Billie the Kid: The Sky Fire Chronicles Book 1

by Paul Summerhayes

  “Three murdered, not four,” said Billie, surprised how far her voice carried.

  Bartlett’s eyes locked with Billie and he tapped the brim of his hat. “My apologies. Three murdered.” He took a moment to let his statement sink in. “Who amongst you will ride with me today and bring these men to justice? No, these mutants. Criminals cannot be allowed to ride into our town in broad daylight and gun down innocent people and take a much-loved son…not in our town. Not today, or any other day will I allow that to happen. Who’s with me?”

  Many, wouldn’t make eye contact with the sheriff, people were scared. No one wanted to go up against mutants.

  “They’re devils!” someone shouted. It sounded like the preacher’s wife.

  “They can’t be killed,” said a man. “One was shot and should’ve died. But he rode out of town with the others.”

  The crowd erupted into several discussions on the types of mutants, how the mutant survived the gun shot and the best ways to kill them.

  “I’ll go,” Billie muttered, but again her voice carried throughout the crowd. People stopped talking and all eyes fell on her. She shifted her weight self-consciously.

  “What are you doing?” whispered Joseph. “You agreed you would look after mother.”

  “No. You did,” she replied.

  Bartlett looked at Billie and chuckled. “Sorry, son, but you’re a little young.”

  “Hey! I’m a girl.”

  The crowd laughed and the tension broke. Alice sniggered and Billie shot her a dirty look.

  Albert Stein didn’t laugh or even crack a smile. He rolled his eyes and waited patiently—this was turning into a circus.

  “Sorry, miss,” said the sheriff. “I meant no disrespect.” He waved the crowd down and they eventually stopped laughing. “All right, all right. Anyone else?”

  “I will go with you,” said Joseph, raising an arm.

  “Good, our first volunteer,” said Bartlett. “Who else?”

  The crowd went silent again and people glanced around at their neighbors. It was obvious, no one wanted to go hunting mutants. They weren’t skilled fighters, they were miners, shopkeepers and tradesmen.

  After a minute, Stein spoke. “Many of you know me…and know my son, Eddie. He’s only a child. Don’t blame him for any grievance you have with me. Please bring him back to me, he’s all I have…and I’ll...I’ll pay fifty dollars bounty for each dead mutant’s head.”

  “You miserable prick!” shouted someone from the crowd.

  “All right, all right. Fifty dollars to anyone that joins the posse and one hundred dollars cash for each one of these men brought back…dead or alive.” Stein had everyone’s attention now. “I’ll pay cash on your return. Who’s interested?”

  “Yeah,” said a tall, scruffy looking man. He leaned against a horse-hitching rail. “Count me in.”

  Billie hadn’t seen this man before. His clothes and hair were dirty and unkempt. He looked like a drifter, someone used to trouble. Two short-bladed swords hung in worn scabbards from his belt.

  “Good. Who else needs the money?” The fat manager scanned the crowd, picking out a large bearded man standing at the back. “You. Johnson, isn’t it? You interested?”

  “The name’s Campbell,” said the burly man with a thick accent. He was the blacksmith, a Scotsman. “I guess I’ll go,” said the big man.

  “Anyone else?” asked Bartlett.

  “I’ll go,” said a young, well-dressed man.

  Someone nearby sucked in a breath. Billie didn’t recognize him, but he looked like he came from a wealthy family. He wore a quality brown suit and matching bowler hat. He didn’t appear to carry any weapons, which was unusual. Then someone muttered his name. Karl Stein. He was the exchange manager’s oldest son. Bartlett glanced at Stein Senior, looking for a reaction and so did the crowd.

  “So be it…” said Albert Stein, his face glistened with sweat. He appeared disappointed with his son’s choice, but he said no more.

  “I’ll be in the Law Office if anyone changes their mind,” said Bartlett, after it looked like no one else would volunteer. “Grab your gear. We leave in an hour.”

  Chapter 5

  Catherine’s chest slowly rose and fell, her breath coming in shallow wheezes. Billie sat on the bed gazing helplessly at her mother. She was torn. Her brother and mother both needed her, although Joseph would never admit it.

