Bill Hawkes's Revenge

Old Bounty-Hunter has debt to settle with fearless outlaw Clyde Smith. Feedback accepted.

1

The saloons of Torshem were crammed with men, weary from a day’s work. The streets soon grew deserted, until the only sounds were whispers on the wind. The rain poured down, and thunder rumbled overhead.
A man past fifty rested in a chair outside the sheriff’s department. He jolted awake, and his Stetson tumbled to the ground. He rubbed the fatigue from his eye and adjusted his hat. His fingers brushed over the scar that was once his eye, and he sighed. I’m far too old to go seeking revenge. Bill Hawkes stiffened at the thrum of hoof beats, and his hand fell to his guns.
An old, portly man skidded to a halt and clambered off his horse. He was balding, and what little hair remained hung in thin, wiry strands. He wore a shirt, adorned with patterns of gold, and a watch hung from his pocket. Bill stood and loosened the grip on his guns. Who in god’s name does he think he is? He’s like to be robbed wearing that. He surveyed the area, and his eyes met Bill’s. He raised a pudgy hand, then waddled over. As he reached the sheriff’s department, he drew in a lungful of air and grasped the banister.
“Howdy,” Bill said. “Don’t reckon I’ve seen you round before. You new to town?”
“I’ve passed through a couple times, sir, though briefly.” He straightened. “I’m Carlton, mayor of Torando. You need not introduce yourself, Mr. Hawkes. I’ve heard all about you. You’ve quite the reputation among us older folk.”
“I suppose I did, but no longer. I retired many years ago. Age took its toll on me as well as Tombstone.” He ran a finger over his eye; a habit whenever he thought of that day.
“Nasty business, I heard. Still, it’s quite a shame. I was rather hoping you’d be of help.”
“My thirst for killing ended long ago. Surely you could have your sheriff deal with the issue?”
“They killed him, Mister Hawkes. I caught wind of your whereabouts and hastened to find you. I can pay you money to do it. More than you can know what to do with. You could rebuild your reputation.”
“I don’t give a damn about money and reputation. It’s for the young, Carlton. I’ve retired, simple as that. You’ve wasted your time here.”
“Then what of revenge, Bill?” His gaze flickered to Bill’s scar. “Clyde Smith leads these outlaws. They call themselves the Red Mesa Riders. The group must be killed, so I’m giving you a chance to end what started all those years ago, Bill.”
A fire ignited within Bill, yet it was but a mere flicker; a memory of a past long gone. “I can’t, Mayor. I’ve retired and no longer thirst for blood. I’m no longer ‘Bill the Fearless’. I’m just Bill. That life was stripped along with my eye. I suggest you leave, Carlton, or it may end badly for you.”
“It’ll stay with you, Bill. You’ll never forget, no matter how hard you try. Clyde’s making quite the name for himself and has as much reputation as Billy the Kid. He’s feared throughout Texas and must be stopped.”
Carlton’s words stoked the fire in him, and he stood. “I’ll kill him, or die trying, but this is not for money or reputation, Carlton. It is merely to end this feud between me and him, so I may rest in peace.”
He hauled himself into his horse’s saddle and whirled her about. Mud sprayed from beneath Midnight’s hooves and splattered Carlton’s clothes. He cursed and swiped at it yet only made matters worse. Bill vanished into the night, and the mayor gazed after him, caked in mud. Then he disappeared into the nearest saloon. The wind and rain whipped about Bill’s face, yet it soothed his rage.
“I’m coming, Clyde.”

Torando was twice Torshem’s size, with a dozen rows of buildings that stretched for half a mile. The city folk milled about their days and paid Bill little heed. He led Midnight to the stables, and she whickered as a stable boy neared.
“A fine horse, sir.”
“She sure is.” He ran a hand down her black mane, then tossed the boy a fifty-cent piece. “You take care of her mind.”
He scanned the area, and his eyes fell upon a saloon: The Weeping Ale. Wanted posters lined the wall, Clyde’s face among them. Bastard’s sure to be around somewhere. No doubt about it. He strode into the saloon, and all eyes turned to regard him. A few faces paled, but Bill feigned ignorance and approached the bar.
One man stood, grabbed his Stetson, and hurried from the saloon. Bill withdrew a gold dollar coin and set it in front of the wary barman. He seized it with greedy hand and slipped it into his breast pocket.
“I’ll take a bourbon. Strongest you got.”
The barman nodded and set to rifling through the bottles of amber liquid.

