《Way Of The Outlaw》


 Chapter 1

    It was early morning when he first opened his eyes which revealed to that the sun was up and a new day was starting without him. It didn''t matter that much, and the man refused to get up too quickly and enjoy the moment. Those first seconds of the day, that short pause before you finally decide to get your arse out of bed and get things going. The naked man felt comfortable but knew he was going to have to get up and start his day regardless of how good he was feeling. Park of his comfort might have been the naked lady laying beside him, and the rigorous activities that they had been doing long into the night. As much as he wanted to wake her up for another round of cardio, good judgement got the best of him, as he huffed deeply just before throwing his legs over the side of the bed. His feet slapped the wooden floor, but they didn''t have their usual chill which reminded him that they were in the dog days of summer. He stretched a bit and looked back to enjoy the view before huffing again as he lifted himself off the bed to stand and stretch.


    "Bart," the woman called from the bed, "Don''t you dare get up without giving me a little loving first."


    "Sorry, Daisy," Bart said, sighing deeply. "I can''t do that, or I''ll never get out of bed. I have money to make and bills to pay. This hotel room isn''t cheap, and neither are you."


    "I may not be cheap," Daisy said, grinning at him. "But I''m worth it."


    "Yes," Bart agreed, "Yes, you fucking are."


    "Are you sure you have to go?" Daisy asked, her tone almost whiny.


    "I''m afraid so, love." Bart said, as he walked over to the other side of the room and started to dress. "I need to earn some extra green if I want to take a whole day off with you. If I have that kind of luck at the tables, you''ll be the first to know."


    "Fair enough," Daisy said, laying back down and sighing herself.


    "Don''t be like that," Bart said, knowing what was going on in her head. "I prefer to take a break and save my strength for later tonight. We''ll hook up again after supper and we do a repeat of last night''s performance."


    "Promise?" Daisy asked, almost sounding excited.


    "I cannot make any promises," Bart said, "But I will try."


    "Alright," Daisy conceded, "I guess that will have to do."


    "Tell the ladies at work I said hello," Bart said as he put his jacket on to finish dressing for the day. He grabbed a hate from the hangar and turned back to face the naked lady on the bed. "Take your time, I have this room booked all week."


    "Thank you," Daisy said, as she was intent to rest a few more hours.


    "I am to please," Bart said as he opened the door and left.


    Bart walked down the hallway and descended the stairs that lead to the saloon where he was booking his room. There were a few people in there, drinking early or chattering amongst themselves. The bartender noticed him as he came down that stairs and waved to him.


    "Morning Bart," the bartender called out.


    "Morning Finn," Bart called back.


    "Hair of the dog to start your morning?" Finn called out.


    "Not this early," Bart said, walking towards the door. "Maybe later."


    "Have a good one!" Finn called as Bart strolled out into the street.


    The sun was out and as one of his friends would say the day was large, which mean there wasn''t a cloud to be seen and the sky as a result was a massive as an ocean. Bart could feel the heat on his shoulders and knew it was going to be one of those days, so he knew what saloon he would be spending his day in. Yet, he wasn''t in the mood to gamble just yet as he kept walking to a different building that was a short walk away. A specific establishment that only served food and didn''t bother using its time to offer gambling of any kind. What drew Bart in was the quality of the meals, and the lack of game also allowed him to relax and enjoy them without distraction. As he strolled into the restaurant, Bart quickly scanned the room to see who was there and where they were sitting. He spotted a specific man sitting in what would usually be his seat, but he didn''t wake up early enough to claim it for himself. He strolled over to the table and greeted the man sitting there with a nod and a tip of his hat.


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    "Good morning, Sheriff." Bart said.


    "Morning Bart," the sheriff replied, "Am I sitting in your seat again?"


    "I''m afraid so," Bart said, smiling at him. "But I cannot be angry at you for having the same instinct and cunning that possess."


    "This is the best place to sit," the sheriff agreed, "Back to the way, and the only view of both exits. By far the best seat if you don''t want to be ambushed."


