Billie and Brandon: Untamed

7

Wesley Carson stared at the plaque underneath his portrait honouring his dedicated years of service to the town with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He took a sip of his scotch on the rocks with a soft chuckle. Despite the little scuffle he had ended up in a couple nights ago, his week had been nothing short of perfect. Those outlaws were being hanged as he stood there, and he still had complete control of his town. Yes, it wasn't uncommon for a few idiots to go after him every once in a while, but with his extensive web of allies, their attacks were usually quelled very quickly.

But there was one thing that had somewhat irked him.

Wesley made it a point to become acquainted with everyone in his town. Under the guise of being a friendly, accomodating mayor, it allowed him to seek out prospective targets for his busines. A very thriving business.

In fact, he currently had his eyes set on the Donahoe's family women. Particulary, one Zoe Donahoe. Her modesty and almost naive innocence was very alluring. She had been nothing but a gangly young child as a youngster, but now that she was entering the throes of womanhood, he could easily see that she would become quite the buxom beauty. And would be a very wanted woman. She exuded virginty, and that aspect of her personality would be very sought after.

The other blonde daughter was very attractive herself as well, and her wild spark was the kind of aura that would attract more rambunctious customers to the Bull's Sleaze. The kind of fiery spirit that would challenge many men to break. And don't get him started on Gerry's wife, Mara. Her voluptous curves and bountiful breasts would make him a fortune. Perhaps he would even make Mara his own personal "assistant".

Gerry Donahoe was a lucky man, housing three of their town's most beautiful women. And Gerry would make him rich once he got his hands on them.

But he was biding his time to make a move, because currently, Gerry was one of the only ranchers who provided much of the milk and meat the town used. Getting rid of him would be an economic hindrance. Once that young boy of his, Monty, grew old enough to run the ranch on his own in a couple of years, Wesley would strike and make his move.

But besides that, the day of the bar fight, there had been two cowboys he had never made the acquaintance of before. Both of their hats had been hooding their eyes, therefore, he could not make out what they looked like. Perhaps they had just been passing through town, but the shorter male and the tall one with the cowboy hat, he had never seen before. They clearly had a vendetta with Wesley and his men. But he would not dwell on it too long. One of them had been captured, and he was no longer a threat to Wesley. The other, he doubted would be showing his face anytime soon. He already had a bounty on his head for putting Davis in the hospital. And though the description of the short man wasn't all that reliable, Wesley would make sure that if he showed his face again, he wouldn't last five minutes out in the town.

There was a brief knock on his door, and Wesley turned lazily from the portrait behind his desk, settling down his scotch on his desk.

"Enter."

Sam and Everett sauntered into his office looking triumphant and smug. Wesley sat down in his plush chair, leaning back with his hannds in a steeple.

"Well?" he rose an expectant brow.

"We've gotten rid of the two nusisance pests, Wesley" Everett told him, tipping the black cowboy hat on his head. The cowboy hat that Wesley recognized had been on the head of the taller assailant.

"Yeah! They should be purple and frothing at the mouths right about now. Or eaten by coyotes. Or gotten by the snakes!"

Wesley smirked, eyes hooded by the shadows caused by the dim lighting of his office. "Excellent. Anything else?"

"We got you a gift." Sam walked forward and slid an obsidian Colt pistol across the table with a sneer on his face, "Only has one bullet in it though. I've never seen a gun like that before in my life. Thought you would want it."

Wesley slowly picked it up in slight shock, his expression indifferent, but his mind racing. He had seen this pistol before. Several times in fact.

This was the pistol that used to belong to his late younger brother, Leon.

He gazed at it with narrowed eyes, "Where did you get this from?"

"It was one of the items we looted off of those outlaws."

"Was one of them young man about twenty-one with very long eyelashes, by any chance?"

"I don't really remember boss. We just took the pistol." Everett replied, a bit uneasily. The mayor's uncomfortable silence was never a good sign, "I think he might have had long eyelashes? But I can't remember. "

Wesley turned the gun around, observing the counters, the line of the barrel, the carved wood on the grip. He was positive this was his brother's pistol. The pistol that, the last time he had seen it, had been clutched in his brother's son Brandon's grip as he cascaded down the river in a barrel.

If there was one thing the Mayor would never forget about Brandon, it was his extremely long eyelashes over his dark brown eyes that shined in pure unadultered hatred as he held that too heavy, long barreled rifle in his small hands. Wesley's men had quickly disarmed him and knocked him to the ground, before any real damage had been done. The Mayor touched the old jagged scar on his right cheek. The random bullet that Brandon had shot had nicked his face and left that mark.

Brandon had vowed he would get revenge. He had been but a seven year old then, but his words were those of a young man, who had experienced too much and grown up too fast.

The fact that Leon's pistol was back in this town meant that perhaps...Brandon was already back. Back and had attempted to take revenge. Wesley remembered the tall, low voiced cowboy with the black hat who had threatened him. Perhaps that had been Brandon?

But that was next to impossible. Wesley had left him in the wilderness all those many years ago. Brandon should have been dead or drowned by now. If not drowned, then eaten by wild animals. But just in case...

"Get your gear. You're riding to the Summit to check on them." The mayor said coldly, putting the gun in his desk drawer, "If they're dead, throw them in the canyon. If for whatever reason they are not dead, shoot them with no hesitation."

He wasn't going to take any chances. Revenge had a way of changing a man. Of making him more reckless and dangerous.

"But we just came from-"

Everett elbowed Sam in the side quickly, invoking the wrath of the mayor from not following orders was never a good idea. Everett had seen what happened to men who questioned orders. He wasn't in the mood to get his limbs torn from his body by horses. "You got it boss. We'll leave right away." They clambered out of the room quickly before Wesley could respond."

Once they were gone. Wesley pulled the pistol back out from his drawer, turning it to and fro with frown on his face. He took a sip of his scotch in mirthless amusement.

"Brandon, huh?"

If Brandon was alive and well and in town, he could uproot everything Wesley had worked for. And if he was intent on that revenge he had claimed he would get when he was a child, then Wesley would have to increase his protection quite a bit. Brandon was his foil, and Wesley had to make sure that he was out of the way.

He didn't truly believe Brandon was back, but until he had confirmation that that man who had been hanged was dead, he wasn't going to let his guard down one bit.

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Sorry, just a filler chapter today:(