Gunslinger AU Pt 5
Sep. 21st, 2021 08:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
saxophonic[Click here for previous chapter].
Unrated, no beta, 5.4k
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15 YEARS AGO...
They’d found a suitable spot outside of town for their caravan, and Joseph had long grown tired of being jostled in the wagon bed by the time they stopped to make camp. He’d be fourteen in a few days, grown enough to ride a horse like the other men, or at the very least, a pony. It was about damn time.
“Soon enough, JoJo. Now here,” his mother said and pressed a tent canvas into his hands. “Find a place for us to set this up.”
Everyone helped, that was the rule since they had set out to walk this path, to live this life. But today, he hated it. It was monotonous, the riding and stopping and pitching and packing. It had been a while since anything exciting happened. His mother often talked with Speedwagon and Straizo about how much money they were making. Shouldn’t that mean something? They could buy a ranch or some other plot of land with enough space for them all to live. And Joseph could finally get his own horse.
Though if they settle down, he’d probably have to give up working the gambling houses with everyone. Stealing from rich men was a game, and he was good at it. A hole in his plan he still needed to fill.
Eventually, the camp reached working order, enough that his mother and Speedwagon decided to take a trip into the nearby town. They’d mentioned the name earlier, but Joseph didn’t remember it. Something-burg. By now, most of the towns all felt the same to him. Except New York City, but that was hardly a town. That was before they left Granny for a life out west, before everything went bad. It was getting harder to remember why.
He stood beside the horses and crossed his arms. “I’m getting too big to ride with you,” he said. “I’m thirteen. How come you’re teaching me to use a gun before I get my own horse?”
His mother sighed from astride her horse. She twisted her hair up into her hat as she spoke. “How much do you think it costs to maintain a horse, JoJo?”
“Straizo has two horses but only one ass to sit on `em.”
Speedwagon laughed as he approached them, leading two horses, one of which was his own Doughty, a black Shire gelding with a striking blaze and white stockings. “A spare is a good idea, and he’s old enough to pay for them both. You will be too, someday, but this fella we stole earlier should suit you for now.” Speedwagon offered Joseph the reins of the other horse, a blue dun stallion. “Here. Check the saddle and let’s be on our way.”
“Robert,” his mother said reproachfully.
“Come now, Lisa Lisa, the boy’s right. He’s almost a head taller than he was six months ago, and he’s only going to keep shooting up.” Speedwagon mounted his horse before he continued. “I wouldn’t be shocked if he ends up as big as his father, or bigger. Seems to take after that side of the family, after all.”
She sighed again. “That’s what I’m worried about. Come on.” She clicked her tongue twice and they left the camp behind.
The three of them filtered through the trees before finding a rough path that led them to the road. They followed the path it wound through the mountains toward town, Lisa Lisa and Speedwagon keeping conversation while Joseph got to know his temporary horse. Just barely a stallion, he was even-tempered and easy to ride with a smooth gait. Joseph liked him, liked the feeling he got from riding the horse on the road. Slightly behind his mother and mentor under the afternoon sun, he could pretend he was riding out alone, off to fetch something for the camp like Speedwagon or out to suit his own whims like Straizo. Sometimes his mother would leave alone, too, more often now that Joseph was older. He liked that. He wanted that freedom, too.
The town seemed busy as they approached, a railroad station in the works beside a big mining project cutting into the side of the mountain. As they rode away from the project’s security patrols, Joseph noticed men further up the slope working to turn trees to lumber, and more men hauling it away in carts and wagons. Everything seemed to flow down to the river where it would be loaded onto boats and sold elsewhere. That’s where most of the money would be, then.
The place reeked of smoke and sweat and the funk of sludgy water. But the people here must not smell it. They seemed to be the type of folk who didn’t wrinkle their noses at too much, least of all the three newcomers riding right up to the general store.
“Let’s split up and meet back here in an hour or so,” Lisa Lisa said, pulling back her shirtsleeve to check her wristwatch. She often wore a shirt and trousers, as it allowed her to wear a holster at her side, something she stressed to Joseph was for their protection only. “See what this place has to show for itself.” She eyed Joseph. “And stay out of trouble.”
He grinned. “I’ll try my best.”
With a free hour to explore, Joseph figured the best place to start looking would be around the docks. A place like this might have one too many scruples about ensuring a patron was of-age in the saloon, so any gambling going on there would have to wait until someone older could investigate. But by the docks? He was willing to bet all the change in his pocket the sailors and dockhands wouldn’t give a shit how old he was, as long as he paid up when he lost.
Joseph usually did pay, when he lost. It was the losing that was unusual.
As expected, Joseph found a group of men huddled behind the post office near the docks. He wasn’t small enough anymore to slip among them like nothing more than a minor annoyance, so he hung back and watched on tiptoe.
Men stepped up to wager in a shell game, run by a sharp who looked almost Joseph’s age, if not a little older. Under a nest of close-cropped blond hair, green eyes lit up with a smile as the young man lifted matchboxes to show off the stones on the crate. Three boxes, two stones. Joseph caught this ruse early in the game. He grinned and waited for the first man to settle across the crate from the teenager.
“Ready to begin?” the blond youth asked. He spoke with an odd cadence, his voice accented like he was trying to push out any lingering foreignness and adopt the local drawl.
So, there was an English-speaking Italian swindler in this industrious little town. Joseph grinned, impressed and a little bit jealous at the stack of cash the kid had already amassed. He wondered if he could do better.
He wondered if he could steal any of it and get away clean.
“Yeah, kid, go ahead,” one man said, rolling his eyes at his friends. “Let’s see what you got.”
The icy smile the blond levelled back at the man made Joseph reconsider trying to steal from the sharp. “Small bets first. Quick, quick.” He tapped the middle of the crate, away from the game. The man counted out a few coins and laid them on the table. The swindler matches his bet. “Good. We begin.”
With a flick of his wrist, the teenager tossed all three matchboxes over the stones. Bearing a toothy smile, he shuffled the boxes around with the same ease as much older conmen. Joseph grinned when the youth paused, lifted a box to show off a stone, then returned to the shuffle with an increased fervor. Joseph tried to inch forward in the crowd to get a better look at the kid’s sleight of hand, but a sailor elbowed him back.
“Okay,” the shell sharp said at last. “Done.” He spread his hands apart in a wide gesture at the matchboxes.
The crowd pushed forward as the mark rubbed his clefted chin as he decided. “This one.” He pointed at the box on the far left, closest to the money.
A beguiling smile preceded the age-old question, “Are you sure?”
“Just show me,” the man scowls.
The teenager looked around, and Joseph thought those green eyes locked on his own for a moment, before they returned to the boxes. He lifted the selection and revealed a stone. “Lucky!” he said.
The mark grinned, and men in the crowd murmured as they exchanged cash between themselves.
