Chapter Text
Spruce and rock formations gradually replaced snow covered pine as they descended the mountain. Johnny was fantasizing about life if he’d stayed in Cholla Springs. He’d be poor and hot instead of poor, cold and bound as he was. There was a lot to say for sleeping in a gutter instead of tied to a tree Johnny reflected as Hanna droned on. He didn’t have much to say so she was rhapsodizing about the LeMat revolver versus the Schofield and gun lore Johnny couldn't begin to appreciate.
They’d been on the trail awhile after lunch when the horse broke her leg. Then there was a jolt and the world turned upside down and over for him.
“Whoa! f*ck me!” Hanna yelped as the horse pitched forward, going to one knee and sending her flying from her saddle.
Gravity shifted for Johnny abruptly, sending the ground hurtling at him. It occurred to him in that half second that a crushed face or the weight of a horse falling onto his head wouldn’t do his career any good, so he twisted his body as much as he could. If his ankles hadn’t been tied he could have even probably landed on his feet and made a run for it. He saved his skull by landing on his side with an impact that made him feel busted up inside. Dazed, he looked about.
The horse was groaning loudly and shaking its head. It tried to stand twice and fell over trying to make its legs. Hanna was face down in the dirt. She wasn't moving.
It hurt to breath and made the pain worse, but Johnny wiggled like a worm, inching his way towards the most promising rocks. There were quite a few on the path they’d been riding, the horse probably stumbled on one. If he could find one with an edge maybe he could undo the ropes.
There was a shift of movement from Hanna, then a low mutter. Johnny wiggled faster, wheezing. The bounty hunter shakily rose then staggered like a drunk towards him. Another two feet, maybe three…
Hanna stopped. Spat blood and wiped her dirt covered mouth. She looked like hell, and that’s what her eyes promised him as she drew her revolver and pointed it at him. Johnny stopped moving.
“You done now?” She asked lightly.
“I guess I’m done.”
The bounty hunter nodded and knelt down to examine the horse. Touching the horse’s leg gently, it threw its head wildly and cried out in unmistakable pain.
“Poor dumb girl.” Hanna said softly, and without hesitation put the gun to the horse’s head and pulled the trigger.
The horse kicked its legs once and slumped on its side. Hanna stood looking at it a minute, and then pointed the gun back at Johnny.
“Sorry. Guess it’s nobody’s lucky day today.”
“Wait! Johnny yelled. “Why you want to kill me for, what’d I do!? This isn’t my fault!”
“I’m not blaming you for the Professor there. But I got no horse and there’s no way I can carry you to the next town. So has to be this way.”
“No it doesn’t! Why don’t you just let me go? You can always truss me up and turn me in later.”
“Not the way I work Johnny. If word got out I let you go they’d say I was going soft, even the situation what it is. People already think I’m sweet on you. Sweet Jesus, I can hear it now.”
“Who’s ‘they’? Who would I tell? Who’d care?”
“Any random saloon drunk would be one too many. Words spreads, don’t I know. It’s a good story. I’d tell it if it were me.”
“Well that’s you, and it’s not. I…”
He looked around in vain for some salvation, and his eyes fell on the scattered saddle packs. Pans, cans, a bedroll and even a broken fishing rod had been strewn about from the horse’s tumble.
“It’s a shame. Just the way it is. Sorry.” Her shadow fell over Johnny like death.
“Wait! All that hardware on your horse. You going to leave that all here too?” She stopped and looked at the mess on the trail thoughtfully.
“Why do you care?”
“That’s a lot to carry for a lady wearing all those guns. I could carry more than you could. You brought me all this way already. You really going to just up and abandon all your stuff? You going to eat berries and sleep on the ground?”
“You making a proposal?”
“Untie me and I’ll carry your gear. You can hold the gun on me and we’ll hoof it.” She took another look at her dead horse, then bent down and cut his feet free.
“Get up and hold good and still. You twitch before I say go, you'll wish I'd shot you in the head.”
Hanna’s horse had been carrying more than Johnny could have ever imagined any living thing could on top of two of two human beings. The bounty hunter had rigged her satchels and the saddle itself to Johnny’s back and it took everything he had there as well as his shoulders and legs not to go to his knees. Each step felt like he wanted to sink into the ground. Johnny couldn’t begin to guess what it all weighed but it felt like he was hauling another man.
“Poor Professor.” Hanna sighed. She had her shotgun perpetually pointed at the back of Johnny’s head keeping about four paces behind. “Dumb as horses come. She was a happy girl. Used to pick me daisies, you know that?"
“Why you have to call your horse a mean name like that?”
“What? What’s mean? That’s always been her name. Professor. It's funny. I mean about horses. You buy a horse, you think of breed, legs, teeth, how fast it can run. Never even occurs to most a horse needs to be smart enough to stay upright. That’s what I get for buying half price. Professor’s idea of a good time was jumping over big stones just as high as she could go. Sometimes took everything I had to stay in the saddle. Was always just a matter of time till something like this happened.”
“I’m sorry for your horse.”
“Ok.” Was all she said.
For a while he just focused on the hard work of walking. Every now and again she’d tell him to hurry the hell up if his pace slowed. He’d hear the click of a gun hammer and he’d find a little more. After an eternity of walking, he heard an intake of breath from behind him.
“Johnny, stop walking.” She said to him quietly. He stopped and looked back at her.
Hanna wasn’t looking at him, but at something far and above him. Her expression was focused and grim. He followed her eyes up.
A man was standing on one of the rock outcroppings with a rifle aimed at them. There was a slight rustle and two more emerged from the treeline aiming bows. A third from the other side with a rifle. They wore furs, ragged clothing, unkempt beards and grins Johnny didn’t like the look of. Another appeared from the outcropping, a great burly sort in a long blue coat with a red bandana tied around his forehead. He aimed a revolver at the two below.
“You want to drop your scattergun there sweetmeat?” The man called down. “I promise it’ll go better for you.”
Hanna wasn’t pointing the shotgun at any of them, exactly, but she didn’t drop it.
“They got the drop on us. You’re gonna get us shot.” Johnny whispered.
“Shut it. Those are Skinners.” Hanna hissed back. “They get their hands on us you’re going to be praying to God they shoot you.”
