Monday, April 30, 2012

Instruments of His Will

Alright, this week is looking rough what with final projects due for class and twice the work I'm used to.  Here is a quick scene involving Bill and Rico from early on.  I have been toying with a prequel story involving how these two came to work for the books major antagonist.  Might put some of that up later in the week.

“These boots are too loose.” Rico shifted his weight from heel to toe as he said it.  Bill didn’t spare him a glance as he swept the blade of his knife across the dead woman’s dress.  Blood streaked the yellow cloth in uneven patterns.  Slipping the blade into the sheath on his hip, Bill turned to watch his partner sway.
“Might try buying yourself a pair someday,” he said, studying the shoeless corpse nearby. “Or kill someone who wears your size.”  Rico stomped his left foot a couple times to make sure the boot would stay.
“Used to get boots made at this little shop back in Rolin Creek.  Fit like a second skin.” Rico said, his voice heavy with the memory.  Bill grabbed the woman by the legs and dragged her off the road.
“Yeah, I know.  You can’t go back there because you’ve got an 80 dollar bounty on your head and a dozen angry brothers who are dying to collect.  Or was it husbands?  I can never keep your bullshit straight.” Bill stood up and stretched his back, watching the sun dip below the hills.
“90 dollars and it was both.  And it ain’t bullshit!” Rico growled back as he dragged the dead man over.  Bill didn’t actually doubt the truth of it.  Rico was half-mad when he wasn’t piss drunk, which was rare.  Twice he’d seen the man snap and twice it left someone dead who truly didn’t warrant it.
“Never mind that.  We better get to the south road and set up camp.  Boss says that new lawyer is supposed to ride through in the morning.”  Bill snatched his gun belt from the tree where he’d hung it and slipped it back into place.  The weight of the pistol helped put him at ease.
“Are we killing him or scaring him?” Rico asked, and his emphasis on the word killing making his preference clear.  Rico had always carried an obvious disdain for greenhorns and city slickers of all stripes.  Bill had asked him about it once and only gotten that they were greedy and spineless.  His own experiences with folks from back east were minimal so he didn’t really have an argument against it.
“Boss wasn’t too clear on that.  We will start with talking and see where it goes from there,” he said, turning to face Rico and closing the distance between them.  “Talk first, you get me?  Not like last time.”
“I got it.  I done apologized about that.” Rico replied, his eyes dropping to his new boots.  Bill was the only one who ever seemed to get that kind of reaction from him.  It had been that way since they first teamed up in Nevada nearly a decade back.

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