Happy Family

Chapter Eleven

But Moses and I were growing boys, and we began to crave a little more than robbing stores and conning people in poker games. We began moving on to weights that were too heavy for our inexperienced shoulders.

And it nearly crushed us.

It was 1967 when Moses approached us about the job.

It was around winter time, so maybe two or three months after we had picked up little Milly May—a four-year-old that we'd taken in from a dying street-worker because Colt was a serial 'rescuer of the unfortunate' by now. Mort was no longer in any position to resist him in these adoptions anymore, but he obliged under the guise of "at least this one looks like me."

That was also the time George came. There wasn't, and still isn't, much to say about your Uncle George. He was quiet and mostly kept to himself, but he was just as protective over the family as any of us. It was understandable, seeing as he was the son of a 'family friend' that had passed away, and Colt had rescued him from the feds.

Miriam joined our ranks the year prior.

She was an eager thing, a little older than me, and we'd gotten very well when it came to our jobs. We were old enough at sixteen and seventeen to start branching off and making money for the family, and we were glad to stretch our legs and run amuck in the town for some fresh air.

We didn't stay in constant travel anymore; the family set up a home base in a promising town and each member was tasked with earning money or doing chores while Colt and Mort were on the look out for bigger scores. When the big scores were done, we moved on.

Colt and Mort would handle the grand master-planning, scheming and plotting from our home base. Miriam and I scouted the town, blended in with the local teens, and made small scores in the meantime to keep us fed and watered. Milly, George, and Mosie-Wosie stayed home, studied with Mort, and did chores to earn their keep unless they were needed for a con.

I don't quite know how the order and hierarchy got lost on Moses. Or why I let him get me lost, too.

"Miss Milly May!" Aaron barked across the battlefield. He tilted his hat up from his face, looking up with his head low as his hands hovered over the guns in their holsters on his side. "Your time has come."

On the other side of the battlefield, a girl stood with oversized black sunglasses obscuring her face, poofy pigtails shining under the sweltering sun. The girl lifted her chin at the man and twirled her gun around her clumsy finger. She dropped it-- then quickly scrambled to pick it back up while holding onto her sunglasses from falling.

"Officer Aarie!" Milly called back. "You won't take me alive!"

Aaron drew his pistols and twirled them around his own fingers, throwing them up above his head and capturing them again with a wolfish grin. Milly clapped for him.

When he stopped, he pointed them in the air and took a step back. The girl did the same. They turned around and began to march three steps forward. Before the third step, Milly twirled back around and shot her gun at him. Aaron yelped out in surprise as the bullet pierced his back.

"You cheat! You were supposed to wait until three!" Aaron cried. When the girl pouted, he relented and wailed with the back of his hand against his forehead. "Oh, agony! I'm dying!"

Aaron fell to the ground on his stomach. His face hit the ground, and he tasted the ground that would be his future grave. A betrayal, a catastrophe— the infamous Aarie Temple had been defeated by his own baby sister.

Said baby sister stepped over to him and kicked his limp body as she giggled evilly. After a couple kicks, Aaron still didn't answer her. He giggles became quiet as she dropped to her knees and began to shake him. She called his name, trying to wake him up, but he was still. The tremble in her voice prepared her for the wailing that was about to come.