Well holy sh*t. Skinner brothers. You couldn’t even call them outlaws, they were savages that murdered and mutilated just for fun. Johnny’s mind raced and imperceptibly Hanna began to inch closer to Johnny.
“Something you want to share with the class down there?” The man yodeled and the gang erupted in nasty laughter. From the sound there might have been six or seven.
“You fellas better clear out!” Johnny shouted. “This here’s Hungry Hanna! She slaughtered my gang! Bit some of their trigger fingers off first! She’s a f*cking cannibal!”
More howls of laughter. Almost under her breath he heard Hanna.
“Please don’t help.”
“Oh sweet Mary!” Red bandana took a breath and then laughed some more. “That’s real funny, because I heard Hungry Hanna was so known for being the blowj*b queen of Saint Denis. We know a little something about cannibalism ourselves don’t we boys?”
There were some hoots of agreement.
“So either explanation sits well with us. I gotta say this is a rare treat though. A woman and her pretty packmule! You like running that mouth on you don’t you son? Yes I think so. Between the both of you I bet you can keep us entertained five at a time can’t you?”
Wolf whistles and laughter again. Hanna was only a step behind Johnny now.
“Now,” said red bandana, aiming his gun between the two, “here’s how it’s going to go. You’re going to throw down your gun and then you’re going to do what I say because otherwise you’re buzzard lunch.”
Slowly, Hanna unco*cked the shotgun and tossed it to the side.
“You got me.”
“That’s real good. Amos, James, why don’t you go give our guests a look over.”
Johnny began to recall that Hanna had several guns. Before the thought could fully form the two Skinners stepped forward and that’s when Hanna bolted for the trees.
Like a breeze she was gone, as soon as Johnny turned his head she’d cleared half the distance. The two bows jerked and there was a thwip sound as arrows flew where Hanna had been. Rifles cracked and with a cry Johnny turned to run, stumbled, and immediately fell on his face. He heard bullets embed themselves in the pack on his back, the sound of fabric tearing and metal on metal.
Hanna came out from behind a tree, squinted, and put two bullets into each of the bowmen from her Schofield. She snapped off more bullets and one of the riflemen flapped his arms before pitching off the rocks. The loudmouth in the red bandana unloaded his revolver in short order, causing Hanna to flinch from the flying splinters of the obliterated tree and bullets to whine off rock. He shouted some arcane curse and dropped to one knee, fumbling to reload.
Hanna ducked behind what was left of the tree and a rifle shot put a ragged hole above her hat. Her shotgun was lying in the dirt a few feet away. With a whoop Hanna threw her hat out from behind the tree then dove from the other side and snatched up the sawed off. The Skinner closest her hesitated for a fatal second too long to take aim and Hanna put a shell into his chest.
Red Bandana refilled his gun and as he lifted it Hanna fired his way, sending the man to the ground.
“You’re out of bullets bitch!” One of them hollered, and Hanna sprinted to another tree.
“Well c’mon and find out!” Hanna hooted.
Johnny didn’t see any of this of course. He lay still as the dead, hoping nobody would see him breath. Guns roared above and around him. There was a sound like someone hitting a wet sack, and he heard Hanna grunt in pain.
A rifle cracked. Shots from the Schofield in pairs. He wasn’t a gun expert but as many times as he’d heard it now it’d become as familiar as a bird call. This went on another minute.
Johnny prayed they’d all kill each other.
There was deep silence, and Johnny thought of lifting his head. The pack and his position were going to make just rolling over a trick. Then roaring out of emptiness, the distinct thunder of Hanna’s shotgun. What must have been another minute went by. Cautiously, a bird chirped, and Johnny finally ventured a look.
Dead men all around him, maybe a half dozen. No Hanna. He wasn’t sure if she was dead or still going after those bastards but he wasn’t going to wait to find out. With supreme effort Johnny managed to roll himself on his side. He tried slipping his arms out from the heavy pack but couldn’t do it, and he couldn’t make his legs without his hands. Fine, back to the original plan. Find a sharp rock. He began to squirm as much as he could, barely moving. Johnny would have pissed blood for the luxury of not being bound to the pack on top of everything.
There was the telltale click he’d grown to love so and Johnny sighed in defeat. Hanna was standing over him, once more looking like something the devil had shat out. There was an arrow sticking out of her left shoulder this time. She nodded when she saw his look, then holstered her gun.
“You hit? You can’t be too shot up if you can move around like that.”
“I’m fine.” He managed to keep disappointment out of his voice. “Did you get them all?”
“Almost. Their boss got away. Left a trail I can follow if we hurry. Don’t move.”
She pulled her bowie knife and cut the pack off him. Johnny stood up, feeling like he’d never been so light…till he saw she was aiming the Schofield at him again.
“I don’t have time to piss around. We’ll come back. Now stay ahead and move your feet.”
They found the Skinner camp fifteen minutes from the road. Filthy tents, crates and barrels of stolen loot. Hanna gestured with her gun and Johnny walked ahead gingerly, aware he’d catch any bullets first. They made their way through the camp, which looked like it had seen better days. Among the broken bottles and debris was what Johnny was pretty sure was a human femur.
“Where’d you go you son of a bitch?” Hanna asked the scattered sacks and tins.
“You think he’s watching us?” Johnny asked.
“He knew I was coming. Wasn’t hurt bad enough to slow him down much but he didn’t want to fight it out. Took whatever he needed and scattered the horses. See?”
She pointed to the ground. Hoofprints seemed to go in every direction.
“If he takes a shot he’d better kill me the first time and he knows it. See that there?” She pointed to one of the larger tents. Two leering human skulls kept watch from whittled wooden stakes outside.
“Now that is the tent of a man with a little dick and wants everybody to know it. C’mon now.”
In the tent was yet another human skull inside a hanging bird cage, overlooking a fur bed made over top of some crates. Hanna shoved Johnny roughly and he pitched forward and landed on his side.
“Don’t move, just take a load off.” Hanna said. “I hate to keep saying this but I see you get up I’ll have to kill you.”
Johnny bit his tongue as she made a quick sweep of the tent, pulling a few bits of jewelry and an unmarked bottle. She popped the cap, sniffed what was inside, made a face then pocketed it.
