Lady Wild
(Part 1)
1.
The saloon was old and dusty, with the afternoon sun hardly penetrating through
the cobwebs covered windows while the smell of tobacco lingering in the air. I
walked over to the bartender and ordered a drink. As I leaned at the bar and
kicked the dust off my boots, I noticed the silence around me. A few guys were
sitting at a table, playing poker and losing money. They had been noisy and rude
when I entered, but as soon as they realized that I was a woman, they stopped
their game and stared at me. None of them said a word. I felt uneasy, and turned
away from them, focussing myself on the old bartender who was fixing my drink.
But still I could feel their eyes stinging in my back.
"Here you go my Lady, that's two shillings."
I paid and gulped my drink down in one breath. God I really needed that.
The men who had been staring at me were finally picking up their game, however
one of them could not hold his stupid mouth shut and had to make a pass at me.
"Hey lady, did you steal your man's clothes to wear? Why don't you go down to
misses Levin down the road? She can fix you up with something better! At least
lose the hat!"
The three other guys burst into laughter. One of them spat his tobacco phlegm on
the floor and rubbed it into the sawdust. He eyed at me and a dirty grin
appeared on his wrinkled prune face.
"Don't mind her wearing a man's clothes, she's still a pretty little lady."
"Miller, you dirty old rat!"
They continued their game while keeping themselves entertained with more rude
comments and sexist's talk on my expense. I tried to ignore those brainless
inbred thugs and ordered another drink. I was not here to entertain them, I was
here for a more important reason. I was here for revenge. As soon as the word
passed my mind, my hands slipped under my long leather coat and traced my belt
till I found the cool steel of John's gun. I toughed it, running my fingers
along it's shaft and stroked the handle.
John had loved this gun. Almost as much as he had loved me. And I was going to
use it to obtain justice for his death. I wanted his killers to pay.
2.
The doors swung open, without looking I knew that the men I had been waiting for
had finally come. Their steel spores clinged on their boots, while their heavy
footsteps startled the men at their game of cards and forced them to be silent.
A shadow was cast over my own as a man stood behind me, the musky smell of his
sweat filled my nose and brought up disturbing memories. I didn't need to turn
around to look at his face. I knew who he was.
"Bartender. Eight whiskeys! And none of that home-made rubbish you gave us last
time."
The old man turned pale and sweat ran down his bold head while he nervously
affirmed his order and took a bottle from the shelf. The men settled themselves
on either side of me. They kept their hands on their guns while they shouted to
the poor man, making him even more nervous and spoiling the liquor when he
poured it.
My heart felt like a frightened little mouse, ready to scuttle away at any time.
These where Grant and his men, dangerous outlaws, all ruthless bandits and
killers. They had money on their heads in 5 states in which they were wanted in
total for 23 robberies and 15 murders, including that of my husband. None of the
sheriffs had ever been able to catch them. Many had been killed trying. And here
I was, only armed with 15-colt handgun. Standing amongst them while dressed in
my dead husband's clothes. Silently, I prayed to God that they wouldn't
recognize me. Not before I got my revenge.
"Here you go boys,..It's on the house of course."
The men took their drinks and grinned maliciously.
"For the crap you're serving we don't expect otherwise!"
The bartender muttered something in reply, but as soon as the men got their
booze they became loud and noisy in their conversation, giving him the
opportunity to slip out of the room. A tall dark man, with a sun scared face and
a heavy beard drew his gun and shot in the air. The explosion caused the men at
the table to duck for cover, leaving their cards and money behind. The outlaws
laughed at their response, calling them little cowards. The room filled with a
chaotic swirl of activity as all the men drew their guns and started firing in
the air while howling like mad animals. I tried to keep my nerves and stared
down at my drink, but my heart was playing leapfrog and the knuckles of my hand
holding the drink showed white. Finally, the tall man gestured the others to
become silent, he raised his voice.
"Men, lets drink to our latest successful robbery down in El Paso!! And let's
drink to late mister Harvey, the old rich bastard to which we owe our half a
million bucks!!"
The men roared, raising their glass and laughing loudly. I held my breath and
felt my stomach turn into a cold knot as he came stand next to me. He hadn't
been firing around like a maniac as his men did, he hadn't even spoken since he
had entered and ordered the drinks. He just turned his back at the bar and
looked amused at the speaker, while he held his glass of whisky in his hands,
easy and relaxed among his own men. Knowing that his authority needed no words
to be confirmed.