    "Indeed," Bart said, sighing.


    "I guess you''ll just have to sit with me," The sheriff said, "And I''ll watch the exits for both of us."


    "Well, if you insist." Bart said as he took a seat.


    "I hope you don''t mind," The sheriff continued, "But since we''ve been doing this dance for the last three days, I took the liberty to order your breakfast when I placed mine. I hope you don''t mind since you''ve been eating the same thing each day and assumed you''d want it again today."


    "You assumed correctly," Bart said, taking his had off and placing it into the empty seat beside him. "Thank you, George."


    George smiled back and was pleased to hear his assumption was correct, and it would save them time.


    "You''re welcome, Bart." George said, sipping his coffee. "The least I could do for a friend, especially since you''ve been so polite and well behaved since coming into my town. Not a single shot fired since you arrived."


    "Now now, George." Bart said, "Don''t jinx me here."


    "Apologies," George said, "It was not my intention."


    "I know that," Bart said, as he had his own reasons for not being a bad boy and keeping all of his guns holstered. One of those reasons was laying in his bed. He had paid for her services for the whole week up front and would hate to lose the rest of the fee by starting a fight and having to leave town early. It was easier for Bart to keep his tongue and temper in check if he had something or someone to look forward to, and Daisy was just the woman to keep him in line. He''d be a good boy for now.


    "Anything big planned today?" George inquired.


    "Nothing concrete," Bart lied, "I might check out a few games and see what sticks."


    "Not a bad plan," George said, "Hopefully a good breakfast will get you going."


    Just as George said that, someone had tried to walk up to the sheriff with ill intent on his mind. He was pulling out a peacemaker just steps away from the lawman, and Bart pulled one of his guns and blew the man out of his boots before the Sheriff even spotted the man. The crowd jumped and was startled at the sound of the gun but seemed to settle down once Bart returned the smoke wagon back to its holster.


    "Damn it," the sheriff said, looking at the dead young man on the ground. "I barely saw him coming. How the hell did you see him? He was behind you!"


    "Your badge," Bart said, tapping the star on George''s chest. "I saw him approach in its reflection and had a guy feeling he was going to skin his pistol."


    "Son of a bitch," George said, slapping his friend on the shoulder. "Just for that, breakfast is on me today."


    "Unnecessary," Bart said, "But accepted with appreciation."


    "The least I can do," George said as he also stepped aside from the chair that he was originally sitting in. "And I believe this is your chair."


    "Well, this is unexpected." Bart said, as he took the seat George had been stealing all week. "If I knew that''s all it took, I would have shot someone a lot earlier."


    "No point keeping the vantage point today," George said, taking a new seat, "No one is going to be dumb enough to shoot at us again today."


    "And if they are, I''ll be ready." Bart said, winking at his friend.


    "God damn it," George said, "You ain''t never going to change, are you Bart?"


    "Never," Bart said, "Not even for a hot January."


    "Did you ever think of going legit, like I did?" George asked.


    "I couldn''t do it," Bart said, "My soul couldn''t handle wearing the white hat. I''m corrupted to the core and always will be."


    "At least we know where you''re coming from," George concurred, "Better to deal with the devil you know, am I right?"


    "That you are," Bart said, as being called a devil was no where near the worst thing someone said about him. "I will never forgive you for leaving the gang and becoming a lawman of all things!"


    "I got married," George reminded him, "You should try it sometime."


    "I don''t Daisy would appreciate me getting a girlfriend," Bart said, laughing at his own joke a little too much.


    "Maybe she can be the girlfriend," George suggested, "Get hitched and make an honest woman of her and raise a few kids."


    "Not in the cards, my friend." Bart said, "I already went down that road, and I can''t do it again."


    "You were married?" George said, stunned at the thought.


    "Almost," Bart corrected him, "It didn''t work out and we went our separate ways. I still think about her and what might have been."


    "Bart the lovestruck fool," George said, "Now I have seen it all."


    "Hush your tongue," Bart said playfully, "I have a reputation to maintain."


