The Man and The Outlaw

Chapter Seventeen

Clara did not cry.
She sat in the dark little room with her back against the wall and her head near the tiny windowsill that let in streams of moonlight from behind her. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. But she would not give them the satisfaction of hearing her do so. She would not let them win this battle even though she knew the war was already in their hands.
Her thoughts drifted to Walker and how badly she'd overreacted the night before. She'd pulled her gun on him. Walker, who she knew was her friend. Walker, who only wanted to help. Walker, who had followed her on this crazy trip without hesitation. Walker, who she liked more than she was willing to admit to herself even sitting alone in the dark in a stranger's house with the clock on her life ticking down towards oblivion with every second.
Now, he was gone. She'd ran him off with her angry outburst. She was always angry, the rage bubbling quietly beneath the surface, waiting to erupt from the smallest of agitations. She could always feel it pulsing there, waiting. Pa's words came back to her, and she hung her head in her hands.
"I'm not like him," she whispered to herself, trying to convince her own mind that the words were true.
She wanted to kill Valdez, she could admit that to herself now, but that wasn't the plan. She was going to catch him and bring him in, serve him to a judge that would take care of the rest. She wanted justice, not revenge.
Not revenge, she told herself. She didn't have to bend to every willful whim that took her. She didn't have to kill Valdez just because she wanted to. She was not like the vengeful figurehead of the ruined family that now held her captive. She was not like Todd Pryor who bore closer and closer to her with evil in his heart.
Her father's face came to her then. She could see him smiling at her and then she saw that he had begun to frown, his brow furrowed, and his mouth turned down. It was like he was trying to figure out who exactly she was. It was like he couldn't decide what to make of her. Her body trembled and her heart thudded heavily.
Thump thump, thump thump.
It was loud in her ears and then she realized that it wasn't coming from her heart at all. She sat up and shook the dream from her head. She hadn't noticed when she'd fallen asleep but the darkness outside wasn't as deep as it had been before. The sun was coming and so was Todd.
Thump thump, thump thump.
She jerked her eyes up towards the window and nearly screamed. A dark figure looked in at her, working on the flaking seal of the window with a knife and the heel of a boot in each hand. Clara bit her tongue at the last second. The thumping she'd heard was softer in reality than it had been in her dream. Her would be rescuer was using the boot as a hammer, pushing the knife with the heel, scouring the old and dried out sealant that held the window in place. Even as Clara watched, the window started to tremble in its setting with each gentle blow of the boot on the handle of the knife.
The figure was so intent on its work that it hadn't seemed to notice Clara watching. When finally, the figure's head looked up to glance over its shoulder, their eyes met. Clara would've recognized those pale blues anywhere.
"Walker," she gasped.
His face split in a sly grin.
"I'm going to get you out," he mouthed from the other side of the window. Clara glanced back at the bedroom door as Walker continued to work. The window had no sliding pane, no lock, it was just a square piece of glass set in the wall but lucky for them the trailer home was old and had been sitting on the same plot for years, baking in the sun, rusting in the rain. Walker was making quick work of the sealant, but Clara was starting to hear movement from outside the door. The family was waking up and any minute they'd be coming to check on her.
"Hurry," she whispered to the window as Walker's knife popped through the sealant along the third edge of the frame. There were footsteps outside, Clara thought they were in the hallway, coming towards her door.
Walker's hands moved faster as the footsteps grew closer, stopped, as if the person was listening for something. The thumping of the boot heel on the knife was louder as Walker tried to hurry. Then, Clara heard the footsteps running and the sound of a key in the lock on her door. She looked back at Walker. Sweat had gathered on his brow and his jaw was clenched in concentration. He was almost there, almost through the final side of the sealant, when the door burst open, and Ray stood there in boxer shorts and a gray sweatshirt. He had his gun drawn and there was a wild look on his face as his eyes darted from where Clara stood to the window through which he could see Walker looking in. He jerked his gun away from Clara and to the window, finger on the trigger but Clara noticed then that in his haste he had forgotten more than just his pants.
