Guns & Smoke

by Lauren Sevier

  Murph let out an exasperated huff. He stared at Bonnie with incredulous eyes. I grabbed my drink and tipped it back, reveling in the burn of the whiskey as it ran down my throat. What a day. My brother reached over, snatching the poster out of my hand.

  “What’s domestic terrorism?” Harry asked.

  “It’s what you get for being a smartass with a gun,” Murph said, staring pointedly at Bonnie. She rolled her eyes and poured me another drink.

  “Jealous, Murph?” she asked, smirking at the man.

  “Do you know what this means? Not just for you, but for Beck’s safety,” he said. “If he finds her—” The man’s voice broke suddenly. Tension filled the air, snapping tight between them. I dared to glance at Bonnie; she glared at Murph.

  “If who finds her?” I asked.

  “None of your fuckin’ business,” Bonnie said. Her shoulders relaxed and she leaned against the front edge of the bar, her eyes softening as she looked at Murph. “Nothing’s gonna happen to her.”

  “Yeah, except you’re gonna break her heart,” Murph said harshly. Then, as if realizing his tone, he lowered his eyes.

  “She knew I was gonna have to leave. It just has to be sooner than we thought,” she said, running a finger over the lip of her glass. The man looked at me. I ignored him, instead focusing intently on my whiskey.

  “Of all the guys you’ve brought back here, they never had a kid with them before. What’s up with that?” Murph’s eyes shifted to my brother.

  “Just go get the fucking stew!” Bonnie’s cheeks flushed. I lifted my glass to my lips to busy my hands as he walked away. Of all the guys. Was I just the latest in a string of cons? We sat in silence for a moment before she turned to me. The intensity of her gaze made the hair on the back of my neck tingle. I took my time to sip the whiskey. She still stared at me as I lowered the glass to the bar. I turned to her.

  “What?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow. My eyes fell to Bonnie’s bottom lip, which she worried between her teeth. I wanted to taste that lip. I blinked, forcing the desire back yet again.

  “So, Jesse, from some distant farm who doesn’t know how to take the safety off when he’s threatening someone with their own gun, where ya headin’?” she asked. Her blue eyes brightened as she poured another finger of whiskey into my glass.

  “Why do you care?” I asked before knocking back my drink. I stared back at her intense gaze. After a moment, she gave an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through her dark hair. I imagined running my fingers through the long strands again.

  “I’m just tryin’ to figure you out,” she said.

  “Why?” I asked. At the same time, a woman walked out from behind the bar. She was shorter than my brother. Her long, straight black hair grayed at her temples. Lines around her eyes and mouth revealed her age. She fussed over Harry in a language I didn’t recognize. Then she turned to Bonnie and took the younger woman’s face in her hands.

  “C’mon, Beck,” Bonnie said, shaking her off half-heartedly.

  “I saw the posters. I know Murph worries, but we can keep you hidden—”

  “No. Absolutely not,” she said, shaking her head. Beck’s eyes glistened as she looked over Bonnie’s face. I felt like I shouldn’t be a part of this conversation, as though it were a tender moment not meant for my prying eyes.

  “Please, Little Wolf,” Beck said, putting her hands on Bonnie’s arms. “Let me do this for you. After everything you did for me—”

  “I’m not anyone’s hero,” Bonnie said sharply, cutting her off. She pulled out of the older woman’s grip. “You wanna pay me back? Don’t get caught. Or if you do, make sure Murph blows his fucking face off.” Her eyes slid to me and she settled back on her stool. I watched Beck disappear behind the bar. Bonnie’s eyes felt like daggers as she once again stared at me.

  “Enlighten me, then,” I said after a long moment, reaching across her for the whiskey bottle. My arm brushed against her breasts as I brought it in front of me. My head was already light from the drink. The scrutiny of her gaze made me nervous. I refilled my glass and topped hers off. Then I set the bottle down and stared straight back at her. “What have you figured out about me?”

