#it feels nice to get back into the cowboysthetic

[mindfulwrath]

Stick ‘Em Up

The final prize fic for the MWDF works contest! For @southlovesowls, who requested "your take on what a heist would look like with the deputies (Geoff, jack, Jeremy, Ryan, ray) when they were outlaws."

Words: 3,509 Warnings: Casual misogyny, violence, blood & gore, alcoholism

It began, as it so often did, with a train.

"Anythin'?" Geoff asked, laid out on his belly on a rocky scarp.

"Not a puff," said Jack, squinting through her cracked spyglass. "Maybe they hit a real rockslide or somethin'."

"Or they're just late."

"Or they're just late. I'll holler if I see anythin'."

Geoff clapped her on the shoulder and shimmied back from the ledge. He dusted himself off, resettled his hat on his head, and made his way back to the wagon. It was looking more busted up than usual, long overdue for some maintenance. The horses were all hitched up a few yards away, munching saplings and farting. As Geoff approached, Gavin heaved himself up from under the wagon and trotted out to meet him.

"Hey pal," said Geoff, taking a knee to scratch him behind the ears. "You ain't comin' with us, li'l buddy."

"Yeah, I didn't so much figure I would be."

Geoff looked up. Dooley was hovering by the horses, looking awfully disappointed.

"I was talkin' to the dog," Geoff said.

"Oh," said Dooley, his cheeks reddening. "Yeah, I—I knew that."

"'Course you did."

"I did! I was—answerin' for the dog."

"Sure you were." Geoff stood up again and nudged Gavin with his foot. "Mosey on, Gavvy. Where's Ray and Ryan?"

"Two guesses," Dooley said sourly, cocking his head at the wagon.

"Can't say as I'm surprised," Geoff grumbled. "Good damn thing the train's late, or else we'd miss it. Those horses all saddled up and ready to go?"

"Yessir. Went ahead and watered 'em, too, since it's gettin' hot already."

"Good thinkin'. If it's too much longer, you might wanna walk 'em around a li'l, make sure they don't get stiff."

"Will do, Boss. Uh—you think it's gonna be too much longer?"

"Hell if I know. All the shit that's been goin' wrong lately, wouldn't surprise me if the damn train didn't show up at all."

"Train's always late."

Geoff jumped about a foot in the air and whipped around. Ray was standing right behind him, his poncho hanging crooked over his double bandoleers, a permanently sardonic expression affixed to his face.

"Jesus, Ray!" Geoff cried. "How long you been there?"

Ray shrugged. "Couple minutes," he said. "Train's always late, don't know why you're gettin' all chicken-shit about it."

"Go fuck yourself, pal," Geoff said, rolling his eyes.

"Shit, right now? All right, Mr. Boss-man sir, but it's gonna take me a couple minutes to get it up again. Hope that train's real late or else I'll be shootin' with three guns."

"Harr-harr, ain't you a goddamn riot."

"We got smoke," Jack called from the scarp.

"Awright, time to go," said Geoff. "Jack, come on back, our li'l rockslide ain't gonna hold 'em up for long!"

"Comin'!"

"Guess I better go fuck myself real quick," said Ray. He ambled off to the horses, where Dooley was making final preparations, and was joined shortly by Jack.

"Jackass," Geoff muttered. "Ryan, where the hell you at?"

Ryan popped out the back of the wagon, pulling his hair back. He flashed a grin at Geoff as he stepped down.

"He was behind you 'bout thirty seconds, at most," he said, heading for the horses, too. "If you were wonderin'."

Geoff caught his arm. Ryan hung back, expectant. There was a fresh set of bruises blooming on his neck.

"Hey, you gonna be all right?" Geoff asked, keeping his voice down.

Frowning, Ryan said, "Sure thing. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well—I don't know, just I figured you mighta been a li'l shook up after last time, that's all."

"Ain't nothin' bad happen to me. Ain't nothin' to be shook up about."