    "Apologies," George said again, "Let''s eat and speak no more of it."


    "That''s better," Bart said, and smiled as their food arrived just as it was mentioned. The body that Bart had dropped to the floor earlier was already gone and since George had made no effort to arrest him for it, no one else had an issue with it and said nothing. The two men seemed to settle down and enjoy a meal together before eventually going their separate ways for the day, as their jobs and lifestyles led them down different paths. It was only at this time before the days started that they could share company and not have to feel guilty over what one or both of them night do later that day.


    "Please try to make that the only person you shoot today," George requested.


    "I cannot make any promises," Bart said, "But I will try."

 Chapter 2

    Before heading to the saloon to start up a game, Bart walked over to the general store to pick up a few things he preferred to have on him whenever he was at the tables. He grabbed a few nice cigars, some tobacco to chew on when they were gone, and even a few snacks to chew on whenever he got hungry. He used to order food from the places where he was playing but one time the chef has drugged him through his food to knock him off his game and help a friend at the table. Since then, he always either brought his own food or waited until the games were over to make any orders. Sometimes attempts were made by the house to help the dealer so they wouldn''t lose as much money, so Bart never trusted anyone when playing his game and always assumed that everyone was out to sabotage him. It did seem a tad paranoid, but the approach helped him win more often so it started to stick with him. He was standing at the counter waiting to purchase his items, but there was a young girl in his way that was trying to buy a piece of candy.


    "I''m terribly sorry," the shopkeeper said, "You''re a few pennies short."


    Before anyone could say anything, Bart dug into his pocket and took out a quarter and placed it on the countertop.


    "Will that cover it?" He asked the shopkeeper.


    "Yes, Sir." The keeper replied.


    "Good," Bart said, "And give the change to the young lady."


    "Thank you, mister," the young girl said, even bowing respectfully.


    "It was my pleasure little lady," Bart said, tipping his hat back at her. "A friend of mine once said never to pass up a chance to build up good karma, especially when you''re about to start the day."


    "He sounds like a smart man," The girl replied.


    "He has his moments," Bard admitted, "Have a nice day."


    "To you as well," the young girl said, taking the cany and change before running out the door.


    "That was mighty kind of you," the keeper said, as he counted up Bart''s items.


    "Good will tends to swing both ways," Bart said, "I''m hoping you have the good whiskey in today."


    "I wasn''t going to say anything," The keeper admitted, "But since you''ve been a good patron today, I''ll get you a bottle of a new supply that just arrived."


    "Thank you kindly," Bart said as he waited patiently for the shop keeper to fetch the bottle for him. It was a very expensive brand, but Bart didn''t care as he put the money on the table without hesitation.


    "Good luck at the tables," The keeper said, knowing where he was going next.


    "Luck is for losers," Bart said, winking at the man as he backed out the door.


    Bart strolled down the road, soaking in the sun as that was the only time that day it would be beating down on him. He planned to spend the rest of his day in the saloon gambling and making money at the tables, and by the time his day was done the sun will have gone down and it would be night. It was only on a rare occasion that he''d emerge from his games with the sun still up, but those days were few and far between. Only when the cards were cold, or the table was too hostile would be bow out of the game for self preservation. Winning was nice, but you can''t spend it if you''re dead. He did promise the sheriff that he wouldn''t kill anyone else for the rest of the day, so if the table got cold or trigger fingers started to get itchy, then Bart wouldn''t hesitate to call it a day and maybe even surprise George at supper and try to talk him into hitting a train that weekend. He knew George was on the straight and narrow now, but he still enjoyed teasing him with ideas of future heists as if he was still a fellow bandit. Truth was, he respected George for going legit and making an honest living. He was married to a great gal, and even a few rug rats to go with the house and the picket fence. That wasn''t the kind of life for Bart, so he moved on without George and the rest of the gang. Some went to prison for being stupid and greedy, while others met an early grave. It felt like he was a dying breed, but Bart refused to give up the live, and continued to roll tables and gamblers as if he was robbing them blind. When you''re that talented, it''s almost like you''re stealing their wallet with ease, and they let you do it! That''s why Bart loved to play the game and was actually making a living at it that wasn''t as dangerous as hitting stagecoaches or trains. Since he was getting older and a little slower with age, it seemed the right choice to make to support his habits and the itch to do something dangerous.


