They say there is no life in the desert but like the cactus, the rattlesnake and the vultures the Outlaw was a survivor. His mother’s job made it hard for him to know his father and to love her who despised him. Constantly he sought out her affection and was meet curses and violence. To her, he was a mistake she could not afford to look after. So the bandits filled this gap, Tales of gold, cunning schemes and daring gun fights do a lot to a young boy with no possessions or ties to this world. He found a home and a family with the men who visited her every night, as soon as he could lift a gun, with nothing to pack and everything to gain he ventured off into the sunset with a band of death dealers.
Mary was the firstborn on the ranch, a curse to her father already. Killing her mother during childbirth was adding insult to injury. Her father grew more angry, drunk and tired of working alone as the years went by. So he began to show his love the only way he knew how and she ran. With no one to turn to and her only inheritance being heartbreak, she found shelter from the scorching Arizona sun in the Brothels. There she found kindred spirits women with nothing to call their own selling the only thing they owned. They stuck together becoming whatever the other needed a mother, sister for some even lover. The men they served however could care less about what they needed, so she learnt to detach herself. Her body would remain but she would find herself in the canyons she would run to nights her father was looking for her. Here she felt safe, red sandstone walls protected her on either side. They were jagged and curving yet smooth to the touch, cool air would always flow through calming her hot skin. This was her place of refuge, until she heard a belt buckle or a spur knocking, meaning she had done her job and it was safe to return. The women always comforted each other afterwards, they became doctor to those who meet with particularly violent men. Mary had been lucky she never experienced that. Despite all this nights when she was alone, the thought always crossed her mind, whether it was time to go the only place peace truly existed, six feet under.
Long gone were the days of guarding the horses at night, keeping the bank teller in line while another puts the money in the bag or his pocket. Our outlaw was no longer the first out the door to guard others from the onslaught of bullets from the sherif and his deputies. The fresh faced eager roughhouse was gone.He now had bullet holes some without exit wounds, permanently swollen knuckles, a knife scar running down his left check straight to his collar bone. These marks showed his mettle, marks of a real outlaw. He was a man now running his own gang, he was respected by those who society rejected. If ever in need he took and gave no apologies only lead. Sheriffs and Deputies tried and failed to hold him accountable, he held himself accountable to none. He never had a name, his mother didn’t bother to give him one so he never took one. People only referred to him by one word, Red cause bloodshed everywhere he went.
When a man fears no one he goes where he pleases and sleeps where he wants. Red and his gang never camped in the Wild they would always ride into the nearest town and sleep there. Sheriffs knew better than to challenge his presence, well the smart ones. His men always found the nearest brothel and made a home there. Red whoever slept in the most expensive hotel. This show of wealth was respected by his men and gained the attention of the townsfolk. Red was glad no one questioned his adversity to sleeping with whores. Truth was they were always more than that to him, the memory and hole his mother left was the one thing that could bring a hardened bandit to tears. So he slept with the civilized folk and felt at peace. Living like he did however there was no place for empathy, a lesson soon learnt. Booze and Brothels go hand in hand and so do violence and gunslingers the latter he knew all to well.
Outlaws, are very light sleepers, well the ones who want to stay alive at least. Therefore a Colt Patterson was already cocked and pointed toward the door as the silhouette staggered in.
“Pardon Red Pardon, don’t shoot!” Pleaded the figure as it fell to its knees
The groveling voice was unmistakable, Levi, Red’s second in command. A more than capable gunman but a chronic drunk.
“What the hell do you want!” Red screamed finger on the trigger.
“The boys, their fighting the brothel!”
“Their fighting the brothel… what You drunk son of a..”
“Their fighting in the Brothel! Judah’s men is there..”
Before Levi could finish Red had stormed out gun in hand.
Stepping outside the hotel Red felt the night air envelop his body. Only thing that could make a man wish he was baking under the noon sun, was the night the moons gaze frigid a promise that frostbite was near. Red’s hand had turned white gripping his gun, he hated having to go there but knew the necessity. The shouting and shattering of glass had woken the town. From the distance Red saw the Sheriff and deputies rifle in hand bearing down toward the brothel.
“That won’t do Red, them lawmen gonna get slaughtered by Jackson’s boys, the townsfolk then blame you, you feeling for a bounty with all that gold in tow?”
Red simply pointed his gun backward to Levi and heard him stumble and fall as he ducked from any possible shots.
Red stood in front the door as the Sheriff and his boys approached.
“Red” said the Sheriff, he and his deputies looked mean, the way all lawmen do hats square on their head, faces stern, hands always on their gun but never the trigger.
“Sheriff” Red replied looking him dead in the eye. Levi stood with a crooked smile eyeing down his deputies.
“Them your boys” Sheriff asked pointing his rifle toward Red.
Levi laughed, last man to point a rifle to Red was the last man to do that. All lawmen knew he was no respecter of persons. Red walked straight until the rifle was against his chest.
