The Butcher and the Butterfly (13 page)

Wilson stood back,
and he pulled the trigger twice more this time shooting out both of
Ellen’s elbows. Blood spurted and poured and the floor was awash
with it. Finally her screams came to an end as the pain heightened.
She had run out of breath to scream with and her body slumped in
the chair. With all the strength she could muster she lifted her
head and stared at the man holding the gun to her forehead.

‘I...Love you
John. For...all...your sins...I love –‘

Wilson pulled the
trigger one final time. Ellen’s head exploded as the bullet tore
through and splattered her skull and brain all over the fucking
place.

Just imagine my
little reader, imagine if you dare, that Bane, stood in the corner
like an admiring school boy, is far more dangerous than Wilson
could ever dream of. One day his story will be told.

9

Blue streams of
moonlight poured through the window as Stephen, dressed and ready
to go down to the bar, sat at the end of his bed. The voice of the
gun holstered comfortably on his right side burned into his skull –
it had tormented his few hours of sleep he had gotten and forced
him to wake.

Can’t stay here,
Stephen. I am hungry, she is hungry and we need to eat. You need to
kill

What do you expect
of me, Jonah? To walk down there and start shooting?’

It would have come
to that if it wasn’t for the brothers that are currently heading
out of town.

‘What brothers?’
Stephen stood and headed over to the window gazing at the full moon
that filled the sky. It was bright enough to hide the stars.

The Quints. They
have been up to no good, Stephen and need punishing.

Stephen was quiet.
He had no urge to kill, no need.

Yes you do,
Watchman! Yes you do. Don’t forget what will happen if I remain
quiet. Your future and the future of all the others teeter on you
now, Stephen. Would you risk that?

‘No.’

Then listen to me.
Hangman’s Hill is where they is at. You’ll have to run, much time
has already been lost. Be careful of them Stephen, the Quints are
ruthless and as sharp as knives.

‘I have to have a
reason, Jonah, I just can’t go around recklessly killing? I may
have changed from the man I once was, but I still have a conscience
of a sort.’

Jonah laughed and
it was loud enough for Stephen to fruitlessly grab at ears in an
attempt to silence the metallic killer.

Once day you will
look back at these days and laugh and wonder how stupid and weak
you once were. I know of your path, much like that old crow I have
witnessed you bump and grind through life, finally ending up here
with me at your hip. I am good for you, Stephen, trust in that. I
won’t see you come to any harm but you have to listen to me, follow
me, especially if you want to impress those that have trusted in
you.

Stephen moved away
from the window and looked into the mirror. ‘A reason, Jonah.’

The Deputies wife
has been killed, Watchman. The Quint brothers shot her to bits. Not
for the gold, though they will take that gladly, they did the dirty
deed all for John and Cathy. You saw them looking at each other.
You sensed it and I am confirming it. Her death will leave five
kids motherless, and fatherless when the will is read. Cathy and
John have been fucking like rabbits this past two years everyone
knows it apart from the wife.

Those three
brothers are deadly, Stephen. You would be doing the rest of the
world a great justice by wiping them off the face of the earth.

There was no
getting away from it, Stephen was as trapped as a fly in a spider’s
web. Part of him was distrustful, holding back from the urges that
he felt swelling inside of him like the coming of a great tide.
There was another part, the part of him that had pushed him through
the Watchman trials that was weak to such urges, weak to such base
desires. He could usually keep that at bay, but Jonah was
different, he was in their all the time, tapping on his head – even
the smallest hammer, given time, could destroy the biggest
rock.

The image of the
dead Clicker came to Stephen and it reminded him of how close he
had come to dying earlier today, it also reminded him of how much
of an asset Jonah could be for him. He just needed to set some
rules.

‘I will kill for
ya, Jonah, I shall pull your ancient trigger but in return please
be quiet. Only speak when I need you the most or I swear to all the
Gods that I shall throw you into the deepest darkest hole and bury
you there caring not for the outcome of any future. Do you
understand?’

Yes. Now, off to
the hill. I’m hungry!