"Put the gun down Ray," she ordered, slipping unconsciously into her Silvertongue voice.
Without any earplugs to protect him, Ray's face slackened, and he bent down and put the gun at his feet.
"Kick it over to me," Clara told him, and Ray booted the pistol with his barefoot so that it skidded across the floor to where she stood. Her hands still tied behind her, she moved the pistol beside her with her own foot and then turned back just as Walker put his shoulder to the window and it fell out of its frame and crashed to the floor.
"Think anybody heard that?" Walker asked with a nervous chuckled as he pulled himself through the frame and brushed himself off beside her. Ray still stood idly in the doorway but from behind him Clara could hear the sounds of doors opening. Panic rose inside her.
"Cut these ropes, would you?" She told Walker, turning around so that he could use the knife to free her hands.
He grabbed her forearm and held her steady. His hand was warm against her skin, and she was grateful for his presence again. She hadn't allowed herself to realize just how alone she'd felt without him. He cut the rope and it fell to the floor.
"Gosh Clara, how long did they have those on you?" he exclaimed. She felt his hands rub the places where the rope had cut into her, trying to soothe the skin there.
"Too long," she replied and, with great reluctance, pulled her arms away from him. There were more footsteps in the hallway. "We have to get out of here."
Clara bent and picked up Ray's pistol, assessed the weight of it in her hand and checked the clip to see that it was fully loaded. Beside her, Walker was pulling his right boot back onto his foot and stowing his knife in exchange for his own gun.
"Back out the window?" he asked as the footsteps got closer and someone in the hall called out, "Ray?"
Clara shook her head. "We'll both never get out in time."
"Then, you go. I'll hold them off."
"We get out together," Clara said immediately.
"Clara, you—"
"I'm not losing you again," she snapped and lifted her gun as she heard footsteps just around the doorway. Ray was still blocking it, waiting for his next instructions.
"Ray, what's going on?"
It was Pa, coming around the wall. He would undoubtedly be armed and when he saw Walker he would shoot without hesitation.
"Grab him, Ray!" Clara shouted as she saw Pa's shadow nearing his son. Ray reacted immediately, reaching out and grabbing his father around the shoulders before the man could do anything to stop him.
"You Silvertongued witch!" Pa screamed as Ray wrapped him up in a tight bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides, the pistol in his grip forced to aim at the ground.
"You watch your mouth," Walker told him, his eyes steely and his own gun aimed at the man's chest.
"Who are you?" Pa snarled.
Walker shrugged at him and smiled sideways at Clara.
"A friend," he said.
Clara couldn't help smiling back and she started across the room, Walker right behind her.
"Keep ahold of him for an hour after we're gone Ray," Clara instructed as they passed the man in his son's grasp. Ray's grip seemed to tighten as Pa struggled futilely against his much larger child.
They entered the hallway from the empty bedroom that had been Clara's prison cell. Clara felt immediately more at ease with Walker right beside her. His hat was slightly askew from when he'd crawled through the window and, in the lightening house, she could see that a slight grin rested on his face. They were not out of the woods yet, but he seemed to be enjoying himself and in a strange way, she was too. She felt unstoppable with him at her side again.
They came out of the hallway and back into the main living area of the trailer. The sun had peeked up over the horizon at last and the room was bathed in its pale glow. Clara knew Todd could be pulling up any minute. They needed to disappear and fast. Problem was, they weren't alone there.
Suze was standing with her back against the front door, her brother's shotgun in her hands and her revolvers looped around her hips. Her hair hung loosely around her face, and she wore a white night shirt that hung down past her knees. She had her feet spread, guarding the door, the shotgun aimed right at where Clara and Walker had appeared. Clara noticed immediately that where her brother had been careless, Suze had been sharp. Her father's high-tech headphones rested over her ears.
