“Ai,” says Germanicus. “You speak hard truth. You have my blessing.”
Merlin offers his hand and Germanicus takes it. They shake. “Then we are in agreement?” asks Merlin.
Germanicus nods. “Ai. Set watch and warrant it.”
Chapter 18: The Last Job
Talgath puts the remaining grenados in his satchel and zips it closed. His near comatose heartbeat speeding up faster. His gang, Jameson, Roy and Hemeth load their revolvers and pack extra ammunition for the robbery. This will be their biggest exploit yet.
Talgath places another set of ammunition inside his saddlebag. He glances at the others with his signature arrogant look. “All right then pubes. We ready to take our fill?”
“We are better off waiting a day so as we can survey things. You ken?” protests Jameson, the prudent one in the group. “The town is awful quiet, almost too quiet.” He warns.
“Of course it’s quiet,” says Hemeth. “It’s Sunday morning, and the bank is closed. Most of the decent folks are in church.”
“Our goals would be better served if we waited and learned what they are up to,” says Jameson.
“It sounds like someone is getting cold feet. Perhaps our last skirmish has made you over-jumpy Jameson. I believe it is now or never,” offers Roy.
“What do you ken, Talgath?” interrogates Jameson, knowing his penchant for caprice and brazen acts.
“I believe Roy is right. It is now or never. We are now being pursued by at least three posses, one from north and two from the west. Malachai and his brother, Devlin, from the north. You have heard the rumors of Malachai?” He asks.
“Ai,” say the men. “Course It’s hard to separate fiction from fact. You ken?” asks Jameson.
“That’s true,” notes Talgath. “But if only half of them are true, we are in for some serious trouble. They call him the butcher of the West Indies.”
“Helluva lot of butchers round here,” notes Jameson.
Talgath looks at him and laughs in derision. “Well, maybe if you learned to read, you would know. They call Malachai The Butcher because he is the most prolific bounty hunter around. They say he skins his bounties, cuts their heads, and hangs them in his trophy room. This is for those lovely ladies he aims to entertain and entertain them he does.”
“They’s just rumors,” says Roy, sounding worried and unsure.
Talgath smiles, enjoying Roy’s discomfort. “Perhaps some of them are rumors. One thing that is not a rumor is his bounties have made him a rich man. And, if you are unlucky enough to face him in a gunfight, you will never survive. Supposedly, Pent and the reindeer men are coming from the west. You’ve heard of him?”
“The fuck we’ve heard of him,” bellows Jameson. “If he’s on our tail, then we’re all dead. The man once pursued a band of twelve bank robbers and horse thieves through the Pianese Mountains. In a three-days time, he butchered and beheaded them all. Set watch and warrant it, he is not tripe. We’re doomed,” cries Jameson.
“High cock and ass Talgath, you did not think to tell us of this before?” Roy asks. “For Christ’s sake, why?”
Talgath smirks. “Perhaps I thought it might unnerve you a tripe. See now I was right.”
“It dooms us!” Jameson bemoans.
“You wish to lie down and die, runt?” asks Talgath. “Our position is tenuous. In the grand scheme of things, it matters little whether we rob this bank. We aroused authorities’ suspicions everywhere. Kent’s sixth battalion headed up by the Ostra-Gauls is on us. When we were in Juris, I saw the telegraph for myself. So, you see this is our dilemma.”
Roy, Jameson and Hemeth nod their heads in frustration and despair.
“Men, we haven’t lost yet. This is what I propose. We rob this bank together and this will be our last job. Our only chance at survival is to separate. If we stay together, we are as Jameson puts it, ‘doomed’. I will find another gang. After this job, I will travel to the City State of Percy and cross the strait to Corsica.”
“Rather be dead than have to go to Corsica,” complains Jameson.
“Perhaps I can see to that,” says Talgath. “You will go where you want, set watch and warrant.”
Jameson stares hard at Talgath. His blood-red eyes narrow to slits with a furrowing of his brow-his attempt at intimidation. “You are responsible for our dilemma and will lead us to our death. Perhaps I can preclude my death with yours, an apt peace offering.
“A threat?” asks Talgath.