  “Farm boy,” she said, her blue eyes piercing into the depths of me. I bristled at boy. She seemed quite fond of the word. “That’s obvious by the calluses on your hands and the way your tan ends at your shoulders. You spend long hours outside.” She paused to glance at my brother before looking back to me. “You’ve been on the road now for months, judging from the state of your boots. You didn’t leave with much, and you’ve been giving up what little food you’ve been able to scavenge to the kid. Your jeans are a little too loose.” The memory of her hands running along the front of my jeans made me shift uncomfortably on my stool. No woman had ever affected me like this before.

  “One of your canteens has a leak,” she continued. “Your chapped lips are a dead giveaway.” Bonnie’s gaze fell to my mouth. Tension snapped tight between us. “I make my living sizing people up. Assumptions have kept me alive so far. It’s not personal.”

  I snorted derisively. “Sure seemed personal in that alleyway,” I said. It’d be a lie if I didn’t acknowledge that she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. My anger at her wasn’t just about being robbed. It was that she used her beauty to play me like an instrument. I’d fallen right into her trap, all because of her pretty face. “Doesn’t seem much like living to me.”

  “It’s not. It’s surviving. And I’m good at it,” she said.

  “Could have fooled me,” I remarked. She turned on her stool to face me fully.

  “Look, I’m no angel, and I don’t pretend to be. I’ll do whatever it takes so I don’t end up in the ground like my mom,” she said.

  It seemed we had something in common. I knew what it was like having dead parents.

  My eyes trailed from the anger written on her face down the curve of her cheek and past her lips. Her thin shirt accentuated her soft curves and breasts. A spot of red dotted the hem of it. Suspected in no less than three murders. I opened my mouth to ask her about it, but my brother cut me off.

  “This is really good,” Harry said. Bonnie’s features softened as she turned to face him.

  “Beck’s a good cook,” she said, reaching over to ruffle his hair.

  “What’s in it anyway?” I asked. I’d learned how hard meat was to come by during our travels. We were luckier than most back home because we raised our own livestock. Bonnie snorted into her glass.

  “Whatever Beck could catch this morning,” she said, amusement in her eyes.

  “Why’re you helping us?” Harry asked through a mouthful of stew.

  “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a pretty face, handsome,” Bonnie said. If that were true, she wouldn’t have pulled a gun on me in that alleyway. I scowled into my glass. “How old are you anyway, kid?”

  “Ten,” Harry said with a sheepish grin. She ruffled his hair again. Then she turned to me and leaned close.

  “Look,” she said. Heat radiated off of her. “I just wanted to get the kid off the strip. You’re not from here, and it’s a dangerous place. Not everyone has someone looking out for them.” Her breath was hot on my cheek. A shiver went up my spine as desire flared to life in my belly once more. I balled my hand into a fist at my side to stop myself from doing something stupid.

  “I’m not sure I want a murderer looking out for us,” I said, turning my attention to the bloodstain on the hem of her shirt. “I’m guessing you’re responsible for no less than four as of today.”

  Bonnie looked down, pulling at her shirt to see the spot. I caught a glimpse of the smooth skin of her stomach. I swallowed around the lump in my throat, then took a deep pull from my glass.

  “That Crimson Fist motherfucker ruined two of my favorite shirts today!” Bonnie groaned and stood. Her arm brushed against mine. She smirked, then leaned close. “For the record, it was nice robbing you, farm boy.” Then she pressed her lips to my
cheek. I felt the softness and heat of them as she stalked away. Her hips swayed as she moved behind the bar. Instead of disappearing as Murph had, she climbed a ladder into a small loft just out of sight.

  Harry belched, setting down his glass of water. His eyes were full of amusement when I looked at him. We needed to go. Before I did something stupid. I knocked back the rest of my whiskey.

  “Are you ready?” I asked Harry, slipping onto Bonnie’s barstool. My vision blurred around the edges as I tried to focus on him.

  “What about her?” he asked, glancing toward the ladder behind the bar.

  “She’s not coming. Just us,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “She’s trouble,” I bristled. He looked up at me with sadness in his eyes. I hadn’t realized how dark my tone was. I should apologize. Bonnie had clawed her way beneath my skin, and he was taking the brunt of my frustration.

