Rivers End

Bullets and Plans

The storm broke during the black hours of the night, and come dawn the sky was fading from a yellowish gray to a brilliant red and orange sunrise. The mountain peaks in the distance were purple, the closer ones blue, and the air smelled fresh and sweet. Temple had been up before dawn, feeding the horses, readying them to travel. Before going back inside he walked down to the stream, stripping out of his shirt. The water was cold and refreshing, and Rin splashed it across his skin until he was thoroughly soaked from the waist up, and then scrubbed his hair good. It was long overdue for a cut, and he badly wanted to shave, but that would have to wait.

Dressing again he was settling his hat over his head when it hit him, the rare feeling of utter contentment and peace. It was so rare that he stopped short; surprised he could still feel that way. Rin looked around, the land about him green and quiet, rolling hills, jagged rock faces of sheer cliffs beyond them, tall trees and long grass, the wind whispering in the leaves. He could hear the broken laugh of a brook as it happily skipped along its bed, heading for parts yet unknown. It made him smile, a full unhesitating smile, a feature almost never seen on his face.

It was still there when he stepped inside the cabin. Temple came to face to face with three men, and one had tight arms around Amy Leigh, a hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes were wide with terror but she was unmoving in her captor's grip. They had obviously been expecting him, for one had a Sharps buffalo gun in his hands, the other already palming his pistol. Rin reacted.

He threw himself to the left, hearing the shattering thunder of the Sharps speak as the cabin door was ripped to shredded tatters. The bark of the pistol echoed in his ears as Rin rolled over, the bullet kicking splinters at him from the floor only inches from his face. He came up firing, the bone handled revolver in his hand. The .45 caliber pistol spoke loudly, bucking smoothly in his palm, its lead messengers heralds of death.

When his cylinder clicked over empty, the room was eerily silent, gun smoke sharp and bitter in the air. Rin loaded his pistol, his eyes on the dead men anger boiling inside him, growing hatred at being ambushed stirring an old rage to life. A movement to his right snapped him around, pistol up and ready.

"Rin, no!" Amy Leigh cried out in terror, her hands up.

The sound of her voice cleared his mind of the fog of battle and he holstered his gun, his face hard. Rin took no pleasure in killing, wanted to never kill again, resented his capability with a weapon but knew that as long as guns were the way of the west, he'd have no peace. He scowled, shaking his head, his mind churning with bitter memories.

"You hurt?" he asked, his voice a little thick to his ears.

"No, but Rin-"

"What?" he snapped out the word, angry though not at her.

The room abruptly spun on him and Rin felt weakness sweep though his limbs and staggered a little, shaking his head.

"Rin? Are you alright?" Amy took a hesitant step forward, half afraid, and Temple looked over at her.

He couldn't figure why she'd look so stricken. He took a step forward, swayed on his feet then collapsed. Amy ran to his side, taking his head in her lap.

"Rin?" Panic was rising in side of her for she had no idea what to do! "Rin!"

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked confused, the normal vivid blue of his eyes cloudy and unfocused.

"Kit?" the deep voice was slurred, somewhat ragged.

"No Rin, it's me, Amy, its Amy."

He frowned a little and his lips moved in response but no words came out, and then Temple went limp in her lap. Amy started to cry, looking down at the two growing red stains on his shirt. He'd been hit twice but while that gun was in his hand, he acted as though he'd not felt the bullets, and Amy wondered now if he had. The first shot was high in the thick muscle of his left shoulder. The second was worse, a solid hit just below his last rib on the left side.