Hell for Leather

The outlaw band quickly moved away and Zeke could only watch. They were getting away. He had to move and move fast. If he waited, the bridge would be gone. It was probably already too burned to support him. The only other way was almost a day’s ride to the north. Zeke grit his teeth and set out across the burning bridge.

Zeke was also no fan of heights, but Alaine was in trouble and he pushed away all thoughts but her. The flames ahead were growing and threatening to devour the only path he had to her. He quickly reached the gap and with one hand on his rifle and the other on the guide rope, he stepped easily over it. Now the only thing left to negotiate was the growing flames. The only way through, he reasoned, was to move quickly. He shielded his face from the heat with his arm and moved as fast as he dared.

The added pressure of a grown man nearly running across it was too much for the bridge to bear and the burning ropes snapped. As the planks fell away from him, Zeke instinctively relinquished his rifle as both hands reached out for any purchase they could find. His grasp found the rope just in time and he watched his rifle shatter as it hit the ground below. His muscles ached from the strain, but any hesitation was too long as the flames continued to eat through the ropes. Zeke began clambering up the guide rope on the left, which had not yet caught fire. As he neared the flames, the heat threatened to overcome his resolve and send him to the bottom, but Zeke fought onward, climbing slowly as the fire burned to his right.

When Zeke reached the middle of the fire and the heat was at its worst, he began to have difficulty breathing. The smoke was all around him and was singeing the entire right side of his body. He stopped, focusing on simply not letting go. As he hung there, several of the planks fell away, showering him with sparks and burning his ears and head. Suddenly, a jolt went through the rope and he swung to the left with the fire swinging out further to his right. Without the planks to hold it together, the bridge was separating.

He could breathe again. Renewed, he began his struggle up the rope and though it took every bit of strength he had, he eventually clawed his way to the edge and over it. Exhausted, he hauled his body over the rim and lay on his back, gulping air. A laugh escaped his chest quite involuntarily. How was he still alive, he wondered.

Quickly he gathered his thoughts and got to his feet, drawing his pistols. They couldn’t have gone far, he told himself and God himself would not stand between him and Alaine. With pure focus, he marched forward ready to kill anything that got his way.

There were tracks on the ground but he was not following them, not literally anyways. His senses reached out, found signs in everything. It was as though the wind itself was whispering to him, telling him where to find her. With a single purpose, he went forward, eyes open and hammers back.

The footprints led into a shallow ravine that was no more than ten feet deep. The sandy floor left no doubt which way they had gone. Zeke quickened his steps, which was a mistake. If he had been moving cautiously, he would have had more time to react when Morris sprung from cover and opened fire. Zeke brought his guns to bear and fired with his left, hitting Morris in the stomach and sending him to the ground. As he did so, Thad came out on his right, opening fire. Zeke dodged to the left and fired with his strong hand. His first shot was enough to scare Thad who retreated to cover just as Jeremiah stepped out from behind a rock about fifteen yards away. The sight of him brought fury to Zeke’s heart and before Jeremiah could get a shot off, Zeke fired, hitting him near the hip. Jeremiah spun around and darted away, holding his wounds. Thad’s head popped up for just a second, which was more than enough time for Zeke to zero in and blow it off. Zeke moved quickly ahead.

Morris was trying to crawl to cover holding the wound in his belly. As Zeke walked past, without breaking his stride, he fired a single shot into his back, killing Morris instantly.

Ahead in the dry riverbed, Clayton sat safely behind cover with his knee on Alaine’s chest. Jeremiah came limping into view.

“What happened?” demanded Clayton.

“Thad and Morris are dead.” replied Jeremiah, stumbling behind the log where Clayton was hiding, “I’m hit pretty bad.”

“What about Zeke?” asked Clayton, “He hit?”

“I think so.” groaned Jeremiah.

Zeke felt a pinching his side. He looked down as a patch of blood ballooned to the right of his belly button. He wasn’t sure who had hit him. In all the excitement, he felt nothing. Now, a wave of nausea swept through him and darkened his vision. The ground began to wobble beneath his feet. He needed to move fast.

