Biting Dust - ch.4
Life ain’t too easy for a woman, ‘specially not a woman on the run like you. With a bounty on your head and gunpowder in your nose, you’ve grown adjusted to a life of solitude away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. That is, until you meet one particular man who’s got a face you’d only ever seen in your dreams – or on wanted posters. And when he offers you a proposition that sounds too good to be true, well. You don’t think your life will ever be the same again…
Outlaw!Kylo Ren x Reader
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7k; cw Graphic descriptions of violence/gun violence/blood & injury
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There’s a distinct energy in the air, gettin’ on up in the morning. Still surprised he ain’t shoot you dead yet, you give Kylo nothing more than a nod of acknowledgment, before goin’ about your business, wadin’ ankle-deep into the water. The water, crystalline and deep, light sparkling off the meandering currents like diamonds, you’re reminded of the way Kylo looked, when he was lookin’ at you.
Shaking your head, you sigh. Whatever had happened yesterday had happened, and it was in the past. Had you dreamed about it? About him? Had your visions been plagued with the look on his face as he came across your stomach? As he nearly sobbed for you, lickin’ at your pulse like some wild thing?
Of course.
Of course, but as much as you wanted to ride on that high of victory, that first test, that first challenge of trust, you knew that his turn would be a’comin’ real soon. You tip your face up to the sky, let the crisp blue of Arizona shine down on your closed eyes, seepin’ up the warmth.
You splash the sleep out of your face, and if Kylo’s watchin’ you real careful like, if somethin’s on his mind, he’s got the smarts to keep it to himself.
It’s silent, for a good part of the ride. Y’all had skipped breakfast, forgoin’ the previous day’s precedent of boiled coffee and a cigarette, instead wanting to keep moving. Always on the move, you were. It wasn’t always that way, but well, that’d been the way for so damn long now, that the time before feels like a dream. Feels like someone else’s memories playin’ in your head.
If only that was the case, you think dryly.
Kylo’s contemplative on his horse, for a real long while. You wonder what he might be thinkin’ about, if he’s thinkin’ about you. You had tried wakin’ up before him today, but it was to no avail. Did the man ever sleep? Surely he must’ve, he was only human after all. You catch his eye awkwardly, the both of y’all looking at each other and then looking away, embarrassed at bein’ caught.
It would seem as though that mutual embarrassment was Kylo’s sign to say something finally, breaking whatever tense mood this had become.
“So Cousin,” Kylo’s voice shocks you for some reason, almost like you had forgotten how deep it was, almost like you’d forgotten that another person could speak so clearly, so confidently to you. “What’s your name?”
He’s referring to the cover story, of course. You remember the way he so sharply denied answering for his age – or maybe was it bein’ a brother that he objected to? Either way, the venom that had stung still lingers in the back of your mind, so you find it best not to press the subject, and answer with the moniker you’ve come to use;
“Mary Elizabeth Sampson.” The words just sound right, rollin’ off the tongue. It was a normal name, nothin’ so outlandish like Angel Eyes. No, Miss Mary Elizabeth Sampson was a proper name, could be found in just about any school house – you immediately cut that train of thought off, instead deflecting, “What’s yours?”
“Benjamin Whitlocke.” Kylo tips his hat, and gives you a real cheeky smile, the kind that shows off his dimples and them crooked teeth as he winks, “But you can call me Benji.”
Sonofabitch is charming, you’ll give him that.
The ease at which Kylo spills the name from his lips relieves you. He was just like you, wasn’t he? On the run and undercover in more ways than one, always another name, another identity in his back pocket. Not that anyone would believe him if he went around introducin’ himself as Kylo Ren – that man was a legend.
This man is…well.
He’s charming.
You commit the name to memory, not that anyone is likely to ask. Folks tended to not ask about things like that, things like the who the when where why how, usually only the what. Still, it’s good to know, good to make sure y’all are on the same page, so you don’t go gettin’ yourselves shot on accident.
“Alright Benji, where’re we from?” You keep your face turned towards the horizon, towards the little town that you’ll be passin’ through. It’s coming up, just out there, just around the canyons. “And where’re goin’?”
