Chapter 39
DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS DICKS
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Chapter 39 (2)
Jessie blinked rapidly.
"What in tarnation..." he muttered, looking around at the crowd of penises. They encircled him like a tribal council but exuded an air of giddiness. "Where the hell am I?"
"Welcome, Jesse," a voice said. The crowd of dicks parted reverently to reveal the silhouette of a man. Small dicks gamboled around his feet like puppies at play.
"In the name of all that's holy--" Jesse said and started crossing himself against whatever evil magic had manifested here. "Was it Red-Boy? Did he cast some Injun spell?"
"No," the figure laughed, and stepped forward into a beam of light. Jesse was immediately struck by how starkly chiseled the man's cheekbones were, how perfectly tousled his blonde hair.
"Heath?" he whispered.
"Welcome to Brokeback Heaven, Jesse."
Jessie blinked rapidly.
"What in tarnation..." he muttered, looking around at the crowd of penises. They encircled him like a tribal council but exuded an air of giddiness. "Where the hell am I?"
"Welcome, Jesse," a voice said. The crowd of dicks parted reverently to reveal the silhouette of a man. Small dicks gamboled around his feet like puppies at play.
"In the name of all that's holy--" Jesse said and started crossing himself against whatever evil magic had manifested here. "Was it Red-Boy? Did he cast some Injun spell?"
"No," the figure laughed, and stepped forward into a beam of light. Jesse was immediately struck by how starkly chiseled the man's cheekbones were, how perfectly tousled his blonde hair.
"Heath?" he whispered.
"Welcome to Brokeback Heaven, Jesse."
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Chapter 40
Standing on the balcony of the federal courthouse, Judge Horatio Dicks bathed in the adulation of the crowd at his feet. Every time his name was chanted, he stood a little straighter. "Listen to them," he told his clerk. "They love me."
"They'll stop loving you sure as shootin' unless you can bring Jesse to justice," the bespectacled clerk replied plainly. "It's said in town that the Sheriff has taken matters into his own hand, hired some foreign bounty hunter to find 'im."
"Yes, I've heard about the Chinaman," the Judge scowled, turning and regressing into his chambers. "I'll be damned if some two-bit podunk badge-monkey is going to steal the credit for bringing in my fugitive. It's all right, though. I've brought in some help from our government."
There was a knock at the door. At Dicks' command, the little clerk opened it nervously. Standing in it was a mountain of a man, clad entirely in black, with a gigantic nickel-plated .44 at each hip. He smoked a cigarillo and glared at the recoiling clerk.
"Come in, Mr. McCray. I have your money here." He held out a bag of coin. "Half up front, as promised. You've memorized the picture I sent you?"
"No need," McCray drawled. "I know that rattlesnake's face like I know my own. Jesse." He practically spat the name. "I'd do this for free," he added, taking the coin from the Judge's hand.
"Fortunately, there's no need. Oh, and McCray... if a certain Oriental should get in your way... remove him."
The tip of McCray's cigarillo glowed red as he took a long draw. "Ayep."
Standing on the balcony of the federal courthouse, Judge Horatio Dicks bathed in the adulation of the crowd at his feet. Every time his name was chanted, he stood a little straighter. "Listen to them," he told his clerk. "They love me."
"They'll stop loving you sure as shootin' unless you can bring Jesse to justice," the bespectacled clerk replied plainly. "It's said in town that the Sheriff has taken matters into his own hand, hired some foreign bounty hunter to find 'im."
"Yes, I've heard about the Chinaman," the Judge scowled, turning and regressing into his chambers. "I'll be damned if some two-bit podunk badge-monkey is going to steal the credit for bringing in my fugitive. It's all right, though. I've brought in some help from our government."
There was a knock at the door. At Dicks' command, the little clerk opened it nervously. Standing in it was a mountain of a man, clad entirely in black, with a gigantic nickel-plated .44 at each hip. He smoked a cigarillo and glared at the recoiling clerk.
