A Broken Outlaw

by Caylen McQueen

  “Fair enough.”

  “By the way, I really appreciate you coming to save me, sweetheart,” Patrick thanked her. She was too busy looking for Josiah, so she missed his grin. “I didn't expect to be saved by such a pretty lady. I'll have to think of a proper way to thank you. Maybe my lips on your lips? I'd say that's an adequate re--”

  Before Patrick could finish, Josiah suddenly raced around a corner and yelled, “Go!” As soon as Carol saw him, an ecstatic squeal flew from her lips.

  “You're here, you're here, you're finally here!” Carol overzealously shrilled as she chased after him. “Seriously, I can't believe you came to save us, Josie! You were so impressive!”

  Josiah, who dashed ahead of both Carol and Patrick, leapt onto the first train he saw. As soon as his friends were on board, he flicked a couple of switches and tried to pull the lever, but he couldn't get the locomotive to start. “Dammit, how do you get this thing to move?”

  “Hellooooo... mechanic here! Or did you forget?” Carol gently pushed him aside and flicked the appropriate switches. Because the lever was probably stuck, she kicked it as hard as she could, and that seemed to do the trick. With a hiss and a whistle, the train lurched forward, and Carol exclaimed, “It's time to chugga chug outta here!”

  As soon as the train was moving, Patrick leaned against the wall and howled with relief. “I can't tell you how good it feels to finally be out of prison... and to be alive, for that matter. Now I just need a bath, a hot meal, a woman and some liquor, and all my needs will be met.”

  “I hope you do get a bath soon,” Josiah heckled his friend. “You look like shit, Pat.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, you look like a pussy!” Patrick countered, dealing a playful smack to the clean-shaven cheek of his friend. “I don't think I've ever seen you without some kind of beard. Not since we were kids. What the hell are you wearing on your arm, anyway?”

  “I'm not wearing anything on my arm.” Josiah exchanged uneasy glances with Carol. Like Josiah, she was bracing herself for the inevitable reaction from his friend. “This is my arm.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  With a heavy-hearted sigh, Josiah unfastened the straps of his mechanical arm and slowly pulled it off, revealing the stump underneath. Patrick's reaction was appropriately gobsmacked.

  “Holy shit, you lost an arm?” Josiah's friend yelped. “How the hell did that happen?”

  “I lost a fight.” Josiah, who was still self-conscious about his missing arm, turned away from Patrick so he couldn't gawk at it. “It happened so fast, too. Every time I think about it, it feels like a nightmare... but then I never wake up.”

  Patrick's lips twisted sympathetically, and his brow pinched with pity. “Damn, man. I'm sorry. That must be a difficult thing to adjust to. I can't imagine.”

  “I won't lie. It has been difficult.” Josiah turned to Carol. He thought she looked sad for him, so he offered her the tiniest of smiles. “Luckily, I have Miss Cassady to cheer me up. She's so damn optimistic, I don't have time to feel sorry for myself.”

  “Shit, you have every right to feel sorry for yourself, Jo,” Patrick said. “If I lost an arm, I'd probably kill myself.”

  “Patrick!” Carol shrilled. “Don't say that!”

  “Well, it's the damn truth. I'd be so miserable, I'd probably just lay down and die.” As his shoulders hopped into a shrug, Patrick leaned toward the window and peered outside. Directing his companions' attention to the two motocarriages that trailed behind them, he calmly added, “And by the way... we're being followed.”

  * * *

  “Father! Father, are you alright? Hey! Deputy Donal... I think he's waking up!”

  When Anton Montgomery regained consciousness, he saw his daughter standing over him in a blue gingham dress. For the first few seconds, he thought he was looking at his departed wife. Gwen always did favor her mother.

  “Gwen... what happened?”

  Deputy Donal knew more about the situation, so he spoke in Gwen's place. “A few minutes ago, a woman named Carol Cassady put everyone to sleep and escaped with Patrick Amberley.”

  “What the hell happened to our snipers on the roof?”

  “Dead,” Donal darkly replied. “Murdered by Josiah Cole.”

  “Damn! I didn't know that boy had it in him.” As Anton clawed his way to his feet, all the bones in his body were snapping and popping, like twigs caught under a boot. Carol's tranquilizer dart had weakened him. “Where's the bastard now?”

