Cowboys And Angels

Chapter 9

"Goddammit!" John snarled and slammed his fist into the brick wall of the boneyard that was once Fort Mercer.

Bill had fled the day before... He was gone, and in Mexico, most likely looking for another old friend to help him evade John. Javier Escuella, he remembered the Latino not always fondly and he knew that with Javier's connections, there was a chance that he would never catch Bill... And the realization that his family could be doomed was beginning to tug at him... He reached up with his not throbbing hand and ran his fingers over his eyes and rested both of his hips as he looked out of the large structured doors while his associates stared at him from behind, unsure of how he was doing.

"... I wish I could help more, John... But my obligation remains in Armadillo." Marshal Johnson finally broke the silence and approached John as the rugged younger of the two released a breath of tension.

"No... I understand... Thank you, for your hard work Marshal, I won't forget it." John murmured stiffly and turned his hardened gaze to the other, but something was obviously still tugging on the Officer's mind, and thankfully the other was discreet when he finally decided to ask.

"... What Norman said..." Johnson mumbled.

"... It's true." John replied softly and looked out to the falling sun over the desert-scape.

"... Can I ask why?" Johnson asked.

"Does it matter?" John exasperated, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I suppose not... I normally don't bother myself with other people's lives but... You, sir, lead an interesting one." Johnson replied and John looked over.

"No reason I give will be a good one... I'm not a good man, Sheriff... Perhaps leave it at that." John seemed to plead.

John had two options... He could scour the expanse of Mexico in search of Javier and Bill... He could turn himself into Edgar an Archer, perhaps beg them to spare his family and take him instead. Or... He could go back to Bonnie..?

"If yer needin' passage, I can always take ye'... I have plenty of friends in Mexico, maybe they can help ye'..." Irish offered, and while Irish was the last person John wanted help from... He didn't really have a realistic choice.

"If you're fucking with me, Irish, you won't make it back to America." John stated, devoid of any humor, West Dickens took that as his cue that he should leave and it was for the best.

"Well John, I enjoyed helpin' you, I really did but... I gotta get back to-"

"Get back to scammin' yeah I know. Thank you anyway." John said a tad gentler for the old man and the white-haired hustler made sure to slip away before a confrontation could start due to his questionable line of work.

"Why would I fuck wit ye', Johnny Boy?" Irish asked and when John's dangerously impatient gaze fell upon him, he felt a shiver go down his spine. "I can guarantee ye' a safe return..." He added for good measure and John huffed, looking to Johnson and his deputies.

"Before you head out... Can I ask you to do one last favor? I should be good for it." John inquired and Johnson raised a brow.

"Depends on the favor." Johnson grumbled and John shook his head.

"Nothing dangerous and nothing out of your way." He mentioned and Johnson nodded. "... I can't really send too much personal information through the mail... The government's got their eye on me and I can't afford to get anyone else hurt... I was just wondering if you give me a few minutes if you could take a letter to the MacFarlane homestead?" He hinted and the Marshal rolled his eyes but he nodded without question.