“Don’t do it,” I begged. “Andy, I’m your friend. Leave her be. Please.”
“You ain’t my friend,” he said. “You an old fool is what you is.”
He walked away.
“Andy! Andy! No, leave her be. Leave her be!”
He was headed for Doolin’s horse. I tried ta move but the pain was so much it made me scream and I saw colorful stars fore me. I saw the bow. I started ta crawl over there. My legs were almost useless and ever’ little movement shot agony through me. I dug my fingers inta the sand and crawled over, pullin’ myself up. I got the bow and I got an arrow. I pulled myself up ta a sittin’ position, lightheaded and sweatin’. The sweat was pourin’ outta me like rain and it was stingin’ my eyes.
I pulled back on the bow. I kept my arm steady and took in a deep breath and I let go…and missed. The arrow went wide by bout five feet.
Andy saw it and turned ta me. He shook his head, and began loadin’ the pistol. I took nother arrow. I placed it in the bow and pulled back. I held it by my cheek, feelin’ the tension in my arms.
“Lord, let me hit it,” I whispered.
I let go.
The arrow flew through the air and missed Andy by almost three feet. It went past him and hit its target: Doolin’s horse. It hit it in the neck and went straight through. The horse neighed and kicked and started runnin’ fore it collapsed onta its side. It was still kickin’ but softly now as blood was drainin’ from its body from the artery I’d severed.
Andy looked ta me. He saw my horse and ran over ta it. He mounted and the horse refused to move and then toppled over.
“No!” he screamed, seein’ the leg.
Now it was my turn ta laugh. “We both die here together you sumbitch.”
“No, no! Fucking whore’s cunt. No!”
“You ran your horse down, didn’t ya?” I said, a grin comin’ over my face. “How many times I told ya ta slow down and think?”
He stormed up ta me, loadin’ the pistol. As he got near he kicked the bow outta my hand and placed the pistol against my forehead.
“One thing, Andy.”
“What’s that?” he spit.
“I’ll see you in hell.”
I thrust up with the arrow I had tucked close ta my leg. The tip went inta his eye socket all the way up ta the shaft. He shrieked and spun round. He tried ta pull it out but the pain was too much and so he spun again, in a panic, and tripped over himself. He lay on the ground cryin’, lookin’ up ta the sky, pullin’ on the arrow tryin’ ta get it out. The Colt dropped outta his hand. I started comin’ over ta it.
“I’ll gut you you fucking cockroach. I’m gonna tear the cunt outta Betty.”
I grabbed hold a the pistol and took aim.
“You ain’t gonna do nothin’ but die, boy.”
“Fuck you!”
I fired. Part a his head flew off, like a watermelon that had a rock thrown at it. I fired again and hit him in the throat and warm blood spattered over my face. I looked at him, his one eye starin’ up at me, and I threw the pistol down.
I lay back, starin’ at the sky that was goin’ from a dark gray ta black as the water started drippin’ down and hittin’ my skin.
CHAPTER 38
Don’t know when I passed out but I do know when I woke up. I was layin’ in my bed in the upstairs bedroom with Betty sittin’ there next ta me. I didn’t feel no pain, didn’t feel much a anythin’ really, cept a warmth in my belly. I reached over and held her hand and her face lit up like she seen heaven itself.
“Where…”
“Don’t talk,” she said. “You’ve been unconscious. Doc Stevens had to do surgery to remove those arrowheads.”
I looked down ta the bandages round my legs and chest. “I don’t remember what happened.”
“It was two young Apache boys. They brought you in. They said somethin’ about it but nobody here speaks Apache so I don’t know what it was. Doc Stevens thought they just found you in the desert and brought you back to us.”
She took a damp rag and dabbed at my forehead and neck with it.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through cause a me, Betty. I’m so sorry.”
She smiled as tears was rollin’ down her cheeks and she bent down and kissed me. “You got nothin’ to be sorry about Jesse Smith. You lie back now and rest. Now that you’re up I made some broth for you to gain your strength back. I’ll go get it.”
She went ta rise and I didn’t let go of her hand.
“I’m goin’ after her,” I said.
By the look a her eyes, I didn’t need ta explain no further.
“You already did everything you could, Jesse.”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it. I looked for a year. Not even a year. And then gave up and ran. I ran so far I got all the way cross the country. Just like I run from the war. I ain’t never stopped runnin’ since that day. Well I ain’t runnin’ from her no more. I’m goin’ out and I’m gonna find her, Betty. No matter how long it takes.”
She kissed me again and then kissed my hand. “I’ll go get that broth.”
Fore she was out the door I said, “Betty…I love you.”
“I know you do.”
EPILOGUE
The woman stepped out of the print shop and wiped her brow. She had ink on her fingers and in the Manhattan noonday sun it dried so quickly it would take her an hour to wash it off. She exhaled and looked up at the clear sky and listened to the horse and buggies that were rattling up the road. Surrounded by people, she felt alone and didn’t remember why she came to the city in the first place.
The streets were so crowded she was nearly run over several times and finally decided to cut through an alley behind an office building and head for her small room at the flophouse. There was a brutal insect infestation and it got so hot in the summers you could strip down and open all the windows and you’d still be boiling. It got so cold in the winters that you could layer yourself with quilts and blankets and it wouldn’t even be enough to stop your shivering. But it was a roof over her head. She saw many young women her age on the streets selling their bodies and she was grateful to Mr. Peterson for giving her the job at the print shop.
She stopped briefly at a pond that was on the way back and watched some children chasing a few geese and ducks. One duck turned and tried to bite a child and the father picked up a stone and threw it at it to the delight of the child.
She walked up to the water and looked at her reflection. Appearing much older than she remembered, she lightly touched her face and ran her fingers through her hair. She exhaled and continued on.
The flophouse was an old building of wood and brick and it always had a crowd gathered in front. Today it was three women and two men that she knew who lived there and they nodded to her and she smiled as she walked past them. She could smell the cheap homemade whiskey on their breaths and her heart went out to them. She had been there once herself and for a long time. She didn’t feel like she had had a childhood because she spent it on the streets in a drunken haze…and now she didn’t even know why.
If only, she thought, you could have youth with the wisdom that came with age. Youth was wasted on the young, whoever said that got it right. She knew that now.
She headed up the stairs and down the hall. Her room was on the right and another hallway was behind her. She put her key in the lock.
“Hello darlin’.”
She gasped, startled, and turned toward the voice. A man stood before her, leaning on a cane. He had gray hair and a weathered face, almost leathery from too much sun and wind. A warm smile was on his lips and she was about to ask who he was when she stopped and her keys fell out of her hand.
“Daddy?”
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BY VICTOR METHOS
Thrillers
Diary of an Assassin
Black Sky (A Mystery-Thriller)
Plague (A Medical Thriller)
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Arsonist
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Creature-Feature Novels
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Sea Creature
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Dracula (A Modern Telling)
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Copyright 2013 Victor Methos
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Black Sky (A Mystery-Thriller) Page 16