"You sure? 'Cuz I don't want you freezin' up in the middle, or God forbid, anythin' worse happenin' to you."

"I won't freeze up and won't nothin' bad happen to me," Ryan promised, patting his hand. "And even if it does, I got the ol' Kentucky Ram hisself lookin' out for me."

Geoff smoothed his mustache. "Don't get to countin' on me, now."

"No, suh, wouldn't dream of it," said Ryan. He slipped out of Geoff's grip and started off after Ray, tossing a left-handed salute over his shoulder before breaking into a jog.

Shaking his head, Geoff let out a sigh.

"Damn fool's got ten times more luck than sense," he said to himself.

"Hey, uh, Boss Ramsey?"

He turned. Dooley was back, hat in hand.

"Oh, right. Uh—stay here, make sure the wagon don't go nowhere. And keep an eye on Gavin. And the other horses. And if we get caught—"

"Come and get y'all?"

Geoff blinked, pursed his lips, and inclined his head.

"Uh, yeah," he said, rerouting from the threat he'd been about to make. "Yeah, you come and get us, if we get caught. Just don't spend too much money doin' it. And don't let Gavin get ran over or nothin', neither."

"Yessir. I'll keep an eye out."

"Two eyes, Dooley."

"Yessir."

"Good. Now go make sure nobody's gonna see that wagon."

He snapped out a salute and scurried off. Geoff joined the others. Once he'd mounted up, he pulled his bandanna over his mouth and nose.

"Awright, boys," he said. "Let's go rob us a train."

Jack shoved her way into the first-class car, her gun pressed up under the conductor's jaw. Ray whisked in behind her, drawing both revolvers before anybody could get up. Geoff came after him, and Ryan brought up the rear.

"Afternoon, folks," Geoff said to the sea of waxen faces. "I'll be conductin' y'all's holdup today. Now if everybody stays calm and quiet, won't nobody have to get hurt, and y'all can go on y'all's way not much the worse for wear."

"This is outrageous," a woman spat. She was dressed like a peacock, only ten times as frumpy. "Where is the security on this—"

"Nice hat, bitch," said Ray, and shot it off.

She screamed and dove for cover under the seats. The car erupted in a clamor of gasps and shouts. The conductor wriggled in Jack's grasp, and she dealt him a ringing smack with the butt of the gun, not quite enough to knock him out. Geoff clenched his fists and breathed deep. The longer this took, the worse it would wind up. There was bound to be security somewhere on the train, U. S. Marshals or Union Pacific's own hired goons, and they'd figure out pretty quick that the Western Union car wasn't the one being hit.

Especially if there was any more gunfire.

"And let that be a lesson to y'all!" he called out, raising his voice to be heard over the clamor. "Next dumbass who talks outta turn is gonna get shot! Now my associate here—" He tipped his head at Ryan— "is gonna come down the aisle, and y'all are gonna hand over any valuables you got to hand, and then we'll be on our way."

"Everybody get up, c'mon, get off those doughy asses," said Ray, gesturing with his guns. Ryan took out the first burlap sack and offered it to the first seat on the left—an elderly couple, the man nervously wiping his glasses and the woman clutching her pearls.

"We'd be ever so much obliged if y'all could donate t' our cause," he said, sweet as a peach. "We won't take nothin' essential, such as your spectacles, suh—but ma'am, I think you will most likely survive without that necklace. C'mon, now, divest yourselves of your worldly wealth."

With trembling hands, they complied. Ray paced up and down the aisle like a coyote trapped between two fences. Geoff watched the passengers as they took off their watches and jewelry, keen for any hint of a weapon.

"Thank you kindly," Ryan said to the elderly couple. "Just think of it this way: the Bible says it's well nigh impossible for a rich man to get into Heaven. We're doin' y'all's immortal souls a favor. Have a blessed day, now."

He moved on, keeping up a running litany of platitudes in that soothing voice. The bag filled steadily. The conductor fidgeted. Jack kneed him in the leg, warning.

