Ain't No Rest For The Wicked

Chapter 4

"Listen here, little lady, we don't necessarily want to shoot ya, but we will."

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Had James really just given up?

No.

You had to trust in him, trust that he would get you back. He's the sheriff, after all. It's his job to know the best course of action in a tense situation. Yeah, he wasn't going to abandon you. Even if he wasn't the sheriff, he's your best friend. And best friends look out for each other.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself of that, one tiny, little, doubtful part of your mind couldn't help but think that maybe he would just give up. Maybe he's just going to abandon you, leave you in the hands of these criminals. Maybe he doesn't care about you at all like you've thought he does. Maybe he won't even bat an eye, maybe all the worry splattered on his face was for show.

You tried to keep that nagging thought in the back of your head, tried to dismiss it. Ignore it. He's not going to abandon you. He wouldn't do that. Besides, whether he has a plan or not, you can still try to escape on your own.

You weren't helpless, after all.

These were your thoughts as you rode away, seated in front of the blonde cowboy, and the brown-eyed bandit riding at your side.

You only thought for so long, as the world didn't only consist of your head. There's an outside world, too.

As soon as you were all out of sight from James and his lackeys, and confirmed that none of them were following you, the gun was removed from being aimed at your head back into the safety of the cowboy's gun holster. While it was better than having it jammed into your jaw, you kept in mind that the gun was still there, and he could pull it out at any time.

As you thought about this, you subconsciously brought one of your hands up to your jaw where it had been digging into you a few minutes ago. You noticed the pain you felt when you moved it around or touched it. It was definitely going to bruise.

The cowboy seated behind you, hands still gripping the reigns and arms caging you in, noticed your little action. You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when he started talking.

"Sorry 'bout that little lady. I didn't really wanna bruise that pretty face of yours, but I needed to do it for show. Otherwise, that there sheriff wouldn't have taken me seriously." He apologized.

"You mean you weren't going to shoot me?" You asked, curious if all of that fear you felt, all the emotions you felt at once, was seriously all for a fake threat.

"Now, now little missy. I never said I wasn't gonna shoot ya. If another word had come outta those pretty pink lips of yours I wouldn't have hesitated to blow a hole right through your head." One of his hands motioned shooting your head as he said it, and you looked down at your hands gripping the horn of the saddle, soaking in every word he told you.

"Now why'd you go and take the girl then?" The brown-eyed bandit questioned as he rode to the right of the both of you, clearly irritated.

"Because, Rodriguez, the coppers were after us, and if we had a hostage then they wouldn't get us. A person's life is worth more than a few measly bags of money." The blonde retorted.