“Genoa, Nevada. Right near the Carson River Valley, just shy of Reno.” Kylo’s quick with this one too, and you accept it as an acceptable answer. You had no problem adopting his story, somethin’ about it made you feel more at ease. You could trust yourself to not fuck it up – but trustin’ someone else? Not likely. Especially when Kylo gives you a glance with his good eye and asks, “And well, best to tell the truth ain’t it? Colorado?”
You had told that kind woman back at the inn that you’d be headin’ to Colorado, it didn’t seem worth it to lie once you’ve already told the truth. The truth is easy, don’t got nothin’ to hide if you’re tellin’ the truth.
“Sure is.” You eventually respond. When you ask the next question, you ain’t askin’ for any other reason than your own edification, “What’s the name of this lil’ town you’re sayin’ we’re comin’ up on?”
Kylo shrugs at that, and you shoot him a dirty glare. Immediately he puts his hands up to prevent you from throwin’ a fit about not knowin’ where the hell he’s taking you.
“Well I ain’t so sure what they call themselves on the map, but everyone I ever spoke to only knows it as Ragrock.” He explains, and you sigh, not likin’ that answer one bit.
“Ain’t never heard of Ragrock, are you sure it’ll be there?” You don’t recall such a name bein’ written on that map you’d taken, as a matter of fact you don’t recall a town bein’ out here this way anyway.
Don’t jump to conclusions, you think, as your finger itches for the trigger of your six-shooter that you’ve got right on your hip. Don’t jump, he could be telling the truth, he hasn’t done you wrong yet.
“I’m sure. It’s mighty small but it’s got what we need.” Kylo speaks confidently, making you raise an eyebrow at him.
“Oh yeah? And what exactly is it that we need?”
“Well now I don’t know about you, but I sure would like to stock up on some essential supplies,” Kylo licks across his teeth, breath still sour from morning. “Namely bullets. Some food and a good drink too while we’re at it, but mostly bullets.”
“How much shootin’ have you been doin’ to be fresh out?” You frown, and he rolls his eyes. For a second there, you think he’s about to laugh, but the most you get is a sharp huff out of his nose.
“Angel I’m never fresh out, believe me.” Patting his hip, you hear the telltale jangle of rounds secured to his belt. “I just don’t like gettin’ low, that’s all. And besides, I have a feelin’ we’re gonna need ‘em. We’ll keep a low profile and all, but Ragrock has a habit of bein’ a bitch sometimes.”
“Yesterday you said there were only three public buildings.” You point out, how much of a bitch could a small town like that be?
“I sure did.” He misses the point, “Bar, drug store, and jail.”
“Damn.” The word is out of your mouth before you even think it, and you immediately kick yourself.
Kylo does smile then, gives you a big knowing smile, and something about it soothes you just as much as it unnerves you. You had been half-jokin’ when you told him your name was Angel Eyes, and you had hoped he’d be inclined to accept it as a joke. No one had ever seen you, your face was never done right on the wanted posters, to him you had hoped you were just another woman out in the west.
But when he smiles at you like that, it makes you think he knows.
“Closest bank’s not gonna be until we cross over the border into Utah.” Kylo says real quiet, and you give yourself away by snappin’ your teeth shut, shootin’ him the dirtiest look you can muster.
“What do I care about banks for?” You’re too defensive, and you know that, but dammit you’re defensive anyway – especially because you are Angel Eyes and what if he’s a bounty hunter of some kind? What if he poses as Kylo Ren to get close to outlaws just like you and rake in the big bucks? What if -- ?
“Didn’t say that you did,” Kylo shrugs again, “Was just makin’ conversation is all. Anyway, we won’t be needin’ to worry about banks for a little while. I’ve got enough money on me.”
You have half a mind to halt Agnes right then and there, surprise taking the place of any paranoia.
“You do?” Frowning, you watch as he rifles through a little purse that he pulls out of a small pocket in his waistcoat.
“Yep.” He shows you, lets you peer inside at the many bills folded neatly together, “Just about a hundred dollars between it all.”
You do stop Agnes then, halting her reins sharply in a way that makes her whinny in protest. Kylo stops Sam too, already confused about what he did wrong, about why you might be angry with him. That only makes you a little angrier.
“Where the fuck did you get that kind of money?” You demand, wondering why the hell he hadn’t said something before, why he had so little on his person if he had the money to afford better.
“Does it matter?” Kylo shrugs and you sigh with an exasperated roll of your eyes.
