The Wild Witch

The beating of the horses hooves as it thundered against the baked Oregon earth. The tremor clattered through Agnes’ body like a leaf in a storm. She held tighter to the reins, she was simply running out of time. The heat of the morning had caught up to her as it blazed through her small womanly frame, she could only get away with so much as she pretended to be a man. She slashed the reins harder against the body of the horse she had stolen yesterday. It was the ends to a means. Anything to be standing on that train, anything to be apart of his plan, anything for her name to be out there. If there was an extra bonus of money involved, well that was an extra bonus!

The train was far in the distance, it was a passenger locomotive and the paint reflected off its own in the morning’s rays.

“Come on, old boy!” She muttered into the horse’s ear as she whipped it again, it seemed to be at it’s limits. She felt herself slip a little in the saddle as she gripped the reins tighter and bolstered herself up. Bits of earth broke free of the desert as they flew in all directions. The train slowed, the large carts stopping slowly as the driver had applied the breaks. Lady Luck was on her side. Agnes’ lips formed a small smile, this was a good sign, a powerful sign that the gang had been successful in their heist! From this act, she could boost her reputation to not just being called the ‘Witch’ from the Old Islands anymore. The Old Islands, far from America and its wild ways had long ago been abandoned by time. She had left it behind just like she had with her family, that was in the past and she was looking forward to the future.

She pulled the reins of the horse sharply as it stopped just before the train. Screaming and crying came from within the dark box that made Agnes fearful. The horse whinnied as she unsaddled herself, dropping to the floor with a thud. Her boots greeted the dirt as she looked at the train, women and children were trying to depart from its small windows as they looked at her with silent pleas for help. She ignored their pleas and walked straight up to the door of the train. She banged on it with three short blows as she was greeted by the sight of ‘Dirtyfinger’ a rough unknown man from the Arizona desert who came to town only a couple of years ago. His worn weathered face dotted with scars from long ago as he looked at her with a casual glance and a gleam in his eyes. He knew who she was before she had even spoken her name.

Without any words spoken, he let her into the train with his hand he placed for help, he helped her up, most of the passengers looked at her with pleading eyes and wet, hot tears streaming down their faces. But there, her target, at the front of the carriage.

A man with a snotty face and wet tears, he seemed to be of age twenty and five from his attire. Buster their leader, a man who was legendary in the West. He had seen everything, abandoned by everyone he loved and a wanted man far across the American border.

Buster was at least older than Agnes but she couldn’t quite place what she he is due to his weathered and worn face. He pointed the barrel of a gun at the poor boy’s head. “Buster.” Agnes greeted the leader with a stern voice, she wouldn’t have done this if she didn’t have the ‘powers’. She was still a woman after all and these were no times for women to voice their concerns. Buster looked at her with a blistered cracked smile, that smile sent a cold shiver down her spine. He would frighten the life out of anyone, even the guards considered him better with a noose around his neck. “Put it down. I’ll handle this.” Agnes calmly said as she used her hands to try and help the situation. Buster pushed the barrel harder into the man’s head to which the man just took this as a sign. The poor man squealed louder like a pig, which to Buster’s men around them chuckled, the youngest lad had to only be seventeen.

“I can make him forget everything.” Agnes whispered as she took a little step forwards to the man. Buster nodded his head, as he took the seat opposite the man as he still pointed the gun at the poor man. He wasn’t out of the woods just yet. His tin star badge glittered in the afternoon’s light, the gang members stepped back and had all bit their tongues, for they had known better than to mess with a ‘witch’. This ‘witch’ approached the hostage, she held the tip of her middle finger outstretched as she approached the hostage and had pressed it against his forehead. She took a seat beside Buster as she held her finger in place and leaned close to the hostage. Buster pressed the gun against her own back, if she made one mistake, it would cost the life of her and the fate of this poor hostage. “Forget” she whispered into the hostage’s ear, the man closed his eyes for the power she weld was too powerful even for herself sometimes. She turned around to face Buster, his smile plastered on his cracked, worn lips as she nodded. This was his time to take everything and leave. The man who she still had her finger on was softly snoring in his sleep, unaware of what it where he was. Buster got up and reached deep into his pockets, he took out about $20, more than she ever charged anyone in her life. He left it in her purse on the side of the seat and tipped his hand like a gentleman instead of an outlaw.

He whistled his tongue as the gang took their leave and left, the clattering of horses signalled their escape. Agnes didn’t know how much longer she could keep her finger on for, if the man awoke and she was still there, well a night in the townhouse jail would be her bed for a little while. She wanted to give Buster and his men a head start. She wasn’t that experienced with her talents, she was still a learner and an inexperienced one at that!

She still wasn’t used to each touch and word leaving and draining her energy of everything she’d had. It still felt unnatural and uncomfortable at times, especially in a life and death situation like this. The train still hadn’t moved an inch, if she took her hand off him, she had exactly a minute to the door and even then if her horse hadn’t been taken, it was still a long trek back to Deadwood. This simple act had already made her fingers feel a little numb and the feeling wouldn’t return to normal for at least a couple of hours. It could render her immobile and therefore make her escape impossible!

Agnes took a deep breath and pulled her finger away, the man slowly stopped snoring. She backed a little from him and snatched her purse back, the passengers around her cowered in fear away from her, she was a demon.

She turned her heel and walked straight out the door and into the afternoon light, the hostage kept his pace behind her, he knew who she was and why she was there.

“Stop!” He called after her, but she kept her heel fast as she could feel him getting closer to her, closing in on her.

She could feel the chains and the clanking of the jailer’s keys just as she looked at where the horse was, a sinking feeling overwhelmed her.

The horse was gone.

Buster had abandoned her.

Even without the horse, she pounded against the earth as she broke into a run across the desert, she could get there in record time. The train wouldn’t be there until well after she had left the town. She could feel the heat overtake her senses as her eyes watered, her mouth tasted dry and bitter as she tried to swallow the pride away.

The town was just there in the distance, the mayors mansion greeted her as it was a few yards away, she could smell her freedom even before she could reach it.

That isn’t the ending to this story.

Agnes’ tale is a long and complicated story.

She came this close to freedom but the man had other ideas, he pointed his gun and took his shot.

The shot pierced her shoulder, the pain washed over her like a fire burning in the pit of her stomach. She felt the blood curdle as she touched her shoulder instinctively out of fear and pressure to stop the wound.

The man came up behind her as she leaned against the earth on her back watching the sky move slowly, she closed her eyes and dreamt of her world back home. When she used to take lessons in her garden with her mentors and family, she used to lie on her back and watch the sky flicker into peaceful moments. The man had her right where he needed her. She closed her eyes and dreamed of her first night as a prisoner and then as a free woman.