off my cheeks.
I nodded, taking a deep breath and straightening my shoulders. Ten was old enough to start helping the crew run cons. It was. Jones said so. He snapped impatient fingers, and one of the newer guys, probably mid-40s with a sagging gut, stepped forward. His lumbering bulk reached out to touch one of my too-thin, too-pale arms. Instantly my face screwed up, and tears ran in salt tracks down my cheeks as I recoiled. He sighed, turning to Jones with an open-handed gesture of helplessness. Jones, however, wasn’t having any of it this time.
“I told you to stop crying!” His harsh words startled me, forcing me to sob harder. His hand reached out and tangled in my hair at the base of my neck, dragging me across the room to a trunk he kept in the corner. Throwing the lid up he tossed me inside, not for the first time.
“Bonnie!” The Kid’s voice snapped me from my thoughts, but I didn’t think I could take looking at his sweet, innocent face right now. Instead, I inspected the red rock we’d settled in the shade of; a large crack scored the surface, running almost all the way to the top. My hands shook harder. I needed something to distract me from my dark thoughts.
Without looking back, I ben
t over and began unlacing my boots. Sliding my feet out, I reassessed the rock. It was tall. Tall enough that a fall from that height could seriously injure me. I studied the path I would take, tying my hair tightly away from my face.
“What’re you looking at?” The Kid asked, stopping next to me and shielding his eyes from the sun.
“Just trying to see the best way to climb to the top,” I said, shrugging.
“Why?” Jesse asked, the word tumbling from his mouth before he had the good sense to stop it. I looked over my shoulder at him, his eyebrows knit low in bafflement. Last night he’d turned me down, and I still didn’t know why. When the unfulfilled promise of his mouth and hands and body left me cold, the nightmares came to haunt me. Jesse wouldn’t be the distraction I needed to get through the nights, so exhaustion would have to do.
“It’s a long way to Roswell; we’ll need more water for the trip. I wanna see if there are any settlements nearby where we can resupply,” I muttered, crossing towards the craggy surface of the rock and finding my first handhold. My arms weren’t strong, so I used my legs to push up onto the surface as Jesse began untying his boots and swearing below me. He crossed to my side and found a handhold with a black expression on his face.
“What’re you doin’?” I asked, the words an exasperated sigh.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he retorted, finding another handhold and pulling himself higher on the rock than me. I ground my teeth together, my legs straining hard with the next push that helped me catch up.
“I don’t need your help,” I said. He made an incredulous sound in the back of his throat, a mix between a scoff and a grunt. He was taller, longer, stronger than me and able to climb more quickly. Before long he passed me again and I gritted my teeth against the urge to curse at him as I pulled my way up. The heat of the sun reflected onto my skin from the surface of the rock, and sweat beaded at my temples. I’d caught up with Jesse again, but it wouldn’t be long before he made it to the top.
I didn’t like the idea of him looking down on me.
His forearms flexed from the strain of climbing, and the sight pulled my focus just long enough for my recklessness to get me into trouble. The stone crumbled beneath my hand. I slipped, heart plummeting to crash somewhere near my ankles. A cry escaped my mouth before I could stop it. Jesse’s arm shot out, wrapping around my waist before I slipped to the craggy rocks below.
I couldn’t tell if I wanted to thank him or slap him.
His skin was hot, and he repositioned his arm to keep me in the cage of his body as we made it the last few feet. His breath was hot on my neck the whole time, and I was sure he could hear the racing of my heart through my chest. Awkwardly, we scrambled over together, knees and elbows knocking into each other until we were both sprawled on the flat surface. I looked at Jesse; he looked how I felt. Flushed and gasping for breath, an echo of his passion-glazed face from the night before. I hadn’t imagined his desire for me; it was hard for a man to mask when he wanted a woman, especially with his hips pressed so hard against mine. Why hadn’t he taken me up on my offer?
Part of me, the part I furiously ignored, wondered if he could tell how broken I was. If he looked at me and saw the scars I hid from the world. If he could tell that I wasn’t half as brave as I pretended to be. His rejection still stung. I could feel it like a splinter, working its way through layers of my skin.
“Why did you follow me up here?” I asked, my words angry. He rose onto an elbow, his blue eyes dark with fury.
“To keep you from plunging to your death and stranding us in the middle of the desert without a guide.” He spat the words.
“I told you, I didn’t need your help,” I said shoving onto my feet.
“You did, actually,” he countered, rising to his feet and towering over me. The truth in his words rankled my nerves. I turned away with a disgruntled scoff. The wind cooled my feverish cheeks, and I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun as I looked out to the horizon. With my bare feet flat on the stone beneath me and the desert laid out before me in a riot of color, I could practically hear the earth breathing beneath my feet.