“Another bet?” Blondie gestured to the money between him and his mark. “I can still match.”
“Sure,” the man said. “Double or nothing? Or a new round?”
“Double or nothing, of course.” Another charming, innocent smile. “What is a game without stakes?” The men laughed at that, and Joseph used the moment of amusement to wind through the onlookers. He stopped just short of the crate and crouched in a decent position to watch Blondie’s handiwork.
Money on the table, the teenager started shuffling again with the same flourish and ease as before. Joseph blinked but caught an extra flick in the mix, enough force to send a stone flying and caught instantly by the next box. Clever boy. Joseph would have assumed the young man would have found a way to hide a stone up his sleeve, or catch it under a cupped palm. But with two in one box, there was still the possibility he’d get caught. Two stones doesn’t make for an honest game.
There it went. Another flick, hidden behind a joke to which Joseph didn’t pay attention, and the blond teenager smoothly removed both stones from the crate. After several more seconds of shuffling, so identical to earlier Joseph wondered if he had made the whole thing up, and the man stopped. “Go ahead.” He spread his arms again. “Pick.”
It didn’t matter, but Joseph watched the man make his choice. “This one.”
“Are you sure?” Oh, the appearance of nerves and fear was a nice touch.
The mark grinned. “Can I double my bet one last time?”
Which was exactly what Joseph would want to hear, if he was in the teenager’s seat.
Blondie bit his lower lip and sighed. “Should I allow it?” he asked the crowd, to a resounding yes. The mark and the sharp add their money, the full take nearly five dollars.
Tension held the crowd in its grasp, each man watching with bated breath as the teenager milked the moment. With a gasp that Joseph almost believed was real, Blondie lifted the box revealing: nothing.
“Goddamn it!” roared the man. The sharp grabbed the cash before his mark shoved the crate. “You must have cheated!”
The money disappeared into his satchel as swiftly as the stones into his sleeves. “Look around you,” Blondie said. “This many eyes cannot be wrong, unless you also accuse your friends? I don’t think so.” He gestured at the crate. “Want to try to win it back?”
The man spat at him, and he sprang to his feet in a moment, all pretense of congeniality vanished. The tension holding the group together changed like a mirage shimmering in the heat as anticipation turned to anger. By the blaze in Blondie’s green eyes, this moment needed only the slightest nudge to tilt into violence.
His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, and with a grimace, he realized he found himself exactly where she said to avoid.
An unlikely escape appeared at the end of the alley in the form of two men, both in uniform. “It’s the law!” Joseph found himself shouting. “Everybody run!” He darted forward, grabbing the wrist of the young man, who lunged for his matchboxes. Joseph dragged him along for a few paces. Once they cleared the scramble of angry men, the teenager yelled at him in English and Italian while shaking his arm until Joseph let go.
Together, they ran down the alley. Joseph followed the older boy when he turned toward one path, then squeezed past a stack of shipping crates between two buildings to the relative freedom of the docks. Short-lived as it might be.
“There he is!” Joseph glanced over his shoulder. A few buildings away stood a group of onlookers from before, one man pointing them out. Several others turned, the unlucky gambler among them. “Get him!”
Beside him, the blond teenager turned to run toward land, slipping a bit on the soaked wood of the pier. Joseph kept pace beside him, running around more crates. Two men hoisted a long piece of lumber at waist-level and carried it toward a boat, blocking their path. Joseph kept running toward them, but Blondie backed up. Without stopping his escape, Joseph bent backwards at the hip, threw his arms out to keep balance, and slid beneath it in a way only children under a certain height can manage.
“Hey!” protested one of the men. “Watch it!”
Checking over his shoulder, Joseph watched the blond youth take a running start and clear the log in an impressive leap.
“Damn kids.”
The teenager stumbled on his landing but resumed running toward Joseph with an exhilarated laugh. Joseph grinned back, slowing to let Blondie catch up to him.
“What are you waiting for?” he yelled at Joseph, gesturing wildly for him to speed up. “Go, go, go!!”
They made it to the end of the dock, spinning around working men to avoid collisions and running away when they could, before another lawman appeared. “Gotcha.” He planted both feet apart and reached for them with both hands.
Joseph dropped into a crouch and tried to slide between his legs. A few months ago, he’d managed something like it easily.
Today, he knocked his forehead right into the lawman’s hip, and the man screamed. He hunched over and cupped his crotch, and in a stroke of luck for the law, he caught Joseph’s hair in his interlaced fingers.
Struggling to break free of the law, Joseph watched in horror as Blondie ran past them both. “Help me!”
The teenager didn’t even slow down.
Wriggling on the wood, steps from shore, Joseph pried one hand from its grip on his head. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes from the pain wrought on his scalp as the hand ripped some hair with it. He had to work quicker; he had no idea how close the angry mob was, or any other lawmen for that matter. Time was running out.
Footsteps approached. Joseph opened his eyes in time to see Blondie kick the lawman square on the ass, knocking him forward. He fell off Joseph, but not before the man pulled a few more hairs from Joseph’s head.
Blondie stretched out his hand. “Get up!”
Joseph took it.
They ran, twisting through the busy town to avoid getting caught again. At some point, Joseph dropped Blondie’s hand to dodge around a wagon. Blondie found a place for them to hide near the general store, squished in between half-empty crates while they waited for the search to subside.
This close, Joseph noticed details he wasn’t able to see earlier. On his cheekbones, under a smudge of mud gained during their escape, the teenager bore two identical marks. His hands, though fast, looked like they’d been in a fight recently from the half-healed scrapes. A yellowed bruise stains the far side of the older kid’s jaw, something that had been hidden from Joseph by the angle of sight.
The swindler looked at him. “We’re even.”
“What?”
“We’re even.” He scowled at repeating himself. “You got me out of that fight before it even started. I got you out of that man’s grasp before he could clap you in irons. So after this, stop following me. I don’t care which leisure parlor you’re working for, I won’t go. Not now, not ever.”
Joseph frowned and cocked his head. “I’m not working for a parlor.”
Surprise opened up the older kid’s features before they narrowed in suspicion. “You aren’t?”
Joseph shook his head earnestly.
“Then why were you there? They don’t let children work at the docks in this town.” He paused and peeked around the crates, checking if the coast was clear.
“I’m not a child. I’ll be fourteen this week.”
With a sigh and well-practiced eye roll, Blondie sat on the ground, laid the matchboxes down, and drew his knees to his chest. Joseph settled beside him in the same manner. “Don’t sit there,” he said immediately.
He didn’t move. “Why?”
“Just don’t,” the teenager spat. “You’re too close. I don’t know you.”
“Well, I’m Joseph.”
“I don’t care.”
Now it was Joseph’s turn to scowl. “I’m being polite.”