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    When he walked through the swinging doors of the saloon, the smell of cigars and cheap whiskey was like a breath of fresh air to him. As he walked deeper into the busy establishment, he could see the poker tables as each one already had a few players and had already started without him. Clearly, he had been conversing with George too long, but it was still worth it. Let the men at the table win a few hands before he showed up gave them confidence, and that would give him the advantage as they bet free and easy and allow him to take a lot of their money before they started to play conservatively. When he spotted the perfect table with just the right players, Bart strolled over and tipped his cap to the men that were playing.


    "Gentlemen," he calmly started, "Is this seat taken?"


    "I don''t know," one of the players answered as he was unsure if he wanted someone like Bart to join the table.


    "Don''t like, Jones," One o the other players answered, "You know it isn''t."


    "He''s right," the dealer confirmed, "Buy in here is two hundred dollars."


    "Pricey game," Bart said as he took off his had and sat down. He then tossed the money onto the table. "I''m in, of course."


    "Thank you, Sir." The dealer said as he took the cash. "You may join in with the next hand."


    "Of course," Bart said, and then never said another word as he watched the table and how the hand before them carried out. Jones seemed to have a decent hand, while the other two players, Tubby and McCoy both seemed unsure of what to do and took their time deciding whether to call or fold.


    "Don''t waste our time, Tubby," Jones said, showing his impatience. "Are you in or now you yellow piece of shit!"


    "There''s no need for vulgarity," McCoy said, as he had already folded.


    "I call," Tubby said, unwilling to tolerate his banter as he laid out his hand. "I''ve got two pair: aces and queens."


    "Not bad," Bart said, as it was a decent hand.


    "Three fours." Jones said, as he laid his hand on the table. Considering that he had asked for three cards at the last draw. That means he only had a pair of fours and was bluffing when the first bet was made.


    Bart learned quite a bit about Jones but need to watch more hands before sensing a pattern with the man who was the biggest threat at the table. Tubby and McCoy were good, but they were inexperienced and young, and just learning how to play. Now that he was able to get a hand this turn, he wasn''t going to charge in right off the bat. He preferred to ease in and learn more about the men he was playing.


    "Now you''re in, Bart." The dealer said as he now included him into the next hand.


    Bart picked up his cards and right off the bat he had a pair of Jacks. Not a bad start, but Bart didn''t want to start strong, so he tapped the table to check. Like the previous hand Jones was eager to bet, putting a five on the table. McCoy again folded, not even pretending to have a decent hand. Tubby was quick to call, which was surprising to Bart as he didn''t think the big man had anything. Bart also decided to call which led them to the next draw. Bart and Tubby both asked for three cards each, where as Jones only asked for two, which explained the early bet to both men. Bart took a look at his three new cards and while there were no Jacks, he did draw a pair of tens, which gave him a decent hand, similar to what Tubby had last time but a little stronger this time. Jones made another strong bet after Bart had checked a second time, which is what Bart expected. There was no point in betting because he knew Jones would be more than happy to oblige. Much to his surprise, Tubby checked again and even raised. Either the big man was bluffing, or he was got something good from the draw. Either way, Bart at this point was only interested in observing rather than winning so he quickly folded as Tubby had ensured he would be able to see the cards without having to pay to do so. Jones was quick to call, and then quickly slapped his cards onto the table to reveal two aces sided with a king, ten, and a deuce. Clearly the cards Jones had kept were the aces and king, hoping he could get another king or ace, which never happened. Tubby then put his hand down to reveal that it was again inferior to Jones'' hand. He also had a single pair, but it was a pair of deuces. A shit hand that wasn''t worth bluffing with. If Bart wanted to bluff someone, he would bet a lot stronger and take only one or two cards at draw and that would make anyone nervous. Tubby wasn''t aggressive enough and was easily called. Rookie mistake, but he would learn.


