Lawless Liberty Ch 02

June 5, 1883

-Karen English-

Mr. Dominquez left to chase the murdering woman shortly after we carried Hilbert to the doctor to get his leg looked at. She shot him low, near where the ankle connects with his shin, but it looks more like a flesh wound. All in all, he got off lucky with a shot like that. He might even get to keep his foot.

"Say what you will about the boy," Doc Wilson says after leaving the room and closing the door behind him. "Foolhardy or brave, besides Jesus he was the only man in town who stepped up."

Hilbert did step up. My fiancé who I've been carrying on an affair against. Daddy talks a big game, but he was likely ducked under the bar like a coward. The town took shelter when Sigmund was killed, and that woman escaped. Not Hilbert. Hilbert grabbed a gun and took a crack at her. Nearly got her too.

"Can I check on him?" I ask, and Doc responds with a nod.

"Just keeping him comfortable for now. Little cocaine is helping manage the pain," Doc says and leaves me to him.

I open the door slowly and look at Hilbert laying back on a bed with his foot bandaged and elevated on a few pillows. He turns his head and smiles when he sees me, and I can't help but smile back.

"You alright Karen, I heard you were there when it happened," Hilbert says, and I say I was and have a seat next to him.

"Why'd you do that? That was dangerous," I say, and he smiles wider.

"I heard you screaming, so I came running with a gun," he says, and I lose my breath. The man I said was too boring to exist, runs towards danger. For me. He did not hesitate to come to my aid when he thought I might be in trouble.

"You didn't need to do that," I finally say after a long pause.

"Of course I did. What kind of man am I if I don't protect my wife," he says, and my heart flutters. Then sinks with guilt. Everything I thought I knew about him was proven false when it truly mattered. Where it counts, he's a real man. He'd get shot again if he had to.

"Well, we're not married yet," I say with a small grin.

"Formality," he says, and I laugh a little.

I have been a fool. I have confused reliability with boring. Hilbert is not boring. He deserves a wife who will marry him out of love and respect rather than one who does through obligation. I don't feel obligated to marry him; I just want to now.

I sneak back to the door crack it open, just enough to peek. Doc is rummaging through some bag and seems occupied. I shut the door and walk to the bed and start to undo his belt.

"What are you doing?" Hilbert asks, but makes no effort to stop me.

"What a woman does for her man," I say and fish out his penis. I drop my mouth onto it and start sucking him good.

"We aren't married yet," he says.

"Formality," I say, then resume.

I must have gotten good at this because he is firm in seconds and a minute later, he groans before spraying his seed into my mouth. I swallow it down like a woman does and remove my underwear from under my dress. I lower myself directly on top of him and try to gently ride him with his injury.

"You're really good at this," he says as I pull his hands to my hips. I nearly slip and say I've had practice, but I hold it down. He fills bigger than Sigmund.

We both hear a noise from the other room, and I quickly and quietly dismount him and try to look natural. He has difficulty putting his pecker away but manages to wrangle it into obedience before the door opens. I'm glad we made it because his mother walks in.

"Hilbert, you goddamn reckless boy," Hilda says as she walks in. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"He thought I was in danger..." I start to say, but she doesn't seem to hear me.

"...You're lucky that outlaw aimed low," she says and comes to her son's side. Not in worry, but to scold him.

"Mother, I'm barely hurt," he says.

"Barely!? Doc Wilson says you're lucky you get to keep the foot!" she shouts.

"Listen here Hilda!" I shout over her, leaping from my chair. "Your son came to protect his woman!"

Hilda is taken aback at my forwardness. I have barely said anything to this woman and suddenly I was hollering full voice at her.

"Don't be hooting at me girl. This boy acted foolishly..." she begins, and it's my turn to interject.

"...Your son aint a boy no more, he's a man. And he's my man. I will be damned if someone is going to call him something different," I say, though I do lower my voice so I'm not screaming.

"Well I'll damned," Hilda says, looking at the two of us for a few seconds. "He don't need his mother no more. I'll let my son be alone with his fiancé."

Hilda touches his forehead, gives a proud smile and starts to leave.

"Karen, quick word," she says, and I approach her as she opens the door. She hugs me and places her lips to my hear. "I was the same way in my youth but try to hide it better."

"What?" I ask.

"Don't leave your garments on the floor," she says with a wink and leaves us alone.