“A warning.”
“Perhaps you wish to usurp me, then?”
Talgath remains calm while Jameson’s heart trip-hammers in his chest. Knowing Jameson will react, Talgath flinches. They are only inches away from each other. Jameson reaches for his speed-shooter, but he is no match for Talgath’s speed. Talgath grabs his wrist and twists it. A loud crack snaps, breaking it.
At the same moment, he reaches for his butterfly knife and flips open the blade. He slashes it across Jameson’s throat. His jugular severed, blood gushes out of his throat, draining his life with it. He gurgles and spits, dropping to his knees, latching onto Talgath. Talgath pushes him off, and he plops to the floor. His body twitches as crimson soils his neck and shirt.
Talgath look to the other men, with vicious menace in his eyes. “Anyone else wishes to register complaint voice it now. Jameson wanted early retirement from outfit. Are you men with me or against me? Speak it now!” He demands.
“Agreement!” yell Roy and Hemeth.
“Then let us be off!” says Talgath.
Chapter 19: Estranged
Herod pulls the parchment paper out of the telegraph machine and peruses it. He smiles.
Morgana picks up his thoughts easily. “You have found your spaid in the hole, have you not, Herod-Sai?”
Herod nods. “Ai. I have laid it at my table. Set watch and warrant it so.”
“Talgath?” She asks, knowing it is.
“Delivered at my feet. Too good to be true.”
“His father estranged from him, is he not?”
Herod nods. “Ai. But never underestimate a father’s capacity for forgiveness.”
“But not yours.” She retorts.
Herod looks at her in a wounded manner. “A painful slight.”
She retraces. “I cry pardon.”
Herod shrugs, conceding in his heart she was right. “Send in Felinius.”
“Ai, Herod-Sai.”
Felinius emerges several minutes later. He wears a nonchalant, bored expression on his face. “Is it time to relieve Menelaeus of his gold again?”
Herod shakes his head and smiles. “No, Felinius. Something much more profitable. I may soon have something that no amount of money could ever buy.”
Felinius’ eyes light up and he looks curious. “You’ve piqued my curiosity. Speak mind.”
“Tell me, do you know of Talgath?”
“I’ve known of a couple. The one of disrepute is Talgath Selenius, heir and son of Pontius Selenius III. I assume it’s him whom you are speaking?”
Herod nods. “Ai.”
“And what is it you hope to gain from this? You know well Pontius is at odds with Talgath.”
“Ai, for the time being. But it’s the leverage I need. Should Talgath fall on desperate circumstances, I may coerce his father into complicity for aiding the man.”
“Where is Talgath?” asks Felinius. “Is he even in custody yet?”
“Not yet but close to being caught.”
“Caught or killed. I believe that is his fate.”
“As of this moment, there are three posses after him. Malachai, his posse the reindeer men, and Pent Savage are hot on his trail. They will soon converge on him, set watch and warrant it.”
“So, they’ll kill him soon? Seems he won’t do you much good then.”
Herod looks at Felinius with a contemptuous sneer. “There’s a large bounty on his head. Two thousand gold pence to the one that brings him in alive. Only one if he is dead or beheaded. So you se
e it is in their best interest to keep him alive.”
Chapter 20: Unlikely Ruse
Talgath, Roy and Hemet ride into the town of Farley. Though it is a Sunday, and most of the town is probably in church, it is eerily quiet. Not one person is seen on the streets. They ride to Main Street and observe a few shops-a blacksmith named Jensen, Butler’s General Store, a harrier shop, habdashery, saloon, another larger and better maintained saloon, and brothel, a finery shop selling an array of fine cutlery, plates, toys, chocolate, spices, talcum, soap, linament, specialty cheeses and canned produce- a little of everything for the wayward traveler.
Outside of the town square, there are two churches. Several fort wagons, horses, several mules, and some reindeer are tethered outside. The trio hears an organ sound piercing the uncanny silence.
Roy and Talgath smile to themselves and seem to have the same thought. We’re good. Let’s do this. Hemet seems reluctant. He wipes the sweat away from his forehead and touches the butt of his guns reflexively as if it will give him some inner confidence.
