Pistol Fanny's Hank & Delilah

by Welch, Annie Rose

  “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I couldn’t walk away from you. After Tupelo, I was going to leave you somewhere else. I was going to drive away and never look back. I couldn’t do it, Hank. I was afraid for the first time since the day in those cotton fields. I was afraid of walking away from you and never feeling that way again. I was never afraid of getting caught or dying. But I was terrified of never seeing you again. Then we got twisted up in this deep and dark and desperate place that we just couldn’t seem to fight our way out of. They were blackmailing me, planning to kill you. You wouldn’t listen to me! You kept interfering. I didn’t want to strip your manhood by stepping in, because I knew somewhere deep down it was your way, a man’s way of protecting his family, but he was going to kill you.

  “I was working on a new plan. But the wheels were set into motion then. Cray knew you were coming for him next. He knew I’d be there and he took you. That was that mean ole devil’s mother who took you. She killed that man in California. Those two FBI agents were in his pocket. They were all in on it, planning on setting up a dead woman. I couldn’t let them have you, Hank. Delilah without her Hank is not Delilah. I was the only one who could stop them. I would never allow anyone to hurt you, Hank. Dear Lord,” she gasped. “The words just keep flowing!” She took a moment to catch her breath, and Hank stared at her. “Hank, you knew it was me all along. You knew I was Pistollette.” Not a question, a certified statement.

  Hank looked to the ground. “Yes, darlin’, I did. California threw me for a loop, I’ll admit. After the bank in New Orleans, I had no doubt it was you. I feel alive. I can breathe whenever we’re together. It doesn’t matter what your face or body looks like, I know you, regardless. I would’ve never ratted on you. But I didn’t want to know for the same reasons you never showed me. It was best if we kept that part separate until now. Until it was over. I loved you enough not to care about the shady parts of who you are. I’ve got shady parts myself. What I just did—I’d do again for you, and now those babies.”

  “You never bowed out, Hank. I asked you to show me something I didn’t know. You showed me true love. Hank, you’re my one. You’re the only who gets me. Both sides of me. Plus two more. I can’t live without you, baby.”

  Even though her words resonated deep down inside of him, in all the dark and light parts of him, Hank was still sore. The enormity of what had happened had sunk in. “I can’t believe you brought Huck & Rosie into a fight, darlin’! I almost lost you…God Almighty, without you…I can’t believe you…”

  Hank and Delilah started arguing on the sidewalk. Freud groaned and sunk back down into the seat. The wind howled and the chiming of women’s laughter floated toward them. The old black Cadillac passed on the street, honking as it drove by. Dylan and the guys followed right behind it.

  Hank’s cheeks were burning from his anger and the coolness of the air. Delilah started to get short winded. Those babies were taking some of her oxygen, and the rest was being taken by spatting with Hank.

  Hank stopped moving his mouth for a moment. Delilah did the same. Silence followed until Hank smiled. “You ready to get married?”

  Delilah smiled. “You still want to marry a bank robbin’ lil’ woman who doesn’t give a damn?”

  Hank nodded. “I wanted to marry you the moment I saw you, darlin’. But here are my rules, take ’em or leave ’em. No more robbin’ anything, darlin’. Now that we’re going to have a family, it’s just not acceptable. I can’t have you off doing God knows what anymore. I just can’t do it. If you have to, I know everything. We’re a team. You love me for the rest of our lives, and no breaking those rules. What do you say? One more day?”

  “I’ll take that, Hank. I’ll take one more day for the rest of my life.”

  Hank swept her off her feet again and swung her around. “All right then, darlin’, let’s go.”

  “Where to?”

  “First, we seek medical help from Melody and Doc Houston. If he’ll even see me. Right after, Gatlinburg, Tennessee.”

  “The Vegas of the South.” Delilah laughed.

  Hank wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of his life. It was pure sugar. She let her arms and head hang back. She sighed. “Woo Hoo.”

