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peachybasil · 4 months ago

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The wood of the bar was worn smooth. Small divots and cracks showed its lack of care. There was a nick in the edge that scratched against his arm as he dragged it back to take a drink. He studied it, picking at the loose splinters of wood. The glass in his hand warmed as the time passed. Nash was rambling on beside him, had been for the last few minutes.

“-isn’t that right, Townsend? Townsend? Booker, you listening to me?” His expecting eyes searched for gratification.

Booker spared him a glance, giving a placating nod. It was enough for Nash. The man spiraled into another story, bragging an exaggerated tale of grandeur. Booker took a slow sip of his drink, hoping it dimmed the sound in the warm haze of whiskey. It burned his throat with that familiar campfire taste. The acrid smell of cigars hung over them in the dim room like a morning fog. Warm light danced against the dark bottles lining the wall across from him. The barkeep sat against the wall cleaning glasses, adamantly ignoring the patrons.

A bark of a laugh drew his attention to the back of the saloon. A man had a wicked grin cutting across his face as he pulled the woman closer. She wore a strained smile, her eyes laced with fear. Brown ringlets framed her face. Her dress was dripping in lace and frills. Booker watched the man lean in closer and whisper something that made the woman’s expression fall. She pulled away, hands desperately searching for purchase against the table. The man’s grip only tightened around her waist.

Booker’s boots hit the ground with a heavy Thump. He made his way to their table, the shadows soaking up most of his features as he retreated from the warm light of the bar. Booker took the seat across from the pair. The chair dragged against the wooden floor with a painful scratch. He leaned back taking in the man’s confused expression. The stranger’s hair was graying at the temples, and he was just starting to get lines around his eyes.

“We aren’t lookin’ for company. Beat it,” the man sneered. He flicked his coat open, flashing his pistol. His brow raised in challenge. The woman in his lap had wide eyes, jaw clenching to stop the trembling in her lip.

“I think we’d all be better off if you followed that advice yourself.” Booker grinned as the man’s face soured. “Now, are you going to let the girl continue with her day, or do we need to learn how to keep our hands to ourselves?”

He was met with that same barking laugh.

Booker nodded, “Understandable. Not the choice of an intelligent man, but I can tell your strengths lie in confidence.”

The man scoffed, but it was cut short when Booker stood and kicked the leg of the man’s chair out from under him. He fell back, the air exiting his lungs with a punched gasp. The woman was able to scurry from his grasp, stumbling over her hem as she exited the saloon before the man could even fully register what had happened.

The man looked stunned. He reached down and pulled a smooth metal disk from his pocket, flashed the brass deputy badge in Booker’s face. “Hell, look here. You don’t know what you’re doin’,” he sputtered.

“You’ve actually made a common mistake. No worries, I can explain. You see, it may be shaped like a shield, but it ain’t actually capable of stopping the shit you start.” Booker plucked the metal star from his hand, tossing it to the side. The deputy started to protest, but his words died on his tongue as Booker’s knuckles met his lips.

He felt a give in the punch that told him the impact had done more damage than intended.

There was a sharp crack. The deputy’s body rocked back with the blow. He cried out, hands cradling his jaw. One.. two.. three… and a half- yellowed teeth fell from his bloodied mouth. He let out a startled whine that cut off into a malicious growl. His hand snapped to his pistol.

A shiny barrel pressed into the man’s temple. He froze.

“Tsk tsk. Couldn’t just have a nice drink. Always gotta be a mission with you,” Nash flashed a grin. “Okay mister, what you’re gonna do now is collect yourself and walk outta here with your life firmly in your own hands. If you try’n pull that gun, you’ll be dead before you can get your hand around the grip. Tell me you understand.”

Like a dog with his tail between his legs, the deputy scrambled to his feet and left.

Booker examined his bloodied knuckles, none of his own. He caught lingering eyes beneath the brim of a wide hat from a table across the room. A large coat hung over most of their figure, but Booker could see the torn, dirtied edges of a dress peeking out from the darkness.

“We’ll need to leave tonight,” Nash grumbled, walking back to the bar. He grabbed his glass and finished off the remaining liquid with a wince.

The barkeep shot them a loathing glare.

“What? Don’t want to stick around and catch the local scenery?” Booker teased. He polished off his own drink, grabbing his coat from the adjacent seat.

“Starting a fight with a deputy when you know I’m low on bullets. Going for an award or somethin’? Biggest death wish in the southwest!” Nash pushed through the wooden doors, the hinges squealing like pigs.

“The guy was a joke,” Booker shrugged.