“Polite? Why, so we can be friends?” The teenager let out a haughty laugh. “Idiot. Who would want to be friends with you? You nearly got caught by some gun-for-hire with two left feet.” He spat to one side. Not on Joseph, or else he’d have swung a fist and Blondie never would have said, “Leave for whatever backwater country latrine you crawled out of, because you won’t last another hour in this town.”
Joseph sneered, eyes skimming over the older kid next to him. He should steal all the money the youth made earlier. It would serve him right. “You can drop the stones from your sleeves now, you know.”
Blondie’s head whipped around. “You saw that?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Of course I saw that,” Joseph scoffed. “And this town is hardly the biggest I’ve seen before.”
Simmering with discontent, the teenager dropped the pebbles into his palms, then into one of the matchboxes. Joseph used the chance to look for the money. Oh yeah. The satchel. Joseph peeked from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t even latched. He snorted, amused. Who was the idiot, again?
The older boy looked up at the muffled sound. “What?”
“You think you’re so tough and smart. But you aren’t,” Joseph says through pursed lips. He looked down his nose at the kid, or did his best impression of it. They were nearly the same height after all. Blondie might have a few inches on him, but that didn’t matter much to Joseph. “You wouldn’t last a week with me and my gang on the road.”
Blondie barked out his haughty laugh again. “Your gang? Of what, nursemaids?”
“Outlaws,” Joseph corrected. “Gunslingers.” He leaned in, grinning when the older boy leaned back, and rested a casual hand between them to prop himself up. “I’m one, too. I know how to shoot a gun. Can you say the same for yourself, Blondie?”
Wincing, the teenager blinked. “Blondie?” he asked with a frown.
“Since you won’t tell me your name.” Joseph reached up to flick his yellow bangs. When Blondie snapped his teeth in a threat of a bite, he withdrew his hand instantly.
Grinding his teeth, the other kid said, “I’m Caesar. So don’t call me Blondie again.”
“What kind of name is Caesar?” Joseph wrinkled his nose.
Caesar punched him on the shoulder.
“Ow!”
“A good one.” He crossed his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. “And shooting a gun is easy. You aren’t special.”
“Sure I am,” Joseph said. “Has anyone else caught on to your shell game trick after just one time?” Caesar rolled his eyes and turned his head away from Joseph, so Joseph leaned over again with a grin. “Shooting’s easy, sure. It’s aiming that’s the hard part. Betcha I’m a better shot than you.”
Caesar scoffs. “I doubt that.” He laid his cheek down atop his knees. “Doesn’t matter. Even if we had a pistol, which we don’t, a shooting match would get us caught quicker than your constant talking.”
“Oh, that’s convincing. There’s other ways to see who’s got the better aim between us.”
“Whatever.” Caesar turned back and narrowed his eyes. “Do you ever shut up?”
Joseph cocked an eyebrow. “Sometimes.” Talking with this kid, Caesar, was fun. Teasing him was fun. And stealing from him? Joseph bet that would be fun, too, once the time was right. “I think it’s safe to leave now.” He got to his feet and took a peek over the crates sheltering them in the alley. “I don’t hear them running around anymore.”
Beside him, Caesar got to his feet and joined him peering over the top of the boxes. Their hands were side by side, and Joseph took a closer look at those scraped knuckles. They looked hurt from throwing punches, not deflecting them. Stealing the money would lead to a fight as soon as it was discovered missing, so Joseph resolved to pinch it sneakily. Then he’d be long gone by the time Caesar would realize what had happened.
“I guess you’re right,” Caesar said. They dropped back down in unison. “Don’t follow me. It’s like I said.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time.” Joseph bent over to brush off his trousers, keeping an eye on Caesar. He waited until Caesar was preoccupied with the matchboxes to slip his fingers into the satchel and withdraw all the money he could grab. “We’re even.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Joseph looked to the sky and exhaled with a smile. “See you around, Caesar.”
To Joseph’s surprise, Caesar walked out with him. “I thought you weren’t going to follow me.”
“I’m not,” Joseph says. “I’m going my own way.” They stopped, Caesar blocking him from heading toward the front of the general store. “What’s with you?”
Caesar said nothing, just looked over Joseph like he was seeing him for the first time. Or trying to, by the way he was squinting. “What’s in your pockets?” he asked, rubbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. Caesar laid his other hand on his pouch.
With a dismissive buzz of his lips, Joseph pushed past him. “My hands.”
The next moment, Joseph found himself on his hands and knees on the ground, tripped by a quick twist of Caesar’s foot around his ankle. The cash in his pocket spilled on the ground. Joseph grabbed it up quickly, shoving it in his pocket as he turned over on his back.
Looking up into Caesar’s face was a mistake. His eyes were so very green, so very angry. “So that was your angle the whole time, was it?” He cracked his knuckles, one fist at a time. Ah, shit. There went Plan A.
Time for Plan B.
Joseph rolled away, got to his feet, and ran like hell.
“Hey! Get back here!” Caesar shouted as he gave chase.
A ridiculous waste of breath. Caesar wasn’t the law, and even if he was, Joseph wasn’t going to stop. He pumped his legs beneath him, every footstep bringing him out of the shadow of the alley and closer to the daylight of the street.
He burst out from between the buildings and almost knocked right into Speedwagon. “Watch it!” Speedwagon said, jumping out of his way. Joseph skidded to a stop.
Caesar wasn’t so lucky. He darted headfirst into the person standing beside Speedwagon, which just happened to be Joseph’s mother. Caesar bounced back from the force of the impact and landed on the ground. “Oof!”
“Lisa Lisa, are you alright?” Speedwagon asked.
She stumbled back, but appeared otherwise unflapped by the incident. “I’m not the person we need to be asking.” Lisa Lisa raised an eyebrow at her son. “What did you do now?”
From his place on the ground, Caesar covered his nose with one hand and groaned. “He stole from me, ma’am.” His voice was muffled and nasal, like he’d been injured, but Joseph hadn’t seen him start bleeding. “Stole every penny I had.”
Joseph crossed his arms. Caesar was obviously faking it. “He’s lying,” he insisted. “And he stole first.”
“I didn’t steal from you!” Caesar shot back.
Joseph frowned. “You would have if I’d gotten a chance to make a bet on your stupid fixed shell game.”
Speedwagon hid a smile behind a cough.
Lisa Lisa bent over Caesar. “Are you okay? Where’s your family?” she asked. To Joseph, she added, “Give him back his money.”
“I don’t have his money!”
“JoJo,” Speedwagon sounded tired. He gave Joseph an encouraging pat on the back. “You know the rules.”
Letting himself be helped to his feet by Lisa Lisa, Caesar said, “I’m fine now, ma’am. Thank you for your kindness.” No blood on his face, no swelling on his nose! Joseph knew he’d been faking. “I just need my money back and I’ll be on my way.”
Lisa Lisa smiled, and Joseph knew what was coming next. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Which question was that?” Caesar blinked innocently. “I’m not sure I get your meaning, ma’am.”