  “I like her. She knows her way around. She could help us find Mom and Pop,” he said. A rush of guilt flooded my chest at the hope in his voice. The whiskey on my tongue soured.

  “What happened to bro-time?”I asked, forcing a smile. “You and me, the great outdoors—”

  “I’d like to be able to eat every day,” he said. Ouch. Even though his word’s weren’t malicious, having a ten-year-old point out your flaws felt like a hot knife to the balls. I stared at the gnarled surface of the bar, trying to force my insecurities back down. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. I glanced around the room, watching as a man shuffled a deck of cards. My hands flexed on the bar in front of me.

  Then, like an idiot, I looked toward the loft. Bonnie. Her bare back faced me. Long, thin marks crisscrossed the right side of her ribs. I couldn’t tell if it was a tattoo or something else, something worse. She slid on another shirt, this one less revealing, then disappeared just beyond my line of vision.

  The low din of conversation ceased suddenly. The bell at the door rang. Men who’d been talking in boisterous voices went silent. A single mug thudded on a wooden table. Bonnie came into view once more, just around the edge of the loft wall. Her eyes widened and her shoulders tensed. Fear. She disappeared again as loud stomps followed by the telltale jingle of boot spurs approached.

  A young man dressed in a black vest and white shirt appeared behind the bar. The newcomer stopped beside me. He towered as he looked down at me over a pair of dusty aviator sunglasses. He was a beefy man, with tan skin and an ugly scar that crossed over one eye. He had a crooked nose, as though he’d been in one too many bar fights. He tipped his black cowboy hat back as the bartender poured him a shot.

  “You ain’t seen this girl ‘round here, have you?” the man asked, unfolding a wanted poster identical to the one on the bar next to Harry. The page was creased, as though he’d folded and unfolded it a hundred times. I took a modest sip of whiskey before meeting his gaze again. Something about him unnerved me, as though danger radiated from the man in waves. The fear I’d seen in Bonnie’s eyes told me that she knew him.

  “Depends. How accurate is this drawing?” I asked, pointing to the picture of Bonnie.

  “Mostly right. Her eyes are blue, and she’s got a large scar on her left arm,” he said, lips curling sadistically. He ordered another shot and knocked it back. I caught sight of a tattoo on his neck, a pointed flower in the place where others had red fists.

  “How old is she?” I asked. The man regarded me for a moment.

  “Best guess... nineteen. Who’s the kid?” he asked. I glanced at Harry, whose skin was pale. He sat ramrod straight on his barstool. I leaned forward, blocking the man’s view.

  “Some stray I picked up on the street. Kid was hungry,” I lied.

  “Well, ain’t you a just a goddamn bleedin’ heart?” he asked, sarcasm heavy on his tongue. I chuckled. The sound rumbled deep in my chest as I thought of Bonnie. It would be easy to turn her over to him. Five hundred silver bits was a lot of money. The purse Mom had given us was lighter than when we left Montana. Turning her over might help my ruined pride. I glanced back to the loft.

  Bonnie peered around the wall, her fingertips barely visible. Her eyes were wide. I imagined hearing her pretty voice begging me not to do it. I turned my attention back to my drink.

  “What are you going to do with the money when you catch her?” I asked.

  “Money? Nah. I’m gonna show her exactly what happens when a woman disobeys,” he said. His mouth curled into a sadistic grin.

  I knew enough to understand men like him. No one, not even a murderer and thief, deserved to be raped.

  “You know, I think I saw her,” I said. He turned his attention to me, eyes narrowing in suspicion. A small crash sounded from Bonnie’s direction. The man’s eyes flickered toward the sound.

  “Had a small handgun. A .22?” I asked, stealing his attention back.

  “That’s right. Boss is wantin’ that gun back. Who’re you?”

  “Jesse. This .22, did it have an ivory handle?”

  “If there’s somethin’ you ain’t telling me—” he said.

  “Oh no,” I said, chuckling beneath my breath. “I saw her preoccupied with some man in an alleyway earlier.” The dark expression on the man’s face twisted into something wild and feral.

  “Preoccupied?” he asked.