  Detective Bite Barone stood next to a payphone in front of a Darling’s Sweet Cakes shop in Charlotte, North Carolina. The slightly warm day was fading into a cold evening as he held a lit cigarette in one hand and a white chocolate sweet bun in the other. He would alternately take a puff and then a bite. His fingers were stained yellow from too much tobacco, his teeth from too much caffeine. His hair was white from too much stress.

  The skin under his eyes was more abused than his pillows at home. He had a brown dangling mole underneath his right eye he never bothered to have removed. The lines in his face were gouges of too many problems, not enough solutions. He was a dedicated man. A man dedicated to a vow he made so many years ago.

  His dedication stole its toll. This he couldn’t deny. He had been married twice. Both exes were now best friends who found solace in each other. The mistress of the job took him away for long hours, and there was never enough love made, never enough friendship built, and too many broken promises.

  He had children, two from his first marriage, three from his second. He was there for conception, but he couldn’t remember the details. Or the birthdays in which they appeared. He was no deadbeat, but money was about the only thing he had contributed.

  The kids occasionally called, he occasionally called, but they were strangers. Very polite, to the point, and never a word between them about how thankful they were for each other. His cholesterol was high. His blood sugars low. Doctor said a sure sign of diabetes on its way. He had it all. But never a day went by that he wasn’t thankful for the job, or why he had taken it in the first place. He had waited many years for the day the call would come. And when it had: glory, glory, hallelujah to the highest.

  Detective Bite Barone’s partner sat on the curb staring at a faded, worn-out photo he always kept tucked inside his suit. His Partner had the cruiser’s radio turned low, some Cash song playing in the parking lot. He had old memories in one hand, flowers in the other. He was like an old man who had met his soulmate as a child, only to lose her and then find her before his dying day. His partner smiled down at the picture.

  The photograph was of a beautiful woman, her hair and skin fair, her lips pretty pink. She had the bluest of eyes, even though it was hard to tell from the picture. But his partner had mentioned it. A little girl sat on her hip, staring at the camera. Her pouty lips were the sort made in heaven by angels.

  His partner was Detective Gunner Bluesman. Once upon a lifetime he was Anthony O’Hanan. He had turned into Detective Gunner Bluesman after he approached Bite Barone’s father about a deal neither one could pass up.

  Detective Gunner Bluesman was the Adonis to Detective Bite Barone’s Quasimodo.

  Detective Bluesman had the thickest and blackest hair, the palest skin, and the lightest of brown eyes. He was a strapping man, his muscles still well defined after years of use. He always smelled of Old Spice cologne. When he walked past, women seemed to just drop at his feet. He would smile and they would literally swoon. His eyes always watered from the unshed tears he couldn’t spill. He kept a hankie in his pocket at all times to wipe away the moisture constantly rolling down his cheeks.

  Detective Bite Barone and Detective Gunner Bluesman had nothing in common at first glance. They were opposite sides of the track, but somehow together they were legends in their department. No one mistrusted them. They dealt fairly and truly, were crackers, no matter what the case. The first forty-eight never got away from them. Together, they created a team no man dared to challenge.

  They were best of friends. They would get drunk only together. They had loose tongues when they did, speaking secrets they could only discuss with one another. All those horrendous secrets of a past they had vowed to bring down, to resurrect a better future for all involved.


  Detective Bite Barone had lost his little sister to a machete accident. The man in the fields claimed he hadn’t seen her walking, and he was truly sorry, but he hadn’t realized he had cut a woman’s head off until it rolled toward him. Her husband, who they only referred to as the devil, pretended to be shocked and cried. Wanted to kill the man himself!

  “Let me at him, let me at him, but wait, it was just an accident!”

  The devil lost his wife and gained her life insurance policy. The devil’s own father died not long after, and this made him believe he was the most important and powerful man on the planet. It was his. He owned it. And his money only bought people who swore to protect the all high and mighty one.

  Not even Barone’s father, who had ties to the New Orleans mob, could destroy him. But his father was a patient man, and although he didn’t have the power to stop him, he still had his own connections. It was only time. Time would come, it always does. It’s dependable and it rolls on, no matter who you think you are. The opportunity inflated when the devil’s own brother, an angel of a man, walked through their doors looking for an even swap.