  “Josiah Cole or Patrick Amberley?”

  Frustrated by his deputy's useless question, Anton grabbed him by the collar and gave him a rough shake. “All the bastards. Where are they? Where did they go? We've got someone chasing them down, right?”

  “Well... n-no, not yet.” Donal winced as he reported the bad news. “I believe they intend to escape on a train, sir... assuming they haven't done so already.”

  “Bring the motocarriages around, as well as a half-dozen men. We're going after them.” Anton shoved Donal in the necessary direction. “Gwen, go back to the sheriff's office and wait for me there.”

  Gwen, who had been standing silently beside her father, had her eyes fixed on a pulsing vein in Anton's neck. Whenever he got angry, the vein emerged. Judging by its bulge, he was more than angry. He was furious. She tried to calm him down, even though she knew it would be impossible. “Father... these are not bad people. They're my friends. Do you really have to go after them?”

  “You don't make friends with criminals, Gwendolyn.” As he spoke, Anton was squinting against an onslaught of sunlight, so he pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them over his eyes. “And yes, I do have to go after them. Not only is this a gross obstruction of justice... Josiah Cole killed some people. You really think I can let that go unpunished?”

  “He did what he had to do,” Gwen defended her friend. “I saw what happened. Your rooftop snipers were shooting at Carol and Pat. What was he supposed to do... let his friends die?”

  “For such a smart girl, you really can be a dumbass, Gwen.” As soon as he saw the motocarriages heading toward them, Anton reached for his revolver. “You need to figure out which side of the law you want to be on, sweetie. Now... go back to the sheriff's office and wait for me there.”

  “No! I'm going with you!” As her father hopped into the motocarriage's front seat, Gwen defiantly climbed into its interior.

  Over his shoulder, Anton barked at her, “Like hell you are!”

  “I'm going!” Gwen insisted. “I want to make sure nothing happens to my friends!”

  Gwen shared the motocarriage's interior with two of her father's officers, and both were secretly staring at her cleavage. It wasn't their fault, it was Gwen's. She was the one who provided the distraction by intentionally neglecting the top three buttons of her dress, as she often did.

  “Your father's just carrying out the law, Miss Montgomery,” one of the officers offered an unsolicited opinion. “Those friends of yours... if you can really call them that... killed several of our men. That makes this personal.”

  “And your men were trying to kill my friends!” Gwen sharply retorted. “So that makes it personal for me too!”

  “The difference is... your friends are thieves and lawbreakers, miss.”

  “Can you be quiet?” Gwen begged the officer as she turned toward the window. “Please?” When she stuck her head out, she saw Josiah and Carol's train in the distance, far ahead of them. She could also hear snippets of her father's conversation with his deputy.

  “The tracks run through... that'd be a shortcut... take a left up here... we've got the precision cannon in the trunk... we can cut them off at the gorge.”

  Gwen held out a hand and commanded one of the officers, “Give me your monocular!”

  “But Miss Montgomery, I need this for--”

  “Give it!” She demanded, right before she snatched it from his hands. With the monocular over her eyes, she peered through the wind
ow and tried to get a better look at the train. At first, she couldn't see anything, but when her father's motocarriage made a sudden turn, she saw Pat and Carol standing together on the caboose. Pat was pointing a rifle at them, while Carol was encouraging him to lower it. Gwen was hoping for a glimpse of Josiah as well, but he wasn't with them.

  “Goodbye,” Gwen whispered to her fleeing friends. She wanted to feel bitter about being left behind, but she understood why they abandoned her. She was the sheriff's daughter. She was where she belonged. “I'll miss you guys.”

  One motocarriage continued to pursue the train, while her father's attempted to locate a shortcut. Unfortunately, Deputy Donal had a terrible sense of direction, and they soon lost their bearing. After twenty minutes of racing through the desert, Gwen was getting anxious. Since there was no train in sight, she stuck her head through the window and called to her father, “Pa, where are we going?”

  “We ain't going nowhere, Gwen!” hollered Anton, who wrestled with the urge to shove his deputy from the driver's seat. “Would you believe this asshole's gotten us lost?”

  “Oh.” A slight smirk appeared on Gwen's lips. Before her father could see it, she retreated through the window and attempted to suppress her delight. To her, getting lost was good news. Her father's failure was Josiah's success.