    Despite having the best hand at the table, Bart didn''t want to start dominating the table too soon and wanted to scout a little bit more to look for tells and patterns before really jumping into the game. After four more hands, Bart had all the Intel he needed and started to play the game his way and with the knowledge that he needed to play the men at the as well as the cards and that gave him a serious advantage. That''s when Bart started to win and win often much to the disappointment of the other men at the table.

 Chapter 3

    Bart was having a pretty good day at the table. Despite the intentional slow start, the moment he was able to read the table he couldn¡¯t lose. The best part was once some of the players started to leave the table, others were eager to cash in and take their place. More players meant more money being dumped into the table, and that was exactly what Bart wanted to see happen as the day went on. Nothing made him more pleased than to watch as new players strolled up to their table, eager to get into the game and try to show off their skills. It was this kind of cockiness that often led to Bart leaving the table at the end of the day with a pocket full of cold, hard, cash. Yet as his chip stack started to dwarf the other players, Bart stopped tossing in winning hands and started calling more bluffs, forcing players to show what they had and would bully the table the longer the day went on. It had gotten to the point where some players didn¡¯t appreciate Bart using his chip advantage to favor himself and started to get lippy about it. Losing didn¡¯t sit well with them but it was something they¡¯d all have to get used to while Bart was sitting there. One of them had gotten so upset that he stood up to draw his gun on the cocky gambler but before he could even get his hand on the grip of his pistol, Bart had already drawn two guns and had them both pointing at the man, both cocked and ready to unload.


    ¡°Hand your guns in at the bar,¡± Bart ordered, ¡°Or your game is over for the day.¡±


    While most outlaws would blow the man out of his boots for even daring to draw at the table, Bart preferred not to shoot anyone at the table until he had already won all of their money first. It was a kind of unwritten rule to steal from them legally rather than at gun point since the Sheriff and his deputies kind of looked down on those kind of robberies occurring in the middle of saloons in broad daylight. Bart preferred to win his booty, rather than just steal if outright. The game was more fun anyway, but the next time someone tried to draw on him, an example might have to be set to make sure it didn¡¯t become a habit. Once the man had given both of his guns to the barkeep, Bart put his smoke wagons away and the game quietly resumed as if nothing had ever happened.


    ¡°You¡¯re not even mad?¡± the man asked as he sat back down at the table.


    ¡°I¡¯m mad you interrupted a good game,¡± Bart replied, ¡°But I can assure you that is the last time you will ever attempt to draw on me. If you ever try it again, I will repaint the walls with your blood. We clear on that, mister?¡±


    ¡°Yes, we are.¡± The man said, as he believed every word that was spoken. He had already learned from playing the game for the last few hours that Bart hardly ever bluffed, and odds are he was never bluffing and was ready to help a gambler meet their maker if they dared interrupted the game again. It was no bluff, as the next man to make a move would be dead and removed from the game for good.


    Another few hours passed and then someone else came into the bar and decided it was their turn to interrupt the game. He was carrying a message in his hand and was dead set on making sure the person who it was intended for was delivered.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± The young man called out, ¡°I¡¯m looking for Bart Jackson.¡±


    Not many people budged, let alone replied to the man¡¯s request. It was as if he were the only person in the saloon, but it was arrogance that was the cause of the silence rather than the actual reason for people to ignore him.


    ¡°I have a very important message,¡± The boy called out again.


    ¡°What kind of message?¡± a voice called out.


    ¡°I can¡¯t say,¡± the boy answered, ¡°It must be delivered as soon as possible. I was told that Mr. Jackson was in here.¡±


    Bart responded by throwing in his hand, while decent, wasn¡¯t enough to make him want to play any further.


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    ¡°Over here, kid.¡± Bart called out, as he stood up. ¡°Cash me out.¡±


    A few of the players at the table groaned as they felt like their only chance to win their money back was leaving too soon for them to recover.


