The heavy rain poured down upon the canopy of the forest, tapping upon the leaves as the water dripped towards the ground. The thunder roared as it briefly illuminated the midnight sky in streams of electrical bolts, dancing their ways across the dark clouds before dissipating into minor sparks. Occasionally, one of those bolts might strike the earth with a enormous crack, turning any tree that stood to splinters.
The wrath of nature was in full swing; Relentless, the storm produced such a mighty wind that it violently blew against the trees, swaying them in every direction. Along with the rain, leaves, twigs, and bark were swept up by the powerful gusts and blown far across the forest. The flora eventually covered the soaked Earth, decorating the landscape in a chaotic mess of vegetation.
It was a terrible night to be outside, but a husband and wife duo didn’t have a choice. They had to fight through the storm, especially the husband since he was the one who sat in the driver’s seat of a stagecoach. While the wife laid inside the cabin, tightly holding onto a small chest with gold inside, the husband drove a team of four, galloping quarter horses through the conditions of the storm. The wood of the wagon creaked and squeaked as it rambled through the downfall, splashing puddles of mud and water off the wet ground.
The rain and hail pebbled the soggy man, hitting him at such a velocity similar to small rocks being thrown at him. He felt the bruises through his wool poncho, stinging him every time they were hit again by the downfall. The husband was in complete agony from the top of his cowboy hat to the bottom his leather boots. However, the man couldn’t care less about the pain. He huffed and grunted, trying to keep his team of horses together.
Meanwhile, the woman inside the carriage sat in quiet distress, hoping her husband would be able to get away from a closing threat. From the bottom of her toes to the top of her head, the wife’s body shook in terror upon the thoughts of them getting caught by the bandits in pursuit. She had no idea what they would do to her and her husband, but she was certain upon one single thing. They wanted their gold, and the husband and wife were doing everything they could to prevent it from happening. It was the couple's money, and they didn’t want the bandits to touch a single bit. The thought absolutely disgusted the husband, making him push even harder through the turbulent weather.
It blew leaves, twigs, water, and sleet into his face, but never fazed him. His mind was too narrow, dead focused on the direction the trail took him. Driving the galloping team through the thick forest, the husband could hardly see the path from the driver’s set. The lanterns swinging and hanging from the sides of the cabin barely provided any sort of usable light. At best, the husband could only see about two to five feet out in front of his horses.
It became inevitable for the husband. He knew he couldn’t drive those horses any further without risking their overall safety. The equines were one stumble, one trip, or one fall away from crashing into the mud and rock. However, the husband also knew if he ever slowed down, then it was all over him and his wife. He shook his head, concluding that it wasn’t going to happen as long as he just drove the horses just a little bit further.
He knew the forests of Middle Equestria since he passed through them almost every single day. The man knew how straight most of the roads were, allowing him to get a carriage up to full speed without sudden stops. However, he also knew a couple shortcuts that would certainly help him with evading the oncoming threat.
One of those trials was a few miles ahead, and it lead straight into a large, suspended rope bridge. It was wide and strong enough to hold the entire carriage, including the team of horses. Once he was able to cross it, the husband figured he would cut the ropes and simply destroy the bridge. It was his only hope.
“KEE-YAH!” he shouted, cracking the whip. His hefty team of horses sped up with a huff. The wife almost fell back in her seat upon the sudden jerk of the wagon.
The husband and wife continued to tumble through the forest at full speed, whizzing past the trees, kicking up the mud, and splashing water high into the air. The man and the horses breathed heavily as their visions tunneled straight ahead. If they didn’t slow down, the man assumed they might have lost the bandits for good.
Bang!
A gunshot was heard, along with the shattering of glass.
A single bullet had hit the left side lantern, shattering the glass and blowing out the candle. The driver was now down to a single light source, but that’s the least of his worries. The husband turned his head for one second, narrowing his brows. Looking behind the carriage, he was horrified by the sight he saw through the rain. The husband turned his attention back the road and cracked his whip again, commanding the horses to run faster.
The husband had no idea how, but the bandits had caught up to him. With their guns drawn, they tried to take a couple more shots at the coach from the backs of their horses. While only thing they managed to hit was the lantern, the bandits clearly didn’t give up. They continued to pursue the wagon on horseback despite the heavy downfall. Proving their single horses can be faster than a team, the bandits closed the distance between themselves and the wagon.