--

June 5, 1883

-Liberty-

"Let me try to understand this," I say to Justin after he gives me a long-winded response as to why he was in a trunk. And an explanation as to why the other trunk was full of money. "I just accidently robbed the Twenty-Two-Bust Gang?"

"That's the short story," Justin says, now sitting on the trunk while rubbing different parts of his body. God knows how long he was in the trunk for, so I figured he would be sore. Not to mention what the gang likely did to him before they threw him inside. "How long do you figure until they pick up the trail?"

"Honestly, I'm surprised they aren't here yet," I say, looking at the money again. "Can we just, give it back to them?"

"They put me in a trunk for helping them, what do you think they'll do to the person who stole it out from under them?" he asks, and I hate to see his point. "That sounded like a nasty shoot out for it too."

"I wasn't shooting at them, and they weren't shooting at me," I say, and he tilts his head. "I was in a shootout with the law."

"Sheriff Leavenworth? Why?" he asks.

"Not Leavenworth, the tanned man," I reply, and he thinks.

"Deputy Dominquez?" he asks, and I shrug. "Why?"

"Because I killed Leavenworth," I reply, and his expression is pure shock. "I don't need to explain myself to you."

"You killed the Sheriff?" he asks.

"I don't owe you an explanation. You'd be getting buried alive right now. Or shot first if you were lucky if it weren't for me," I say, and he sits silently, trying to think of something to say.

"Why did you kill the Sheriff?" he asks.

"I do not need..." I start to say before he finally stands up. He does it so fast I flinch for my gun but restrain myself.

"...you killed the goddam Sheriff?" he asks again.

"You're damn right I did," I say, drawing the pistol and shoving it upward against his chin. "I'd do it again too."

Justin tilts his eyes to the gun, the back up to me. "Do you know one of the biggest mistake people make with guns?" he asks. Is he threatening me? I have a gun to his head and he's threatening me?

"What's that?" I ask.

"They forget to reload," Justin says, and I realize I had drawn the Colt. When I look at it for a just a moment, he snatches it away and rams me to the ground with his shoulder. I did not see that coming from a banker.

"God dammit!" I shout, trying to grab my Schofield, but I landed on my drawing side, so have to roll. That tiny delay is all he needs to jump on me. He is much stronger than I assume, and easily holds me down and takes the gun. He throws my head in the dirt and lunges away from me.

"I'm taking you in," Justin says. I spit dirt from my mouth and when I try to get up, he shoots the earth next to my hand. I hope he meant to do that.

"You ungrateful son of a bitch," I say, and he takes a step back. I clench dirt in my hand in frustration before I get to my feet and he fires at the earth again. "Just shoot me!"

"Not if I don't have to," Justin says. I step toward him, and he steps back. "I will though."

"Leavenworth deserved to die," I say.

"I thought you didn't need to explain it," he says, and I take another step. His hand clenches but he doesn't fire.

"Leavenworth is the reason my brother is dead," I say, and take another step. He doesn't fire, but he pulls the hammer down with his thumb. "You don't have it in you."

"You don't know me," Justin says, and I take another step, and he fires at the earth again. I immediately throw the dirt from my hand into his face, and he shoots blindly. I charge him, shoving the gun down and punch him in the nose. His face is like hitting a brick wall.

Justin throws the gun to the ground behind him and swings, but I duck under him and punch him in the ribs. As he wobbles from the hit, I attempt to run around him for the gun, but he kicks his leg out and I tumble to the ground. I crawl the last few feet, but right before I can touch it, he grabs my leg and drags me away from it. I take another handful of dirt and turn to throw it, but he moves his shoulder to deflect it.

I kick upward with the other foot, but he tilts out of the way. He grabs me at the knee and swings me around before letting me go. I land on my stomach, and before I can move again, he mounts my back and pushes my face to the dirt. What kind of banker is he?

"You about finished?" he asks, and I grunt hard enough for a puff of dust to blow up from my exhale.

"Get off of me!" I shout, but it's useless. He's got me pinned too good.

"I said I was taking you in," Justin says, and I groan trying to lift him off.

"You know it's only a matter of time before either the law or the gang finds us. The gang shows up, we're both dead. The law shows up, I'm dead. Considering as far as I could tell, you got one lawman left, I'd take the odds on the Busters finding us first," I try to explain to him. I feel his grip let go because he knows I'm right. "Be smart about this."