“Going to check the rest of the camp, I’ll be done fast if I don’t have to worry about you. You stay here. You see a Skinner you holler. If I see you walking around or poking your head out-”
“Look, Hanna.” Johnny eyed the shoulder with the arrow sticking out of that. “Just let me go. You’re hurt and that Skinners still out there. I’m not worth whatever money you think I’m gonna bring in. I’ll just walk out of here, no hard feelings, I swear. I’ll even help you with that arrow.”
She seemed to consider for a moment, then wagged the gun at him like it was a finger.
“No poking the head out. I’m dead serious.”
She headed out.
Johnny calculated in the minutes he was left alone in the tent. Maybe there was something in the tent he could use to free himself. Suppose he did free his hands though, what good would that do him? Even if he found a gun he had no urge to commit suicide by getting into it with Hanna.
Maybe he could head out the front and run fast as his legs could take him. He imagined stepping out and immediately running into a returning Hanna. Her shotgun spreading him across the camp. Or maybe sneak out the side from under one of the tent flaps would be better and…blam.
He had to do something, not having her right in front of him was somehow more terrifying than when she was pointing the gun at him. No, if there was one thing Johnny knew, he was a terrible gambler.
As if to confirm this, Hanna reappeared at the tent flap with a grin.
“Time to get up, we’re heading out.”
One of the horses had returned to the camp and Hanna was pleased as punch. He was a skinny black paint with a white splotch in the middle of his head.
“That’s a good boy. A real good boy.” The horse eagerly soaked up the attention Hanna was showing him like it had never experienced any. With the Skinners it probably hadn’t. “What do you think I should call him?”
“I don’t know. Steve.”
“That’s a ridiculous name for a horse. I’ll call you Midnight, or…nah. I don’t want to have to remember a new name. You’ll be Professor.”
“You don’t think that’s bad luck?”
“Lighting never strikes twice and such. On the ground, face down, you know the routine.”
“You don’t look good. That arrow doesn’t come out soon it’ll get infected. You start moving me around you’ll really mess yourself up. I’m not your friend or anything but I-“
“What?” She looked at him like he was growing a second head.
“I can get that arrow. I’ll break it clean and it’ll slide right out.”
“On the ground.”
There was no point arguing with that voice, so he did so. Hanna paced back and forth looking at him, like she was going to deliver a fiery sermon. Abruptly, she pulled the bottle of rotgut and took a big swig. She stalked over, leaned heavily on a tree, then yanked the arrow out with a screech. Blood gushed readily down the duster and Johnny wondered how much maroon was its natural color.
Hanna then pulled the duster off awkwardly and violently. She then poured the rotgut over the wound, hissing as she did. A sleeve torn off what was left of her shirt was tied tight over the injury.
“You’re going to kill yourself deader than the Skinners could. You’re not in any kinda shape to-“
“I’m fine enough to pull on you. Don’t move.”
“If he’s around he probably heard you. If he decides to come back he knows the terrain.”
“Why we’re not going to stick around.”
She put a knee on his back. Hanna trussed him up but it took much longer than before, and she was huffing audibly.
She helped him up to his feet and groaned in real pain. She looked unsteady. Johnny watched this with mingled hope and alarm. The remains of the shirt sleeve were turning red.
“You gotta get on the horse yourself. I can’t do it. You’re a big man but remember you’re trussed up and I can still pull a trigger.”
Johnny had to hop to the horse with his ankles tied, then it took him four tries to jump high enough that Hanna could pull him onto the horse.
She was cautious returning to the pack. It would have beat all hell if they were ambushed twice in the same spot but Johnny didn’t put it past Skinners. After realizing she was in no kind of shape to be doing much more, Hanna took just the essentials from the pack and left whatever she could leave scattered on the road.
They rode an hour before Hanna called it quits. She’d been swaying in her saddle, Johnny wasn’t even sure she was still conscious till she spurred them off the road. Johnny had to hop off the horse on his own, then with great difficulty and some assistance from Hanna she found him a tree.
With her bad arm she looped the rope around and around, seemed to be a bit easier for her now. She was very close. So was the gun. It was shaking a little. Her face had lost its ruddy tan and was turning the color of cheesecloth.
Hanna kept the fire small, wary of being spotted by the remaining Skinner and retreated to an opposite tree. She had a beat to sh*t lantern that had survived at least one horse tumble and sustained gun fire, and miraculously did not explode when lit.
The light wasn’t great but Johnny could see her twisting her head at odd angles as she fussed at her wound. With a frustrated sound she shuffled over and put her knife into the fire.
“What are you doing that for?” Asked Johnny with some concern.
“It’s not for you, I’m going to have to cauterize.”
“You don’t think that’s a bit much?”
“I’m not going to be able to stitch it.”
“Because the wounds too near your neck. Can’t see past your chin can you?”
“Yeah, and in my infinite wisdom I didn’t think to bring my mirror.”
“Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t plan these things out.”
“Tough sh*t for me. Enjoy the moment, I think they’re going to be few and far between for you.”
“No need to get riled. I’m a fair hand at stitching folk up. I could do it for you.”
“Sure, and maybe grab me and break my neck while you’re at it.”
“One hand free is all I’d need and you’d be able to see me the whole time.”
Hanna chewed on her lip, eyebrows furrowed.
“Why you in such a hurry to be helpful? Out of the goodness of your heart?
“Sizzling human flesh puts me off my appetite, but I was just thinking. If you buy it that might not be so good for me. I don’t think this is your best knot but just in case, this tree isn’t my idea of a new forever home. That Skinners still out there too.”
“If you’re thinking I’ll let you go for a stitch job you’ve got another think coming.”
Johnny sighed. He was beginning to take her brusqueness as the cost of conversation.
“I barely expect a thanks but I already offered. Wouldn’t hurt either of us for you to accept.”
She grunted again, which he took to mean grudging agreement.
“You really stitched a wound before?”
“Lots of times. It’s good to be handy for things other than shooting. It’s got to beat putting a white hot knife on a wound you can’t even see.”
Hanna undid the rope enough he could pull his right arm out. It hurt like hell and her gun was on him long before he could try for her. She hung the lantern on a low hanging branch and kept a bead on his chest.
“That shirt has to come off for me to do this. Not that I don’t think you can take a little pain but if I stick you while your finger is on that trigger it could get messy.”