The husband once again looked behind him, faintly seeing the bandits on four of their own horses. They were almost within twenty feet of the carriage! With desperation setting in, the man took the reins and placed them in his left hand. Wiping the water off his right hand, he pulled out his single-action colt and aimed for the bandit closest to him. Gripping the handle, he curled his index finger around the trigger and fired a single round.
Missed.
The men chasing him saw the gun and zigzagged their horses, successfully avoiding the shot by messing up the man’s aim. The husband then hastily fired a second round, but it only pierced through the rain, hitting nothing. The bandits were now within ten feet of the stagecoach, quickly closing the gap between themselves and the wagon.
At this point, the husband knew he only had four bullets left in the drum of the gun, and he needed to make all of them count. They were way too close, an easy shot if he could just steady his arm long enough to properly aim and shoot their horse or the rider in the head. It didn’t matter who went down at this point, immobilization of the person or the equine were the only opinions he had left. Time and distance weren’t on his side anymore. Something had to die.
The husband took aim, steadying his arm upon a bandit trailing up the right side of the carriage. Taking in a deep breath, he ignored the blistering pain throughout his body. It wasn't his major concern at that moment since he needed to make this shot. He then tightly held the grip, leveling the gun and crossing the hairs upon the head of the rider. The husband exhaled, and time seemed to briefly slow down. His mind focused only on where his hairs were set.
He missed.
Seconds before he pulled the trigger, the wagon hit a stump in the trail. The impact created enough force to cause the husband to jerk the gun up right as he fired it, sending the bullet straight into the air. Cursing and screaming, the man aimed the gun once more. However, it was too late.
The bandit was within a few feet of the carriage. With his shotgun drawn, he pointed it straight at the husband's pistol. Pulling the trigger, the rider managed to hit the driver's hand. Blood spraying, fingers and pieces of the husband’s palm flew off into the trail along with the gun. He screamed in agony. Pulling his right arm back, the man wrapped it around his chest as he leaned into it, trying to create enough pressure to stop the blood flow. However, it surged out from the open wound, covering the driver's seat and staining his rain soaked poncho.
Using his left hand, the husband drove the team just a little bit further before the bandits got beside the stagecoach. With one rider on each side aiming their shotguns, they fired upon the latches between the carriage and the horses. Snapping and successfully breaking free the team pulling the wagon, the only thing that now kept them together were the husband’s efforts to hold onto the reins.
He held them with his good hand for as long as he possibly could. However, the husband soon realized that he didn’t have enough strength within his arm to hold back a team of powerful, running horses. Feeling the increasing tug upon his left arm, the man lost his grip on the reins and dismissed the horses further away from him. They continued to run out of his sight and into the dark gloom of the forest.
All that was left was the wagon itself, tumbling through the trail without any control. The husband leaned back in his seat as he braced himself for what was to come. The wife inside the carriage screamed her heart out upon the site of a bandit using their foot to shove the carriage towards the side. The wagon slightly drifted to the left, hitting another tree stump before it was successfully tipped over.
Slamming into the ground, the stagecoach slid across the gravel and mud while the driver was ejected from his seat. He flew a few feet in front of the carriage before he smacked his back against the road, landing a mere few inches away from where the wagon now rested. Lying underneath the pouring rain, he could only groan and moan from the pain since the air was completely knocked out of him. The husband felt sudden sharp needles of pain stabbing into his chest. He swore up and down that he might have broken a few ribs from the fall.
His vision had also blurred. The husband was just barely able to see the carriage from where he rested. Moving his head around, he desperately tried to focus on what was happening around it. However, the only visions he was able to comprehend were the watery, brown blobs of color that surrounded the stagecoach. He could only assume they were the bandits.
With their weapons drawn, two additional riders dismounted from the back of their horses, leaving behind their fellow bandits that remained on top. There were six of them in total, and two of them jumped on top of the stagecoach and ripped open the wooden door. A scream hurled from within.
My… my honey, the husband thought, shaking from the cold rain. Please… just… just leave her out of this. He wanted to get up, get back on his feet, and defend her from the vile assholes who were going after her. Instead, the man remained helpless, barely able to move from the sheer pain of his injuries. At the most, the man was able to sluggishly slide himself towards the group with his good arm. This was only done out of reflex, feeling as if he had to continue to fight.
One of the bandits noticed him shifting towards the group. “Hey!” he spoke in his thick southern accent, “Looks like that old coot don’t know when to give up! How about I give him some encouragement fellas? What do you say?”
“Do it!”
“Sure thing Boss!”
“Go for it!”
“Give ’em the rope!”
He nodded with a chuckle. “Sounds good to me!”