“Yeah it sure as shit matters! We can’t go ridin’ into a small town with that much money lookin’ like we do. They’ll suspect us straight off.” You groan.
You’re in your riding clothes once again, but you know that even when you change into your blue dress, neither of you will look rich enough to be carrying around one-hundred dollars. That was a very special class of person, a class of person neither of y’all happen to be. Anyone who saw would immediately peg y’all as thieves.
“Well it ain’t like I’m gonna walk in and flash some bills in everyone’s face.” Kylo mutters, expression souring, “Maybe I’m a gambler and got lucky over a deck of cards, they don’t need to know where it came from.”
The thought fills you with panic, with dread.
“Are you?” You’re askin’ before you even know that you’re doing it, voice gone hoarse from the memory of a long time ago, the memory of a poker table endin’ badly, the memory of a card game lost, fire and screaming and --
“No.” Kylo answers with enough passion and angry heat that you think maybe he’s got some bad memories too. You and Kylo stare real hard at one another, and eventually he puts the purse back in his little pocket and says real soft, “My daddy was, and that’s enough for me to never want to bet so much as a dime.”
As much as you hate admittin’ it – and though you’d never say it to his face – you find yourself likin’ Kylo a little bit more now. He nudges Sam with the heel of his boot, thinking that now that this face off has met its end, you can continue down towards the town.
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Squinting against the rippling heat waves of the summer sun, you notice that the town’s buildings are starting to appear as small pricks on the horizon, way out in the distance, shimmering like a mirage. Now’s as good a time as any, you figure, because if you get any closer they might send scouts to come investigate, and you’re not in any mood for an investigation.
“Hold on.” You say, and Kylo stops immediately. Sam huffs out a little chuff of annoyance, but Kylo ignores her.
“What’s the matter?” He’s got a sharp edge to his voice, his good eye immediately scanning around and around for danger.
“Ain’t nothin’ the matter, I just have to change, that’s all.” You explain, and it’s almost funny the way that Kylo’s shoulders drop, tension saggin’ away from them.
You hop off of Agnes altogether. Looking around, you realize very quickly that there’s nothing to change behind, nothing to give you cover. But then you wonder if it really matters, Kylo’s already seen you naked after all. You wonder if he’ll want to look again, if he’ll get his eyeful of you the way he had yesterday, but you find that as you start undressing, he’s got his eye trained just off to your right, respectful.
“Into that blue dress of yours, right?” He clears his throat, busying himself by fiddling with some tobacco and a piece of paper, rollin’ up a cigarette.
“One of us has to look civilized.” You tease him, “Make yourself useful and keep a lookout.”
He does something then, that makes you wonder just what the hell he’s playin’ at. Kylo guides Sam to come stand beside you, effectively sandwiching you between your horse and his, creatin’ a barrier from the outside world, a shield of sorts. You never would have expected such gentlemanly behavior from him – from anyone.
But here he is, protectin’ you from the hungry gaze of the sun and the sand, as you step out of the calf-tall boots you wear, unsnap the buckles of your suspenders which hold up the worn linen trousers that once were a rich black, but now have sun-bleached to an off-blue grey. You unbutton your shirt, long sleeves slippin’ off your arms and exposing your skin to the harsh rays of the sun for a few moments, and all the while, Kylo doesn’t look.
You’re wearin’ nothin’ but your corset and smock, and he doesn’t look.
“You know, when we cross into Utah, we’ll have to pass through Ruby City.” Kylo says instead of starin’ at your body, instead of tryin’ to get a glimpse. “That there’s a proper city, has a train station runnin’ through it and everything. It’s got all sorts of stores and things like that. Maybe you could let me buy you a new dress, let that blue one retire for a while.”
Switching your corset from the sturdy riding support-piece that you wear for something more fashionably structured, still he doesn’t look. The smock sits nicely off your shoulders, your decolletage and cleavage on full display as you snap the hooks and eyes of the corset into place, steppin’ into the petticoat that you’d just cleaned by the river.
“No.” You say easily, echoin’ a sentiment you’d give him before, “I don’t need you doin’ anything for me, I told you already – ”
You struggle for a minute, pullin’ the dress over your head. When it’s freshly washed like this sometimes it was a little stiff from dryin’ in the sun, and you have to wriggle it around to get it to sit properly.
