(F/N) rode Simon so hard that the old horse was gasping and spitting blood. The former outlaw was smiling as he rode out of the swamps of Lagras, he had dug up all of the money that he had buried. This was the first time he had actually ridden into this city with a smile in a long time. Seeing John had given him hope. Hope that he could redeem himself.
He quickly sold Simon to the stables, for a few dollars, which he would make sure Mr. Geddes got back. Many people were smiling and greeting him, they kept saying "Hey Butch," or simply "Cassidy." (F/N) had to keep reminding himself to answer to that name, he felt so tired of doing it. He wanted to be (F/N) (L/N), not Butch Cassidy.
He smiled when he saw Bullseye hitched to the fence in front of his and Mary-Beth's home. He ran his hand through the arabinan's greying main, "Hey, Ol' Black." The horse nuzzled into the man's neck and nibbled on his shoulder, as if to say, "Well...I guess I wanted to see you one more time before you died."
(F/N) sighed as he rubbed the horses neck before walking back into his home, he laughed slightly as he stretched out, his boots clicked against the floor. He saw Mary-Beth writing, he slowly snuck up behind her, noticing the story she was writing, he noticed she was writing a story about 'The Man with No Name.' He cleared his throat, making her jump.
She grabbed her chest, and flipped over the paper she had been writing, "Oh lord, your antics will be the death of me."
(F/N) laughed as he leaned on the table she had been writing on, "It's nice to see you, Darling." He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the lips, "What were you working on?"
"Nothing important. I thought you'd be staying up North?"
"Actually, John bought a ranch outside of Blackwater. He still needs to put some work in it, but it could work," (F/N) smiled slightly, as he dropped the bag of money on the table, "This should cover all of the money we owe Mr. Martelli."
Mary-Beth smiled as she peaked into the bag, "Really? I thought you said..."
"I could just say that Mr. Briars paid me for the lumber I moved," he rested his hand on his wife's, "I said I'd take care of it."
Mary-Beth squeezed his callused hands with her smooth ones, "I knew you would. Listen...I needed to tell you something."
(F/N) frowned, "What is it?"
Mary-Beth sighed, "It's your mother..."
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(F/N) burst through the doors of the inn, he walked right up to the man at the counter, "There's an old woman traveling by herself, Ms. (L/N). What room is she in?"
The man at the counter shook his head, "Sir, I can't reveal that kind of..."
The former outlaw leaned forward, his expression darkened, "Tell me where she is."
The much smaller man noticed that (F/N) was resting his hand on the large knife on his belt, "Room 4, the second to last one at the end of the hall."
(F/N) turned from the desk and walked down the hallway, his mind raced, this couldn't be his mother. As soon as Mary-Beth had told him his mother was back in town, he thought she was joking, but it became apparent that she wasn't. He had left her mid-explanation. (F/N) knocked on the door of Room 4. He turned away, his mind still racing. Why was he here? Why did he need to see his mother? She had made her feelings perfectly clear about him. (F/N) was planning on walking away, until he heard the door open, "Hello?"
(F/N)'s hair stood straight up, he let out a sigh and turned around. He opened his mouth, but when he saw his mothers aged face, he slowly closed it. His (E/C) eyes stared straight into his mothers. Her eyes slowly narrowed she recognized him. (F/N) stuck his boot forward just as she slammed the door shut, "Go away!" She shouted angrily.
(F/N) pushed the door open, "No!"
"You left easily last time!"
"You told me to fuck off!"
Olivia glared him down as he slammed the door behind him, "Why do you have to torment me?! Do you know what it was like hearing all the stories about you massacring people? Knowing I made you!"
(F/N)'s face turned red, "You pushed me away! You couldn't have pushed me into that life any more if you chased me with a stick."
Olivia tried to storm past the man, but (F/N) grabbed her arm, "Don't you walk away from me!"
The older woman's face turned red, "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to tell me why! After all your talk of family you scrapped me off like I was a piece of shit on your shoe!"
"You ran away after I told you the truth! I was there, changing your diapers, dealing with your whining, taking out loans I couldn't pay so you wouldn't starve! You ruined me! You and your damn father!"
(F/N) felt tears in his eyes. He shook his head. For a moment there was silence. "Goddamn you. You were all I had...You were my mother."