“So how do we do this then?”
“You’ve still got that big knife.”
“True enough.”
Hanna had a bottle of laudanum in her kit which she took a hit from and shivered. She then removed the mess that was her shirt. In the flickering firelight her bare back looked bronze. She tied the shirt around herself, pulled the knife out of the fire and sat on her knees in front of him. Hanna put the needle and thread in his free hand. Johnny was keenly aware of the knife a few inches from his groin.
She had the sort of defined shoulders you see on hard working women. The shirt covered her cleavage, keeping him from pondering too long. The wound was above her collar bone in the thickest part, 3 inches long. One of those chiseled arrowheads maybe, looked like it had gone deep but not all the way through. No way of knowing if she’d torn herself up just pulling it out like that but not much he could do if she had. The wound was too narrow to pack anyway.
He turned his concentration briefly at her face. Frown lines, full eyebrows, black hair, serious dark brown eyes with shadows under them. She reminded him of a thundercloud before a bad storm.
“What the hell you looking at?” She snapped.
“Never really got a good look at you this close. You’re usually pointing a gun at my eye.”
“Well fall in love with me after I tie that other hand back up.”
The tone was right but there was a pleasing hint of embarrassment in her expression. The eyes were getting a bit glassy.
“You feeling that laudanum yet?”
“Do it if you’re going to.” Hanna breathed.
“Twelve pokes is all.”
Hanna grit her teeth and winced each time he ran the needle through her skin, but the knife didn’t move. He could tell where it was at all times without looking from the heat it was still radiating. She had to help him rethread the needle twice, you never appreciate how much you need your left for little things till you can’t use it. She helped tighten and cut it off and then ran a finger over the work approvingly.
Hanna was getting too woozy to do it clean so she secured his arm again with a fresh loop of rope. She offered him the rotgut.
“Drink.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m going to sleep and I can’t be worrying about you. So drink.”
She fed him the booze, some vile home brewed stuff that burned even Johnny’s veteran tongue. He kept two swigs down with difficulty and his vision swam.
“You’ll want to see a real doctor before long.” He heard himself say, slurring a bit.
She gave him some kind of meaningful look, but he was too buzzed to place it. It reminded him of Sister Maria for some reason. She was one of the nicer nuns. Young. Wasn’t bitter enough to take out on him yet.
“Think I will. Thanks Johnny.”
She said it without a trace of mean before staggering over to her makeshift bed.
“What if…uh. What if that Skinner comes back tonight?”
“Then we’re f*cked!” She said without turning around, then giggled unevenly.
“Hanna?” Her reply was a light snore.
Johnny started squirming in the ropes, trying to get himself some room to move. The exertion made him dizzy, and he paused to catch his breath. Within a minute he was sleeping upright yet fitfully.
They woke late and groggy the next morning. Hanna brushed him off when Johnny asked her how the shoulder was doing. After a small breakfast she was able to half haul him onto the horse by herself. Yet the dynamic of their relationship had changed, he was sure of it. Her replies to his attempts at small talk were strained but she hadn’t got cross all morning.
It wasn’t a family secret but he managed to at least find out Hanna had a broad understanding of whiskey and beer. She seemed mildly impressed with Johnny’s knowledge of spirits but her interest soon wandered quick.
“I just believe if you’re going to serve somebody, you want to be able to say something interesting about what you’re serving.
“Well I believe in alcoholism. You got a drinking problem Johnny.”
Guns on the other hand seemed to be a dear subject and she was at ease talking about them. At least a dozen dead men just since he’d first laid eyes on her was an impressive body count and had piqued Johnny’s curiosity.
“There’s no great trick to it, it’s like anything else.” Hanna said without a hint of modesty. “You have to want to get good at it and put the time in.”
“C’mon, you can tell me. How do you do it running like that?”
“Promise not to tell?”
She wasn’t asking, it was more of that observational humor of hers.
“Not a soul.”
“I don’t shoot when I’m running, I count my steps.”
“How so?”
“I can slow down in five steps, aim, shoot, keep running. That’s how.”
“But I swear I saw you-“
“When I’m shooting I guarantee you’re not looking at my feet. A second is all I need.”
“So it’s all just repetition?”
“Yep. No tutoring under a circus trick shot or such. Practiced shooting straight, then practice it walking, then running.”
Johnny had enough trouble hitting cans when he and they were perfectly still. He couldn’t ever imagine how long it must have taken to learn to shoot like Hanna did, and said so.
“That’s the wrong question. Ask me how much it cost. At twenty bucks for a thousand cartridges. We’ll call it four hundred dollars, and I’m still spending.”
“Jesus Hanna.”
“Have to spend money to make money. These outlaws don’t understand momentum. You fire at where the other guy is going to be, not where he is, that’s just-“
They were interrupted by the distant crack of a gun. Three rapid shots. Hanna’s expression grew deathly serious and she spurred Professor the Second faster.
“What are you doing?” Johnny asked cautiously.
“Every gun makes its own sound.” She returned darkly. “I’m going to go take care of that sh*t bird right now.”
“That’s a real bad idea. You want an arrow in your other shoulder? Don’t start none won’t be none.”
“That’s a snappy motto, but it’s not mine. You don’t get a vote.”
She rode the horse nearly at full speed, as it was Johnny managed to stay on by kind of clenching with his thighs and shoulders. Soon enough they came to the apparent site of the disturbance. The trail was littered with hoof prints, spent casings, and evidence of bodies having been moved. Off to the side was a broken down covered wagon.
Hanna jumped off her horse and examined the ground briefly before creeping quietly towards the wagon. It had been perforated a few places by gun fire, and the horses detached. Something stirred from the woods and Hanna co*cked her Schofield and took aim as the leaves rustled…
A chestnut colored mare took a hesitant step out of the tree line. Hanna relaxed for a moment and that’s when a shot rang out and blew her hat off her head. The long barrel of a rifle emerged from the wagon and there was a whistle of appreciation.
“Now that was what you’d call a clean miss. Can’t always do that ya know. Could have just as easily been your pin head, girl.”
Hanna didn’t even twitch, but her brown eyes narrowed as the Skinner leader stepped out from the back of the wagon, red bandana and all.