“I don’t know about this.” He says.
“We’re doing this,” 2ays Talgath. “As you can see, the entire town is at Church. That’s 25,000 gold pence and 25 Gaulian tallbacks. You want to walk away from all that? Just stick to the plan. You and Roy are the looksees and I’ll get the loot.”
Hemet shakes his head but relents. He can’t walk away from that much money. “Alright. Don’t feel too good about it, but Ai, let’s do it and bug the fuck out.”
Talgath goes to his saddlebag and retrieves a set of needle-nose pliers and a tiny pinion wrench. He puts them both through the lock and manipulates it carefully. After a few minutes, his pinion wrench and the pliers move the tumblers closer together. The lock clicks open. He looks back at them. “We’re in gentlemen.”
Talgath goes inside the bank, a well-maintained building for a growing town. The wooden floorboards are well polished and free of dirt. many forms are on top of two of the desks that sit to the left of the front counter. A rubber stamp, a couple dozen pens, parchment paper, a telegraph machine and a set of keys are on a hook next to the counter. Talgath pulls a small door out that leads past the counter. He looks at the large safe. As to be expected, the keys that open it up are nowhere to be found.
He digs through his saddlebag and takes out two miniature-sized grenados and then some rough tape and tapes the two grenados to the door of the safe. He lights them and then gets behind a desk on the other side of the counter. Seconds later, the blast is deafening. The force of the mini-explosion blows the door of the safe off, smacking into the counter and punching a good-sized hole in it.
Noxious smoke fills the room and a smile fire erupts around the safe. Talgath grabs a curtain from one of the windows and rips it off. He smothers the fire with the curtain and then waves away the smoke to discover the contents of the safe.
A smile erupts on his face- until he looks inside. There’s nothing there. The contents have been strategically emptied. “Fuck!” He mutters to himself.
The moment that Jebediah hears the deafening boom from inside the bank, he whistles in an ear-cringing high-pitched tone. “Alright boys! Showtime!”
The men who had been laying in wait, on their knees at Jensen’s Saloon spring into action. Cocking their pistols and rifles and running out into the streets.
“Hands up!” commands Jebediah.
Roy fires first and then doubles back in the opposite direction, hoping to throw his pursuers off. Hemet draws his guns and shoots the first person he sees, which is Jebediah. He fires a couple of haphazard shots although one ricochet’s off a post only a couple of feet from Jebediah’s deputy Sam.
Jebediah pumps his gun and fires on the run, sending a slug straight into Hemet’s torso. The bullet rips through him, sending him flying back into the bank glass. He lands with a thud on the desk. He is barely aware of the fact that the fall had nearly broken his back. He expels copious amounts of blood from both the entrance and exit wound and struggles to breathe as the blood fills up his lungs. He looks at Talgath with a defeated look of consternation. What the fuck just happened?
Hemet tries to say something, but the collapse of his lung precludes it. He manages only to spew blood from his mouth like a rabid dog and then drops his head as darkness overtakes him. Talgath goes to the busted window and starts to fire off another round of shots.
“Put your guns down!” Yells Jebediah, while pumping his rifle for another round. He fires into the bank again, shattering another window with his high-powered slug. Talgath instinctively ducks down on the floor and then starts to reload.
“I’m coming out!” yells Talgath.
(2)
After firing off a few rounds as cover, Roy rounds the corner, sprints away from the bank as fast as he can. Unfortunately, the men are well prepared for this maneuver. The moment he sprints on the other side of the bank, a group of men ride out to meet him.
“Throw down your guns!” yells Deputy Pincher.
Roy doesn’t relent. Instead, he grabs both guns from his holsters and fires them in rapid succession. The first bullet goes wild, but the second one penetrates through Pincher’s horse’s neck. She whinnies frenetically and then drops to the ground as the life drains from her.
She crashes down on top of Pincher, suffocating him. He cries out. As he does, Roy finishes him with a slug to the head. It penetrates his brain and exits out of the back of his skull, emitting a splattering of blood and pools in the back while darkness overtakes him.
