“You seem like a reasonable man—” a flashed smirk, one as mean as Charlie could offer, “—so you must know you’re just one more bootlegger out in the middle of nowhere. I could’ve killed you, the tall fella, and your woman, in three quick shots before you would’ve even blinked… then stolen your truck. We both know that. Not a soul but your dandy cousin would have even known I was here.” Lips pursed, Charlie paused to shrug. “And tracking him down? Wouldn’t even be a challenge.”
The brute took a threatening step nearer. “I’m not in the mood to play games, son.”
Charlie’s demand was deliberate and harsh. “Give me what I want.”
“Matthew,” Alice called. “Nathaniel’s bleedin’!”
Shoving past the bounty hunter, Matthew rushed back inside, Charlie following to assure no stray bullets had hit the chained convict.
Shackled, Ronnie Pearson lay in a pile right where he’d been shoved down. Poking at him with a scuffed boot, the prisoner uncurled, and Charlie leaned down to haul him back into a chair.
Chained hands darted out, a piece of broken window glass carving right through the bounty hunter’s clothing.
Warmth soaked through a grimy undershirt in seconds, a great sting tightening Charlie’s breath. “Ronnie... you just broke rule number three.”
Ignoring Matthew, the waitress, and the bleeding Nathaniel, Charlie went straight to the wood burning stove to shove in the poker. Pulling a hunting knife from the holster at his waist, Charlie yanked Ronnie’s hands as far as the chains would allow. Like chopping off the head of a chicken, a finger was hacked away, and the madman’s cackles twisted into screams.
When it was done, the red-hot poker seared the wound, the sickening smell of burning flesh wafting about just like it would when Ronnie cooked on the electric chair. Standing over helpless prey, Charlie swiped up the severed digit, tossing it out the broken window with a very real threat. “Cross me again, and the next thing I cut off won’t be a finger.”
The intruders were dead and the prisoner dealt with, which just left the last issue. Charlie locked eyes on Matthew, the man watching with a look that said he might just raise his pistol after all.
Even if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered none. Matthew had no bullets left—Charlie had counted.
The bounty hunter hummed. “He’s losing a lot of blood.”
Nathaniel, his exposed shoulder leaking something awful, grunted. “And what do you know about it?”
“From the looks of it, a lot more than either of you.” Charlie’s attention went to Alice. “Pull a few tables together. Matthew, help me move him when she’s finished.” Feeling pretty fucking magnanimous, Charlie sneered. “You want that bullet out? I can get the job done and stitch you up clean.”
Following orders, Matthew managed Nathaniel’s weight until the wounded man was lying on a table in the light. Tools were called for, Alice scurrying around to gather what was needed.
Under the scruff, seeing Nathaniel without his filthy shirt, the resemblance between the two men was uncanny. “He your brother?”
A grunt and Matthew gave Charlie a look that warned he’d kill him if the stranger took so much as one misstep.
The handle of a wooden spoon tucked between Nathaniel’s teeth, Matthew braced the larger man. Alice held up a lamp, the light shaking until Charlie barked at the woman to hold the damn thing still. All and all, it wasn’t so bad. Once the shoulder was at the right angle, getting the bullet would be an easy in and out.
Sitting a hip on the table, Charlie took Nathaniel’s arm and wrapped the limb around a narrow midsection. The stranger’s gaze grew soft, Charlie whispering, “Look at me, Nathaniel.” The man obeyed. “You’re dipping your toes in cool water. The air smells of autumn and warm things. Breathe in and out real slow, real deep.” Charlie nodded when the man began to relax. “That’s right. Keep looking at me and try not to break any of my ribs.” The last words were matched with a disarming smile.
The second Nathaniel was about to chuckle, moonshine splashed the wound. Instead, he screamed, biting down on the wooden spoon. Quickly pulling off one glove, Charlie coated a slender fist in shine and reached right into the bleeding hole. Despite the jerking body, the stranger pinched the bullet, pulling it free, quick as lightning, tossing the bloody thing to clatter across the floor. Not bothering to wipe away bloody fingers, Charlie pulled that leather glove back on right quick.
More moonshine was spilled to disinfect the injury, a roaring Nathaniel clinging to the stranger’s hip, gripping so hard marks would be left behind.
Pressing a clean dishcloth to the hole to slow fresh bleeding, Charlie asked, “Can I sew you up without your brother holding you down?”
It took a few moments before Nathaniel swallowed and nodded.
“Keep breathing like I told you.”
A jabbing needle and tugging thread closed gaping skin. Once the final knot was tied and soft gauze covered tidy stitches, gloved fingers came to the man’s jaw and took the wooden spoon.
“Well done, soldier.” Carefully unwrapping Nathaniel’s arm from an aching middle, Charlie laid it across the man’s ribs. “You’ll need to keep it in a sling for a few weeks.”
“You’re bleedin’,” Nathaniel managed, glancing to the blooming red stained on his impromptu medic’s coat.
Charlie’s warped voice replaced the softer tones no longer necessary. “Ain’t nothing, just a scratch.”
Work done, Charlie walked away and left the others to sort themselves out. In a measure of kindness and a silent act of gratitude, a shaken Alice moved towards the kitchen, found some wholesome food and brought it to the stranger. In place of the canned soup trash from before, a plate of cold ham and biscuits was given. Gift on the table, Matthew led her upstairs without another word.