“Uh uh. I got you dead to rights whor*. You was screwed by the wind, all there is to it. Drop the piece. Don’t even think about running or trying for the shorty either.”
Hanna dropped the Schofield and kept her hands out. The Skinner advanced quickly and aimed the gun right at the bounty hunter’s face.
“I’ve been waiting in the back of that wagon all f*cking morning for you to come by. Killed me four gawkers since then too. One of two things happen now. You ready?”
Hanna closed her eyes and that’s when the Skinner bashed her head with the butt of the rifle. Hanna went to her knees and he gave her another hard hit. The raven colored plait slumped into the dirt.
Now his shadow and grin fell over Johnny like a pall and it occurred to him he’d be lucky to get the same treatment.
“What’s your story pretty boy? She keep you for stress relief?”
“Thank god for you mister!” Johnny tried to quash the fear by laying it on thick. “I was running up with the Boy near Lake Isabella when her and her boys wiped us out. She was going to turn me in.”
The Skinner seemed to consider grooving Johnny’s skull too, but finally a nasty smile burst across his bearded face.
“Sole survivor type eh? Maybe you’re worth something alive after all.”
The Skinner pulled a filthy knife and Johnny prepared to lose some blood but instead he roughly cut Johnny’s bounds.
“Whoops, almost nicked a vein there huh? Well c’mon.”
“Johnny.” He held his hand and the Skinner merely looked at it like it was a dead rat.
“Lawrence to you. Now bundle this bitch up, I’ve got a place we can hole up.”
They tied Hanna up and Johnny rode with her at a trot. Lawrence must have guessed Johnny might be having second thoughts, because he kept his rifle at the ready the whole way. A few times Johnny wondered if he wouldn’t just shoot him in the back for a laugh. Two miles down the trail they went down a side path and came to a little cabin built on a descending hill. Hanna was beginning to come to as Johnny carried her over the threshold and began to kick violently.
The first thing he noticed about the cabin was the mess Lawrence had made. The second thing was the couple sitting at their dinner table. They looked to be in their late 50’s, the man heavy with age and a ring of frizzy gray hair around his pate, the wife an apple faced grandmotherly sort. They were both propped up as if waiting for the trio to return. Their skin was discolored from the bruises and cuts. Their mouths hung open, frozen in abject horror from whatever tortures Lawrence had inflicted on them. Several flies buzzed around the dinner table. As Johnny watched one landed in the man’s eye and began to take a walk.
“Stop gawking.” Lawrence snarled. “Beds right over there. Go tie her to the headboard.”
With an effort, Johnny tore his attention from the corpses and carried Hanna’s struggling form to the bed. He dropped her unceremoniously and pulled her arms up. Hanna was trying to kick him even with her ankles tied and occasionally succeeding.
He didn’t bother trying to untie her wrists, just looped another length of rope underneath and around.
“Untie her legs!” Lawrence strode over to check Johnny’s work.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Do it. I like a woman to fight me a little.” The Skinner met the bounty hunter’s glare. “Not to mention I plan on f*cking you deeper than you ever been f*cked sweetness. I gotta have me an angle.”
“Here’s an angle sh*t for brains!” Hanna hawked and spat. The spittle didn’t clear the distance.
“Hanna, stop fighting me so I can get your ankles.” Johnny murmured and the bounty hunter’s eyes scalded him.
“And f*ck you!”
“Think for a sec. You think your odds are better with your ankles tied or without?”
Hanna bared her teeth, just like a dog, but then she held still. Johnny cut the bounds, and no sooner had he then Hanna booted him in the side of his head.
Lawrence guffawed at him as the room span for Johnny and he sat down hard. He shook his head to clear it. The Skinner was laughing and there was the sound of struggle and Hanna cursing from the bed. He’d gotten her boots off and next went her pants.
“You owe me for clipping me in the shoulder and killing six of my men. What kinda pain do you think that buys huh? What do you have to trade me for that you bushy browed bitch?”
As things came back into focus Johnny saw Hanna trying to kick but Lawrence had her legs and ran a hand over one appreciably. Abruptly he backhanded her across the face.
“I’ll get to you, don’t you worry. Can’t f*ck on an empty stomach. And darling, it’s all downhill for you from there.”
Hanna met Johnny’s gaze with an accusatory glare. Her lip was split, a small trickle of blood winding its way down her chin.
“Pretty boy!” Lawrence shouted, shaking Johnny from his stupor. “You look like the type spends most days in the kitchen. Cook me some grub.”
Theres three secrets to good cooking. Picking the right ingredients, careful preparation, and cooking time. That’s it, no fancy stunts. Johnny didn’t have the luxury of any of that with Lawrence breathing down his neck. When was it going to be done, it had better be good, and maybe a few cuts to the face might help things along. Lawrence kept coming back to that subject, cutting up Johnny’s face. He couldn’t take a pretty man’s face seriously he said, it needed some character.
Almost as bad, every now and again he’d go back and promise Hanna he was going to cut off ears, make new nostrils and jam his knife up her c*nt. Hanna said something to the effect of that being the only way he was ever going to make any woman feel anything and got a face full of knuckles for her trouble.
Johnny got the feeling any second Lawrence was going to start his work on her, and despite what Hanna had put him through he wasn’t looking forward to that. He didn’t have what he needed in this kitchen, but somehow he managed to whip together something with beans, salt pork and pickled peppers.
Lawrence sat across from him at the dinner table and shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. On either side of them the dead couple watched the bandit stuff his bearded face in sightless terror. Johnny calculated what was least likely to get himself killed.
“Sorry it’s not better, I didn’t have everything I needed.”
Lawrence ate another spoonful, grunted, and raised his spoon in a half salute.
“Eat.”
Johnny forced a few spoonfuls down. The stuff was all sour and salt, and the situation and bodies weren’t helping. Lawrence was eyeing Johnny like he wasn’t sure if he should kill him or f*ck him. He had those gimlet eyes that didn’t have a hint of mercy or higher understanding.
“What was she bringing you in for?”
“Holdups mostly. Couple things that all really come down to robbery.”
“Heh. How many people you killed?”
“Not that many.” Johnny said. He thought it was a pretty tactful way to admit to none.
