LAST CHANCE → sean macguire ✔

three , three

"Why are you doing this?" Willa's voice was low as she offered her wrists up for the rope to get cut. Murphy shrugged, pursing his lips.

"You're people. Sure, you see the world how you want and don't follow the rules, but..." He paused, slicing the rope around her wrists, "Everyone we kill has a family. Makes you human to know that, right?"

Willa's jaw fell open from shock, then it lifted into a smile, "Yeah... Exactly."

"Now then. How to get you two outta here..." He grasped his chin, glancing around the room like the secret would be hidden there.

"We don't want to get you in trouble--" John began, but Murphy held up his hand.

"That's exactly it. They won't kill me, but they'll kick me out. I want to be kicked out-- I hate it here." He grumbled. Willa exchanged a look with John, shrugging slightly.

"Alright. I'll bite. What's your plan?" She didn't have much of a choice, really. It was better than waiting to die-- John had convinced her of that.

"Well... Being outlaws and all, you've gotta be good at sneaking, right? I'll distract them and you sneak out," He hurried to a chest that was tucked away in the corner, "There are horses by the wagon. Take them and run. Here." He pulled out a familiar sight and Willa's knees almost buckled beneath her.

Her revolvers glinted in the low light and she snatched them up, thanking him happily. He handed John his possessions, then stood on his tiptoes and placed Willa's hat on her head.

They were really getting out.

Then, the kid pulled out a large bottle of whiskey, "This ought'a distract them for a while. They might even like me for a while." He smirked to himself, then closed the chest up again.

"This... I can't thank you enough." Willa gushed. Murphy nodded.

"You guys getting outta here and getting back to your people will be thanks enough. And thank you." He turned to the door, gesturing once to the back door. John nudged Willa's arm and she hesitated then, nodding, she followed him to the back door. She heard the whiskey bottle open, then the front door crashed open. Murphy was slurring his words, like he was drunk, and Willa spotted the guards by the wagon.

They didn't seem interested at first, until Murphy began offering the whiskey to the others. They all seemed to forget about the highly-wanted prisoners and ran, shouting, to get some of it.

"It's now or never." John whispered.

"Let's get the hell outta here."

With that, they ran, in crouch, to the wagon and took cover. Sure enough, two horses were hitched no less than ten feet away, unhitched. Alert, too, from the sudden noise.

A louder voice broke through the other's and they all stopped. She recognized it as the fat man with the beard's voice and her gut seized. They couldn't get caught right now.

"That's the sergeant. We only have a small window here." John spoke up, making Willa jump. She turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"Sergeant? How'd you know that?" It wasn't the time for questions, but she couldn't help it. John shifted.

"Pearson told me about them... A couple years back. What they look like and... Let's just go." He nudged her forward and Willa chuckled quietly. The sergeant was now yelling at the men, so it was do or die.

Willa looked at John, who nodded, then at the horses.

"Go."

They darted forward and threw themselves up, tossing their saddlebags over the horse's back, then they spurred the horses forward.

"H-hey! Hey, wait!"

They were already gone by the time the soldiers were on their horses. Milton had put too much faith into those men. Quantity over quality, Willa guessed.

John and Willa took sharp turns and dove into forests to throw off any pursuers and, by the time the sun was peeking over the horizon, they were passing Rhodes. They had lost the soldiers miles back, and now they were just going home.