“Your luck’s gonna run out one day, and I’m not saving your sorry ass.” Nash led them back down the dirt road to the inn. The evening sun burned into their eyes.

Booker noted the echoing sound of the door hinges. “So you’d leave me to die. I see how it is. Only sticking around as long as there are bounties to collect,” Booker feigned offense.

“Townsend, you know I’ll feed you to the dogs if it means I can have a moment of peace,” Nash assured him with a dramatic salute that made Booker huff out a laugh.

Truthfully, Nash Oaks was one of the few people he trusted wholeheartedly. The only other souls Booker could rely on was Jude and his younger sister. Jude, Judith to those out of her good graces, ran a brothel a couple towns over from where Booker grew up. He trusted her with his life, but he only saw her when things got really bad and he needed to lay low for a while. Alternately, only five years his junior, he’d practically raised his sister Hazel. She resided back on the family farm, so when it came to daily trials and tribulations, Nash was the only person he wanted at his side.

Booker caught the additional footsteps growing nearer. “Oh because your life was so peaceful before you met me?” He raised a brow.

He caught Nash with a sly grin. “Okay, maybe peaceful’s not the right word. But damned if these months ain’t been a special kinda hell.”

“Well, I know my timing isn’t great here, but we have some company,” Booker sighed, stopping in his tracks and turning to meet their shadow.

Nash jumped, pulling his gun and training it on the figure. “What the fuck, how long did you know?”

“Followed us from the saloon, isn’t that right little lady?” Booker prompted.

The stranger hesitated briefly before tipping the brim of her hat up and revealing her face. She was young. Her hair was a dirty blonde, with uneven lengths around her face like she’d taken a knife to it. She was pretty, but her makeup was smudged and had dried after running down her cheeks.

Nash lowered his pistol. “You know there’s much easier ways to get a man’s attention than following him back to his room.” His grin tilted as he looked the girl over. The girl scrunched her nose, cringing at the line.

Booker gave a disapproving scowl. “What are you following us for?

Her attention fell back on Booker. “You saved that girl. He was all over her, probably would have done some pretty awful shit to her.”

He shifted his weight, glancing around. Saved. The words always make him uneasy. He didn’t save that girl. She ran off and he has no real clue what happened to her after. He hurt that piece of shit. Different priorities. “What’s it to you?”

“I want to come along,” she announced like fact, puffing up her chest and planting her feet.

“You can come with me any day,” Nash took a step closer to the girl. Booker reaches out to grab him, but to his surprise, the girl had it handled. She slipped a blade from her pocket and held it to Nash’s throat in one fluid motion. He swallowed hard.

“Take a step back or I’ll make your insides well acquainted with your outsides,” she bared her teeth. Nash quickly complied.

Booker rubbed his hand over his mouth to hide the smile that crept out.

“My name is Shane. I want to fight pieces of shit like that guy back there. I can hold my own. Teach me,” Shane proclaimed.

“You got a lot of demands there, kid,” Booker studied her face, determined.

“Look, I’ve run from a lot. I want to fight for my own life too here. I had a.. contract of sorts, and I’ve been runnin’ for a week straight. I need help,” her lips pressed into a resolved frown, but there was a desperation in his eyes that pleaded with him.

“A contract, huh?” Booker sighed, “Let me guess, you had a debt to a brothel? Skipped town and figured you’d be better off fending for yourself ‘til you saw how much worse off the world actually is?”

Shane clenched her jaw.

“You’re a soiled dove? Really? I’d never had guessed,” Nash chimed in, only to earn two sets of glares.

“Listen, Shane was it? If you’ve got a debt out there that’s owed, that means you’ve got a bounty on your head. Nash, what’s your stance on an unclaimed bounty?” Booker knew it was cold, but this girl would only find worse trouble for herself following them around.

Nash hesitated, searching his eyes for a moment before keying into his intent. “That’s just easy money to me. A girl like you would be no trouble hauling back to that Madam of yours and collecting.”

Shane’s brows drew together in confusion and a flash of betrayal. She took a step back, turning and quickly running from their sight.

“Pretty harsh, Townsend,” Nash muttered.

“It’s for the best. Come on, we need to pack our stuff and get out of this town.”

*****

The sun had dipped below the horizon as night enveloped the town. A soft, orange glow lined the farthest edge, the slightest hint of daylight before the night sky reigned supreme. It was quiet. Booker and Nash walked the horses along the edge of town, their bags strapped against the saddles. The heavy steps against packed dirt paired with the symphony of bugs chirping. They had hoped for a couple more days of rest before moving on, but with actions come consequences.

