Thank you for the Venom 02-02 (Unedited)

Chapter 2 Part 2

Cliff McFarlane road north with Lucas, having caught up with him in the middle of the night. He had never learned Lucas' last name, nor cared enough to ask. In terms of their gang, Lucas was relatively new and had proved lazy time and time again. The trot Cliff used with his horse was with intent but the speed his companion caused some gap between the two.

"Lucas! What are you doing back there that is keeping you from matching my stride?"

Lucas had a mouth full of tobacco that he was holding while his hands, lacking in dexterity, tried to unwrap paper. "I'm mmfer-muf, gah" his lips parted and spilled the tobacco onto the horse's mane. "Son of a, I dropped my bacco." He muttered more to himself than to his superior.

While Cliff was not the leader of the gang, Vance had made that abundantly clear, Cliff was certainly of the leader type. Cliff trotted his white and black horse back and around to Vance's side. "We're wasting time."

Lucas yawned, which in turn made Cliff want to but he resisted.

"Don't you start that. Vance will be expecting us in the morning. You do remember what we're doing tomorrow. Right?"

"Sleeping."

"No, he's setting up a meeting with WH Eckhart. We're supposed to be his escorts in case any marshals show up."

"Why would any marshals show up?"

"Oh, I don't know, because it's a bank. With our luck, the marshal will be out looking for Dan Frisco."

"I'm tired, Cliff."

"I know, just shut your mouth and keep your eyes open enough to guide your horse. If you fall asleep I'll make sure you regret it."

That woke Lucas up. The threat of violence however layered in his near slumber made his skin crawl. Frankie had been known for torture but Cliff didn't break promises.

"Tell me a story. It'll help keep me awake," mustered Lucas with one eye open and the other half way down.

"Alright, Lucas..."

Lucas smiled for a moment before hearing out Cliff's story.

"There once was a man. He had an ugly wife. Throughout the towns he lived in he would get in fights and shootouts. When people drink they tend to say words they can't erase. So they would question his choice in marrying down. Liken her to a dog, or an ugly male with breasts. His temper could only be abated for so long. He eventually grew so tired of the insults his eyes started to question everyone even before they touched a drink. Killed nearly half the town, he did, before he ran across Vincent Barb. Now, this is Vance Barb's older brother by at least a decade. A decade is ten years before you ask. Vincent Barb wasn't nearly as self-less and determined as our Vance. Vincent was cruel and much more skilled in a shootout. The wife tried to stop him from confronting Vincent, even got his son to ask him to back out. The man refused, determined to get himself killed. He challenged Vincent to a duel in Dallas and when the sun was at it's highest Vincent shot him twice in the stomach before he managed to get a single shot off. He didn't die right away and Vincent approached him as a mercy. He asked him one thing before ending the man's life. 'Why did you marry such an ugly woman.' to which the man replied, 'If you truly love someone, it doesn't matter what they look like.' Vincent laughed, snorted and spat in his face, then shot him in the throat."

Lucas wasn't moving, but his horse continued to trot in pace with Cliff's.

Vance stormed out of his tent into the new morning sun with balled up fists. "Where's Frankie?" his voice deep and threatening.

"We buried him, but I think Lucas didn't dig deep enough. Coyotes are eating him as we speak, if not last night."

"What's happened to Lucas?" Cliff asked looking at the man hunched over and on top of the daisy-chained horse.

"He fell asleep while we were riding," Cliff started to laugh at the nearly bald man who once had long brown strands of shaggy hair. He lifted the man's head to show the piss-poor work he did on the shave. "I suppose the only answer to fix this would be to shave it all off," Cliff smiled with a toothy grin and near chuckle before turning towards his boss.

Vance didn't laugh.

A woman approached and ducked under Vance's armpit. Placing herself in a one-armed hug. She didn't speak but the look on her face suggested she was intoxicated one way or another. Many of the women in their gang were widows or addicts who wouldn't know a better life outside the gang.

He had this stern look on his face, a disapproving scowl. Vance had a butt chin behind the rough scratchy brown short beard. Narrow beady little eyes and a large forehead. He wasn't ugly but he had not been known to make women's legs give way. He was taller than any man in his gang, with a wide tight torso shaped like a V.

"WH Eckhart is waiting on us."

"Right," Cliff pulled out his canteen and dumped the remaining water onto Lucas' misshapen head. The event woke him in a startle.

"Huh...Jesus, Mary, and Joseph it's cold this morning," were Lucas' first words. Leaning back onto his horse he moved a hand to the top of his head. It was feeling particularly cold. "No. No, no. Cliff what did you do?"

Cliff just grinned. "Go get Sunshine to shave the rest off. You'll wear that until it grows back out. Hurry up too, we're about to leave." Cliff watched him grit his teeth, unable to do anything in response. Sure Lucas was taller and held more weight than Cliff, but Cliff was a trained fighter and a demon with his rifle.

Vance had saddled up on a brown and white appaloosa. A rifle rested on his shoulder, some dynamite dangled dangerously off the saddle. He wore tight-fitting cotton white and dark purple plaid. His white ten-gallon hat had been warped some at the crease to the point it looked like horns. Cliff always attributed him to be a necessary evil and in such the horn like quality to his hat was befitting.

"Do you think the rumors about WH are true?"

"Either way, the situation has already resolved itself" Vance replied.

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just keep WH on a leash, it's better some details aren't known."

"What happened?"

"Not now Cliff. What happened to Franklin?"

Cliff shook his head, "Gunned down. I'll tell you about it on the ride over," he didn't want to speak in front of Lucas who was approaching.

"Sunshine says he's not coming with us."