Two other deputies ride up and fire. One takes his shotgun and fires it, taking off a huge chunk of a post only feet from the direction Roy is running. He ducks down and fires back.
As he does, a bullet penetrates his left wrist, causing him to cry out and drop one of his revolvers. He fires the other one at the deputy who winged him. The other deputy with the shotgun has now lined up his sites on him. He fires again, this time with deliberate aim. The deafening gunblast coincides with the devastating effects. Roy’s leg is taken out from underneath him.
The blast penetrates the kneecap, disintegrating it and the cartilage in a gruesome splattering of gore, cartilage and crimson. Roy drops to the ground, face first, screaming in excruciating pain.
Every movement sends shards of mind-numbing pain throughout his body. He looks for his pistol and sees it several feet away. As he crawls on his belly, his blood spurts from the severed artery. He cries out and searches for his fallen revolver.
As he is only a few feet from the revolver, he struggles to reach for it, but at the last second a pair of boots stomps down it and then picks it up.
Seconds later, the same boot stomps down on his hand. Roy yells. “Looking for this?” replies one of the deputies.
Roy looks up as darkness overtakes him. In the same second, the man fires into the back of his head, expelling his brain matter, blood, and bone through his face.
(3)
“Fuck him,” says Jebediah. “We need him alive. He ain’t gonna cooperate. I know it. I want you men to spread out. Let him try to make a run for it.”
“You sure?” asks Cort, a marshall from Cortez.
“Fuck yeah,” says Jebediah.
As expected, Talgath feigns cooperation. As soon as he is through the door, he fires his guns in rapid succession. His aim is less to be desired.
Talgath seems stupefied. He peers into the distance to see his pursuers. Still confused, Talgath runs along the wooden planks while keeping his gun out in front of him.
“Stop!” says a voice from high above on an adjacent roofline. Talgath looks towards that direction, intending to fire.
He hears another shot and then the stabbing pain courses through his leg and his entire body as he finds himself face down on the wooden planks. “What the fuck?” He reaches for his gun but comes up empty.
“Hold it right there!” commands an authoritative voice.
“Talgath Selenius, you’re under arrest,” says Jebediah. He take
s a pair of cuffs and shackles him. Jebediah and another deputy help Talgath to his feet.
“Fuck!” mutters Talgath.
“You get the rest of my boys?” asks Talgath.
Jebediah smiles. “You’re worth a helluva lot more alive. Them? A mere five hundred gold pence each. Dead or alive.”
“At least you got my position correct.”
Chapter 21: Aftermath
Talgath wrestles on his uncomfortable and moth-ridden cot, trying to sleep but to no avail. It is impossible, given the excruciating pain that courses through him. Around his cell, he observes the large rat that picks at his untouched piece of stale cornbread. As he rises, the room spins out of control and is too much for him.
He tilts his head to the side and vomits. With his insides empty, he lays his head back down on his pillow. He tries to push out the excruciating pain that shoots down his neck like a lightning bolt. The iron bars open and Shariff Jebediah appears before him.
Talgath only glimpsed the man who had taken out all his men, but now observes him completely. Jebediah is a tall man without the awkwardness that comes with such a body type. He is strong, lithe, flexible, and has the reflexes to match. Talgath watches as the man cleans his gun with the seasoned skill of a hired mercenary. In less than a minute, he has disengaged, disassembled, and cleaned his two twelve-shooters. And, in one seamless move, he throws his holster on.
He sports a well-oiled, curled mustache and a crop of thinning, silver hair. A stark contrast to his jet-black mustache. He smiles at Talgath in obvious derision. Jebediah extracts a piece of parchment paper and presents it to Talgath. Talgath ponders it with curiosity.
“This you?” asks Jebediah, knowing it is.
“The picture is a little unflattering, but yes, that is me.”
“This is the end of a long road for you, Talgath. You ken? In my time as shariff, I cannot remember when such a large bounty was offered for anyone. Two thousand gold pence offered for you if you’re still alive. Only one if you’re dead. Don’t matter none to me, so long as I can collect. If I must split it, it’s still more money than I would see in a decade of service for Kent.”
The Test of Ostra Page 14