"You weren't my son." Olivia paused so that would sink in, "Your father raped me. I'm sorry I don't shower the thing that came from that with love and affection."
(F/N) ran his hands through his hair, for a moment he thought about punching her, "He put me through hell to, he fucked me up more than you know. But that's not my fault."
Olivia shook her head, "You're just like him."
(F/N)'s fists tightened, "Don't you ever say that. You haven't seen the life I have, what I left behind. I have a wife, a better life, I'm a better man. But you don't give a shit."
Olivia sighed, "I don't know why you came here. To see an old women relive pain?"
(F/N) spat on the floor, before turning away, and slowly walking to the door. As he opened the door, he softly replied, "I don't know."
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(F/N) smoked a cigarette, as he sat outside of his apartment, he was slumped into a ball. He was exhausted, he hadn't expected to say and hear what he had said. His mother had always been a person he had never thought of for years. (F/N) took another drag, the tobacco calmed his nerves, at least until he saw multiple finely shined shoes in front of him.
The former outlaw looked up, and exhaled the smoke, "Well, well, well. If it isn't Butch Cassidy."
One of Guido Martelli's men snatched the cigarette from (F/N)'s mouth. (F/N) licked his lips, "Well if it isn't Guido Martelli's tax collectors."
One of the goons laughed, as the young man stood up, "Some people need to be protected from bad things."
(F/N) laughed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the stack of bills, the money was snatched from his hands faster than his cigarette. (F/N) leaned back as the goons counted the money, but then he heard something that sent his heart pounding, "This isn't enough."
"That's everything you said I owed!"
"You've got interest Cassidy, a lot of interest."
(F/N) started seeing red, as he watched the men laugh at him. They thought they could push him around and laugh at him. They thought that were untouchable. Their yellow teeth were fully visible, "You're not getting anymore." He snapped.
One of the men walked close, "Oh that's too bad, Cassidy. I'll tell you what." He took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew smoke in (F/N)'s face, "I'll consider it paid, if you have that beautiful donne of yours lay down for all of us."
(F/N)'s breathing got deep, he started shaking his head, "No. You're not gonna touch her. Get the hell out of here."
Another one of the goons got up to him and shoved (F/N) roughly, "And what are you gonna do about it Cass..."
(F/N) pulled his pistol and pointed it right at the goon. The laughing stopped. (F/N) finally let the tears he had been holding out. He heard Micah's cackling. The goons slowly backed up. (F/N) was about to shoot, when he felt a soft warm feeling wash over him. He slowly lowered his gun, "Don't ever come back." He snapped firmly. The goons saw the unrelenting seriousness in his eyes. They slowly backed away and started running. He heard one of them shout, "You better watch yourself! Mr. Martelli'll be coming for you!"
(F/N) looked at the small crowd that had formed, around his home. All the sets of eyes made him nervous, "Don't you all have jobs?"
(F/N) holstered his gun, as he walked to his apartment. Why hadn't he shot them? Those fuckers had deserved it. The former outlaw took a breath, "I'm not Micah," he whispered as he clenched his fist. Those thugs weren't worth killing. Scaring them was more than enough. He felt a single tear roll down his cheek as he walked into the home. Mary-Beth greeted him immediately, "What happened? I heard yelling and..."
(F/N) put his hand up and spoke calmly, "I had a conversation with Mr. Martelli's men. We need to get out of here. Pack what you need."
Mary-Beth looked over his shoulder, she didn't see any dead bodies, but she could tell by the size of the crowd this was serious, "Where will we go?"
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John sighed as he rode back after speaking with Sadie, that woman's fire had only increased over the years. He wasn't at all surprised that she had taken up bounty hunting, fortunately, she was willing to share the profit she made from it, and the work. As the former outlaw made his way back to Beeceher's hope, he sighed when he saw or rather heard something familiar. Loud snoring from the inside of the cabin.
John grumbled when he saw Uncle sleeping inside the old cabin, "Working hard?" He shouted.
Uncle snorted and sputtered as he sat up, "I-It's the lumbago. If I overdo it, I get a relapse. It's very serious."
John pointed an accusing finger at him, "Get up, or get out."
"Oh you can be so testy. What is it constipation?"
"Guess you're proof, I'll never outrun my sins."