I eyed at him cautiously, not wanting to let him know my interest. Not yet at
least. He was handsome, there was no doubt about it. His captivating eyes were
blue like the wide sky, his sun-tanned face was neither hostile nor friendly and
was framed by sandy colored hair, and his upper lips curled into a magnificent
cupid bow. His features showed no cruelness at all, but I knew that hidden
underneath were demons and monsters.
"Hey, can't you look out of your stupid eyes! You spoiled my drink! Whatta..."
I startled as someone almost pushed me over and then grabbed my arm. One of
Grant's men had spoiled his drink over me while he was elbowing around like a
clumsy cow. He stared at me, and I could tell from the look on his face that his
pathetic little mind was trying to figure out if I was a man or a woman.
"Let go of me!"
He loosened his painful grip on my arm, bewildered and still not sure if he
wanted to punch me or to shag me. As I backed up, I almost stepped on Grant's
boots. I felt his warm whiskey breath in my neck as I turned around and met his
piercing eyes. His left brow was slightly tilted, but except for that no other
expression disturbed his calm appearance.
"Hey boss, look at him, he's a girl dressed like a man!"
I sighted of nervousness, so the retard had finally figured it out.
"And the little bitch had spoiled my drink!"
Grant kept looking into my eyes. I shivered inertly but at the outside I showed
no fear. I was finally facing the demon that had haunted my dreams since John's
death. This was my chance to drive him away out of nightmares forever. I will
not back down now.
"Hey boss, I said the little bitch had spoiled my drink!"
The retard walked over, probably wanted to hit me. But as soon as he reached out
his dirty stinking hands to grab me again, Grant spoke calmly, his eyes still
fixed upon mine, without even looking at him.
"Dave, you keep your hands off her."
His voice was raw but tender, almost like a whisper.
"But boss, she.."
"Keep your dirty little hands off her and apologize to the lady! Or I will make
sure that you can't use those greedy hands of yours for a while."
He turned away from me, his lightening fast right hand grabbed his gun and aimed
it at the man's arm. I saw his eyes turn dark like a summer sky shadowed by a
storm. Although he kept his calm, his brows were drawn together into a stern
frown. His outer appearance was finally matching his ruthless nature. This man
was able to kill his own men even for an incident as meaningless as this. I knew
it. The guy at the wrong end of the pistol knew it. Frightened as hell, he
stumbled his apology to me while he kept his eyes nervously on Grant. I listened
with half an ear, after which I nodded that it was accepted. Although I wanted
them all dead, it seemed that my nerves were not agreeing with my plan at the
very moment and I sighted of relief as the man scuttled away into the crowd
before Grant could spoil his blood on the floor.
When Grant looked at me again, I saw that the storm in his eyes had lain down.
His dangerous self was hidden away like a cat's inserted nails.
"You're OK?"
I nodded, apparently calm.
"What's your name?"
"My name is Helen."
"Helen?"
He spoke out my name as if it was an exotic flower, rolling it over his tongue.
He paced around me while he brought his face close to my neck. His warm
alcohol-filled breath caressed my skin. I felt my heart stir, a desire came over
me, to hand myself over to this man to whom I felt a strange attraction. His
moist hand toughed my neck tenderly as he brushed a lock hair away from my ear.
His lips almost toughed me as he whispered.
"You gonna stay with me Helen, I will take good care of you."
Silently, I nodded, not knowing if it was my crave for vengeance or my lust that
was replying.
3.
He took me to the hotel where he and his men were staying and brought me to his
room. As soon as we got there, he pushed on the bed. I lay on the linen bed
sheets, panting heavily from the sexual anxiety and nervousness, as he leaned
over and tenderly placed a kiss on my cheeks.
"You taste so sweet."
I smiled, my calm facade hiding my maniacally racing mind. I had to get rid of
my gun if I ever wanted to have a chance at killing him. Drawing my gun now was
useless and can be considered as an attempt to suicide, since he still wore his
own handgun around his belt and could draw much faster than me (and he could
probably aim much better too). Gently I pushed him away, pretending that I was
shy. He looked amused as I stood up and walked over to a screen.
" If you don't mind, I want to wash myself first. I'm still sweaty from the long
ride."
"Take your time."
As I undressed behind the screen, I hid the gun in my bag and pushed piles of
clothes on top of it. Surely he wouldn't be interested in dirty woman's
underwear. I washed the dust from my face and body, my skin became white and
rosy again as the clear water in the basin turned cloudy. Then I put on my black
laced corset with red roses of silk on, brushed my hair down and fragranted my
body with rosewater. As I stood before the mirror, I hardly recognized myself. I
never dressed like this, not even for John.
