Chapter Text
“Shit!” Colm slammed at the table as his knife cut his hand again.
It was the third round since he challenged Tony in a duel of five-finger fillet bursting with confidence, which later began draining through every drop of blood from his wounds.
Watching Tony’s turns wasn’t making it any better. Without a flinch, his opponent played with his knife as if it was a child’s wooden toy, while he made a complete fool out of O’Driscoll.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, feller, but your knife skills ain’t quite the… sharpest,” Tony said deadpan, while Ben behind him couldn’t help but snort.
“We’ll see about that when I get to scalp your fucking head.” Colm stood up from the table in defeat, looking spitefully at his bleeding fingers. They began to sting even more after he had no longer been focusing on the game.
“Oh sorry, pal, I couldn’t hear what you muttered. Wanna say it to my face?!” Tony jumped from his seat but abruptly stopped when he noticed Cliff walking towards them. A smaller stack of papers was clutched together between his two fingers, which meant only one thing: he was looking for a companion. And judging by the look on his face, he already found one.
“I see you’re bursting with energy today, Colm. If you want to show your natural talent in threatening people this badly, I got the perfect job.” Cliff approached O’Driscoll, who managed to slip his wounded hand into his duster coat’s pocket before it caught unwanted eyes. His ego, which was already smashed into the ground by Tony and Ben, needed no further bruises.
“The hell you want?”
“More like who I want. You’re coming with me.”
“Ohohoo O’Driscoll! You just hit jackpot!” Tony walked beside the taller man as his smile turned into an evil grin. “A trip with Sir Clifford the Stern! Sounds like the treatment you just need.”
“Shut up, you dwarf! Augh- HEY!” Colm hissed in retaliation, grabbing at his hair as Cliff pulled it from behind.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Cliff said as he let go of him.
“You better forget I’m stepping out of this room.” O’Driscoll turned and gave the older man a furious glare, scratching the aching back of his head.
“And you’re a fool to think I’m giving you a mere offer you can either turn down or accept.” Despite not being raised, Cliff’s sharp voice both reminded and warned the younger one that he was talking to his superior.
An unpleasant feeling crawled into O’Driscoll's stomach with this realization.
Cliff Greene. The most exasperating of them all in his eyes. Not only did the man set his rules the first time they’d met, he hadn’t spent a day without demonstrating it. If it weren’t for Cliff’s ascendancy and reputation in the gang, O’Driscoll would’ve considered dealing with him the same way he did with others, which meant not listening to their orders.
But in his current position, he didn’t dare to rebel. The words stuck at the tip of his tongue boiled his anger even more. Giving in to Cliff’s unspoken orders, he decided to head for the front door to prepare his horse.
“Where are you fellers headed?” Tony then asked, shamelessly keeping the amused smile Colm’s visible irritation got out of him.
“East, towards the Grizzlies. There are two debtors whose payment is due this week, who live in the area…” Cliff searched through the papers in his hand, “Flinn McLaughlin and Nate Jenkins-”
“Ole Jenkins again?” Tony raised an eyebrow, “I thought he was on his way to becoming clean.”
“Last time we’ve been there, he sure didn’t seem like becomin’ clean,” Ben mumbled as he knelt and tried to reorganize the supplies upon noticing the shelf was about to snap under their weight. “That’s why he begged us to lend him money again, promisin’ how he’ll change and convince his family to come back to him. Don’t you remember, Ton’?”
“Well, excuse my ass for not remembering every bald guy’s sappy reasons to ask for coin,” Tony defended himself, “I know at least three dudes who look exactly like him, and all three of them happen to be drunkards!”
“Alright, alright, you two.” Cliff intervened and firmly held Tony back by the shoulder to emphasize his point. “Just give me the ledger and quit the squabbling.”
“We were just having a friendly conversation here, Cliff, look how unfazed Ben is!” Tony explained as he gestured at Ben who nodded to confirm, wearing the most peaceful expression.
Cliff just sighed in response and took the ledger Ben held out to him.
“Well then, we’re off. Look after the place while we’re away.” He shared a knowing look with the other two.
“Will do,” Tony nodded, “good luck with the debt collecting! You fellers might need it.”
“We might,” Cliff agreed before he left the cabin.