“Your family,” she said. “We’ll take you to them.”
Joseph enjoyed watching Caesar try to squirm out of his mother’s grip. “That won’t be needed,” he said. “I’m paying my own way now. Staying on my own.” Caesar glared at him. “Which is why I need my money.”
Lisa Lisa released Caesar and gestured at Joseph wordlessly. With an irritated sigh, Joseph obeyed her, dragging his feet toward them. He shoved his hand back into his pocket and shook his fist, full of crumpled up dollar bills, at Caesar. “Here’s your damn money.”
With his mouth drawn in a tight line, not quite hostile, Caesar snatched his money back. He stuffed it in his satchel. Was that an extra jiggle of his arm?
“There,” Lisa Lisa said. “That’s settled. Just a few more things.”
Caesar’s brow furrowed. “A few?”
Speedwagon nodded, stepping closer to the group. “First, we’ll need to go with you to collect your things from wherever you’re staying.”
“Why?” Caesar and Joseph asked in unison. They glared at each other.
Speedwagon smiled. “We’ve got an extra bedroll and a warm supper waiting. You won’t be the first stray we’ve picked up, and somehow I doubt you’ll be the last.”
Caesar shook his head vehemently. “Thanks, but no thanks. I can take care of myself.” He held his head high, chin jutted out in pride as he added, “I know there’s no such thing as a free ride.”
Laughing, Lisa Lisa grabbed his wrist. “Oh, you’ll pay your way just fine, I imagine. You’re already a good thief. Why don’t you give me back my watch?” Caesar glanced up at her, shocked. “We’ll make a fine conman out of you yet.”
“I knew it!” Joseph exclaimed, pointing at Caesar. “You used that same trick you did with the shell game.” He mimicked the shake of Caesar’s arm with both his own. “Keeps getting stuck on your palms, doesn’t it?”
“Shut up,” Caesar snapped. “You talk too much.”
“Oh, now we have to keep him,” Lisa Lisa said to Speedwagon, who laughed uproariously.
Joseph glanced at Caesar, whose gaze was trained further down the road. Following his line of sight, Joseph noticed half a dozen men slowly approaching the four of them. They looked familiar. Angry.
Joseph exchanged a nervous look with Caesar. Then it clicked. The men from earlier had found them again.
“Excuse me,” one of them called out. Joseph recognized his voice as the mark from before. “We have some business with that street rat there.” He pointed at Caesar.
Lisa Lisa raised an eyebrow. “And what business is that?”
“Ma’am, just hand him over and we’ll be on our way. It’s nothing a pretty face like yourself needs to be worrying your lovely little head about. Even if you wear men’s clothing, you’re still just a woman.” The man’s condescension was as present as a slap in the face. “If he’s scammed you, too, let me know. I’ll make sure he feels real sorry about it.”
From behind, Speedwagon rested a heavy hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “Is that so,” he said.
“Yeah.” The mark cleared his throat and spat a big lump of mucus to one side. A few other angry men ambled into place, quietly forming a semi-circle cutting them off from the road. “What’s it to you, old man?”
“I am not so old,” Speedwagon said evenly. He tightened his grip on Joseph and drew him closer.
Joseph glanced to one side. More men over there, blocking the path to their three horses. Closing in. He bit the inside of his cheek to hide a grin. This group of dockhands thought they posed a threat. They were angry and unskilled, based on what Joseph had seen earlier. If Joseph were alone, they’d make trouble for him again. But his mother and Speedwagon?
The first mistake the men made had been approaching Joseph’s group.
The second was the moment a man tried to lay a hand on Lisa Lisa.
With the same cool expression, she grabbed two of his fingers and snapped them back over his wrist with such force that Joseph heard them break. The man screamed.
All hell broke loose.
Two men lunged for Speedwagon, and another for Lisa Lisa. Speedwagon pushed Joseph away as he blocked their attacks one after the other. Lisa Lisa kept Caesar at her side while she dodged, then retaliated by driving the heel of her boot into the man’s groin.
The hair on the back of Joseph’s neck stood on end, a split-second warning before another assailant tried to grab him. He leapt forward into a roll that took him safely out of the man’s reach.
Glancing back, Joseph saw one of the men who attacked Speedwagon fall flat on his ass after taking a punch to the face. The other circled around to land a blow on his side. Speedwagon doubled over, wheezing to catch his breath, and used a forearm to block another strike.
Joseph wanted to race over to help him, but the man he’d just dodged lumbered into view. “All four of you were in on that shell game scam, weren’t you?”
From his defensive crouch on the ground, Joseph picked up a clod of dirt and threw it at the man, striking him between the eyes. Now that his attacker was distracted and his eyes were squeezed shut, Joseph scrambled to his feet and threw all his weight into tackling the man to the ground. He sat on the man’s chest and battered his face with his fists until Joseph was certain he wouldn’t get back up for a good long while.
As he got to his feet, Joseph looked over at Speedwagon. He had his last assailant on the ropes; one or two more well-placed punches would send him down for the count. Lisa Lisa had soundly beaten the other man who came at her and Caesar.
All that was left was the last man, who had grabbed Caesar from her grasp with both hands around the youth’s throat. Caesar struggled, scratching at the man’s eyes, until Lisa Lisa pulled out her five-shot pistol. She flipped it around, wielding it by its barrel, then conked the man on the back of the head with the butt of the grip. He went down, hard. And stayed down.
Joseph realized they’d drawn a crowd as people reacted to the outcome of the fight with heckles or cheers. Eventually, the spell broke, and onlookers trickled away to mind their own business.
Helping Caesar to his feet again, Lisa Lisa asked, “You alright, kid?”
Caesar looked up at her, jaw slack and green eyes wide. “You took down three men like it was nothing.” His voice was full of awe.
She nodded. “And now we need to move quickly. Come along.” Lisa Lisa paused, then extended her hand out to Caesar one last time. “But first, my watch.”
Looking for Speedwagon, Joseph found him unhitching their horses from the post before the general store. “JoJo, you’ll need to share with your new friend,” Speedwagon said as Joseph jogged toward him.
“We aren’t friends,” Joseph corrected. He helped unhitch the horse he rode into town. “Why me?”
“You found him.” Speedwagon shrugged as if that was a suitable explanation. Anticipating Joseph’s reaction, he added, “Don’t worry. It’ll just be for the ride back.”
No amount of protest mattered, no quality of argument swayed either Speedwagon or Lisa Lisa, which is how Joseph came to find himself astride the blue dun stallion, Caesar sitting behind him. Lisa Lisa led their group and Speedwagon brought up the rear on the ride back toward camp.
“I still don’t like you,” Joseph said.
“Well, I still don’t like you either,” Caesar retorted. “Even if your mother fights like the devil himself.”