"Boss, they're startin' to get suspicious," she said, with her eyes on something out the window. "We better keep this short."

"Kid!" Geoff snapped. "Quit proselytizin' and get the damn money!"

"Oh, yessuh, so sorry, suh," Ryan effused. He rounded on the next pair like a rabid dog, snarling, "Put the fuckin' money in the bag!"

The two young women yelped and shoved their valuables into the bag. Ryan tipped his hat to them, grinning under his bandanna, before moving on.

The car filled with a low murmur, frightened glances tossed back and forth across the aisle. Geoff drummed his fingers on the butt of his revolver, watching, waiting, praying. A bead of sweat crawled down his back. He caught Ray's eye as he paced up the aisle and flicked a glance out the window. Ray followed his gaze, and his face hardened.

Vagabond's gonna get y'all.

Geoff's blood ran cold. The voice had come from nowhere, low and vicious and hateful, like a diamondback creeping underfoot—

"Who the fuck said that?" Ray snarled, whipping around with both revolvers. The whole car ducked, amidst muffled screams and cursing—all except one man, tall as a pine tree with a mustache like an oil slick and eyes like steel.

"I did," he said—or more squeaked, because both Ray's guns were pointing at him now.

"You wanna say it again to my fuckin' face?" Ray asked, walking up to him.

The man gulped. Towards the back of the car, Ryan tied up the burlap sack and hung it on his belt. Instead of starting to fill the other one, though, he eased out his gun.

"Naw, c'mon, say it again," said Ray. "Make my fuckin' day, you beanpole-lookin' ass bitch. Say it so's everybody can hear you."

With a great mustering of grit, the man said, "The Vagabond is gonna get y'all."

"Theeee Vagabond!" Ray hollered, and laughed. "Dumbass. You think the fuckin' tooth fairy's gonna show up, too?"

"Maybe not today," said the man. "Maybe not tomorrow. But y'all's day is comin'."

"How 'bout in the next ten seconds?" Ray asked.

"Don't you do it," Geoff hissed. Ryan was watching, quiet and curious. His finger was on the trigger of his gun, ready to pull. The goons down by the Western Union car had gathered together and were making eyes in their direction.

"Six," Ray said. "Five. Four. Three. Where's he at, hombre? Two. One and a half! Vagabond, hey, you dumb bitch, come get me!"

"Don't you do it, Ray!"

"One. Zero. Sorry, hombre, looks like he ain't comin'."

BANG. BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG.

The man's body jiggled like a pudding before collapsing in a puddle of blood. There were more screams. Ray blew the smoke off his revolver, popped it open and tipped the casings out.

"Anybody else got somethin' stupid to say?" he asked, reloading. "'Cuz I got a whole 'nother gun and a shitload more bullets."

Nobody said a goddamn word.

"Fine. Hand over all the fuckin' money and jewelry you got, and I prob'ly won't shoot nobody else."

"Fuck!" Jack spat. She shoved the conductor to the ground, kicked open the car's door, and took a potshot down the train. Somebody shot back. "Boss, we gotta go, now!"

Geoff grabbed her by the arms and hauled her into the aisle. Ray leapt up into the dead man's seat and shot out the window.

"Go, go!" Geoff said, pushing Jack down the aisle. He whipped out his gun and set his back against hers, keeping an eye on the passengers. "Well folks, it's been real fun, but we gotta be headin' on now! Thanks much for y'all's generosity, and have a good trip!"

Ray emptied his revolver and swapped out for the other one. A bullet smashed through the window in front of him, spraying glass. He flinched, cursed, and shot back.

"Get the kid out," Geoff said to Jack. "Ray! C'mon, we're leavin'!"

"I'm comin'!" Ray snapped. He reloaded one revolver one-handed from his bandoleer while he kept shooting with the other one.

"Don't wait for us, just go," Jack said to Ryan. "They're gonna shoot, but you just ride."

