Kill to Live

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FRIDAY October 24th

As the sun was on it's way up and Randolph sat alone in his office thinking on the news he'd heard the night before, Guy was a hundred and fifty miles southwest just outside of Loredo. He'd been tracking a bounty that held a $3,000 dollar reward on his head. A murderer by the name of Carlos Pineda, or simply, "Crazy" Carlos. He was a nasty man with a nasty demeanor. He was a free rider because not even the worst of men cared to ride with him. He was a native to Juarez, but had spent many years wreaking havoc across Texas. He was wanted for the murder of a man and two women in El Paso, along with several other crimes that ranged from rape to stealing horses.

Guy had been on his trail for ten days and nearly four hundred miles. He tracked him from Dallas all the way down to the Rio Grande. He knew he was getting close, but he knew his target, though as foul as he was, didn't lack in cunningness and trickery.

Guy made his way downriver on the northern bank riding a tall, healthy looking brown horse named Shot. He was a three year old thoroughbred that he'd bought off a breeder in Austin. Shot was a well mannered horse that could run like the wind. Some said he was the fastest horse in Texas. Some people say a lot of things, but no doubt he was fast.

After a few miles of scouting downriver, looking for signs Pineda, Guy spotted a small fire burning out on the tip of a narrow peninsula about a quarter mile away. He climbed down off of Shot's back, reached in his saddle bag and pulled out his binoculars. As he studied the site, he could see a small tent pitched a short distance from the fire. The area was grassy and was dotted with cedar elms and some type of cypress trees. He decided on moving closer to a spot with a higher elevation. He tucked his binoculars back into the saddlebag, grabbed Shot by the reigns and began walking him up the hill. When they reached the new vantage point, he tied the horse to a tree out of sight of the camp. Guy removed his rifle from the saddle, slung it over his shoulder and moved a little closer. There was no one at the camp, but his gut told him to wait it out. A few hours passed and there was no sign of anyone. The fire had burnt out. Guy reached in his vest pocket and pulled out his silver time piece. Ten minutes past 1 o' clock. As an experienced bounty hunter, he knew that sometimes you had to play the long game. All he could do was wait.

The clock ticked. Guy's eyes remained fixated on the camp. Shot, still a short distance away plucked the remaining grass from within his reach. Guy reached back into his vest pocket and took another glance at his time piece. Half past five.

As 6 o' clock crept up, to the surprise of Guy, so did Carlos Pineda.

"Don't move!" He shouted. Carlos was standing ten feet away from Guy with a pistol drawn on his back.

"Pendejo... I know you've been following me." He said as he stared at Guy with both hate and joy in his eyes. "Eres cazarrecompensas muerto." A sadistic smile stretched across his ugly face. "You know what that means, bounty hunter?"

Guy didn't flinch or say a word. He just gazed back at him with cold eyes.

"It means you're a dead man." Pineda said as he cocked the hammer back on his pistol. "On your feet, bounty hunter." Guy slowly raised himself up off of one knee. "Drop the rifle... and don't try anything sneaky."

Guy, with his right hand, slowly reached for the strap of the rifle that was resting on his left shoulder. He lifted the gun up by the strap from around his neck and held it out in front of him with all the weight on his thumb with his palm open. He paused.

"Drop it!" Pineda screamed in rage as spit flew from his mouth and sweat ran down his face. Guy let the rifle fall. In a flash, he took all the weight off of his legs and dropped to his back as he snatched his revolver from its holster and fired before he hit the ground. Pineda's head rocked back, his body went limp and he hit the ground. "Crazy" Carlos was no more.

Guy stood up and put his pistol back in its holster. He reached down, picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder. He walked back over to his horse and tied his rifle back down to the saddle. He gave Shot a few pats on his chest and untied him from the tree. "Good boy, Shot. That's a good boy."

He picked up the body, which wreaked of alcohol and a sickening body odor, then loaded it on the back of his horse. He climbed into the saddle and made his way into Loredo.