  Joseph wasn’t a hardened gunman. He showed no interest in guns before. She would be surprised if he could hurt anything, man or animal. How was he going to kill the men responsible for murdering their stepfather?

  Chasing mutants across the wasteland…he’ll get himself killed. I can’t let happen.

  “I love you, Mom, but I must go with Joey,” Billie whispered, leaning in close to her mother. “You know what he’s like. He needs someone to look out for him and I am the only one he has now. And I can’t lose anyone else…I’ll bring him back safely and then we’ll get away from this terrible place.”

  Billie held a folded piece of paper addressed to her mother and placed it on the table beside the bed. If she woke, Billie hoped it would explain where they were. She stood and put on her father’s old battered hat and took one last look at her sleeping mother.

  God, keep her safe.

  Catherine hadn’t moved an inch since yesterday and her skin looked pale and lifeless—the sight tore at Billie’s heart and she could feel the tears welling up. Turning from her mother, she left before the grief became too much.

  Suck it up, Joey needs me.

  Billie marched across the street toward her brother and the of group men standing in front of the sheriff’s office. Joseph rolled his eyes at her approach and moved forward to intercept her, grabbing her arm and pulling her up.

  “What are you doing?” he said under his breath. “You’re embarrassing me.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you’re not. I don’t need my little sister getting in the way.”

  “Take your hand off me, Joseph Antrim, or I’ll scream. Will that be embarrassing enough for you?”

  Joseph released her arm. “Let’s talk about this.”

  “Yeah, there’s plenty of time on our long ride.” Billie didn’t wait for his answer, she strode to the rest of the posse.

  Sheriff Bartlett was talking with Campbell the blacksmith, the exchange manager’s son, Karl Stein and the scruffy swordsman. The conversation stopped as she approached. Joseph came up behind her placing a hand on her shoulder, which she shrugged off with a threatening glare.

  “Who’s this kid?” the scruffy swordsman asked.

  “Relax, Carter,” Bartlett said, dropping his hand on the swordsman’s shoulder. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Billie, Billie Bonney, and I’m coming with you.”

  “Oh, no you ain’t,” replied Bartlett.

  “I can ride and shoot and…I want revenge for my family.”

  “Hmm,” said Bartlett, sizing Billie up. She was short, but there was no denying she had spirit. “This ain’t a school outing, kid. And besides, I can’t legally deputize a child anyway. How old are you, thirteen, fourteen?”

  “I’m sixteen!”

  Carter snickered. “This is getting better by the minute.”

  “Sixteen?” asked Bartlett, ignoring the swordsman’s laughter.

  “I-I’m just a little short.”

  “Let’s go,” Carter said. “They’re more than twelve hours ahead of us now and the trail and my reward money are getting colder by the minute.”

  Bartlett turned his attention to Joseph. “You got five minutes to tie her up somewhere or we’ll leave both of you behind—”

  “I’ll just follow,” she said, clenching her fists. “Yesterday, my stepfather was murdered and my mother…I have a right to see these men dead!”

  “For heaven’s sake, Sheriff, let the little brat come,” said Carter. “She can cook.”

  “All right then, but she’s your re
sponsibility,” Bartlett said to Joseph. “If she slows us down, I’ll leave both of you behind.”

  Joseph didn’t look happy with the sheriff’s decision, but said nothing.

  “Welcome aboard, kid,” Carter said, grinning. Billie didn’t like the way he looked at her. She had seen the old miners looking at girls that way before and it made her uncomfortable.

  Creep!

  “Mr. Stein is supplying us with horses, so get your gear and let’s mount up. I wired the Agency and we’ll meet up with the Justice Marshals at the Outpost. I think we’ll need the extra help out in the wasteland.”

  “Shit. Those marshals are just as likely to kill us as well as the mutants,” said Carter. “They’ve got a bad reputation.”

  “You got something to hide?” asked Karl Stein.

  “Not me, rich boy.”

