M.J. Markgraf
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Tarnished Chapter 25
🕑 Added 2024-05-22 11:31:16 +0000 UTCIt took a good while to return to the town. By the time they arrived outside the ruined wall of Travis’ compound, his prisoner was looking pale and sweating. Likely from blood loss, exhaustion, or a combination of the two.
“What the hell, John!” Seline stated angrily as she strode over. “He’s just a boy, why did you shoot him?”
John flicked his pistol at the damaged yard. “He looks young but he’s old enough to do this and old enough to shoot at me. Seems mightily stupid if I didn’t return the favor.”
She sighed. “That doesn’t matter! There are laws, John. We are no better than them if we just start making up our own rules. But what’s done is done, let's get the Doc to look at him.”
John didn’t laugh at her naivety. It was good that Seline cared, but in this case, her caring was misplaced. He could see the woman was struggling with what she had done today and falling back on what she understood was her way of coping.
In this instance maybe she was even right. The prisoner would be more forthcoming with answers if he thought he was going to be treated.
“Got a wagon?” He asked instead of arguing with her.
She nodded and shortly she pulled a small mule-drawn wagon to the front of the yard. “You and our friend get in the back, I’ll drive.”
John hauled the nearly delirious prisoner onto the wagon and sat beside him, never letting his gun leave the man. If the man tried something, he would be getting a bullet to the heart.
The trip to the Doc was uneventful. Their prisoner barely had the energy to stay awake let alone try to attack or escape. Probably not a good sign. John had to drag the nearly unconscious man into the building, where other wounded were being attended to.
Dr. Hawthorne looked up as they entered. “Another one?”
“We managed to capture one of the Harc’otti,” John stated.
The room went quiet at his pronouncement and the few injured men glanced over, anger in their eyes.
“Fine. Nurse, finish up here, while I look at our new patient.” The slightly plump but matronly-looking woman with a tight bun of greying hair nodded as she finished wrapping the gut wound of one of the defenders.
The man being worked on was blissfully unconscious, a wet rag draped over his mouth that smelled strongly of some narcotic.
“Get him up here so I can take a look.” John hefted the man onto the counter since the operating table and bed were already occupied.
With deft fingers, the doc undid John’s wound wrap. He tsked at the sight. “You couldn’t stop to clean it first?”
“I didn’t exactly have anything with me to clean it with.”
“Hand me that bowl of water and a clean cloth.”
John nodded to Seline. He wasn’t willing to take his weapon off the prisoner.
She returned with the bowl of clean water. By then, Dr. Hawthorne had ripped away the dirty clothing. He took the rag from Seline and soaked it into the bowl, using it to scrub away the dirt and dried blood around the wound. The pain must have brought the man back to his senses and John was forced to hold him down while the doctor worked.
After the area around the wound was cleaned, the doctor poured a healthy amount of alcohol on it, getting another round of pained struggling from the prisoner.
“Can’t we knock him out?” Seline asked as she helped hold the boy down.
Hawthorne looked up. “I assume you kept him alive for questioning?”
John let Seline answer. “…Yes.”
“Then knocking him out would delay any information you could get.”
“Still, it seems cruel,” she spoke softly.
This time, Hawthorne flicked his gaze up at John. The Doc seemed to understand what would happen to the man. John shook his head minutely, hopefully conveying the fact that Seline wasn’t aware of the inevitable outcome after they got their information.
It seems the man understood as he quietly got back to work.
After ten minutes, the wound was stitched shut and wrapped with a clean bandage. “That’s all I can do for him,” Doc said as he washed the blood from his hands. “He should wake up in a bit, but if not, just stick this under his nose.” Hawthorne passed John a small leather pouch.
He opened it up but didn’t bring it to his nose. There was no need, he could smell the smelling salts from his hand. He quickly closed the bag. “Thanks, Doc. Seline, let's get this man back to the jail so we can question him.”
The pair hauled the unconscious man into the cart. As soon as the cart started to move, the prisoner opened his eyes and tried to jump. John grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him back down.
“Try that again and I won’t be quite so nice.”
The young man tried to spit at John, but he backhanded him.
“Awfully feisty now that you’re patched up. Want me to change that?” John aimed at the warrior's good leg making him flinch back. “Didn’t think so.”
The three of them arrived at the jail without any further trouble from their captive. John pulled the stubborn man from the wagon when he refused to leave on his own. He made one last desperate lunge for the Deputy, but John had firm control of him.
“I warned you.” John kicked the man to the ground and stomped on his elbow, eliciting a loud crack.” The man screamed as his bone broke.