Upon arriving, he hitched Shot to a post in front of the sheriff's office. He reached into a pocket on the inside of his jacket, pulled out a cigar and lit it. He took a long drag and exhaled. The door to the sheriff's office opened and the sheriff stepped out followed by his deputy. "Who ya got I thee?" Asked the sheriff. He was a small man in his mid-fifties.

Guy took another puff off of his cigar and replied, "Crazy Carlos Pineda, sir."

"Well, I'll be damned!" shouted the sheriff as he cracked a big smile under his large mustache. "It's about time someone took down that son of a bitch." He walked down the steps and greeted Guy with a handshake. "Come on inside, young man. Let's get you paid." Guy followed him up the steps and walked inside. The sheriff turned and hollered out to his deputy, "Charlie, unload that piece of shit and take him around back!" then shut the door behind him.

The sheriff went into a safe behind his desk and pulled out a large wad of cash. He counted out thirty bills and placed them in an envelope. "Business is looking good, I see. There's so many damn rotten bastards out there these days. We need more men like you to thin em' out."

"The world doesn't need any more men like me, sheriff. There are plenty of good men out there to do the job."

Guy took the envelope from the sheriff's hand, tipped the rim of his hat and made his way out the door.

He unhitched his horse and made his way up the road to the saloon. Once again, he tied Shot up out front and walked inside. It was loud and crowded. Smoke filled the air. There were men playing cards at a round table in the corner. Railroad workers and cowboys were scattered about the rest of the room. They were singing songs, spilling drinks all over themselves and on the floor. It was a rowdy place. Guy weaved his way through the crowd until he reached the bar. He sat down at an empty stool and motioned for the bartender.

"What'll it be?" Asked the bartender.

"Whisky'll do it." Answered Guy as he studied the room. There were deer and elk antlers hanging all over the walls. A large fireplace was on the east end of the room, but no fire. He leaned back, pulled out a cigar and gave it a light.

The bartender came back and placed a glass of whisky in front of him. Guy set a $5 dollar bill on the bar top and said, "I'm looking for a man named Keith Douglas. Heard of him?"

The bartender was a short, baldheaded man with a friendly face. He had a small black mustache. He wore a white apron that hung down to his knees. He looked up and gave the name some thought. He mumbled to himself, "Keith Douglas. Keith Douglas." He looked back at Guy and said, "No, sir. I'm sorry. Friend of yours?" as he began cleaning a glass.

"Not quite." Guy answered after taking a swig of his whisky. "He's got a thousand dollars on his head and I've heard he's been around these parts."

"Ah. A bounty hunter. I wish I could help, but that name doesn't ring a bell... I'm not sure why you're down here anyways... The big money is on it's way to Bandera." Said the bartender.

Guy's ears perked up. "What are you talking about?" He asked.

The bartender looked around nervously, put his hands on the bar and leaned in closer to Guy. He whispered, "I hear the Schilling gang is planning to move on the sheriff in Bandera. They've been holed up in San Antonio for a week or so. Schilling, alone is worth fifteen big ones."

A chill ran down Guy's back. He thought of Randolph and young Ames. He drank the rest of his drink, stood up and darted for the door. The bartender hollered at him on his way out, "Sir, you're change!" Guy didn't acknowledge him.

Once outside, he unhitched Shot, stepped into the stirrups and he was off. He rode deep into the night. He'd covered over sixty miles before Shot was worn out. He knew the horse needed to rest so they stopped at a small stream. Guy led Shot to the water, let him drink and fed him some apples. Guy was tired himself. He laid down in the grass and closed his eyes.

SATURDAY October 25th

Guy woke up to the sound of a fly buzzing around his ear. The sun had been up for a couple of hours. Shot was nearby scouring the ground for some fresh grass. Guy walked down to the stream and gave himself a quick rinse. He splashed water on his face and then made his way back to his horse. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out another cigar. He gave it a light and took a drag. He exhaled and spoke, "We've got a hundred miles to go, boy." He climbed back into the stirrups and once again, they were off.