“Well what if it ain’t a need but a want to do it?” Kylo’s hands startle you for a minute, as he leans down and helps set the seam of the yoke on your shoulders properly, “A gift from me to you.”
You tense up immediately, and he drops his hands, not wanting to offend or upset you.
“Ain’t never been a man who gives a gift without expectin’ somethin’ in return.” You reply quietly, a resolute shake of your head.
He’s quiet about that for a while, watching you now that you’re all covered up, watching as you do up all those buttons on your front, as you step into boots that are a little more lady-like, even though you despise that term.
He watches as you trade your wide brimmed hat for a bonnet, hair tucked neatly away instead of the way you usually let it be exposed and free.
“I’m not like them,” Kylo appraises you, fixes your bonnet a little so it ain’t crooked as you tie the ribbon underneath your chin, “Whoever it is that done hurt you so bad.”
“I don’t know that.” You point out, swingin’ your leg up over Agnes’ sadle and rollin’ the stiff joints of your shoulders. Your tone is light, not wantin’ to get into too much heavy right before headin’ into the town, “For all I know, you could be worse.”
“I’ll prove it to you, you’ll see.” Kylo smiles, and you almost want to accept that as a challenge, almost want to dare him, just to see if he would.
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Kylo wasn’t lying when he said the town was small. There it was, the single street town, in all its glory. Looking to the left, you can see the way the canyons split and wind alongside the river, houses and homesteads and farms dottin’ the red red earth. Looking to the right, you can see more houses still, but farther apart, nothin’ but cacti and tumbleweeds between them.
Along this single road are actually five buildings; the drugstore and a jail to the left, the saloon and a big fancy house to the right, and a church right down at the end of the road. Well, it wasn’t so much a road as it was a dirt path, but still. And because of how little there was, it was all spread out, takin’ up as much space as possible.
No one was around, but if all the noise from the saloon were anythin’ to go by, you’d reckon that the entire town of Ragrock had gathered there.
Given the placement of the sun up in the powder blue sky, it was fixin’ to be about lunchtime. And considerin’ neither you nor Kylo had had anythin’ to eat today, you’re just glad that the ovens would hopefully be workin’, and that you might use some of Kylo’s money for somethin’ hot and fresh.
“I’m going to pick up some things from the pharmacy, why don’t you go get us a table?” Kylo’s thinkin’ the same thing, and you shoot him a wary eyebrow.
“Do you think they’ll let me in?” You knew that in most places, women weren’t actually allowed inside saloons unless they were whores or ‘Shady Ladies’. And while you were certainly a Shady Lady, you didn’t need nobody knowin’ that.
“In a town this small, impropriety extends to the womenfolk, no need for worry.” Kylo waves your concern off, and you wonder whether to believe him or not.
“What’ll you have to drink?” You decide on takin’ him at face value, it hadn’t steered you wrong yet. Kylo lets out a little laugh at the question, and you roll your eyes, hatin’ how damn cocky he gets when he gets his way.
“Doubt there’ll be much of a choice, but if rum’s on the menu, you sign me up for a glass of that.” He licks across his teeth again, and you part ways for the time being.
There’s only one place to hitch the horses, and that’s damn near the other end of the town by the church. Must not be Sunday, you figure, since the building is empty. Keeping track of the days of the week was somethin’ that had been gettin’ harder and harder, and usually it was only times like these when you’re in a town, that you’re able to figure out when the hell on the calendar you are.
Bein’ that it ain’t Sunday, your earlier suspicion is correct – everyone in the town is in this saloon. From the town elders to the children, boys and girls alike, everyone’s gathered together in the shade of the big wooden building. It’s only one story you notice, which means that there ain’t an inn or a place to sleep above it, which could pose somethin’ of a problem for you. You resolve to get chummy with the boss and see if he can’t suggest somewhere that you and Kylo might be able to rest your heads later on in the evening when the time comes.
The bar is nearly full up with customers laughin’ and talkin’ to one another, card game tables are set up on the floor, some folks winnin’ and some folks losing. There’s a three-person band up against the wall, a pianist a harmonica player, and a fiddle player, and the music instantly lets you know that this is an Irish town.
No rum then, sorry Kylo, you think with a bit of apprehension as you step foot through the swingin’ café doors. Unlike the saloon in the other town, no one pays you a lick of attention here. It ain’t until you make your way up to the bar as a matter of fact, that you start gettin’ eyes.
