Katana and the Peacemaker

Chapter Three

… To Worse…



“Okay… now,” Trigger warned quickly, kneeling next to Billy, piercing the tip of his knife into the skin near the young man’s eye, and digging out one of the splinters lodged there.



“AHHHH!!! FUCK!! AH, GOD! SH – FUCK! AGGGHHHH!!!” came the inevitable torrent of screams and curses. Billy writhed in excruciating pain from where he lay on a large slab of stone beside a towering post of some sort, his cries echoing across the pitch-black landscape and up to the cloudy starless skies above.



The only light afforded to Trigger to view his handiwork with and not accidentally stab Billy’s eye was emanating from a small lantern he held with clenched teeth by the handle. His hands were busy, one wielding the knife and the other holding Billy by the chin to keep his head from thrashing too much.



Eastwood was behind Billy and held the young man’s arms firmly down to the rock to prevent him from moving too much. He had his elbow firmly pressing down on his throat and one knee on the side of his head to keep Billy’s head from thrashing about as well.



Trigger had the splinter out soon enough and threw it to the ground.



“Alright, I’m done. Now, quit screamin’, you big baby.”



Eastwood removed his arms and Billy sprung up into a sitting position and cringed, holding the bleeding side of his face in his hands and groaning loudly.



“Fuck…” the young man grumbled, “It won’t gonna get infected, will it?”



Trigger shrugged. “You better hope not. Don’t want that eye fallin’ out, now.”



“What, my left eye? Wouldn’t matter. Can’t see shit out of it anyhow.”



Trigger arched an eyebrow upon hearing that. “What?”



“I’m blind in my left eye, jackass,” Billy groaned in annoyance.



“You never told me that.”



“You never asked.”



“How the hell’d that happen?”



“Same as always. Pissed someone off an’ got my comeuppance. Used to be colorblind in both eyes for as long as I can remember till I got blinded in my left eye.” Letting go of his face, Billy asked, “Either o’ you guys got a quirley? I need a smoke.”



Both Trigger and Eastwood shook their heads.



“Fuck,” the young man griped under his breath.



“Well, if we can get a fire goin’, I could heat up a cup of Arbuckle’s,” Trigger said.



Eastwood erected himself to full height and said, “Well, I ain’t stayin’, so… fork over my share of the money, an’ don’t chisel me, you hear?”



Nodding, Trigger opened the cashbox placed beside Billy and removed a fistful of the certificates, which he counted through as quickly as a poker tournament manager before handing them neatly to the older man. Eastwood started going through them.



Trigger looked a little bemused. “What the hell you countin’ it for? It’s all there.”



“If I’m gonna be lightin’ a shuck to the Old States, I wanna be sure I got the whole amount… Met too many bunko artists in my time to just take a fistful o’ dollars without countin’ it. I’m just copperin’ my bets.”



“Well, ain’t you the croaker… So what’re you gonna do?” Billy inquired.



Eastwood finished counting and reached under his coat to place the money into a pocket in his sheepskin leather vest. “Retire.”



Billy chortled a little. “You? Retire? The way Dick told it, you were ‘the goddamndest meanest son of a bitch that ever lived.’ Said you’re cold as the snow an’ ain’t got no weak nerve nor fear.”



“I ain’t gonna be like that no more… Ain’t gonna be no crazy killin’ fool,” Eastwood said, more to himself, it seemed, than to Billy.



“Trigger, can you believe this –”



“Billy, I’m leavin’, too,” Trigger interrupted, his face gaunt-looking in the flickering lantern light as he handed Billy his share of the money and pocketed his own.



Billy never noticed how old his friend was getting until that very moment. It made him give a brief thought to his own age and how soon it would be before he looked similar to how Trigger appeared now. Just how long would it actually be until he started feeling the effects of age weighing down on him? He shook his head to clear the thought from his mind, as it was starting to bring up questions about whether he would even live long enough to grow old.



“Wha – What do you mean, leavin’?” he asked his friend incredulously.



Trigger stared wide-mouthed at Billy for several moments. “Are you serious? You can’t honestly wanna keep on goin’ like this… after that!!” He pointed in the direction they had ridden from.



Billy held up his hand in a gesture of pacification. “Alright, alright. Relax… We’ll lay low in Bodie for awhile, okay? Hell, when we get there, we’ll all have us a little toast to our dear departed comrades’ memories –”



“What if some are alive?” Trigger harshly. “They could be singin’ about all our rendezvous points. Fuck, they could be singin’ about us, Billy! Our aliases, where we drink, who we know, where we been, who we’re related to! You tellin’ me you haven’t thought about that?!”



“I didn’t get a chance to think! I was just focused on gettin’ the fuck outta there… an’ then you pried this shit from my face.” He touched a finger to his drying facial wounds for further emphasis.



“Well, start thinkin’, damn it.” Trigger retrieved both a match and cigarette from his coat and lit up.



Billy glared incredulously at the man. “I thought you said you were outta quirleys.”



“I lied.”



“Well, gimme one –”



Trigger snapped, “Hey! Didn’t I tell you to start thinkin’?!”



Billy exclaimed, “I think better when I smoke!”



Both men turned at the sound of one of the horses snorting, watching as Eastwood attempted to mount the animal from the left side. The beast kept moving to the right, causing the aging outlaw to stumble several times in his attempts before finally managing to throw a leg over and sit astride the pale-colored mare. Clutching the reins rather tightly, in spite of the pains in his old knuckles, he glanced back at the two bickering men while the horse impatiently moved back and forth under him.



