Guns & Smoke

by Lauren Sevier

  Will wasn’t faring well in the back, if the string of bilingual expletives was any indication. The worst ones he shouted in Spanish, thankfully. At least The Kid wouldn’t learn any new swears. Clara’d been in the back of the wagon when I shoved Will inside; I’m sure his colorful language and openly bleeding gunshot wound were doing wonders for her sense of safety.

  The landscape blurred around us, shifting from the open expanse of nature to the crumbling remains of an abandoned town. Burned out buildings and cracked asphalt slipped away as Eagle soared over the terrain with each shuddering slam of her hooves. She flew over the ground, driving her legs down so powerfully it propelled her into a speed I’d only felt hints of on our journey so far. As if she could feel the threat behind us. As if she were protecting me the only way she knew how.

  A looming gate holding back a sea of rusting cars towered ahead. A white X marked the gates, a symbol indicating the presence of an undesirable sanctuary.

  “There!” I shouted to Jesse who’d easily kept pace on No Name. Sixgun wouldn’t look for us in the fringes. He wouldn’t expect me to be crazy enough to ride into a place that dangerous, even to outrun him. My mouth went dry and my hands shook so violently I could barely hold on to the reins. There was no other choice. If we didn’t do something, he’d catch us, and I knew what he’d do to Jesse and The Kid if that happened.

  We thundered through the gates. I yanked up hard on the reins, Eagle skidding to a stop inside the junkyard. I extended the M9 in front of me, scanning the area. Fires burned from several metal cans. The people surrounding them turned to us, slinking out of the shadows. Some were barely more than skeletons, wrapped in scarred skin that stretched too tight over their frames. Others with blue stained lips moved in jerking movements.

  “Sanctuary!” I shouted, chest heaving with adrenaline. With a clack, clack Jesse chambered a round in his shotgun beside me. “We need sanctuary!”

  The silence seethed with malevolent intention. It had a sentience that promised violence and blood. I knew what they saw. The supplies, the weapons, the horses. We had too much they wanted. Too much they’d kill for.

  “It’s you,” a voice said from the darkness beyond a tower of rusting cars. A tall dark-skinned man stepped from the shadows. At first glance, he wasn’t an undesirable: no scars or deformities, not an addict by the pink shade of his lips. He was strong and healthy. His eyes fixed on my face with a warm smile. I tipped my gun down, but didn’t lower it completely. I didn’t know this man, didn’t recognize him.

  He pointed off to the right, and I found hundreds of wanted posters plastered over a section of the chain link gate. Thousands of my own eyes staring down at us. I swallowed down my trepidation, eyebrows knitting low in confusion.

  “What is this?” I asked. More people filed in from the twisting paths through the junkyard. More people who weren’t undesirables. Not from what I saw.

  “You saved us,” he said, arms relaxed by his sides. My eyes dropped to his wrists, scarred in thick, uneven bands. “You started the slave revolt that liberated us. We’ve been taking down your posters as we come across them.”

  A woman with a bright-eyed toddler came forward. Her rounded face flushed, her eyes welled with unshed tears. She was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. A shocked sound of recognition fell from my lips. When I’d last seen her, the curls framing her face were limp with neglect, and her eyes had been dull and haunted. I lowered the M9 incredulously.

  “You killed the man who raped me, and freed us from the back of a wagon. I never thought I’d see you again,” she said reverently.

  “Please,” I begged. “We need help.”

  Without another word, the dark-skinned man walked to the horses. He directed us further into the junkyard where we couldn’t be seen from the street. People parted around us. I shared a heavy glance with Jesse who kept the shotgun at the ready. The undesirables retreated from around our wagon, slinking into the shadows as if they’d never been there at all.

  We dismounted slowly. The woman from earlier letting her toddler pat Eagle’s neck for a moment before facing me. I studied the child, a girl with bright eyes and a wild smile. A question I didn’t dare ask hung heavily between us. The woman nodded before kissing her daughter’s temple.

  “My name is Talia. This is Mercy,” she said. A fractured smile crossed my lips.

  “Mercy. I like that,” I said quietly.

  “They won’t bother you,” the dark-skinned man said from beside Jesse, motioning toward the shadows. “We’ll keep them away.”