Unrated, no beta, 5.4k
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15 YEARS AGO...
They’d found a suitable spot outside of town for their caravan, and Joseph had long grown tired of being jostled in the wagon bed by the time they stopped to make camp. He’d be fourteen in a few days, grown enough to ride a horse like the other men, or at the very least, a pony. It was about damn time.
“Soon enough, JoJo. Now here,” his mother said and pressed a tent canvas into his hands. “Find a place for us to set this up.”
Everyone helped, that was the rule since they had set out to walk this path, to live this life. But today, he hated it. It was monotonous, the riding and stopping and pitching and packing. It had been a while since anything exciting happened. His mother often talked with Speedwagon and Straizo about how much money they were making. Shouldn’t that mean something? They could buy a ranch or some other plot of land with enough space for them all to live. And Joseph could finally get his own horse.
Though if they settle down, he’d probably have to give up working the gambling houses with everyone. Stealing from rich men was a game, and he was good at it. A hole in his plan he still needed to fill.
Eventually, the camp reached working order, enough that his mother and Speedwagon decided to take a trip into the nearby town. They’d mentioned the name earlier, but Joseph didn’t remember it. Something-burg. By now, most of the towns all felt the same to him. Except New York City, but that was hardly a town. That was before they left Granny for a life out west, before everything went bad. It was getting harder to remember why.
He stood beside the horses and crossed his arms. “I’m getting too big to ride with you,” he said. “I’m thirteen. How come you’re teaching me to use a gun before I get my own horse?”
His mother sighed from astride her horse. She twisted her hair up into her hat as she spoke. “How much do you think it costs to maintain a horse, JoJo?”
“Straizo has two horses but only one ass to sit on `em.”
Speedwagon laughed as he approached them, leading two horses, one of which was his own Doughty, a black Shire gelding with a striking blaze and white stockings. “A spare is a good idea, and he’s old enough to pay for them both. You will be too, someday, but this fella we stole earlier should suit you for now.” Speedwagon offered Joseph the reins of the other horse, a blue dun stallion. “Here. Check the saddle and let’s be on our way.”
“Robert,” his mother said reproachfully.
“Come now, Lisa Lisa, the boy’s right. He’s almost a head taller than he was six months ago, and he’s only going to keep shooting up.” Speedwagon mounted his horse before he continued. “I wouldn’t be shocked if he ends up as big as his father, or bigger. Seems to take after that side of the family, after all.”
She sighed again. “That’s what I’m worried about. Come on.” She clicked her tongue twice and they left the camp behind.
The three of them filtered through the trees before finding a rough path that led them to the road. They followed the path it wound through the mountains toward town, Lisa Lisa and Speedwagon keeping conversation while Joseph got to know his temporary horse. Just barely a stallion, he was even-tempered and easy to ride with a smooth gait. Joseph liked him, liked the feeling he got from riding the horse on the road. Slightly behind his mother and mentor under the afternoon sun, he could pretend he was riding out alone, off to fetch something for the camp like Speedwagon or out to suit his own whims like Straizo. Sometimes his mother would leave alone, too, more often now that Joseph was older. He liked that. He wanted that freedom, too.
The town seemed busy as they approached, a railroad station in the works beside a big mining project cutting into the side of the mountain. As they rode away from the project’s security patrols, Joseph noticed men further up the slope working to turn trees to lumber, and more men hauling it away in carts and wagons. Everything seemed to flow down to the river where it would be loaded onto boats and sold elsewhere. That’s where most of the money would be, then.
The place reeked of smoke and sweat and the funk of sludgy water. But the people here must not smell it. They seemed to be the type of folk who didn’t wrinkle their noses at too much, least of all the three newcomers riding right up to the general store.
“Let’s split up and meet back here in an hour or so,” Lisa Lisa said, pulling back her shirtsleeve to check her wristwatch. She often wore a shirt and trousers, as it allowed her to wear a holster at her side, something she stressed to Joseph was for their protection only. “See what this place has to show for itself.” She eyed Joseph. “And stay out of trouble.”
He grinned. “I’ll try my best.”
With a free hour to explore, Joseph figured the best place to start looking would be around the docks. A place like this might have one too many scruples about ensuring a patron was of-age in the saloon, so any gambling going on there would have to wait until someone older could investigate. But by the docks? He was willing to bet all the change in his pocket the sailors and dockhands wouldn’t give a shit how old he was, as long as he paid up when he lost.
Joseph usually did pay, when he lost. It was the losing that was unusual.
As expected, Joseph found a group of men huddled behind the post office near the docks. He wasn’t small enough anymore to slip among them like nothing more than a minor annoyance, so he hung back and watched on tiptoe.
Men stepped up to wager in a shell game, run by a sharp who looked almost Joseph’s age, if not a little older. Under a nest of close-cropped blond hair, green eyes lit up with a smile as the young man lifted matchboxes to show off the stones on the crate. Three boxes, two stones. Joseph caught this ruse early in the game. He grinned and waited for the first man to settle across the crate from the teenager.
“Ready to begin?” the blond youth asked. He spoke with an odd cadence, his voice accented like he was trying to push out any lingering foreignness and adopt the local drawl.
So, there was an English-speaking Italian swindler in this industrious little town. Joseph grinned, impressed and a little bit jealous at the stack of cash the kid had already amassed. He wondered if he could do better.
He wondered if he could steal any of it and get away clean.
“Yeah, kid, go ahead,” one man said, rolling his eyes at his friends. “Let’s see what you got.”
The icy smile the blond levelled back at the man made Joseph reconsider trying to steal from the sharp. “Small bets first. Quick, quick.” He tapped the middle of the crate, away from the game. The man counted out a few coins and laid them on the table. The swindler matches his bet. “Good. We begin.”
With a flick of his wrist, the teenager tossed all three matchboxes over the stones. Bearing a toothy smile, he shuffled the boxes around with the same ease as much older conmen. Joseph grinned when the youth paused, lifted a box to show off a stone, then returned to the shuffle with an increased fervor. Joseph tried to inch forward in the crowd to get a better look at the kid’s sleight of hand, but a sailor elbowed him back.
“Okay,” the shell sharp said at last. “Done.” He spread his hands apart in a wide gesture at the matchboxes.
The crowd pushed forward as the mark rubbed his clefted chin as he decided. “This one.” He pointed at the box on the far left, closest to the money.
A beguiling smile preceded the age-old question, “Are you sure?”
“Just show me,” the man scowls.
The teenager looked around, and Joseph thought those green eyes locked on his own for a moment, before they returned to the boxes. He lifted the selection and revealed a stone. “Lucky!” he said.
The mark grinned, and men in the crowd murmured as they exchanged cash between themselves.
“Another bet?” Blondie gestured to the money between him and his mark. “I can still match.”
“Sure,” the man said. “Double or nothing? Or a new round?”
