by Brook Wilder
In a last-ditch effort, Hatchet waved towards the uniformed man, drawing the sheriff’s attention.
“I’ll distract them!” He had to shout to be heard over the sound of gun shots.
“Don’t be an idiot, son!” Sheriff Donohue yelled back, ducking as another round was fired.
“Keep up the fire, keep them pinned!” Hatchet said before he scrambled out from behind the shrubbery.
“Hey, over here, you assholes!” Hatchet got out the words as he ran towards the porch, but then a tearing pain ripped through his shoulder. He was hit. A moment later he heard a cry as one the deputies was hit and watched the man slump to the ground near the front door.
“Motherfucker!” Hatchet grabbed his arm and his hand came away wet with blood. He couldn’t go that way. He had to figure out something else.
He turned around, but he was too late. Mad Dog had snuck around behind him somehow and, before he could react, the bald man threw a right hook that hit him square in the jaw and sent Hatchet flying towards the ground. Stars exploded behind his eyes and it took him a long moment to get enough breath back to push himself up onto his knees.
Hatchet groaned as pain reverberated through his head, through his shoulder, through every single part of him, and it wasn’t until he blinked open his eyes and his vision cleared that he saw just how dire the situation had become.
“Fuck.” He bit off the curse, spitting out a mouthful of dirt and blood as he glared up at Mad Dog and the barrel of the gun that was pointed right in the middle of his forehead. This is it, Hatchet thought to himself. This is the end, and I never got a chance to tell Elsie that I love her. For some reason, that seemed like the biggest travesty of this whole thing. But it was too late for regrets. It was too late for anything at all.
“Go to hell, you fat, ugly, bloated son of a bi…” The deafening bang of a single gunshot echoed through the air, cutting off the rest of his words.
***
Elsie’s hands were shaking so badly she was afraid to move her finger anywhere near the trigger again. Shock filled her as the smoke in the air cleared and she was left looking at Mad Dog’s lifeless body.
The sheriff rushed forward as the deputies rounded up and cuffed the rest of Mad Dog’s thugs, the fight going out of them now that their leader was dead. Sheriff Donohue knelt beside the downed man, pressing two fingers to the side of his neck to feel for a pulse that Elsie knew he would never find.
She still wasn’t totally sure what had happened. One moment she’d been in her bedroom, still full of bliss, when she’d heard the sharp sound of gunshots exploding just outside. Elsie had barely stopped to throw on her clothes before rushing down the stairs. She had walked into a scene of pure chaos.
And then she’ seen him; she’d seen Hatchet kneeling in the dirt with Mad Dog standing in front of him, a gun pointed straight at Hatchet’s head. And then it was like pure instinct had taken over. As fear filled her, fear for the man that she loved, Elsie had just found herself moving. At first, she hadn’t even known what she was doing. But, as she watched, her hand had reached out towards the cop that lay motionless on the ground, reaching for the gun that he’d dropped to the dirt next to him, and she had known.
Her fingers had closed tight around the handle. She’d pivoted and aimed straight at Mad Dog and, as steady as a steel iron, she’d pulled the trigger and the bullet had shot true. It had all happened quicker than the blink of an eye, and she wasn’t the only one in shock as the gunfight came to an abrupt end.
Elsie jumped as a pair of hands touched hers and she found herself looking into Hatchet’s dark, questioning gaze.
“Why don’t I just take this gun, baby?” he muttered softly. It took all of her effort to get her fingers to uncurl from where they had frozen on the deadly thing.
“Yeah,” Elsie whispered weakly. Hatchet slowly took the gun, handing it without a word to the sheriff, before turning back to her. He took one look at her face before he wrapped his arms tightly around her and held her close.
His warmth started to eat through some of the cold shock that held her frozen, and Elsie shook even harder. But she wrapped her arms even tighter around Hatchet. And damned if she was about to let go, not after she had come so close to losing him.
“Damn you, Hatchet. He could have killed you,” Elsie said tearfully, the image of Mad Dog’s gun pointed straight at his head seared forever into her memory. But Hatchet just barked a hoarse laugh.
“Not with you around.” Hatchet pulled her in even closer, nuzzling his face against her hair, and his next whisper almost undid her. “I love you so much, Elsie. You save my life. Not just today. But every single day to come. You’ve saved me.”
The tears dripped unheeded now down her cheek as she looked up at him, meeting his dark gaze and seeing the truth of his words reflected back at her in the depths of his eyes.
“I… I love you too, you big idiot. Just promise me you won’t get shot at again, alright?” Elsie whispered the words, meaning every single one, and he just smiled down at her.
“I’ll do my best, I promise you that. And I promise that I will love you for as long as you want me.”
They stared at each other for a long time, the look broken only by a soft, tear-stained kiss.
Chapter 23
The sunshine turned everything golden as Hatchet used a slight pressure from his knees to get his horse moving in the direction he wanted. They had just finished putting in the last of the white post fencing around the south end of the fields the day before, and he was just checking to make sure that they hadn’t moved too much after a night of wind and storms.
