by Faye Byrd
WANTED
Dead or Alive
Faye Byrd
Cover Design: Ceara Therrien
Edited by Fran Walsh
Extra special thanks to Ankita and Sara!
Copyright © 2017 by Faye Byrd
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Table of Contents:
Chapter One, The Catalyst
Chapter Two, The Revenge
Chapter Three, The Retreat
Chapter Four, The Reality Check
Chapter Five, The Next Six Years
Chapter Six, The Showdown
Chapter Seven, The Double Barrel
Chapter Eight, The Outlaw
Chapter Nine, The Truth of the Matter
Chapter Ten, The Clincher
Chapter Eleven, The Temporary Landing Spot
Chapter Twelve, The Meet and Greet
Chapter Thirteen, The Roll in the Hay
Chapter Fourteen, The Abrupt Departure
Chapter Fifteen, The Rescue
Chapter Sixteen, The Train Ride
Chapter Seventeen, The Robbers
Chapter Eighteen, The Drop
Chapter Nineteen, The Interruption
Chapter Twenty, The Posse
Chapter Twenty-One, The Last Visit
Chapter Twenty-Two, The Stakeout
Chapter Twenty-Three, The Heist
Chapter Twenty-Four, The Unholy Matrimony
Chapter Twenty-Five, The River
Chapter Twenty-Six, The Tiny Town
Chapter Twenty-Seven, The Post Office
Chapter Twenty-Eight, The Decision
Chapter Twenty-Nine, The New Residents
Chapter Thirty, The Epilogue
Chapter One
The Catalyst
NATHAN
“Nathan,” Ma calls from the back door. “Get cleaned up for supper. Ya pa should be here any minute.”
I wipe the sweat from my brow and heave a heavy sigh. “Yes, ma’am,” I yell back, relieved that my time in the late afternoon sun’s almost over. Growing up in the untamed West ain’t been the most luxurious lifestyle, but I reckon it’s better than living in a big city out east and being all hoity-toity.
I make my way to the water bucket and splash my face ‘fore submersing my gritty hands and cleaning the grime as best I can. Turning for the back door, I scurry on inside.
“Smells good, Ma,” I compliment, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Ya pa went to see the banker man today. I want him to have a feast when he comes home. It takes a lot for a strong man such as him to ask for help.” She goes about setting the table with a huge pork rump and all the fixings.
“Ya really think he can save the farm?” I ask. I mean, sure we been productive in the past, but getting money from the bank also means he’s gone have to pay it back. Right now, we can’t even afford to hire outside help.
She sets down the plates and looks to me with a sigh. “Son, he ain’t got no other choice. We’ll starve to death if we can’t get money to replant the fields and purchase some new head of cattle.”
At seventeen, I’m already doing my life’s work. I quit school when I was just thirteen so I could stay home and help Pa on the farm. Not that it mattered much. Here we are, just four years later, sinking deeper and deeper into despair.
A ruckus outside draws our attention, and me and Ma both scramble toward the front door to meet Pa just as he’s coming in. Slamming the door behind him, he runs over to the cabinet in the corner, withdrawing his shotgun.
“Nate,” Ma questions. “What’s goin’ on?”
“Get in the kitchen, Anne. You don’t need to be seein’ any of this,” Pa orders, tossing my grandpa’s pair of Colts my way.
I catch ‘em with shaky hands. Sure I handled a gun plenty times, but somehow I get the feeling I ain’t just handling ‘em now. He’s on edge and acting like he’s ready for war.
When he’s done and Ma hasn’t made a move, he approaches and ushers her to the kitchen door. “No matter what ya hear, you don’t come out. Got that?” His voice is hard as steel, and even Ma knows better than to argue.
Returning to the room, he motions to the stairs. “Get up there, boy, and stay out of sight. Ya ain’t gettin’ in the middle of this mess.”
I move toward the stairs, but when I reach the foot, I stop and turn. “What’s happenin’, Pa?”