10

Stephen grabbed
his light coat and raced from his room, down the stairs, out of the
bar and into the dark streets of Rockfall.

Back in the
travellers, hidden by the open door of the bathroom, stood a
confused Susie. She clutched tight the set of towels she had been
asked to fetch wondering who it was that Stephen had been talking
to. She daren’t open the door to his bedroom, even though she
didn’t hear a second voice she feared for what she might find in
there. Instead, she skittered into the bathroom and watched from
the window as Stephen made his way from the boardwalk, across the
dusty road and off in the direction of Hangman’s Hill.

It wasn’t too long
before Susie went after him. It was something that she would regret
doing, but only for a short while.

Morrie and a few
other patrons watch her leave and turned to face each other – their
faces alight with smiles. There was no one left to man the bar.

The Ones Needing
Luck

1

‘So it’s done
then?’ John scanned the three fire lit blank faces.

‘Course its fuckin
done, John. We aint a bunch of fuckin Runnies ya know!’

John ran his hands
though his hair. How he hated the Quint brothers. Hated them almost
to the point of doing something about it. Almost; but not quite. He
liked his life too much to act so foolishly.

‘Look, John, we
could stand here all fuckin night staring into each other’s eyes
like a couple of queers or you could hand over the money and we
could be well on our way. We have just committed a murder ya
know!’

The Deputy
swallowed hard and prayed to whatever God loved him still that the
Quint brothers would wait just a little while longer.

‘I have not got
the money. Cathy is bringing it with her and she must be running
late.’

Wilson closed his
eyes and took in a deep breath. Before he could insult the good
Deputy he heard footsteps coming up the hill.

‘Looks like you’ve
been saved, my dear John.’

In silence Cathy
walked up to John and kissed him upon the cheek. She handed him
four rather large bag of money and stood aside.

‘This money is for
a job well done and for staying the fuck out of this place for the
rest of yer days.’ John threw the bag of money and they hit the
floor hard. Wilson weighed them and then handed them to Boyd stood
on his right.

‘My pleasure,
Deputy. We will never darken your doorstep again. By the by, John,
your ex went screaming and cursing your name something rotten. Made
me regret not taking my time.’

Cathy lowered her
head and closed her eyes trying to block out what she was hearing.
Wilson couldn’t believe his luck.

‘Oh, so now the
deed is done you have regrets?’ Wilson spat a huge wad of phlegm
onto the floor, ‘Well it’s too fuckin late for that, now. Deed
done. Live with it! Now if ya don’t mind we will be on our way.
Good luck to ya John and Cathy, may the fates favour ya. You is
going to be needing it.’

2

Wilson turned and
came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

3

‘They aren’t the
ones needing luck, Wilson Quint.’

4

Wilson smiled at
the man facing him. He had to admire the bloke’s balls if nothing
else. Bane and Boyd turned on the spot and drew their six shooters
each pulling a bead on the lone gunman. Wilson raised his hands
gesturing them to lower their weapons. He wanted this cunt to
himself.

John and Cathy
stood petrified, both in total disbelief at what they were
seeing.

‘Well, well, well
the man they thought to be a Watchman has a pair. We are well
met?’

‘Shoot him in the
fuckin face, Wilson, kill the fucker NOW!’ Cathy spat, pointing at
Stephen.

‘Keep your woman
quiet, John, she aint got a clue what she is talking about.’

With a tug upon
her shoulder and a stabbing glare from John, they were the last
words she spoke to Wilson Quint.

Stephen spoke
calmly now. His voice unshaken and his gun not wavering. ‘We are
not well met, Wilson Quint. You are a thief and a murderer. Now put
down your weapons and place your hands in the air.’

Wilson smiled at
the little man come hero standing before him and knew that this man
was no match for him; nor his brothers.

‘Nope. They can
keep their guns raised and you can lower yours, traveller. You are
out manned and out gunned.’

Stephen smiled his
deathly cold smile at Wilson. ‘Always so sure of yerself aint ya
Wilson. Always so confident about your assumptions. Have you ever
been wrong?’

‘Never. And I aint
gonna be!’

