Last Bandit: Book 1 in The Bandits Series

Modern Day Cowboy

Chapter 1: Modern Day Cowboy ~

This dead beat town has nothing for me. I give up on this place. I have a long time ago. There's no use living here.

It's been my home for twenty-one years. It's been the home to many demons. As long as I'm here, they're here. And I don't think I can face them anymore.

So I'm leaving. I'm forgetting about the band. Well, not that we're a band anymore. And I'm forgetting about her. Both are long gone. They'll never be back in my arms.

I stand in the center of my room. It's a one bedroom house in Helena, Ohio, the dead beat town with nothing to offer. Nothing. I'll be leaving this place soon and the alcohol stains in the carpet and the cigarette burns in the furniture. I hand it all over to the town, who has been dying to tear down this old shack. It's deteriorated over the years, and I'm living in it without proper documentation that I own it... I don't own it... The city council members have just been kind enough to keep this place standing, knowing it's a poor man's home.

I don't think I'll be seeing a shower soon, so I was sure to clean up well. I've got on a pair of worn black jeans, an old women's floral blouse that I found at a yard sale, and floral patterned vest. None of it matches. But that's how I like it. And of course, I'll be hiking across the land in these cowboy boots I've had for four years now. They're still in great shape. And I'll wear this felt, wide brimmed fedora to shield me from the sun. And that's about it.

All I'm bringing along besides myself is my guitar and a large pillowcase full of clothes and necessities, like a brush for this long, black mane and a toothbrush and toothpaste. I don't need anymore cavities. And I've got a razor and deodorant. I have the Walkman I stole and a few of my favorite tapes along for the adventure also. And I'm bringing my harmonica and an old, kinda sentimental postcard from a family member.

Oh, and my wallet. I've got my driver's license in there and a few bucks. But I don't have a car or a bank account.

I pick up the pillowcase and my guitar case and take one last look around. This is where half of my life happened. Yet it doesn't hurt knowing I won't be seeing it ever again. I don't mind escaping from this town and never, ever looking back.

The November air is cold, so when I get to the edge of the road, I pull a suit jacket out of my homemade suitcase and slip into it. It provides some insulation. Some is enough.

There's Thanksgiving decorations all around town. Cartoonish turkeys set up in people's windows and little pilgrim statues scattered about their yards. And because Christmas is soon also, there's a mixture of lights and garland wrapped around people's wrought iron fences and railings. I hate the holidays.

"Johnny!" I hear someone yell from behind. I hate being known in this town too.

It's Lucas. He's only eleven. He always used to push to the front row when my band and I played the county fair. Everybody hated us besides him.

He catches up to me and sadly asks, "Where are you going?"

"To the west," I reply.

"Why?"

Well, there's lots of reasons why, but it'd take too long to name them all. So I say, "Because I'm tired of this place."

"Me too. It's so boring. There's nothing fun to do."

He's right about that. But I can't lead him to begin thinking about running away, which is what he probably thinks I'm doing. "Go start a band. Maybe you can get through to these people."

"All I have is a piano. Those are no fun."

Piano? Almost all of my songs include piano. A nice, bluesy piano riff. And those are no fun?

"I have piano in all my songs. Do you know how to play?"

He nods with light in his eyes. Shit... I have to keep him from thinking about running away. I don't want to be mentioned when he gets caught.

"Yeah, but all the boring stuff."

"Well, teach yourself some fun tunes. Make shit up. It'll come to ya."

I turn and start walking again, but I feel him poke at my guitar case.

"I wanna play guitar," he says.

"Go find a guitar and play," I reply and continue down the sidewalk.

Surprisingly, he stops bugging me and allows me to be on my way. So I walk to the edge of town and start to thumb at passing cars. But they're all too afraid to pick up a man like me.