"We can't just leave the money here either," Justin says, before he lets me go and stands up. He does not help me to my feet and instead grabs the Schofield. "They find us and the money, we're cooked."

"Then we need to give them a reason to keep us alive," I recommend, and he thinks for a moment. "You know I'm right."

"We hide it," Justin says, looking down at the gun. "Leavenworth was my friend. He was good man."

"I promise you, you didn't really know him," I say.

"Whatever he did before, is not the man I knew. He fought in the war..."

"...He tell you that?" I ask. "He was a merchant boat captain, not a naval officer. My brother was in his employ. The Rebels seized their boat in open water, and had the crew tried under suspicion of being spies. Leavenworth gave a false confession to save his own skin and sent my brother to the gallows. He's the reason my brother is dead. Do you know why he took the job as Sheriff?"

Justin is quiet and correctly assumes I will keep talking. "He was fleeing several angry fathers trying to kill him for fornicating with their young daughters. He liked them young," I explain, and he remains quiet. "He wasn't a war hero. He was a fraud, and always had been."

"Where did your brother die?" Justin asks.

"Does it matter?" I ask.

"No, I suppose it doesn't," Justin says, then tries to think again. "But we need to trust each other to get out of this alive. Let's call a truce, and a make deal."

"What do you have in mind?" I ask.

"I keep you from getting arrested. We keep each other from getting killed," he says. I can live with that.

"Let's start that trust, by giving me back my gun," I say, extending my hand out.

"What's your name?" Justin asks.

"I said you're better off..."

"...I can't trust someone who won't even trust me with their name," he says. I look at him, and he extends the gun to me. He doesn't let it go after I grab it. "What's your name? Don't make me make one up. I won't be held responsible if it sticks." I laugh a little. He is kind of charming when he's not stuffed in a trunk or pinning me down.

"Constance Abigail Liberty Thurgood. I go by Liberty," I say.

"Justin Ivey," he says, and releases my gun. "Let's get to work."

--

June 5, 1883

-Justin Ivey-

Liberty and I both take a handle of the trunk of money and carry it away from the stagecoach. We try walking in the hardest dirt we can find, but the thigh high grass and the trunk is creating a clear path straight behind us. Not to mention the hoof prints of the horse she is dragging behind us. We walk until we cannot see the wagon anymore and drop the trunk to rest. After ten minutes we pick it up again and walk some more. The sun is fading by the time we think we have moved it a sufficient distance.

"My little shovel isn't good enough to dig deep, how we doing this?" Liberty asks. I look behind us and see our trail behind it, leading straight to us. It will not take an expert tracker to follow this. I sit on the trunk to rest and wipe the sweat from my forehead. "We won't be able to bury the trunk."

"We don't have to bury the trunk," I say, and gesture for a drink from her canteen as she starts taking a drink. She hands it to me without conflict and I splash some water in my mouth. "We just need to bury the money."

"Smart," Liberty says, then looks at the trail herself. "How are we getting rid of that?"

"I'm thinking," I say, then stand up to open the trunk. "I'll figure something out by the time we get this hidden."

Liberty and I follow back along our path for fifty steps before we find a space that won't show tracks as well and on the opposite side of a small incline to hide line of sight. On our knees and with her small field shovel, we dig until we can place in the money and gold bars before covering it up.

"How are we marking it?" Liberty asks.

"We don't," I say and pick up the shovel as I stand up. "Now we need to misdirect them. We go back to the trunk, make an obvious trail away, dig a hole, and refill it. We even leave the shovel."

"What then?" Liberty asks.

"We pick up the trunk and keep walking," I say, having finally figuring out a way to use the trail to our advantage.

"Why?" Liberty asks.

"They're going to follow the path, right?" I ask and she understands a moment later.

"More misdirection. How long you reckon?"

"A good distance, maybe until sun down," I say.

"Then can we finally ride the damned horse?" Liberty asks.

"We should be okay by then. Where do we go?" I ask, Liberty shrugging, not having a clue. "You had no plan for after you shot the Sheriff?"

"Truth be told, I'm surprised I got this far. Leavenworth was the last man on my list. Figured I go further west if I ever succeeded," Liberty explains, and I shake my head.

"That's your strategy?" I ask, flabbergasted.

"I may not have the same fancy schooling as you, but I'm plenty smart," Liberty says, and I scoff.

"You don't need fancy schooling to know just walking into a town and murdering someone without a plan is stupid. Did you just walk in and shoot him? No reconnaissance? No rehearsal?" I keep asking, and she is shaking her head each time. "Not even, going out west first, setting something up, then coming back so you have a place to flee to?"