“What’s his rap?” He turned and shouted at Hanna. “Hey you stupid Sunday bitch! What’s this milk maid’s rap? You want to lose some teeth?”
“Just what he said you smelly pile!” She shouted back hoarsely.
Lawrence grunted and leaned in conspiratorially.
“A lady bounty hunter. I would have laughed if she hadn’t left my men for the worms. Her brains must be in her tit* to think this was ever going to end any other way for her.”
“She’s not the uh, deep thinking sort.” Johnny ventured.
“Well you ain’t the kind I’d normally let into the Skinners either, but seeing as how we’re rock bottom far as members I guess you’ll have to do. You cook decent at least. I’ll induct you in proper later.”
“What’s that induction involve?”
Lawrence grinned around a mouthful of beans. His teeth looked like rotten little gravestones.
“Gotta show me you’re tough. Take a beating from some firewood, squeeze some razor blades in your fist, get yourself branded. On the back. You can do that without crying or screaming, you’re in. Trust me it’s worth it. You’ll be family.”
He carved a deep x into the wooden table with his knife as he said all this. When he looked up Johnny tried on a sleazy grin that made him feel like he’d wiped sh*t on himself.
“Sure, that sounds good. What’s the plan now?”
“Spend the day here and rest up. I figure I’m going to need till tomorrow morning with the whor* here to make things even. I’ll even let you take a turn at her before I start cutting things off. Can’t ask for a better hand than that.”
“You don’t think maybe we should just clear out? Somebody might come looking for us or these folks and-“
“We stay. Don’t ever question me again chickenheart.”
“Alright. Sorry.”
“You get one for dinner, and only one. Next time you lose an eye.”
Johnny nodded numbly. There was no way he was going to stay a minute longer with Lawrence than he had to. Soon as he went to sleep, or maybe went to go take a sh*t, Johnny would run out the door, hope on a horse and be off. He was half tempted to every time Lawrence looked at him funny but he still wore his revolver on his hip.
The rifle and Hanna’s belt and guns lay against the wall. Johnny thought maybe he could make a run for them if Lawrence was good and distracted. He didn’t have any confidence in winning a firefight but just having a gun in hand would be a bright spot.
“Well,” Lawrence stood up and patted his belly, “You ready? I imagine its time to make your giblets tingle bitch. Let’s see you dodge a few shots up your c*nt.”
“Your mama did, how hard could it be?” Hanna hollered and Lawrence’s predatory grin grew wider.
“Keep talking, I love just seeing how tough talk turn tears and begging. How long you think you’ll keep alive till you bleed out? Evening? Midnight? You better hope you go fast!”
Johnny thought back to the Skinner camp and the remains there. He imagined what Lawrence was going to do to Hanna. Then he’d expect Johnny to do much the same.
A strange thing was happening. He felt a slimy crawling disgust for himself sitting there trying to figure when his best moment would be to make a break for it. He was afraid of Lawrence and wanted to get away from him, that much he admitted. But he was more afraid for Hanna. He knew he shouldn’t feel that way about her of all people, but there it was.
Maybe it was his equable nature or some stubborn remnant of morality the nuns had instilled in him, but it was getting tougher to ignore by the second.
Lawrence hulked over the bed, the knife reflecting the light spilling in from the window. He’d dropped his gun belt on the floor and he was unbuckling his pants. Whatever sick promises he was making rolled together till they were the meaningless greedy sounds of a ravenous foaming mutt. Hanna had pulled away as far as her legs would go.
Johnny noted with some interest at that moment he could probably slip out the door quietly. Hanna’s shotgun was right on the counter. The dead couple sat in silent judgement of them all.
He tried to talk himself out of it. Johnny couldn’t think of a woman he’d ever met his whole life less deserving of any help than Hanna. Maybe Sister Delores. From what he’d seen, if Lawrence followed through on even a few of the twisted things he’d promised to do to Hanna…well. Staying alive was good but he still had to live with himself.
There was a click, and the Skinner turned to see Johnny leveling the sawed off at him. The bearded face collapsed in on itself in hatred.
“What do you think you’re doing you mangy little coyote f*cker?”
“Giving you your marching orders.” Johnny said evenly. “I’m running things now and here’s how it’ll be. You’re going to walk out of here with what you’ve got on. You’re going to take one of the horses and ride hard and count yourself lucky to be alive and free. We’re not going to see each other ever again or I’m going to shoot you dead.”
He was amazed at how steady his voice was. Lawrence seemed to need more convincing though.
“You’re going to turn on me for this cow? You some kind of skirt chasing wispy gutless wonder?”
“No point arguing. This gang just isn’t working out for one of us.”
“Sure, I’ll go. Just as soon as I carve her a new mouth.”
Lawrence half turned back towards the bed and Johnny took a step forward and raised the shotgun. He was mildly amazed at himself.
“You won’t. Just the way the dice rolls.”
“Kill him now Johnny. Kill him before he kills you.” Hanna urged.
“I don’t think there’ll be a need for that. I think Lawrence is going to be downright sensible despite all those words we had.”
The big man’s expression was pure murder. Johnny felt his balls crawl but kept his expression neutral. He wasn’t one for violence but the shotgun made him feel powerful.
“See this? I’ve seen it wipe a man’s whole face off and I don’t think yours is anything special. So how about you drop that knife now and get out of here?”
“This knife?” Lawrence raised it and looked at it this way and that as if he’d never really seen it before. “This knife right here?”
“That knife right th-“
Lawrence threw the knife at him.
It happened fast. The blade was flying, Johnny jerked to the side and the shotgun went off. The knife flew by, Hanna yelled, and Lawrence got a shoulder full of buckshot. Then he barreled into Johnny like a freight train, knocking him sprawling. The shotgun slid across the floor.
The bandit was even heavier than he looked. Johnny’s head was pulled from the floor then slammed back down hard. Lawrence was pummeling him now, deliberate right crosses that smashed into his jaw and threatened to shatter it. His mind went back to his schooling days at the mission. He reached out, grabbed Lawrence by the balls and twisted hard.
The man screamed and Johnny got him a good one in the temple, then slid back and out from under him. Lawrence went for him and Johnny’s feet caught him square in the chest. Johnny made his feet as the big man staggered back. They spotted the guns on the table at the same time.