    ¡°Here you go, Sir.¡± The boy said, handing him the telegram. ¡°I apologize for interrupting, but the message itself said it was an urgent matter.¡±


    Bart took the telegram and then started to read it, and as he did the people watched as his face started to turn a shade of red as his anger was slowly mounting. He squished the message tightly in his hand and took a deep breath, before turning to the table and cleaning out all his winnings.


    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± he said, trying to act polite. ¡°I¡¯m going to be out of town for a few days. I shall return with in a week or so to pillage the rest of your fortunes. If you wish to avoid that, I suggest you use the time to improve your game. Until then, ta ta.¡±


    The people watched in shock as Bart walked right out of the saloon in the middle of the day, which was the first time he hadn¡¯t stayed there until closing. Whatever was in that telegram, upset the gambler so much that he cashed out and called it a day immediately. Instead of walking back to the hotel where he was staying, Bart walked over to the post office where the telegram was likely delivered to. He stormed into the room and walked right up to the counter. The man in the post office had translated the message so he knew exactly why Bart was there and was already sweating when he saw the angered scowl on the outlaw¡¯s face.


    ¡°What can I do for you, Mr. Jackson?¡± The postman asked.


    ¡°I need you to reply to the message,¡± Bart snarled, his anger coming through and metaphorically slapping him in the face.


    ¡°Yes, Sir.¡± The postman said as he pulled out a pad and paper. ¡°What reply would you like to send?¡±


    ¡°Tell the person who messaged me that I am leaving today,¡± Bart started as the postman was writing it all down. ¡°That I will be back in Montana in a few days. Tell them that if the children are not located and safely returned by the time I arrive, I am going to burn that entire town to the ground and kill every last one of them.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± The postman said as he stopped writing.


    ¡°You heard me,¡± Bart said, his voice not stuttering. ¡°If the children are not returned by the time I get there, I¡¯m going to kill them all.¡±


    ¡°Oh my god,¡± the postman said, his voice wavering.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t send my message,¡± Bart said as he drew his gun, and pointed it at the Postman¡¯s head, ¡°Then you die first. Understood?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sir.¡± The Postman said, ¡°I¡¯m not using sending out these kind of messages. You¡¯re threatening to kill people.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sending a warning,¡± Bart corrected him. ¡°If these people value their lives, they will heed it and return what is mine or face the consequences. I think that¡¯s pretty fair to give them a week to figure things out, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Actually,¡± the postman said, gulping rather loudly, ¡°That does sound rather fair.¡±


    ¡°Sending the message,¡± Bart said, cocking his pistol. ¡°Right now.¡±


    Bart watched as the Postman did as he was told and sent his requested message back from where the other originated. He didn¡¯t even bother to wait for a response as he walked out of the post office and back to where he started his day, at the local hotel. Daisy was stilling bed and relaxing as Bart stormed back in and began to pack. She watched him with surprised as all of this was unexpected.


    ¡°Where are you going in such a hurry?¡± she asked him.


    ¡°Montana,¡± Bart said as he packed lightly, as he didn¡¯t want to put too much weight on his horse. ¡°I¡¯ve paid for this room for the next two weeks, so you can stay here if you like. I hope to return before that runs out. If I don¡¯t, you¡¯ll know why.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on in Montana?¡± Daisy asked.


    ¡°There are a lot of stupid people that need to be taught a lesson,¡± Bart said as he packed every gun that he had in the room.


    ¡°And what might that be?¡± Daisy inquired.


    ¡°That you don¡¯t fuck with Bart Jackson,¡± Bart said, with a mean scowl on his face. ¡°And you don¡¯t mess with my family.¡±


    ¡°Oh shit,¡± Daisy said, slightly surprised, ¡°Your family? Do you need me to come along?¡±


    ¡°I appreciate the thought,¡± Bart said, tipping his hat to her, ¡°But I might have to kill a lot of people, and you don¡¯t have the stomach for it.¡±


    ¡°Good luck them, gambler.¡± Daisy said, hoping he would return. He was good customer and a polite one as well. She hated to see him go.