“John! What the hell? We just talked about this! You can’t attack people just because they piss you off.” He looked at the irate Seline. She hadn’t seen the man try to knock her down.
He sighed, not taking his boot off the prone man’s broken arm. It was time to educate the young Deputy. “Seline, this man here is a murderer. No matter how young he appears he would not hesitate to kill either of us if the chance presented itself. I don’t hurt people because I enjoy it or do it for something as petty as getting pissed off as you so eloquently stated. I do it when it’s necessary, and when people like this sack of shit don’t get the telegram.”
She still looked upset with him, but some of her hostility cooled off at his statement. “Fine… Let's just get him in a cell so the Sheriff can question him. Then we can send for a magistrate to try him for his crimes.”
He shook his head after she turned around. She still didn’t get it. There was only one punishment for someone who attacked a lawman and that was death. This man was gonna hang for his crime and they didn’t need a magistrate to pass judgment. Not that a magistrate would bother coming out into the uncivilized West anyway.
As soon as Deputy Seline opened the door, Hawthorne stood from his desk. “What’s all this?”
“Caught him fleeing from the explosion at Travis’. Took a few shots at me, but his horse came up lame and dumped him, allowing me to catch up.”
The Sheriff’s surprised expression morphed into a serious one. “I see. And you think he might be able to tell us something?”
John nodded.
“Seline, I wasn’t able to check on the citizens after the attack. Can you go house to house and check on people? Make sure everyone knows the threat has passed and to ensure nobody else was injured.”
She looked at the injured man before walking over and whispering something in the old Sheriff’s ear. The man nodded. “I’ll make sure.”
The woman walked out without looking at John. He waited for a bit before turning back to Blackwood. “She asked you to keep me from torturing this man for information, didn’t she?”
He gave a slight nod. “She means well, but she doesn’t get how things work out here. It doesn’t help that we haven’t had to deal with any serious issues until recently.”
“You wanna start, or should I?” John asked.
“Let's get him in the back first. That way nobody's going to wander in and see us beating this poor bastard.”
“What?” the young man finally spoke up.
“Oh good, he does speak.” John shoved the man toward the cell area. “I was afraid we would have to start cutting pieces off before he spilled the beans.”
In the end, just the threat of more violence against the young man was enough to get him to talk. Unfortunately, he didn’t know much. He had been told to sneak into the town, specifically into Travis’ compound. There he was to shove explosives into the armored suits that had been retrieved.
The young man didn’t know why, he hadn’t even known about the suits until one of his clan mates gave him this mission. While this was happening, the other Harc’otti were supposed to keep the town's defenders busy so he could make his escape.
Two things went wrong though. First, the warriors were driven off sooner than anticipated. And second, he was knocked out for a bit by the blast when the explosives went off too soon. By the time he fled the compound, people were already coming over to see what happened.
That explained why John had caught up with him so quickly. That shouldn’t have happened. It had taken the three of them ten minutes to cross the town from the site of the attack to Travis’ compound. By then anyone should have been long gone.
The only other piece of information the young warrior had, was where they were supposed to meet up. That was useless for them since the town didn’t have enough defenders as it was so he couldn’t risk taking them. And he couldn’t go himself. John might be good, but he wasn’t good enough to take on fifty or more warriors.
They took the young man outside town on the same cart that had brought him to the clinic and then the jail. After finding a stout tree, John threw the rope over a branch and put the other end around the shaking man’s neck.
He decided to give the bastard a piece of advice, even though he didn’t deserve it. “Don’t tense your neck, it’ll only extend your suffering.”
The man just glared at him. “The spirits will judge me, and I will be reborn. When they judge you, you shall go to the deepest pits of the underworld where you will suffer for eternity.”
“Your spirits will have to get in line,” John said as he hopped off the back of the wagon and nodded at the Sheriff.
Blackwood cracked the reins and the cart lurched forward. The prisoner tried to use his feet to grab at the walls of the wagon, but it didn’t help, and soon he was swinging from the thick branch overhead.
“Stupid idiot,” John muttered. The man had ignored his advice and clenched his neck, and now instead of a clean break and a swift death, he was gonna suffer until he blacked out.
John waited and watched the whole affair until the man’s body went slack. By then the Sheriff had turned the cart around and parked it next to him.
“Cut him down and bury him or leave him up as a warning?” Blackwood asked, not a shred of remorse or guilt in his voice.
And people called him heartless. To be fair, they weren’t wrong. He cared for those that mattered. The rest… they could all rot. “Cut him down, there’s no point sending the Harc’otti a message, they are already working towards someone else's goals.”