The old man rolled his eyes, before rolling over to his side, "You got so sanctimonious in your old age. No wonder she left you. It's like roaming with the King James Bible."
John's face turned bright red, his boot shot forward as he kicked Uncle right in the back, "Get up!"
It was impressive how quickly the old man could move when he was properly motivated. Uncle scrambled up, "I'm getting up. Oh no wait, what did I have to tell you?"
As John was about to retort, but he heard a horse neigh loudly. The former outlaw sighed in relief when he saw (F/N) riding up on Bullseye. John pushed past Uncle as (F/N) hoped off his horse, "It took you longer than I expected."
That's when John saw who was on Bullseye's back, "Miss Mary-Beth." The writer laughed as (F/N) helped her off, "John!" She ran up to him and embraced him, "Oh it is so good to see you!"
John laughed slightly as he patted her back, "You to."
Mary-Beth's smile faded when she saw Uncle, "Oh...I didn't think you'd be here, you old lizard."
Uncle looked offended, as he spread his arms, "Wha? Why don't I gets a warm and tender embrace?"
"Consider the fact I ain't put a bullet in you your embrace, old man," (F/N) snapped as he wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulder.
The old man rolled his eyes as he seemed to remember, "Oh shit! We gotta go. We gotta go to Saint Denis."
John scoffed, "Old man, we all just got back."
"Not to mention I'm not welcome there," (F/N) added.
Uncle shook the others concerns away, "Charles. Charles Smith is alive, I reckon."
John's eyes widened, "Charles Smith alive, really?"
"I reckon."
Mary-Beth placed her hands on (F/N)'s chest, "You have to go."
"Woman, I just waved a gun at three gangsters. If I go, I might get shot on sight."
His wife gave him a look, until he sighed, letting her go, "Let's go find him."
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(F/N) looked around nervously, John had offered him a bandanna, but that would have made him stick out even more. Acting normal was the best thing he could do, in a situation like this. John looked disgusted at the factories that were spewing smoke into the air, he didn't seem to like the shipyards that were dumping oil into the water either, "I never liked this place."
"Well, me neither," Uncle added as he stretched out his back.
(F/N) pulled his collar up, "If you can get past the gangs, it grows on you."
Uncle laughed at him, "Fair enough, let's go find that big sour bastard."
"Sure, let's split up." John added as he looked around.
"Good idea," Uncle said as he fixated on a tavern, "I'll take the saloons, you take the slums."
(F/N) lit a cigarette, as John yelled at the old man. He knew exactly the man to ask. If there was anyone who knew where to find someone it was Alex.
Finding him, proved to be rather easy, he just found the lumberyard that was closest to the one that had just closed down. But getting the information would be a different story, (F/N) sighed when he saw his old friend, he whistled slightly and gestured for him to come closer.
Alex's eyes lit up, he looked around to make sure the overseer wasn't looking before he practically ran over, "Butch! What the hell did you do? Martellis' guys came by an hour ago and demanded to know where you were."
(F/N) sighed as he rubbed his beard, "I'm sorry, I...pointed a gun at some of his men."
Alex grabbed onto a support beam and leaned against it, "What the hell were you thinking?"
(F/N) rubbed his forehead, "They were talking about going after my wife. What was I supposed to do?"
The worker rubbed his head, "They're gonna come after me next, I was your friend."
(F/N) sighed, but shook his head, " They won't, after awhile, when they realize I'm gone. They'll drop it. Listen. I need information. I'm looking for an old friend, a big Indian man, really muscular. You'd remember him if you saw him."
Alex paused, thinking about anyone he knew like that, "Maybe. Does he have long hair?"
(F/N) nodded, "Yeah! Where did you see him?"
"I lost a couple dollars after he lost a fight. I think he's fighting behind Saint Saturnines in a few minutes."
(F/N) smiled, "Thank you."
As he went to leave, Alex sighed, "You shouldn't have come back. There's nothing here for you but a bullet waiting for you."
(F/N) looked at his friend, "That's no different from anywhere else."
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The former outlaw rubbed his hands together nervously as he approached, the large crowd. He was wondering how Charles would react when he saw him. He was just as bad as Dutch, he had practically destroyed that Indian tribe and all for money. He was going to hell for that, but hopefully Charles was more forgiving. (F/N) bit the inside of his lip as he walked into the alleyway. He didn't notice someone point him out in the distance.
