literature

Gunslinger: pt 2

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"Papa says you got to teach me how to shoot better, Alice." He held up the pistol and smiled as innocently as he could.

She eyed her brother narrowly as she snatched her pistol from his hands and slipped it into her belt. "Brandon, I don't think you're really ready to shoot a gun," she intoned carefully. He was staring up at her with sparkling blue eyes that were half demanding, and half pleading. It was almost a disturbing sight. Despite being only three years younger than she was, he still acted like a little boy rather than a man. Uncomfortable, Alice turned away and grunted as she hoisted a crate onto the lip of the wagon. As they did every two weeks or so, the folks from the next ranch over arrived to buy supplies from the Munros. The Davidsons were still building up their own farm, and were in desperate need of seed and livestock.

"But, Alice, Papa said you're the best shot this side of Utah. Can't you help me, maybe a little? I can't even shoot the barn." Brandon sighed and brushed his dark brown hair out of his face. Despite being early in the morning, with a pale blue sky and a cool breeze, beads of sweat already dotted his pale forehead from the workout of lifting crates of supplies for the Davidsons.

Alice leaned her elbows on the crate, pausing before shoving it further into the bed of the wagon. "Brandon, do I look like I got the time right now to teach you how to shoot? Once we're finished up here, maybe I'll help you out. But can we just work right now, please?"

Brandon's forehead scrunched and he backed up. "Yeah, fine. I'll hold you to that, Alice," he promised, before turning and jogging off to help load up the carts of produce.

Alice watched him go, kicking up dust as he went. With a heavy sigh, she wiped her brow with her sleeve and braced her booted toes on the dirt as she shoved the crate into the wagon bed so the oldest Davidson boy could drag it against its fellows. "Is that the last of those ones?" she asked, nodding at the small stack of wooden boxes.

The boy plunked onto the closest crate with an exhausted groan. "Yeah, I reckon it is, Miss Munro. Your pa will probably need your help with the chickens in the pen there, miss. Let me take care of these right now." He smiled slightly and waved vaguely toward the chicken coop where Stuart and Ron Davidson were collecting the chickens being purchased by the other homesteaders.

"I can do that, Mr Davidson. Good luck with those crates," she said, and pushed away from the wagon. Her tough leather boots crunched on the bumpy dirt road shooting across the ranch as she wandered over to the chicken coop. Laughter and companionable remarks floated to her ears, and as she rounded a corner she spotted Stuart and Ron crouched over, hooting with chuckles as the two youngest Davidson boys chased the poultry around the coop and tried to round them up. The chickens screamed and squawked as they fluttered away from the grabby fingers of the two little boys; multicolour feathers floated to the ground as the birds desperately fled.

She laughed as she came up behind her father and Mr Davidson. "Those boys having a hard time, Mr Davidson?" she asked, smirking as one of the boys' fingers just grazed the glossy tail feathers before the chicken cawed and booked it to the other side of the pen.

Ron smiled and glanced back at her. "Seems like it, Miss Munro. We've got it covered, though."

Stuart turned back, a smile deepening the lines already etched across his suntanned face. "Alice, could you take your mama, David, and Joseph and go put the cattle out on the pasture? Me and Brandon are going to stay here and help finish up with the Davidsons."

She nodded and cast one last look at the boys in the coop as the youngest finally snatched a chicken and grasped it tightly to his tiny chest in triumphant glory. "Do they know we're going to herd 'em out, or am I going to have to round them up too?"

"They know. They're probably getting the horses ready in the barn, if you want to join them."

Alice jogged to the barn, eager to start driving the cattle out to the pasture to graze for the day. Just as she reached the door of the barn, David walked out, holding the reins of his horse and hers in his hand.

"Here you are, Miss Munro," he said, handing over the straps of leather. Alice took them and quietly thanked him before clambering into the saddle. "You ready to bring them out?" he asked, smiling as he mounted and steered his steed toward the corral.

