Southern Helle (An Interracial Romance Story)

Chapter 17

~August~

August stood on the outskirts of town feasting on the sight of Mr. Morgan’s charred shop. He reached for a flask out of his pocket and took a swig if liquor. His alcohol issue is starting to become a problem, but August refuses to believe it.

The sun blasted its rays down on the earth. August knew he would have to cut his hair and beard soon. Summer dawned upon them; he no longer had a use for the extra hair.

He strode over the rubble and explored it. He picked up a piece of wood which turned black from the smoke. Underneath the rubble lay a small pendant Mr. Morgan always wore when August’s mom used to bring him here. He picked up and fondled the sliver loops and hoops associated with this jewel.

He placed the pendant in his pocket, the one that wasn’t filled with his alcohol. If Mr. Morgan was still alive August wanted to give this to him. He walked back to his horse. The horse blew air out his mouth. “You’re tired of this sun too, huh?” August asked the stallion. 

August placed his flask in the satchel on the side of the horse. He mounted his horse, steered it towards the town, and clicked his feet on the colt’s sides. The horse jolted forward and rode his owner into town. 

August tied the horse at a stable. It was a few blocks away from the building where Helle was being held captive.

August checked himself. Did he have enough bullets? Would he be able to draw his knife if need be? Could he kill someone? Did he have the balls to pull this off by himself? He pushed the last two thoughts out of his mind while he counted the bullets in his revolver and his pocket.

He had to save Helle. It was what he promised her. After his long absence nothing could change the fact that he loved her, that he wanted, no needed, to protect her. 

He petted the horse one last time before stalking towards the building. The door to the building hung limply from its hinges as if someone kicked it down. He drew his gun from his holster and stepped over the damaged slab of wood.

A shot rang through the building. August stooped down to avoid any bullets that might be intended for him. After a few moments, he realized there were no more gunshots going off. He stood erect. He walked into the clearing of the building. 

He looked at the stacks of crates all over the room. He saw 5 heads bob at the top of the crates, one with dark curly hair. That had to be Helle.

There was one man closer to him than the rest so he decided to take that man out first. August scuttled over to Helle’s captor and wrapped his hand around the man’s mouth. He took out his knife, and jabbed it into the man’s neck. The man made a soft cry, but it was muffled into the background. He placed the man on the floor, gently and wiped the blood on the guy’s shirt.

He continued to walk, but accidentally stepped in a red puddle. He looked down at his shoes and shook off the liquid. He stealthy followed the red trail to find a dead body face-down. From the back it looked like Mr. Morgan to him. 

He lifted the head to see Mr. Morgan’s brown, lifeless eyes looking back at him. He almost gasped aloud. When he looked up he saw Helle staring at him. He placed his finger over his lips to make her stay silent. 

Even though she was silent, her eyes gave him away. The man turned towards him, and spotted August. August darted behind one of the many crates. Seconds later, a few bullets whizzed by him.

He pulled out his Colt Navy Revolver that he got while he was north of the border. He checked his bullets once more. He had more than enough to kill these three guys, easily. He felt a little uneasy about if he would come out unscathed.