"Come in, Mr. McCray. I have your money here." He held out a bag of coin. "Half up front, as promised. You've memorized the picture I sent you?"
"No need," McCray drawled. "I know that rattlesnake's face like I know my own. Jesse." He practically spat the name. "I'd do this for free," he added, taking the coin from the Judge's hand.
"Fortunately, there's no need. Oh, and McCray... if a certain Oriental should get in your way... remove him."
The tip of McCray's cigarillo glowed red as he took a long draw. "Ayep."
The silver knives are flashing in the tired old cafe. A ghost climbs on the table in a bridal negligee. She says "My body is the life; my body is the way." I raise my arm against it all and I catch the bride's bouquet.
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Chapter 41
"What you do with for that?!" charged Wu Yun angrily, angered at missing the danger, angered at failing to kill Jesse himself. He had swung Killer of Bad Personss around and trained it on Red Boy, unsure whether he might be the next target. Worst of all, he knew that honor bound him to share the reward with the young Indian.
Red Boy shook with fear, then to their mutual relief, dropped Jesse's pistol to the dirt. "Jesse have gold," he stammered. "White man pay plenty. We divide."
The boy's grasp of English was rudimentary, but Wu Yun understood well enough, and nodded. "We you take gold under to town it with," he said, even mustering a reassuring grin. "Show me um gold gold town take back to with reward us."
Red Boy suddenly looked as scared as ever. He had made his move too soon. "Jesse--Jesse not tell where gold hid."
The reassuring grin was gone as quickly as it had come. "You shoot Jesse not know who where he is place the gold first?!"
Red Boy tried to find some excuse. "It around here, I know somewhere--" But he was interrupted by an unexpected noise. Wu Yun heard it too, and swiveled his head.
Jesse was moving.
Wu Yun knew this might be his only chance to uncover the hidden gold's location. He crouched down next to Jesse's wounded form, placed his ear to Jesse's lips, and could just make out a single word…
"Dickssssssss…"
"What you do with for that?!" charged Wu Yun angrily, angered at missing the danger, angered at failing to kill Jesse himself. He had swung Killer of Bad Personss around and trained it on Red Boy, unsure whether he might be the next target. Worst of all, he knew that honor bound him to share the reward with the young Indian.
Red Boy shook with fear, then to their mutual relief, dropped Jesse's pistol to the dirt. "Jesse have gold," he stammered. "White man pay plenty. We divide."
The boy's grasp of English was rudimentary, but Wu Yun understood well enough, and nodded. "We you take gold under to town it with," he said, even mustering a reassuring grin. "Show me um gold gold town take back to with reward us."
Red Boy suddenly looked as scared as ever. He had made his move too soon. "Jesse--Jesse not tell where gold hid."
The reassuring grin was gone as quickly as it had come. "You shoot Jesse not know who where he is place the gold first?!"
Red Boy tried to find some excuse. "It around here, I know somewhere--" But he was interrupted by an unexpected noise. Wu Yun heard it too, and swiveled his head.
Jesse was moving.
Wu Yun knew this might be his only chance to uncover the hidden gold's location. He crouched down next to Jesse's wounded form, placed his ear to Jesse's lips, and could just make out a single word…
"Dickssssssss…"
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Chapter 42
Cassandra poured herself a shot of whisky and slammed it back hard. She didn't have to keep the saloon open, but it eased her mind to keep busy. Usually business was booming after a shoot out, all the townsfolk getting liquored up and telling each other increasingly exaggerated versions of the events they'd all just witnessed. But the impending storm had driven most folks back to their homes. That, and the fear.
Jesse had seen to the town's needs for months since he'd come back from God only knows where, dropping coin and making promises like a politician in a whore's bedroom. But he had followed through. Now, without his protection, the wolves would be circling...
Her betrayal sat bitter in the back of her throat, and for all the whisky she was chasing it down with she couldn't seem to drown it. The fact that he had asked her to after their last night together didn't seem to matter. He wouldn't explain why, and he'd never mentioned any Chinaman. Surely he had a plan. Surely he hadn't just abandoned her. Surely he'd come back alive with that rat-bastard grin on his face. Surely she'd feel his arms wrapped around her again. Surely...