(F/N)'s heart beat a little faster when he saw Charles, he had his back to him, but it was him. He would recognize him anywhere. Another man was speaking to him with a big smile, "Folks they love a surprise, but they hate a massacre, and you are a killer. We both know what you gotta do."
As the man left, (F/N) cleared his throat, "Well...you ain't much of a killer these days I hope."
The former outlaw took a step back when Charles stood up straight, he fought the urge to shake as he turned around, "(F/N)...you're alive."
His eyes looked him over, his chest was even more muscular and covered in bits of blood. (F/N) put his hands up, "I didn't come here to do anything...I just...came looking for you. I wanted to..." Charles drilled his fist into (F/N)'s gut. He fell over almost immediately, gasping for air, his eyes watered as he put his hand up, "Please," was all he could manage to say.
Suddenly John's voice spoke up, "Charles."
The man looked up, his scowl softened into a smile, "John? H-how?" The former outlaw helped (F/N) up, as he rubbed his stomach, "It's a long story."
He smiled as he went closer to John, "You're alive!" The men shook hands as (F/N) slowly recovered, "So am I."
Charles gave (F/N) a look of disdain, "Unfortunately you are...I'm guessing you two arriving here isn't by chance?"
John cracked a smile, "No. He's not a big prick anymore...so he's been sticking around."
Charles sighed, but slowly nodded, John gestured to the crowd, "What are you doing?"
The large man shook his head, "I don't know...I'm alive."
"Uncle thought maybe you was in some sort of trouble."
"K-Kind of...just...I..." Charles leaned in and whispered, "I'm throwing fights for a few dollars."
(F/N) whistled slightly, "Oh hell. That's dangerous business. Do you like that?"
"Of course not."
"So?"
"So..." Charles slowly smiled as he trailed off, "let me go place a bet." Charles smacked John on the shoulder, he looked happy about something. As they walked over to the bookie, Charles shook his head, "I can't believe you're alive."
John nodded, "Abigail's alive too, only..."
"She left him," (F/N) added.
John gave the other man a nasty look, as Charles made a bet for himself to win the fight. (F/N) bit his lip as he looked at the man Charles was facing. He pulled out a 20 dollar bill and handed it to the bookie, making sure to bet on Charles to win. (F/N) slapped John on the back as he made his way over to the crowd of people. The fight was short, but Charles took a beating. Was he beaten and battered? Yes. Was the fight longer than expected? Yes. Did Charles lose? Hell no. The other man's blood was spilled over the stone ground before even a minute had passed. Charles' opponent had a swollen face, that even (F/N) cringed at.
(F/N) rubbed his hands together as he walked to the bookie and grabbed his winnings laughing as he counted the dollar bills he had won. Charles shoved past him and grabbed his own money, sliding his shirt on in the process. (F/N) gave him a concerned look, "Who bet on you to lose?"
"Serious people."
John pushed the both of the men forward, as he looked behind him to make sure they weren't being followed, "So you keen on staying round here? Or heading off with me, (F/N), and Uncle?"
Charles seemed a little uncertain as he realized Uncle was with them, "But John, I haven't seen any of you in years."
(F/N) noticed that a couple of Italians in suits were walking towards the alley they had just left, "Well...Charles, I think the best thing for you is to lie low."
Uncle laughed as he ran up to them, "I finally found y..."
(F/N) shushed him as Charles asked, "Where?"
Uncle sighed as he followed behind as John responded, "We got a little place up past Blackwater, in the high country."
Charles nodded, "Okay. I gotta grab my baggage. I booked a steamer heading up river. That's why I was pretending to throw the fight."
Uncle sighed, "Okay boys, I'll meet you at the bridge outside Saint Denis."
John gave him a look, "Where are you going?"
"Just have to run a few errands."
(F/N) rolled his eyes, "You're useless.
The old man tried to retort, "I...a-am a deep thinker."
The former outlaw waved him off, "Go on, we will leave with out you if you're not there."
Charles lead the way as they quickly walked through the muddy streets, "My bags are on the docks."
The trio walked in silence until Charles finally added, "So, what happened?"
(F/N) sighed, "A lot of things. I chose Dutch and Micah over Arthur and nearly got killed by them on the same day. Then I left the gang...after Arthur...you know."