“Caught a couple riders on my tail on the way home.” He removes a satchel from his shoulder and tosses it my way. “When ya carrying cash like that, it pays to be suspicious. I don’t know if they friend or foe, but ya guard that with ya life, ya hear?”
“Yes, sir.” I start up the stairs but stop part way and catch Pa’s eye again. “Don’t worry, I got ya back.”
“No!” he demands, pointing a finger. “Ya listen to me good, boy. You stay out of sight, and if things go south, I want ya to get ya Ma out of here. Ya hear me?”
“But, Pa, I can help ya,” I argue.
“Ya can help me out by guardin’ that money and makin’ sure ya ma gets away from here, even if I can’t.” His voice is stern and his stare is hard. I wanna argue more, but even I can agree that Ma has no place in the kind a mess he’s talking ‘bout.
I meet his eyes for a few more seconds, my insides warring, but finally I concede with a small nod. I move up the stairs and pick a spot where I still got a vantage point on what’s happening below.
Pa aims his gun and pushes the front door open, stepping out on the porch. I can’t see him now, but with the door still cracked, I can hear the horses coming down the drive. When the hoofbeats are right out front, they come to a halt.
“State ya business,” Pa announces to the newcomers, and I just bet that shotgun’s aimed.
“No need for hostility, Mr. King. We just want what we came for, and we’ll be on our way. No one has to get hurt,” one of the men announces.
“Over my dead body,” Pa proclaims. His tone is menacing, but the men don’t seem to care. They just chuckle at his obvious ire.
“Well if that’s what ya insist on—” A loud bang echoes through the silence, and I hear my pa groan before a thump sounds against the wood of the porch.
Not being able to stay still any longer, I ease my way down the stairs and over to a window. What I see there tears me up. Pa’s laid out with a gaping hole in his right shoulder, blood pooling beneath him. I let my eyes wander to the two outsiders still atop their horses.
One guy has a nasty smirk on his lips while the other seems a little shell-shocked himself. Very casually, Smirky says, “I tried to do this the nice way. They never listen.” He cuts his eyes to his sidekick. “Now, go find me that satchel.”
Sidekick gulps and slowly dismounts from his horse. “Did ya have to kill him?”
I’m at odds with myself. It’s time I make a decision. I wanna rage and run out the door firing at everything in sight, but I made a promise to Pa. I got to get Ma out of here. Taking one last glance at my father, I back away from the window and start crawling toward the kitchen.
The loud bang of Pa’s shotgun brings me up short, then it’s followed by three more pistol shots. It’s in that second I know that my Pa’s definitely dead. Having no need to see the evidence myself, I continue on toward the kitchen, crawling across the floor on my knees and elbows.
When I finally make it to the door, I stand and burst inside, but Ma’s nowhere in sight. I panic and run to the back door that’s still partially open. With the Colts in hand, I rush down the rickety wooden steps, se
arching frantically for any sign of Ma.
Her voice meets my ears. “Toss ya weapon, and I won’t put another bullet through ya.”
I ease my way ‘round the house, trying to lay eyes on Ma. When I spot her, she’s standing with a pistol I ain’t ever seen before, aimed at Sidekick, who’s already laid out on the ground with a big ole hole in his thigh. Must be from Pa’s shotgun, I surmise.
Sidekick tosses his pistol in the dirt and lays his head back with a thump. I almost smile at Ma’s antics, ‘til I remember that Smirky’s ‘round here somewhere. Panicking again, I start running in her direction.
But I’m too late.
Smirky slips out of his hiding spot and puts his shiny Colt right up to my ma’s temple. “Well hello, Mrs. King. Mighty fine to meet ya, ma’am.”
Her arm drops and the pistol she was aiming falls to the ground. She turns to face Smirky. “Shame I can’t say the same.”
“No need to make it worse then,” Smirky says. “Hand over the satchel of money, and we’ll be on our way.”
Ma’s shoulders stiffen and she’s the one who’s smirking now. “Ya mean to tell me ya came here and done killed my husband and ya don’t know where the satchel is? That was mighty stupid of ya.” She crosses her arms over her chest and speaks again, only this time, it’s louder than before. “I just bet that satchel is long gone from here. My husband may’ve been poor, but he ain’t stupid.”