    ¡°Not today, little lady.¡± Bart said, ¡°They messed with the bull, and now it¡¯s time to give them the horns.¡±


    ¡°Be safe, Bart.¡± Daisy said.


    Bart leaned over and kissed her forehead. ¡°I¡¯ll try my best, little lady.¡±


    She watched him as he picked up his bag and stormed out of the room. Compared to how he moseyed out the door earlier that day, she could tell there was a dedication in his steps now as he was on his way to do something significant and important. He was now a man on a mission, and heaven help the people who got in Bart Jackson¡¯s way.

 Chapter 4

    Bart was quick to take his belongs and secure them to his steed, as he was eager to get out of town as quickly as he possibly could. Yet before he mounted his horse, Bart got an idea and walked the steed down the street and tied him up in front of the general store he was already in earlier that day. The shopkeeper was surprised to see Bart stroll back in for the second time that day, as he assumed Bart would still be at the poker table at least until the sun went down.


    ¡°Mr. Jackson,¡± The shopkeeper said, still surprised. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±


    ¡°I need some general supplies,¡± Bart said as he strolled deeper into the store. ¡°I¡¯ll take some seeds, rice, and any hides if you have them.¡±


    ¡°Hides?¡± the shopkeeper repeated.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t studder,¡± Bart snarled, ¡°What kind of hides do you have?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I think we have some buffalo hides.¡± The shopkeeper answered, ¡°I don¡¯t have many but there isn¡¯t much demand for them around these parts.¡±


    ¡°Just let me know how many you have,¡± Bart asked again, a little flustered.


    ¡°About four or five,¡± The shopkeeper answered.


    Bart slapped some cash on the counter, ¡°I¡¯ll take them all.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Sir,¡± The shopkeeper said, taking the money off the counter.


    Bart grabbed a bag big enough to carry the hides and walked out after the keeper handed them over. He strapped the bag to the back of his saddle and mounted up and started to ride out of town. His plan was to keep playing in this little shitty mining town until he was no longer welcome, and then head south to another new town that was starting to show promise. Now he was heading north in the direction he never wanted to head back towards, but this time he had no choice. Fate had spit in his eye, and there were most likely a few stupid people that needed to be killed. The first thing he was going to have to do was find the person who sent the telegram and verify what it was claiming. There was a piece of the man that wanted this to be a joke or a mistake, but his gut was telling him otherwise, and it was seldom mistaken. It took Bart about half a day to make it to the creek, and after giving his horse a moment to drink and rest he kept heading up and was crossing the state line by sundown. Just after passing that, he found a nice pocket in the trees and set up a quiet, dark camp for the night. He lit no fires and used the hides he bought to stay warm while catching some sleep out in the frigid winds.


    The next morning, he packed the hides back up and was back on his horse and moving north as quickly as his horse could take him. Bart hadn¡¯t bumped into anyone since crossing the state line, but he knew why. He was taking a short cut to get to where he was going, as going around was going to take to damn long. As he rode up to a valley leading towards a river that would take him directly to where he was going, there was a surprise waiting for him. The Crow tribe was settling there, often following wherever the buffalo went. He was familiar with the Crow, also known as the Apsaalooke, as they were the first of the natives to settle in Montana before his people came over from Europe and royally fucked things up. While he was suddenly tempted to go back and take the long route, it was too late to reconsider as some of the men from the tribe were already on horses and riding up to greet the intruder. Bart responded only by holding him his hands and trying not to make any threatening motions.


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    ¡°Greetings,¡± Bart said, unsure if any of them knew what he was saying.


    The two men on their horses started to speak to one another, unaware that Bart was fluent in their language. He had done time for a heist in Dakota, one of the few times he was behind bars during his days. During his time in Dakota, he became acquainted with a fellow outlaw that used to be a member of their tribe, and to pass the time Bart learned their language. So, he sat there on his horse and eavesdropped on the two men discuss what to do with him.