Guy could tell Shot was still exhausted. They'd covered a whole lot of ground in the past two weeks, so he didn't push him as hard as he had the night before. At an easy pace, with the clock ticking, he rode.

The sun was beaming down and he'd put another twenty miles behind him, so he stopped at a river and let Shot get a drink. The water was crystal clear. Guy grabbed his canteen and dipped it in the River. He took a few big gulps and dipped it again. He reached in his saddle bag and pulled out some rations. A can of beans and a few bites of bread would console his empty stomach.

After a half hour, he climbed back into the saddle and marched on. Along the way, he passed open fields covered in wildflowers. He crossed rivers and road up hills and down hills. Sometimes the wind was whipping and other times it stood still. He rode all day and into the evening before he pulled up and set camp only forty miles south of Bandera. He gathered wood and built a small fire. He cooked himself a small meal and laid down to rest his eyes. Though he was tired, he stayed up a while thinking about Randolph and Ames. He knew Randolph wasn't a man to lie down, but Guy knew as well as anyone what kind of man Schilling was and what he was capable of. He hoped he wasn't too late.

SUNDAY October 26th

Guy woke up and headed out at daybreak. He had a few hours ride ahead and his gut was preaching urgency. Time passed fast and so did the miles. Shot was digging in and kicking up dust.

He was only fifteen miles out now. He reached in his vest pocket and pulled out his time piece. 9 o' clock.

Meanwhile, in Bandera...

Randolph crumpled up the bounty poster in his hand and squeezed it tight in his fist. Schilling had made his presence known and was surely closing in fast. Unbeknownst to Randolph, Guy was too. Randolph began shouting orders and pointing in all directions. The men scrambled to get into position. Williams and Wallace held the east. Blanchard and Peacock held the west. Higgins was the eye in the sky. Other men hunkered down along the road, using buildings and makeshift barricades for cover. Randolph made his way toward the center where he and Ames were to be positioned along with the two deputies.

Ames stood next to his father with his hands on his guns. As he looked around at the other men, he couldn't help but see the fear in their faces. He thought about what his father told him the night before.

"Live to die."

He had stayed up and thought about that all night. He believed it to be true, but he also came to a realization of his own. The goal in life is to survive, therefore you must kill to live.

"We've got riders to the west!" Hollered down Rick Higgins from the church, which was still occupied. All the men spun to the west. Sure enough, in the distance was a group of men on horseback moving toward town.

"How many?" Randolph yelled up to Higgins.

Higgins yelled back, "A dozen men! Maybe more!"

"We've got six or more coming in from the east!" Shouted the old, round man, Charlie Wallace.

"Sheriff! We've got another dozen pushing in from the north! Shouted Higgins as he focused down the barrel of his rifle.

It wasn't looking good for the men of Bandera. The clusters of men on horses barreled toward them like trains on their tracks. They were outnumbered. They would need a miracle to survive.

The Schilling gang closed the distance on all three sides. In a matter of minutes they would be on top of them.

Ames could now hear the rumble of the swarms of horses. He looked at his father who was staring back at him.

"Remember what I said, son!" Shouted Randolph as he drew his pistols. Ames nodded and reached for his holsters, snatching out his pistols as well. It was a matter of seconds now.

Just then a single shot rang out with a loud BOOM!

It was "Wild" Bill Blanchard's gun that fired first. Only, he didn't shoot at the enemy. He had turned and fired a shot that hit Otis Peacock in the left side of his head, killing him instantly.

Blanchard was a traitor.

The other men, confused in the chaos, didn't react before Blanchard jumped onto his horse and hightailed it toward the approaching men from the west. Bandera was down two more men and Shilling's ranks had grown by one. The defense to the west was now weakened, giving Shilling's men the advantage to come pouring in.

Boom! Boom! Boom!" The battle had begun.