“Well hell-llo there honey.” A large portly man with a great big gold tooth right in the middle of his face gives you the once-over, “Are you lost?”
Your eye twitches ever so slightly at the petname, but you put on a cool face and bat your lashes, knowin’ just how to play this particular game.
“No sir, my cousin and I are just passin’ through.” You explain, lookin’ for someone who works there, “Might there be a spot open for us to have a drink and crust of bread?”
“For a face like that, you bet your ass there is.” The bartender, a man with slim sharp features stands up from wherever he was crouchin’ behind the bar counter. He wipes the counter with a fresh cloth before slingin’ the thing over his shoulder.
The bartender puts a plate of food in front of you, some buttered bread and nuts that you happily crunch down.
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, that there’s a lady.” The portly man with the gold tooth points a finger in the bartender’s direction, makin’ you chuckle.
“Naw it’s alright, I ain’t so proper that a couple cuss words will do me any offense.” You wink at him, watchin’ as he gets off his stool at the bar, and offers it to you.
You sit on the stool in his place, and he leans up against his elbow on the counter. You try not to wrinkle your nose at how bad his breath smells, keepin’ up that pleasant smile.
“I’m Amos, why don’t you let me buy you a drink?” He asks, and your eyes flick to the doors with hesitation.
“That’d be mighty kind of you, thank you Amos.” Knowing to never ever refuse a drink or else risk gettin’ branded as disrespectful, you chew on your lip, “Although, I should probably wait for my cousin. He’s just over yonder at the drug store, but he’ll be right back when he’s done.”
“Well when he comes on in I’ll buy him a drink too!” Amos lets out a hearty laugh, slaps a couple coins down on the counter.
“I speak for the both of us when I say we appreciate the generosity immensely.” You smile, wondering what the fuck is taking Kylo so long.
“What’ll you have?” The bartender accepts the coins, pulls a big glass out from behind the counter and gestures to the three different barrel taps he’s got on hand.
“I ain’t picky.” You shake your head, not wantin’ to be fussy.
You’d had a taste of just about every kind of alcohol there was, from Pabst and Budweiser to home-distilled ‘shine. There wasn’t nothin’ you couldn’t swallow, even if you did prefer water above all else. The bartender fills up the glass with the frothy gold of some home brew, and knowin’ the norms, knowin’ how it’d be a sign of weakness to sip your drink, you throw back a big gulp, wipin’ a droplet or two away from your chin with the back of your hand, much to the cheers and applause around you.
“Damn! A woman who can hold her liquor deserves it, don’t you think, ‘Tidge?” Amos slaps the bar top, regardin’ you with another hearty chuckle.
“I sure do.” The bartender, ‘Tidge, gives you a freckled smile.
You look over your shoulder once again, and still no sign of Kylo.
Well, you think to yourself, if he’s going to take his sweet fuckin’ time, then you might as well get comfortable. Besides, couldn’t hurt to get on the town’s sweet side, in case you ever need to come moseying back through this way.
“I like that name, is it short for somethin’?” You turn your attention back towards the bartender, admiring his features.
He’s handsome, in a gangly sort of way. Those cheekbones could cut a man from how sharp they were, everything about him angular and severe, right down to his eyes, a swirling blue-green-grey that you couldn’t quite place. And then of course his hair, a bright orange with more yellow than red in it, you’re sure you’d be able to spot this man from just about anywhere in the town – maybe that’s why he was bartender.
“Armitage, but ain’t nobody calls me that unless I’m in trouble for somethin’, ya see.” He winks at you, his accent lilting and even as he wipes wipes wipes the counter and nonchalantly asks, “What might your name be?”
“Mary, and my cousin’s Benjamin.” You lie straight through your smiling teeth, and he smiles back.
He’s about to open his mouth to say something else, when another employee, a server of some kind, sticks his head out from a side door behind the counter and whistles for Armitage’s attention.
“Hey boss!” The server calls, “There’s a man out here askin’ about some cattle, says he wants to talk to you.”
At that, Armitage throws the towel down and groans, checkin’ the pocket-watch he pulls out of his vest.
“Aw shit,” He mutters to himself, callin’ back, “Tell Joey I’ll be right out! Pardon me Miss Mary, but business is business.”
