Bounty Hunter

by Michelle E Lowe

  “It isn’t his fault,” Pierce stated. “Touch the lad again and I’ll break your arm.”

  Tarak clutched the back of Pierce’s vest, peering around fretfully at the angry mob surrounding them and now screaming at him in different languages.

  Someone else called out, “Gringo!”

  Sheriff Emmanuel Flores, his deputy, and a handful of other men wearing badges cut through the throng and halted in front of them. Gaining the law’s attention made Pierce gulp.

  “This boy is yours, gringo?” the lawman asked in perfect English.

  “He’s my responsibility, aye,” Pierce admitted.

  The sheriff’s thick black eyebrows rose. “British, huh? We’ve had a not-so-pleasant history with the British.”

  Pierce gritted his teeth. Over the centuries, the English had left a long and often bloody trail over the globe. It hadn’t earned them any favors.

  “Would it help if I informed you I’m also part French?” he added hopefully.

  Emma thankfully jumped in. “Sheriff Flores, it was my own machine, and there is no possible way it could’ve run. It has no oil in it.”

  “Is that so, señorita?” he challenged her. “Let’s go have a look.”

  Emma gladly showed them the engine, which had been mildly damaged by the crash. When she untwisted the oil pan underneath, thick black liquid poured out.

  “That’s impossible,” she gasped.

  Pierce closed his eyes. Things would only get worse from there.

  “It seems, señorita, that your machine is full of fuel.”

  “The boy!” the Arabian man hollered. “He is to blame for this!”

  Tarak’s grip on Pierce’s vest tightened. “I didn’t turn it on, Mr. Landcross,” he whispered.

  “I believe you, lad.”

  Pierce thought it was the damnedest thing. The engine only started when the crank was turned, and Tarak hadn’t been behind it when it was fired up. Something wasn’t right.

  “The boy is under my care,” he announced.

  Sheriff Flores and his men seemed pleased by that statement.

  “You do realize that if anyone is dead in there, Englishman, it’ll qualify as murder, which means you could hang.”

  Pierce subconsciously rubbed his throat above his scarf, remembering the painful experience of being strung up by Ivor Norwich.

  “We should lynch him!” someone chimed in unhelpfully.

  “Agreed,” the Arabian man re-joined. “Lynch the bastard.”

  Pierce noted his harsh tone and wondered what the bloody hell he ever did to him, other than take liability for the damages. The crowd seemed all in favor of the deadly suggestion. Deputy Ortega shouted in Spanish. Pierce hoped he was calling for calm. The grim look on Emma’s face suggested otherwise.

  The people who understood raised their voices at what the deputy was telling them. Pierce reckoned the deputy was echoing what the foreigner had said.

  Pierce knew they’d kill him and the boy.

  “Sheriff Flores,” Jaxton intervened, suddenly emerging from the bloodthirsty crowd.

  The Australian stood beside Pierce. He clasped Pierce’s shoulder and began speaking to the sheriff in Spanish. He spoke in a serious tone that got the sheriff’s attention immediately. As they chatted, Emma’s expression became wide with shock.

  The sheriff asked Jaxton a question.

  “Sí,” Jaxton concluded, looking at Pierce with a grin. He said in English, “Pierce Landcross is the finest bounty hunter around.”

  Pierce nearly dropped dead on the spot. “Bounty hunter?”

  Jaxton continued to grin, but his eyes urged Pierce to go along with it.

  “Is this true, Señor Landcross?” Sheriff Flores demanded.

  There weren’t many things that could stun Pierce. Being dubbed a bounty hunter did the trick. It wasn’t until Jaxton’s grip on his shoulder tightened that he focused.

  “Aye,” he said with as much sincerity as he could manage.

  “And a bounty hunter is what you need, eh, sheriff?” Jaxton continued. “Someone to track down those bandits who keep robbing the Guaymas City Bank?”

  Pierce remembered Jaxton telling him about that at the Chinchilla Cantina.

  Sheriff Flores sized Pierce up as if doubting a skinny gringo was capable of tracking a band of bandits. Pierce had similar doubts.

  “Did you come here on that galleon ship?” the sheriff asked Pierce. “The one with those giant fans? It was spotted passing the city the other day.”