Higgins fired a shot to the west, striking a man in the chest and knocking him off of his horse. His rifle spit the casing out and he fired again. "Boom!" He landed another shot that struck Wes Easterling in the face, violently throwing him to the ground.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Hank Davies and John Johnson were leading the charge from the west. Davies fired two shots, landing both of them to the chest of the butcher as his son looked on in horror. Johnson fired shot after shot, hitting one of the ranch hands in the gut.

To the east, Wade Williams and Charlie Wallace were hunkered down behind a wagon as they were being fired upon in a frenzy of bullets.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Charlie Wallace popped up and fired a shot into the crowd, hitting Alberto Rivas horse and throwing him to the ground. He fired another and hit another man in the head. Wade Williams peeked out and opened fire with a pistol in his right hand.

Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!

Wade's bullets proved fatal, striking two men. One of which was Owen Gray. He reached for his other pistol, but just then, a bullet from Fred Hayes revolver found its way through the cracks in the wagon, hitting him in the neck. His body hit the ground and he was doomed as he lay there bleeding out.

Bandera was down to seventeen men.

John the barber and the tailor were also covering the east. They let shot after shot ring out, but they were ineffective. Rick Higgins spun and fired, hitting Fred Hayes between the eyes. His body dropped from the horse and tumbled like a weed on a windy day.

To the north, Chief, along with his men were making their way toward Randolph and Ames.

Randolph, leaning up against a barricade of hay bales, leaned out and fired toward the incoming tornado of dust as bullets wizzed by his head. Ames took a deep breath and replicated his father.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

They'd each let out three shots, taking down three men before they ducked behind the hay bales for cover.

Randolph had struck Rusty Dawkins in the chest with two bullets. Ames' first bullet struck Wilson Wells in the shoulder, effectively knocking him out of the fight. His second bullet hit Mike Mitton right in the eye opposite that he wore a patch, which was irony at its best.

The numbers drew closer in fairness, but men had penetrated the west. They were barreling down the road popping shot after shot.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Men had now broke from their horses and were fighting on the ground. The butcher's son, who was leaned up against the outside of his dying father's business aimed and fired. He landed two shots on a younger gang member named Charlie Downs, dropping him instantly. He turned and fired on Hank Davies who was well hidden behind a stack of lumber. Davies fired a shot that sent Deputy Marshall flailing lifelessly to the dirt. Dust was in the air and the battle was full steam.

Charlie Wallace was letting them have it, but they were inching his way and throwing down a firestorm of bullets of their own. Charlie was letting out rounds while he was laughing and taunting the enemy. "Haha!" "You missed me, you blind bastards!" Between Charlie and Rick Higgins, they'd wiped out the the remainder of incoming men from the east, except for Alberto Rivas who had retreated on foot. They turned west and began to fire.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The men of Bandera on the west end began to retreat toward the center under the cover fire of Rick Higgins. Charlie Wallace and the men guarding the east flanked to the north to give support to Randolph and Ames.

Randolph and Ames held firm behind the hay bells, giving each other cover while the other would reload. Ames leaned out and fired, dropping an unknown cold in his tracks. Buck Sanders fired two shots that missed Ames by mere inches. Ames leaned out again and fired, landing a bullet on the thigh of Buck Sanders.

The Apache's feet were now on the ground along with the rest of his attacking squad. Ames saw him only seventy five feet away. His motions were fluid. He looked exactly how Ames had imagined. A monster of a man.

Ames ducked behind the bunker and reloaded his weapons.

Chief fired on John the barber and the tailor. He landed a clean shot on the tailor, spinning his body to the right as he fell facedown. The barber panicked and took off running. Chief, in an instant fired a shot and hit the barber in the back, penetrating his lung and knocking him to the ground. The Indian was on his back in no time, he pulled the knife from his thigh and began to peel back the scalp of the barber as he tried to scream in agony, though he couldn't. The Indian held up the scalp and let out a yell. He then turned and his eyes fell on young Ames.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Jack Schilling came flying in from the west on a large, black horse with both pistols drawn. He fired a shot and hit one of the ranchers in the chest. He fired again, nearly missing the butcher's boy's head. It was sheer mayhem. Horses were everywhere with and without riders.

