~The only sound ,to be heard, as the mad man laughs...~
~((Dedicated to Kimberly. Damned woman's got my heart and is forcing me to type the next chapter at 6:13 in the morning.))
Josiah held her for a long while and stroked her hair. He didn't really know what to do! The moment was begining to grow stale, so Josiah acted on instinct, it had never really served him that well. Making a silent prayer to god, he ducked his head, and kissed her. Clara returned the kiss feverently. Josiah found himself hugging her tightly, locked lip to lip, in a heated embrace. They broke for air, gasping, looking at one another. Clara blushed, but Josiah reasurred her, wiping away her tears and kissing the trails they had left in her makeup.
"Im so glad that youse could come visit me Clara." He said in a soft, husky, voice.
"And I too." She said smiling softly. "I have been thinking about you the entire time we have been apart." Clara said wrapping her arms about his waist. She pressed her head into his chest. "It was so hard." Looking up she whispered, "But it was all worth it." She took his hand and swept an arm out. "All of this...This one moment, Josiah, this is a gift." Looking at him she placed a hand on the side of his face, and pushed his lanky hair, behind his ears. Even now she remembered how self-conscious he was about his ears. They made him look dopey ,she had said, when she pushed his hair back. This time though...It was a sign of deep affection. A memoir of her long love for him. "Don't ever forsake this moment for anything. Because I wont." She said smiling brightly.
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Even now Josiah could remember that touch. It lingered on him as he fired his pistols. The same pistols he had crafted after his wife was murdered.
The first rangers fell and the U.S. soldiers began clambering in. They were upon him before he could chamber any more rounds. A gun battle was either about man power, or a mans ability to keep his distance and cover, allowing him to reload.
The men rushed in. Josiah fought like a demon, biting and kicking, at them in a flurry. A few lurched back. As Josiah surged forward, the butt, of a rifle cracked into his temple. Everything faded to blackness. He remembered feeling a tingling sensation in the toes of his boots and a burning feeling in his arm sockets and wrists. They were dragging him by his bound wrists, on a length of rope, behind a horse.
"Do we hang im' general?"
"No. We put him on trial and then we hang him in public."
"But general! He's killed scores of our men and injured four just recently!"
"There are no buts about it sergeant. You want to shovel horse s**t for the rest of your days and not get to see him hang, or, do you want to wait eight days to see him hang?" There was silence in the following. "Thats what I thought. Now just take him to the local holding jail until we can bring em' in county for prosectution."
After that Josiah felt himself dragged behind the horse for a long while. After awhile the back of his shirt and part of his pants had worn away, letting the road, chafe and cut his skin to shreds in certain areas. Even so, as he regained consciousness, he bit down on his lip and did not cry out. They didn't deserve to hear his screams. Part of him deserved this. He had killed many a man. This was part of his atonement.
Mercifully they stopped. A man walked over and untied Josiah from the horse and, made him stand, and walk. Each time he stumbled ,he recieved a blow to the back of the head, urging him on. The hand let go and he fell to the ground.
A foot plowed into his stomach, causing him to gasp, and wheeze. Another plowed into his face, crunching into, his nose. Hammer blows from fists rained down on him, again, and again..., and again. Even as blood poured into his eyes he kept them open. He deserved this... he deserved this. For what he had done. And what he was going to do.
No matter what though, he couldn't shut his eyes, he was so tired...Josiah could die right then and give it up. What kept his spirit alive, and his eyes open, as the blows rained, was Clara, her memorie running wild.
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The rest of the night Josiah danced with Clara. They walked back to the main party, hand in hand, the people clapped their hands upon seeing them. At the end of the night, when the party died down, Josiah turned to Clara.
"When will you be back Clara?" He asked, stroking her cheek, gently. She reached over with soft hands and smoothed his hair back again.
"I will be back every second day love. If I can't I'll surely let you know." Clara said, laying a kiss on his lips, then she turned and left in her coach. The linger of her kiss was tantilizing and haunting, but the anger he had supressed in the back of his head, was consuming.
The next day Josiah worked with Floyd. While he forged horseshoes with him, they worked on their usual trinkets, well Josiah did. Floyd was getting a bit old to do that kind of detailed work.
As they worked Josiah made different parts. He started with the rotating, revolver, and tucked it away after he had cooled, and finished tempering it each time. If Floyed saw him making one, the man, would surely make him throw it away.
This made progress slow. The only real time he had to work by himself, is when Floyd took a break, or he had called it a day.
It took him nearly two weeks to finish it. The thing was a work of art. Josiah had put a lot of time and effort into it. During that time, Clara had come by to visit, as she had promised. Sometimes she would sit and watch, Josiah at the anvil, hammering away. Other times when he was on break they would sit and talk about happy things. Things that had changed and things that hadn't. It helped him forget the anger that festered in the back of his head. They had spoken of her father only breifly. He lived a seven hour ride away on his plantation out on the edge Heidlesburg. A big blue house with brown, off coloured, shutters. Josiah had stored the information away without bringing up more on the subject.
To be honest when they were together, they spent, most of their time kissing; and holding one another. "I gots to go for about four days Clara." He mumbled. She stopped and looked at him. Her hair was drawn back in a bun, proper and cultured, as was her teaching.
"Why? Were are you planning on going?" She asked with a cute frown.
"Just out to get some things for Floyd." That was part of the truth. What she didn't know was that it wasn't that long of a ride.
"He's havin' you ride out that far? Why not order them with one of the messengers?" Josiah gave a fake laugh and ran a hand through her hair.
"Youse knows that old Floyd aint got no money for that. Besides. He taught me all I knows, so I'd be much obliged."
"You kind hearted fool." She said flicking his nose. Josiah smiled and kissed her. If only she knew. If only she knew how dark and black his soul really was. She was his beacon in a drowning pool of darkness.
"Besides. When I get back. I plan on marryin' youse." Josiah said.~
~Is like a concave scream...~