“Clayton!” he hollered, “Come out here and get what’s coming to you!” Zeke kept moving, willing his legs to carry him forward. Soon, his blurry vision detected a horse tied to a fallen log. Without thinking, he moved behind a nearby rock. Clayton could see where he had stepped but he had no shot. “Clayton!” cried Zeke a second time, “I’m coming for you.”

“You sound hurt, Zeke.” answered Clayton, “Tell you what, let us be on our way and I won’t kill you.” In response, Zeke fired a single shot that had no hope of hitting neither Clayton nor Jeremiah but made clear he had no intention of letting up.

Behind the log, Clayton made a decision.

“Keep an eye on her.” he told the wounded Jeremiah who made no response. He then moved out from behind the tree. Zeke saw this and mirrored his action. Now they were face-to-face across a distance of about thirty paces. Quietly, they eyed each other. It was Clayton who spoke first.

“Shame it had to come to this, Zeke old buddy.” he said, “I hate to kill you, especially like this. We could have made such a pair.” Zeke could feel the strength in his hands fading. Any second now and he would no longer be able to feel his fingers. With his left hand covering his wound, him moved his right into position over his pistol.

“Make your move, Clayton.” he said. Clayton looked him over as fear took root in his mind. True, Zeke was wounded, maybe mortally so, but the look in his eye was one of certainty, which gave Clayton shivers. There was no backing out now.

In a flash, Clayton’s hand went to his pistol and he drew. Zeke was at least half a step behind him and he seemed to be having trouble drawing his gun. Clayton had filled his hand and was raising it while Zeke was still struggling to free his weapon. Clayton took aim and a shot rang out. Clayton felt a tremendous shock move through his chest. He was dead when he hit the ground, and for a second, Zeke had no idea what had happened. Then he noticed Alaine with a smoking pistol in her hand and Jeremiah dead from his wounds on the ground beside her. She was safe. Upon realizing that, he collapsed as she rushed forward to his side.

“Zeke!” she cried, kneeling beside him and cradling his head, “Are you all right?”

“No, darlin’.” he coughed, “I’m pretty shot up. Now listen to me. I want you to take that horse and ride east, you hear me?” Tears welled up in Alaine’s eyes.

“You’re coming with me.” she said, fighting sobs.

“I’m played out.” he said, “You have to go on without me.”

“I can’t.” she said, brushing his hair out of his face, “You still have my boots.” She tried to force herself to smile.

“You can have them.” replied Zeke, “They don’t fit me.” A laugh escaped Alaine.

“Why, Zeke,” she said, “did you just make a joke?”

“No.” he replied, “I tried them on. They really don’t fit.” Zeke smiled, Alaine chuckled through tears.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so big before.” she said.

“Well,” said Zeke, “now you’ve seen it. Now get out of here.”

“No.” replied Alaine, “You’re coming with me.”

“I can’t. I’m done in.”

“You’re coming with me.” Alaine repeated and laid him gently on the ground. She marched over to the only horse Zeke hadn’t shot and untied it. She jerked the reins but the horse resisted.

“Come on.” she cried, “Come on you son of a bitch.” She tugged ever more forcefully on the reins. Slowly the horse reluctantly followed. She pulled him to the spot where Zeke lay dying. Grabbing a hold of his bit in both hands, Alaine mimicked the trick she had seen Zeke perform and pulled the resisting horse in a tight circle, leading him to the ground.

“Come on, Goddammit!” she cried, adopting Zeke’s favorite curse. The horse, overwhelmed by her will, followed its bit to the ground. Quickly, Alaine laid herself across its neck, weighing it down. She had won.

The horse now lay on its side only a few feet from Zeke, who was fading fast.

“Zeke!” cried Alaine, “Give me your hand.” Alaine stretched out her hand as far as she could while still keeping her weight on the horse’s neck, but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t make it. “Zeke, I can’t reach.” She cried. Zeke could barely lift his head. Slowly, he reached out his hand. A distance of only three feet separated their outstretched fingers. “I can’t hold him down much longer, Zeke. Please!” tears streamed down Alaine’s face, “Come to me.” She cried. With all his heart, Zeke wanted to reach her hands. Not because he wanted to be saved from death, but because he wanted to touch her one last time before death took him.

The last thing he remembered was trying to crawl to her to tell her that he loved her.