"I don't appreciate you condescending to me," Liberty says, and I kick the trunk in frustration. I am putting faith on my very survival on the dumbest person in Wyoming.

"God dammit!" I shout and kick the trunk again. "Do you occasionally get short winded because you forget to breathe!"

"You know what, good luck on your own," Liberty says, and starts preparing the horse. "I'm gone. I'm going west." I say nothing as she jumps on the horse and rides it away from the setting sun. She is so stupid, I'm afraid she's contagious and I'll catch it.

"You're riding east you fucking moron!" I shout at her. I see her start to turn the horse around when a gunshot cracks out from somewhere, and I dive for the ground. "Did she just shoot at me?" I lean my head up above the grass and see the horse riding toward me without her on it. "That wasn't her..." I say, just before another round kicks up dirt next to me.

I jolt up to my feet with my hands above my head.

"Unarmed!" I shout and start looking around from the source. Where is this person shooting from? I see a small slope to the northeast, and see a gunman stand up from the hill with the rifle raised. "Unarmed!"

The man slowly starts approaching to where Liberty was, and I keep my hands raised. He kicks at something on the ground, and then trains his rifle at it. I see him talking, but I cannot hear what he's saying. After a few moments, Liberty staggers to her feet, clutching the side of her face, then directs her to walk toward me after making her drop her guns.

I can see Liberty is holding her bleeding ear and the man is walking behind her with adequate separation should she attempt anything. I keep my hands up, and eventually see the man is Deputy Jesus Dominguez.

"Jesus?" I ask, and he looks at me.

"Justin?" Jesus asks, and Liberty tries to take that moment of his confusion to move on him. It ends horribly when he knocks her in the forehead with the butt of his rifle. Damn this girl is dumb. "Next time it's a bullet missy."

"Don't call me missy," Liberty grunts from the ground.

"You gotta good reason you're out here? With her?" Jesus asks, then points the rifle at me.

"Long, long goddamn story," I say, and he lowers the weapon.

"Tell me about it on our way back," Jesus says and throws me a strand of rope. "Tie her up."

"We had a deal," Liberty says from the ground.

"What deal?" Jesus asks, pointing the gun back to me again. For the love of God woman, shut the hell up.

"That stagecoach she stole to get away, belonged to the Twenty-Two-Bust Gang," I say, and he looks at her, then back up to me. "They forced me to rob the bank with them."

"Where's the money?" Jesus asks.

"Don't tell him," Liberty says.

"Callate," Jesus replies.

"Perra," Liberty shoots back. Didn't take her as a Spanish speaker. They get into a lengthy exchange of insults in Spanish until he fires a round into the air.

"Get us back into town, and then I'll tell you where the money is," I say, and Liberty scowls at me. What does she expect me to do, charge Jesus who has a rifle and standoff on me?

"Judas," Liberty says as I start to tie her up. The rifle bash is already bruising her face and it looks like that shot just missed her head. It took a piece of her ear though, and there are some burns on her neck. Jesus does not miss.

"We'll get back just before sundown," Jesus says as I finish tying her wrists. I pull Liberty to her feet, and she shrugs my hand off her body.

"Don't touch me," Liberty says.

Jesus directs her by pointing his rifle. "Walk."

Jesus' horse was tied just over the hill. He ties off Liberty's rope to his horse and rides on it backwards to keep the gun on her. I walk along next to Jesus, him taking side glances at me occasionally.

"What exactly happened?" Jesus asks, and I look up at him.

"Twenty-Two got the jump on Primrose and got his key. He told them I was the code keeper," I reply, and I can tell he is trying to think about whether or not to believe me.

"Eugene?" He asks.

"They threatened his family if I didn't play along," I say, and he nods.

"Her?"

"Unrelated. She took the stagecoach to get away from you," I explain, and he looks at her.

"Why'd you kill Sigmund?" Jesus asks. Liberty doesn't reply to him, she just keeps walking with her scowl. "You can keep that up all the way to the hangman."

"Leavenworth got my brother killed," Liberty says.

"During the war?" Jesus asks.

"He didn't fight in no war," Liberty replies.

"He was a Captain..."

"...of a merchant ship. He was a fake," Liberty interrupts.

"Say I believe you; how did he get your brother killed?" Jesus asks.