Chapter 8

Big Jake had noticed the shift in the townsfolk’s attention and the dwindling patronage of his saloon. His eyes narrowed as he watched the last of his regulars stumble out of the barn, their faces flushed with excitement. He didn’t miss the way they talked about the fights with a kind of feverish passion that his own poker games and whiskey could never match.

He knew that Will and Carter had stumbled upon something big, something that could threaten his own business. And Big Jake didn’t take kindly to competition, especially not from a couple of greenhorns who didn’t know their asses from a hole in the ground. So, he hatched a plan. A plan that would not only put an end to their little nude catfighting circus but also solidify his place as the king of the town’s nightlife.

Jake’s eyes fell on Mrs. McMillan, her beauty and grace a stark contrast to the grime and sweat that clung to the barn’s walls. He saw dollar signs, not a person. She was the star of the show, the one who brought the crowds flocking. And if he could get his hands on her, he could use her as leverage, sell her to the highest bidder at an out-of-town auction where her talents would be appreciated by those with deeper pockets and fewer scruples.

He sent word to Prowling Carson, the most notorious bandit in the region. Carson was a man known for his cruel cunning and the loyalty of his gang. They met in the shadows of a deserted alley, whispers of their nefarious plan mingling with the howl of the wind.

“I’ve got my eye on Mrs. McMillan,” Jake said, his voice low and full of greed. “The town’s going crazy for her in those barn catfights. She’s the golden goose, and I aim to pluck her feathers clean.”

Prowling Carson’s eyes narrowed, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I’ve got just the crew for the job,” he said, stroking his chin. “They’re rough around the edges, but they know how to keep a secret and get the job done under the good price.”

The two men shook hands, their grip firm and filled with a silent promise of greed. Big Jake knew he had found the right man for the job. Carson’s reputation was one of ruthless efficiency, and he had a network of bandits that stretched across the West. They would find Mrs. McMillan and bring her back, no questions asked.

For the next few days, Will and Carter were oblivious to the plot forming against them. They were too busy counting their profits and planning their next event, the excitement of their newfound venture blinding them to the dangers lurking in the shadows. They had no idea that Big Jake had put a price on the head of their star attraction, and that the bounty was growing with every whisper of the coming show.

Mrs. McMillan, on the other hand, felt the weight of her newfound fame and the precariousness of her situation. Her secret trysts with Will had become more frequent and intense, each encounter a silent declaration of their love and shared destiny. Yet, she knew that the town’s appetite for her body could lead to her downfall. The whispers grew louder, the stakes higher, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread creeping into her heart.

Will approached Carter one evening, the smell of money and sweat still lingering on their clothes from the last fight. “We need to stock up on whiskey for the next event,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “We can’t have the crowd sober when the girls are fighting. It’s bad for business.”

Carter nodded, his eyes lighting up at the thought of the profits they could make. “You’re right,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s hit the general store before it closes. We’ll need enough to keep this whole town drunk and happy.”

They swung into their saddles, the leather creaking as the horses shifted beneath them. The brothers had always loved the feel of the wind in their hair, the thunder of hooves beneath them as they raced across the open plains. But tonight was different. The air was charged with anticipation, the moon casting eerie shadows that danced alongside them.

The general store loomed ahead, its windows glowing with the warm light of a kerosene lamp. Will dismounted. He knew that Big Jake’s men were out there, watching, waiting for their chance to strike.

Carter followed suit, his eyes scanning the street for any signs of trouble. “Keep your wits about you,” he warned, his voice tight with tension. They could feel the eyes of the town on them, the whispers of their secret venture now a full-blown murmur that seemed to follow them everywhere they went.

They entered the general store, the bell chiming a merry tune that seemed out of place against the gravity of their errand. The shopkeeper, an old man with a stooped back, eyed them warily from behind the counter. He knew the kind of business they were in and had the good sense to keep his mouth shut and his opinions to himself.

“We’ll take two crates of your finest whiskey,” Will said, slapping down a wad of cash. The man’s eyes widened at the sight of the money, and he quickly gathered the requested goods.