The afternoon was getting warmer by the minute, chasing away the last of the few remaining clouds from the night before and casting a shimmering glow over fields that waved cheerily in the slight breeze. Or maybe that’s just those rose-colored glasses that Jackrabbit says I’ve been wearing for the past six months.
It was hard to believe that it had been nearly half a year since everything had gone down with Mad Dog. Since then Hatchet had taken all of his savings and bought a small ranch of his own. With the help of the Roadburners and, surprisingly, Elsie’s father.
His relationship with Mark McLaurel was still tense, but he was working on it for Elsie’s sake. It was obvious that she loved the old man, despite how often they disagreed on things, and he knew it was important for her that they get along. At least he didn’t hate the man as much as he used to. He didn’t feel a lot of the things that he used to – the rage, the anger, and the despair. He knew it was all because of Elsie. She’d changed his life, and it was all for the better.
Hatchet clicked softly to his horse to keep him moving, glancing over at the small herd of cattle that he was keeping an eye on, and just breathed in deep of the fresh air. For the first time in a long time, in as long as he could remember really, he finally felt free. At peace. Finally able to lay all the anger and rage to rest. And once again, he laid those changes all at Elsie’s feet. She’d changed him. His whole life was better for having her in it.
A tiny brown sparrow shot up from a thicket of tall grass. Hatchet watched it fly around in loops and circles overhead with a profound sense of happiness.
When he closed his eyes, it was so easy to remember that time in the jail cell, that tiny, claustrophobic box, where he had turned to daydreams to hold on to his sanity. He had dreamed of open fields and a little farm of his own. And he had dreamed of Elsie. And now it seemed that all his dreams were coming true. Hatchet didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it, but he knew damn well that he would hold on to it with both hands for as long as he could.
He blinked open his eyes once more, fantasy merging with reality, as he kneed the horse forward once more, tugging the reins to get them moving back towards the house and away from the fence.
He was halfway to the small, white-washed farmhouse when he spotted something moving in the tall grass that made up the grazing fields. Hatchet slowed, reining his horse closer
to get a better look at what it was.
Hatchet dropped down from the back of his dark brown stallion. With a reassuring click of his tongue he fed the horse a few of the sugar cubes he kept in his pocket to before walking the few paces to where the disturbance was.
A sweet peal of laughter reached his ears and had a goofy, lop-sided grin drawing across his face as he tramped to its source. He just stood there for a long moment, taking in the picturesque scene and wondering how in the hell he’d got so lucky.
Elsie was kneeling in the grass, not noticing the bright green stains that tinged the hem of her white dress, and she was still giggling as the baby calf she’d been playing with wobbled forward on still unsteady legs, licking at her cheek.
Hatchet was filled with awe as he watched her, saw the way she connected with the young calf. It wasn’t the first time he’d witnessed her particular magic. She had a way with animals that he’d never seen before, and since she’d started taking veterinary classes she’d gained the knowledge to heal as well.
This particular calf had been born just a week before. It had been a difficult birth, but Elsie had been there the whole way to bring the tiny animal out into the world happy and healthy. He could see that it was what she was meant to do, even if her daddy still grumbled now and then about it.
Hatchet laughed along with Elsie as the calf danced away at the call of his mother, and the sound finally drew her attention.
“How long have you been standing there?” she asked, a brilliant smile curling up her rosebud lips and making her eyes look like sapphires in the sunlight.
A sudden realization crashed into him with all the force of a speeding train.
He wanted to spend the rest of his like with her, just like this. To spend every moment basking in her smile, in her laughter, in the love that shone like a beacon from her bright blue eyes.
Without a second thought, he walked over to her, dropping to one knee in the soft dirt beside her, and took her hands in his. Elsie was still smiling up at him, a question swirling in the depths of her eyes, but he was the one who asked first.
“Elsie Grace McLaurel, I know I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve this. But I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to try to. I swear I will love you until my last breath.” He found it hard to even inhale, and his nerves were suddenly thick. “Elsie, will you make me the happiest man in the world by agreeing to marry me and face this world together?”
She stared at him in silence for so long he was almost afraid she wasn’t going to answer his question. But then she was laughing and crying, throwing herself in his arms and raining kisses across his cheek in between her answer.
“Yes. Yes. Yes! I will marry you.” Elsie looked up at him, tears of joy swimming in her eyes. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
He stared down at her, so happy that he felt like he was about to burst apart in a million pieces and just float away on the breeze.
“I love you, too, Elsie,” he whispered against her lips, so soft and gentle and so full of tenderness that it had moisture stinging the corners of his eyes.
But he didn’t care as he claimed them. It didn’t matter. Only she did. Slowly, Hatchet laid her back on the bed of wildflowers, still kissing her, his touch running over her body like he couldn’t get enough of her.
