Chapter 27
“At least let the kid go,” Deadshot requested.
The kid still had his whole life to live.
He might never find his mother or sister without Deadshot’s help.
However, as things stood right now, they weren’t any closer to finding them anyway.
The kid could go back home, run the ranch, and make something of his life.
“Not happening,” the man replied. “In fact, I think I’ll kill him first so that you have to watch it.”
Deadshot shrugged. “He’s not mine. I don’t want him to die, but if you think killing him in front of me is going to make up for me killing your brother, you’re sorely mistaken.”
Next to him, the kid sucked in his breath.
Clearly, Deadshot’s words had affected him.
Deadshot hadn’t said them because they were true, but to try to convince the bandit that the kid meant nothing to him.
Of course, Deadshot would never admit that he actually cared about the kid.
Caring wasn’t something he did willingly.
Caring made him weak, and Deadshot did not want to be weak.
“I think I’ll start with him anyway.” He glanced over his shoulder. “What do you all think?”
“Kill the kid,” one of them said.
“Torture him first,” another added.
The whole situation was absolutely ridiculous, and the conversation was carrying on for way too long.
Deadshot did not have the time or patience to entertain simpletons like them.
If they wanted a fight, they would have one.
Without warning or another word, he drew his Colt, lifted it so that the barrel was aimed at the man’s chest, and pulled the trigger.
Deadshot might not be the young bounty hunter he used to be, and his knees and body were definitely not the same, but he was still able to draw his pistol and fire it faster than the bandits could react.
The sound of the shot echoed through the saloon, causing chaos to erupt.
Some men drew their weapons, while others ran for the door.
The tall bandit who had started the fight and gotten a bullet in his chest for his efforts stumbled back and crashed to the ground.
Deadshot spared a glance in the kid’s direction.
To his relief and surprise, the kid had already drawn his weapon.
One of the four men who was with the instigator pulled back his arm and swung it toward Deadshot.
The man next to him was lifting his pistol in the kid’s direction.
Deadshot had to act fast. Grabbing the man’s arm who was trying to punch him, Deadshot spun him around and pushed him into the other man.
They toppled to the ground, causing the man to accidentally pull the trigger.
“Hide,” Deadshot instructed, looking at the kid. “And don’t get killed.”
His eyes were wide as he nodded and dashed away. He couldn’t get out; the door was still blocked, and Deadshot didn’t have the time to watch him. The kid was clever. He would find a safe spot to take cover.
In front of him, the two men left standing were advancing on him.
Both had their pistols drawn. It was not a good position for Deadshot to be in, and he was pretty sure in that moment that he was going to get shot.
He immediately pulled the trigger of his Colt, not even bothering to aim.
It didn’t matter if it was a kill shot as long as it stopped the man from shooting him.
The .44 slug entered the man’s thigh, causing him to scream from the pain and lose his focus. His pistol slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground, just as Deadshot had hoped it would. Unfortunately, the other man was readying to pull the trigger.
A shot rang out from the other side of the saloon, and before Deadshot could even figure out what was happening, the man in front of him dropped to the ground.
From the corner of his eye, Deadshot saw the kid holding his Colt.
A flood of emotion washed over him in that moment: pride, relief, gratitude, but mostly worry.
The kid was supposed to be hiding but had put himself in danger to help Deadshot.
They had the upper hand now, but three of the five bandits were still alive, and Deadshot had to act fast. Not wasting any time, he spun toward the bandit who had been blocking the door and put a bullet between his eyes.
Now only two remained: the one whom Deadshot had shot in the thigh and the one who had been thrown over when his friend landed on him.
The injured man had picked up his gun again and was aiming it in the kid’s direction.
The other man was getting to his feet. Deadshot’s initial instinct was to attack the man who was focused on him, but he ignored that instinct and fired at the man who had his gun pointed at the kid instead.
They pulled the triggers at the exact same time.
The man’s body slumped back, but Deadshot’s eyes were on the kid, watching in amazement as he leaped out of the way, fell to the ground, and readied his pistol again, just like Deadshot had taught him.
Maybe the kid was more capable than Deadshot thought.
He wanted to stay focused on the kid but knew he couldn’t.
The last of the bandits was almost on him.
Not wanting to get shot, Deadshot ducked down and kicked the man’s legs out from under him. The man went down with a loud thud, and Deadshot quickly pushed himself back up again. His knees protested against the sudden movements, but he ignored the pain as he put a slug in the man’s chest.
While the fight was happening, some of the patrons had escaped, while others simply hid and watched.
All in all, the whole shootout had taken less than five minutes, but Deadshot knew from experience that that was enough time to draw the local law’s attention.
Under normal circumstances, he would have waited for them to explain the situation and see if there was a bounty on any of the outlaws’ heads, but in that moment, he didn’t feel like dealing with any of that.
He and the kid were on a mission, and dealing with the law was the last thing he felt like doing.
“Come on!” he called, glancing toward the kid. “Let’s get out of here.”
The kid jumped into action, running to the door. Deadshot allowed him to exit first and then quickly followed after him. His whole body was aching at this point, but the adrenaline running through his veins was masking it. He would pay for it later but was enjoying the moment.
Luckily, their horses weren’t far. They had tied them up across the road, in front of the hardware store, and within seconds, they had untied and mounted them.
“Did you see me?” the kid asked, excitement clear in his voice, as they took off down the road.
“Sure did!” Deadshot replied, feeling just as excited. It hadn’t been an ideal situation, but they had made it out alive, and Deadshot couldn’t be prouder of the kid.
***
Rider was a bundle of nerves and excitement. The fear of almost being killed, combined with the intensity of actually shooting somebody, was almost more than he could handle. His mind was spiraling, and he was trying to hold on.
They had escaped and were unharmed. That was what mattered, but what the hell happened back there?
Those men simply attacked them because of who Deadshot was.
It was madness. Thinking of Deadshot as some famous and feared bounty hunter felt strange now.
At first, when they started their journey, Rider had been afraid of the man, but now he saw him differently.
Sure, he was scary at times, but he was also Rider’s friend.
When he had first met Deadshot, he never imagined the two of them being friends, but during their time together, Deadshot had allowed him to see a different side of him. The big bad bounty hunter wasn’t so scary, as long as you stayed on his good side, of course.
They raced through town, escaping the chaos.
People yelled at them to slow down or to stop, but they only went faster.
Rider wasn’t sure why they were making a hasty escape, but in that moment, he didn’t care.
He was running on adrenaline and the thrill of the fight.
He would ask Deadshot why they didn’t stick around later, but for now, he was doing exactly as the bounty hunter said.
Soon enough, they had left the town behind, and Rider’s heart started to slow down. The rush that he had felt earlier during the fight was wearing off and was slowly being replaced by the reality of the situation. He had just been in his first shootout, and he had killed a man.