As they waited, Will’s gaze drifted to a new item displayed on the shelf behind the counter. A delicate, intricately crafted lion’s head brooch caught his eye. It was a rare find in these parts, its emerald eyes gleaming in the soft light. He couldn’t resist the urge to ask, “How much for the lion pin, Carter?”

Carter followed his gaze, his expression one of mild curiosity. “What’s it to ya?” he questioned.

“It’s for mom,” Will replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s beautiful, like her. And it’s got emeralds, just like her eyes. I think she’d like it.”

Carter’s eyes flicked from the brooch to Will, and for a moment, he saw not his brother, but the young boy who had once worshipped their mother with a fierce, unbridled love. The sight brought a pang of something to his chest, a feeling he hadn’t experienced in years.

“Alright,” he said, his voice gruff. “But we ain’t got all night.”

The old shopkeeper’s eyes gleamed at the sight of the extra cash in their hands. “For the pin, you say?” he croaked, his voice dry as dust. “It’ll set ya back fifty bucks, but for you fine gentlemen, I’ll make it an even fourty-five.”

Without a second thought, Will peeled off the extra bills and slapped them onto the counter. The old man’s hand trembled as he took the money, his eyes never leaving the brothers. He carefully wrapped the brooch in a scrap of velvet and handed it over. Will took it gently, feeling the weight of the metal in his palm. It was a beautiful piece, just like his mother.

They emerged from the store, the whiskey crates heavy in their arms. “Carter,” Will said, his voice firm. “Take these back to the barn. I’ve got something I need to give to my mom.”

Carter eyed him quizzically but nodded. “Alright,” he said, his curiosity piqued. “But don’t be too long. We’ve got a lot of preparing to do for the next fight.”

The moon cast a silver path before Will as he made his way to their small, clapboard house. His mother’s silhouette was framed in the window, the soft light revealing the curve of her waist as she moved about the kitchen. His heart swelled with love and a sense of urgency. He had to protect her from the darkness that threatened to engulf their lives.

The brooch felt like a talisman in his pocket, a symbol of his admiration and hope for her. He knew the town saw her as a prize, a commodity to be ogled and bet on, but to him, she was so much more. She was a queen, a warrior, a goddess. He hoped this small gesture could bring her the respect she deserved, a sparkling declaration of her beauty that even the roughest of townsfolk couldn’t ignore.

As Will approached the house, the sight of the open door hit him like a punch to the gut. The furniture was scattered, chairs upended and the table a shattered mess. Panic surged through him, and he called out for his mother, his voice echoing through the darkened rooms. He searched frantically, his heart hammering in his chest like a caged animal. The quiet was eerie, the only sound the creaking of the floorboards under his boots.

Outside, he found no trace of her, the dust of the yard untouched by any recent footsteps. He rushed back in, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow for any sign of a struggle. The house was a silent testament to their love and the secrets they shared, now violated by some unseen hand. He stumbled into his mother’s room, the bed a rumpled mess, the sheets still holding the scent of her perfume. The room looked as if it had been ransacked, but she was nowhere to be found.

Will’s heart raced as he tore through the house, his panic building with each empty room. The kitchen was a wreck, pans and dishes scattered on the floor. The living room looked like a tornado had ripped through it, cushions thrown about and the lamp lying in shards. His mother’s room was in disarray, her dresses torn from their hangers and thrown across the floor. The bed, where he had shared so many stolen moments of passion, was stripped and the sheets were stained with the scent of their love. But she was nowhere to be found.

It was then that he noticed it—the telltale sign of a hasty departure. Through the open window, he saw the unmistakable tracks of horse hooves in the backyard, cutting through the soft soil like the strokes of a brutal artist. There were at least four horses, maybe more. His gut clenched. They had come for her.

Without a second thought, Will saddled up Wilder, his mother’s prized horse, and took his two favorite rifles from the gun cabinet. The cool metal of the barrels was a comforting weight against his palms, a promise of protection and retribution. The moon was high, casting a silver glow on the horizon as he rode hard towards the barn.

Carter, sensing his friend’s urgency, had already started setting up the makeshift stage. The air was thick with the scent of sawdust and freshly planed wood, the barn’s interior a hive of activity. Lanterns swung from the rafters, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls as the men worked.