His eyes were still calm like a summer sky as I appeared from behind the screen,
but you could tell that he liked what he saw. His lips trembled slightly as I
sat beside him and toughed his cheeks. He answered my tough by pressing his lips
upon mine. I replied his kiss with faked passion. My heart was crying since I
knew that I was betraying John, but I had to let this man take me in order to
disarm him. I started unbuttoning his shirt while I whispered in his ears.
"Put out your clothes, I can't wait."
He did as I instructed while he managed to do the same to me. His trousers
dropped together with his belt and gun to the floor, and I pushed him back on
the bed, his sandy locks disappearing into the soft linen sheets.
4.
I woke up in the darkness without any notice of time and with my enemy fast
asleep beside me. Silently I cursed my own stupidity. I had planned to keep
myself awake, only to pretend to be sleeping after we made love so I could draw
my gun and kill him as soon as he fell asleep. But it didn't work out that way.
I guess he had tired me out. Cautiously, I stepped out of bed. There was still
time. The moon ruling the dark sky outside the window and the rhythm of his
breathing reassured me of that. I sneaked behind the screen and searched my bag
for the gun, panic struck me as I couldn't find it. I started to doubt if Grant
had searched though my stuff while I was sleeping. That he had found it and was
now pretending to be asleep only to ambush me later on. But then my hands felt
the cold comforting steel of the gun. I sighed in relief and recollected my
calm. I was not going to mess things up now. This was the moment I had been
waiting for so long. This was for John.
As I walked over to my victim, the gun held straight before me and ready to
shoot, my heart jumped in my chest like a frightened rabbit. I could hear the
blood rush in my veins and transpiration ran down my temple. Never in my life
had I been so dedicated to a task before, and never in my life was I so
uncertain of what I did. The gun started to tremble in my hands as my doubts
were transferred into the weapon. I tried to forget his embrace and his
tenderness earlier, and tried to recollect the memories of my sweet husband. How
this man had executed him in cold blood in front of our house while forcing his
own wife and the rest of the town to watch. I remembered the expression on
John's face as Grant pushed a gun against his temple while he counted down to
ten. There had been sadness in his eyes; sadness of having to leave me behind in
this harsh world. But there had been no fear. He wore his batch proud and
dignified till the very last moment. Grant stopped counting as he reached two,
and bend over to John to tell him to beg for his life, the violence in his look
while he spoke burnt into my memory forever. John never opened his mouth and
after Grant had shot him he ripped the sheriff batch from his coat and slipped
it into his pocket.
"For my collection." He grinned. "To remind me how many I've already killed."
This man, I reasoned, had no right to life for all the sorrow he had caused. My
face was stained with tears as I placed the gun against Grant's temple. He
stirred but didn't wake up. All it took from me now was just to pull the
trigger, and this ghost of the past would haunt me no more.
But I couldn't do it.
I couldn't kill him.
I saw with hollow eyes my arms lower themselves and my fingers relax their grip
upon the trigger. Shakily I took my breaths while I cried in the dark. The
terrible truth about my failure hit me like the freezing northern wind in
winter. I couldn't find the courage in my heart to kill him. The possession of a
conscience and morals made it impossible for me to become the ruthless killer
that he was. I was too weak. I had lost my revenge. I had betrayed my husband.
Defeated, I sat myself down on the bed. I buried my face in my hands and let the
tears stream down like rivers.
5.
I didn't show my face behind my own prison of remorse till I was startled by
gunshots. Grant jumped up out of the bed while he instinctively reached down for
his gun, only to discover that he was unarmed and naked from the waist down.
"What the hell is going on?"
Quickly, I rushed behind the screen and hid my gun in my bag. I started to dress
myself as Grant lit the candles. He was looking for his trousers and gun. Loud
noises came from downstairs, followed by footsteps on the stairs. Then someone
banged with his fist on the door.
"Grant, wake up!! There are pigs everywhere! We're ambushed!"
Grant rushed into his pants and buckled his belt. His face was still calm, but
his brows were pulled together in upper concentration.
"How many of them?!"
"I don't know Grant, but I gunned down one while the other escaped through the
backdoor. But they got Hank, and they are firing like mad from outside!"
"I won't fucking stay here and wait for him to return with the cavalry. Wake the
men and saddle the horses, we're gonna shoot our way out!"
