Lucas and Morgan: The Epic Continues Forum Highwaymen

We were being followed. 

Behind us, the misty haze parted barely long enough to make out a ghostly outline: the horse and rider. Our time was up, just like Logan said; the bounty hunter was upon us. "Let's make haste, Jason." I whispered, my teeth on edge. I'm suddenly feeling very sick. "We can take him, Morgan. Your mind and my gun, he doesn't stand a chance. We don't need to scatter like sheep." He pulls at his hat, then his gun. I want to run away, let the bounty hunter take Jason in and never see a horse again. "This is not the Emerald Sun, and we don't have a crew. Let's go." I spur my horse. Maybe his black hide will help me meld into the night. "Where did you learn to be so cowardly?" he spits into the mud near my horses' hooves. "I will not be caught dead on the road named a robber!" I seethe. I turn my body to him, and my horse nudges into his like an extension of my body. I look into his eyes. "And I will not be caught dead named a coward." He is stupid, but the determination in his eyes make me want to turn around and fight with him. "You will die here." The form peeks out from the mist, disappears once again. I plead with him silently. Don't stay here. Don't make me stay. "Will I die friendless, Morgan?" He's begging too. Don't leave me alone.  I let my breath out. I didn't know I was holding it all this time, but there it escapes me, obstinately puffs out in a cloud. "No, you will not, Jason." I turn the horse around. I look around us, down the road longingly, back to where our hunter is slowly sneaking closer. "How about The Beggar and His Pregnant Wife?" I get off the horse, load my pistol. I don't look at him, but I know Jason's smiling at me.

The Bounty Hunter smells worse than his ride, which says a lot. He wears a wide brimmed hat, an overcoat too big. I hide behind an oak tree, trying to count the acorns above me so that I keep calm and don't look at him again. His breathing is quiet as death itself. I'm sweating, which actually helps me this time, if he falls for the trick and tries to help me through my 'labor'. I hear Jason start to move. "Cap'n!" He hollers loudly, his voice turned country bumpkin.  "Cap'n! Please, Thank thee, Jesus... Me cart fell off it's wheel, the nags run off, and mine wife's in labor, sir, prithee help us!" I look over a branch as he skitters closer to the man's horse. Grabs his reins. I designed the costume to be ragged and homely in the worst way, I pray silently it's enough to fool him. I peek around the branch again. "I'm having an dreadful bad day, Cap'n..." Jason says, holding out his hand in a begging gesture. The man looks down on Jason. "It's about to get worse." he growls. Blood archs away from Jason where the bounty hunter's boot strikes his face. I almost cry out, cover my mouth with my hand. That baggy overcoat was hiding a blunderbuss. Jason starts crawling back with all the speed of lightning, but... the gunshot echoes through the trees; birds escape in a terrorized gaggle. There is a hole in Jason. He cries out, a animalistic, pathetic, gutteral moan. The man shoots him again, and pieces of his head fly in all directions. He didn't even get a chance to pull the pistol out of his vest before it happened. Jason's body lies facedown in a scrambled puddle of blood and bone. But no coward lies there, I think bitterly. 

"Mistress Morgan..." The Hunger singsongs out, dropping down from his horse and strolling off the road. I scramble away, towards the horses. My guns lay loaded in the fake fertility of my 'womb', a bundle of blankets and firepower belted around my middle. I pull one out and start to sprint towards our steeds. I'm sure he hears me, and behind me the wood seems to seperate under his heels as he makes chase. My disguise has cost me, it's too heavy and too well tied to just pull off. I blindly shoot in his direction, keep running. He is much too close. I'm almost to the horses. I reach the clearing where we left them, grab the saddle to hoist myself up- and he has me by my stupid hair, and wrenches me to the ground. "Ahh! Get off me you bloody b*****d! Get your nasty claws off me!" I scream. He's pulling me back by my hair, oh the pain, it hurts so much I cry as I claw at him. I hear him draw back the flintlock of his own firearm. The click is enough to make me freeze. "Calm ye down, Miss." his voice grinds out, and I have, my mouth still half-formed around a curse. He lifts me by my hair, onto my feet, pulling me back to the road. He even takes our horses with him. I start to tear up thinking about him selling our effects after he buries us, after he collects our blood money... I should have known better... of all people, I should have known better... oh, mama... 

"Lucky for you,  a special someone has offered extra if I get you to 'im alive. It's gonna be a awfully bad night for you, I'm afraid. By then, I'll be full-bellied and warm." We reached the roadside again, and he's tying my hands to a rope attached to his saddle. "Lying with a greasy w***e, I imagine." I counter as he wraps the prickly rope round and round my wrists. His hands are rough and covered with wool fingerless gloves. Somehow, I've convinced myself that to notice the details is to find a way out. He chuckles, tightening the knot. "No doubt I will be. A fiesty round one. You're friend here's had his last, that's for sure." He lifts me callously, my undignified bottom first in the air,onto my horse. I have a perfect vantage point to look down on to the mess that was my partner's head.  Jason's chestnut (what's left of Jason lashed to it), my black beauty and the hunter's mare make a sort of macabre caravan, a long line stringing us together. My fake belly is now sideways, and leaves and twigs stab at my scalp. I feel like my inside's are melting. He claps his hands together, a job well done, and we are soon on our way. 

My hands make quick work inspecting his knots. It takes time to loosen them, but my fingers are nimble and used to the ropes. No time at all and with another tug I know I can release my hands. I feel around my horse. He removed the saddle bags from my reach, I have no weapon to defend myself with. The horse slips on a rock, and my fake belly moves a little more. It's weight is uneven. I feel around. my smallest pistol lies twisted in a rag. I close my eyes, start to cry. I'm losing it, and I can't even thank my lucky stars. He looks behind him, only sees me crying. "Quit that while you're ahead, lass, tears don't get very far with me." He cajoles. But I see him tense. The tiniest detail in his posture tells me that tears go very far, indeed. 

I cry more. I sob, throw my head back and just break down. I even throw in a few hiccups, to make the sudden increase more real. Slowly, I pull my belly forward. Sure enough, the leading horse slows his pace, and the rider gets off. "Mistress Morgan, stop that or you'll drown and I'll make no money at all." He's stepping towards me, but I need him close. I can't miss this shot. I sniff. "I would hate to be disoblidging," I whimper, starting in on another round of sobs.  He comes closer, is he about to pat me on the back? My finger wraps around the trigger, he probably can't even see that my ties are loose in the mess of fabric... He reaches up to me, and the bullet flies out from my fake pregnancy. He's on the ground, and I pull apart my binds, jump off and mount his steed. He lays there, choking. It will take him a few more minutes to die, but my aim was true. Now his blood lay pooled on the road. "Wretch." he coughs out, his eyes full of hate. "A pirate out of water is still a pirate, sir." I look down him a moment. His fury overflows, and he never stops staring at me even as I lead the caravan away. 

I sell his horse and his effects, and I dine well that night.

But the losses were high.