2

Clyde Smith sat across from the saloon, a cheroot cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth. Torando was as fine a city to stay in as any, with much more freedom. The mayor, a fat little bastard, had refused them entry and summoned the sheriff. Clyde had killed him, then demanded hospitality to which the mayor agreed.
Clyde issued a puff of smoke, and it rose only to be swept away. Just then, the door to the Weeping Ale opened, and Jesse hurried out, skin pallid.
“Jesus Jesse! You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“It’s much worse, Clyde. It’s Bill Hawkes. I’m sure of it.”
Clyde’s grin faltered, and he reached for his gun. “My god! You got to be kidding. Bill Hawkes died in Tombstone. I saw it.”
“Like I said. Bastard won’t die no matter how many bullets you put in him. We've got to leave, Clyde. He’ll be on us in no time, and I don’t fancy a bullet between my eyes.”
“He’ll already know we’re here, Jesse. Bill’s always somewhere for a reason, and with him, death’s sure to follow. Go round up the others. We leave at once.” He cocked his gun. “I’ll shoot the bastard if he walks out them doors.”
Jesse hurried off, while Clyde sat, gun concealed within the folds of his cloak. Bloody bastard should have stayed dead. Would have been much better for me. His thoughts drifted to the day he had taken Bill’s eye. The man hadn’t screamed once, yet glared at Clyde with such hatred he had never known. Mud squelched beneath feet, and Clyde glanced at Jesse and the others.
Wyatt stepped forward, and his eyes glinted with malice. “Where’re we off to, boss? Heard Bill’s in town. Never got a chance to repay what he did.” He ran a finger down a silver scar that stretched from his jaw to his ear.
“I know, but no one, not even you, could be Bill in a gunfight, no matter the odds. We should leave quick as we can.”
“A shame. Suppose I’ll wait another time.”
They climbed into their saddles and galloped through the streets. The city folk glared after them, but Clyde paid them little heed. He risked a glance back, and a wave of goose prickles washed over him. His lungs seemed to close up as he gazed at the distant figure of Bill Hawkes. His one eye bore into Clyde, and anger radiated from him. Then they rounded the corner, and he issued a sigh.



3

The outlaws vanished around the corner and knocked Bill out of his reverie. He rushed to the paddocks, and his heart thudded in his chest. He had seen Clyde, the man who had haunted his dreams for close to twenty years. Rage had consumed him at the sight of the outlaw, and it had taken most his will to not draw his guns. He leapt into Midnight’s saddle and urged her out of the paddocks. The outlaws were halfway through the city, but his mare was quicker, and he drew nearer. He turned the corner and drew his guns.
The outlaws were less than a quarter mile away, Clyde’s grey-streaked stallion further ahead. Bastard’s out of luck this time. A man with a scar across his face broke away from the other outlaws and issued a long, shrill whistle.
“Remember me, Bill? It’s been a long time since you lost your eye. Maybe I’ll give you a reminder.”
Recognition dawned on Bill. It was Wyatt, Clyde’s oldest friend. Wyatt raised his gun, and his bullet slammed into Midnight’s eye. She shuddered, and Bill leapt off her as she struck the ground. Wyatt galloped toward him, but he rolled to the side and evaded the horse’s hooves. Bill fired at the stallion’s calf, and blood spurted from the wound as it fell. Wyatt tumbled beneath his horse. Bones crunched, and he cried out. Bill stood and strode over to Wyatt.
“Did you really think you’d have won, Wyatt?”
The outlaw chuckled. “I knew I was to die. My days are tiring, and I’d be glad to go.”
“You and Clyde have caused me pain beyond belief. I can’t forgive that.”
He raised his gun and drummed the trigger. Wyatt screamed as the bullets sank through his kneecaps. Bones shattered, and blood spilled in thick streams. Bill strode away from the outlaw and stowed his guns in their holsters. Wyatt called after him with promises of money, but Bill ignored him. Got to buy a new horse, then I’ll have this bastard once and for all.

4

Clyde and the others skidded to a halt as the sun made its descent. They dismounted in a ditch about ten feet deep, and Clyde issued a sigh. Wyatt, you old fool. You knew you couldn’t have faced him. Jesse approached and handed him a skin of water. He gulped it down.
“I knew how close you and Wyatt were. It’s a shame he’s gone.”
“We were the last of the Dry Creek Riders. Now, it’s just me.” He passed the flask to Jesse.
One of the outlaws struck flint against steel, and the small chips of wood caught fire. Flames licked up as Jesse fed it branches. Clyde rested his head against the ditch and exhaled. I swear I’ll kill the bastard. He won’t take any more from me. The outlaws sat about and tended to their guns or groomed their horses. Albert withdrew his own pistol and ran a hand along the smooth patterns of a snake.
“We’ll have to move, Clyde. I don’t fancy facing Bill.”
“We’ll leave when I feel ready. Leave me be.”
Jesse murmured something, then strode away. Clyde gazed into the flames, lost in the crackle of the wood. The sun sank behind the horizon, and he stared at the fire for what seemed like hours. A horse whickered nearby, and his head snapped up. Not one of ours. Sure, of it. He peered over the ditch, and his heart caught in his throat. Bill Hawkes rode up the path, atop a white mare.
“Put the fire out,” Clyde hissed, and Jesse doused the flames.
Thick plumes of black smoke rose into the air, and Clyde’s heart pounded in his chest. He’s sure to see us now. Should’ve let it burn. He braced himself for the bang of gunshots, yet they never came. Bill’s horse passed close by them, then continued. Clyde issued a sigh as the horse cantered up the path away from them until it faded into the distance. He didn’t see. The old bastard missed us. Then a gunshot rang out, and one of the men’s heads exploded in a spray of blood.