  The Kid bounded over with excitement flaring bright in his eyes.

  “So, this is domestic terrorism?” he asked, grinning. I rolled my eyes and chuckled, ruffling his hair affectionately. Will’s throaty groan tore through the comfortable silence. Relief washed over me now that the immediate danger was behind us.

  Jesse wasn’t concerned with the precarious safety we’d managed to find. He swung down from No Name, and walked around to the back of the wagon, leveling his shotgun at Will’s chest. I pinched the bridge of my nose and called to The Kid.

  “I need you to start a fire and get the med kit and canteen. Can you do that?” I asked. He nodded, his grin widening. I walked towards Jesse, whose blue eyes hardened in the afternoon light, trained on Will’s every move as he struggled to sit up.

  “At ease, soldier,” I said softly, my hand resting on Jesse’s forearm for a long moment. Finally, he lowered the shotgun enough so I could face Will.

  “What are you still doin’ with this guy?” Will asked, jerking his head toward Jesse. “I mean, he’s hot, I’ll give you that.” Will’s warm brown eyes slid over Jesse’s long legs and broad shoulders before focusing back on me. “But he’s so violent.”

  I stifled a grin, but it found its way onto my mouth anyway. My farm boy, violent. I guess it was true, considering the men he’d killed not long ago and the violent encounters we’d had along our journey. For some reason, I’d never thought of Jesse that way. Maybe because I felt safe with him.

  “Why’re you following us?” I asked, stamping down the moment of levity. This was Will; as much as I wanted to trust him, I didn’t know if I could.

  “I’ve been tracking you for months. Trying to get to you before my dad. There are things we need to talk about,” he said in a low voice. His brown eyes lost their usual playful warmth. His gaze flickered to Jesse behind my shoulder.

  “Then talk,” I said, resting my hands on my hips.

  “Alone,” he pressed.

  “Anything you have to say, you can say in front of Jesse,” I said, stepping back to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Jesse, who glanced at me.

  “Well, isn’t that just adorable,” Will said, swinging his mocking gaze between us. “Seriously, this has nothing to do with your... who exactly is he to you? Fuck buddy?”

  Who was Jesse to me?

  The question ricocheted through my mind, distracting me from Will’s unique brand of annoyance. He wasn’t my lover. Well, not yet, anyway. We weren’t friends. He was someone who’d killed for me. Someone who stole my breath with a glance. I was in love with him, but what he’d said back at that stream was I want you. What did that make us, exactly?

  “Will,” I groaned, running a weary hand down my face at his lewd suggestion. “Just spill it already, or I won’t sew up the hole in your arm, and I’ll leave you here to bleed out.”

  He opened his mouth to say something else but, after studying my serious expression, snapped it shut again.

  “Whatever, it won’t make much sense to Jesse anyway,” Will grumbled petulantly. “I left the crew.”

  The words stilled me, and my arms dropped to my sides. Even from here, the tattoo on his neck stood out against his bronze skin, as it had in Flagstaff. A hanged man. Jesse kept flicking his eyes between us as we held a tense stare. No one left the crew. Not alive, anyway.

  “W-why would you do that?” I asked, stepping closer to him. He shifted on the back of
the wagon, hissing as it jostled his injured arm.

  “You,” he breathed out incredulously, eyes soft. “I left the crew for you.”

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out. He’d signed his own death warrant for me.

  “My dad took a job up north, and Jones made me a full-fledged Hanged Man. Honestly, I think he was just pissed he wouldn’t have his resident psychopath to instill fear,” Will said, running a shaking hand through his dark curls. “When he got back, he was acting really strange. Cagey. Like he was afraid.”

  The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Anything bad enough to make a sadist like Sixgun scared set my nerves on edge.

  “I caught him talking to himself in his tent. He kept saying the same things, over and over. Didn’t find it and I had to burn it all down and it’ll be alright as long as I get Bonnie.”

  Sixgun rarely did jobs for anyone but Jones. It wasn’t uncommon, but the circumstances were unusual at best. Will’s eyes were dark and troubled, but something stuck out in my mind.

  “Where did you say this job was?” I asked, my voice careful as I regarded Jesse over my shoulder for a long moment.

