End of the Bennett Crew

A tall man, the hem of his duster brushing against the wooden floorboards, pushed open the saloon floors, striding into the building.

"I'm Carter, Mr Carter if you please, and I'm here on business!" Carter reached into his duster, making briefly visible the pistol holstered at his hip, and pulled out a rolled-up 'wanted' poster. "Gov'ment has empowered myself with the capture of these outlaws, the Bennett Crew, dead or alive. Any knowledge of them?"

The saloon's patrons each studied the pictures, all of them of women, on the poster until it returned to its owner.

"They got a ranch a few miles up north," A grizzled old man, his skin leathery from years in the sun, had risen, a quivering finger indicating the direction he meant. "Gunned down Ol' Bill to have it. And that bombshell young wife of his."

"My thanks sir," Carter touched the brim of his hat as he smiled. "I'll buy you a drink when I return."

Carter considered plans of action as he strode to his horse and climbed onto the saddle. There were four targets waiting for him at the ranch, four vicious women who killed for fun. His mind continued trying to solve the problem as farmland flashed past, frown lines deepening on his face. He slowed as a crumpled heap appeared ahead of him, dismounted when it became a man’s corpse.

"Ol' Bill I presume."

With senses now alert Carter quickly searched the area, making note of any prints he spotted.

***

"Bitches rode you down Bill," Carter squatted next to the body, examining the wounds he could see. "Guessing it was 'Lanta who actually done it. Blade-work always was her style."

An image of a dark-skinned face and a teasing grin went through Carter’s mind, Atlanta Hawkins as he remembered her from his last encounter with the Bennett Crew. Rising and taking hold of his horse's reins Carter continued moving, switching between scanning the surrounding landscape and following the hoof-prints. He stopped again when a house came into view, crouched below the height of the cornstalks, and slowly drew his pistols. He'd seen movement, a flash of jet black hair, on the house's porch, the gang's best eye making her patrol.

Zoe Adams had been a menace, keeping him pinned and the last to escape, when he'd gone after them before. Jumping over the fence dividing the road from the fields of corn Carter inched his way closer to the house, pausing at every strange noise he heard. Eventually he reached the edge of the field, gently brushing corn aside, and watched the house, trying to calculate how to reach it safely. He could see a motionless woman sprawled facedown against the dirt, Bill's wife if he guessed, and after a moment ran to her side.

Even in death the woman was as pretty as described, her body fit and nicely curved. After a sigh of regret Carter finished crossing to the porch, crouching below a window before slowly peeking through.

***

Atlanta was reclining in a chair, almost compulsively wiping clean a machete, while occasionally glancing up, eyes half-lidded with boredom.

'Kota, shut up. When's the next hit?"

Dakota May, a blonde whose skimpy outfit showed off her taut and fair-skinned belly, scowled at being interrupted.

"Tomorrow. Kylie reckons it'll be a postal coach."

"More dross? Doesn't the slut know we're running out of the old man's booze?"

"Kylie knows. Why else does she have her own stash?"

Carter lowered himself, leaning against the wall, and shifted the grip he had on his pistols, psyching himself up.

He rose, spinning on a heel, and opened fire. The window shattered, glass shards flying into the room, and the sounds of bullets slapping into flesh, of women squealing in pain, cut through the ringing. Atlanta hadn't moved, a hole punched into her forehead, while Dakota was on her knees, clutching her pierced stomach. Carter watched her writhe with pain for a second, feeling the porch vibrating beneath him as Zoe ran round the house, and put another bullet into the blonde, instantly turning to fire at Zoe as the black-haired woman came from around the corner.

Squawking Zoe tumbled back and over the railing, for a moment her skirt flying up to reveal her panties. He was panting as the racket of the last few seconds faded, his ears straining to listen for the last gang member. A loud boom took his hearing away again, a section of wall disintegrating, and Carter ducked.

***

He popped up a moment later, pistols sweeping the room, but found it empty of life. Letting out a curse of frustration Carter charged for the house's front door, recklessly barging it open, and only once inside did he pause. A spent shotgun shell was on the floor where Kylie had stood, a small mercy, and Carter took more solace in that another shot hadn't been fired.

The rest of the ground floor, the ruined dining room and the ransacked kitchen, was clear, the backdoor wedged shut from outside. Carter halted at the base of the staircase leading to the first floor, pistols held at the ready.

"Miss Kylie Bennett! There's either a noose or my bullet waiting for you! Best you surrender and live a bit longer!" The silence was nearly as deafening as the earlier shooting as Carter ascended the staircase one step at a time. The hallway at the top ran the length of the house, rooms on both sides of the staircase, and Carter paused. "Miss Kylie Bennett!"

The creak of shifting wood came from his left, coming from either a floorboard or... Carter cursed again, realizing she was trying to escape, and ran for the noise, pushing into what appeared to be a bedroom in time to see Kylie straddling the window frame. She was holding her single-barrelled shotgun awkwardly but Carter still dived to one side as she pulled the trigger, protectively covering his head as fragments from the door flew in all directions.

***

In a flash he was standing again, a pistol aimed steadily at Kylie as she prepared to scramble onto the porch roof. The sound of his shot was lost beneath the lingering noise of the shotgun blast but Kylie arched her back, a growing splotch of crimson appearing on her blouse, before limply tumbling out of sight. Carter felt the tension start falling from his bones and crossed the room to the window. Kylie had slithered almost to the edge of the porch roof, an arm hanging over the lip, and Carter sighed at the thought of having to get her down.

In the ranch's barns though Carter found a long hook, vaguely recalling it was for animal control, and also a cart. Harnessing his horse to it Carter drove the cart to the front of the house, loading the bodies of the Bennett Crew and Ol' Bill's wife into the back. Each outlaw was carelessly handled, Carter's wandering hands touched places they shouldn't, and he arranged them atop each other, cooling flesh pressing against cooling flesh.

The drive back to the saloon was peaceful, Carter feeling himself continuing to come down from the adrenaline. He collected Ol' Bill when he reached the dead man, rearranging the Bennett Crew so that Ol' Bill could be with his wife, and was weary by the time the cart rumbled towards the saloon. The man who'd helped him earlier was still there and Carter placed a mug on his table.

"My thank sir."