The Skinner leader lunged for them and Johnny caught him from the side, knocking him into the wall. His fists clubbed Johnny, in the head, the ribs, the stomach. He had to have thirty pounds on him, maybe more.
“You squirrelly little co*ck sucking petticoat loving piece a puppy dung motherfu-“
His elbow cut Lawrence’s address to the troops short. He was smaller and didn’t drink his enemies blood out of their skulls and such, but he had an advantage the Skinner didn’t quite appreciate. Johnny had spent childhood and a fair amount of being an adult figuring how to take beatings and keep all his teeth. It was just one of those things one got good at by nature of being exposed to. He knew how to exchange hands.
Course, proper form in pugilism only went so far he thought disjointedly as Lawrence gouged at his face with dirty fingers. He caught Johnny’s lip and just about tore it off before hauling off and slugging him again. Johnny staggered and grabbed Lawrence’s coat blindly before he could make the table. If he got to the guns it was all over.
The Skinner turned and rained blows and curses on him and Johnny put his head down, taking the pain as best he could. He put his weight behind it and shoved Lawrence towards the other side of the cabin. The bandit span, hit the edge of the bed, and sat down heavily. Hanna’s legs wrapped around him like snakes, the bounty hunter cursing his mother.
Johnny spotted the sawed off. Hanna managed to hold the Skinner four seconds till he turned and struck her across the face. Johnny dove for the floor and the bandit took two quick steps towards Johnny. The shotgun roared and Hanna yelped.
There were tiny holes in the wall above the bed. There was a very big hole dead center in Lawrence. The anger in the Skinner’s eyes started to fade into confusion as he took another step and grabbed Johnny by his collar. He took another step, then went to his knees, ripping Johnny’s coat on the way down.
The cabin was quiet and still again.
“You did real good.” Hanna said.
There was still a big hole through Lawrence. Johnny could see red meat and veins and bone and-
Abruptly he vomited.
“First time you killed somebody up close?” Hanna asked.
“Might be the first time I ever killed anybody.” He spat bile.
“It was him or you. Come untie me then.” Her voice had softened, the way Sister Maria’s used to when the other nuns were too hard on him. “I’ll take care of things.”
He walked over to her, but stopped a foot from the bed. From his face she must have seen he wasn’t just going to release her, because the old hard look reappeared on hers.
Hanna didn't say anything, just stuck out her chin and regarded him with brown eyes, as if challenging him to do his worst. Her body was stretched out, shirt undone and pulled up exposing the smooth tan belly. Johnny’s mouth quirked to the side, in the way it had in his mission days trying to make sense of a math problem.
"Well what are you going to do? Kill me, f*ck me, or admire the view?"
"I gotta pick just one?"
"The longer you smile at me with that sh*t eating grin, the more flies you're going to attract."
"I'm not going to do anything to you, so just rest up a few minutes. You look tuckered."
"f*ck you Johnny."
He left her there and ransacked the pantry. Lawrence had already been at it and left proof strewn on the floor, but there were still cans of vegetables, a tin of corned beef, a hunk of dried beef as hard as stone, and two jars of pear preserves. He walked outside and went through the saddle bags of both horses next. Hanna's saddle bags still had her supplies.
He took a pack of smokes, her whiskey, and two apples for the horse and left the rest. The food would last him days if he didn't stretch it. Johnny didn't dally, but threw all this into a drawstring sack. He didn't like the idea of letting Hanna out of his sight too long.
Hanna hadn't moved, or at least, it didn’t look like she had.
"Back for more huh?"
Johnny ignored her and went through the dead man's pockets. He came back with a bone handled pocket knife, cartridges, and a hopelessly crushed tin of chewing tobacco the big man had fell on. Johnny bounced the cartridges in his hand, trying to figure why he felt so relieved to find them before he caught up with the thought. He heaved another heavy sigh, knowing he was dumb and knowing he was going to do it anyway.
He did a quick check of the cabin to make sure there were no stray weapons or ammunition laying about, then went about the business of gathering guns. Lawrence's rifle was slung over one shoulder, Hanna's bandoleer over the other. Her gun belt was a rich reddish leather and the buckle silver, both looked like they'd been polished lovingly. He wanted to keep it for himself but it was the kind of belt someone might get sentimental, and thus, temperamental over. He emptied her revolvers, belt, and coat of any loose bullets and shells. There were a lot, he couldn't imagine anyone ever needing so much ammo, even against the Pinkertons.
Johnny unfolded the knife and came to the side of the bed, being careful to stay out of range of Hanna's legs. She was completely at his mercy, and he took a second to appreciate the toned legs, the strip of her belly, sliding up to the promising swell of her breasts against the open undershirt. Taut neck and full lips, but the eyes were scalding cauldrons, and the moment was over. You can admire a wolf, but you'd be a fool to try and pet it.
He thought maybe she'd plead, try to reason with him, or at least curse him one more time but instead she just looked at him steadily. It reminded him of how snakes lock eyes before they strike.
"Alright, listen. I'm not going to hurt you, but I don't trust you not to try and jump me, and I don't really want to have to kill you. What I'll do is cut most of the way, and then you get out on your own. If you start moving before I tell you to move, I've got to bash your face in, that's how it is. Ok?"
She looked like she wanted to say something, couldn't quite make up her mind, so she just nodded. He sawed at the rope, got it to frayed fibers, then put the knife in one bound hand and backed up in a hurry. He pointed the rifle at her.
"Go on, but when you get loose, just sit still for me."
Hanna managed to awkwardly get the knife the right way and cut through the rest, face red and arms straining as she pulled her hands apart. The rope snapped. She put a foot down on the floor and the barrel of the rifle moved with her. She stopped and just sat there and glared at him. She glanced at the gun to the knife in her hand and shrugged.
"Do yourself a favor Johnny and give me the guns. It'll go better for you."
“That's awful sweet of you, but I think I'll be leaving here a free man. Not that I didn't enjoy our time together but swinging is not something I made plans around. Just to show there's no hard feelings, here's those guns."
He threw Hanna her gun belt. Her eyes never leaving his, she slowly unholstered her revolver, pointed it at the wall, and then span the chamber.
"Empty."