  “Somewhere in Montana. Why?” Will asked, but my mouth went dry all of a sudden.

  I'm scared of the fire... How do you know what burning flesh smells like?... Same thing that happened to my parents, fire... I buried them myself...

  Every moment of painful remembrance flooded me at once. Jesse recovered more quickly than me. As Jesse raised the shotgun with deadly intention, I stepped in front of Will to halt the dark impulse in Jesse’s eyes.

  "Move out of the way, Bonnie," he said, no hint of the deep canyon timbre I loved so much in his hard words.

  "No," I said, my voice gentle. I stepped closer until the barrels of the gun were flush against my stomach.

  How many times since I'd met him had he waded into my darkness and pulled me back? I gripped the barrels and pulled until Jesse’s grip loosened, and I took the gun from him. He didn’t look at me once. His eyes trained murderously on Will, chest heaving. Before I could reach out to him, soothe the ragged edges of the past, he was punching Will’s jaw with a thud.

  “Jesse!” I called, dropping the shotgun.

  “Who was he working for? Your son of a bitch father killed—"

  “Jesse!” I shouted, gripping his arm tight so he couldn’t bring it down on Will’s face again. The Kid stood by the wagon, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes. Innocent eyes that didn’t know Will was talking about the events that led to his parents’ deaths.

  “Motherfucker! Seriously, Bonnie, control your fuck boy, would you?!” Will said, pressing his free hand to his face. “How does he know anything about that shithole town in Montana?”

  I pressed my entire body against Jesse’s as he lurched forward again.My hands gripped his face until I could pull his eyes to mine. They were dark and furious in an expression I’d never seen before. We stayed that way until his breathing slowed, the way he’d done for me before.

  “Your name is Jesse James,” I said. He swallowed hard.

  I hoped I was enough for him.

  “Did you hear what he said?” he asked through clenched teeth. I nodded, pressing my lips to his quickly.

  “I heard,” I said, brushing my fingers through his hair and cradling his face gently again. “Your name is Jesse James. You’re an outlaw. And your brother is watching everything.” I pressed my forehead against his as he fought for self-control. He gripped my waist hard, holding me tight. I let him. I let him hold me as tightly as he needed. Until he was more settled on his feet and the edge of desperation faded from his eyes.

  “Kid, why don’t you and Clara unhitch the horses and water them?” I asked. He rolled his eyes in response.

  “Is this because you used to kiss Will but you kiss Jesse now?” he asked. I glared at him, eliciting a scoff and he turned his back. “Fine! But if she doesn’t do her part, we’re leaving her here.” He turned then, and I thought I heard him grumble, “I’m never kissing anyone,” under his breath as he left.

  “Wow, neat trick,” Will said in a sarcastic tone that grated on my last nerves. “You got one that’ll get him to stop fucking punching me?”

  I turned, marching over and pressing a hand against the bullet wound in his shoulder until he screamed so loud I thought it might break my eardrums.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t let him shoot you again,” I said. He glared at me, teeth clenched.

  “You aren’t listening to me, neither of you,” he said when he’d finally shaken off the worst of the pain.

  “Whatever my dad was sent to retrieve, he didn’t get it.” He turned serious eyes on me. Eyes I knew all too well. “Bonnie, he’s dangerous normally, but scared... he’s like a cornered animal.”

  Only a matter of weeks ago, he’d nearly strangled me on the floor of a train car and enjoyed it. I couldn’t imagine what might terrify a monster like him.

  “He was raving. I know he likes your pretty skin, even if you aren’t a gringa, but this was different,” Will continued, causing my eyebrows to furrow deep on my forehead.

  “I think we’ve all had enough of your talkin’ for a while, Will,” I said, crossing to help him from the back of the wagon so I could tend to his wound. Apparently, Jesse hadn’t heard enough of Will’s bullshit. As I helped him over to the fire, Jesse peppered him with questions. Reminding me of The Kid.

  “What was he looking for?” he asked. Will spat blood out of his mouth and glared at Jesse in response. “I knew I recognized the brand on his neck. What does it mean?”

