An Outlaw's Redemption

Chapter Thirty

July 1865

Constant defiance from a man who had begged him to take him in his gang; that is when the trouble started Weston remembered. Andy Shepherd was never one to agree with anything he said. He undermined him and questioned him all the time. It was a wonder Barlow had not shot him by now. He always had a big voice, but never the backbone nor the talent to back it up. Like that one day when Andy tried to challenge him yet again.

"What in the world?" Andy shouted.

"What? You're surprised I beat you again? It's the fifth time in six months you've tried to outgun me."

"How are you always able to do that? The least you could do is train your men to shoot as well as you. I've heard you haven't ever really learned something unless you can teach it."

Weston sighed and reloaded his weapon then lowered the gun, "Andy, some folks aren't teachable, but I've told you time and time again..." he took a step closer, "The secret is just three simple words." He narrowed his eyes and lifted Andy's chin with the tip of his gun and cocked his head to the side, "Absolute. Physical. Control."

Dropping his gun back into the holster, he turned and headed back to the fire. A stiff wind blew through them; despite it being July, the air was chilled. The other men snickered at Andy failing once again.

"When will you ever learn?" they said.

Their constant disbelief in him was enough to make the hate he had for their big named boss grow ten times larger. Murmuring under his breath, he tried twirling his gun, but due to his clumsiness, the gun went off.

Weston dropped the mug of coffee he'd just poured and fell to his knees. Glancing back at Andy, he narrowed his eyes, and his gun pointed back at him, "Drop it now, Andy, or I'll do it for you."

He dropped the pistol, "I...um."

"We're way past apologies; you shot me with my back turned!"

Andy gazed at the blood trickling down from Weston's thigh and shook his head, "I didn't mean to shoot you."

Weston holstered his gun and Clay neared him to examine the wound, "I'll get that out for you, boss." Weston nodded and as Clay passed by Andy to get a knife, he said, "Life is tough, but it's a lot tougher when you're stupid, Andy."

That did it.

That made Andy hate Barlow even more.

Under his breath, as he passed by Weston, he said, "I'll kill you someday, Barlow! I swear it!"

But his voice was heard by Weston, who glanced up at him and said quietly, as though it were just between them, "If you want to seem threatening, Andy, don't go straight for death. Try breaking a man down first by telling him how you're going to destroy everything he stands for...going for death first is a bit boring. Remember you asked to join me, I didn't go find you; you're free to leave whenever you want. No hard feelings."

Andy shook his head and knelt down to Weston, staring him in the eye with a newfound hatred, "Naw...I'll be staying real close to you from now on. I want you to feel me in the shadows until you're so scared you can't walk ten feet without wondering if I'm there."

Weston sighed, watched as Clay headed back to them, wiped a bloody hand on Andy's shirt and smirked, "Andy, I'm shaking in my boots."

* * * *

Present Day - April 1867

Morning dawned at the edge of Hope Springs. While the rest of the world lay asleep, Jimmy was making an early call to the home of Everett Clayton. If everything Doris had told him was true, he was certain he could use both Weston's skill and his own cunning abilities to sway Everett into an honorable defeat.