Arrows In The Night

“You can’t be serious!”

She looked at him with what she knew was pathetic desperation - but it was the last trick she had up her sleeve. The last thing she could throw at him in futile attempts to convince him. But alas - no use. He was set in his ways and even more the mindset. There was no talking him out of it.

He shouldered his 12 gauge. Tipped his cowboy hat like the gentleman she remembered. “Darling, I will not stand for this sorta behavior - besides,” He pecked her a kiss on the cheek. “If we don't teach ‘em a lesson who knows, the horses might be next.”

Jack was referring to the Indian boys. The ones who had come by every night for the last week and stolen something. Grain. Tack. Three cattle and last night: the Riffle Jack kept in the barn. They were getting bold and careless. A combination that was about to put them in an early grave. Still, Ally hated the idea of Jack just killing them. They had families… right?

Without another word or second to hear her reply - jack was out. Porch door clattering shut behind him.

It was close to dusk. The sun was resting above the Tobacco Root Range - just barely slipping into her sunset colors. Something about this hour made Ally anxious. Coyotes crying over the still plains. No deer or birds to be seen. The afternoon breeze wore tired. It was just a frozen suspension of time until night came. And, according to Jack, was the perfect time to set up an ambush.

She watched through the little kitchen window as he entered the barn. With no lantern in his hand, he seamlessly slipped into the hayloft. She saw the tip of his shotgun peek through the window. Aimed into the treeline.

She couldn't watch. Cowboys and Indians - never something she concerned herself with. It never ended well for anyone. Revenge was a funny thing like that out here. Out in the Mining settlements of the West. Lawless and untamed - that's how everything worked.

As the sun finished up and sunk far below the horizon, Ally tried to busy herself. Dishes. Sock mending. Checking on the stew, simmering above the woodstove. All while biting her fingernails and pacing. She didn't dare look through the windows. And she tried not to pay attention to just how silent the word was outside. It had almost been an hour and a half when the first hint of action appeared.

With a knock at the door.

At first, she was puzzled. Naively puzzled - why would jack knock to come into his own house? She stood, setting his torn button up on the sofa. Ally strode over to the front door, shaking her head. She reached out - wrapped her hands around the door nob when suddenly came the roaring sound of the shotgun. From the barn. The barn across the field.

Now more afraid than perplexed, Ally staggered back from the door. Jack is at the barn - she thought. She knew,

Jack had prepared her for something like this though she never thought the occasion would actually arise. She thought it was ridiculous. What trouble would the two newlyweds ever cause to invite Outlaws or Native Americans? Apparently, that didn't even matter.

With a shaking hand, Ally retrieved the revolver from inside the flowerpot by the door. Loaded and ready to fire. Jack had spent many days with his wife out in the fields. Shooting cans and tomatoes. Encouraging her to better her aim. She had become quite skilled, but the game was different now. The stranger behind her door was no unarmed fruit.

For a split moment, standing like a dear in the headlights, Ally debated her options. Race out the back door and make a break for Jack, lock herself in the bedroom, or open the door. She was leaning towards just getting to Jack. Running as fast as she could when the door just popped open. Kicked with such force it crashed into the back wall and fell from its hinges. Ally screamed. She raised the pistol to her eye level and fired. Once. Twice. The pop of the little gun echoed in the small space. She was still screaming over the sound of it all. Over the footsteps getting quite close.

She turned and ran into the kitchen with flighty long strides. Grabbed the knife on the counter, still red and dripping from the deer quarters she had just cut up. Without aiming, she threw it like a madwoman at the door, as a tall silhouette walked in. He dodged it and it stuck with a thud in the wooden logs of the back wall. He was hollering something but she could hardly hear it. She reached for the paring knife. Threw that too as a diversion while she flew through the back door. Leaping off the steps into the freezing night. Thoughts of Indians and her husband gone. Her only goal at this point was to get rid of her attacker.

She called Jacks name into the dark. Only to be greeted with silence.

Realizing - accepting - the fact that she was on her own, Ally spun on her heels. Faced the shadow stepping of the porch. Slowly. Calmly.

“What do you want -” Ally hollered. Raising the gun once more. But this time - her eyes were open. This time she looked her assailant in the eyes.

And, after one long second filled with heavy breathing and half-muttered curse words…

Ally burst out laughing. Dropped the gun to her side.

“You pass the test, love,” Chuckled her husband.

Jack dropped his hands to his side. That wild mischievous smile she had fallen in love with walked right up to her. He was her assailant. She felt her heart just stop from the adrenaline rush and crash as he embraced her. Well, after pulling out the sheet of tin beneath his vest. With two small shell indents just beneath the collarbone.

“I could have killed you!” Ally was baffled. A little angry now. “What was all that for - and were are the idians?"

“I wanted to make absolutely certain you could take care of yourself!” He was still laughing. “Might i just say that was some fine shooting though? Eyes closed and all. As far as them idians go they never showed!”

Ally nodded. Amused and extremlt relieved. “Mighty fine door breaking might I add.” Ally scolded as they wandered back towards the house.

Jack was halfway through a sarcastic apology when he just stopped. Mid-step and sentence he just froze. When Ally turned to look behind her she clasped a hand over her mouth. Air drained from her lungs as she watched her husband fall facefirst to the earth.

A long and sinfully narrow arrow sticking out of his shoulder.