Summary:  An afternoon turns tragic.  FEB. 2013. Chaps&Spurs challenge.

Rated: K+ (670 words)

The Last Bullet

“Four, five…” Joe paused, his thumb on the hammer of his gun. Instead of firing he ducked behind the boulder they were hiding behind. The high ground would do them no good if he didn’t have bullets to defend it with. His right hand followed the loops of his gun belt. Empty. Ever last one.

“Joe?” Maggie’s voice interrupted his moment of defeat. “You’re out of bullets?”

Joe turned and tried to tuck the violet that had once been carefully pinned into her honey colored hair back into its place. “I have one.”

“But there must be at least a half a dozen of them out there.” She drew a deep breath and tried to stop the cascade of tears that waited just behind her eyes, “What will they do to me, Joe?”

Oh, God let them just kill her. Joe grabbed her hand but didn’t answer the question.  There were more horror stories circulating about Indian war parties in the last few months then Joe could recall from his entire life. They had left in their wake a fortune of damaged crops, terror, and death.

“Why didn’t I just take you to the restaurant at the hotel?” Joe’s words were barely audible. He held her gaze sorrowfully. “Why a picnic?”

“I love picnics,” Maggie squeezed Joe’s hand, the first of her tears falling.

As they sat there the braves would be closing in, inching their way up the rocky slope. There was no escaping. No way out.

“Don’t let them take me.” Maggie cried, “That girl Roy brought in last week, Joe… I don’t want to end up like the others.”

“They won’t touch you while I breathe.” It wasn’t much of a promise but it was all he had. All he could do except…

“Use it.” Maggie spoke what Joe’s entire being was rebelling against. “I know why you’re taught to save the last bullet. So use it.”

“Maggie…” He was shaking his head.

“I don’t want to die, Joe. Use it.”

How could she say she didn’t want to die and yet ask for death in the same breath? “I couldn’t… I can’t.”

She reached her hand around his and pulled the gun toward herself. “It’ll be better this way.”

Joe resisted and she pulled harder, “No,” tears began to slide down his face, “we haven’t even had our dessert yet.”

“Silly boy,” Maggie smiled for just a second as she worked her finger around the trigger. “Run straight at them Joe.” Her face grew sober. “Don’t let them take you alive. Run until…”

Joe nodded and turned his head to look back. “Goodbye, Joe.” The gun went off in Joe’s hand. He whipped his head around in time to see the pain leaving her eyes as death took her. Joe cast aside the gun as if it was on fire.

“Maggie,” He closed her eyes, kissed her cheek, lowered her to the ground, then moved to join her in death by charging into the open. Two running steps out and he was thrown down with an arrow in his shoulder. Get up! He pulled himself up and stood. Down again the air whooshing out of him.

Gun shots? The Indians didn’t have guns. Two pistols and one rifle. Joe lifted his head up and watched for a moment. “Pa,” He let his head fall back to the ground. He breathed deeply to try and cope with the waves of pain that crept over his body. He wasn’t even sure where the second arrow had hit him.

Joe’s eyes snapped open. “Maggie,” It was nearly a scream. He couldn’t move. Darkness began to crowd out the daylight. “Oh, God,” Joe prayed in a whisper, “Let me die.”

End Notes:

Thank you for reading.

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