  “You ain’t going to cause me trouble are you, Carter?” asked the sheriff.

  “No, sir. It’s just some say the marshals are mutants. And the worst type.”

  “I would keep those thoughts to yourself if I was you.”

  “Don’t worry, Sheriff, I’ll be keeping my distance from them.”

  Sheriff Bartlett glanced up and down the empty street. “Looks like no one else is volunteering. Let’s mount up.”

  “Hey, ain’t you going to deputize us?” asked Carter.

  “You’re deputized. Now let’s go.”

  The men moved to sturdy desert horses hitched nearby and threw on their saddle bags. A desert horse was a small, stocky animal bred to survive long periods without water like a camel. There were five of them and counting Billie, the posse numbered six.

  Joseph mounted a bay horse and looked down at his sister. “I’m sorry, Billie. There’s not enough horses.”

  “I can ride with you.”

  “Two on a horse will kill it out in the wasteland,” said Bartlett. “You better find a horse real quick, kid, and catch up with us. We’re heading south to the Outpost, but we won’t wait for you. You better be there before we leave.” The sheriff and the others turned their horses, heading south.

  “I’m sorry, Billie,” Joseph said. “It’s safer if you stay here.” He spurred his mount, throwing dust into the air and quickly caught up to the others.

  Joey! How could you?

  “I’ll follow!” she shouted, but no one heard her. “Now, where will I find a horse?”

  A wind gust picked up, blowing dust into Billie’s face as she sprinted to the stables behind the saloon. Without stopping, she ran through the open doors—but all the stalls were empty and the stable hand wasn’t around.

  Shit! The posse must have every horse in town. What now?

  Our mule!

  Billie sprinted back into the main street and crossed to the general store. No one paid her any attention as she rounded the rear of the building to where they left their wagon yesterday. The old mule was unhitched from their covered wagon and tied to a hitching rail. She climbed into the wagon, grabbed a blanket and then jumped out and threw it over the beast’s back. They didn’t own a saddle—a blanket would have to do.

  Now what? Food. Water.

  Rummaging through the wagon, Billie threw her flute, a few tins of food and two water canteens into a pack. In a chest, she found Harrison’s old short-barrelled revolver. It was ancient looking, but it was the only weapon they owned. She thrust a box of steel-tipped bullets into a pocket and pushed the gun into her belt. Grabbing the pack, she climbed out of the wagon—she was as ready as she could be.

  Untying the mule, she led it around to the main street. The old beast didn’t seem to understand her urgency and plodded along at its own speed. Come on, old girl. Faster! She climbed onto its back, holding on to the reins and clamping her legs around its stout body. It wasn’t going to be comfortable or a stable way of travelling, but it was all she had. After several prods in the ribs, the mule trudged forward, turning its head in the direction her brother and the others took.

  Billie swore. They left twenty minutes ago and the mule wasn’t the fastest. She had to catch up before they left the Outpost as she had no idea which direction they were planning on going. She only guessed the Outpost was many miles from Deepwell.

  Chapter 6

  The blistering sun beat down on Billie’s back, sucking the energy from her thin body. The hot air dried out her mouth just a little more with each breath. A bandana covered her nose and mouth and gave her some relief from the dust and heat, but she was still thirsty. Anyone living in out here knew to conserve water, regardless of how near or far you thought your next drink was. Plan for the worst, the wise warned.

  How much further?

  Billie surveyed the landscape. It was mid-afternoon and heat shimmered off its flat land, distorting the road ahead. The desolate landscape and the road were devoid of life. The further south she travelled, the more the vegetation became stunted and deformed. It was like the cracked ground couldn’t support more than the hardiest of life and even that was stunted. The loneliness of this land weighed on her and she was starting to regret leaving town.

  Maybe Joey was right. I should’ve stayed with mom.

  This was the furthest south Billie had travelled. She had never been past Harrison’s mine before and she passed that hours ago. How far was this Outpost? All she knew was it was somewhere on this road. Hopefully, it was less than a day’s journey. She only had enough water for a day or two and food for a few more.

