scurlock | Entries tagged with character: billy the kid

It's dark when they duck out of the bar and back into the New Mexico desert, the lonely stand of adobe ruins. It had been easy enough when they were back at the bar to ignore the reality of life. But now that they were here...

Tommy was dead.

"Tomorrow we'd best get some more ground towards Ol' Mexico," Doc mutters, quietly, before he drops onto a patch of earth near a wall, rifle stretched across his chest, not more than a few inches from his hand.

He doesn't sleep. The other boys do, or at least they fake it well enough.

There's no roof in the cabin and with the lack of a campfire it's pitch black save for the barest hint of the moon. It's cold. Fall, almost winter. Snow'll be coming in the high desert soon. He can see the stars dotting the sky overhead and it makes his heart ache, a little, because there's one thought running through his mind.

The sky changes from ink black to dark blue, then lightens as the sun peeks over the horizon to the east. Doc gets up to watch it, ignoring the way it nearly blinds him.

It's beautiful.

(Poetic.)

The boys are up soon after, but nobody knows what to say or do. They're not hungry. They don't want to ride out, even though they know they should be going already.

It's like they're all walking on eggshells, around each other, but all he wants to do is scream.

Chavez climbs the hill with his knife and is singing, softly, as he stares out over the desert and runs the blade along a fistfull of that long, dark hair, cutting it in jagged chunks, but Doc's not really paying attention.

Distracted, if anything, he's just staring out at the horizon, watching.

Waiting.

When they charge out of the door from the bar, it's as if they never quite left the scene. The only different thing, really, is the fact that hidden under the hat, Doc's hair is a bit shorter than last time, and he's not so sore from eating shit into the sand (or barfloor, for that matter).

At least for the half second before the horse cartwheels again and he's thrown from it.

"Argh!"

Doc hits the sand with a thud and then scrambles for his hat and gun, hearing the shots from the posse up the ridge.

They've got to get out of there, and fast.

Billy was always persuasive.

This was no exception. Doc had gone upstairs and changed into clothes that would be more suitable for riding around in the half-darkness and cold and then rejoined Billy downstairs, and took his coffee with him as they crunched along the dirty layer of snow towards the stables.

It was quiet. Almost a familiar quiet.

New Mexico was quiet too.

"So how far's the place where we can hole up for a bit 'fore Garrett comes near again," Doc asks, as they enter the stables through the smaller side door and head for the stall with their horses.

He was already smiling though. Maybe it was the prospect of doing something he was used to with a pal for a change.

After White Oaks, the boys head south. They ride like hell, that night, knowing that if there was one lynch mob in town that soon others would follow, even if Pat Garrett will have to stop and at least notice the fact that a deputy is dead.

Doc's not sure where they make camp, all he knows is that they're far enough awake from White Oaks that they don't see the glow of the flames or the smoke that curls into the sky as the Sheriff burns down that 'den of sin'. This is a good thing. The farther away they head from White Oaks, the better.

They ride for nearly a week. Across open desert and over mountains, keeping themselves as far away from Garrett as possible.

( +++ )

The next morning they gear up and head up into the canyon between two of the mountains. They can hear the faint sounds of men working, machines, and the braying of mules being used to carry buckets of material along, as they go deeper. It's a mine, and they need water.

Doc's riding in the front, bandana pulled up around his face, hat on. Billy's behind him, then Chavez and the rest of the boys as they make their way up. Nobody seems to give them a second glance.

When they see a man sitting near the machine that's driving the pulley system, Doc's the first to speak as they come to a stop around him.

"Hey. You got any water?"

The horses are tired, and quite frankly, so are all of the boys.

Doc still felt just a tad bit hungover from the drink -- he can't remember what it was -- he'd had the night before at the Bar but he didn't let it show as they stepped through the door from Milliways and into the 'rooming establishment' in White Oaks.

The town was different. There was a church, and soon they would think about a school house, and then the railroad, and that meant cleaning it up and getting it proper for the people in the town...but this was White Oaks. This was supposed to be a town where they could be safe. Where they could relax.

At least tonight, they could relax, then head for Ol' Mexico in the morning.

Even rough, tough, trail riding cowboys needed a break, every once in awhile, and it was no secret that if you wanted a break, that one of the best places in the entire territory to take that break was at Lady Jane's.

"Well I'll be hogtied and sent to Hades, Billy!"

OOC: Was co-written between

docscurlock &

young_gun_billy muns.

It wasn't hard finding the cows, it wasn't hard moving the cows. The hard part for Billy was holding back his laughter as he and the boys rode into town with the cows.

"Howdy." He grinned as they rode into a stockyard with the intent to sell their pilfered herd. "Found some cows."

And that's all it took. Chisum gave them the money they needed for the trip down to Ol' Mexico after all.

The sale went quick, Billy gave the guy a pretty good deal, and there were just a few stray matters to take care of. One of which Henry was discussing with Billy as they walked along.

"I guess what I'm trying to say, is, yer called 'Kid' and, ah, Rudebaugh's called 'Arkansas Dave' and, ah, I daresay Doc's Christian name ain't 'Doc'..." Henry said, gesturing and holding onto his hat.

It wasn't hard to guess what he was getting at, though Billy did let the man go on for a spell before making the point for him, "You want a name."

"Yes sir!" Henry nodded with an enthusiasm, "I would like that, I would like that very much indeed."

"You have to earn it, Henry. Until then, you're stuck with plain ol' Henry." Billy told him, patting his shoulder. "Sorry."

*****

They spent that night in a stand of adobe ruins, waking the next morning to the loud crack of gunfire.

It was too late to do anything more than sit around and work their way through a bottle of tequila and try to formulate a plan when it came to just how they were going to get to Old Mexico without getting themselves killed or caught. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be made easier by having a bit of money in their pockets when they finally made the run for the border.

So it was time to go see an old friend.

Doc kicked himself awake from the space of floor he'd been taking up in the spare room of Beever's. Pat was trying to avoid them all, for good reason, and Billy was going on about something in the other room with Dave, most likely. He scrubbed a hand over his face and then got up, rolled up his blanket, then pulled his boots on and headed outside without a word.

The horses would need food and water, so he set about doing that as the sun rose over the desert and the worn-down building they knew so well. John Chisum's ranch was a good ride from Beever's place, but when the man owned most of the property in the county, it was a good ride from anywhere.

Sleeping on a damn floor he yawned, then stretched his back and grabbed a bucket You're gettin' spoiled, in that bar, Doc. Get used to it.

Later he would find himself getting used to this again a little too quickly for his own taste.

Doc still wasn't too thrilled with the idea of going back to New Mexico, but he knew that it was something that had to be done regardless of the fact that he didn't want to. Life at Milliways was suiting him just fine, if you got past the part that included that he missed his wife and young son.

His only chance at seeing them again, was going home and trying to get to freedom. Head for the border. Old Mexico. Where outlaws could be men and go invisible. So he'd taken care of things with the stables and left the notes he needed to, strapped on his gun and grabbed the rifle from the security office where it had ended up, and headed back. Billy opened the door. It was a less chaotic scene then Doc had left, so, that was at least a plus.

Beever's tavern was a dive. But it was safe, for the most part. The rest of the boys would be here and they could get started. Doc grabbed himself a glass of whiskey once they stepped through the door, and then went to take a seat near the window, lighting himself a cigarette.

Just like old times.