John looked at (F/N), "I didn't know you were with him when he died," he turned his attention to Charles, "Arthur helped me get out...gave me a chance to...live, I guess.
Charles sighed, and slowly nodded, "I went back and buried him and Miss Grimshaw."
(F/N) looked off in the distance, if anyone deserved a proper burial, it was Arthur. He smiled slightly as John spoke up, "I had to run...if any of us had been found we'd have..."
"Of course. I understand. Arthur's where he would have wanted to be, a pretty hillside...facing the evening sun."
John smiled faintly, "Remember that journal he always drew in? I got it...I'm a bit of a draftsman nowadays. He wrote a lot about trying to be good...especially towards the end."
(F/N) laughed, "In the end, he was a good men, as good as you can be in that life."
John shook his head, "Getting sick like that has to rattle a feller."
Charles smiled ever so slightly, "Rattle him or...give him some kind of understanding. What his life was really all about."
(F/N) smiled as he looked down at his bad knee, "Yeah...he wanted to help the ones who still had a chance at a better life. It's just a shame he couldn't do more."
Charles nodded, it was clear the memories of the past still made him emotional, "Anyway, I heard you were all dead, or I might have come looking."
"And me the same about you," John added.
Charles bit his lip, as he practically whispered, "Dutch?"
"Who knows? Dead, maybe. I'm not sure."
(F/N) shook his head, "He's not dead. When it's his time, it'll be a big event. He's not the type of guy to go die off in some corner of the world. I haven't heard anything from him since the gang disintegrated."
Charles gave him a look, "And Micah?"
"If I ever hear anything about him, I'll track him down and kill him."
John scoffed, "I hope he's dead. You know he was the one talking to them agents?"
"What?" Charles said in shock.
John nodded, "Putting them on us the whole time, or ever since I got off Sisika."
Charles sighed, and shook his head, "They picked up Strauss. The agents. Made a real mess of him. I heard he died in custody, never said a word."
(F/N) sighed, "Well...if the agents didn't pick him up, then some bastard he loaned money to would have done him in."
Charles shook his head, "Everything that happened...all those deaths...Micah?"
(F/N) sighed, "My only regret is I never got to get him. I barely made it out alive at all."
As they walked on the docks, (F/N) noticed that there were a bunch of Italians in suits. The former outlaw turned pale as he noticed their expressions change when they saw him and Charles. (F/N) looked at the other two, "Don't panic...but we just got made. Guido Martelli's men are looking at us."
Charles gritted his teeth and muttered a curse word while John looked confused, "Who?"
(F/N) sighed as they kept walking, he glanced behind him to see that the men were following him, "He's the head crime boss...he used to work for Angelo Bronte."
"Hey!" One of the thugs snapped, "Come over here, now!"
(F/N) swallowed as he reached for his masuer pistol, "I can go left."
John nodded, "I'll go right. Charles, you duck behind that crate and grab your bag. On three..."
(F/N) laughed as he held his hands up and walked to the left, "Amigos, I am not who you think. I am Archibald Smith, a lay preacher." The goons had their guns trained on (F/N), but it was too late. John yelled, "Three!" He fired a single shot in the air, nailing one of them right in the head. (F/N) pulled out his mauser as he fell forward. The young man crawled through the crates, as bullets whizzed above him.
(F/N) leapt up and fired a shot, one of the goons fell to the ground as he clutched his gut. (F/N) ran past them and dived behind a carriage as bullets rained down him. Charles grabbed his bag from a cart and threw it over his shoulder, "Alright, let's go!"
John hit one more man in the head, "That's all of them! Let's go!"
(F/N) holstered his pistol, as he ran towards John and Charles. He noticed one of the people he had shot in the stomach was still writing on the ground. He sighed, "Put pressure on it, you'll be fine." (F/N) ran after John and Charles. The trio jumped onto a wagon, with (F/N) jumping into the bed of it before they took off.
"Everyone alright?" (F/N) asked as he reloaded his pistol. Charles nodded, while John shouted back, "Yeah!" He snapped the reins and the wagon took off down the road. (F/N) grabbed his chest, as he calmed down, "Fuck, I'm definitely banned from this town."
The trio looked the other way, as law men charged right past them. John sighed, "If I ever go back, remind me that I hate Saint Denis."