She ushered him out the door, pausing only to yank the purse out of a man's hand on her way out. Geoff backed towards the door, one eye on Ray and one on the passengers.

"Ray!"

He leapt down and dashed for the door. Geoff bolted for the horses. Jack was already mounted up. Ryan's horse was kicking up a fuss, dancing and tossing its head. Geoff snagged its reins and it nearly yanked him off his feet.

"Shit, fuck, goddammit—"

A gunshot snapped out behind them. Geoff whipped around. Ray was backing out of the train car, reloading again. A window exploded. Ray shot back before the glass even hit the ground.

"Put him on my horse!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"You don't—"

Ray fired off another couple shots before sprinting to them. He grabbed Ryan around the waist and threw him up onto his own horse. Ryan scrambled to get situated. Ray jumped up after him and sat down backwards. He popped off another volley towards the train cars.

A pair of hulking enforcers clambered out from between the cars farther down the line. Geoff dashed to his horse, firing from the hip. They ducked back, but as soon as he stopped shooting, they popped out again. Geoff leapt into the saddle and wheeled his horse around.

"Let's go, move, move!"

They lit out like bats out of hell. Bullets whizzed by, muzzle flashes lit up the clouds of dust behind them. Ray dropped to one gun, keeping his elbow locked through Ryan's to stay on the horse. A bullet smacked into Jack's horse and it screamed, tumbling into the dust. Ray tried to jump off after her. Ryan didn't let him.

"Sonnuva—"

"I got her!" Geoff shouted, doubling back. "Y'all go, I got her!"

She was on her feet and shooting by the time he got there. He heaved her up onto his horse. One of the goons had grabbed Ryan's abandoned horse and was riding after them, hellbent.

"Take us under the scarp, I got an idea," Jack said. Geoff kicked his horse and shouted. Ryan and Ray started up the switchback trail up to their encampment. A bullet whizzed past his ear.

"Come on, Blue, come on!" he said, leaning down over the horse's neck. Jack shot back at their pursuer, missing every shot. "Is he gainin'?"

"Of course he's gainin', just keep goin'!"

"Where the hell—"

"Just keep goin'!"

The horse's flanks heaved. Foam flecked its mouth. Dust covered everything. Geoff's ears rang with gunfire. He glanced back over his shoulder. The goon was bearing down on them, gun drawn, teeth bared—

CRACK.

He toppled sideways out of the saddle, bounced, rolled, and did not get up.

"Yeehaw!" Jack cried, punching the air. "Atta boy! C'mon, Geoff, let's get that dumbass horse back."

Geoff reigned in. Jack hopped down. While she hurried back to catch Ryan's horse, Geoff shaded his eyes and looked up to the ridge.

A familiar, poncho-clad silhouette raised a carbine rifle in salute.

Geoff flipped it off.

"Awright, Ray," said Geoff, dropping himself down next to the campfire. "What in the goddamn hell is wrong with you?"

Ray looked up from his dinner. The sun had set, and they'd thrown together a little camp about fifteen miles from the railroad. Firelight danced off of slender pines, and the glittering haul from the robbery. The smell of cooked meat and pine straw filled the air. Dooley was off tending to the horses, and Jack was walking Gavin around to keep him from getting into the food. Ryan had settled in a ways off, absorbed in his whittling.

"What?" said Ray.

"You know what. Back at the train."

"Thought I was savin' y'all's lives. You're welcome."

"It wouldn't've been needed if you hadn't started shootin'!"

Ray shrugged. "Sometimes a bitch needs killin'."

"No, he didn't. And you ain't have to go out on that whole damn monologue, neither."

"Oh, all right, yeah, so that's what you're all fucked up about," said Ray, rolling his eyes. "Grow a pair, Ramsey."

"Maybe on the day you grow some common goddamn sense, you trigger-happy fuck! Maybe on the day you learn to keep your fuckin' mouth shut!"