  Before Pierce could answer, Jaxton said something to the sheriff. Whatever it was, it got the sheriff and Deputy Ortega to cross their arms. Their expressions hardened as their thoughts fell to deep deliberation.

  “I’d say that’s a fair trade off, eh, Sheriff?” Jaxton concluded in English.

  “What’s a fair trade off?” Pierce asked.

  “Shush,” Jaxton hissed from the corner of his mouth.

  “Maybe,” Sheriff Flores said flatly. “If none have been killed, that is.”

  The wily Australian clambered onto the wreckage of the dragon. “Are there any dead in there?” he asked in English and then in Spanish.

  There was a gut-wrenching moment of silence when no one answered. Then voices began rising.

  “I think all are counted for,” someone announced. “No dead.”

  Jaxton turned and shrugged. “Seems the Fates aren’t cutting anyone’s threads tonight, Sheriff.”

  Pierce eyed the sheriff. “Let the boy go. I’ll stay and take whatever punishment comes.”

  The sheriff shifted his sights to him. He grabbed Pierce by the arm and lead him away a few steps. Tarak was momentarily left without a shield until Emma took Pierce’s place.

  “The Australian suggested that if you catch those bastard bank thieves, you can use the bounty on their heads to pay for the damages.”

  Pierce had to admit it did sound like a fair trade—a better deal than a bloodthirsty crowd throwing a rope around his neck, anyway.

  “That bambino is from the Apache tribe, sí?”

  Pierce hesitated. “Aye.”

  Sheriff Flores moved aside Pierce’s unbuttoned shirt lapel and eyed the incomplete figure-eight scar on his chest.

  “That’s how they brand their ponies. Do you belong to them, Señor Landcross?”

  “I belong to no one,” Pierce seethed, pushing the sheriff’s hand off him.

  “Wrong, gringo,” the sheriff snarled. “I own you now and let me explain to you why. Bad things will come to many if you do not deliver. Here, in Guaymas, we have signed a peace treaty with the Apache that allows them to stay where they are so long as we receive no trouble from them. Mayor Belén has a soft spot for the savages, understand? However, in light of what the boy has done, it could qualify as a violation of the treaty.”

  Pierce’s mouth went drier than the desert plains outside the city.

  “As much as I would enjoy taking my aggression out on the Apache, Señor Landcross, I’d rather get my hands on those bank thieves. And if that Apache ship tries to leave, I swear to you, the savage’s vessel won’t get far, for I’ll send word to the Mexican Naval fleet to sink it to the bottom of the ocean.”

  Pierce slumped under his new responsibility. The sheriff grabbed the nape of Pierce’s neck, his coarse fingers digging in. In a voice so dark and deadly serious it felt like an ominous storm brewing overhead, Sheriff Flores said, “I’ve decided to test your caliber, gringo, and allow you to take the boy to his village. If you do not return by morning, I’ll hang the Australian and afterwards, bring an army to run those savage prairie trash into the ground. Do you hear me, English?”

  “Aye,” he acknowledged. “Where do I need to go in the morning?”

  “The courthouse, to be sworn in.”

  Pierce finally jerked his head from the man’s grasp. “Sworn in? Are you planning on deputizing me?”

  “Sí, Bounty Hunter Landcross,” the sheriff snickered. “We need to make you legal to
hunt down these outlaws. Once we pin a badge on you, you’ll be temporally employed by the City of Guaymas.”

  For an ex-outlaw like Pierce, becoming a deputized lawman felt surreal.

  “Aye. I’ll be at the courthouse.”

  As Jaxton made his way down the wreckage, Pierce approached and pulled him aside.

  “Listen, boyo,” Pierce said softly, “the sheriff has threatened your life if I fail to show up at the courthouse tomorrow morning.”

  Jaxton’s jaw dropped, and his eyes filled with sudden dread.

  “I’m taking Tarak to his village,” Pierce explained. “I will be at the courthouse. No worries.”

  Jaxton’s eyes moved and latched onto something behind him. “No worries, eh? That’s easy enough for you to say.”

  Deputy Ortega and another lawman grabbed Jaxton by his arms.

  “Oi!” Pierce said as they led him off. “Where are you taking him?”