The sky was set ablaze, swirling violently with color as I scoured the hills and hollows searching for signs of people. A column of smoke rose in the distance, far enough away that it was a good indication of a town or settlement, not just a lone campfire. I pulled the map from my back pocket, marking the direction and distance as I worried my bottom lip with my teeth. I’d thought of thirteen insults while mapping the area. Glancing at Jesse, the harsh words poised on my tongue faded into smoke. He was staring openly at the landscape in wonder, the awestruck expression transforming the hard lines of his face into a peaceful look I didn’t recognize.
“A great and terrible beauty,” I said, instead of the hateful insults I'd planned. My words seemed to break the spell he was under as he blinked himself into awareness. Pity. I’d never seen him more handsome than he’d been moments before.
“Yeah, the most beautiful things tend to be the most terrible,” he said, offering me a sarcastic grin. The words had a playful lilt in his oddly calming voice, but they brushed against the raw edges of wounds that would probably never heal.
Terrible. I couldn’t deny it. How many men had I lured for Jones over the years? How many died because of it? I looked down at my hands, red dust settling into the lines of my palms like tiny rivulets of blood only I could see.
“Yeah, they do,” I agreed softly. Tucking the map back into my pocket, I made towards the edge to start my descent. Legs hanging over for a moment before Jesse spoke again.
“Who was that woman back in Vegas? Beck,” he asked, startling me at the abrupt change in conversation. “Does she have something to do with why you’re on the run?” It seemed The Kid’s curiosity was infectious today. A sad smile feathered across my mouth before disappearing again.
“Beck’s...” I trailed off, unsure how to explain our complicated past. “I looked out for her once, and it cost me.” Unconsciously I tugged at the sleeve of my left arm, making sure the knotted scar was fully covered.
“Okay, what about those men with the red fist tattoos? Are they coming after you too?” He crossed his arms over his chest. I sighed, though his questions weren’t unwarranted. I motioned for him to sit next to me.
“The Crimson Fist,” I explained, tightening my hair tie. “A gang of assassins and thugs. No job they won’t do as long as you can pay for it.” He sat, eyes dull as he took in the information. “You saw the bounty on my head. If they found me they would bring me in.” He turned to regard me plainly.
“What about the people you’ve killed?” he asked. Ah, finally, the real questions he wanted answers to.
“What about them?”
“How do I know we’ll be safe traveling with you?” he asked with no levity in his eyes. I laughed, a bitter sound.
“I only kill for one of three reasons, farm boy. A threat to my freedom, safety, or someone I care about. Don’t do those things, and you won’t have to worry about me killin’ you. But, make no mistake, I’ve got people comin’ after me. Traveling with me isn’t exactly safe.” A flirty smile slid over my lips to mask the too-vulnerable moment between us.
“What if they catch you?” The words pushed through a scowl on his lips. As if he’d asked the question before deciding if he really wanted to know the answer or not.
“Don’t worry. They won’t take me alive,” I said, the shock in his eyes forcing a chuckle from my throat as I pushed off the edge and began to make my way down the face of the rock. By the time our feet hit the sand, The Kid had worked himself into a frenzy. He had so many questions about Bonnie Parker and my childhood that the only way I knew to deal with him was to put him on Jesse’s horse and keep riding for the remainder of the afternoon.
The heat slid around my shoulders and slicked against my skin, sinking deep enough that the exhaustion I’d craved earlier settled into my bones. I wanted water, but knew I needed to start rationing now
. I’d grown too comfortable in Vegas, having a place to sleep and food every night. I’d have to retrain my body to ignore thirst, hunger, and pain.
We didn’t make it much farther before the sun began to set and it was time to set up camp, but I hadn’t pushed them at the same grueling pace of the morning either. The need to keep my hands busy trembled through me as we stopped moving.
“Hey Jesse! Look what I found,” The Kid called from somewhere behind me.
“Get that thing away from me!” Jesse shouted, a note of terror in his deep voice. I turned, watching as The Kid chased Jesse with hands clasped around a tarantula. Jesse stumbled, swearing, as The Kid cackled gleefully.
Without words, I built a fire, rolled out bedrolls, tied horses down, tended them, and on, and on, and on, until there was nothing left to do except stop for the night.
When I finally sat, The Kid sidled up to me, more questions I couldn’t answer poised on his too-curious mouth. The tarantula crawled across his knuckles and down his wrist casually. Wasn’t he tired yet? Jesse passed the food he’d unwrapped toward me, but I shook my head, stretching my arms above me and groaning as my muscles burned with the effort. My shirt was stiff with dried sweat, and I rose to find a new one in my bag.
I walked into the darkness to peel the shirt from my sand-covered skin, keeping my back to the fire as I shoved the clean fabric over my shoulders and shuffled out of my jeans before pulling my soft cotton sleep pants up over my hips. Was there anything that felt better than clean clothes? I didn’t think so.
Once I’d finished changing, the boys were settling down for the night. Slipping into my bedroll wordlessly, The Kid dragged his bedding across from Jesse’s side of the fire next to mine without asking. He shoved himself between layers of blankets before curling up beside me.
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