You only nod, liftin’ your glass of half-drunk whiskey in response, and Armitage leaves.
The swingin’ doors of the saloon give way once again, and this time, finally, Kylo arrives. You can see him through the reflection of the tarnished silver mirror that sits up on the wall behind the bar, likely for reasons like this; so even the regulars at the bar can get a looksee at whoever happens to be comin’ and goin’.
You take another swig of your drink, watch through the silver as Kylo is stopped by a gentleman by the door.
“Hold on there partner, check your guns in.” The gentleman says, a hand on Kylo’s massive chest, stoppin’ him from walking in any further. “Thems the rules.”
You try to hide your grin at the fact that you had been so underestimated to not be stopped, but then again, Kylo was really askin’ for trouble just by walkin’ in, what with his naturally intimidating demeanor. You wonder if he’s going to fight the old man on that, but shockingly, he hands his pistol over without any hesitation.
“Whatever you say, sir.” Kylo gives a nod, before searching for you with a tentative, “Mary?”
“Over here Benji.” At the sound of your ‘name’, you turn and throw a hand up for Kylo to see.
“So this is the cousin, eh?” Amos slurps his beer loudly, as if sizing Kylo up and down, trying to figure out if that’s a fight he would win.
“Yep.” You reply, tryin’ your damn best to not regard Kylo with anything more than platonic interest as he weaves his way through the saloon.
Heat burns in your cheeks from how he doesn’t take his eyes off of you, even in that menacing scowl he’s got plastered to his face, he doesn’t once look away. To him, you could have been the only woman in the entire saloon, and for all he knew, you might as well be. Even without his gun, Kylo still looks like the most deadly man in the entire bar, just from sheer stature and attitude.
It’s a good look, not that you’d tell him that.
You don’t get a chance to tell him anything, because as soon as he comes and sidles up next to you, he slips an arm around your waist, protective – possessive, sizin’ Amos up and down in reutnr, a challenge of his own.
“We were startin’ to think you didn’t exist.” Amos grunts into his glass.
“Here I am, in the flesh.” Kylo’s voice is deep, deadly. It sends a shiver up your spine, you can feel the crackle of tension radiating off of him, so to mitigate any potential disaster, you push a full glass of whiskey into his hand, makin’ Kylo smile softly at you and asking, “How much for the drinks…?”
“This kind gentleman here took care of them for us.” You nod carefully towards Amos, who is lookin’ a lot less friendly right about now, now that he’s got his eye on the way Kylo pulls your body a little closer to his.
“Oh, well in that case, your next one’s on me.” Kylo pulls out a coin, balances it on his thumb and flicks it up into the air.
Amos catches it with ease, and grunts out something that you think might be a thank you.
“Benji, is it?” Another man’s voice sounds from just behind the two of you, and both you and Kylo freeze up for a split second, before quickly recovering and tryin’ your best to act natural.
“Depends on who’s askin’.” Kylo responds, turnin’ to see who might be inquiring about him.
There’s a table just off to the side, four chairs, only three of them filled. A gruff lookin’ man with ruddy red hair and a freckled face cracks his knuckles, gestures to the empty chair across from him. You swallow, lookin’ at the pile of cards that have been left abandoned on the table.
“We’ve just lost a player, if you’d care to join.” The man says.
You knew enough to know that when a man offers somethin’ like that, it’s more of a dare. And there ain’t no faster way to get into a fight, than by shyin’ away from a dare. Kylo knows this too, and despite the conversation y’all had earlier about him not bein’ a gambler, he knows he can’t not play at least one hand.
“Alright, but just once.” He says as much, using your presence as an excuse, “Wouldn’t do to go leavin’ my cousin all by her lonesome.”
Giving him a very cautious look, you will him not to do anything stupid. Armitage will be back soon and hopefully he’ll bring some protein with him, and you can enjoy a proper lunch and inquire about a possible place to stay for the night. It would be bad, for anything to happen now.
Kylo walks over to the table, takes the seat.
“What’s this?” He points to the little pile of cards, and you get the uneasy feeling that something bad is going to happen anyway, despite your silent pleas.
“That’s the hand he left behind.” The gruff man smokes on a fat cigar, blows smoke out of his nose, sucks across blackened teeth.