‘The Boss’ unwrapped a small leather hook from around the horn of his saddle, letting his lasso free to be gripped within his hand. Turning his horse around, the man swung the rope into the air and spun it around his head. Building up the velocity within his swing, the bandit looked down upon the man with a smirk. The husband was still crawling towards the wreckage with all the effort left within his body.
Right as he used his arm to lift his upper body off the ground, the Boss threw the rope and wrapped the husband’s wrist around it. Pulling the lasso tight, the bandit secured the man’s arm within its grasp. The Boss laughed, seeing the husband struggle to pull against the rope and break it. It didn’t budge, holding itself up despite the resistance from the husband’s might.
“Good luck trying to break a nylon rope you stupid idiot!” one bandit shouted.
“Yeah!”
“Dumbass!”
“What are ya? A bucket full of shit!?” the rest of them added.
“Silence!” the Boss commanded. “Can’t you guys see he is still struggling?”
One of them replied, “Yeah Boss? What about that?”
The Boss grinned, “Yah!”
With a crack from his whip, the man in charge took off on his horse and dragged the husband behind him. He hit every single rock, bump, and bark laid out the road, further bruising and cutting his already slashed up body. The husband continued to grunt and moan, becoming a soaked up human meatbag with two arms that felt completely torn off. He had lost any feeling to them as his left arm pulled him further along the muddy road.
The Boss got his horse up to a full gallop, still dragging the husband along the ground and through the vegetation. Every so often, the man would experience a bump that would briefly lift him off the ground before he came back to it with a sloppy thud. The husband grunted as his torment continued for several more yards.
Eventually, the bandit got tired of running his horse at full speed. Still towing the man behind him, the Boss slowed his horse down and walked it back towards the stagecoach. Upon arriving at the scene, two bandits that had originally jumped into the carriage were now outside and holding the wife within their grasp. The chest of gold now laid beside them as they struggled to keep a grip on the woman. She tried to jerk and thrust her arms around, trying to break free of their hold and run away if she could. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the strength within herself to do so.
The wife just stood there, shaking, kicking, and throwing her arms and shoulders in every direction possible while the two handymen maintained their physical restraints on her. It wasn’t until a gun was pointed straight at her head when she decided to calm down. The bandit pointing the gun smiled, knowing that when the reality kicks in, it will sometimes get people to see reason. They value their life more than their freedom.
“Always works,” he remarked with a sneer.
She lowered her brows, “Eat shit.”
The bandit chuckled, “Really? I wouldn’t expect such language from a lady such as yourself!” He slapped her across the cheek, “Didn’t your momma ever tell you not to curse?”
She hung her head low, crying from the sudden harsh treatment. “You wouldn’t know that.”
“Come again?” he asked.
“I said you wouldn’t know that!” the wife shouted, lifting her head up and looking straight at the bandit. While tears did fall from her eyes, they were masked by the rainwater that covered her beet red face. She was also visibly shaking, rocked by the trauma of the crash along with her apprehension.
“Aw… Really now? I mean isn’t it a known rule that cursing isn’t acceptable within our own people?” He took his gun and twirled it, his voice dripping with condescension. “I mean, we don’t just wish to go around and spread such a negative influence onto others, now would we?”
The wife remained silent, holding a look of discontent upon her face.
He took a hand placed it across his chest. “I mean, what kind of a role model would I be if I did such a thing? Hmm?”
The wife mumbled some words, but the bandit couldn’t hear it. Placing a hand to his ear, he walked up to the woman and placed it near her mouth. “What’s that honey? I am very sorry. The storm is so loud that I need you to speak up.”
“I SAID YOU WOULD BE A TERRIBLE ONE!” she screamed, making sure every single word was projected into his ear. This caused him to stubble back at bit. The bandit then used a hand to rub against his ringing ear.
He went to try and swing at her again. “Why, you little-”
“Now I say quit it!” the Boss yelled. “I will not sit here and see any of you beat an innocent woman like that.”
“But, boss! I-”
“Shut it,” he snapped, pointing his shotgun at him. “Our business is only with the man and the money. There is no need for her to be tied up into this. Just let her go.”
“But, sir!”
“NOW!” he demanded.
A few glances were exchanged between the handymen, doubting their leader’s command to leave her alone. They thought she might be an additional ‘bonus’ to their chase, given how her looks were fairly above average. However, since their Boss wanted her to be freed, they knew that they had to comply, despite their opposition.
