Unbound

Chapter 14

Heavy rain, like bullets blasting the valley, had been falling for a few hours now. The pattering against the windows, the roof, and the trees had long since morphed into the sounds of silence.

The dirt outside was now a thick mud, puddles littering the floor, and the horses shook the droplets away, huffing heavily in discomfort. It was early, the morning sky littered in thick grey clouds and a dull colour palette.

Beth was laid on her stomach, sheets of the bed scrumpled beneath her, an arm hanging off the edge of the mattress. Her face was buried into the pillows, uttering soft words in her alcohol induced sleep, and her bare feet were numb from the cold.

All was calm, all was perfect. Another day in the O'Driscoll gang.

That was, however, until there was the muffled sounds of gunshots. She didn't stir much, used to the sounds of pistols, rifles, repeaters. But she did force her eyelids open, sunken eyes drifting to the window, at the falling raindrops.

Then the gunshots grew closer, more regular, more aggressive.

She rolled out of bed, catching herself on a knee, night clothes not at all helpful in combating the cold. She stood with a stumble, palm flat against her temple, and she waddled to the window, shoulder pressed against the wood beside it.

Peering through, wiping the condensation, her brows furrowed, and she seemed to sober right up. A man walked by, brown trench coat not familiar, and it was innately clear that whoever that was, wasn't an O'Driscoll. There were dead bodies, adorning green waistcoats, and she straightened.

With hasty movements, Beth removed her night clothes and slid on a white button up, her green waistcoat and neck tie, dark blue jeans, and boots. Her duster was thrown on, holsters next, and then her checkered scarf covered her mouth and nose, and finally some important papers pertaining to the O'Driscoll camp locations was folded and crammed into her satchel, which was slung on.

Swiping up her hat, brown eyes lit with disbelief; was that fire? A smash off to the side, followed by the bursting of flames, did indeed prove her fear to be right.

It was a raid. A full fledged raid. How long was it planned? Not long, she guessed, for the houses weren't looted or checked.

She padded down the steps silently, placing on her hat, and remained low. The front door burst open, a body of one of her comrades flying inside, the deafening blast of a shotgun accompanied the sight.

The soft padding of boots, of spurs, left the door, walking further up the village, and she took it as her chance to sneak outside.

The thumping rain provided good cover for her footsteps, and maybe her form. She was soaked instantly, shoulders hunching to block her face from the droplets, and she took the chance to peer over the hedges and fence from the main door.

There was a group of men, scattered but formed, fires licking out of buildings, adorning the village in a soft glow. It was warm against her skin, her clothing, and with a deep inhale she glanced to the other end of the village.

If she bolted, perhaps she could make it. Hop the fence into the nearest field and continue into the nearby forest, all without being fatally shot... but her horse. Hotsauce.

Her hand drummed against the holster on her hip, inhaling deeply as courage was gained. Then, with a burst of energy, she pounced up, whistling, hoping her horse heard it.

"What the-?" One of the men, the rain and her pounding heart making his words almost indecipherable, began, before he yelled, "Go get him!"

Beth continued to run, stumbling slightly, the approaching, thudding, heavy footsteps fueling her escape. She focused on the fence, at how close it was, how if she extended an arm she could-