5

Bill grinned as one of the outlaws tumbled into the extinguished fire, his head a bloody ruin. The others scrambled about, whilst Bill leapt into the ditch opposite Clyde and his men. Gunshots rang out, and bullets punched into his horse. It shrieked and reared on its hind legs, then fell to the ground.
“You’re outnumbered, Bill, so why not come out and give in?”
Stones shuffled behind Bill, and he ducked just as a bullet struck the rocks where his head had been moments before. He wheeled around and fired with each revolver. The outlaw issued a gasp, glanced down at his torso, and fell, lifeless. One bullet had gone straight through his heart, while the other round had punched through his stomach.
“Is he dead, Ray?” one outlaw called in an anxious tone. “Is he?”
“Na, but your friend is,” Bill yelled back. All that separated them was fifteen feet of road, and he crouched in the ditch, his guns loaded. “Why not lay down your weapons, Clyde, so you don’t end up like Ray? I’ll spare the others, though I can’t guarantee you a quick death!”
“Fuck you, Bill! I’ll tear you to bloody pieces!”
“You could try, but I doubt you’d get far! Look what happened to Ray!”
“And you’ll be joining him, you two-faced bastard!” Clyde’s words hung in the air.
Bill fell silent and crawled out of the ditch. He glimpsed the outlaws and grinned. Where there were eight, there were now five.
Bill grunted as a bullet struck his shoulder, and he fired two rounds back. One man cried out, whilst another fell, blood spurting in a dark stream. The outlaws fired back, but he dived back into the ditch. Another gunshot, and pain erupted in his leg. He peered over the ditch and fired at the outlaw. Blood spilled over the sand as the man slid down the ditch.
He sat on the other side of the ditch, his Colts cocked and ready to fire. I’ll kill the other two and leave Clyde for last. He stood, startling the group, and fired. One bullet hit Clyde in the hand, and his gun fell through mangled fingers. The other round collided with one of the outlaws’ chests, and blood spurted. He glanced down in disbelief, then toppled into the flames.
Jesse Smith glared at him, eyes full of malice. “If I’m going to hell, then you’re coming with me.”
Bill raised his gun and fired two rounds. Blood jetted out of Jesse’s throat and chest as he slumped against the ditch. Clyde issued a cry and fired at Bill with his good hand. The bullet struck his shoulder, and he grunted. Clyde darted forward, a knife in his hand. He hacked a Bill, and pain exploded in his hand. He glanced down at his severed limb, and blood pulsed from the stump. His glare shifted to Clyde, and he struck the outlaw with the hilt of his gun.
He fell, and blood pooled down his head. He glared up at Bill yet made no move to attack him.
“Go and kill me, Bill. I have nothing to lose.” Clyde spread his arms wide. “You’ve taken it all.”
Bill was silent a moment. “You’re not worth it, Clyde. You can live with the destruction you brought upon yourself.”
Bill turned and limped away. Clyde stood and punched him in the gut as he turned. He stepped away, and Bill gaped at the knife, buried to the hilt. He swayed and raised his good hand, his fingers closed about a gun hilt. He hammered the gun hilt, and Clyde’s eyes widened as the bullets struck. He gave a short, sharp jerk as the bullets went through, issued a sigh, and slumped over.
Bill stepped away from Clyde’s prone body, his legs weak. His gun slipped through numb fingers, and he dropped to his knees. His fingers clasped about the knife hilt, yet he had little strength and struggled to pull it out. His vision blurred, and he glanced about. Four riders appeared in the distance, and Bill managed a weak smile as he fell to his side.
Mayor Carlton knelt beside Bill and called to him, yet he was deaf to the world. Carlton shook him and tried to staunch the blood with his clothes. I’ve had my revenge, he thought. There’s nothing left for me now. Bill issued a sigh and let the darkness consume him.