“Double or nothing, of course.” Another charming, innocent smile. “What is a game without stakes?” The men laughed at that, and Joseph used the moment of amusement to wind through the onlookers. He stopped just short of the crate and crouched in a decent position to watch Blondie’s handiwork.
Money on the table, the teenager started shuffling again with the same flourish and ease as before. Joseph blinked but caught an extra flick in the mix, enough force to send a stone flying and caught instantly by the next box. Clever boy. Joseph would have assumed the young man would have found a way to hide a stone up his sleeve, or catch it under a cupped palm. But with two in one box, there was still the possibility he’d get caught. Two stones doesn’t make for an honest game.
There it went. Another flick, hidden behind a joke to which Joseph didn’t pay attention, and the blond teenager smoothly removed both stones from the crate. After several more seconds of shuffling, so identical to earlier Joseph wondered if he had made the whole thing up, and the man stopped. “Go ahead.” He spread his arms again. “Pick.”
It didn’t matter, but Joseph watched the man make his choice. “This one.”
“Are you sure?” Oh, the appearance of nerves and fear was a nice touch.
The mark grinned. “Can I double my bet one last time?”
Which was exactly what Joseph would want to hear, if he was in the teenager’s seat.
Blondie bit his lower lip and sighed. “Should I allow it?” he asked the crowd, to a resounding yes. The mark and the sharp add their money, the full take nearly five dollars.
Tension held the crowd in its grasp, each man watching with bated breath as the teenager milked the moment. With a gasp that Joseph almost believed was real, Blondie lifted the box revealing: nothing.
“Goddamn it!” roared the man. The sharp grabbed the cash before his mark shoved the crate. “You must have cheated!”
The money disappeared into his satchel as swiftly as the stones into his sleeves. “Look around you,” Blondie said. “This many eyes cannot be wrong, unless you also accuse your friends? I don’t think so.” He gestured at the crate. “Want to try to win it back?”
The man spat at him, and he sprang to his feet in a moment, all pretense of congeniality vanished. The tension holding the group together changed like a mirage shimmering in the heat as anticipation turned to anger. By the blaze in Blondie’s green eyes, this moment needed only the slightest nudge to tilt into violence.
His mother’s voice echoed in his mind, and with a grimace, he realized he found himself exactly where she said to avoid.
An unlikely escape appeared at the end of the alley in the form of two men, both in uniform. “It’s the law!” Joseph found himself shouting. “Everybody run!” He darted forward, grabbing the wrist of the young man, who lunged for his matchboxes. Joseph dragged him along for a few paces. Once they cleared the scramble of angry men, the teenager yelled at him in English and Italian while shaking his arm until Joseph let go.
Together, they ran down the alley. Joseph followed the older boy when he turned toward one path, then squeezed past a stack of shipping crates between two buildings to the relative freedom of the docks. Short-lived as it might be.
“There he is!” Joseph glanced over his shoulder. A few buildings away stood a group of onlookers from before, one man pointing them out. Several others turned, the unlucky gambler among them. “Get him!”
Beside him, the blond teenager turned to run toward land, slipping a bit on the soaked wood of the pier. Joseph kept pace beside him, running around more crates. Two men hoisted a long piece of lumber at waist-level and carried it toward a boat, blocking their path. Joseph kept running toward them, but Blondie backed up. Without stopping his escape, Joseph bent backwards at the hip, threw his arms out to keep balance, and slid beneath it in a way only children under a certain height can manage.
“Hey!” protested one of the men. “Watch it!”
Checking over his shoulder, Joseph watched the blond youth take a running start and clear the log in an impressive leap.
“Damn kids.”
The teenager stumbled on his landing but resumed running toward Joseph with an exhilarated laugh. Joseph grinned back, slowing to let Blondie catch up to him.
“What are you waiting for?” he yelled at Joseph, gesturing wildly for him to speed up. “Go, go, go!!”
They made it to the end of the dock, spinning around working men to avoid collisions and running away when they could, before another lawman appeared. “Gotcha.” He planted both feet apart and reached for them with both hands.
Joseph dropped into a crouch and tried to slide between his legs. A few months ago, he’d managed something like it easily.
Today, he knocked his forehead right into the lawman’s hip, and the man screamed. He hunched over and cupped his crotch, and in a stroke of luck for the law, he caught Joseph’s hair in his interlaced fingers.
Struggling to break free of the law, Joseph watched in horror as Blondie ran past them both. “Help me!”
The teenager didn’t even slow down.
Wriggling on the wood, steps from shore, Joseph pried one hand from its grip on his head. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes from the pain wrought on his scalp as the hand ripped some hair with it. He had to work quicker; he had no idea how close the angry mob was, or any other lawmen for that matter. Time was running out.
Footsteps approached. Joseph opened his eyes in time to see Blondie kick the lawman square on the ass, knocking him forward. He fell off Joseph, but not before the man pulled a few more hairs from Joseph’s head.
Blondie stretched out his hand. “Get up!”
Joseph took it.
They ran, twisting through the busy town to avoid getting caught again. At some point, Joseph dropped Blondie’s hand to dodge around a wagon. Blondie found a place for them to hide near the general store, squished in between half-empty crates while they waited for the search to subside.
This close, Joseph noticed details he wasn’t able to see earlier. On his cheekbones, under a smudge of mud gained during their escape, the teenager bore two identical marks. His hands, though fast, looked like they’d been in a fight recently from the half-healed scrapes. A yellowed bruise stains the far side of the older kid’s jaw, something that had been hidden from Joseph by the angle of sight.
The swindler looked at him. “We’re even.”
“What?”
“We’re even.” He scowled at repeating himself. “You got me out of that fight before it even started. I got you out of that man’s grasp before he could clap you in irons. So after this, stop following me. I don’t care which leisure parlor you’re working for, I won’t go. Not now, not ever.”
Joseph frowned and cocked his head. “I’m not working for a parlor.”
Surprise opened up the older kid’s features before they narrowed in suspicion. “You aren’t?”
Joseph shook his head earnestly.
“Then why were you there? They don’t let children work at the docks in this town.” He paused and peeked around the crates, checking if the coast was clear.
“I’m not a child. I’ll be fourteen this week.”
With a sigh and well-practiced eye roll, Blondie sat on the ground, laid the matchboxes down, and drew his knees to his chest. Joseph settled beside him in the same manner. “Don’t sit there,” he said immediately.
He didn’t move. “Why?”
“Just don’t,” the teenager spat. “You’re too close. I don’t know you.”
“Well, I’m Joseph.”
“I don’t care.”
Now it was Joseph’s turn to scowl. “I’m being polite.”
“Polite? Why, so we can be friends?” The teenager let out a haughty laugh. “Idiot. Who would want to be friends with you? You nearly got caught by some gun-for-hire with two left feet.” He spat to one side. Not on Joseph, or else he’d have swung a fist and Blondie never would have said, “Leave for whatever backwater country latrine you crawled out of, because you won’t last another hour in this town.”