Meanwhile, O’Driscoll finished his preparations and gave a few pats to his horse Doyle after he adjusted the saddle, which got a little loose the last time they’d set out for scouting reasons. The young Clydesdale appreciated his companion’s presence and pats of affection, as he let out a contented snort.
“There, feller,” Colm murmured, lowering his voice as he heard Cliff’s approaching footsteps from behind.
It didn’t take long for Cliff to get Enid, not a single minute had passed and he was already on the piebald mare’s back, waiting by the camp’s gate for O’Driscoll to join him.
“What are we doing anyway?” Colm asked as he mounted Doyle too.
“Debt collecting.”
“Thought collecting debt wasn't some kind of a two-man job.”
“It isn’t necessarily a two-man job, for old-timers at least. But concerning you, there’s plenty of room for improvement,” Cliff replied while he put his rider gloves on, “and having someone to watch your back on any kind of job is quite practical, considering the life we outlaws lead.”
“Huh, I see. So all I need is being babied around now, everywhere I go?” Colm barked, seemingly annoyed by the older one’s monologue.
“I said no such thing. I suggest that if you plan on taking the path of outlaws until your last seconds in this world, you better see every bit of what we do. Especially if you want to organize your own people to do so one day.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Watch and learn is what I meant. Or else the aspiring leader will make a lot of mistakes.” Cliff ended the conversation and urged his mount to a trot.
Colm tensed up in his saddle with a flushing face as Cliff’s words got through to him, now stunned and at a loss for words for saying anything else. Fuming to himself, he followed the older man a few paces behind.
The first hours of the ride passed with only a few other words spoken between the two outlaws. Colm’s head was spinning with thoughts that he would’ve rather not bothered himself with if it weren’t for Cliff’s lecture. He wasn’t one to be watched over like a damn kid, yet he felt like everyone kept treating him as such. And just because Cliff had outlived more winters than him, how exactly did he have the right to shut him up like that?
They only stopped when it was necessary. One of these occasions was when they decided to accept Mother Nature’s generous offer and have their horses drink some fresh, cold water from a river nearby.
Colm remained close to his horse and took the chance to stretch his aching back. Hours spent with nothing but riding on horseback began to show their effect on him.
Despite all that, O’Driscoll couldn’t complain about the gentle breeze caressing his face. It wrapped around the river and its surrounding area with cold gusts of wind that would put any traveler’s mind at ease. Standing there while taking in the scenery was something he found soul-soothing. Where did he hear that word?
This part of riding out was what could effectively calm him down. It would’ve been even better if he didn’t have to go with Cliff. He preferred Ben, who would ramble to him the least, and even Tony, despite him getting on his nerves all the time. On lucky days, they’d even stop at a saloon and invite him for a drink, which he began to long for all of a sudden.
Perhaps he found the pair’s company more tempting than Cliff’s or Jack’s, for that matter, because they were closer to him in age… that’s bullshit.
He disapprovingly kicked some rocks away with his boot, making his spur ring. Some hours ago he'd wished they were dead and now he was getting sentimental over their drinking habits. What nonsense.
“How far are we anyway?” he turned his head towards Cliff, who was standing under the shade of a tree nearby, as he leaned against its trunk with the ledger in his hands.
“From here, only a few miles until we reach McLaughlin’s ranch. Supposedly.” Cliff answered without glancing up at him.
The route Tony and Ben marked for them on the area’s map seemed legit, but in practice, it turned out they used a lot of old, now barely beaten sidetracks on the way which Cliff wasn’t familiar with.
“What is this trail marked here?” he looked at Ben in askance, once he took a glance at the map he’d been looking for.
“A quick ‘n safe one. If you wanna avoid towns and roads with bigger traffic, that is,” the Southerner explained.
However good Ben’s point was, Cliff would’ve rather not taken the risk of getting lost in the woods and wasting the whole day by returning to the proper route.
With simultaneous deep sighs, they decided it was high time they mounted their horses to continue their journey to McLaughlin’s farm.
The valley the river led them through eventually came to an end, with the landscape changing from shaded forests of pine to smaller, grassy hills and lowlands farther behind them. Squinting his eyes enough, Colm could see settlements in the far distance: farms with each having its corn fields. Americans seemed to have an obsession with that lately, he stated to himself.