  Another twenty minutes passed, and there was still no sign of a train. After nearly an hour of twisting and turning through the desert, there was a loud, strange pop from one of the motocarriage's engines. Deputy Donal immediately stopped to inspect the noise. The engine was fried, so Anton tried to make repairs. While he tinkered, Gwen and the officers climbed out of the carriage and busied themselves in different ways. When he saw his daughter storming into the desert, Anton stopped working and yelled, “Don't wander too far, Gwen!”

  “I'm not!” Gwen halted by a cactus and sat on the ground. If not for the days she traveled with the Coles and Nicky Gunn, she might have been a bit more apprehensive about being stuck in the desert. She didn't even balk at the sight of a scorpion skittering through the sand, even though it was bright red and quite possibly lethal.

  When Anton's repairs took longer than expected, one of her father's officers brought her a drink. Gwen, whose throat was already parched, thanked him profusely. She gulped down the water so fast, a trickle escaped her mouth and scurried down her chin.

  “I hate the desert,” Gwen whispered to herself, hugging her knees to her chest. “I really do. Everything's so... dry and dead.”

  “I think I've almost got it!” her father yelled to one of his companions.

  “Take your time, sir! We don't want to have to stop and make repairs again!”

  As she listened to their inane conversation, Gwen covered her mouth and yawned. She couldn't wait until they were back in Gravestone. She couldn't wait until she was nestled under the blankets in her cozy, soft bed.

  And then it appeared. The soft hiss of steam and the steady hum of engines alerted them to its arrival. An airship in the desert wasn't too terribly uncommon, but ever since Emperor Ju-long's conquest of Santo Feo, all flights had ceased.

  “Red flag...” Gwen whispered as she studied the incoming vessel. “Pa, is that a red flag?”

  “Might be,” Anton answered dismissively. As he leaned over the engine, her father used a tatty bandana to swab the sweat from his forehead. Despite the twinge of uneasiness in his daughter's voice, he paid little attention to the airship that soared above them.

  “Pa, I think that's one of Emperor Ju-long's ships!” Gwen exclaimed. “I think--”

  Before she could finish, the airship opened fire on them.

  Gwen's father, his officers, and the motocarriage were instantly blown to bits.

  Eleven

  As Flynn tiptoed to the chicken coop, he gripped his rifle with both hands. If anyone spotted his theft of eggs, he would be ready to defend himself. Of course, being the gentle thief that he was, he had no plans to kill anyone. If his presence was detected, he would simply hit them over the head with the butt of his gun.

  “Sorry,” Flynn whispered to the first chicken as he reached under her belly to claim her egg. “I'm real sorry about this.” She clucked, pecked and warbled frantically, but in the end, she lost the fight. Her egg was relinquished to Flynn's thieving hand.

  Flynn repeated the process with the next seven chickens, collecting their eggs in a tarnished silver bowl. When he finished, he peeked out of the coop, making sure no one was nearby. Fortunately, the farm house was several acres away, so the risk of being discovered was actually rather slim.

  As he made his way back to Jun, Flynn was accosted by a pair of bleating baby goats. When he saw the kids hopping toward him, eager for his attention, Flynn knew he was doomed. Animals—and baby animals in particular—were his weakness. The goats' floppy ears and wagging tails were too tempting to resist. Seconds later, he was on his knees, holding out his arms to greet them.

  Flynn picked up the tan goat first, and as he cradled her in his arms, he cooed, “Well, aren't you a cutie?” She bleated and licked his cheek, which made him giggle as giddily a schoolgirl. The gray goat wanted attention too, and he let Flynn know by climbing on his lap.

  For the next few minutes, Flynn lost himself in goat-inspired bliss—until he heard Jun hissing his name.

  “Flynn!” She was standing by the fence, wide-eyed and perplexed. “Flynn, what are you doing?”

  “Uhh.” Redness rushed into Flynn's cheeks when he looked down at the goat in his arms. “I'm, uh... I'm playing with goats.” After twenty-four hours on the road with Jun, his ability to speak to her had improved, but he was still a victim of occasional timidity.

  “We need to get out of here, though!” Jun exclaimed. “What if someone sees you out here?”

