The Ocean’s City
Chapter 27

As my eyes quickly glanced around, determining the level of danger I was possibly in, pieces of the puzzle slowly connected. The blue sky, the flat desert ground that went on for miles and miles, and then the tumbleweed that drifted carelessly distracted me momentarily. 

If that damn free-willed weed wasn’t too far away, I would have stomped it down. How dare it flaunter its carefree life while mine was thrown left and right like an indecisive tornado.

The horse closest to me tossed his head, playing with the bit in its mouth, causing me to jump back more, hitting the house. My hand flew to my chest as I stared at the beast.

The man on the horse looked, waiting for me to say anything. “Dalton will be back soon.”

The man looked at my body, giving it a greedy look, before swinging a leg over and hopping down. The spurs on his boots clattered as he sucked the saliva in his mouth, his lips caving in, spitting it a distance away. He leaned most of his weight on one side and put his hand on his belt. His rough composure screamed outlaw cowboy from the Wild West.

He smiled as he spoke, slowly taking steps closer, spurs clicking. “I don’t know who that is, but if I’m not mistaken... You are out here all alone.” There was still a distance away from me, but I could smell horse, sweat, and smoke on him.

I gnawed at the inside of my cheek, cursing myself for even speaking. His eyes were heavy with ill intent and hunger. I turned on my heel to return to the house and prayed everything would work out.

“We got a runner, boys!” He shouted to his friends, but it was too close to my ear; then, without a moment wasted, my feet were lifted in the air, and my back hit against something hard. I let out a scream and flared my arms and legs.

His husky laugh muffled the sounds of the other men hooting. The smell of rotten alcohol burned my nostrils. “What do you say we have some fun, eh?”

His hand was rough as it found the bare skin at the side of my waist. The horses neighed. My hands flew back, seeing his face near mine. The excited gunshot rumbled through the empty sky. I pinched my eyes closed and gorged my thumb into one of his eyes. My other hand fought miserably to find the other eye. I ignored the sweating skin scraping under my nails and the feel of these slimy eyeballs. I didn’t think what I was doing as he grunted, his hot air flying straight into my ear, filling me with disgust.

He flung me to the floor. My head hit the side of the house, but although the vibrations rang in my head, I was too worried about surviving to feel the pain. His right eye was watering up and closed from my thumb, jamming inside it. The left side of his face had a single streak of blood down his cheek. It looked like a kitten had scratched him.

His anger didn’t deter him from his task at hand —to play with me like a tiny, helpless mouse.

“She’s a frisky one.” He grunted. It was loud enough for the other men to hear, but it seemed more like he meant the comment for himself.

He stomped his heavy boots towards me like I was his dinner, about to run away. Without looking, my ears listened to the other men hopping off their horses and excitedly moving around.

I couldn’t fight them all off but couldn’t find another solution. Deep down, I knew I just needed to buy some time. The man leaned down to get a hold of me. My timing was right as my foot lurched forward, hitting him straight in the face and knocking him backward. He stumbled, gained momentum, and was striding back to me.

I tried to crawl away; I wanted to stand, but with all the adrenaline flowing through me, I couldn’t function properly. My foot cranked back, ready to kick him again, but this time, he was aware and caught my foot. His other hand rose as if he was about to punch me.

I knew I needed to close my eyes and prepare for impact, but it was like time went still. I looked into his piercing blue eyes, noticing the tiniest of scars where his eyebrows scrunched together as his unhinged, violent behavior raged out of him, determined to do me harm for no other reason than he wanted to.

The malice in his eyes fell lifeless as his fist lost momentum and slowly fell to his side. Blood flew like a comic book, followed by the flying of a bullet straight through his skull, leaving a circular hole. His eyes looked at me with a sort of innocence before he fell. I rolled before he could land on me, and then, like a delayed effect, I heard the gunshot. The one that had already gone through the dead man’s skull.

The man now lay where I was helplessly laying two seconds before. Blood pooled around his skull, and his lifeless eyes looked at me. My breath was almost nonexistent as I slowly turned to see two new horsemen had joined the crowd.

Dalton’s deadly stare glared at me like he was thinking: how dare I almost die. He held a pearly white revolver in his hands, smoke still lingering from the barrel.

The other cowboys made a ruckus, and then suddenly, a rain of bullets flew.

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