"That was quick," Cliff said changing the subject to Lucas's new shiny bald head.

"As much as I enjoy the belittling of Lucas we got a job to do boys."

San Galvaso was an hour ride east through the Texas desert. The dust was a problem, as storms would brew up a fierceness that startled some of the meeker of horses. Vance rode in the front with two other Mexican bandits that had been traveling with them since June of last year. He was left with precious little company to speak to. The two Mexicans, Colmenero and Barrera, traded encoded insults about Lucas' new haircut. There was a natural and dusty trench in the earth that dipped low enough to hide their horses. Lucas put out some food as Vance and Cliff approached. Their conversation picking up towards the end.

"I heard her neck snap, and then I left."

"Good boy," Vance said intending the insult. He hitched his horse before Cliff could. Part of Vance's power over Cliff came in the way he spoke. There was a dialogue that Cliff could not wiggle in his favor when he dealt with Vance. "Lucas, you're not known in this town. Don't mess up now," he said putting the worry in Lucas' head. His manipulation would only increase the odds of having Lucas fail but in Vance's eyes, the gang would be better off without failures.

Lucas nodded, looked to Vance and then to Cliff who was still horse bound. Cliff shot him a look as if to say, 'You don't need my permission to go.' He scrambled up the trench, stumbling only for a moment and then kicked his way up to approach the town. Looking back for a moment, he shifted the rifle's strap that was over his shoulder and then headed towards town.

His breathing started to pick up, not from the walk but his heart was racing. He had this sinking feeling that he would be caught, stoned and hanged. The entrance to the town had the stable on his immediate left where he saw the sign reading 'closed'. He couldn't read it but he recognized the letters enough to know what it meant.

The middle of town had Ben Franklin's Apothecary and across the street was the Bordel. A woman was standing on the balcony and uncovered her shoulder. Lucas thought it was a tad early to be baiting. He held up a hand at first to shield his eyes from the sun but the woman thought it was a wave. She smiled a fake smile and placed her hand on her collarbone and let the maroon-painted fingernails trail from one side to the other.

He stumbled into Father Jacob who looked him up and down for a moment. The Bible in his hand that he had raised up while professing the good work of the lord slipped. With a disappointed and judgemental look, Father Jacob leaned over, picked up the Bible and cleared his throat.

"Woes be the sinner who leers on the young and vile nature of lust and premarital companionship."

Lucas continued to walk, ignoring the shouts from the Father who continued to preach out in the streets. He made note of him becoming a problem when the time came. The sheriff's office and jail were empty. There was Marshal Abihail Goldstein. Lucas had wondered for quite some time how a person of his nature had come to power in the US Marshall service. He was outside Hershal Smith's hotel and room, there was a woman he was speaking to. Marie Johnson was taking some keys from the Marshall before their conversation ended and he mounted and rode off to the northern exit.

Lucas felt his weight shift as someone had bumped into him. He looked down to see the startled young Newton Smith, son of the innkeeper Hershal Smith. There were the same blue eyes but the good looks of his mother hand transferred over.

"I'm sorry mister. I wasn't paying attention."

Lucas didn't speak, he wouldn't know what to say anyhow. Lucas' Louisiana accent was telling and would lead to rumors around the town. They didn't want any excess attention, not before...

Newton stared at the man for a moment and then after realizing he wasn't going to get a response he started to speak again. "Are you deaf mister?" he asked and then immediately regretted it. His conscious screaming for him to run away was ignored as he cocked his head and looked up at the man.

Lucas' head turned down towards the young boy, smiled and shook his head. Newton's reaction to Lucas' stained teeth grin sent a horrid shiver down his spine. He made a face of disgust and then ran away. Lucas never was good with children.

He turned his attention back towards his goal. There it was, the bank. It was run by Jordan Lacrimal but in his illness, he had left Sheriff Jones in charge of finding someone to do the transactions. Since he was preoccupied the deputy was standing outside of the locked doors. Deputy Feraday was a handsome man. He was young enough to still stir the echoes of the local widows and old enough to maintain a job.

Lucas moved to the opposite side of the bank. The building was newly erected and still under construction. Just as to how the building was paid for was still a mystery. Maya greeted Lucas at the door.

"You'll find the door in the back behind the curtain," she said in a sensual but odd mixture of Spanish and native American accent. She had pale skin for an Indian and many of the townsfolk found it suspicious that one would open up a shop in the town. The simpletons had still pigeonholed many of the natives as barbaric and unintelligent.

Lucas was taken back by how the woman was allowing him safe passage to the roof. He had planned on gagging and tieing her up. Lucas let out a stupid, "I-I..."

"I know what you're here for. If anyone asks we can make it up again." Maya had positioned herself behind the man and was hurrying him into the building. It still had wood laying around with tools neatly placed at the edge of the entryway.

"Again?" he questioned confusedly while looking over his shoulder and back to the woman.

"Don't ask a lot and you won't lose a lot," Maya said with a fierce look in her brown egg colored eyes. She had high cheekbones and a slender face. The dark purple and black dress she wore was tight around her waist and breast but flowing at her hips and went down to her knees. Her shoes were black and flat for her small feet. She planted them and pushed him up the stairs.

"Have I met you before? How did you know what I was here for?" he said now at the top of the stairs.

"Poor soul. Do you want to hold my hand," she reached out with a mocking gesture. Her arms were long, lean, and dark chocolate in color. The knowing smile on her face looked frightening before the door slam shut to the downstairs.

He shook his head for a second to compose himself. She was strange but she couldn't distract him from his job. He had to get into position before time ran out. A pocket watch was pulled from his dark navy vest. The time read ten forty but to him, it meant that his signal was coming soon.