"You know I always am, Mr McIlroy," she returned teasingly. Once Joseph Walker and her mother mounted their horses, the two of them led the party of four to the corral to lead the cattle out. The bellows and brays of the animals filled the cool morning air as they opened the fence gate to release the herd. Alice called to the back of the herd, where Joseph and her mother where ushering the cattle forward by swooping their horses back and forth, trapping the animals in an invisible circle.

David and Alice took the front, trotting on either side of the herd to lead the cattle. Together, they brought them out of the pen and onto the road through the ranch.

As they brought the herd around to face the right direction, David called, "I see you got your gun there, Miss Munro. Planning on doing a little hunting?"

Alice glanced down at her waist, having completely forgotten that Brandon had brought her the pistol so she could teach him to shoot. "No, not really, but I guess we could get a few more rabbits while we're out."

David laughed and shook his head as he spurred his horse forward. "Because we don't got enough of them already, eh, Miss Munro?" he joked, smirking behind his beard.

Alice giggled and yipped to encourage her horse onward.

Hooves thudded noisily over the dirt and tromped grass as the horses and cattle ran out over the hills and rocks to the hilly pasture that was their favourite grazing spot. As the hour passed and the sun rose higher in the sky, the beginnings of the summer heat blew in from the south, heating their faces and blowing little storms of dirt over the grass and shrubs. By the time they reached the perimeter of the pasture, Alice was already covered in a light film of dust, and her face was stretched into a grin.

But it faltered as soon as her horse slowed and her eyes fell upon the two men blocking the path before them.

His narrow face was twisted into a childish smirk, and narrowed dark brown eyes stared into her as she yanked her horse to a stop so abrupt it made him grunt in protest. The man was perched atop a sleek palomino, a complete contrast to his olive skin and messy black hair. He looked too tall and too thin to be sitting comfortably on the horse, unlike the man beside him, who seemed perfectly at home on his appaloosa.

"Who're you?" David shouted, bringing his horse up so he was close to Alice. His presence made her fluttery heart ease somewhat, but her mind was still frantically going over every possible outcome to the situation. If there even was a situation. The men could be strangers to this land, and just looking for some directions.

But that smirk told her otherwise.

The grinning man pulled a few steps forward, and his horse whinnied, flicking its beautiful mane back and forth. "John Fox, sir," he replied slowly, tipping his dirty black hat. "And my associate, Mr Richard Jackson." He nodded to the shorter, squatter man seated impassively on his speckled horse. "And who're you?"

"David McIlroy. What do you want?"

The man, John Fox, clucked his tongue and shook his head. "Not so fast, Mr McIlroy," he said teasingly. "Who're all of you?"

Alice felt David's eyes on her. Exhaling shakily, she said, "Alice Munro."

Behind her, two voices rose up, one after another.

"Joseph Walker."

"Anna Munro."

"All right. That's better." The man nodded to his associate, and the squat man slowly returned the gesture, never taking his eyes from the four ranchers. "Where are you taking these here cattle?"

"What business of yours is that?" David demanded. Alice glanced covertly his way. Though outwardly fairly calm, she could see his jaw clenching nervously; his lip was twitching as if he had more to say, but somehow managed to refrain from saying it.

"Well." John Fox's boyish smile stretched wider, and his horse seemed to chuckle with him as it trotted forward several steps. "It's our business because we're here to finish up the drive for you."

Alice's breath escaped her in a shuddering whoosh. Rustlers. The whole world seemed to cool by several degrees, and her knees trembled on either side of her horse.

"Fuck me," David spat, and despite the seriousness of the situation, Alice twitched in surprise. "You've got to be the most polite goddamn rustlers in the west."

"I wish our wanted posters had that on 'em," the man laughed. "We'd probably have a few more takers for the prize."

Alice gawked. Whatever that meant.

John Fox whistled sharply, and all around the herd more men on horses came into view. "Now see here, Mr McIlroy," he said, ever smiling and cheerful, "if you want to give up these cattle nicely, that makes our lives and yours a whole lot easier. And longer lasting, in your case. So if the four of you could just back off and give my boys some room…" He released one hand from the reins of his horse to wave them away.

Alice was frozen to the spot for several beats until David whispered, "Do as he says, Alice. Please do everything he says."