  I wish the old girl was faster, but it’s no use pushing her. I don’t want to be stranded here.

  These desert breed mules were truly wondrous animals. Slow, strong and had the stamina to keep going under most situations. This old mule had been in Billie’s family for as long as she could remember. Harrison bought it when he first brought Catherine out here, all those years ago.

  Without stopping, Billie lowered her bandana from her mouth and took a swig of water from a canteen. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling her dry, cracked lips. The water was warm, but tasted good going down, but it hardly quenched her thirst. Her thoughts never strayed far from water as she plodded along and she found herself daydreaming about drinking her fill when she got to the Outpost.

  Throughout the afternoon the mule trudged on, uncomplaining. By the time the sun dipped down on the western horizon, Billie decided it was time to stop. Her rump and legs were sore and her back was stiff. She pulled on the reins and the mule came to a stop. Sliding off the animal’s back, she was relieved when the blood flooded back into her stiff joints.

  “No offense, mule, but it’s good to be on my own feet again.”

  The mule looked at her blankly and she rubbed its long nose. Billie led it into the shade of a small pinnacle of boulders nearby and exhausted, she flopped back against the smooth rocks and closed her eyes. Travelling at night would be cooler, but she could wander off the trail and get lost, or ride into a ravine. Cooler also meant more dangerous.

  A short rest. A few minutes only.

  She couldn’t afford any delays. Joseph thought her safe in town and wouldn’t wait for her at the Outpost. He would think she was looking after their mother—he should know better. She brooded on what had happened, her hatred for these men was growing. They had destroyed her family and the life she had. They would pay for what they did.

  An eye for an eye…

  The heat made Billie drowsy and she dozed against the rock, until the mule moved, tugging on the reins held loosely in her hand. Her eyes flicked open, she was awake. The desert was still and silent and not even a faint breeze stirred the dust.

  Something felt wrong.

  The mule rotated its ears, trying to catch the smallest sound. It adjusted its weight from one foot to another. It, too, sensed something. Billie held her breath and listened, but she heard nothing but the blood pulsing in her ears.

  Just my imagination, she thought, rubbing the mule’s nose.

  Billie surveyed the flat landscape, but nothing moved under the scorching
sun. This wasn’t the wasteland yet, she was still in the fringe country—the desert borderlands. Plants and animals were scarce here, unlike the wasteland where nothing grew or could live long. That must have been miles from her current location.

  The wasteland, where the mutants come from—twisted and altered by its harsh conditions. The preacher’s wife said the mutated were cursed by God and in league with demons. Others said the Sky Fires left something in the soil, something that corrupted all life that came in contact with it. Who knew for sure? Not Billie, she was too young to remember the fire raining down from the heavens and the infernos that followed. By all accounts, it sounded like hell on earth. Everything burned—rivers, plants, animals, towns…and people. Whatever the truth, the wasteland was somewhere she definitely didn’t want to go.

  “What is it, girl?” She scanned the desert, but nothing moved. There were just the lengthening shadows created by the sinking sun. “Let’s go.”

  Billie tugged the reins to lead the mule back onto the road when a dark shape leapt off the boulders above her, landing in front of her. The mule whinnied in fear, knocking Billie aside as it suddenly backed up. She stumbled and tripped over, falling face first into the dust.

  Shit!

  The air brushed Billie’s cheek as something leapt passed her, quickly followed by the mule’s screams. It was a horrible, mournful cry of an animal in pain. Sitting up, she saw the frightened mule sprinting down the road—it was running for its life and covered almost forty yards before it collapsed into a pile of fur and legs, throwing a cloud of dust into the air. There were several dark shapes clinging to its neck and sides as it collapsed.

  After many long seconds the dust settled, revealing the mule laying sprawled on its side, a back leg kicking weakly in the air.

  No! Billie scrambled back in panic, slamming into the boulders.

  Several dog-like shapes were attached to the mule. The small animals shook their heads, but remained firmly clamped on. The mule screamed again, weaker than before and then it fell silent when a dog latched onto its throat.