  “I’m not tellin’ you anything, pendejo,” Will responded. I unbuttoned Will’s shirt. He grinned at Jesse over my shoulder as I helped him undress. I thumped him with my thumb and forefinger between the eyes.

  “What did he call me?” Jesse asked darkly.

  “Stop that.” Will who only grinned wider. “He called you an asshole,” I told Jesse flatly, helping Will remove his sleeve from around his wound.

  “Fuck you,” Jesse muttered as I assessed the damage to Will’s arm.

  “Maybe later,” he said, winking.

  “It’s through and through,” I said, reaching for the canteen to clean the area.

  “Stitches or fire?” I asked. Will sighed heavily.

  “Well, I know how sloppy your sewing skills are,” he said. I grimaced; cauterizing would hurt worse. I reached for my knife, but Will’s hand gripped my wrist tight.

  “Wait. Help a guy out, would you?” he asked, his brown eyes warmed in mischief. He bit his bottom lip. I sighed.

  “Where are they?” I asked, familiar with his vices.

  “Front pocket,” he said, grinning at Jesse. I reached into the front pocket of his jeans quickly and fished out his cigarette case. Pulling one out, I lit it from the fire and offered it to him.

  “I fucking hate you,” Jesse mumbled. I glared at him over my shoulder.

  “You aren’t helping,” I said stiffly.

  “You’re a goddamn angel, mi cielo,” Will said, inhaling deeply while I prepped my knife, placing it in the fire. He leaned forward and brushed a long strand of hair behind my ear tenderly. From the corner of my eye I noticed Jesse tense, his eyes marking the motion.

  I retreated then, not sure what to do with myself while the knife heated enough to cauterize his wound. Both men glared at one another silently until The Kid stomped over, arms crossed over his chest. I hadn’t seen him aggravated before; he was usually the one doing the aggravating. A metallic grinding whine reverberated from the other side of the junkyard. I looked up, but The Kid waved off my concern.

  “Clara walked off,” he said. I turned to Jesse with a pleading look. Even though what he’d just learned was hard, I needed him to be the partner I’d relied on all these weeks and help me through this.

  “Can you go round up the dairy maid?” I asked. The Kid sat heavily, as close to Will as he could. Jesse’s eyes slid to Will once before nodding and standin
g swiftly. He pulled me to my feet. In a moment, his hands gripped my hips and pulled me flush against his chest. The suddenness of his actions shocked me into breathlessness. He leaned down, his mouth hot on mine. I made a soft sound against his lips, and he pulled away, leaving me unsettled on my feet.

  “Ugh, not again,” The Kid said grumpily behind me as Jesse walked in the direction Clara disappeared. Will inhaled deeply, letting the cigarette smoke curl around his bronze skin. He joined me in watching Jesse walk away, letting out a low whistle. As soon as Jesse was out of earshot, he turned to me.

  “When do we leave?” Will asked. The Kid made a surprised sound.

  “It’s not that simple,” I said. I knelt in front of the fire again and adjusted the knife in the flames. “I made a promise to get them to Fort Hood.”

  “Rule number three of being an outlaw: keep your word,” The Kid said, staring up at Will with a mix between adoration and smugness in his expression. Will turned to him, blowing a ring of smoke in his face. I glared at him, but The Kid was fascinated. “Can you do that again?”

  “I tell you what’s simple, songbird. My dad is comin’ for you, and he’s closing in. I have an in with some people in St. Louis who’ve run up against Jones’s men before. We can be there in a couple of weeks if we travel hard and light,” he said, but I was already shaking my head. “They can keep you safe.”

  “I made a promise,” I said, pulling the knife out by the hilt, the blade red. Will swore. He braced against my shoulder and sucked in a few sharp breaths to prepare himself for the pain. As I pressed the sizzling metal to his skin, an inhuman howl dragged begrudgingly from between his teeth. “Almost done.”

  “That’s so cool! Can I do the next one?” The Kid asked. I scoffed at him, incredulous.

  “No,” I said simply, pushing my hair behind my ears. I tried not to notice the pale pallor of Will’s normally-bronze skin or the tremors in his hands.

  “Hey, kid,” Will said, not realizing that was his preferred ‘outlaw’ name. “Keep me distracted for this next one.”