She realized belatedly, after nodding stiffly and urging her horse away from the herd, that it was the first time he had called her by her Christian name.

Alice glanced over her shoulder. David and Joseph were nosing their horses to the side of the road, just as she did, but her mother remained sturdy, her steed snorting and pacing on the dirt as she held it firm.

"Mama," Alice whispered, staring at her mother's severe expression.

The rustler jabbed his heels into his horse's flank, and the palomino grunted before sauntering forward, closer to Anna. Pulling up the brim of his hat to get a better look, his smirk grew. "Mrs Munro, you really are going to want to listen to your friend Mr McIlroy there and get out of the way," he advised sweetly. "It'll really speed things up here."

Anna lifted her chin, her eyes sharp and cold as she looked at him. "You get out of here, Mr Fox. We been working this land for generations, and I ain't letting you just take my family's livelihood like the good Lord just gone and said so."

John Fox sneered and moved close enough so the two horses were nose to nose. Alice watched, her heart thudding in her ears, reverberating painfully through the hollow confines of her mind. Her mother continued to stare stoically at him, her fear smothered and invisible. "Who told you that the good Lord didn't tell me that these here cattle are mine for the taking, hm? What made you the almighty prophet of His good wisdom?" Anna didn't answer, and his sneer grew. "Richard, boys," he said, raising his voice to gather the attention of the band of rustlers; his eyes never moved from Anna's face, "get ready to take 'em in."

Very discreetly, the rustler reached into the inside pocket of his duster. Alice's brows beetled together as she watched, but when she saw the flash of sunlight glinting off the metal barrel of a revolver, her mind went blank and she barely had time to scream before the report deafened her and her horse shrieked and reared in terror.

"Alice, go!"

She didn't hesitate, not even to figure out who had said it. Yanking hard on the reins, she veered roughly to the left and tore back down the path toward the ranch. Hurried footsteps thumped on the packed dirt road behind her, and horses whinnied and panted from fright as they ripped away.

The wind screamed past as she dug her heels into her horse's sides, freezing the tears that streamed freely down her cheeks. Behind her, the cattle grunted and lowed as the rustlers rounded them up.

Their cattle. Their livelihood. Gone. Taken by criminals.

She had no idea how many minutes had passed before David cut her off. Dust flew up in clouds around their horses, making them shake their manes and grunt in distaste, but she stopped and stared at him, shivering with fear.

David jumped off his horse and marched up to her. Taking her around the waist, he pulled her bodily from the saddle. As soon as her feet touched solid ground, she collapsed into David's arms, her knees instantly buckling under the weight of the day.

He lowered her to the ground and pulled her into his lap. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her face into his shirt and inhaled deeply. The smell of dirt, sun, and sweat calmed her, and she managed to soothe her frantic mind long enough to wipe her face and look up at him. His heavy brown brows were drawn together, and new lines were carved with dirt through his face; his green eyes were shadowed and dull, listless compared to their usual lustre.

Alice weakly gripped the front of his shirt and leaned her head on his shoulder. Her jaw trembled; she was vaguely aware that her whole body was trembling, even as David gently rocked her back and forth. "He shot my mama," she mumbled wetly.

David's arms tightened around her shoulders, and she felt him rest his cheek on her head. "He did," he returned, just as quietly. "Alice, darling, you doing okay?"

"We gotta go tell Papa." But she didn't move. Her mind was still a blank haze, buzzing in silence as she relived the same moment over and over in her mind's eyes—John Fox swiftly removing his gun from his duster and shooting it in one smooth movement.

"Oh, God, Alice."

"Jesus Christ, David, what in the fuck just happened?" Joseph's horse grunted and shuffled nearby as his rider dismounted and crunched toward them. Alice noted absently that she thought it was the most she had ever heard him say in one go.

"What're we gonna say to Stuart? Goddamn man's a widower with no livestock to earn a buck off!"

Alice flinched at the tone to his voice and buried her face deeper into David's shoulder.

"Have a heart, Joseph. For now, we just got to get back to the ranch. C'mon." He lifted Alice to her feet, and using him as a crutch of support, she mounted her horse and somehow made the trek back to the ranch.