And Mr. McLaughlin was one of those Americans, as it turned out, having an acre of corn right in front of his ranch, which he carefully fenced from the woodland to protect it from wildlife. In addition, his two fields served as the entrance to the property, a 14-feet wide path had been beaten between them to split them in half. The two outlaws entered through this way, slowing their horses down as they reached the middle of the property. There stood the debtor’s house along with another two fenced areas, the latter ones presumably made for poultry.
Cliff got off his horse and looked around, searching for McLaughlin, or at least a ranch hand who could lead them to him. All he could find was a scrawny boy, who was deep in trying to sweep off some dry leaves that the wind brought to the front porch.
“Hey, boy!” Cliff’s call made the kid turn his head towards him in an instant, eyes widened in confusion as if he wasn’t sure whether it was directed to him or someone else.
The two outlaws must have been quite an intimidating sight since the boy visibly tensed up after he got to take a proper look at them. Especially when he caught Colm’s indifferent frown while he was sitting on his correspondingly menacing horse.
“How can I help you mister?” the boy asked Cliff with a wavering voice, clutching the broom in his hands for support.
“We’re looking for Flinn McLaughlin. As far as I know, this ranch belongs to him.”
“It… it does! Are you lawmen?”
“No, we’re not lawmen,” Cliff assured him calmly, “we’ve merely come to collect his debt. He owes us money, you see.”
“I-I’m sorry mister, but my Pa ain’t home,” the boy explained between two side glances at the cornfield, “I’m afraid he won’t be back till sunset.”
“That’s a shame since we don’t have time to wait further. Your father had a strict deadline to pay us back and he knew that well when he-”
“Now what the devil are you lot doin’ here on our property?” Cliff stopped mid-sentence when he heard the dry question from behind.
A young woman was standing next to the cornfield, firmly gripping the handle of the hoe she was carrying on her shoulder. Judging by her features, she must’ve been the boy’s sister. In contrast to him, however, she wore a fierce look on her face as she walked up to the visitors.
“You ain’t got no business harassin’ my brother like that.” she pointed at Cliff with the tool.
That was when Colm, who’d been sitting in boredom till now, jumped off his horse too and blocked the girl’s way.
“Oh, damn right we do. ‘Cause you all won’t pay us back!” He wanted to tower over the girl as a means of threat, but only then did he realize that the girl was just about his height. He could only double-blink in his confusion.
“You wouldn’t believe how many ways of paying back there are, mole.” the young woman shoved Colm out of the way and stepped to the other two. “What do you want?” she asked Cliff, looking the outlaw up and down with honest suspicion in her eyes.
“As I’ve told your brother here, your father owes us money. We were expecting to meet him here, but it seems like that’s not going to happen now.”
“You moneylenders ain’t familiar. I only know a freckled guy and his short friend.”
“That must’ve been Ben and Tony, they are our associates. And just like Mr. McLaughlin, neither of them could come, so the matter is left for us to resolve, miss. Once the debt is recovered, we go our separate ways with no harm done.”
Hearing those reasons, the girl’s frown eventually faded, but a dubious glint in her eyes remained.
“That do-gooder old man…” she sighed to herself and put the hoe down against the porch’s staircase. “Alright, I’ll see what I can do for ya. Under one condition.”
Cliff raised his eyebrows with curiosity.
“The mole stays outside. I’m only willing to talk business with you.” the girl stated as she spared an annoyed glance at Colm, who returned the gesture at once.
“Well then, as you wish. Lead the way.” Cliff nodded and followed the girl who already started walking up the stairs that led to the house.
“If he does anything nasty, you shout.” The girl put a hand on her brother’s shoulder with a hushed voice before she escorted Cliff in.
With the door closing, an uneasy silence fell on the two remaining outside. Only Colm’s huff could be heard and the creaking of wood as he sat down on the porch.
So what was Cliff talking about seeing every bit of the outlaws’ life again? Colm could sure see the debt collecting now, locked all outside with this pimp. At this rate, his superior could’ve simply just gone alone.
Not knowing what to do with himself, the boy leaned against the wooden pillar with his side too, still holding the broom in one hand. He kept casting curious glances at the bored outlaw, who completely ignored him on the contrary.