  “I'm sorry.” Even though he apologized, he didn't move right away. In fact, he nuzzled his cheek against the tan goat's head and stole a secret kiss. A few seconds later, he got up and carried one of the goats to the fence. As he passed the bowl of eggs to Jun, he asked, “Don't you think she's cute?”

  “She? You mean... the goat?”

  “Uh huh.” When Flynn scratched behind her ears, she bleated appreciatively. “All baby animals are cute. I've never understood how anyone could eat lamb or veal.”

  “Me neither,” Jun agreed. Flynn held out the goat, so she gave her a few gentle strokes. “You're a mystery to me, Flynn. The other day, you were killing people, and today... you're playing with baby goats.”

  “Is that strange?”

  “A little bit.”

  Flynn finally put down the kid and hopped over the fence with little effort. Jun was impressed by how easily he made the leap, but she made no comment. As they made their way back to the motocarriage, which was parked in the middle of the desert, lovesickness sparkled in Flynn's dusty blue eyes. He was still thoroughly smitten with Shuchun Jun.

  When they were back at camp, Flynn cracked the eggs into a well-worn skillet he found in the back of the motocarriage. It was hardly a full breakfast, but it was better than nothing. He quickly lit a fire, whisked the yolks, and cooked the scrambled eggs.

  “You're such a skilled cook,” Jun commended him as she watched him tumble the eggs with a spoon, making sure they were thoroughly cooked.

  “It's just eggs, though,” Flynn quietly objected. “They're not difficult to make.”

  “Still, you do it with such ease. Is cooking something you often do?”

  “Well...” His heart still raced every time he spoke to her, but as long as he wasn't looking directly into her eyes, he could get the words out. “My parents died when I was twelve, so I grew up fast. I learned a lot of skills practically overnight.”

  “At least you had Josiah, right?”

  “Yeah.” Flynn raked half of the scrambled eggs into a bowl and presented it to Jun, who ate them with a spoon. It wasn't ideal, but it was the only utensil they could find in the motocarriage. “But he always treated me as an equal, even when I wa
s boy. And I'm glad he did, because that's probably why I'm so independent.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Jun brought a spoonful of egg to her mouth and expelled a breath that was tinged with sadness. When he heard the sigh, Flynn asked, “Are you alright?”

  “I was just... thinking about Josiah. I'm so sorry about what happened to him. It was all because of me, really. If he hadn't come back for me, he would still be alive.”

  “Are you absolutely sure he's dead?” Flynn asked. “Because... unless you had a chance to check him for a pulse, I'm going to keep hoping.”

  Jun chewed and swallowed her eggs before responding. “I didn't check for a pulse.”

  “Then he could still be alive.”

  “His wounds were severe, though. He... lost an arm.”

  “He did?”

  “I saw it fall off.”

  “Well... even then, he could still be alive.” Even though Flynn tried to sound hopeful, he couldn't hide the tearful gloss in his eyes. His brother's fate troubled him greatly. Hoping to nudge the conversation in a new direction, he asked, “What about your family, Jun? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “No. Well... my mother had another daughter before I was born, but she was stillborn. I always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling.” Jun finished her eggs and set the bowl aside. Flynn, who was eating straight from the skillet, had finished long ago. “My father died when I was a little girl, so I know what it's like to lose a parent too.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “It's okay. I barely knew him,” Jun confessed. “In fact, I only have one vivid memory of him. The rest is really hazy.”

  “What's the one thing you remember about him?” asked Flynn, hoping the question wasn't too intrusive. Her smile broadened, so he assumed she didn't mind.

  Jun sat up straighter and took a deep breath before telling the story. “It's kind of silly, but I think about it a lot. My father collected a huge bundle of peonies for my mother on her birthday. It was early in the morning, just after the sunrise, and I was sitting at the bottom of a hill, watching him gather the flowers. With the sunlight shining behind him, I could only see a silhouette of his body. I remember thinking he looked big... strong. I don't know if he really was big, or if I was really small by comparison... but I like to think he was big. In my mind, I remember him as this rugged, tough man with a huge bundle of flowers in his hands. So... to this day, that's always been a fantasy of mine. One day, I want my beau to climb a petal-covered hillside and collect the biggest bunch of flowers I've ever seen.”