This chapter is subject to change as I go along in the series.
June 1864, Crescent City, California
"I thought I told you to keep your head down!" Esme called as a gatling gun hurled bullets overhead and she ducked her head. She listened as they crashed into a nearby tree and sent it to the grass below. Aimee peeked up from around Margaret who'd fallen atop her. She irritatingly gnawed on the inside of her cheek, and then sighed as she shook her head. Margaret pulled herself up a bit and gazed at Aimee, but Esme was quickly distracted by the large red and purple lump forming along her forehead. "Well at least it didn't penetrate your skin this time. That's progress." She involuntarily snorted as Margaret blushed upon finally seeing just where she'd fallen, receiving quick glares from her companions. "Not the time for arguments or laughter. Sorry."
She swiveled around and crawled up the hill they hid behind, feeling Ines settle on one of her sides and Genny on the other as she readied her rifle. Genny looked ahead and narrowed her gaze as she spotted enemy guards approaching, pulling the trigger of her rifle. She hit her first target as more gatling pelts plunged into the hill sending debris scattering about. With a grunt and the slamming of her fist along the grass, Genny found a new target. She steadied her rifle and let out a slow breath, pulling the trigger once again.
"My crew only, everyone else stays behind!" Esme peeked over the hill and watched as the man previously aiming and firing the gatling finally stopped. He fell from his perch in the enemy's wagon positioned behind the lighthouse and Esme leapt to her feet, holding her hand and axe into the air as she called behind herself, "Let's go now! The gatling's down!"
Her family rushed around her and ran at top speeds to the outpost being held hostage by a local gang that thought a little too highly of itself. After receiving a parcel to help from Lana and Trevor's great grandchildren, they'd arrived from all corners of the world just as promised so many moons ago and now fought on the shores of California, unceasing their endeavor until their enemy was stopped. They actually believed they could take control of this town and its inhabitants, but as the reputation Esme had spent the last several centuries cultivating said, they were nothing against them. Not when she had her family at her side and their bullets only left mild bruises along their skin at this point after they'd grown so strong. Being together only brought about that great stamina in full and she felt it reverberating throughout her body. Although she was fairly certain Margaret would have a rather large welp on her head from the gatling bullet, at least she still lived. She always would. That being said, Esme was hit with one of those bullets herself, right in the abdomen and wasn't in the mood to take another.
Esme ran with her family to the lighthouse and struck down the first to cross her path with ease, moving onto the next who threw his hands into the air. Esme grimaced in confusion, then gazed up toward a sound approaching her from the left. It was Genny and Ricky dragging the other men back with shackles along their wrists. They fell alongside their comrade and Esme lifted her head in search of the others.
Soon enough, Aimee came around the corner with another member of the gang with rope binding his wrists. "Go on and sit with them, kid." Aimee let him go and he knelt down beside the others.
She made her way to Esme as she put her fingers together along her lips and fresh rain pelted their cheeks. She whistled as she surveyed the hills and large boulders around them until the man who hired them on the Trevor Family's recommendation came out with two local sheriff's deputies and their crew member who stayed behind to guard the mortals in the area. Colel led them over and their employers stared in astonished silence at the men knelt before them. They weren't men, but boys in their teenage years at most. Esme had seen this time and time again over the centuries and it always irked her.
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