"Suck my dick, you don't pay me enough to keep quiet. You know what you do pay me for? To shoot folks. Sorry for doin' my fuckin' job, I guess."

Gavin came trotting up from the darkness, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He climbed into Geoff's lap and tried to lick his face. Geoff shoved him off.

"Get the fuck outta here," he snapped, before returning to Ray. "It ain't your job to shoot first. It is your job to shoot second, once they're already shootin' at us. It sure as hell ain't your job to go engagin' in dumbass stunts like the one you pulled in there!"

"Fine, fuck you, whatever. Next time I'll let the motherfuckers ride your bitch ass down, how'd you like that?"

"Ray," Geoff growled.

"C'mon, now, Boss, ain't no call to get worked up about it," Ryan said. His eyes were on his hands, his voice casual. "Even if the Vagabond's real, it ain't like he was there to hear it."

"I don't got a problem with Ray disrespectin' the Vagabond, Ryan, I got a problem with him fillin' folks with lead just for openin' their damn mouths!"

"Oh, sure," said Ryan. "S'pose that's the reason you been lookin' over your shoulder all evenin', too."

"Marshals," said Geoff, heat rising to his cheeks. "Could be the Marshals are gonna come after us."

"Geoff, it's all right," Jack said, coming up and settling down by the fire. "Ryan's right, there ain't no call to get worked up about it. Gavin and I been all over hell and gone, and there's nobody out here but us. We got our cash, we got away, we're all in one piece—that's a good day!"

Geoff wiggled his mustache. He folded his arms and heaved a sigh.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Good job, everybody. We'll head on for Osceola in the mornin', see if we can't get this shit pawned off. How much we got in cash, meantime?"

"'Bout twenty bucks," said Ray. He tossed the remainder of his cooked rabbit to Gavin, who snapped it up in a heartbeat.

"Ain't great, but it'll hold us for a while," said Jack. "We'll prob'ly get twice that from the jewelry."

"Might almost cover the cost of ammo," Geoff muttered. "Gonna need another horse, too."

Ray got up, licking his fingers. He went over to Ryan and pulled on his hair.

"Hey," he said.

"Hm?" said Ryan, looking up at him.

"C'mon, I need some goddamn unwindin'."

Ryan smiled and put his knife away. "Sure thing, honey."

With another, rougher pull on Ryan's hair, Ray stalked away into the woods. Ryan blew the wood chips off his whittling, stuck it in his pocket, and followed.

With the two of them gone, quiet descended. Gavin slunk over again and sniffed around Geoff's face, looking for more rabbit. Geoff scratched him behind the ears absently.

"You all right, Geoff?" Jack asked.

"I don't know," Geoff sighed. "I don't know. I'm startin' to wonder if maybe...."

"Maybe what?"

He shook his head. Gavin climbed up into his lap and sat down, despite the fact that he was two sizes too big for it. He licked Geoff's ear, tail thumping hopefully.

"Maybe it oughtta have stayed just us," Geoff said.

"What, and set those funny fuckers loose on the world?" said Jack. "Hell naw. We'll temper 'em down in time, just needs a li'l more workin'. Ryan's already got Ray about half as hot as he used to be."

"Yeah, I guess."

Another, longer silence, filled with the crackling of the fire and the distant snorting and nickering of the horses as Dooley brushed them down. The exhaustion was catching up with Geoff, laying heavy on his shoulders, grim and foggy in his head. His heart had not yet stopped racing. His ears had not yet stopped ringing.

It was either going to be a sleepless night, or a drunken one.

"It's all right to be scared," Jack said softly. "You got every reason."

"It ain't that I'm scared, Jack. It's that there ain't a damn thing I can do about it. So long as we're outlaws, it's ... always gonna be there. He is always gonna be there. Waitin'. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but ... someday."

"Well," Jack said slowly. "What if we wasn't outlaws?"

Geoff blinked. He tugged on Gavin's ear. He sat forward and fixed her with a look.

"I'm listenin'," he said.