"Nobody has to know they're unloaded but you and me. I figure you'll be fine till you make Strawberry. There's still two horses outside, you can keep Professor. I'm even leaving you your belt and holster, you can't ask for fairer than that. Don't think I didn't appreciate how expensive they must have been."
"I'm going to need my bandoleer back too, and all my bullets. Fifty dollars is fifty dollars Johnny."
"Be that as it may, that's the price of my company and good nature. I think you made out really well, considering. You didn't get raped, still got all your fingers even. Hell, some people would call it a kindness if I had taken your sh*t and left you tied to that bed till some coyote found its way in. By the way, you're welcome."
"What, you want a thank you?"
"A little gratitude would be the normal exchange in a situation where I saved your life and womanhood. I'm willing to say we're even now." She gave him a half scornful cackle.
"Think you're some tarnished knight slayed the big ogre and rescued the damsel princess, that how you see it? "
"I wouldn’t ever call you a princess, but if that's how you want to tell it, it makes a better story than the ones you've been spreading about me. Or how this really went down for you."
She rolled her eyes, annoyed.
"I never asked you for any of that."
"Yet you got it anyway, free of charge and it's not even Christmas. That's just the kind of big hearted I am."
"What do you want me to do, suck your dick out of gratitude?" Johnny sighed again.
"It's just never appreciated in its lifetime."
She didn't answer, but her expression shifted like cooling embers.
"You're not that great a shot, we both know it. Why don't you just lay down the gun and save us both some problems?"
"See, because a long gun doesn't shoot like a revolver, and don't tell me you didn't know. I'm a damned sight better with this. You and I are good now. Ok?"
She hadn't moved, but she looked like she'd really like to.
"Ok?" He asked again, his voice rising. "Nod if you understand."
"Oh I understand you pretty well, but I just can't promise you that." Her voice somehow sounded pitying.
"I'm going to back out of here and close the door behind me. You can get dressed and do whatever it is you do, but that door doesn’t open until I'm good and gone. If it does, I'm going to start blasting, woman or no."
He backed away and she just watched him much like a child threatening to run away from home.
"I'm a decent shot with this." He tilted his head towards the rifle. "You don't want to find out."
"Only if I let you see me."
"Goodbye Hanna. I'm going now, don't come looking for trouble."
She didn't say anything else, just watched him. He didn't waste time after the door snapped close, but quickly unhitched the horse and in half a tick he was off and down the road.
He rode full speed, feeling pretty good, feeling...free. People throw that word around but it can only be appreciated when you've been tied to a horse for days and get some wind in your hair. The exhilaration wore off, dousing his nerves. Hanna was following him, he felt it in his bones and his balls. He was well ahead of her by now and she was probably heading to Strawberry to lick her wounds. Probably. He was ahead of her, and leaving a trail for any bounty hunter crazy and mean enough to follow.
Johnny rode till he found a cross roads, picking the direction that seemed to get the most travelers. He came to a stream soon enough, then had the horse amble down a ways before turning around and going the other direction for an hour before finding a new path.
The fear began to weigh on him, it grew cloying and downright irrational. As darkness fell, he found a tiny clearing in the woods and made himself a bed that wasn't more than a folded blanket to rest his head and another one to pull over himself. He told himself he wasn't still hiding underneath covers from Hanna like some scared kid, it was to keep creeping crawlies off him in the night. Still, he slept with his gun at hand.
His sleep was uneasy. He didn’t light a fire for fear of Hanna. A few times he started in the night, eyes meeting total darkness. There was no moon, which was good for him. He dreamed. Dreamed of Hanna creeping up on him, silent as death. Hanna looking down on him, watching him as he slept. Hanna tightening a rope around him, grinning at him with a knife in her teeth.
He awakened to morning birds chirping and the crackle of a fire, the pleasant smell of bread and pork making him forget for a moment how he'd gotten there. Hanna was sitting Indian style, wearing her hat and duster and guns, looking much like she had when he'd first met her. The only difference was her hair was loose beneath the hat and she looked in a good mood. She was holding a tin coffee pot over the fire. She gave his bleary confusion a friendly smile.
"Morning sleepyhead! Coffee?"
"Wha-...the hell?" He shook his head, blinked thrice, hard. "Gotta be dreaming."
"Could be if I'm here. So, I've got coffee, a little bacon, even a few biscuits. You soak them in the grease, nothing better."
Johnny tried reaching for his gun and Hanna just smiled wider and went back to her coffee. His holster was empty and the rifle gone. He tried to get up and quickly realized just why he couldn't. His hands were free but he was tied tight to the tree he'd slept next to.
"How the hell did you-"
"I've got a light touch when I want to. Also you snore like a pig when you sleep, you know that? Easy to tell if you're awake. I still had my rope and knife and that's all I need. I figure after breakfast, we’ll take it easy a few hours. You had me going up and down that f*cking stream last night looking for you, and I'm still sore from the arrow anyway. You got us off the beaten track here, probably take us two days to make Strawberry."
"Hanna, just, just let me go. Please. I never did anything to you! I tried as hard as I could to give us a clean break and not give you a reason to come after me."
"Yeah you did. I had this morning to think it over, over coffee and your cute little sleepy face there. So I think I want to say, thanks for doing what you did. Most men wouldn’t have done that, and I guess I didn't make it easy on you."
"Are you going to let me go?"
"Ha, sh*t no! Why would I tie you up if I was going to let you go? But how 'bout this?"
She got down on her knees and bent down so her face was just a few inches from his. When her grin wasn't psychotic it gave her an impish, girlish glow. She looked all wrong somehow when she didn’t look like she was pulling wings off flies. Hanna gave him a peck on the lips, the kiss so quick it wasn’t more than a tease.
"So thanks Lancelot."
He flushed, while she smacked her lips together like she'd tried a tasty new food. It occurred to him he may not be tied to a bed but was essentially in the same situation he'd released her from. He also got the feeling she fully appreciated the reversal as well. Cheery as she was it was almost like dealing with a new person.
"So...coffee?"
She set the steaming cup within reach, along with a plate of biscuits that had softened in the grease, alongside a lonesome but thick slice of bacon. He hesitated, before gulping the coffee and wolfing down the food. He hadn't eaten properly since the cabin, too busy running from Hanna, who watched him at his tree with a certain satisfaction.
"Chow down, you're going to need your energy."
