Unbury Carol(81)

It was the trials of traveling with fellow outlaws.

“There’s fur on this rabbit yet, Lewis!” Garr said, taking a bite.

“Skin’s the best part,” Kent answered.

In the corner of the shack, on the dirty wood floor, sat a box of gunpowder the four had stolen two weeks prior. The plan was to sprinkle the stuff in a line around Deputy Pearson’s home up near Abberstown and watch the pig-shitter explode. Pearson’s men had been tailing the triggermen, and they were getting closer.

But the powder made Garr nervous.

Dead-skulls like you three around and I gotta worry you’re gonna drop your smoke right into the box!

“We’re gonna need ourselves more beer soon,” Kent said, rubbing his belly. “How is it we run out so quick?”

This would pose a real problem and could possibly break the stalemate regarding going into town. Garr’s plan was to clean himself up nice with a shave, or to clean Lewis up since he, despite his age, was the baby-face, and send him in as a traveler, someone there to spend his coin. Garr had known tough lawmen in his time and raged at Horace’s hyperbolizing the ones in Albert’s Port.

“Looks like we’ll have to go into town for more,” Garr said, looking directly at Horace as he tore meat from the rabbit bones.

Horace knew he had to say something.

“We can go without for a night or so, Garr. We’ll steal some on the other side of town.”

Garr scowled. “You might do whatever you like, good man. I might do the same.”

The wet sound of the men sucking meat from the bone padded the silence between them.

“We done already had this talk, Garr.”

“Yes. Many times.”

“Many times.”

Lewis rose, went to a bucket, and brought back some more rabbit.

“No end to the meat, though,” Garr said. “Got plenty of first-rate meat!”

“Pipe it, Garr,” Kent said suddenly, grabbing hold of the charred rabbit and tearing a good piece from its neck.

Garr stood up quick and took Kent by the collar. “You don’t tell me to pipe anything, understand?”

Horace and Lewis froze. Garr was something like his own big fear…the gunpowder…all ready to explode…just needed a small spark.

“All right, Garr.”

“Don’t tell me all right!”

“Okay.”

Garr let go and sat back down, crashing upon the chair.

“The last time I listened to you three we let a man go we ought to have killed. Had him for dead, had his whole body there before us, and walked away with only his legs.”

Horace stared coldly at Garr. Lewis rose and pretended to be minding the meat bucket.

“That’s right,” Garr said, his mouth full of rabbit. “I’ll be listening to myself from now on. And I’m fixing to go into town to get me some things.”

The tension was high.

“Do you all smell that?” Lewis suddenly asked, standing by the bucket near the wall. He stuck his nose out.

“And I’ll tell you what I’ll get when I’m there!” Garr went on, ignoring the cook. “I’m gonna get a damn pillow. A bottle of booze. Some fine pig I can suck on for as long as I want. I’m gonna get a quilt, too. That’s right, I am.”

“Fellas,” Lewis said, stepping from beside the bucket and placing his fingertips against the wall. “Boys…”

“A whole rack of lamb is what I’m gonna get! And a good horse, too! I’ll find myself the best feed they got and fatten up that horse and ride the beast right out from under their noses, I will!”

“You boys smell that?” Lewis asked again.

Now Garr turned to Horace.

“And whence I do, noble Horace, I’ll be sure to send ye a gift box. A box full of rabbit, stale beer, and pig-shit!”

Garr cocked his head back and howled delight.

Lewis was at the table now. “You boys smell that?”

Garr stopped laughing.

“Smell what, Lewis?” Horace asked.

“Come here.”

The other three got up, and Lewis held out both palms for them to stop moving. “No, wait…you can smell it right…here.”

The men were quiet, their noses in the air.

“All I smell is burnt rabbit,” Garr said. “And dirty floors.”

“No,” Horace said, holding up a hand. “Smells like…smells like oil.”

Garr scowled. “Now, how in hell’s heaven could it smell like oil? I know I weren’t lucky when I met you louses and I know we arnt sitting on any oil.”

“It is oil,” Horace said.

A sudden boom! from outside and the wood walls began crackling.

Garr grabbed his guns. Horace ran to the door and kicked it open. Flames rushed in fast, taking Horace by the shirt and hair. He fell to his knees, screaming, unable to put it out.

“It’s the law!” Lewis screamed.

“The powder!” Garr yelled. “The POWDER!”

Horace was rolling on the wood floor, burning. Kent stepped to the door, an arm protecting his face, and looked into the flames.

It was a path of fire, a tunnel of flames, chest-high, blocking the only way out. The roof was seconds from catching.