Joseph sneered, eyes skimming over the older kid next to him. He should steal all the money the youth made earlier. It would serve him right. “You can drop the stones from your sleeves now, you know.”
Blondie’s head whipped around. “You saw that?” he asked, eyes wide.
“Of course I saw that,” Joseph scoffed. “And this town is hardly the biggest I’ve seen before.”
Simmering with discontent, the teenager dropped the pebbles into his palms, then into one of the matchboxes. Joseph used the chance to look for the money. Oh yeah. The satchel. Joseph peeked from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t even latched. He snorted, amused. Who was the idiot, again?
The older boy looked up at the muffled sound. “What?”
“You think you’re so tough and smart. But you aren’t,” Joseph says through pursed lips. He looked down his nose at the kid, or did his best impression of it. They were nearly the same height after all. Blondie might have a few inches on him, but that didn’t matter much to Joseph. “You wouldn’t last a week with me and my gang on the road.”
Blondie barked out his haughty laugh again. “Your gang? Of what, nursemaids?”
“Outlaws,” Joseph corrected. “Gunslingers.” He leaned in, grinning when the older boy leaned back, and rested a casual hand between them to prop himself up. “I’m one, too. I know how to shoot a gun. Can you say the same for yourself, Blondie?”
Wincing, the teenager blinked. “Blondie?” he asked with a frown.
“Since you won’t tell me your name.” Joseph reached up to flick his yellow bangs. When Blondie snapped his teeth in a threat of a bite, he withdrew his hand instantly.
Grinding his teeth, the other kid said, “I’m Caesar. So don’t call me Blondie again.”
“What kind of name is Caesar?” Joseph wrinkled his nose.
Caesar punched him on the shoulder.
“Ow!”
“A good one.” He crossed his arms around his legs and rested his chin on his knees. “And shooting a gun is easy. You aren’t special.”
“Sure I am,” Joseph said. “Has anyone else caught on to your shell game trick after just one time?” Caesar rolled his eyes and turned his head away from Joseph, so Joseph leaned over again with a grin. “Shooting’s easy, sure. It’s aiming that’s the hard part. Betcha I’m a better shot than you.”
Caesar scoffs. “I doubt that.” He laid his cheek down atop his knees. “Doesn’t matter. Even if we had a pistol, which we don’t, a shooting match would get us caught quicker than your constant talking.”
“Oh, that’s convincing. There’s other ways to see who’s got the better aim between us.”
“Whatever.” Caesar turned back and narrowed his eyes. “Do you ever shut up?”
Joseph cocked an eyebrow. “Sometimes.” Talking with this kid, Caesar, was fun. Teasing him was fun. And stealing from him? Joseph bet that would be fun, too, once the time was right. “I think it’s safe to leave now.” He got to his feet and took a peek over the crates sheltering them in the alley. “I don’t hear them running around anymore.”
Beside him, Caesar got to his feet and joined him peering over the top of the boxes. Their hands were side by side, and Joseph took a closer look at those scraped knuckles. They looked hurt from throwing punches, not deflecting them. Stealing the money would lead to a fight as soon as it was discovered missing, so Joseph resolved to pinch it sneakily. Then he’d be long gone by the time Caesar would realize what had happened.
“I guess you’re right,” Caesar said. They dropped back down in unison. “Don’t follow me. It’s like I said.”
“Yeah, I heard you the first time.” Joseph bent over to brush off his trousers, keeping an eye on Caesar. He waited until Caesar was preoccupied with the matchboxes to slip his fingers into the satchel and withdraw all the money he could grab. “We’re even.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Joseph looked to the sky and exhaled with a smile. “See you around, Caesar.”
To Joseph’s surprise, Caesar walked out with him. “I thought you weren’t going to follow me.”
“I’m not,” Joseph says. “I’m going my own way.” They stopped, Caesar blocking him from heading toward the front of the general store. “What’s with you?”
Caesar said nothing, just looked over Joseph like he was seeing him for the first time. Or trying to, by the way he was squinting. “What’s in your pockets?” he asked, rubbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. Caesar laid his other hand on his pouch.
With a dismissive buzz of his lips, Joseph pushed past him. “My hands.”
The next moment, Joseph found himself on his hands and knees on the ground, tripped by a quick twist of Caesar’s foot around his ankle. The cash in his pocket spilled on the ground. Joseph grabbed it up quickly, shoving it in his pocket as he turned over on his back.
Looking up into Caesar’s face was a mistake. His eyes were so very green, so very angry. “So that was your angle the whole time, was it?” He cracked his knuckles, one fist at a time. Ah, shit. There went Plan A.
Time for Plan B.
Joseph rolled away, got to his feet, and ran like hell.
“Hey! Get back here!” Caesar shouted as he gave chase.
A ridiculous waste of breath. Caesar wasn’t the law, and even if he was, Joseph wasn’t going to stop. He pumped his legs beneath him, every footstep bringing him out of the shadow of the alley and closer to the daylight of the street.
He burst out from between the buildings and almost knocked right into Speedwagon. “Watch it!” Speedwagon said, jumping out of his way. Joseph skidded to a stop.
Caesar wasn’t so lucky. He darted headfirst into the person standing beside Speedwagon, which just happened to be Joseph’s mother. Caesar bounced back from the force of the impact and landed on the ground. “Oof!”
“Lisa Lisa, are you alright?” Speedwagon asked.
She stumbled back, but appeared otherwise unflapped by the incident. “I’m not the person we need to be asking.” Lisa Lisa raised an eyebrow at her son. “What did you do now?”
From his place on the ground, Caesar covered his nose with one hand and groaned. “He stole from me, ma’am.” His voice was muffled and nasal, like he’d been injured, but Joseph hadn’t seen him start bleeding. “Stole every penny I had.”
Joseph crossed his arms. Caesar was obviously faking it. “He’s lying,” he insisted. “And he stole first.”
“I didn’t steal from you!” Caesar shot back.
Joseph frowned. “You would have if I’d gotten a chance to make a bet on your stupid fixed shell game.”
Speedwagon hid a smile behind a cough.
Lisa Lisa bent over Caesar. “Are you okay? Where’s your family?” she asked. To Joseph, she added, “Give him back his money.”
“I don’t have his money!”
“JoJo,” Speedwagon sounded tired. He gave Joseph an encouraging pat on the back. “You know the rules.”
Letting himself be helped to his feet by Lisa Lisa, Caesar said, “I’m fine now, ma’am. Thank you for your kindness.” No blood on his face, no swelling on his nose! Joseph knew he’d been faking. “I just need my money back and I’ll be on my way.”