He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her, and he was determined to prove just how grateful he really was. His grin was all sin as he stared down at her flushed face, his hand expertly undoing the buttons of her jeans.
Starting right now.
Epilogue
“Well, it looks like congratulations are in order.” Jackrabbit held out his hand to his oldest, dearest friend who, in his honest opinion, had just gone and done the worst thing anyone could ever possibly do. Which was, of course, to go and get himself tied to one person for the rest of his life in holy wedlock. Marriage, Jackrabbit thought, is worse than any prison sentence.
But he kept those particular thoughts to himself, forcing a wide grin on his face as Hatchet took his hand, shaking it wildly with a dazed look in his eyes as if he’d been star struck. The cause of that look was, of course, none other than Elsie fucking McLaurel.
Jackrabbit still had to shake his head at the oddness of it all. Of all the gorgeous, eligible women in the word, his friend had gone and fallen for the only daughter of the man he hated most in the world. Or at least had hated.
By the look of happy laughter on old man McLaurel’s face as he danced with his daughter on the dance floor, both men had changed their opinions of each other. Somewhat anyways. It certainly had helped that Mark McLaurel had fronted Hatchet enough money to get his own little ranch in the country.
It didn’t make a lick of sense to Jackrabbit, but as long as his friend was happy that was all that mattered, he supposed. No, you would never find him rusticating on some washed up old farm, digging in the dirt and stomping around cow shit all day. No sirree bob. Not him.
He preferred fast motorcycles and the open road. The purr of the bike beneath him and the feeling of pure freedom as the wind whipped past him, drowning out the whole world and every shitty thing in it.
Jackrabbit took a long pull from his tumbler full of whiskey, Hatchet still shaking his other hand like a madman, and he nearly rolled his eyes at his friend. Yep, there was no doubt about it. He was a goner. It was obvious he’d completely lost it as soon as the words, ‘I do,’ had passed his lips. But Jackrabbit just kept that smile plastered on his lips and sent a silent prayer of thanks to the god of alcohol for the open bar.
“Thanks, Rabbit. Isn’t it amazing?” Hatchet said, grinning from ear to ear as he finally released his hand from the death grip it had been captured in. Jackrabbit just nodded, saluting him with his nearly empty glass.
“Sure, man, sure. Better you than me, that’s all I have to say.” Jackrabbit threw in another wide grin to soften the words, but he meant them wholeheartedly. The thought of being tied down like that had a cold shudder moving through him.
Hatchet let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Just you wait, Rabbit. It’ll happen to you too one day. When you meet the right girl, then you’ll know.”
Jackrabbit’s grin slid into a sour grimace before bouncing back again, and he raised his glass once more. “Well, here’s to me never finding the right girl.” He downed the last of his whiskey in one long gulp and he savored the burn that wiped out the bad taste that the conversation had left in his mouth.
His friend just laughed before thankfully changing the subject.
“So, I hear I’m not the only one who deserves congratulating,” Hatchet said with a sideways glance towards him.
Jackrabbit looked down at the toes of his dust-stained boots, pride filling him up, and when he looked back at Hatchet he was standing a little straighter.
“After all the shit that went down with Mad Dog, the crew must have thought they wanted, oh, I don’t know, not a psychotic maniac in charge of the Roadburners. It was a unanimous vote.” Jackrabbit pointed to the new patch that graced the back of his black leather jacket and Hatchet whistled appreciatively.
“President,” he said softly. “President John Jackrabbit Dawes. Nearly boggles the mind. It’s a good thing they don’t know you like I do, otherwise…” Hatchet cut off with a bark of laughter as Jackrabbit gave him a none-too-gentle shove and a glower. His friend held up his hands in a gesture of mock innocence.
“I’m kidding, man. I’m just kidding. They picked the best leader any man could wish for. I know. They’re lucky to have you.”
Jackrabbit had to swallow hard at the compliment and the rough emotion it suddenly had blocking his throat.
“Thanks man,” Rabbit finally forced out. “But what about you? You know you can come back to the crew whenever you want. Open invitation. Whenever you’re done hoeing vegetables and shoveling cow shit or whatever it is you’re doing out there.”
Hatchet glanced over at the dance floor where Elsie was still dan
cing, laughing. Hell, even from there, Jackrabbit could see she practically fucking glowed with happiness. There was a goofy smile on his friend’s face when he finally turned back to him.
“No, Rabbit, I think I’m done with the Roadburners. I’ve got a new life now. I’m happy here, you know?”
Not really, the thought passed through Jackrabbit’s mind so fast he couldn’t stop it. Have I ever really been happy? But then he shook his head as if to dislodge the thought altogether, his grin firmly in place once more.
“Yeah. I get it,” Jackrabbit lied. “Hey, and I’m happy for you, man. I really am. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.” His grin dimmed a little bit as he remembered the news he’d received just earlier that day. “Listen, though, make sure you keep your head down and your eyes open.”