Bane and Boyd’s
trigger fingers became itchy and Stephen sensed that time for small
talk was almost at an end. Before he could speak, Wilson butted
in.

‘Look mate, you
have a big set of balls and I admire that. A Watchman you aint and
never will be. I on the other hand am a ruthless son of a bitch who
murdered his own mother for a gold coin or two. I suggest that you
turn away now before I lose my fuckin temper. Leave now and live my
little friend.’

The three brothers
stood, the fire ablaze in their eyes and their target stood well
out in the open. It was obvious to see why they were so confident;
Stephen was one man they were three. In reality though, Stephen was
so much more.

Wilson lowered his
hand.

Before bane could
even think of pulling his trigger Stephen had side stepped to the
right, twisted and fired two rounds straight into Banes pumping
heart leaving the youngest brother dead as he fell. Boyd, now
standing roughly two meters from Stephen had a perfect shot into
the Watchman’s chest but Stephen, no sooner as he had fired the two
rounds into Banes chest began to run across the flummoxed Boyd and
around to the left side of him. Wilson fired off four shots; three
missing wildly and the fourth buzzing past Stephens’s ear. The
Watchman released another two slugs as he dived to the floor; one
went through Boyd’s upper leg; blood pissing into the air the
second went straight through his neck almost blowing his head clean
off. Boyd fell to the floor on a pool of dusty blood. His screams
were great almost monumental and then they were nothing. The
Watchman ran forward and scoped up the dropped gun that had been
Boyd’s and continued on. The elder brother backing away tracked the
run of the lone gunmen (still not really getting the fact that his
brothers were dead) and shot off two more shots. With a twist and a
turn Stephen dodged the bullets and Wilson backed away even more
quickly reloading just one bullet. By the time Stephen had come to
a dusty stop, aiming both guns at Wilson’s head, the killer had
managed to point his own gun at Stephens’s heart. So here they were
like two gunslingers of old. Stalemate. Rules as old as time
itself.

‘Wait just a
fuckin second.’ Wilson demanded and Stephen who had no intention on
firing took a step back and nodded.

‘What in Gods cunt
are you?’

Stephen remained
silent.

‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE
YOU! ANSWER ME!’

And still Stephen
said nothing.

With all the skill
he had Wilson fired off his single reloaded shot. The bullet tore
through the air heading straight for Stephens heart. As the bullet
went through the air Stephen fired his own gun and the two bullets
rammed against each other. Sparks flew and hot metal spluttered to
the ground. Wilson fell to his knees in shock.

‘I don’t give a
fuck who you are I’m still going to kill ya yer fuck! I’m going to
shoot yer fuckin eyes out ya cunt! Mark me!’

Wilson tried to
reload his gun but his shaking hands and the hot barrels made it
very hard. He began to tremble all over as the sweat and the shock
mixed with the cool night air.

He managed to load
two bullets. His hands still shook and his face was full of fury.
He now knew what this man was but he didn’t care. If he was going
to die then it would be firing his gun. He swung the weapon up to
the man stood not one foot in front of him but before the trigger
could be pulled Stephen kicked the gun from out of his hands.

Slowly Stephen
leant forward pushing one gun to the forehead of Wilson the other
digging into his chest just above the heart.

‘Time to die, Mr
Quint.’ A single gunshot echoed through the desert drumming out the
sound of skull and brain as it splashed against the hardpan.

5

As the smoke
cleared from the moonlit air, Stephen threw down the gun that his
left hand had scooped up and picked up the gun that he had kicked
out of Wilsons shaking hands. With a twist of the wrist the chamber
swung open and Stephen shook out the two remaining bullets. They
fell to the floor closely followed by the gun.

Without even
looking he addressed the two shuffling figures of Cathy and
John.

‘Don’t move. Don’t
speak. I am arresting you for conspiring to kill Ellen Drive and
then paying for her brutal murder. Don’t even think of running.
Mark me well! As much as I need to kill ya, I want you to face
justice. I want you to look your children on the eye.’

John slumped to
the floor looking at the three fallen brothers. Cathy quickly
followed. Neither of them considered running.