The Taking of Orlis Keene

We watch the men as they pass our position. I think I might just piss myself. Good thing we are getting new clothes. I can see where Antonelli took a dive into the scrub. They don't see him yet, but will in another twenty feet or so.

Lou scrambles across the path with Ollie and now I am alone, pistol in hand... hard to hold with sweaty palms. I touch the cartridge belt that is looped around my neck and shoulder, then with a nervous twitch I cock the piece. That slight noise is enough to stop the men in their tracks. Shit on a stick.

The horses turn back on the trail, as they do the man with the holster in front sees Lou and in an instant his gun is coming out. His partner drops the reigns and starts to draw the two guns at his side. In this moment I feel paralyzed, unable to do a thing but watch what is to unfold. But down deep I know that inaction is death.

I stand and in an instant my pistol discharges. I start to drop to one knee... peeling off my next shot like Lou had shown me, trigger pulled and fan the hammer. At the same time the outlaw drawing both pistols takes a round from me and a horrendous blast from behind as Antonelli opens a hole through him with the scattergun.

In this same moment shots are fired by the quickdraw and Lou dives to his left, gun blazing until three shots and have found their mark. In addition, Ollie's Bowie knife gives the man a nice place to hang his hat in the center of his chest. The men fall from their mounts and bleed into the crags and scrub. There is no way of stopping this now. The lid is off and the clock is running.

Antonelli steps up and we try our best in the moment to gather a strategy. Before a word is said, rifle shots ring out from the lookout. At first a scattered volley, but then carefully placed shots as first one rider comes into our view, and then... just for a moment the second. In that instant the second rider falls, taken by the Sharps, I am told by Lou who surely knows the sound. The second rider spurs his horse and gains speed. Another shot from the Sharps and he too is hit and he slumps forward in the saddle... horse blazing the trail back to camp. He is not dead, but from the looks of it he might have taken one in the shoulder or back.

Lou climbs up on quickdraw's mount and I toss him the man's hat. At least in this waining light of day and the shadows that are swallowing up this canyon he might get farther if he at least resembles the man that lay dead at my feet. He pulls a repeating rifle from its scabbard on the saddle and makes sure it is loaded. As we reload our pistols, Andy and Mike run down the trail to join us... Andy cussing up a storm about his rifle.

"These sites are off."
Antonelli laughs, "Is that why you can't hit the ground with your hat?"
"I fired four shots and none of them went where I aimed."
Lou looks up from his gun, "Nice shooting, Mike."
"How did you know it was me?"
"I know the sound of a Sharps... and that was some nice shooting."
Andy tisks.
Mike blushes just slightly, "Thanks."

Ollie grabs the rifle from the scabbard of the two-gun fighter and feeds a couple more rounds into the cartridge trap door on its side. Lou sees what he is doing and asks him to trade rifles. Ollie's has a large loop reloading lever that will allow Lou to use it with one hand. The trade is made without question. He takes another pistol for good measure.

Within a minute or two of the latest exchange of gunfire we have Antonelli on the horse the relief man rode in on. His clothing and the horse might fool someone at a distance. Myself and Lou take the horses that just lost their riders. Weapons are loaded and adrenaline is properly coursing through our veins. Already starting down the trail is Ollie, Andy, and Mike. They will position themselves to provide rifle fire into the camp from a safe but accurate distance.

The three of us ride down the trail and pass the boys. Ahead and to the right is the river. It is knee deep at what looks to be the best place to cross, but exposed to the outlaw camp. If we don't cross here any cover we might have will be blown. If they make us while crossing our shit is hanging in the wind.
Lou takes up point and whispers back to get in a single file behind him.

I give some thought to this Orlis Keene. If he is as bad-ass as we are led to believe, then maybe he won't think anyone could have bested his men. I think this is what Lou is thinking, although there is no time to discuss it. So in we ride, crossing the river, one after the other, Lou in a familiar hat, with pistol, rifle, and a prayer at hand.

We see two men at the raging campfire in the fraction of a second before things get hot. In from the shadows rides the man that Mike has wounded. This alerts the two we see and they pull their weapons as they go to the side of the wounded rider and pull him from his horse. They look through the fire at us as we cross from the river into the camp. One of them calls to us, a name... Grady. From up in the rocks behind them the shooting starts, the third man who is in a position to see that we are not who they think we are.

From behind us and across the river a shot rings out. One of the men behind the fire falls face first into the blaze. We split from behind Lou and each of us cuts to one side of camp, firing at the men at the fire and the man in the rocks. Chris and I jump off the horses and drop, trying to make each shot count as we unload into the shapes on the other side of the flames. Gunfire pours from the direction of the campfire, but slows as the lead poisoning becomes too much for them to handle.