Heavy shadows stretched out from the buildings, providing enough cover to not catch the eyes of anyone still lingered about at that hour. Candle light flickered in window frames. Laughter echoed out into the empty streets.

Nash was just getting his leg over the saddle. Booker froze as the sound carried. A struggle, quick kicks against the dirt, and a sharp whine. Booker looked down the path, seeing the group half-visible from around the corner.

“We could just go. They’re probably fine,” Nash suggested.

There was a cry, quickly muffled, that was met with laughter from the group.

Nash sighed, already dismounting.

Booker tied the reins to the fence post, making his way down the dark road. He recognized dirty blonde hair, messy and uneven.

Shane tugged in the man’s grip. He had a hand tangled in her hair at the base of her neck, the other twisting her wrist behind her back. Another man held a tattered poster up beside her face. The resemblance was obvious, the bounty set at two thousand dollars. Too high for a runaway. The man across from her, leaning closer with a bruised grin, seemed all too eager to be in control again.

“That’s not a bad reward for a whore. I think they’d be thrilled to get you back,” the deputy grabbed her chin, forcing her to face him, “but maybe we should find out why you’re worth so much. Must have been the star of the house.”

“Burn in hell,” she spat back at him.

“You heard the lady,” Booker quipped before stepping into view. He heard an irritated grumble from Nash, who preferred a more subtle introduction into a skirmish.

The three men’s eyes snapped to him. A fire blazed in the gaze of the bruised deputy.

“You.”

“Aw, been thinkin’ of me? I’m flattered,” Booker grinned.

The deputy lunged at him, messy and impulsive. Booker easily stepped from his path, putting an elbow in the man’s back that sent him face down in the dirt. The man holding Shane’s bounty came to his ringleader’s defense, squaring up against Booker. The man had sandy blond hair, cut short, and a wiry mustache that reached over his lip. He threw the first punch, putting his entire weight into the blow. Booker let the man’s gravity pull him forward, landing a blow beneath his jaw that made his eyes roll back. The man hit the ground in a limp thud.

Wiping the dirt from his face, the deputy bared his teeth and drew his pistol.

A shot rang out.

The deputy shrieked in horror staring down at his bloodied, mangled hands. He fell to his knees, cradling them against his chest.

The man holding Shane by the hair’s eyes widened. He reached for his gun, but Nash stepped from the shadows beside him.

“I’d weigh your losses here before you try that,” Nash suggested. Gesturing with his aimed pistol, “Go on now. Run away.”

The man looked between his two cohorts. He loosened his grip on Shane, allowing her to pull away from his grasp. His eyes darted between Nash and Booker, taking a cautious step back before darting away from the scene.

Nash holstered his gun and straightened his hat. “Only took one shot. That’s gotta be a record.”

Booker watched Shane carefully. She had her attention fixed on the bleeding deputy, contempt drawing her features tight. She pulled that short blade from her sleeve and held it to his eye. The deputy drew a sharp breath. Her expression twisted in anger and conflict. She let out a frustrated groan and dragged the blade across his cheek before walking away. He winced but let out a relieved sigh, the blood dripping down to his collar.

Nash raised a brow to Booker who only returned a quick dismissal. Shane had chosen how she wanted to leave things. It was her decision to live with.

Booker and Nash returned to their things, mounting with ease. He guided the mare back to where Shane was collecting her wanted poster. She folded it up and tucked it in the waist of her skirt.

“Hey, kid.”

Shane flinched back from him, guarded like a cornered animal.

“Don’t worry, we’re not lookin’ to collect on you. We just understand needing to put some distance between yourself and a mess.” Booker extended a hand.

She eyed it with an apprehensive expression. A deep purple bruise was just beginning to blossom along her swollen cheek bone. Shane tucked her chin low to conceal the extent of it, letting her hair act as a curtain. “I appreciate… all of it, but you don’t have to bother with me. I can find my own way.”

“Listen, skip the self pity and just get on the damn horse,” Booker raised an expectant brow.

Shane looked conflicted for a moment, but her jaw clenched in resolve. She took his hand and pulled herself up with visible effort.

Booker smiled, biting back his amusement at her poorly hidden discomfort. She’d clearly spent little time on horseback, if any. He followed Nash out of town, looking out to the night horizon.

The moon washed over everything, bathing the scenery in silver light. It wasn’t long after, once the adrenaline drained from her system, Shane was slumped against his back. Booker kept an even pace, enjoying the silence of the night. He cherished the fleeting peace he found between towns. It was only in those liminal spaces that the sky felt as endless as the days.

#my writing #felt like sharing idk #cowboys #writing #exerpts from a book i'll never write

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