“Damn animal,” he muttered, maintaining his grip on the reins. “Now… if you two got no objections, I’m gonna be high-tailin’ it outta here –”



Both Billy and Trigger held their hands up; Billy blurted out, “Now, wait a minute –”



“I ain’t waitin’, damn it!” he barked. “The sooner I get away from you two an’ this whole god-awful mess, the less chance they got of catchin’ me.” Nodding to Trigger and Billy, he continued, “I suggest you do the same. Those wounds’ll make you stick out like a couple of sore thumbs.” He then pointed to the post as Trigger held up the lantern to get a better look at it. It was a telegraphy post, with a long line of cables running from the top into the dark night.



Billy was certainly fazed by this revelation. “What the fuck? When’d they put these damn things in this area?”



“Does it matter? They’re sproutin’ up all over the country these days,” Eastwood said, holding his horse steady underneath him as best he could. “Telegram lines, railroads, barbed wire fences… Pinkertons…” Looking over his left shoulder, he continued, “Should be a town about forty miles that way, but they’ll surely start lookin’ for you there… Normally, I’d kill you both, but since neither one of you knows my name, I got nothin’ to worry about.”



He then tipped his hat to the two men and said, “Adios.” Kicking the horse with his spurs as he turned her around, both man and beast were galloping off in no time, the darkness of the night swallowing them up.



Billy watched him go, but then turned at the sound of another horse neighing.



Trigger was securing his blanket and baggage on his horse’s rump to be sure none of it fell off during what would be a hard ride. Turning to look back at Billy, he caught the young man glaring at him in the light illuminating his face from the lantern.



“So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?” Nodding twitchily and looking down to hide his pained expression and restrain the bitterness in his voice, Billy continued, “We been together six years, Trigger… In the beginning, it was just you an’ me before Dick an’ the others joined up. All o’ them are gone now, but you… you, my friend… you’re just gonna leave me for the buzzards, huh? Is that it?”



Trigger groaned, rubbing his forehead in troubled thought. “Billy, after all the shit that happened today, if we keep on goin’ like this… there’s only one outcome for that: By a noose, dead as the Reno Brothers. I gotta go straight, Billy, for my kids… Find myself a decent an’ honest livin’… maybe in dry goods or a general store in San Francisco… or maybe law enforcement.”



Billy scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. This could not be happening.



Looking down and kicking dirt at a garter snake to frighten it off, Trigger added, “You, uh… can come with me if you want… Storeowner needs a helpin’ hand –”



“Fuck you,” Billy retorted, turning his back to Trigger while moving to his horse.



“They’re gonna kill you, Billy,” Trigger stated matter-of-factly.



“I can take care o’ myself just fine,” Billy countered without looking back.



“Bullshit. Remember that Mexican you claimed you killed?”



Billy halted in his tracks, but did not look back at his friend, who proceeded to walk toward him from behind.



“An’ the Chinaman an’ them two bad men from the Pow Wow Saloon?”



Billy’s fists clenched upon realization where Trigger was going with this.



Trigger halted just a few feet behind the young man, dropping his spent cigarette to the ground after a final exhale of smoke and crushing it under his heel.



“I checked, Billy… The Mexican an’ the chink are still alive… As for them two bad men, you hit ’em both over the heads with a whiskey bottle an’ ran off. They’re still alive, too… an’, frankly, quite pissed…”



So Trigger had discovered all of Billy’s daring and dangerous exploits had all been lies. He felt his head lower and his shoulders attempt to cave in, like a turtle trying to hide within its shell. Biting his lip nervously and feeling as though he were shrinking under what he perceived as a berating voice from the only friend he had ever really had, Billy turned and attempted to face him, but his eyes remained fixed on his boots.



Folding his arms, the older man sighed, “Billy… how the hell’re you gonna take care o’ yourself on the run if you’ve never killed anyone before? Those men chasin’ us are definitely not the kind to hesitate to kill. Just come with me an’ we can start over in Canada or Mexico or some damn place –”



“Won’t work,” Billy responded, raising his head. “Josey Wales an’ Billy the Kid tried for Mexico an’ Chief Joseph tried for Canada. Remember what happened to them? Billy an’ Josey are dead an’ Joseph’s on some reservation in Indian Territory, Trigger.”



“Yeah, but they weren’t exactly tryin’ to hide their identities, were they? Billy, there are times when you gotta adapt. These are those times, so let’s just call it good with a hundred thousand each an’ make tracks.”



A long hollow pause ensued, permeated by the humming of the lantern light.



“I can’t, Trigger,” came the simple answer.



Heaving as heavy as a sigh as though he were forcing a boulder’s weight from his shoulders, the aging man looked the younger man dead in the eye with the focus of a rattlesnake.



“Fine… Go ahead an’ get yourself killed. I got kids to think about.”



Turning back to his horse, Trigger lurched and hauled his body up onto the saddle, holding the reins tight and securing his boots in the stirrups.



Heading back to his own horse and mounting her, after some similar difficulty to Eastwood’s troubles with lifting himself onto his horse, Billy tipped his hat as a final farewell to his comrade after six years of robbing together.



“I know a guy in Los Angeles who asked me if I wanted to go with him to, uh… Japan or some damn place. Guess I might take him up on that offer if it’s still on the table. Maybe robbin’ chinks’ll be easier than the pickin’s here,” he stated.



Nodding in regret, Trigger tipped his hat in return and spun the horse around before proceeding to ride off, at first at a trotting pace. He looked back and shouted, “Adios, amigo!” Then he broke out in a full-on gallop into the dark night.



So they were still “amigos” after all that happened. That thought brought Billy enough contentment for now as he spun his horse around and sped off in the opposite direction, a part of him hoping he would see his friend again, like a couple magnets coming together again.