We were startled by gunshots exploding behind the closed door followed by ragged
moans. I reached secretly for the gun in my bag and clinched it tightly in my
sweaty hand. Whoever was talking to Grant behind that door, he was certainly
dead now. A pool of blood flooded into the room underneath the chink. I saw
Grant clinching his gun in his hands almost as tightly as I did. It struck me by
surprise that this ruthless man could be scared. Still, his face didn't show it.
"Come out of there Grant! We have already captured your men. Drop your weapon
and give up!"
Grant chuckled childishly and an arrogant smile appeared on his face while he
kept his gun aimed at the door.
"If you want me, come and get me!"
A dangerous silence fell. I eyed Grant from behind the screen. His face was gray
and his eyes were staring with great intensity towards the door, ready to react
on any movement.
After that, everything happened very fast.
The door swung open and banged against the wall. Grant braced himself and fired,
but the bullets hit nothing but air as the hallway behind it was empty except
for the dead corpse. Then, the air in the room exploded as gunshots were fired
by dark figures appearing in front of the door, blocking Grants way out. Clouds
of sulfur filled the air and splinters of wood rained upon us. Grant duck for
cover behind the bed and fired back into the mist. His lips were pulled into a
mad grin. I dropped myself down, the gun pressed against my breasts, while the
bullets were singing close by my ears. Then a terrible shriek as one of the
gunman went down. Grant cheered victoriously.
"Ha! Nailed you son of a bitch!"
Growing bolder now, he leapt out of his hiding place and fired, surprising the
men at the door. More shrieks as two other men were gunned down. Grant laughed
madly, visible taking pleasure in his killing. He rolled behind the oaken case
next to the window and dug in his pocket to reload his gun.
At that moment, a figure sneaked into the room through the window. Grant could
have never noticed him in time since he was too occupied cross firing at the men
flooding into the room. The gunman got Grant dead to rights and pulled the
trigger. A ragged moan came from Grant as the bullet tore a way through his
chest. He fired and the gunman dropped dead on the floor while blood gushed out
of his temple.
Grant was losing it. His gun trembled in his right hand while he pressed his
other against the wound trying to stop himself from bleeding to death. Still he
kept firing back. Then, two of Grant's men rushed into the room and fired their
shotguns, forcing the gunmen to hold their fire for a while and drop themselves
on the floor for cover.
"Get the fuck out of here Grant, we can't hold them much longer!"
I stared at Grant, who was now almost bathing in a pool of his own blood. I
stopped hesitating. With the suppleness of a cat, I jumped up and ran to him
through the chaos of the gunfight. I reached out and swung his arm around my
shoulder. He was losing his consciousness; his eyes were rolled back in his head
and his body was weak and heavy. I braced myself and dragged him through the
rain of bullets while his men covered me. It was a Goddamned miracle that we
reached the door alive.
I dragged him down the hallway and down the stairs. Body's of Grant's men were
lying everywhere. As we descended the stairs, Grant lost his balance as he
tripped over a corpse and almost dragged me with him in his fall. I could just
grab the banister in time to avoid us tumbling down and breaking our necks.
"Drop him lady, or I will shoot!"
A gunman stood at the foot of the stairs. His face grim while pointing a gun at
me. The trembling of his hands told me that he was at the end of his nerves.
"I SAID GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
The click of the hammer. He wasn't going to repeat his message for a third time.
Part of me wanted this to end and let the officer shoot Grant and me, but a
larger part of me wanted to live and yelled me into action. Fast as lightening I
drew my gun and fired. The man was hit and went through his knees, the gun
slipped out of his hand.
"You fucking bitch!"
The man's eyes rolled back in their sockets and he collapsed. I grabbed Grant,
rushed down the stairs and picked up the blood-tainted pistol from the floor. No
use in wasting a good gun. We stumbled outside through the backdoor. The cold
night air hit my lungs and stung my eyes. As my sight adjusted to the darkness,
I saw two horses, already saddled and ready to go, tied to a beam next to a
watering-trough.
This must be my lucky night.
I swung Grants heavy and unconscious body over the back of one of the horses,
and used the rope to which the animals were tied to bind his wrists and ankles
together. Grant moaned as I tied another piece of rope round his neck and pulled
it tightly. I looked at him with he barest hint of a smile on my face.
"Don't worry my sweet. It's my turn to take good care of you now."
I mounted the second horse and dug my spores deep into its belly. The animal
reared and spun around as I pulled it's rein while I jerked on the rope of
Grant's horse, ordering it to follow. In a cloud of gray dust, we galloped away
in frenzy, leaving the whole damned mess behind us.