  Gunner—then Anthony—was in love with was one of the chosen ones. The little girl was his niece, and he had changed her name when she newborn, so one day the devil wouldn’t be able to find her. Not easily anyway. The woman’s brother, Paul, and Detective Gunner Bluesman plotted together. They were going to steal those two from underneath the devil’s nose. Detective Gunner Bluesman knew all his secrets, all his ins and outs, and he was going to send him straight to hell.

  All those ears and eyes the devil had paid off. The entire operation was blown to pieces when a woman who was seeing Paul told the other devil of a man, Booty.

  Because the woman who was seeing Paul had ratted her way into the operation, punishment was dealt out to all those involved. The woman, Lilly Beth, was almost beaten to death, and Anthony was on the run. He had to leave his love behind. It was just too dangerous for her to ever see him again.

  Eyes and ears and arms and legs everywhere, like a freakish science project spider that was damn near indestructible.

  Anthony went to the Barones’ with a powerful story. He told them everything they wanted to know. How the devil killed their Maria for the insurance money, even though he didn’t need it, and how he buried her in the fields, just because he knew she would have hated it.

  A new dawn had sprung between the ones left behind to suffer. A plan was born from indescribable grief. Mr. Alfonso Barone pulled strings, and from them, Detective Gunnar Bluesman was born. The two detectives were bonded, had vowed something sacred together, and a relationship had blossomed.

  The detectives couldn’t get a grip on the devil, though, no matter how hard they tried. Then those beautiful angel women started robbing his banks. The army against the devil was getting larger. Barone tried talking to the leader, the woman they all called Pistol. Sometimes Little Sister. As of late, Pistollette.

  But she refused.

  It was her and her girls, end of story. She didn’t discuss and she didn’t cahoot. No one knew who she was. Her outfit was tight-fisted and loyal. The rumor mill circulated with her name. She was as quiet as an angel, quicker than a ghost, quicker than any man the devil could find to stand against her. She was rumored to be as beautiful as Weepin’ WillaMae with the gun skills of Wild Wyatt Law.

  Many a people thanked God for her and those girls of hers.

  All those souls left behind were after one thing, and one thing only, to see justice finally served. New Orleans was not the place. It was too infiltrated with the devil’s men. Charlotte was the perfect place. It was his greatest pot to lose. And even though the two detectives had been working on him all their lives, Pistollette swooped in and stole from him like she was taking a dollar from her father’s wallet.

  The devil was frightened of that angel, and she wasn’t backing down. She walked right into his house, like a tornado, and buried him under it. Lord have mercy on anyone who touched her family. The end of the assassin’s rule was over and done with. A new dawn had sprung, and that mean devil was left in the darkness of yesterday. They literally buried them both underneath money and power.

  Barone thought of the day in terms of the bun in his hand—sweeter than anything he had ever tasted. Finding those women and the devil’s own mother screaming, “I didn’t do it you sonnabitches! It was a set up!” And the two detectives saying, “Yes, ma’am, we’re sure it was.”

  Seeing the two boys, Winston and Woe, and Woe’s finger gone. Winston’s pants around his ankles. Winston had been holed up in a room with underage girls for three days, and they busted in on his last corral. Then the other two, gone, gone, long gone.

  A little rearranging here and there. That’s all it took. Those two detectives were glad to be of service.

  Detective Bite Barone smiled down at his partner. He hung up with his good buddy the coroner and dialed a number, the news in his heart so beautiful, he felt he was going to burst his new extra-large pants.

  “Hello,” answered a gravelly old voice.

  “Papa,” Barone whispered. “Papa, it’s me, Bite boy.”

  “Ahh, my son, my son.” If his son would have been near, he would have squeezed his cheeks and kissed his forehead. “Any good news for this old man today?”

  “Ahh, Papa, the best. The devil is dead. The devil is dead! Our partner and me, we worked it ourselves. The mother and other women were taken for the murder of that man in California, and for all of the robberies. The two devils killed each other. The devil is dead! No one even cared. The reign of terror is over. Those ghost riders did it! They came through,” he murmured on a sniff.