O’Driscoll got distracted by Doyle when the horse walked closer to the porch, expecting to get some pats on the muzzle from his owner.
“That’s a fine-lookin’ horse ya got there,” the boy began the small talk as Doyle caught his attention too. “How much was it?”
“Dunno. Stole him from a feller who didn’t bother telling me the price.” Colm casually replied as he let go of the horse’s head.
“Ah- I… see.” The boy adjusted his suspender to ease his discomfort.
And that was enough for O’Driscoll to cut the conversation short. At least that was what he thought. In truth, he felt ridiculously awkward all of a sudden, having to talk to some debtor’s son while waiting for his superior to recollect the money they’d ridden literal miles for. He wasn’t usually one to converse with people he met on jobs unless it was necessary, and this time was anything but like that. Now he felt like he was nearly forced to spend time with someone with whom he had nothing in common. Why did he even tell a law-abiding ranch hand that Doyle’s a stolen horse? He could’ve just lied.
But the boy didn’t seem to give up that easily.
“I was wonderin’ ‘cause that one ain’t from around these parts.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a Clydesdale horse. My Pa talked about them back when we were using one for them wagons. He told me they were brought in somewhere in the 40s all the way from Scotland. They were decent, they could pull a ton and work hard too. But then Pa decided to change ours for a Belgian draft horse, so we use those now.”
“Why would you change it? This horse is bigger than a Belgian one.”
“That’s true, but our Clydesdale wasn’t easy to be disciplined. Pa preferred a sturdy and loyal horse that needed little effort to be bound to work, that’s why he changed for the Belgian. So did other ranchers, Clydesdales never became the draft horses they wanted them to be on the Frontier. More likely that is what happened to your horse too, he just… wasn’t needed anymore.”
Colm’s eyes widened as realization hit him hearing those words. Looking at Doyle, he suddenly saw the reason behind the horse appreciating his company so much. He was the only one it had in the first place, in a world that needed neither of them.
“Just like your good old brother, am I right?” the sound of a smug chuckle flashed into his mind.
That was enough thinking. Colm slapped his thigh and stood up from the porch, all to the boy’s surprise, who had no idea what went through inside O'Driscoll's head just now.
“Wait, where are ya going?” he asked with curiosity, following O’Driscoll with his gaze who started walking down the steps towards his horse.
“Need a cigarette,” Colm replied as he opened his saddlebag and looked for his pack of cigarettes, almost as if he was in a great hurry. Much to his relief, he still had one in the corner of its container — the true definition of a lucky cig.
“Hey- wait! You can’t smoke that here!” The boy ran off from the porch too as he saw Colm walking towards the barn now. “You’re gonna light all those stacks of hay on fire!”
“Come on, I’m not gonna throw it directly at the barn.” Colm scoffed and turned around to face him.
“No! You don’t get it, my sister will bite my head off if she sees you doing that! A-a-and yours too!”
“What’s she gonna do? Beat me up with her hoe?” Colm spread his arms out, visibly annoyed now.
“She’ll kick your ass! Or worse,” the frightened boy lowered his voice, “she’ll kick you between your-”
“Piss off!” losing his temper, O’Driscoll shooed the boy away with a wave of his hand, “Ain’t no one’s gonna stop me from smoking this damn cigarette!”
The boy’s face grew even paler than it was before, with the sudden shock making his mouth remain open. Seeing the boy’s expression, Colm thought he successfully scared him, but only then did he realize that the kid wasn’t looking at him. To be precise, he was looking at something behind him.
And that something was none other than a grown bull weighing at least a ton, which didn’t seem to be pleased by Colm's previous, wild gestures in the slightest. It was threateningly tossing its head as it walked out of the woods, towards the boys.
“I n-need you to stop wavin’ around.” the boy tried to warn O’Driscoll as much as his trembling voice would let him.
The sound of hooves heavily stomping at the ground made Colm slowly look behind his back too. Now it was his turn to drop his jaw and freeze on the spot.
“...eh?” was all he could whine in his vulnerable state before the bull let out a guttural bellow and started charging straight at him.