A gentle knock came at her door. Alice rolled onto her side and brushed her hair from her face, finally pulling her blank gaze from the curtained window beside her bed. "Come in," she said, just loud enough for someone in the hallway to hear.

There was a moment of nothing, then the door creaked open and David slipped into her room. "May I come in, Miss Munro?"

"Please," she mumbled, turning her attention back to the flowery curtains shielding her face from the sunlight. Her mother had sewn the curtains. The paisley design was one of her favourites. "Please just call me Alice. I don't mind much, y'know."

A small smile sprang up behind his trimmed beard. "Okay, Alice. Don't change my intent much though."

She slowly, as with extreme care, tucked a few stray pieces of chestnut hair behind her ear. "Of course. Come in."

"How're you holding up?" The scrape of her wooden rocking chair over the floor, closer to her bed, then he murmured, "I know this's got to be hard for you."

She tugged her quilt further up so it covered her up to her chin. Her back was to David, so she was facing the wall and the window, but she knew that he was watching her. Ducking her chin so she was ninety percent buried beneath her warm pile of blankets, she sighed and said, "I'm okay. Thanks for the concern, Mr McIlroy."

"Now, darling, if I'm gonna be calling you Alice, you're gonna call me David."

She smiled at that, and rolled back to face him. He was perched on the edge of her rocking chair, pulled up beside the bed, with his hands clasped together on his knees; his green eyes were gazing intently at her, passionate in a very David McIlroy way. "All right, David. How's Papa doing?"

"He's doing okay." David's knees jiggled; his boots tapped on the wooden floor to a soft beat. "Joseph's helping him take care of the ranch. They rounded up some of the cattle that were left behind this morning, and your daddy's finally got Rebecca helping out with the chores."

Alice smiled bitterly. "It took this to get her to help out? Goddamn girl."

"Hey now." David's mouth curled up into a little smile. "You ain't the type of girl to go 'round swearing now, Alice. You a sweet God-fearing thing, just like your mama told you."

Alice sighed and pressed the side of her face into her pillow. "Just like Mama raised me to be," she mumbled, shaking her head. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall. "I'll kill that bastard if it's the last thing I do. I promise you that, David McIlroy."

"Well, girl, I'll admit you're the best shot a girl's got in probably the whole country, but you ain't no killer, Alice Munro. That'll get you in trouble good, and your daddy needs you here to help him, especially now that your mama's gone. We all got to pull extra weight now, to make up for her being gone."

She rubbed her eyes with her fist and curled up, looking down at her sheets. When she was still little, before Rebecca and Brandon had been born, she and Mama and Papa had spent a week stitching the squares of the quilt together, from pieces of old, torn clothes. "This ain't fair, David."

"Life ain't fair, Alice." He gave her a contemplative look, then shifted from the rocking chair to the edge of her bed. The mattress squeaked under his weight; Alice sat up, pulling the blanket with her to cover her nightdress up to her shoulders. David sighed softly and scrubbed his sun-browned hand over his beard. "Anytime you need to talk, darling, 'bout anything you want, you know you can come to me."

"I know, and thank you. But I think I just need to be alone for a little while." It had only been five days since John Fox and his band of rustlers had stolen their cattle and killed her mother, but Alice had barely moved from her bed. She remained in her nightdress, only leaving to eat once or twice a day, or help her father with minor chores around the ranch. David, Joseph and Brandon had done the heavy lifting for the most part, and everyone except for Rebecca seemed to understand and leave Alice be. She had witnessed the murder of her mother at the hands of a wanted criminal, after all.

David nodded and pulled her into a quick hug. Alice leaned into it, grateful for his presence. "I understand. You just take it slow, darling. I'll make sure Rebecca don't give you too much of a hard time."

Alice smiled as he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "You're a nice fellow, David. Thank you."

He winked warmly at her and rose from her bedside. Alice curled her knees to her chest and watched until the door eased shut behind him with a wooden click. As soon as he was gone, she let out a shaky breath and slumped back in her blankets, tears slipping freely from her eyes.
The life of Alice Munro continued!
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