Left for Dead
by Matthew Pizzolato
Flames crackled on the roof of the cabin and smoke seeped inside. Fire licked its way across the roof to the walls. Roy Sullivan slammed open the door and ran outside. He had to get to the well.
He froze and his eyes widened. Three men stood before him. This couldn’t be happening.
“I told you to keep your hands off my woman,” a burly man with a red beard said.
“She’s not your woman, Marcus,” Roy said. “She’s my wife now.” Roy had found Jessica four years ago and she had cured him of his evil ways. Roy had been a member of Marcus’ gang at the time and headed down the wrong path.
“I warned you,” Marcus said. “Now you are going to pay for it.” His hand fell to the pistol belted around his ample waist.
“What’s going on?” Jessica said. She had followed him to the doorway. There was a sharp inhalation of breath.
“Go back inside,” Roy said without turning his head. This was going to get ugly. Just when things had started going his way. The ranch was finally starting to pay off and Jessica had told him the day before that she was pregnant with their first child.
Marcus laughed and the two men with him spread out. Their hands hovered over the guns on their hips. “Now!” Marcus said. All three men reached for their guns.
Roy palmed his gun and fired. His first shot missed. He never got another.
The bullet struck Roy a glancing blow on the head. Blackness descended upon him. His wife’s screams and evil sounding laughter permeated his brain.
His eyelids fluttered open. Roy rolled onto his stomach and held his head in his hands. Pain rocketed through his entire body. His head throbbed incessantly. What had happened to him? He felt the side of his head. It was tacky with dried blood and his blond hair was matted to his skull.
He had been shot. That much he knew. His thoughts banged around his mind but he couldn’t dab a loop on any of them. He was drunk with pain.
The sound of crackling flames and the scent of smoke assailed his nostrils. He inhaled and forcing himself to a sitting position blinked several times.
The image of a red bearded man laughing formulated in his mind. Memory flooded back. Marcus had returned. He must have escaped from Yuma prison. How could he have found them?
Marcus and his men had shot him. Roy looked around frantically. The sudden turning of his head sent shock waves of pain through him and he moaned. There was no one in sight. His wife? Where was she?
He scrambled to his feet. The roof of his cabin collapsed and flame shot skyward. He watched as everything he owned went up in flames. Why did this happen to him?
He backed away from the intense heat of the fire. He needed water. He had to clean himself up. Then he would rescue Jessica. Roy stumbled to the barn. His horse was still in the stall. Marcus and his men must have forgotten about it.
There was a water hole only a few miles away. He led the black stallion from the barn and slung the saddle over him. The hoof beats caused bolts of pain to his head. He ignored them. Not much further now. He climbed from the saddle and waded to the pool. He washed the blood from his head.
An hour later, he rode into town. Its false-fronted buildings faced each other across a single street. Roy tied his horse in front of the saloon and stepping onto the boardwalk, marched inside.
He paused a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimness within. An old graybeard banged the piano keys in the corner while five men played a game of poker. Roy strode to the bar.
“What brings you to the town of Little Oak?” the bartender asked. He swiped a dirty rag around the inside of a glass.
“Trailing a man. Big man with a red beard. Seen him?” Roy asked.
The bartender paused before answering. “No, can’t say as I have.”
“That so?” Roy asked. “His name is Marcus. Him and two others kidnapped my wife.”
The bartender focused on the glass he was cleaning. “I haven’t seen no one like that.”
There was no sense in pressing the matter. The bartender wasn’t going to talk. “How’s for a shot of whiskey?” Roy asked.
“Sure thing,” the bartender said. He poured Roy a shot and shuffled to the other end of the bar.
Roy stared into the amber colored liquid and took a ragged breath. Worry gnawed at his stomach like a dog with a bone. If anything happened to Jessica, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. If he was going to get his wife back, chances were he was going to have to kill someone. And that was something that he had never done before. Did he have it in him to kill?
Roy downed his shot and leaning against the bar, surveyed the room. The five poker players were cowhands and there were several big cow outfits around.
One of the players threw in his hand. “That’s all for me,” he said and ambled to the bar.
“Howdy,” Roy said.
The man nodded and ordered a shot. “I heard you asking about that man Marcus. I seen him.” He downed his whiskey.
“Where at?” Roy asked.
“Headed across No-Man’s flat to Roanoke.”
“Thanks,” Roy said. He tossed a coin on the bar. “Have another drink on me.” He strode from the saloon and jumped onto his horse.
Roy’s stomach was tight with a sense of urgency. If Marcus harmed a single blond hair on Jessica’s head— He took a couple of deep breaths. It shouldn’t take him but a couple of hours to get there. Hunger rumbled in his stomach and he considered how one of his wife’s pecan pies would taste about now. He smiled as he remembered the last picnic they had gone on together.
Roanoke was an old ghost town. It had been deserted for decades. About a mile from the ghost town, he staked out his horse in a secluded spot. Staying undercover as best he could, he approached slowly. Smoke rose from the chimney of a dilapidated building and Roy crawled close.