The bandits huffed and groaned since they knew their Boss a little too well, and his tendency to dish out punishment for disobedience. Treachery or failure to follow through with his orders were usually met with some unfortunate person staring down the barrel of the leader’s gun. Unlike a pistol’s bullet, the shell fired from a shotgun wasn’t easy to recover from. The Boss knew that, and loved it.
The bandits released their holds on the woman, letting the wife wiggle her arms from the pressure of their grips. She was freed, just like the Boss said. For a moment, she was reluctant, content with not being held as a prize anymore for their efforts. The wife then glanced over at her husband, who was still laying on the ground and sluggishly breathing. His torn clothing hardly managed to cover all the scars, bruises, and gashes he had received, which slowly turned her reluctancy straight into anger.
She couldn’t stand to see her husband in such a rotten condition, making her sick to the stomach over the cruelty he endured. Anybody, especially her husband, doesn’t deserve this kind of treatment from someone, yet that was what had happened. The wife was enraged, suddenly determined to seek out revenge against the aggressors.
There was a short window of opportunity presented to her. Right as she was released, both handymen holstered their weapons and turned a shoulder away from her. Temporarily, both of them took their eye off of her as they stepped over towards the wrecked carriage, where the chest laid. With their backs turned away from her, the wife knew she had only one chance to sneak in and grab one of their guns and blindside them. If she did so, the lady assumed she be able to quickly take one of them out before escaping. One of the handyman's horses was right behind her, thus she thought her plan could be as quick as obtaining the gun, firing it, and then mounting the equine before taking off on top of it.
That would have been the case if the Boss’s Right Hand wasn’t carefully watching her.
Right as the wife reach towards the holster of one of the bandits that held her, the right hand yelled, “Don’t you-”
The wife managed to pull the gun out and hold it up, her fingers curling around the grip. She aimed straight at the man she stole the weapon from and fired it, managing to hit the front of his neck. Using his hands to cover up the wound, he fell back upon the side of carriage while his friend immediately fell to his aid. The woman hobbled a few steps back, making her way towards the riled up equine.
Bang!
The woman froze, dropping the gun down by her feet. She could feel it through her Victorian Dress, the warm blood that ran down her back along with her insides torn apart. The lady felt like someone just simultaneously stabbed her a thousand times over with sharp knives that had slashed deep into her body. It only left her with one single conclusion...
Her plan had miserably failed.
As the smoke cleared from the barrel of the Boss’s shotgun, the lady collapsed towards the ground. Gasping, she laid there and bled until the cold grip of death took her. With eyes closed, the woman accepted her fate knowing she did what she could to gain a little bit of payback for the bandit’s mistreatment of her husband. The woman was content with her only shot she managed to get off.
Meanwhile, the Boss just shook his head, “Damn.”
He didn’t want any innocent blood spilled tonight, but the man knew he didn’t have a choice. One of his men was injured by his mercy, now left to bleed out of his neck. The Boss knew it would be only a matter of time before the man’s soul departed his own body, leaving behind the rest to rot beside the carriage just like the woman’s. The leader could only briefly stare at that scene for a moment, his own grief stirring within him.
Turning towards the side, he then gazed down at the husband and saw his shock across the face. The man lying on the ground couldn’t believe his own eyes. His wife was dead, lifeless on the ground as the rain and mud covered her body. Tears were running down his face, no longer from the painful agony, but from something metaphorically broken within him. His heart ached, forcing out every single tear to coat his already rain soaked face. Curling his lips, the husband continued to sob as he clenched his good hand into a fist.
He banged it on the ground, flinging up the clay and muck in protest. The emotional mixture of sadness and anger had washed over his body and desperately made him want to get back up and do what he could to be with his wife again. However, it was short lived once the Boss saw his efforts to crawl once more.
He had gotten off his horse and walked over to where the husband was. The Boss then stomped on the man’s hand, causing him to grunt and retract his arm back. He then looked to the man above him, who glared down at him with anguish worn on his face. He knew what he had to do next, and wished it didn’t have to come down to it.
The Boss crossed his arms, “This is a damn disgrace. All this innocent blood shed because of your selflessness!” He bend down and came face-to-face with the husband, “If you would have just given me the chest in the first place, none of this would have happened!”
The leader got back up and kicked the husband on the side multiple times, “This. Is. What. You get for. Disobeying me. And our deals. In the first place!” The Boss placed one more solid kick to the husband’s rib cage.
The victim just laid there, silent. The Boss scoffed, “Now you don’t want to talk anymore? What… You think you can just weasel your way out of this situation?” The leader turned his ear towards the man, “Huh? Got something to actually say about this?”
