The Green Ladies: Part 3-Sleight of Hand

Hello, everyone! Here is part 3. Enjoy!

 

The path Hawthorn had chosen took them to the banks of a shallow water hole shaded by a pair of big oaks. Hawthorn dismounted and led the horses to the water. He let Dance off his saddle to take a swig from a canteen.

“Thank you,” Dance said.

Hawthorn turned away and leaned up against one of the oaks. He had a few swallows himself before slipping his cigarette between his lips. Never once did he take his eyes off the thief.

“Half the bounty requires I return with it is whatever you took,” Hawthorn said.

“Of course, it does,” Dance said, before taking another swig.

“You’re going take me to it,” Hawthorn said.

“Undoubtedly,” Dance said, then handed the canteen back to Hawthorn. “I need to take a piss.”

Hawthorn nodded. Dance got to his feet and went to the neighboring oak. Hawthorn kept his gaze fixed on the man. Dance noticed.

“Oh, so I’ve lost the right to privacy, is that it?”

Hawthorn’s response was a puff of smoke and the edging of his finger closer to the rifle’s trigger.

Dance scoffed out a chuckle. “Fine.” As his hands went to his zipper, he pulled a sleight of hand with all the finesse of an experienced thief. They went to his trouser pocket and pulled out, if Hawthorn had seen it, a small shred of a pale, bluish-green plant. As he bent down to fish out his organ, he crunched and sprinkled the plant bits into the watering hole.

He bent back up quickly to relieve himself. He finished with a satisfied sigh before making himself decent again.

“Time to ride,” Hawthorn said.

They mounted their horses and set off again.

* * *

“What was it you took from Redemption?” Hawthorn said.

The thief shifted in his saddle. At any moment now the locoweed would take effect.

“Don’t know.”

Hawthorn twisted round. “What?”

“I don’t know what it is.”

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?”

“That’s exactly what I mean. I. Don’t. Know.”

“You mean to tell me you risked your life and got yourself nabbed by Gordy Thomas all over something  that you don’t even what in living Hell is?”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m an imbecile, Hawthorn. It was under heavy guard where I found it in that Tritonium facility. Things that are under that much security usually possess some kind of exquisite value.”

Hawthorn chuckled.

Dance scowled. “I’m getting tired of you laughing at jokes I do not intend.”

“You thieves. It’s wondrous to me how much of ya’ll are the same. Ya’ll always jump at what looks like the biggest buck like bitches in heat once it crosses

your snouts, even if you haven’t got a clue what it might be.”

“Hmm. Much like bounty hunters.”

That only made Hawthorn laugh more. “I reckon so!”

At that moment the hunter’s horse started bucking. “What in—“ he clutched the reins as the horse whined, its big and strong back bolting into the air, legs kicking high. Dust clouds billowed. Hawthorn dug his spurs in the animal’s side, yanking the reins.

“Calm down, damn it!” he muttered.

Then Dance’s horse started. The thief clutched the horse’s mane with his hands and dug his spurs in too, hanging for dear life. The rope with which Hawthorn had guided Dance’s horse whipped and jerked, finally yanking the hunter right out of his saddle. Then Dance’s horse raced ahead in full gallop, overtaking Hawthorn’s horse and dragging the bounty hunter in the dust behind it.

Hawthorn rolled his tongue to the back of his mouth, careful not bite down on it as his body raced over the dusty earth. Sand and rocks grated against his shirt and into his skin. Grass whipped him in the face. He couldn’t see. His hat flew off his head, exposing his white mane.

He growled. His leg struck a rock stuck fast in the ground. Pain shot up and down his thigh. He reached for his knife, his big knife, and cut the rope with a single swipe. He rolled over the grass for a few feet, his leg getting more agitated with every impact. Finally, his momentum slowed and he went to a stop. He grunted, gritted his teeth and rolled onto his back.

Dance, meanwhile, had gotten a good distance away. Sure, the horse was racing like the wind and he had little to no control over the crazed thing, but he was still getting away. That’s what mattered. The taste of freedom was already budding on his tongue. He laughed so the birds could hear him.

Not if Hawthorn could help it. He got to his knees, painfully, begrudgingly, and unslung the rifle from his back. Growling with a Devil’s vengeance, he took aim with the black rifle, drawing a bead on the escaping convict. His prey.

Though the sun glared and his knee hurt, he kept his aim steady. The thief was riding fast, and the horse’s furious galloping was kicking dust up in the air as to shroud his shape. But he was riding west, giving Hawthorn a clear angle on his intended target. The bounty hunter lined the tip of the sight up right where he wanted it. He fired.

One moment Dance was laughing with his mouth wide, the next he was choking on blood that wasn’t his. Hawthorn’s bullet had brained the horse. The blood exploded from the poor creature’s head, glistening as it painted the grass and Dance’s face. The creature stopped midstride, the momentum of the sudden stop hurtling Dance face-first into the dirt. He managed to choke up some soil before a crushing weight landed on his chest. The horse’s corpse pinned him where he lay.

Hawthorn stood and started limping over to the waylaid thief. He found his hat lying in the grass a few feet away. He put it on, then took the time to wrap and light a new cigarette.

Dance coughed and spluttered out bits of dirt and horse flesh. The sun glared down at him, its violent brightness nearly blinding him. He felt all its heat on his face. He wanted to wipe the gore from his mouth, but his hands were pinned under the dead horse as well. He did what he could by spitting into the dirt.

He started to move, wriggling himself out from under the thing. No good.

Then a dark shape blotted out the sun. Hawthorn stood over him like the grim visage of an ominous, damning spirit. His eyes glowed, green and red.

“I got to admit that was slick, Dance.”

“I’m so—flattered—by your veneration,” Dance said, finding it hard to breathe.

Hawthorn took a long drag, and then sprinkled some of the ash on the horse’s corpse. Dance heaved out a gasp.

“Let me spell it straight for you, Dance. Those idiots I killed back there in North Crown, Gordy’s Gang, were a bunch of ignorant, self-indulgent louts. They didn’t know a good job even if it came up and kicked them between the legs. If I hadn’t found you before they got to the next town, you would be a feast for maggots. See, they didn’t care about taking you alive, even if you meant more money. Putting up with live prey means trouble, and a lot of other hunters wouldn’t put up with it, neither. Me, I like to think of myself as a somewhat tolerant man. I’ll get you back to Redemption in one piece. You can bank on that, because I like my money. But if you go and pull another trick like the former, I’ll skin you, hang your body over a tree branch like a pair of long-johns and let you drip until you’re dry. Savvy?”

The thief nodded, his face going red. “Understood,” he wheezed.

“Good. Cause from here on, you’re walking,” Hawthorn took another drag and turned his back.

“Wait!” Dance called.

Hawthorn stopped.

“Aren’t you going to help me out from under here?”

The bounty hunter shrugged. “I figure since you so righteously got yourself under that horse’s ass, you can sure find your own way out.”

And he walked away to find his black horse.