    ¡°I say we kill him,¡± one of the men suggested. ¡°Take what¡¯s he¡¯s got and his horse!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t like that idea,¡± Bart replied, speaking in their tongue.


    The two men stopped talking and looked back at him.


    ¡°I would recommend speaking to your Chief, instead.¡± Bart said, aware of their customs as well. ¡°Tell him that I bring him tribute in exchange for passage.¡±


    ¡°Why would you do that?¡± The man asked.


    ¡°Because I am passing through your lands,¡± Bart answered, ¡°And I would prefer to do it with your permission so that I can carry on to conduct urgent business.¡±


    ¡°What kind of business?¡± the man on the other horse asked.


    ¡°The only kind that matters,¡± Bart answered, ¡°Family business. Tell him I said that.¡±


    One of the riders went back into the camp, and about several minutes later, five more men rode up on their horses to speak with Bart. It was plain to see that the oldest man riding up was their chief.


    ¡°They say you speak our words,¡± the chief started, ¡°How do you know it?¡±


    ¡°I was taught by someone who used to live in these areas,¡± Bart explained, ¡°We did it to pass the time but also because it gave us the ability to speak without anyone listening in that we didn¡¯t want poking their noses in. In exchange for teaching me, I protected him from people who wanted to give him a hard time.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t want to give him a hard time?¡± the chief asked.


    ¡°Prison is hard enough,¡± Bart replied, ¡°I had no desire to make it tougher on anyone else. He was also a good card player, and that made the time pass easier as well.¡±


    The old man smiled at him, and Bart suspected he knew why.


    ¡°My son said you were a very good player,¡± the old man said, ¡°I thank you for helping him out during what were difficult times for him. I thought I was never going to see him again.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a good man,¡± Bart confessed, ¡°I hope he is doing well since his return.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s off on a hunt,¡± The chief informed him, ¡°Is that why you are here?¡±


    ¡°It is not,¡± Bart admitted, ¡°I¡¯m on my way to Bannack and you know this is the quickest way to get there.¡±


    ¡°Something important going on I was told,¡± The old man inquired.


    ¡°There is,¡± Bart said, not eager to get into details. ¡°But I brought things with me, a small tribute so that I can pass through in peace.¡±


    ¡°What did you bring?¡± one of the other riders asked.


    ¡°I have rice and seeds,¡± Bart answered, ¡°And half a dozen hides. It¡¯s not much, but I was hoping it would be enough.¡±


    The old man watched as Bart handed the hides and supplies that he purchased at the general store over to one of the other riders.


    ¡°I thank you,¡± the old man started, ¡°You have my approval to pass through our lands. Do you have time to stop for a talk and something to smoke first?¡±


    ¡°I wish I did, but I cannot.¡± Bard answered, ¡°Perhaps on my return?¡±


    ¡°Very well, hopefully my son will be back from his hunt then¡± The Chief responded.


    ¡°I hope so too,¡± Bart agreed.


    ¡°Let this man through,¡± the chief instructed his men, ¡°But ride with him until he¡¯s clear of our lands.¡±


    Bart made a respectful nod and then watched as the chief and his men all rode back to town, leaving Bart with the two men that originally talked to him. They both rode with him as the went around the camp and for a few more miles until he was fully clear of their little town. He didn¡¯t take any offense to their precautions. Just as they were making it to another creek a few miles from their camp, one of them asked a question.


    ¡°Are you sad the chief¡¯s son wasn¡¯t here?¡± He asked.


    ¡°It would have been nice to see him,¡± Bart confessed, ¡°But I¡¯m glad he wasn¡¯t there. If he knew I was going back to Bannack, he would have tried to come with me. I prefer he didn¡¯t because I don¡¯t want to give those assholes an excuse to hassle your people.¡±


    ¡°Why are you going back?¡± the other rider asked.


    ¡°To kill people,¡± Bart answered honestly, ¡°And to rescue my child.¡±