Without a thought, Colm turned on his heels and made a run for it, the only problem was that he didn’t have a single clue where to flee. With panic taking over his entire body like suffocating chains, he darted his eyes around to find an escape route.
Doyle? The horse wouldn’t be able to react fast even if he reached him before the bull, it would only make a bone-breaking collision.
The cornfield? It’s too far away, he wouldn’t make it!
The barn?! Both doors of it are latched!
The well beside the barn! That’s it! REACH THE WELL!!
The bull lowered its head while it was running, with horns pointed straight at his target’s back. A few seconds and Colm will be thrown in the air.
Fighting against that fate, O’Driscoll brought his pace to the quickest sprint he’d ever used his legs for and ran towards the well.
Only then did he realize in shock that throwing himself in the well is just as dangerous as being thrown in the air, but it was too late to stop now. He chose to jump.
Tightening his grip on the well’s edge while hopping over it, Colm managed to prevent himself from falling into the waterhole. After bumping against the stone wall of its inner side, he remained to cling onto the rim for dear life. He cursed at the stinging cuts on his fingers as he tried to calm his rapidly beating heart down.
He felt the bull bumping against the well as it came to an abrupt stop in front of it, having lost sight of his target. After a moment of confusion, the animal turned around and ran in a different direction. The boy seemed to attract the animal’s attention and judging by the sound of a scream and a loud whack O’Driscoll heard, the bull’s rage was forced to an end.
Meanwhile, the boy, who ended up breaking his broomstick on the bull’s head, was now trying to hold the stunned animal by the ring in its muzzle, repeating the word ‘easy’ with a pained expression on his face as he looked for wounds he might have caused.
“What’s going on out here?” with the door bursting wide open, the girl ran out of the house upon hearing the commotion.
“Raisin’s gone mad!” the boy replied, still holding the bull. “He chased the feller over there to the well!”
“Well?” Cliff asked as he joined them, but his confusion soon faded as he noticed O’Driscoll’s hands still clinging onto the well’s brim.
“Oh, that bastard-” he cursed under his breath and hurried to the well, “Colm!”
The girl followed suit and ran to help too, and the two of them pulled the miserable young man out of the waterhole before he would’ve lost his grip.
“Fuck- get your hands off of me!” Colm knocked the others’ hands holding his arms away and went to find a place to sit down, which he needed more than anything now after all the toil life brought on him in the past 10 minutes.
O’Driscoll was once again sitting on the porch, at the same spot he left a while ago to light his cigarette. Which he hadn’t done ever since then. The mood for that completely faded now, as his hands were still slightly trembling to hold, let alone have anything clutched between his fingers.
His fuming made him unaware of Cliff’s presence, who was standing next to him as he leaned against the porch’s wooden pillar with his shoulder, looking at the siblings who were watching over Raisin by the chicken coops.
The girl was scolding her brother, who nearly became half his size as he was sitting on a bench all turtled up in his shame, with the two halves of the broken broom still in his hands. Meanwhile, Raisin was nibbling at a green patch of clovers near the fence, already having the boy’s blow on his head forgotten.
“Seems like that broom won’t be of any more use,” Cliff thought aloud and turned to O’Driscoll. “And you? Are you still in one piece?”
“Shut up,” came the quick, habitual reply.
“My friendliest suggestion is that you should be grateful for this once. All that could’ve gone differently with the bull and the well, you know.”
“What, want me to thank you?” Colm narrowed his eyes as he glared up at the older outlaw.
“To those who lent you a hand without hesitation, despite what threat you might’ve meant to them.” Cliff gestured at the siblings.
“Psh, like they want my gratitude.” O’Driscoll scoffed before lifting his leg on the other to light a match with his spur. He gathered the strength to smoke that godforsaken cigarette.
“Keep that cigarette for better times.” Cliff interrupted him before he could light it and took something out of his satchel. “Here, have this one instead.”
A metal can landed in O’Driscoll’s lap, which he picked up with a puzzled look. It was unusually lightweight as he lifted it. Only then did he notice that the can’s lid was opened a little.
“Seriously? An empty can of corn?” He showed the can to Cliff with a discontented frown.
“I wouldn’t call it that.”
Only then did Colm see that there was something inside the container, a white material of cloth. Bandage?