Lisa Lisa smiled, and Joseph knew what was coming next. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Which question was that?” Caesar blinked innocently. “I’m not sure I get your meaning, ma’am.”
“Your family,” she said. “We’ll take you to them.”
Joseph enjoyed watching Caesar try to squirm out of his mother’s grip. “That won’t be needed,” he said. “I’m paying my own way now. Staying on my own.” Caesar glared at him. “Which is why I need my money.”
Lisa Lisa released Caesar and gestured at Joseph wordlessly. With an irritated sigh, Joseph obeyed her, dragging his feet toward them. He shoved his hand back into his pocket and shook his fist, full of crumpled up dollar bills, at Caesar. “Here’s your damn money.”
With his mouth drawn in a tight line, not quite hostile, Caesar snatched his money back. He stuffed it in his satchel. Was that an extra jiggle of his arm?
“There,” Lisa Lisa said. “That’s settled. Just a few more things.”
Caesar’s brow furrowed. “A few?”
Speedwagon nodded, stepping closer to the group. “First, we’ll need to go with you to collect your things from wherever you’re staying.”
“Why?” Caesar and Joseph asked in unison. They glared at each other.
Speedwagon smiled. “We’ve got an extra bedroll and a warm supper waiting. You won’t be the first stray we’ve picked up, and somehow I doubt you’ll be the last.”
Caesar shook his head vehemently. “Thanks, but no thanks. I can take care of myself.” He held his head high, chin jutted out in pride as he added, “I know there’s no such thing as a free ride.”
Laughing, Lisa Lisa grabbed his wrist. “Oh, you’ll pay your way just fine, I imagine. You’re already a good thief. Why don’t you give me back my watch?” Caesar glanced up at her, shocked. “We’ll make a fine conman out of you yet.”
“I knew it!” Joseph exclaimed, pointing at Caesar. “You used that same trick you did with the shell game.” He mimicked the shake of Caesar’s arm with both his own. “Keeps getting stuck on your palms, doesn’t it?”
“Shut up,” Caesar snapped. “You talk too much.”
“Oh, now we have to keep him,” Lisa Lisa said to Speedwagon, who laughed uproariously.
Joseph glanced at Caesar, whose gaze was trained further down the road. Following his line of sight, Joseph noticed half a dozen men slowly approaching the four of them. They looked familiar. Angry.
Joseph exchanged a nervous look with Caesar. Then it clicked. The men from earlier had found them again.
“Excuse me,” one of them called out. Joseph recognized his voice as the mark from before. “We have some business with that street rat there.” He pointed at Caesar.
Lisa Lisa raised an eyebrow. “And what business is that?”
“Ma’am, just hand him over and we’ll be on our way. It’s nothing a pretty face like yourself needs to be worrying your lovely little head about. Even if you wear men’s clothing, you’re still just a woman.” The man’s condescension was as present as a slap in the face. “If he’s scammed you, too, let me know. I’ll make sure he feels real sorry about it.”
From behind, Speedwagon rested a heavy hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “Is that so,” he said.
“Yeah.” The mark cleared his throat and spat a big lump of mucus to one side. A few other angry men ambled into place, quietly forming a semi-circle cutting them off from the road. “What’s it to you, old man?”
“I am not so old,” Speedwagon said evenly. He tightened his grip on Joseph and drew him closer.
Joseph glanced to one side. More men over there, blocking the path to their three horses. Closing in. He bit the inside of his cheek to hide a grin. This group of dockhands thought they posed a threat. They were angry and unskilled, based on what Joseph had seen earlier. If Joseph were alone, they’d make trouble for him again. But his mother and Speedwagon?
The first mistake the men made had been approaching Joseph’s group.
The second was the moment a man tried to lay a hand on Lisa Lisa.
With the same cool expression, she grabbed two of his fingers and snapped them back over his wrist with such force that Joseph heard them break. The man screamed.
All hell broke loose.
Two men lunged for Speedwagon, and another for Lisa Lisa. Speedwagon pushed Joseph away as he blocked their attacks one after the other. Lisa Lisa kept Caesar at her side while she dodged, then retaliated by driving the heel of her boot into the man’s groin.
The hair on the back of Joseph’s neck stood on end, a split-second warning before another assailant tried to grab him. He leapt forward into a roll that took him safely out of the man’s reach.
Glancing back, Joseph saw one of the men who attacked Speedwagon fall flat on his ass after taking a punch to the face. The other circled around to land a blow on his side. Speedwagon doubled over, wheezing to catch his breath, and used a forearm to block another strike.
Joseph wanted to race over to help him, but the man he’d just dodged lumbered into view. “All four of you were in on that shell game scam, weren’t you?”
From his defensive crouch on the ground, Joseph picked up a clod of dirt and threw it at the man, striking him between the eyes. Now that his attacker was distracted and his eyes were squeezed shut, Joseph scrambled to his feet and threw all his weight into tackling the man to the ground. He sat on the man’s chest and battered his face with his fists until Joseph was certain he wouldn’t get back up for a good long while.
As he got to his feet, Joseph looked over at Speedwagon. He had his last assailant on the ropes; one or two more well-placed punches would send him down for the count. Lisa Lisa had soundly beaten the other man who came at her and Caesar.
All that was left was the last man, who had grabbed Caesar from her grasp with both hands around the youth’s throat. Caesar struggled, scratching at the man’s eyes, until Lisa Lisa pulled out her five-shot pistol. She flipped it around, wielding it by its barrel, then conked the man on the back of the head with the butt of the grip. He went down, hard. And stayed down.
Joseph realized they’d drawn a crowd as people reacted to the outcome of the fight with heckles or cheers. Eventually, the spell broke, and onlookers trickled away to mind their own business.
Helping Caesar to his feet again, Lisa Lisa asked, “You alright, kid?”
Caesar looked up at her, jaw slack and green eyes wide. “You took down three men like it was nothing.” His voice was full of awe.
She nodded. “And now we need to move quickly. Come along.” Lisa Lisa paused, then extended her hand out to Caesar one last time. “But first, my watch.”
Looking for Speedwagon, Joseph found him unhitching their horses from the post before the general store. “JoJo, you’ll need to share with your new friend,” Speedwagon said as Joseph jogged toward him.
“We aren’t friends,” Joseph corrected. He helped unhitch the horse he rode into town. “Why me?”
“You found him.” Speedwagon shrugged as if that was a suitable explanation. Anticipating Joseph’s reaction, he added, “Don’t worry. It’ll just be for the ride back.”
No amount of protest mattered, no quality of argument swayed either Speedwagon or Lisa Lisa, which is how Joseph came to find himself astride the blue dun stallion, Caesar sitting behind him. Lisa Lisa led their group and Speedwagon brought up the rear on the ride back toward camp.
“I still don’t like you,” Joseph said.
“Well, I still don’t like you either,” Caesar retorted. “Even if your mother fights like the devil himself.”