The husband barely lifted his head up and coughed out, “Fuck. You.”
The Boss laughed, “Well fine then. Seeing that you are as worthless as a rodent in this world, along with the fact that you saw your own wife die, then I guess I am left with no other choice then.”
The leader turned around and grabbed his lasso, completely removing it from the horn of the saddle. Unraveling and lengthening the loop of the rope, the Boss placed the head of the husband through it before he sealed it tight. While the man tried to resist the strain of the rope around his neck, he couldn’t break free from its grip since the leader kept its tension tight. The lasso wasn’t going anywhere.
The Boss then looked above him and saw a particularly sturdy, thick branch. To him, it couldn’t have been anything less than seven-to-eight inches in diameter. It was almost too perfect for what was about to come next.
He took the knotted end of the lasso and threw it over the branch, letting it come down and swing right in front of him. Smiling, the Boss knew he had created his own makeshift gallow. He then grabbed the rope and commanded the rest of his team to join him. With four of the bandits taking their own grips on the rope, they began to hoist the husband up into the air by his neck.
Once the man’s feet were clearly off the ground, The Boss secured the rope to the tree and marveled at the husband’s dire attempts to breathe. He gasped for air, trying to pry the loop of the lasso off his neck. It was too tight, even with the water on the rope. It choked him to the point where his face went beyond the color of red. It turned a dark shade of blue, indicating his strains for air.
His vision began to fade as the functions within his brain were shutting down. At that moment, the husband had to give up. There was no point with fighting against the rope anymore since it clearly was winning against the struggle. As soon as he stopped fidgeting around, the man hung there and embraced the numbness that slowly consumed what feelings he had left within the nerves of his head. Before he knew it, the husband finally passed out as the rain continued to fall upon him.
His body lightly swung with the wind, letting the water stream all the way down his body until it dripped off of his shoes and onto the ground. The Boss scratched his chin as he inspected his own work. Using the barrel of the gun, he poked at the body numerous times and tried to get a response out of the husband. However, the man just hung there as a lifeless human piñata.
“He’s dead, boys.” the Boss declared to an assortment of subdued cheers.
“Hey, what’s that?” One of the bandits pointed towards a flickering light coming up the road.
The Leader turned towards the light and huffed, “I don’t know what it is, but if it's another person then I don’t think we need to stay around here much longer.”
The handyman that was tending to the injuries of the shot bandit asked, “But what about Guss here?”
“Leave him.” The Boss ordered. “Sadly, he’s a dead man too. Just grab the chest and lets get out of here! NOW!”
The bandit holding Guss’ hand could only nod his head, the shot to the neck was fatal. No doctor could mend his injury since the shot pierced straight through his Adam’s apple. He only had about a couple minutes to live and the bandit made sure he didn’t die without knowing somebody was caring for him. Now, Guss’ body laid beside the carriage while his eyes were closed, sorta in serenity with what was about to come. He had braced for his death, and left the world behind in selfmade peace.
The other bandit let go of Guss’ cold hand and ran over to grab the chest filled with gold. He then jogged back to his horse and mounted it, still holding back a few tears as he kicked the sides of his steed and trotted off into the distance along with the rest of the gang. He was going to miss Old Guss, but his time had apparently come. The handyman couldn’t deny that no matter how hard he tried to forget about what he just saw, it had jarred him. He huffed, trying to focus on the road ahead of him.
A single man on horseback pulled up to the crash scene before him with the reins in one hand and a lantern on the other. He wore an all black trench coat with leather boots that splashed upon the mud when he dismounted his horse. The rain had subsided and the old man held up the lantern to fully see the three dead bodies on the side of the road.
Two of them laid the near what remained of a torn apart stagecoach. Wood and debris was scattered along the side of the road and up into the vegetation. As for the two bodies, they rested with clothing stained with blood that ran down into their own pooled mixture of rainwater. They appeared to be in a peaceful sleep, but their wounds convinced him otherwise.
The man then held the lantern up to the husband, who still dangled from the limb of the tree by the tied up rope. Head was limped off to the side, as if all of his life was emptied from his body. A single crow had also perched itself on the husband’s shoulder, letting out a single caw before it pecked at the rope. The thunder still rolled in the distance as the old man was left in bewilderment.
He stood there and pondered, What in Tartarus just happened here?
Author's Note
Dear Readers,
Welcome to The Renegade Runaway, and I hope you enjoyed the prelude. A lot more is to come, but I just want to say if you see any sort of grammar mistake, please PM the corrections to me and I will be swift to fix them. Thank you!