  “They were... close,” I said, cocking my head toward my brother, as if to say I didn’t want to go into detail with him next to me.

  “What’d he look like?” the man’s fingers twitched toward the holster on his belt. I shrugged, taking a casual sip of my drink. I gripped the glass tight to keep the man from seeing my hands shake.

  “Young guy, lanky, maybe six feet tall? One look at him and you could tell he wasn’t a local,” I said. “I heard her say something to him though. Something about going north, maybe? I was too busy getting ripped off by a whore on the corner.” I shrugged, purposefully looking away to signal the end of the conversation.

  “I’ll check with the boss,” the man murmured. He knocked back the shot and threw a roughly cut brass bit on the counter. He turned to me, sticking out a hand. I considered the action for a moment. I took it. He gripped my hand hard, making me cringe and bite back a cry of pain. He pulled me menacingly close, his rancid breath on my face.

  “Most people call me Sixgun,” he said.

  I didn’t expect to be threatened by a gun twice today.

  Chapter Three - Bonnie

  Most people call me Sixgun.

  No, they didn’t. Most people called him a monster. Evil hides behind normal faces. Sixgun Ellis’s face might be ugly and old, but lurking somewhere within the dark recess of his fucked up mind was the kind of evil that left you defenseless against it.

  He was here to bring me back.

  I’d like to say I was afraid, because being afraid meant my mind was focused on survival. I was numb, as if the inevitable dread of this moment had marinated in my bones. In my mind’s eye I saw it all clearly, each move and counter move. Jesse, the man I robbed and humiliated, would stretch out this tentative safety just long enough for me to think I’d get away. Then, inevitably, the lure of money and vengeance would have him call Sixgun back. Then that monster would drag me out of this loft and make me pray for death.

  I contemplated the gun in my hand. Quick, efficient, easy. It would be so easy to pull the trigger and deny Sixgun his prey. I closed my eyes, back pressed firmly against the wall that kept me out of sight, Selene white-knuckled in my fist.

  “You wouldn’t be lyin’ to me would ya?” Sixgun asked menacingly. Here it was, the moment of truth, when an unassuming farm boy showed his true colors. I took a steadying breath and put the barrel of the gun in my mouth, the tang of metal on my tongue.

  “Not sure why I would. Just walk a few blocks down towards the well. I’m sure there are others who saw her. She wasn’t exactly subtle, if you know what I mean.” Jesse’s lie was easy and confident. My eyes opened at his words.

  He lied for me.

  I peered around the cor
ner to stare down at him from my hiding place. I drank in every detail. His shoulders were relaxed, his expression casually disinterested. He was a world class liar, no hint of deception to be found. Sixgun must’ve thought the same; he grunted in acknowledgement and turned back to the liquor in front of him.

  “I don’t like liars; you better not be one,” Sixgun threatened. Jesse’s stare hardened in the outlaw’s direction, his jaw set firmly.

  “Duly noted,” he said before Sixgun shoved off from the bar and sauntered out, the noise returning in a riot of sound the moment the door clanged shut.

  My mind buzzed as I looked down at the gun still in my hand. He lied for me. Flicking the safety on, I grabbed my pack and a few things from my makeshift room in the loft before swinging my legs out and dropping heavily onto the floor. I was alive, because he lied for me.

  I couldn’t seem to grasp the idea that a stranger I’d robbed made the decision to save my life. Fear barreled into me as the shock receded. We had to get the fuck out of here. Now.

  My pulse pounded hot at my neck and in my ears. There was no time for hesitation. Springing into action, I marched towards Jesse and the kid, reluctantly nodding in appreciation as I slammed my fist on the bar twice. My signal to Murph that Sixgun was gone.

  I shoved Selene into Jesse’s hand and jerked my head to the side, a clear indication that he was supposed to follow me. He stood there dumbly for a moment before getting the hint and scrambling after me as I crossed behind the bar and around a corner.

  “Stay here for a second,” I said quickly. I climbed the short ladder to my room, reaching into the small crawl space where I’d been sleeping and pulling down my bedding. It was thin but mostly intact, and I rolled it quickly, tying it down to my pack.