An Unfair Fight with a Known Quantity

I'd never been in a fair fight; nor did I intend to start. I murdered, but only murderers.

I got some shut-eye then, my plans and equipment ready.

*Part 4: An Unfair Fight

At four in the morning, I saddled Karen. I strapped the pistol to my hip and loaded the rifle, just in case I needed one more or needed to run. I put on my hat out of habit, and shortly Karen and I were fording the creek where I'd seen Ansel do it, letting Karen drink for some time, yet a quarter mile from the house. I dismounted and tied Karen to some scrawny bushes there so she could get all the water she might like. I left the Whit tied to the saddle, available if I needed it on the run.

The house was dark, and it didn't seem anyone was awake. I moved around the front window that I'd looked in that afternoon and reached for the door latch.

The latch was mostly gone. The door wouldn't lock, but it didn't swing freely when I pushed. I pushed it open enough to slide my hand around and felt a carpetbag, such as would be used to carry clothes on a trip. It was full, but I simply lifted it and opened the door very slowly. It was quiet. I could hear snoring from the bedroom. I put the bag down, stood up, and drew the pistol. Moonlight was streaming in the windows.

There was no door to the bedroom, just the frame for one. I looked in. Abigail and Holt were on the bed, naked, her arm across his hairy chest, and Ansel was asleep on the floor at the foot of the bed, probably from too much liquor. The room reeked of whisky, and there was an empty bottle under Ansel's head like a pillow. Abigail moved on the bed then, and I considered moving fast, but I was still unsure as to how I should treat her. She woke then and I pulled back behind the doorframe.

She had her head on Holt's shoulder, and in the moonlight I heard her whisper to him, "I'm going to suck you hard." She reached down for his piston, tickling it very lightly with her fingers. He didn't open his eyes but I saw him smile slightly at her touch, and then she slid down and took his soft dick in her mouth. I decided how to treat her then. She was no victim. She willingly fucked with killers, and probably was one herself.

Abigail's head faced away, so quiet movement was more important than speed. I stepped into the room, slowly, putting my foot next to Ansel's ear.I slowly put the pistol to Ansel's chest and pulled the trigger. The roar and flash of the big revolver's discharge rent the night.It surprised Abigail so much she bit off Holt's dick, because he screamed and jumped bolt upright standing on the bed, and she yanked her head around to see me point the gun maw at him. Her eyes were big with fear, and her mouth bloody and full of dick.

I aimed at Holt and put the second round into his chest, which staggered him back, and a third a second later into his forehead. He fell back against the wall and to the side and hit the floor beside the bed. His eyes were open and sightless.

Abigail stared at me but then realized I was not going to immediately shoot her. She spit out Holt's dick then.

"I assumed you swallowed," I said.

Holt was dead on the floor, and his beautiful lover was suddenly aghast at the horror, but she was so afraid she couldn't move in that moment. His friend was dead on the floor, never having knowledge he was dead.

I stood over my big brother, the murdering, raping, evil, slaver. I knelt beside him. He was gone.

"Hey, Holt. Mine's bigger now," I said, quietly.

I smelled the powder, the whisky, the sex, the blood in that little house. I felt numb, calm, almost satisfied. Holt Halder and Ansel Trillinger were killed in a few seconds. So ended our War Between the States.

Abigail was so beautiful, sitting naked now in a corner with her knees drawn up, rocking back and forth and whimpering. She was so willing, so wanton, so turned, and now her eyes were horrified. I think she deserved to remember what it was like to bite off a man's dick. I wondered if she would be mad for it.

I gathered all the weapons in the house and disabled them but for the Sharps, which I kept.

Abigail was still rocking in her corner. I shook my head and said, "You never should have hooked up with Holt. Anyway, I'm leaving you two horses, Abigail, and the mule. You might want to go back to your dad. He might forgive you for what you did to your boyfriend. Last I heard, Hammond was still unconscious. Or you could be a harlot over at the Lusty Man. They could use you while you're still pretty. You seem to like that sort of thing. Second Circle is an apt place for a girl like you. Up to you, of course." I left the house and the crazy woman rocking in the corner.

I took the big horse I'd seen with the others, using Holt's old saddle. I collected Karen, who appreciated she would not have to carry me for a bit. She was wary of the stallion, however.

Being in the saddle allows for deep thinking, sometimes. I ruminated. Either a man deserves to be dead or he don't. Honor? No one deserves to be dead because he's slow on the draw. At least, I don't. I don't believe in a fair fight.

I might lose.