The footsteps outside broke her from her reverie. She wiped away the tears that hadn't come and readied herself for a customer, drawing her face back into a smile.
And then she smelled it, wafting through the air. Her smile dropped.
She reached under the bar and thumbed back the hammer on her rifle, then poured herself another slug of whisky as the doors swung open.
"Still smoking that cheap ass Mexican leaf, Marshall?" Cassandra looked up from her drink, all casual sass and the kind of world weariness that wouldn't show an ounce of surprise if the Devil himself walked through the door. McCray took a long drag and sat down at the bar.
"Habit. Like 'em. Reckon the things we love ain't always best for us."
"I suppose so. You still drinking the cheap shit, too, or should I reach for the top shelf while you pretend not to stare at my ass?"
"Where is he, Cassandra?"
She swallowed hard. Betrayal. She still tasted betrayal.
"...the Cave. Out past..."
"I know the one. Much obliged, Cassandra," he said, tipping his hat and dropping a bag of coins on the bar. He made his way for the door.
"You know no good's gonna come of that gold! You know where it comes from, and who wants it back. Don't matter if it's you or Jesse or the Chinaman. He'll burn through you all to get at it."
McCray stopped at the door. He stared out at the storm as a fork of lightning streaked across the dark midday sky.
"Ayup."
"Then...why?"
He glanced back over his shoulder.
"Reckon I just want to have a few final words with my brother," he said as he dropped the cigarillo to the ground, grinding it down with his boot heel. "You look good, Cassandra."
As the door swung shut in his wake, she opened the bag of coins. Silver. She didn't have to count. She knew there'd be 30. This time, she didn't even bother pouring the whisky. The bottle was good enough for her, as the tears finally came.
Cassandra poured herself a shot of whisky and slammed it back hard. She didn't have to keep the saloon open, but it eased her mind to keep busy. Usually business was booming after a shoot out, all the townsfolk getting liquored up and telling each other increasingly exaggerated versions of the events they'd all just witnessed. But the impending storm had driven most folks back to their homes. That, and the fear.
Jesse had seen to the town's needs for months since he'd come back from God only knows where, dropping coin and making promises like a politician in a whore's bedroom. But he had followed through. Now, without his protection, the wolves would be circling...
Her betrayal sat bitter in the back of her throat, and for all the whisky she was chasing it down with she couldn't seem to drown it. The fact that he had asked her to after their last night together didn't seem to matter. He wouldn't explain why, and he'd never mentioned any Chinaman. Surely he had a plan. Surely he hadn't just abandoned her. Surely he'd come back alive with that rat-bastard grin on his face. Surely she'd feel his arms wrapped around her again. Surely...
The footsteps outside broke her from her reverie. She wiped away the tears that hadn't come and readied herself for a customer, drawing her face back into a smile.
And then she smelled it, wafting through the air. Her smile dropped.
She reached under the bar and thumbed back the hammer on her rifle, then poured herself another slug of whisky as the doors swung open.
"Still smoking that cheap ass Mexican leaf, Marshall?" Cassandra looked up from her drink, all casual sass and the kind of world weariness that wouldn't show an ounce of surprise if the Devil himself walked through the door. McCray took a long drag and sat down at the bar.
"Habit. Like 'em. Reckon the things we love ain't always best for us."
"I suppose so. You still drinking the cheap shit, too, or should I reach for the top shelf while you pretend not to stare at my ass?"
"Where is he, Cassandra?"
She swallowed hard. Betrayal. She still tasted betrayal.
"...the Cave. Out past..."
"I know the one. Much obliged, Cassandra," he said, tipping his hat and dropping a bag of coins on the bar. He made his way for the door.
"You know no good's gonna come of that gold! You know where it comes from, and who wants it back. Don't matter if it's you or Jesse or the Chinaman. He'll burn through you all to get at it."
