Bullet in the Ass

The desert wind blew hard.

Jackson tightened the cinch on her stallion.

She swung into the saddle.

Annie mounted her mare. Tiny scrambled up behind her. He held on tight to her waist.

-Saddle up, Jackson said.

She spurred the stallion. They burst out of the stable.

They rode hard. The hooves pounded.

Jackson scanned the horizon.

A plume of dust rose in the distance. A lone rider, heading for jagged rocks. The Newcombe territory.

-There! Jackson shouted.

She pointed a gloved hand.

-Flank left, she barked. Cut him off before he reaches the rocks.

Annie pulled the reins. She veered the mare. Tiny held on.

Jackson leaned low over the stallion’s neck. She closed the gap.

The rider glanced back. It was Mike. His face was a pale blotch of panic.

Jackson cocked the hammers of her shotgun. The click-clack was loud in the dry air.

-Mike!, she roared.

Mike kicked his horse. He tried to run.

Annie raised her pistol. She didn't hesitate.

-You dirty son of a bitch! she yelled as she shot.

Mike’s horse screamed. It bucked wildly. It had taken a bullet in the ass.

Mike flew. He hit the earth with a thud.

Jackson reined in.

She hit the ground running.

Annie hopped down.

Tiny followed last.

-I hate hurting horses, Annie said. Their owners ain’t their fault.

-The horse’ll be fine, Jackson snapped. It’s the man who’s gonna answer.

She walked toward the writhing form in the dirt. She leveled the shotgun at his chest.

Mike groaned. He pushed himself up. His face was caked with dust.

He saw the barrels. He saw his wife’s eyes.

-Jackson… darlin’… he wheezed. You don’t understand the pressure.

-The only pressure I see is the one I’m about to put on this trigger, Jackson said.

Her finger tensed.

-Don’t you dare, she said. Not another damn lie.

She pulled the crumpled deed from her waistband. She held it out.

-You sold us out. You sold me out.

Annie stepped forward. She put her boot on the side of Mike’s face. She pressed down.

-Talk, vermin, Annie growled.

Mike spit dust. His eyes darted between them.

-Silas, he choked out.

-The land, he choked out. The Newcombe clan promised me a cut. A big cut.

-You was gonna steal our land? Annie yelled. She ground her heel harder.

Jackson’s hands trembled on the stock.

-I was going to take over for your dad. Beating this chump to death, Mike spat out, nodding to Tiny, was the first step. They had plans for you girl, to pin on him. Drive Silas into the kind of rage you lose your head, and your position over.

Jackson stared at him. The man she married.

-You’re a monster, she muttered.

-We weren’t all born with silver spoons, Jackson, Mike snarled. We would’ve had so much more. I thought you’d see reason.

Jackson’s expression went cold.

-Tie him, she whispered.

-What? Annie asked.

-Gag him, Jackson said. We’re draggin’ him back to town.

She looked at the horizon.

-Let the whole town see what their sheriff really is.

Tiny limped forward. He helped Annie bind Mike’s hands. They shoved a rag in his mouth.

They heaved him over Jackson’s saddle like a sack of grain.

Jackson stroked the horse’s neck.

-Let’s go, she said.

The ride back was long. Mike groaned on the saddle.

Jackson didn't look back. Her back was stiff. Her jaw was set.

The town appeared on the horizon. A dark stain against fading light.

They rode down the main street. Folks turned to stare.

The Sheriff. Slung like fresh-killed game.

Jackson pulled the stallion to a halt. Right in front of the jailhouse.

-Somebody fetch the deputy, she said.

The boy Jesse ran.

The deputy stumbled out. Nervous mustache, hint of liquor on the breath.

He saw the sheriff. His eyes went wide.

-Mrs. Miller? he asked. What in God’s name—.

Jackson dismounted.

-He’s yours now, she said.

She gestured to the lump on the horse.

-The law’s yours to uphold now, Deputy. See that he gets a fair… cell.

She turned her back on Mike.

She met Tiny’s eyes, then Annie’s.

Tiny squeezed Annie’s hand.

-It’s over, Bill, Annie whispered. It’s really over.

Jackson watched them and smiled faintly.

They returned to the saloon.

-I’m feeling mighty better thanks to your mending, Tiny told Jackson. But I reckon I still owe you for it.

Jackson smirked. She hooked her thumbs in her belt.

-Owe me? she asked.

She chuckled. She was tired.

-You can start by helpin’ me run this saloon.

She looked him over.

-Seems I’m short a bartender who ain’t wearin’ a jailhouse stripe.

Tiny smiled.

-You can trust me, ma’am, he said.

He looked at Annie.

-Should we stay?

Annie nodded.

Jackson poured a drink.

-Good, she said.

She slid the bottle across the bar.

-Welcome home.