𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒅 & 𝑰 - A Billy the Kid western romance

Vengeance

Suddenly the realisation strikes my heart, and I come to understand the meaning of Billy's freezing stare. He has gone to claim his revenge, his version of justice.

The house is an eerie kind of silent as I search the different rooms for people, like I'm trying to outrun the loneliness creeping after me. Arriving at the end of the hall again, I finally find someone. Bucky seems to be the only one left in this building. The yard emptied of life the very second we lost Milo, like pulling the plug of a tub. 

Bucky has never been talkative, really. Kit wasn't very social as a child either, but he had some form of silent charm that couldn't be resisted. Everyone loved him. He was an asocial butterfly, to paint the picture. Kit always smiled at people, always has a certain glimmer in his eye, while Bucky usually remained distant. He felt no need to get to know new people. Why would he? He had everything he needed. We have grown relatively close despite his firm exterior, as close as you would expect someone to get after years and years of being within close proximity. Milo's proximity. Our relationship certainly doesn't quite reach the friend mark, but we understand each other well enough, I suppose. 

There's one day I sometimes think of,  to remind myself that we carry a certain amount of trust between us despite his limited use of words. When he was about 9 years of age, there was some kind of announcement in the town square, in front of Marley's saloon. Every soul within a mile's radius had gathered. I don't recall what for exactly, but everyone really was there. This was long before his eventual growth spurt. Today he towers over just about everyone, but back then he was swiftly lost within the mass of people. It was crowded, claustrophobic, and people were angsty and subsequently quite pushy, brewing a cause for panic for such a short little boy. While being pushed around and drowned between bodies he eventually was forced in my direction. As soon as he recognized the side of my body between the others, he latched onto my  hand, catching me by surprise. Since I'm older, I was also quite a lot taller. I read the thoughts and fear in his eyes, and lift him up onto my back. He was by far the shortest in their little group of friends, so he wasn't too heavy either. The gathering only lasted about another 10 minutes, and then the crowd began to disperse and he could breathe again. The thought that he reached for me to help him has stuck with me since then. I realise that it was long ago since he was a 9 year old boy but to me he remains the same boy at heart.

"Which direction Billy has headed?" I inquire in a mutter, empty of any energy.

"Don't follow him" He shuts me down, in a similar mutter. 

"You know where he has gone" I claim.

"He doesn't exactly pitch his plans to me either, you know" He looks away, almost unbothered. "But I suppose we both have our suspicions regarding what he is up to" He is stone cold, but deep down I know that he is hurting too. 

I decide leaving him alone would do better, but he beats me too it. Bucky walks straight past me, and I'm reminded just how tall and slender that little boy has gotten.

The hours pass. Staring at the blank wall, I in my own numbness. My mind feels empty, but at the same time I know that it's not, because there are so many unsettling thoughts at once. SO many that they merge into one, horrible feeling.

Tick

Tock

I wonder how Jane is doing, and what she must think of me by now.

Tick 

Tock

I miss my mother. I wish she never decided to move us from that town with the neighbours and their horses, but catch myself in the mere unfairness of it all. We would undeniably have been worse off had she not, for a wide array of reasons. She did what she had to do to spare us from the brutal consequences of material scarcity; We were able to live for cheaper in the little wooden shack.