McCray stopped at the door. He stared out at the storm as a fork of lightning streaked across the dark midday sky.
"Ayup."
"Then...why?"
He glanced back over his shoulder.
"Reckon I just want to have a few final words with my brother," he said as he dropped the cigarillo to the ground, grinding it down with his boot heel. "You look good, Cassandra."
As the door swung shut in his wake, she opened the bag of coins. Silver. She didn't have to count. She knew there'd be 30. This time, she didn't even bother pouring the whisky. The bottle was good enough for her, as the tears finally came.
Sweetness Prevails.
-the Reverend
-the Reverend
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- Rev. Jordan T. Maxwell Offline
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Chapter 43
The kid was where he went wrong.
As Jesse meandered back to consciousness -- from a fever dream incorporating his old saddle buddy Heath, some frankly unsettling peckers and a climactic cream pie fight -- he ticked off the steps of his grand hasty scheme and cursed the womanish impulse that led him to take on the Apache cub. A harder man would have shot down the injun on sight. A harder man would have been a thousand miles and two countries to South America with the gold by now. A harder man would have burned down Mission's End for good measure. And therein lies the goddam sticky end of it, Jesse dazed: too many hard men around these days.
It was the smell that brought him gasping back to wakefulness, propped up against the cave wall with a noxious five-spice-and-then-some poultice strapped to his chest. If Wu-Yun was keeping him alive that meant...yes, from the open cave mouth he could just make out the savage mutterings of Red-Boy as the Chinaman chopped out orders "Stre ing Video Clips Desire Resort Cancun, Mexico Eden tickets now here also. change amateur nudist are common today!"
They hadn't found the gold. He still had cards. Even if it was a gutshot chickenshit straight draw.
The plan might still work.
The kid was where he went wrong.
As Jesse meandered back to consciousness -- from a fever dream incorporating his old saddle buddy Heath, some frankly unsettling peckers and a climactic cream pie fight -- he ticked off the steps of his grand hasty scheme and cursed the womanish impulse that led him to take on the Apache cub. A harder man would have shot down the injun on sight. A harder man would have been a thousand miles and two countries to South America with the gold by now. A harder man would have burned down Mission's End for good measure. And therein lies the goddam sticky end of it, Jesse dazed: too many hard men around these days.
It was the smell that brought him gasping back to wakefulness, propped up against the cave wall with a noxious five-spice-and-then-some poultice strapped to his chest. If Wu-Yun was keeping him alive that meant...yes, from the open cave mouth he could just make out the savage mutterings of Red-Boy as the Chinaman chopped out orders "Stre ing Video Clips Desire Resort Cancun, Mexico Eden tickets now here also. change amateur nudist are common today!"
They hadn't found the gold. He still had cards. Even if it was a gutshot chickenshit straight draw.
The plan might still work.
Last edited by acrouch on May 14th, 2012, 6:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
EDIT: Was having trouble posting and accidentally double posted. Move along.
Last edited by B. Tribe on May 3rd, 2012, 4:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.
“It's so simple to be wise. Just think of something stupid to say and then don't say it.” -Sam Levenson
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Chapter 44
Sheriff Brettsdick considered himself a brave man. Of course, he was the only one. There were plenty of deputies sent to their death and decimated posses who rode back into town who would have taken issue with that assessment. Brettsdick thought bravery meant being the last man standing. So there was no shame in bravely hiding until a gunfight was over, or courageously using your own men as shields, or fearlessly hiring bounty hunters to do your job for you. "And I only am escaped alone to tell thee." That was in the Bible, he was pretty sure. He also considered himself a holy man. Again, he was the only one.
In truth, Brettsdick was a joke to most of the folks in his jurisdiction. He'd have been voted out long ago...and most likely hanged...if anyone else wanted the job. But nobody did. Riding with Brettsdick was a coin flip's chance at an early grave, but those odds were far preferable to answering to his boss.
"Sir?"
The brave man's voice trembled as he entered the dark room.
"Is it done, Sheriff?" a soft paternal voice said from the shadows behind the desk, his outline barely visible against the drawn curtains.