“It’s late Sheriff, I was enjoying my rest same as you, now I suggest you and yours return and continue doing such and I’ll take care of mine.” Red stated as he took the rifle from the sheriff’s hand. With one swift motion he slammed the butt into the nose of the Sheriff. Levi noticed one his deputies drawing their finger nearer to the trigger.
“I wouldn’t do that boy, lucky that all he got, we have important matters to attend to now, be off”
Rifle in hand Red turned back toward the door.
“Sleep tight” Levi said winking as he followed behind Red.
The deputies turned and followed the trial of blood.
Red kicked open the door, the brothel was in anarchy. Every man had a chair, bottle or knife in hand, the girls collected guns at the door and held them for safety. That didn’t stop bloodshed. Red shot two rounds above the crowd of men.
“This ends now, I don’t care who started i’m ending it”
Reds men slowly stopped fighting, And gathered one side.
“We don’t take orders from you boy!” Said one of Jackson’s men picking up a shard of glass and marching toward him.
“Oh that wasn’t my command, it was old Winchester here, he don’t take to kindly to be disobeyed either….boy” with that Red raised the rifle and prepared to shoot.
“Well done boy, I must say you know how to control a crowd”
Red searched for the source of the voice he knew, he dreaded it.
“Up here”
Red looked up and there he was, Jonas, Jackson’s right hand man on a chair against two great doors. A mean looking man with more beard and belly than height.
“That there was very dangerous what you were about to do, shoot one of my boys, the fight was nothing more than rough housing between former brothers. No need for bullets right?”
“Your boys, more like wild dogs, ride out of here already will you.” Red said as he took a seat at the bar and began to down a bottle of whiskey, rifle still in hand.
Jonas began to laugh and his men followed. He rose from his chair and leaned on the balcony.
“Wild dogs? Have you forgotten you used to be one of these here wild dogs boy, hell Jackson even made you alpha dog. Until you grew soft on us, just what’s expected of a boy.”
Red slammed the bottle of whiskey down. He hated that word, boy ,Jonas and the other men always referred to him as boy. He had shot, robbed and killed more than them but yet he was a boy in their eyes.
“Jonas, Fu..” Red was interrupted by the sound of doors slamming open.
Red turned pale, he heard many men speak of ghosts and other such apparitions but he never thought he would see one with his own eyes. The playful brown hair, accented by pale skin, piercing eyes and a tall frame. The only difference is this girl looked 10 years younger… but the resemblance to his mother stirred a feeling he had long suppressed.
“I want all of you out of my Brothel this instance ya heard!.” She screamed at the top of her lungs.
Jonas and his men began another bout of laughter, Red’s men watched on quietly knowing what could happen. He turned to Red.
“Well Boy, looks like this Girl here wants you and your men out, so go on git.”
“That goes for you to mister, them there men were mighty quiet until you came in began destroying my Brothel.”
Jonas turned to her and faced her down, Red’s grip tightened around the rifle.
“I don’t care who you are sir now get..”
She never finished that sentence for Jonas’ hand was squeezing the last bit of air out her. Jonas pushed her to her knees hand tight around her throat, he reached for a bottle nearby.
“You see, this is why we don’t discriminate with death Boy, some women just don’t know their god damn place!”
Glass shattering pierced the silence as Jonas broke the bottle against the bannister. He raised it to her throat.
“I’ll have to silence this one myself”
A shot rang out and rifle smoke wafted toward the ceiling. Blood flowed over the balcony and dripped onto the floor below. It was the loudest sound for what seemed like an eternity.
Jonas’ blood flowed out his chest and over the balcony. As it dripped onto the floor below. Red marched toward the rest of Jackson’s gang rifle in one hand Colt in the other.
“Go tell Jackson I’m waiting.”
With curses and spit, the men backed out the door and mounted their horses.
“Jackson’s going to kill her and every other living soul in this town! It will all be on your conscience boy” Shouted one of the men as they rode away.
Red stood outside the Brothel, he could feel all eyes on him. Townsfolk looked shaken, not a man alive didn’t know Jackson’s reputation for revenge. Red knew it all to well. He looked the Sheriff in his eye as he walked away heading back to his hotel.
Mary couldn’t stop the shaking. Her hands her legs. The twitch in her eye the lump in her throat. She had felt fear before but this, this was beyond that it was as death had put his hand on her shoulder. The girls took her up, they cleaned her off and changed her. She didn’t speak, she didn’t move. Death is daily in the West, murder before her eyes, was not. There she found herself between the jagged curving rocks. Safe and alone gathering her strength.
“I’m going to see him.” Mary exclaimed as she arose suddenly and began storming toward the exit.
The girls followed her frantically, pleading her to stay fearing she had lost her senses. Quite the opposite however Mary realized her fate was now intertwined with that of Red’s. Mary could feel the eyes as she walked. Had her dress not been blood speckled, they would still stare this Mary had been accustomed to. The very men who visit her es
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