Drabble challenge: Here, Take my Blanket (Nick and Jess)
Jess’ favorite birthday present had been from her father: a train ticket for a two-way ride down the West Coast. Construction on the railroad had only just finished a few months ago, and anyone who was anyone was scrambling to get a ticket. Of course, being the daughter of the Oregon State Marshal came with quite a few perks. The proprietor of the brand new railway owed Bob a huge favor in exchange for driving off thieves during the completion of the project, and he was more than happy to rent out a private car on the train so Jess could ride along the coast in the lap of luxury.
“You’re a grown woman now,” her father had said proudly, twirling the end of his mustache. “Go see the sights.”
But so far the only sight she’s seen is the inside of a burlap sack. The train hadn’t even reached its second stop when it was brought to a sudden halt by three outlaws, one of which had broken into her train car and grabbed her by the wrist and hauled her up off her seat. She had tried to fight him off, but it was difficult to do with his pistol pressed to her temple.
The outlaw had used her as a human shield as one of the train guards tried to find a clean shot at the bandit, but that didn’t stop Jess from kicking and screaming in his arms as he jumped back onto his horse and carried her off along with a bag of valuables he’d stolen from the train. She’d cried and yelled for help, but the bandit was too fast on horseback for any potential rescuer to come after her. He only paused once they were well out of reach of the train, and even then he’d only slowed down just enough to tie up her wrists and cover her eyes so she wouldn’t be able to see where he was taking her.
Now, several hours later, she’s sitting on the ground with her hands bound behind her back and a sack over her head to keep her from seeing her captors or figuring out their location. She’s tried screaming for help, but she lost her voice after nearly an hour of riding blindly on the back of a horse. They’ve since joined up with the other bandits who were robbing the train, and the three of them whisper frantically among themselves. Each time she tries to interrupt, one of the outlaws angrily snaps at her to shut up while the man who’d taken her captive frets nervously about wanting her to quiet down.
They’re in the middle of nowhere and even if she managed to escape she hasn’t got the slightest idea of where she is. There’s no way she’d make it to the nearest sign of civilization before dying from dehydration or starvation. She can feel the ice cold fear running through her veins now that the initial shock of being snatched from the safety of the train has faded. Jess has heard hundreds of horror stories about girls trapped in her position: stolen away by vile, disgusting men who did awful, unspeakable things to them.
“I can’t believe you, Schmitty!” one of the outlaws yells. “We don’t take hostages!”
“Yeah, man,” another outlaw agrees.
“Look,” the third outlaw, Schmitty, says placatingly. “It all happened so fast.”
“I don’t give a damn how fast it happened,” the first outlaw counters. “I wanna know how you plan to get out of this sticky situation.”
“We’ll kill her!” the second outlaw suggests with a wild edge to his voice, and Jess’ stomach sinks at the distinguishable sound of him cocking his pistol.
“Winnie! Put that away!” the first outlaw, presumably the leader of the three, cuts in quickly. A wave of relief washes over her at the sound of Winnie shoving his pistol back into his holster. “Look, we’ll drop her off on the outskirts of the nearest town. No questions, no one gets hurt, and the little lady gets home without any trouble.”
“What, Schmitty?” the lead outlaw says sharply. “Haven’t you done enough damage today?”
“Well…” His tone is dangerous in a way that makes Jess nervous. “I was just going to suggest that maybe we can get a little extra coin for returning her safe and sound.”
There’s a long pause, with nothing but the nearby noise of the outlaws’ horses to break the silence.
“Like a ransom?” the lead outlaw asks. “Ain’t we got enough of a price on our heads?”
“It’d be nice to have the money,” Winnie says.
“We don’t even know who she is,” the lead outlaw says skeptically. “Could be some nobody.”
“In her own roomette train car?” Schmitty counters.
Winnie’s voice comes a little closer. “Let’s find out.”
There’s a sudden rush of air as Winnie lifts the burlap sack off Jess’ head. She takes a heaving gasp, grateful to breathe fresh air instead of the warm, damp air that had been circulating through the sack. Jess blinks at the bright sunlight overhead and looks up at her three kidnappers.
For outlaws, she’d expected a bit more, like a missing eye or scraggly beard or at least a nasty looking scar. Instead, the three men are rather normal looking. A little bit of fear slowly releases its chokehold on her heart at the sight of them. Their trousers, shirts, and boots are more than a little worn down, as are their beat up leather holsters slung round their waists and filled with bullets and different types of guns. All three are about her age, and if they’d been cleaned up a little they could even pass for some of the suitors her mother keeps trying to set her up with. And it might be her imagination, but she swears that she sees a flicker of interest in the dark eyes of the man in the middle once her face is revealed.
The man has messy brown hair that’s in need of a pair of clippers, a shadow of scruff on his jaw, dark leather suspenders and a kerchief tied haphazardly around his neck. Mister suspenders takes a step forward and clears his throat before saying, “Alright, little lady. My name’s Julius-”
“Oh, not this again,” Winnie, a dark skinned man with a faint mustache and rifle slung over his shoulder, interrupts but he’s quickly cut off by a glare from the lead outlaw.
“Name’s Julius Pepperwood. This here’s Winnie the Bish,” he jerks his thumb back towards Winnie, who gives her a wave with the hand not holding his gun. “And that’s Fat Schmidt.”
The other man, presumably Schmitty, tips his hat at her. He’s surprisingly well-groomed, especially compared to the other two, his hair carefully slicked back beneath his cowboy hat and face clean shaven. Even without his mask she can recognize him as the man who yanked her out of her seat before he snatched her from the train.
Jess frowns as she looks between the three of them. “Why is he Fat Schmidt if he’s not fat?”
“He was a fat kid. Name stuck,” Julius says dismissively.
“You’ve been an outlaw since you were a kid?” Jess asks, her voice still hoarse from yelling earlier. It’s hard to picture some chubby eleven-year old trying to rob a train.
“No, but see it’s ironically funny now, because I’m so lean,” Fat Schmidt explains, sounding a little defensive as he begins to shrug off his vest. “Here, I’ll show you-”
“Keep your shirt on, Schmitty,” Winnie yells.
“Hey.” Julius points an accusing finger at Jess. “We’re the ones asking the questions here.” He crouches down to look her in the eye, one hand resting on his bent knee with the other on his belt buckle and in easy reach of his pistol. “Now, we don’t wanna kill you, well, Winnie here might. But I wanna get you back to your parents safe and sound. So why don’t you be a good little hostage and tell us who you are and where you’re from.”
Jess stares at him, trying to look unimpressed. “My name is Jessica Day, and my father is Robert Day, the Oregon State Marshal.”
Schmitty’s eyes go wide and Winnie curses under his breath.
“Well fuck me in the fucking ass,” Julius mutters as he stands up quickly and snatches the bag out of Winnie’s hands before dropping it back over her head.
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