  Sheriff Flores slapped a hard hand against Pierce’s chest, stopping him from following. “He’ll be safe at my jailhouse, so long as you show up.”

  Pierce had little choice but to watch the sods take Jaxton away. To his utter dismay, he saw Jaxton’s lover, Leonardo, watching with confusion.

  “Bugger,” Pierce grunted.

  “What’s going on?” Emma asked as he approached her. “Why are they arresting Jaxton?”

  “The sheriff wants me at the courthouse tomorrow to be sworn in. They’re holding Jaxton as bloody collateral to make sure I show up.”

  “You’re joking,” she said in disbelief. “He’s not forcing you to stay in the city?”

  “No. I’m allowed to take Tarak home. Listen, can you go over to that feller over there and tell him what’s happening? His name is Leonardo. He’s a friend of Jaxton’s.”

  Emma looked over at the man Pierce had pointed to and nodded. “Sí, I will talk to him.”

  “Cheers.” He eyed Tarak. “C’mon, lad, let’s get you to your village. I have a lot of explaining to do.”

  As they cut through the angry crowd, Pierce spied the tall foreigner who was staring at him with malice. He half expected him to lash out and bite. There was something dodgy about the man.

  * * *

  The sun began to set as Pierce and Tarak rode out of Guaymas. It was a long, quiet ride, but inside Pierce’s head, there were arguments going on.

  When they returned to the village, Pierce gathered his family, Sees Beyond, Chief Sea Wind, and Waves of Strength inside of Chief Victorio and Nascha’s hogan.

  He explained everything from the crash, and what Jaxton had told Sheriff Flores, to the agreement he’d made with the lawman, and what was at stake if Pierce failed.

  “If I’m not in the city by morning, the sheriff will send trouble—bad trouble your way,” he concluded to Chief Victorio.

  For a long moment, no one uttered a single word.

  “Are you saying the treaty between the tribe and Guaymas is in jeopardy over this, Landcross?” Waves of Strength asked.

  Her irate tone only added to his troubled mood.

  Waves of Strength stood as she shouted, “My family is now under the threat of being massacred because of your foolishness? What’s the matter with you?”

  Pierce wanted to hide under a rock. He thought about justifying himself, but Taisia did it for him.

  “Did you not hear him?” she seethed at Waves of Strength. “It wasn’t his fault what happened. You shouldn’t blame him for this.”

  “She’s right,” Sees Beyond said, also standing. “It sounds as though there was some sort of malfunction with this racing machine that my son was in. None of this is anyone’s fault. It’s simply a bad coincidence.”

  Waves of Strength gave her a cross look. “That’s all that follows Pierce Landcross—a slew of bad coincidences.”

  She had a point.

  “I’ve said this once, Landcross,” she added hotly, “and I’ll say it many times over. We should have left you to rot on that prison ship.”

  “Waves!” Chief Sea Wind shouted.

  It was the first time Pierce had ever heard him yell at her. His loud voice did nothing to alter her disgruntled look. She glared at her husband before storming out of the hut.

  Pierce felt like pure shite.

  A comforting hand rested on his shoulder.

  “Are you all right, my love?” Taisia asked.

  He raised his chin to her. Her eyes were so welcoming. His gut twisted painfully when thinking about how they were about to undergo a strenuous trial, one that might prove more dangerous than the others he had gone through.

  “I’ve been better,” he answered softly.

  “Landcross,” Chief Victorio called.

  Pierce immediately turned his head. The man had a knack for grabbing someone’s full attention. “Aye, Chief?”

  “There is great danger for us all. Are you sure you can find these bank robbers?”

  Pierce gritted his teeth so hard it almost felt as if he’d chip a tooth. He wanted to tell him yes, and that the tribe had nothing to fear. However, the truth of the matter was that he simply didn’t hold such confidence in himself.

  “I’ll try my damnedest, Chief. That’s all I can promise.”

  Grandmother Fey had kept her silence throughout the meeting. It made Pierce curious about her thoughts.

  Chief Victorio nodded as though respecting Pierce’s honesty—or perhaps he was hiding his concern.

  “We shall smoke in honor of the spirits,” he said, reaching for the pipe. “And we shall ask them to guide and protect you on your journey.”