As we dispatch the second gunman and the injured rider, Lou is still on horseback and heading to the rise behind the camp. In one hand he fires the pistol, the other hand fires the rifle, expertly swinging it around with that large-loop reloading lever to jack another cartridge into the breach before firing the next round.

"They say he has Grit." I tell Antonelli.
"That's big talk for a one eyed fat man." He tells me.
"I don't get it." I say back.

Lou fires the rifle both weapons until they are spent. He tosses them and dismounts. It is now that we see Orlis Keene, a legend in his own mind. He shows himself, now certain that he will best this stranger.
"You make a big mistake."
"What might that be?"
"If I were you I would have kept the rifle and fall back. You're in the kill zone, my friend, with no rounds left."

Lou stands and shows the holster and weapon at his side.
Orlis comes down out of the trees and scrub and stands about fifty feet in front of Lou, the light at the fire's edge giving a flickering of illumination.

"Hell... he looks just like Lou." Antonelli says in a low voice.

We watch as the two men face off, Orlis sizing up the man in front of him.
"You ever kill anyone face to face? It isn't for the weak of heart."
"I've killed plenty."

I have the urge give verification on that point, but don't.

"Well now, you think you're man enough to take me in a gunfight? I not too sure you are very well informed."
"How so?" Lou is completely on edge. If the guy blinks his eyes wrong I am sure he'll kill him before he draws his next breath.
"Don't you know who I am?"
"Yeah, I know."

The lack of respect in this whole conversation has Orlis seeing red.
"I AM ORLIS KEENE, BOY."

Uh oh, he called him boy.

Keene flinches. I am sure he meant to go for his gun, but the move didn't get further than that initial start. Lou pulls the gun in a heartbeat and puts two rounds through him. Orlis manages to unholster his weapon and fire, but as he drops to his knees the shots go wild off into the settling night. He stays up long enough to get a good look at Lou, who walks up to him.

"Looks like you met your match."
Orlis chokes a little and we can see the blood pouring from the corner of his mouth.
"Who are you?" He wavers and then falls face first into the scrub, his spirit not waiting for the answer.

Lou removes the man's gunbelt and pulls the weapon from his loosening grip. To the victor goes the spoils. As he stands we all wait for a moment, listening in the darkness. We hear only the rush of the river. This must have been it, all of them.

"Call them in." Lou says in a low, almost trans-like voice. I understand.

"All clear, boys. Come on in."

Ollie peels off three quick shots in succession from his rifle, remembering what Lou had told Seedling. Andy and Mike bring up the rear as the three of them cross the river and come into the fire-light.

There isn't a soul left alive. Orlis Keene's band of outlaws have terrorized their last of the towns folk, soldiers, and Indians alike.

"Man... " Antonelli rolls Orlis Keene on his back. "That guy looks a lot like you, Lou. I mean, you could be brothers."

We all look at him, nodding before we start looking through the gear they have piled up near the fire.
"Hey, look at this." Andy holds up a bow and quiver of arrows.

"It's even harder to hit something with one of those than that rifle you couldn't shoot for shit." Antonelli calls to him as he digs through a set of saddle bags that are on the ground near the fire.
"Alright... now you're talking." He holds up a bottle of what might be tequila.

We are there looking through shit for a minute or two. It is long enough to bring our thoughts back that might have strayed. We hear a sound... like a bull running through the brush. I look at Lou and he at me. The big man, the one that took the Clarok, he isn't one of the men we have seen today. As we process this thought, he comes barreling out of the darkness, a shotgun blast that has pellets whizzing by us. Another blast, this time low. We have dropped to the ground and the blast would have knee-capped us had we not moved.

From behind us an arrow flies, burying itself into the man's chest. Then another, and another, until it looks as though he has them growing out of him. He stops all forward motion and grabs and the arrow shafts, snapping two of them... looking at them before he falls back. When he hits the ground we feel it move beneath us.

Andy stands, bow in one hand, an arrow pulled back... ready to fire in the other.
Antonelli's jaw is hanging open. Had it been able to move I am sure he would retract the comment he made minutes ago.

All is safe for now. We locate the Clarok from where the Bull had made his entrance. They must have realized it was worth enough to keep it hidden and away from camp. We all agree to boil these clothes before we wear them any longer. The corpses are stripped, as well as the six of us. We don our robes and the wicked stew of filthy clothing is bubbling away in the largest cook-pot we can find.

We have horses, guns, and money. We have whiskey, tequila, and even four rabbits that these guys must have killed for dinner. We will wait for Seedling, wait for sunlight, before we continue.