Charlie Wallace, accompanied by the blacksmith and his apprentice were doing well to support the men in the center. Just then, Angus Murphy fired his rifle and caught the young apprentice in the side of the head. He slumped to the side and doubled over.

Ames, after reloading his guns, popped up and his eyes met the fearless Apache.

While Ames was looking east, his father was in a battle with Bill Blanchard and John Johnson. Randolph slung five shots at Blanchard and ducked once again. Blanchard fired back and one of his bullet hit Deputy Petty in the right side of his face, dropping him instantly. Randolph rose up again and caught a bullet to his left shoulder from Johnson's revolver. Ames turned and saw Randolph fall to his back. Quickly, Randolph stood up and returned fire. He struck Johnson in the leg and then turned and fired on the traitor. He struck Bill Blanchard twice in the chest and watched the dust fly up as his body hit the ground.

Ames saw his father recover and turned back to the Indian. Chief was now sprinting toward Ames with focused eyes and the knife he used on the butcher in his hand.

Out of nowhere, Guy came barreling in from the west with his rifle in hand.

"Boom!"

He landed a shot to the back of John Johnson's head, killing him instantly.

"Boom!"

His second shot hit Angus Murphy in the chest and knocked him back into a watering trough.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Rick Higgins continued to rain bullets on the enemy. He fired a shot that caught Jose Alvarez in the cheek, gashing his face on the left side. As he reloaded, Jackie Walsh fired a flurry of bullets at him, one of which struck him in the right shoulder and exploded out of his back. Rick fell, tumbled down the roof and hit the ground.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Guy weaved his way through the chaos, looking for Ames and Randolph. Jackie Walsh took a shot at Guy, but he missed. Guy returned fire and caught Jackie right below the chin. He looked back up and his eyes landed on Randolph in front of the Sheriff's office. "Yah!" He yelled as he kicked and dug his spurs into his horse. Shot reared, then sprinted toward Randolph and Ames.

Ames eyes were still fixed on the Indian, he was less than twenty feet away and closing fast. Ames fired, but the Indian moved like a shadow.

Randolph was still firing to the north, he emptied his pistols and ducked once again to reload. He turned to Ames and saw the Indian baring down on them. As quickly as he could, he reloaded and tried to draw on the Indian.

"Boom!"

One shot rang out from the gun of Jack Schilling. Randolph's head went forward and he landed face down in the dirt Ames' feet. He looked down and saw his father's dead body as he lay there with blood pooling beneath his head. He couldn't believe it, but he knew it was reality. As he turned back, The Indian was lunging for him. Ames didn't even have time to draw on him. It was all over.

Guy saw it happen in slow motion. He saw Schilling mortally wound his friend. He saw the Indian coming for young Ames.

Guy, with Shot at full speed, stood up on the saddle and dove off. He slammed into the Comanche with full force, knocking him to the ground. As Guy was getting up, the Indian was already on him. Chief tackled Guy back to the ground and the two rolled around in a flurry of fists and dust. Guy fought tooth and nail but the Indian was too strong. He had his knife dug into Guy's chest and was set to plunge it into him.

"Boom!"

The Indian rolled off of him and disappeared into the chaos. Ames had fired one round into the ribs of the Indian. The Schilling gang, though depleted and battered had successfully put an end to Randolph. The remaining men were retreating. Charlie Wallace was still sending rounds in their direction while laughing like a mad man.

The dust had settled. The gunfire had stopped and the town was silent. Bodies of men and horses were scattered all over. The butcher's boy stood over his father's body with tears in his eyes. The doors of the church swung open and the women and children began shrieking and sobbing. Ames knelt by Randolph's body with a heavy heart. Guy was a few feet away looking on as young Ames grieved over the loss of his father. Unlike the butcher's boy, he didn't shed a single tear.