Exceptions

Bounty hunters are not generally a cooperative sort.  Cooperation means sharing a reward, and, well, you know how that goes.  But, as in most of life, exceptions do exist.  Word had come from the territories - a price had just been placed on the Milsner gang, all sixty-odd of them.  A hunter team that went by Mike & Ike put out a call for a double handful more to help take them down, and I aimed to be one of them.

By happenstance I arrived first at the meetup point and so took it upon myself to make camp.  The abandoned farmhouse didn't seem too sturdy to me, and the nearby barn looked like a firetrap but dry enough to stow gear, in case of rain.  I swept out a corner for my bedroll and dry goods, but built a fire outside for light, warmth, and coffee.  My gun and mount stayed with me, of course.

I just about had everything set up when I realized that I'd left the sack of coffee back in the barn.  Damn, getting old, I thought, and  went to fetch it.  Still, it was understandable - generally, you don't have a sleeping spot too far off from your fire.  I'd justified my error about the same time I got back to the fire, and a couple of heartbeats before a cold hard piece of metal pressed against the back of my neck.

"Reach for the sky, mister," growled a familiar voice.

Yes, I was startled.  I blame the aging again.  "Lou," I said, "some day you will get one of us killed, pulling that."  And I laughed.

And she laughed.  Oh, my god, that laugh.

I've not met many women in this game.  The few which I have met are much like the men, and by that I mean that I would share a drink or a fire with them, but precious little else.  As I have said before, we are not a cooperative sort.  Nor are we particularly trusting.  The profession attracts that sort to begin with, and if you enter this game with any bit of softness, you will have it driven out of you, or you will not last.

As with all of life, exceptions do exist.  Witness one Lou Ann Brit.  I could tell you about our history, but it's not what you might think and I wouldn't tell you if it was.  I could sing her praises as a bounty hunter, but, hell, she just got the drop on me, so that should suffice for our purposes.  What you need to understand, what I want you to understand, is the joy of life that lives behind her eyes, and the way that joy can warm your soul whenever you see it.  Which is, in my case, far too infrequently.

"How you been, Lou?" I inquired as she holstered her sidearm.

"Not bad," she said, then nonchalantly added,  "Just got paid for Roy Hews."

I paused in my assembly of the coffepot and whistled through my teeth.  "That man-mountain?  I heard he was seven foot tall and spit poison.  Not bad, girl.  What do you do for an encore?"

She didn't bat an eyelash.  "Go after the Milsner gang."

"Ain't you a little young for that?"

"Ain't you a little old?"

Now I know what you're thinking, and it's probably something like, What the hell is this?  You give the impression that you're head over heels for this girl, and then when you greet her, it's just like you'd chat with any of your old trail buddies?  Isn't there a spark?  Isn't there a warm embrace?

No there isn't.  What there was, is this.  When I turned around, I saw Lou's smile and her bright green eyes.  She made this tiny, just barely perceptible move forward, like she just might step forward and hug me.  And I just barely lifted my shoulders, like I might shrug, or like I might raise my arms and hug her right back.  And then we both stopped, and went on like it didn't happen.

That's as far as it went.  That's as far as it ever went, with us.  But we could look at each other and we both knew that it might as well have happened.  It was good enough, and if she ever wanted more from me, well, that would be her decision.

That's what I told myself, every time.

So I made the coffee, and she set up a spit for some game she'd killed, and we had an hour to ourselves or so before the next arrival.

We heard him before we saw him.  A twig cracking, you know the drill.  Lou and I both stood up, drawing our guns (she was still faster than me), but the little shit already had his iron out.  It was Jason Strix.

I've never liked Strix.  Some of it's the way he always goes for the kill, even when he doesn't have to - hell, even when it lowers his bounty.  Some of it's the way he carries himself, with a little too much of a gunfighter's slouch.  Some of it's the way he talks, like he's always looking for a fight.  Some of it's the permanent smirk on his face.  Lord I do hate a smirk.

But I know that's really justification, the way I blamed old age for leaving the coffee in the barn.

We all held our stance for a second, though it seemed a drawn-out second to me.  Then Strix smiled that smirky little smile of his and relaxed, and Lou relaxed, and they put away their pistols, and I felt like a God-damned idiot so I put mine away too and nodded at Strix and exchanged last names with him by way of a formal greeting.

And then Lou Ann went and hugged Jason Strix.

She hugged him.

And while I was picking my jaw up from the ground, they were busy kissing each other.

All right.  All right.  None of your business, I told myself.  I returned to my place at the campfire, picked up my coffee mug.  I was halfway through scalding my mouth when my ears barely heard a brief, muffled noise, and not the pleasurable kind.

My brain caught fire. I dropped my mug, whirled, and drew my gun in one move, and damned if Strix didn't outdraw me anyway.  He had an arm around Lou Ann's throat and was pulling her toward his horse, using her like a shield.

"Just let it go, old man," Strix warned me.

Well, that was just plain foolish.  He had me out-drawn, he should have just shot me.

Now, let me point something out.  I was aiming for his shoulder.  But at the moment I took my shot, Lou slammed her fist straight down from his arm to his groin. I don't know any man who will not react to such an event.  Jason Strix immediately buckled forward, and my bullet caught him in the forehead.

I don't believe I have ever heard my gun make such a loud noise as that before, yet it was quiet as a whisper compared to the sound Lou's six-shooter made when she spun around and emptied it into Jason's corpse before it hit the ground.

Lou Ann twirled her pistol into its holster neat as you please and turned to face me.  Her bright, green eyes met mine.  She made a tiny, barely perceptible move forward.

I stiffened, and did not raise my shoulders at all.

We found a Wanted poster in Strix's saddlebags with his face on it.  Sometimes a bounty hunter will get a price on his own head, that's not unheard of.  I took his body in and claimed it.  I hear that Lou Ann got quite a pay day off the Milsner gang.

I hope one day to see her again, but I rather doubt things will ever be the same.  But who knows?  In most of life, exceptions do exist.  At least I was there when she needed me.  Did what needed doing.

That's what I tell myself, anyway.