  The smell of the smoke made Taisia ill, so she and Grandmother Fey left the hut. Everyone else stayed. It was interesting, seeing his mum smoke. She did her best not to cough. Afterwards, Pierce walked his parents to their own hut.

  “Are you really going after these criminals?” his mother asked, then let out a small cough.

  “I have little choice, Mum. If I’m not there, that bastard sheriff will bring carnage to the Apache and hang the feller, Jaxton.”

  “Where do you have to be?” his father inquired.

  “The courthouse. To be sworn in.”

  “Sworn in? As in . . . make you an official lawman?”

  Lawman Landcross. It sounded odd to him.

  “Aye.”

  Jasper snorted. “Better to be the hunter than the hunted, eh, son?”

  Jasper’s attempt to bring levity to the dire situation did not sit well with his wife, whose glare made his jaw snap shut.

  “You’re not a bounty hunter,” she retorted. “You have no experience.”

  “I’ll use the wits I have, Mum. I was an outlaw for most of my life.”

  “Oui,” she grunted disapprovingly. “Do not remind me.”

  He understood, especially now that he was about to be a parent himself. Nona had never approved of her sons becoming wanted men and living as petty thieves. The dangers that followed them both from being outlaws, the endless life-threatening situations her boys had fallen into, not to mention the sort of enemies they made along the way. Pierce hadn’t even told them, or anyone else, about the darkest chapter of his life with Volker Jäger. For Pierce, however, it had simply been a life. Yet, looking at it through the eyes of a parent, he realized he’d never want any of it for his own children.

  “My point is that I’m able to think like a fugitive,” he told her, “which is how bounty hunters are usually able to track down their bounties. It’s my only chance.”

  “Maybe I ought to come with you, son,” Jasper offered. “You shouldn’t have to do this on your own.”

  Having his father join him appealed to Pierce. Not only would it be nice to have the company, but Jasper was also a clever and resourceful Gypsy. Even so, the danger was just too great.

  Waves of Strength appeared with her brother, Itza-chu. “Landcross,” she fumed.

  “Aye? What is it?”

  “Itza-chu is coming with you,” she stated. “He knows the land and w
ill help you capture these people you’re tracking.”

  Waves of Strength said something to her younger brother in Apache. It sounded like an order. He simply nodded and responded in a soft tone. She then stormed off the only way Waves of Strength could and vanished into the darkness.

  Itza-chu grinned at Pierce before taking his less dramatic leave. “See you in the morning, W.H.”

  “Saying that bloody nickname using initials doesn’t make it any better, tosser!”

  His mum sighed with relief. “Itza-chu is going with you? Oh, good.”

  “It seems so,” Pierce said. “I think I’ll be fine now, Dad. You stay behind with Mum, eh?”

  Pierce headed for his own hut, relying on the light of the half-moon to find his way. A figure stepped in his path. It nearly caused him to pull his pistol.

  “Pierce,” Grandmother Fey said. “I have seen into your paths and I have spoken to the spirits.”

  “Christ, Grandma,” he exclaimed. “Don’t bloody do that.”

  “Your paths are many,” she went on. “A lot of them aren’t good ones.”

  He grimaced at the news. “Wonderful. And what do your spirits say?”

  He wished he was able to see her expression, especially when she said nothing for a long moment.

  “Grandma?”

  “The spirits aren’t completely sure what has happened today, after the races.”

  “Nothing bloody happened other than my cursed luck.”

  “No, Grandson, they believe otherwise. I sense it myself. Someone has had a hand in the accident.”

  He didn’t fancy the sound of that.

  “Grand,” he huffed. “You claimed that you saw into my future. Did you see me catching the bank robbers? Do you know where they are?”

  “Not their exact location, non. I did see one man in a cantina outside of the city. I feel he is heading north along the coast. You can catch him if he does not kill you first. There will be a woman in a dress shop—a specialty store, I think. She is extremely dangerous and has the ability to kill you, as well. I know nothing about the others. Their locations are dark and hazy.”

  “I understand, Grandma,” he grunted, feeling perturbed. “Cheers.”

  “You’re in serious trouble, Pierce. Do you remember our discussion at Joaquin’s wake? About your fate thread?”