"We don't want any trouble," Clara said calmly. Beside her, Walker's gun was still drawn and aimed right back at Suze. Clara let the gun in her hand dangle at her side. She didn't want to escalate the situation and she didn't want to hurt Suze any more than she knew that the girl was already hurting.
"You're not leavin'," Suze snarled, readjusting her grip more firmly on the shotgun. Her eyes were slits in her face, narrowed in anger and determination.
"I can't let that man get here and take me away. I won't. You're going to have to shoot me."
"Don't think I won't," the girl replied sharply and turned the gun fully on Clara.
Clara hesitated slightly and then took one step forward. Walker flinched at her side.
"What are you doing?" He hissed at her. "Let me take her out before she gut shots you."
"No," Clara denied him. "Don't kill her. She won't shoot me."
"I will!" There was a loud clicking sound as she racked a round in the gun.
"I know you want to make your father proud, Suze. I know he means the world to you. Mine did too. But I also know that you're no killer. You know all about violence, you've seen it, felt it. And you want no part of it, not really. You hold the gun but still," Clara took another step closer to the front door, "you haven't pulled the trigger yet."
"I...I'll do it!" Suze snapped too loudly.
"What happened to your mother was awful. I really am sorry about it. No one deserves to have a loved one killed."
It was the first time Clara had really seen Suze soften. Even after her father had hit her and thrown her to the ground, there was an edgy hardness to her. Now, Clara could clearly see the broken girl that she knew had been lying beneath the surface all along, the girl who wanted an end to the life she was living, the girl who looked a lot like the one inside herself. Clara felt more than sympathy for her. She felt like they were one in the same.
"I know what it feels like to be lost," Clara said, taking yet another step forward. Her chest was now only about two feet from where the barrel of the shotgun ended. She could reach right out and grab it. "I know what it's like to be grasping at any straws you can find, any life preserver that floats your way. I know you want to make things right Suze, but this isn't the way. You know that it's not. You've seen your father drown in this madness and you know it's wrong. Please, Suze. Just let us go."
There was a moment of complete silence where no one moved or even seemed to breathe. Walker was too far behind her for Clara to take note of what he was doing but she just hoped he wouldn't get trigger happy and do something drastic. Suze was staring hard at Clara. Her face was pale, and her eyes had filled with water as Clara talked. Her hands trembled and the shotgun began to lower.
Clara sighed and her face broke into a smile. Suze put the shotgun against the wall and loosened her gun belts so that they dropped to the floor around her feet. Tears were running down her face as she stepped out of them and met Clara's eye.
"I'm sorry," she said in a quivering voice. "I...never meant for..."
"I know," Clara told her. "It's okay."
"You've got to go," Suze said suddenly, wiping her face with both hands and turning to pull the front door open. "That Pryor guy could be here any minute. You've got to hurry."
Walker holstered his gun and stepped towards the door, putting a hand on Clara's elbow to usher her out. Clara stopped him and turned back to the room. She strode across to the couch. The pile of cloth was still there, collars and bandannas, scarves just like her own. She gathered them in her arms and turned back to Suze.
"These go with me," she said, and she wasn't asking for permission. Suze nodded.
Clara followed Walker out of the trailer and down the porch steps. Suze watched them cut across the yard where Walker's horse was idly nibbling on the grass around the side of the home near the window where he had entered. Clara wished she could say more to her, give her some kind of comforting words, but none came, and Walker pulled her up behind him on his horse and they sped off, away from The Oasis RV Park, the Silvertongue hunting parties, and the waking town of Driscoll. Clara could only hope she'd never have to visit the place again.
"Hang on tight," Walker told her over his shoulder as he spurred his horse to move faster. Clara, feeling suddenly exhausted, was more than happy to oblige, wrapping her arms around his waist and clasping her hands together in front of him as the horse picked up speed.