Curiously, Kylo lifts the cards just enough to see somethin’ that he don’t like, and he immediately puts them back down on the table.
“I’d rather not take ‘em, if that’s alright. Deal me a new hand.” Kylo requests, and that, it would seem, was the wrong move to make.
You hold your breath, eyes boring into the back of Kylo’s skull, hand itchin’ for the gun you’ve got hidden on your person, the gun that you’d be willin’ to throw Kylo at a moment’s notice, should he need it.
“It ain’t alright.” The gruff man shakes his head, his eyes grey like steel as he regards the pile, “You seen ‘em, you play ‘em.”
“That don’t seem fair.” Kylo points out, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I don’t give a shit about fair.” The man is unmoving, unwavering, not once breaking eye contact with him as he repeats, “You seen ‘em, you play ‘em.”
“And if’n I don’t?” Kylo asks.
The clinking sound of a holster buckle is what captures everyone’s attention, every single person in the saloon.
Amos, the card table, all the women and children, hell even that three-man band stop playin’, and all turn to look at him, at Kylo, who is now standin’ on the other side of the table, starin’ down the barrel of a gun.
The gruff man stands too, holds the gun level in one hand, holds the cigar in his other.
You itch to throw your gun to Kylo, itch to shoot the man dead yourself, but you don’t move a muscle.
Nobody in the entire saloon moves a single muscle.
“Now I don’t want this to get ugly, particularly not in front of my sweet cousin right over there, so I’m gonna give you a chance.” Kylo has the nerve to say, as he puts his hands up in good faith. He speaks lowly, quietly, so low that the saloon goes silent to hear him. “I’ll give you three seconds to go on over to that there desk and deposit your gun with the clerk at the door, which you shoulda done upon entering as is part of the rules of this here establishment.”
In response, the gruff man only pulls back the trigger, a mockin’ tone to his voice when he echoes Kylo’s earlier words of, “And if’n I don’t?”
You’re just about to lunge in and help him, when all of a sudden, Kylo lifts his leg and slams his boot down on the table, and before you can even shout to ask what the fuck he’s doing, you realize that the long wooden plank wasn’t secured down enough to be stable, and by kicking down on his end, the other end of the plank flies straight up, knockin’ the man’s hand upward, the barrel of the gun pointed right at his chin, the jolt of movement firin’ the trigger, bullet shootin’ straight up through the man’s head.
The crowd is stunned, speechless, watching in shock as the plank levels out on the table again, as Kylo kicks it down down down again, three more bullets flyin’ up through the man’s skull, blood spattering spraying onto the faces of the people in the general vicinity, screams and gasps at the hot hiss of red landin’ on their clothes.
Everyone is frozen, watches as the man’s body finally gives way to death, and thuds and thunks down to the floor.
The top of this man’s head is completely blown out, and Kylo doesn’t even so much as blink an eye, even now that he’s got blood on his own clothes.
“Y’all saw how I warned him?” Kylo barks out to the crowd, and they recoil more from this than they did from the shooting.
“We saw.” They reply nearly in unison.
“Anybody got anything they want to say about it?” Kylo dares, but when no response comes, “Good. Now where’s the fuckin’ bartender when you need him?”
Almost as if on cue, Armitage comes back through the side door, clapping away dirt from his palms.
All eyes shift to him, and Armitage has a look of confusion on his face for one second, one split second, before it morphs through devastation, to rage.
“Brian!” He calls out with the sort of anguish that makes you think Kylo picked the wrong gambler to kill.
“Oh shit.” You mutter under your breath, especially as Armitage jumps over the bar and rushes to the fallen man’s side.
“Which one of you sons of bitches killed my brother??” Armitage screams, so red in the face that you’re afraid he’s going to burst.
It’s then, that Armitage whirls around and gets an eyeful of Kylo – the kind of eyeful that means he knows that ain’t no Benjamin.
“Oh shit!” You hiss, hand slowly, carefully, creepin’ towards your gun.
“You!” Armitage seethes, leveling a bloodied finger in Kylo’s direction as he races back to the bar to grab a rifle, checks the chamber to make sure she’s fully loaded, and immediately fires a shot that blast through the wood of the table, sending the crowd shouting and screaming, racing out of the saloon to avoid bein’ struck. “I thought I told you to never step foot into this goddamn place again!”