Smirky’s face transforms. It goes from lighthearted and playful to full on menacing. And even though I know Ma’s telling me to run, I can’t. I made a promise to Pa and satchel be damned. Ma’s life is more important than any money ever could be.
I step out in the open, both Colts aimed at Smirky. “Drop ya weapon and step away from my ma.” I tilt my head to the satchel hanging at my hip. “Is this what ya came for?”
Instead of doing as I asked, Smirky grabs Ma from behind with his forearm tight against her throat. “This ain’t my first rodeo, son. We do things my way.”
I put him in my crosshairs. Do I take a chance or let him run this show? I know in my gut that if he gets his way, he’ll leave here with the satchel and both me and Ma will be dead. To save us, I got to take a chance.
Afraid to aim for his head ‘cause it’s so close to Ma, I move to the next possible spot; his left side. With a deep breath and a small prayer that I’m doing the right thing, I squeeze the trigger.
Several things happen at once. The bullet hits its mark, but his grip on Ma only tightens and she falls beside him, fighting and scrambling. My Colts drop to the ground and I run toward them, but ‘fore I can make it, he pulls the trigger.
His bullet hits Ma in the back of the head and she slumps in her spot, face down on the ground. Feeling rage like never before, I land on top of him, pounding fist after fist in his face. I’m so lost that I don’t even recollect when he dropped his gun or that he could’ve shot me, too.
When I come out of my haze, he’s a bloody heap before me, coughing and a sputtering. But that don’t stop his red-coated teeth from shining in a slimy smile. “Somehow I managed to underestimate the youngest King.” He laughs like a lunatic. “Go on, boy. Finish what ya started.”
I grab his shirt between my fists and snatch him up and slam him back into the hard ground. “I ain’t no killer!”
His eyes cut to my ma’s dead body lying ‘bout a foot away. “Sure ya are, son. Look what I done gone and done. I killed ya ma and pa. Don’t ya want some revenge?” he taunts. “I’ll be a dead man anyway when the boss finds out. Finish me, boy!” He grips my arms as hard as he can and bores into me with his eyes. “Do it,” he grits.
I want to. I wanna kill him so bad, but there’s one thing that keeps me from conceding. “The boss?” I question. “Someone sent ya here?”
His head falls back and a maniacal laugh escapes. Blood sputters from his mouth, as he can’t seem to contain himself. When he finally reins it in, though, his eyes are piercing. “You sure ya want in that can of worms, son?”
“Stop callin’ me, son!” I bark, slamming my fist in his face once more. “Who is it? Who sent ya here?”
His breaths are now coming in short pants. “If I give ya that information, ya gone put me out of my misery?”
I ponder that thought for a minute. Can I do it? Can I kill this man who done came here and tore my life apart? It don’t take but two seconds to answer those questions.
I sure as hell can.
With a nod, I say, “Deal.”
Chapter Two
The Revenge
NATHAN
The days following the intrusion that changed my life are tough for many reasons. I have to bury Ma and Pa, side-by-side, under the old Cypress tree down by the stream. As I dug them holes, the whole time my mind was raging at the info Smirky had let go of ‘fore he passed.
And by passed, I mean got a bullet to the head. As for Sidekick, well, he had to go, too.
Since I’m killing anyway, what’s one more?
With my parents in the ground and revenge on my mind, I strap on my pa’s double holster and place the pair of Colts inside. Then I take his shotgun and sling it over my back. Saddling up Smirky’s horse, who I’ve named Arrow, I take the second horse’s reins and we start meandering up the dusty drive.
The ride into town is silent and slow, my mind calculating. I want someone to pay, and although going to the sheriff would be the right thing to do, I don’t think I’ll be satisfied with the outcome. But do I wanna take revenge and turn into that kind a man?