  There was a moment of silence before the old man started to cry. He sobbed loudly on the other end and blew his nose like a horn. He cried for his Maria and then finally, when his breathing slowed, he thanked his son and that beautiful partner of his. “I can finally die a peaceful death. I can die a semi happy man. Oh my Maria, Maria…” He continued to cry.

  Detective Bite Barone hung up the phone; tears blurred his vision.

  Detective Gunner Bluesman asked him if he wanted another sweet bun. His partner shook his head and thanked God once more. He was hungry no longer for junk. He was hungry for life. He wanted another wife, another chance at love. He wanted to join a gym and lose the stress baggage. He wanted to reconnect with his children and be the doting grandfather. He was going to turn his hair black again, reduce those bags and fill up on veggies and fruits. He had a nice smile once upon a time. He wanted it back.

  Along with the man next to him, holding that picture close and grinning like a boy, he was a free man. And all he had to do was sign his name on the report.

  Two weeks later, Hank & his Delilah were hiding out, high up in the Tennessee Smoky Mountains. The cabin was all wood, clinging to the side of a mountain, surrounded by lush greenery and the colors of changing fall. A small creek, filled with earthy cool pebbles, trickled below their window. The mist floated high like a ghost, and the smell of burning logs filled the air with a rich scent.

  Hanging on the bedroom door was a beautiful white lace wedding gown. The lace overlaid silk and was decorated with delicate roses that had swept the ground when she walked. A black suit and tie, the same one worn many days ago, was crumpled on the floor underneath it—sans bloodstains.

  Hank and Delilah had gotten married in a small chapel. Preacher John officiated at the ceremony. The vows were simple, the promises true, and although they could’ve had any type of affair they wanted, all they wanted was each other. Hank had asked her where she wanted to go. What she wanted to do on their honeymoon. Her want was as simple as the wedding: “somewhere peaceful with you.” They settled into their cabin, into newly married life, and once they had, Delilah became very tired.

  She slept for a week straight it seemed, hardly getting out of bed. She would get up to eat, walking the floors lightly to the table on her thin legs, despite her burgeoning belly. Hank made sur
e she did. Doc Houston said it was important for her to eat more than her fair share. She ate without a problem, mostly wanting pickles and ice cream. But she didn’t want to leave the cabin.

  Delilah wanted to make a little love, whisper all those pretty love words to Hank. Everything he longed to hear and she wanted so badly to tell. She would admire the simple band of diamonds around her finger, telling him he had given her the stars. But Hank could see how worn his Delilah was.

  She was creating two lives and catching up on her own. She had her freedom, but freedom is never free. It always comes at a price. Delilah had fought her entire life for the days she was sleeping through. She had always been ten steps ahead or following five steps behind. She had ten pairs of eyes and eight pairs of ears. She was high above his rafters, digging low with the worst of the worst.

  It was go, go, go because if you stopped, he’d know. And even though she was thankful for all that was hers, it wasn’t easy for her.

  Hank knew Delilah was a feeler. The ones who hurt the most say the least. She fought because she had no other choice, and throughout her life, she didn’t have time to wish for things to be different. She had to become the difference. And now that everything had stopped, those years of out running had caught up to her.

  Those highways had finally come to a dead end. She had been split in two, and she had to learn how to become one again. She was holding on to Pistollette, balancing the act between keeping her strength and allowing Delilah to lead her own life. She was coming to terms. She was never the victim. After that day, she never allowed herself to be. But she was a person. And she had to heal.

  Hank was a part of her medicine.

  He was beside her, watching as she slept. He spread his fingers wide and laid them on her stomach, feeling everything. He wondered and worried and moved closer to her. He listened to the wind whistling through the willows and the tall pines and all the rest of the trees, swaying in the night. He kissed her and stood from the bed, going for the gift she had given him. An acoustic guitar. He didn’t know how to play, but she imagined him one day playing for her and the babies. He would learn.