It all clicked together at once as he took the bandage out and held it in between his cut hands. The wounds he’d been trying to hide as if he was afraid of being ridiculed.
“When did you-?!” He choked on his words as he looked at the older outlaw again, who was already walking down the stairs as if nothing had happened.
“Back at camp,” Cliff turned his head back at O’Driscoll casually, “it was easier than you’d think. Now let us go, there’s another debt to collect.”
Colm only scoffed in his disbelief as he got up and headed to his horse, while Cliff went to exchange a few final words with the siblings.
After a few adjustments, the two outlaws left the ranch and took the northeastern trail leading to the mountains. With higher land came lower temperatures, making the local flora appear in tall-growing patches of grass and other plants, which could survive with roots grown in the steep, rocky ground. All the vibrant colors of green that travelers’ eyes got used to while roaming the Heartlands soon began to fade, as the vegetation adjusted to the infertile soil.
Although Colm couldn’t care less. He was busy trying to tighten the bandage around his hand, which kept bothering him from the moment he applied it. He should’ve just thrown it away, but that would’ve been a bad idea in the company of someone like Cliff.
The tracks they rode on became less and less familiar to O’Driscoll, and to his surprise, the same thing could’ve been said about his superior. He noticed that Cliff took the ledger out more often than not as if he wasn’t sure whether they were going the right way. Seems like even those who know their way around maps can get puzzled by barely used tracks.
“Are we lost?” He asked Cliff, eventually getting bored of the unsure trotting.
“We aren’t. I’m wondering whether this doodle on the map is trying to indicate the location of Jenkins’s cabin or Tony simply felt like the funniest person alive.” Cliff explained, looking at the simplified drawing of a house and a chicken beside it, while Colm wandered off in the meantime further down the road.
“You talking about that cabin up there?” O’Driscoll turned back to Cliff, pointing at the roof he just noticed between the trees.
“I… have no idea. Let’s check.”
Colm’s guess turned out to be true, as they got closer to the house and took a proper look at it. The beat-up spruce cabin was standing alone by the hillside, under the shades of the trees that barely let any light reach the windows. Beside it was a small, clumsily fenced area with a chicken coop at the corner, which would’ve made Tony's drawing accurate, if only there were any chickens in it. Only leftover seeds and scattered bones served as a sign of them being once there.
If this Jenkins guy wanted his family to come back to a place like this, he had to try damn hard.
After they got off their horses, Cliff walked to the door while Colm wandered to the chicken coop to check if there had been any leftover eggs in it. To his disappointment, all the nests inside were empty.
“Mr. Jenkins!” Cliff gave three knocks on the locked door. “We’ve come for the debt!”
No answer came, nor any sign of movement from inside.
“Open up, Mr. Jenkins,” Cliff warned, “don’t make me do this the hard way!”
“Smash the window in,” Colm mumbled as he returned, already studying the house’s front window.
“And cut your other five fingers, sure. Out of the question.”
“Who the hell’s saying I’d do it with my fist-” Colm was about to argue, but Cliff hushed him with a lift of his finger. “What?”
“Don’t you find this house suspiciously quiet?”
“I mean, for a cabin in the middle of the woods… it’s more than ordinary. What did you expect?”
“Were there any chickens in the coop?”
“Nope, only bones.”
Only bones? Hold on a second…
“This man is anywhere else but home. Or even if he is, he clearly doesn’t want us here.” Cliff concluded, staring at the closed door with furrowed brows.
“So what’s the plan?” Colm asked as he walked closer to where Cliff was standing.
“We kick this door in. Care to do the honors?”
“With pleasure,” Colm smirked with excitement.
With O’Driscoll kicking the door open, the two outlaws stepped into the cabin, but the sight made both of them freeze in their place in an instant.
“Shit!” Cliff winced and covered his crinkled nose from the unbearable stench while Colm grabbed the door frame with widened eyes to support himself.
No nightmare of his could match the scene he witnessed at that moment. Ants were feasting on chunks of leftover bread, some already making their way to the cupboard in lines as they searched for more food. An open bottle of aged rum lay next to scattered papers, which soaked in the alcohol it spilled on them, dripping down from the dining table.
All next to the chair Mr. Jenkins’s still, headless corpse was sitting on.