Kylo makes a mad dash for you then, grabs you by the arm and yanks you back back back as Armitage reloads his double barrel.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you knew him?” You seethe, smacking at him, wanting to punch his fucking teeth out, wondering why he led you into the belly of a hornet’s nest.
The blast of bullets shatters the window above you, and you both duck your heads so as to not get struck by the falling glass.
“No time to explain, on my count, you make a run for the door and get the horses.” Kylo mutters, entirely too calm and collected, making you want to punch him even harder.
“Here take my gun – ” You offer him, but as another explosion sounds off a little too close to you this time, Kylo unveils two more guns of his own.
“Don’t need it,” Kylo grins, and for the first time, you see a sparkle in that blind eye of his. He scoffs, “What, you didn’t think I’d hand them all over, did you?”
You just widen your eyes at him, incredulous.
“Three, two -- run!” Kylo shouts, popping up over the makeshift barrier he’s yanked you behind, and immediately starts shooting, giving you the cover you need to make a bolt for it.
The band strikes up again, piano and fiddle and harmonica filling the emptiness of silence, punctuated by the sounds of struggle as a great big fights breaks out among the drunks and gamblers that Kylo has so offended.
It feels like a battleground, the way you dodge the bullets that zip past you. If you had made any friends in the time sittin’ at that bar, you’ve lost ‘em now, that much is clear. Amos has no reservation aimin’ straight for your heart, but your quick fingers pull your trigger before he can even manage, his dead body stumbling and tumbling like a bowling ball, knockin’ down the pins of his friends as they try to pin you with bullets of their own.
Run run running, you try to shove your way through the panic of the crowd who keeps scramblin’ like chickens with their heads cut off, screaming and hollerin’ from the way that bullets keep hittin’ and springin’ off metal and blasting into wood, holes riddlin’ the walls, lettin’ streams of sunlight in.
You shoot and shoot, punching and kicking your way through the crowd, knowing that behind you, Kylo can’t be too far.
You can tell because you can hear his grunting shouts, his adrenaline filled calls of rage as he too blasts bullets into the bodies of men, overturning barrels and tables, crashes and explosions going off behind you.
On the single street, you can see some of the townsfolk racing to the jail, and that sends a spike of terror down your back.
The jail meant one thing, and one thing only – the Sheriff.
Panic simmers and bubbles up through you, and you keep running, running towards the church where your horses have been passively entertaining themselves with a trough of water and a bucket of feed.
“Aggie! Sam!” You whistle for their attention, and at once, they turn their big heads to look at you.
Agnes braces herself for you to hoist yourself up onto her saddle, and you frantically undo the tie of their reins around the posts that they’ve been good enough to not wander away from. Holding Sam’s reins in your hands, you kick your heels into Agnes’ side, and great big plumes of dust and dirt kick up under the horses’ hooves as the great beasts immediately break into fast fast fast gallop.
Racing closer closer closer to the saloon, you can still see them fighting and shooting at one another on the inside.
“Come on, come on!” You’re screaming at Kylo from down the road, demanding that he hear you, that he get outside already, because you can’t slow these horses down once they’ve gotten like this, and you can’t turn back once you’ve passed the saloon, not with the commotion from behind, not with the way the Sheriff is now shootin’ at you, at your horses.
“God dammit get out here!” You scream again, lookin’ behind you, takin’ aim and shootin’ the Sheriff clean at the wrist, blowin’ his hand off, the gun explodin’ off with it, bullet ricocheting off one of the hangin’ signs, bouncin’ back and hittin’ the Sheriff in the chest.
You’re almost at the saloon, almost there, and Kylo still ain’t out front, heartbeat pounding pounding pounding in your chest as you approach the doors closer and closer, as you can hear the sound of gunfire and broken glass from inside – but then -- !
Then there he is!
You see him running through the saloon towards the front doors, and somehow, impossibly somehow, as you pass the doors, you throw Sam’s reins, and Kylo catches them, his long legs running alongside Sam’s breakneck pace, jumping up onto her without her slowing down one bit.
“Yes!!” You let out a triumphant shout of adrenaline, before whipping Agnes’s reins and urging her ever faster.
You and Kylo grin at one another, victors in this chance game with death, cheatin’ your lives once again, as you ride ride ride out into the desert, not lookin’ back to see if anyone follows.
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