He had to be careful. The slightest noise could be heard through those flimsy walls. He put his ear against the building.
“What’s taking so long with that food, woman?” Marcus said. “Hurry it up.”
“I am. It won’t cook itself,” Jessica said.
A loud cracking sound reached Roy’s ear.
“That’ll teach you some manners,” Marcus said.
“My husband will kill you for that,” Jessica said.
“Don’t beat her up too much, boss,” a voice said. “Save her for tonight.”
All three men inside laughed.
Roy ground his teeth and clenched his fists. He wanted to charge in there and kill all of them. But three on one hadn’t worked so well before. He had to even odds a little first.
He stole silently around the side of the building. A window beckoned to him and he glanced inside.
Jessica stirred a pot over a fire. The three men sat at a table and passed around a bottle of whiskey.
He pulled his head away from the window. If only he could get Jessica’s attention. He had to do something before nightfall.
He looked in the window again. Jessica stared right at him. Her eyes widened but she gave no other sign of recognition.
He ducked under the window and slipped to the front corner of the building. He heard them talking.
“Hey. Where do you think you are going?” Marcus said.
“I have to visit the outhouse, if you must know,” Jessica said.
“Go with her, Billy. Make sure she don’t escape,” Marcus said.
Roy cursed under his breath. What should he do? If he shot the one that came out with Jessica it would alert the others.
He found a loose wood plank about three feet long in the boardwalk. He snatched it and hid behind the corner.
Footsteps clanked on the boardwalk. Jessica stepped down in front of him and kept walking. Billy stepped down off the boardwalk behind her.
Roy swung the plank. The business end connected solidly with Billy’s head and the man crumpled to the ground.
Jessica turned to Roy and smiled. He put his finger to his lips. She squeezed his hands. “I knew you would find me,” she whispered. “Now what?”
“Hide in another building. I’ll find you later,” Roy said.
Jessica ran across the street while Roy waited by the corner and listened to the men talking inside. They played poker.
“Give me two cards,” the other man said.
“What’s taking her so long?” Marcus asked.
“I’ll find out.”
Chair legs scrapped the floor. Footsteps approached and stopped.
“Billy!” the man exclaimed. He jumped off the boardwalk.
Roy swung the plank. It struck the man across the stomach and he double over.
Roy swung again and hit him over the back of the head. The man collapsed in a heap.
“What is it?” Marcus called from inside. “Billy? Jed? What’s going on out there?”
Roy smiled and strode to the middle of the street. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. When Marcus came out here, he would have to kill the man. There was no other alternative. “Marcus Dunning! I’m calling you out!”
“Who is it?”
“It’s Roy. Get out here, you yellow-bellied coward.”
Marcus stomped from the building and stood on the boardwalk. “I’ll show you who the coward is.” He stepped down and faced Roy in the street.
Roy’s stomach tightened and a chill ran up his spine. “You don’t have your two boys to back you up,” he said.
“I never needed them two half-wits,” Marcus said. He grinned. “I’m going to enjoy your wife tonight.” He paused. “Say when.”
Roy ground his teeth and focused his attention on Marcus’ right shoulder. Movement there would indicate the man was beginning his draw. Roy had been shot at plenty of times before but had never killed a man. Marcus’ shoulder dipped and his gun rose.
Panic gripped Roy. The phrase, “Thou shall not kill,” flashed through his mind. If he stood there, not only would he die, but his Jessica would as well.
Roy watched as Marcus’s gun came level. It belched flame and kicked up dust between them. Marcus triggered another shot and Roy felt a hammer blow in his leg.
Then Roy’s gun bucked in his hand. He didn’t recall drawing it.
Marcus’s head snapped back and his hat flew off. A neat little blue hole appeared between his eyes. The man sprawled onto his shoulder blades and a puff of dust arose.
A gunshot sounded and a bullet whizzed past his head. Roy turned and fired. Billy was on his feet and snapped another shot at Roy. Billy staggered backward suddenly and sat down.
Billy clutched his chest with both hands. “It’s not suppose to happen this way.” Blood seeped from his mouth and he fell over backward.
The man that he had hit in the back of the head had a crushed skull. Roy realized that he was responsible for killing three men. What would his mother think of him? Footsteps sounded behind him and he spun, ready to fire.
Jessica stopped suddenly. “It’s just me.”
Roy exhaled heavily and stared down at the men. For some reason he felt no remorse. He was alive and so was his Jessica.
She glanced at his thigh. “Your hurt,” she said.
“It’s just a flesh wound. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Roy nodded. “Well, there ain’t much to go back to, but at least we have each other.”
Jessica smiled. “We can always build another cabin.”
He took her hand and they walked down the street.
Matthew Pizzolato is a graduate of Long Ridge Writers Group where he has completed a short story writing and a novel writing course. His work has appeared online in The Copperfield Review. He has had stories accepted for publication in upcoming issues of The Storyteller and The Pink Chameleon. Contact Matthew.