"Yes, sir...well, soon sir," Brettsdick stammered out, heroically shifting from one foot to the other.
"Well, which is it, dear Sheriff? Yes, or soon? Is the outlaw captured and my gold returned, or will these things occur...soon?"
"Soon, yes, sir...what I meant is the fella I got to hunt Jesse down..."
"An outside agent? That's...disappointing."
Brettsdick gulped. This was not a man you wanted to disappoint.
"I entrusted this task to your capable hands, dear Sheriff. How do I know I can place that same faith and trust in your...agent?"
"He, um...well, he's always come through for me before, sir, and..."
The figure raised his left hand. The brave man courageously shut up.
"That is enough for me. If he has your trust, then he has mine. So long as he doesn't disappoint you...then you shan't disappoint me. If he should...well, we shall surely have a reckoning then, you and I, my friend."
"No, sir! I mean, yes sir. Of course...sir! He won't let you...us down, I promise!"
Brettsdick instinctively extended his right hand, a gesture of gratitude and loyalty. It was not returned. The brave man stared at the shadow, then at his hand. Left hand. Always the left hand. Never the right. You know he can't...he doesn't have...you shouldn't remind...you've done it now...no escape...no apology...no mercy...no...
"You may go, dear Sheriff," the soft voice whispered, a strained clip accenting each word.
The brave man scurried out the door without another word, hoping the fearless trickle down his pant leg was not too visible.
Sheriff Brettsdick considered himself a brave man. Of course, he was the only one. There were plenty of deputies sent to their death and decimated posses who rode back into town who would have taken issue with that assessment. Brettsdick thought bravery meant being the last man standing. So there was no shame in bravely hiding until a gunfight was over, or courageously using your own men as shields, or fearlessly hiring bounty hunters to do your job for you. "And I only am escaped alone to tell thee." That was in the Bible, he was pretty sure. He also considered himself a holy man. Again, he was the only one.
In truth, Brettsdick was a joke to most of the folks in his jurisdiction. He'd have been voted out long ago...and most likely hanged...if anyone else wanted the job. But nobody did. Riding with Brettsdick was a coin flip's chance at an early grave, but those odds were far preferable to answering to his boss.
"Sir?"
The brave man's voice trembled as he entered the dark room.
"Is it done, Sheriff?" a soft paternal voice said from the shadows behind the desk, his outline barely visible against the drawn curtains.
"Yes, sir...well, soon sir," Brettsdick stammered out, heroically shifting from one foot to the other.
"Well, which is it, dear Sheriff? Yes, or soon? Is the outlaw captured and my gold returned, or will these things occur...soon?"
"Soon, yes, sir...what I meant is the fella I got to hunt Jesse down..."
"An outside agent? That's...disappointing."
Brettsdick gulped. This was not a man you wanted to disappoint.
"I entrusted this task to your capable hands, dear Sheriff. How do I know I can place that same faith and trust in your...agent?"
"He, um...well, he's always come through for me before, sir, and..."
The figure raised his left hand. The brave man courageously shut up.
"That is enough for me. If he has your trust, then he has mine. So long as he doesn't disappoint you...then you shan't disappoint me. If he should...well, we shall surely have a reckoning then, you and I, my friend."
"No, sir! I mean, yes sir. Of course...sir! He won't let you...us down, I promise!"
Brettsdick instinctively extended his right hand, a gesture of gratitude and loyalty. It was not returned. The brave man stared at the shadow, then at his hand. Left hand. Always the left hand. Never the right. You know he can't...he doesn't have...you shouldn't remind...you've done it now...no escape...no apology...no mercy...no...
"You may go, dear Sheriff," the soft voice whispered, a strained clip accenting each word.
The brave man scurried out the door without another word, hoping the fearless trickle down his pant leg was not too visible.
Sweetness Prevails.
-the Reverend
-the Reverend
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- Rev. Jordan T. Maxwell Offline
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- Location: Austin, TX
- Contact:
). 