Chapter 17

The only thing a man like Abel fears is his wife, who would kick his butt if he laid down and died.

Abel watched Evangeline go into the house before sitting down against the tree. The blood from the gunshot to the collarbone was starting to lose its feeling, which meant he was dying. He was starting to get cold from the loss of blood, but right now, all he could think about was what was going to happen to Evangeline. It wasn’t going to be good. She might be tossed into a w***e house, used all up, and then killed. If she were lucky, she would be killed before then.

                It didn’t matter what was going to happen; he wasn’t planning on letting any of it happen. He was going to kill every man in that house, get Evangeline out, and go to the Skyport so he could go home.

                He wanted to go home.

                “What you doin’ down there?” Hope would have asked if she was here. “Givin’ up, bein’ a little boy, huh? Get up and get fightin’, like the man I know you’re to be.”

                “Damn it,” he mumbles, pushing himself off the ground. Hope was right, even if it was his mind playing games on him as he died. It wasn’t the first time he died. It guessed it wasn’t going to last either; even if something he prayed for, he would stay in the grave.

                It turned out the Reaper thought he was too ugly to get him. His mother would have told Abel he was too damn mean for Heaven and too damn hotheaded for Hell. She might have been right, even if she was a mean old lady all his life. She thought life was hard and wanted to make Abel harder to face it.

                “Got kick the a*s of whatever storm life throws at ya, Abel,” she would tell him pushing him out into the woods alone, “tell the Reaper to your worse, for I’ll do mine.”

                His mother grew up poor and, in the old country, loved to read. She was too very well-read for being poor and put any rich man to shame when it came to reading. She once told Abel she had read everything in the library down the road three times.

                He didn’t question his mother, but she made sure he was well-read as well, even if he was hardheaded as a bull.

                Abel grunted, walking between the cars, taking off his hat and then his coat. He placed them both on the hood of the car as the men at the door turned to him. One of them raised his rifle while the other stuck his head into the door, calling for everyone inside. Abel rolled his good shoulder before walking in front of the men, eyeing the riflemen as everyone poured out.

                 “Holy hell,” Willy Arkansas said, pushing his way to the front, “you're one hell of a bull, sir.”

                Abel rolled his jaw, almost snarling at the sight of Evangeline, all beat up with blood pouring down her face. One of the men was carrying her, holding her arms up, as she looked at Abel with one good eye. He turned his gaze back to Willy.

                “Who paid you for this?” Willy asked.

                Abel said nothing.

                “Come on, sir,” Willy said, “I’ll pay you more to walk away.”

                Abel narrowed his eyes at Willy.

                “You’ve kept on moving,” Willy said. “Or, Hell, why don’t you come to work for me, huh? You can have my dumb daughter if you want. I was planning on killing her anyway.”

                Abel took a step forward, staring right at Willy as all the guns went up.

                “I came here to get her to the sky port,” he said, “but no father should touch their daughter like that, so now, I’m here to gut you like the pig you are.”

                Willy laughed, shaking his head. “You what army, sir?”

                “Willy,” Abel said, making him stop smiling, “I am the righteous hand of God, and He’s calling for your name, Willy.”

                Willy almost frowned, pulling out a pistol. He pointed the pistol right at Abel, who didn’t look away. There was no point in blinding when one stared at the face of death. Abel had seen it all in his long life; men cried when they were dying, men steeling themselves when they were at the scythe of the Reaper, but all they knew was what was coming, and there was no backing down from it.

                But then there were those fools, the men, who thought they were kings, who walked the world; he didn’t have any idea what they were doing to die. Those men were the ones who Abel couldn’t stand; they acted foolishly, they caused too many others to die, and Willy was one of those men.

                He thought he was put here in this world to rule over it. He believed everyone showed up to move out of his way when he walked into a room. He owned every place he opened the door to until he met a man like Abel.

                Abel was the force of nature stopping men like Willy. He was just standing tall against their wicked ways, even if he was outnumbered and bleeding out.

                “There ain’t no God here tonight,” Willy said, about to blow Abel away, but Abel’s good hand pulled his massive knife free, throwing it right at Willy. The blade didn’t have time to spin in the air, with the bright steel sighting in the dark like the swing of the scythe of Death. The steel, perfectly shaped, nailed Willy right in the belly with enough force to throw him backward into Bull. As he cried out, the pistol went off. The bullet went wide, missing Abel and shattering a window behind him.

                And yet, it didn’t matter; Willy missed; Abel was standing in front of a firing squad who let their guns do all the talking, blasting Abel to kingdom come, and the mighty man dropped to his knee, eating all the bullets. The rain bullets seemed never to stop until someone shouted for them to hold their fire. Abel coughed with blood pouring out all over him, and he glanced at Evangeline, screaming and crying for him.