I feel like I got no other choice. Surely, it’s not what Pa would’ve wanted from me, but I can’t just let some dirty, low-down scoundrel get away with snuffing out my parents’ lives.
With a few dollars in my pocket and the rest stashed real good, I make my way into town. First things first, what to do with this extra horse? Maybe I’ll just hook him up outside the sheriff’s office?
I try to be nonchalant, but just as I’m climbing atop Arrow, Sheriff Harper comes out the door. “Nathan,” he calls, halting me. “Can I help ya, son?”
My mind starts arguing with itself. On the one hand, maybe he can help, but on the other, what if he don’t? Then I’ll be done implicated myself, ‘cause with his help or not, that son-of-a-bitch is gone die.
“Naw, Sheriff, this here horse was wanderin’ ‘round our farm and I wanted to try and get him back to his owner,” I reply, my mind made up.
Sheriff eyes me suspiciously. “And ya was just gone leave him here without sayin’ anythin’?”
I gulp. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”
His hands rest on his waist and he lifts a brow. “Wouldn’t the best way to figure that out be to come inside? What’s goin’ on, boy? Where’s ya pa?”
Sweat beads on my brow. This is going into territory I had no intention of discussing. “Look, Sheriff, I was just leavin’ a horse here so ya could find his owner.” I climb on up in the saddle and look back to him. “And now I’ll just be on my way.” Kicking Arrow into motion, I start making my way to my next destination.
When I stop outside the bank and loop Arrow’s reins on the post, I can’t help but notice the sheriff is still standing there eyeing me. I pretend I don’t see him and make my way inside.
The pretty clerk perks up when I stand before her. “Can I help ya, sir?”
I give her a tilt of my head. “Yes, ma’am. I need a see Mr. Nelson, please.”
Her brows rise. “And who am I to say is callin’?”
“Mr. King,” I answer, puffing up to my full height.
“Yes, sir.” She scampers to a closed door off to the side.
When she comes back my way, I glance at the door. Ernest Nelson is standing there with a curious look on his face. I turn and plant a smirk on my lips as I start to approach.
“Not the Mr. King I expected,” he says, holding his hand out for me to grasp.
I curl my lip and ignore the gesture, striding right past him into the office. My eyes scan the small
square and it ain’t no surprise that this room is much more opulent than the rest of the building. Fine furnishings and dark wood fill the space, along with some expensive-looking artwork on the walls.
He clears his throat behind me and closes the door, walking ‘round his desk to face me. With a gesture to the chair across from him, he takes his seat. “What can I do for ya, Mr. King?” The slimy look on his face and the inflection in his voice make me think he’s attempting to humor me.
I chuckle, and it ain’t a funny chuckle either. “I think you done did enough.”
He crosses his arms and rocks back in his chair, studying me with his cold, murdering eyes.
I hold his stare.
He may think I’m one to be underestimated, but so did Smirky, and look where his ass is now. I came here for one reason and one reason only—to let him know he’s gone die for what he did. All my pa was trying to do was take care of his family, and he played right into this sorry sack of shit’s hand.
See, this is his scheme. How he works. He loans the poor pleading farmers money in exchange for the title to their land. Then, he sends his gunslingers to take the money back so they can’t pay, and he ends up owning the property and pocketing the cash. Only this time, and I guess it’s happened before, people died. My people. He thinks he’s gone keep it up, too, but it ain’t happening.
It ends here—with my family.
He ends.
“Got nothin’ to say, Mr. Nelson?” I ask with my brow raised, challenging him to deny what I already know.
He snorts and leans forward, propping his hands on the shiny wood of his expensive-ass desk—a desk bought with other people’s blood. His mask of humor slips away, and a snarl curls his lips. “Boy, I’m only gone give ya one warnin’. I don’t know what ya think ya know, but ya better run ya little ass right on out of here and not let me see ya again. Bad things happen to little boys who try and play grownup games.”
I prop my hands on his desk and lean in real close, face-to-face. “See, here’s the thing, I ain’t a little boy no more. Had to grow up real fast-like, and now I’m out to see someone pay.”