Will’s horse thundered into the barn, the sound echoing off the wooden walls. He leapt from the saddle, the whiskey crates forgotten. “They’ve taken her,” he gasped, his chest heaving with fear and rage. “The bandits, they’ve got my mom!”

Carter’s eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?”

Will’s face was a mask of fury and fear. “Dead serious. The house is wrecked, and there are horse tracks in the backyard. At least four, maybe more.”

Without wasting another breath, Carter’s hand shot to the gun rack, grabbing two Winchesters. “We’ve got to move,” he said, his eyes flashing. “We’re gonna follow those tracks and get her back.”

The boys mounted their horses and rode into the night, the sound of their hooves a thunderous drumbeat echoing through the deserted streets. The town was a blur of shadow and light behind them as they raced towards the horizon, following the trail that led them out into the wilds. The wind tore at their clothes and hair, but it couldn’t touch the cold fury that burned within them.

The moon was a sliver of silver in the sky, casting just enough light to illuminate the tracks ahead. They followed the trail with grim determination, each crunch of the dirt beneath the horses’ hooves a step closer to their mother’s rescue. The darkness was thick and foreboding, but it held no secrets from their desperate eyes. They had grown up in these lands, had chased rabbits and foxes under the same moon, and now they chased a much more dangerous prey.

The night was alive with the sounds of the desert, but their focus was unwavering. Will’s heart pounded in his chest with each beat of the hooves, a rhythm that matched the pulse of fear and anger that surged through his veins. He clutched the emerald lion’s head brooch in his hand, a symbol of his love and resolve.

The tracks grew fainter as they ventured deeper into the wilderness, but the bond between the brothers and their mother was stronger than any trail that could be lost. The moon cast a ghostly light upon the landscape, throwing their shadows long and lean before them. Every now and then, they would dismount to examine the ground more closely, their eyes adjusted to the darkness like those of nocturnal predators stalking their prey.

It was Will who first spotted the tall grass, a sea of whispers that swayed in the night breeze. The tracks led straight into it, as if swallowed by the earth itself. He called to Carter, pointing ahead with a tremor in his voice. “We can’t lose them now,” he said, fear etched into every line of his face.

They slowed their horses to a cautious trot as they approached the grass. The tall blades whipped against their legs, a stark contrast to the smooth dirt they had been following. The trail grew faint, almost invisible beneath the moon’s fickle glow. They dismounted, kneeling to examine the earth, their eyes scanning for any signs of the horses that had carried their mother away.

Carter swore under his breath, his eyes narrowing. “Looks like they’ve gone to ground,” he murmured. “We’ve lost their trail.”

Will’s stomach dropped, his grip on the lion’s head brooch tightening. “What do we do now?” he asked, his voice raw with fear and frustration.

The confusion grew palpable between the boys as the night’s cloak thickened around them. The once-clear trail had vanished into the embrace of the tall grass, leaving them with nothing but the sound of their own breathing and the rustle of the night breeze for company. Will’s heart hammered in his chest as he looked to Carter for guidance, the emerald eyes of the lion’s head brooch seeming to bore into him, urging him to find his mother.

The darkness deepened, swallowing the moonlight and leaving them in a near-complete void. The stars above provided scant illumination, their twinkling a cruel reminder of their isolation. The brothers felt the weight of their predicament pressing down upon them, a suffocating blanket of doubt and fear. The night had become their enemy, a silent witness to their desperation.

Suddenly, a glint of silver caught Carter’s eye. He squinted, focusing on the spot where the light danced, and his mind raced.

“Will,” he whispered urgently, “I’ve got an idea. Remember Mukiki, the Native American fighter we met at the desert when we in shot trainning?”

Will nodded, his eyes never leaving the ground. “What about him?”

Carter’s face was a mix of excitement and hope. “His eagle,” he murmured. “He can track anything. If we can get a message to him, he might be able to find her.”

Will’s head snapped up, the flicker of an idea lighting his eyes. “You think he’d help us?”

“Mukiki owes us,” Carter said with conviction. “Remember, when we come to his tribe camp, and he and the shaman said they’d help us if we ever needed it.”