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Herd of Bandits chapter 2 (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
"I did it." Deacon thought to himself. "I am officially an outlaw. There's no turning back now. If the Union catches me, I'll get hung."

Deacon's thoughts raced as he tried to determine his next step.

"Should I go into hiding? Nah if I ever get caught, I won't be able to hold them off successfully. I need a crew."

Deacon thought back on a time when the union was coming after Big Ted. Him and his strong crew were able to hold off an entire Union battalion that came after him. They escaped with no casualties and dealt the Union a devastating loss.

"Wow!" A ten year old Deacon would tell Big Ted. "You are amazing."

Big Ted would just smile and pat Deacon on the head. "An outlaw is only as good as his crew." He'd say as he looked at his crew who were messing around. "If it weren't for them, I'd probably be dead ten time over."

"Twenty." Sage-Jake corrected. He was their official doctor.

Ted Just laughed. "if you’re gonna be an outlaw, you can't do it alone. Eventually being alone will be your downfall."

Those words rung true. Even now. Deacon new he was going to need a crew. Maybe he could join one. He knows a popular saloon over in a nearby city called Headstone. Maybe that’s a good place to start. So he packed some fresh salt beef and headed to Headstone.

When he got there, the first thing he noticed was the many Union soldiers that were stationed. He kept his head down and trotted slowly through the crowd. Hoping he could keep a low profile. When he got to the saloon, he noticed that there was a bunch of questionable looking folks. Probably trying to stay composed and civilized because of the union troops.

Deacon didn’t know how to ask to join a crew. He learned a lot from ted, but by the time they have met, Ted already had an established crew. Deacon had no clue how to approach this. So he just walked up to the nastiest group of people. They were playing cards and smoking and drinking and laughed with each other.

"Howdy." Deacon started. "Looking for one more person in this-here group?"

The guys just looked at him for a second. This clean shaven young man. Relatively cleaner clothes than them. Not a cigarette in his mouth and a bit squeaky voiced. After a few seconds of awkward silence, they all just burst out in laughter.

"Could you believe this guy? Ahahahaha!"

"Sure there partner. Why don't you take a seat and join us? Wheeze."

Soon the entire saloon was laughing at him.

Deacon just walked away from them and sat at the bar. The guy next to him having a coughing fit from laughing while drinking.

"What'll it be-hehehehe?" The barkeep said while wiping a tear from his eye.

"Hardest thing you got."

The barkeep poured him a glass and Deacon gulped it down fast. "I've made such a fool of myself." He thought.

Soon after, two union soldiers walked in. The saloon went from rowdy to quiet in a split second. They walked all the way up to the bar and sat right next to Deacon. Deacon pulled his hat down a little further and was silent. He kept a calm demeanor but he was freaking out on the inside.

"So." The barkeep said, breaking the silence. "I heard y'all got a prisoner with yah."

"Yep." One of them answered. "An ex Buffalo soldier. The Ruff-head was caught selling some guns to some enemy Injin' tribes."

"Dumb ruff-head." The barkeep said. "They cry for equality and then when we give em' something, they turn around and do this. Shoulda stood in the fields where he belongs if you ask me."

"Yeah. This guy earned a little reputation for 'imself before all this. Was a decent marksman."

"Decent in ruff-head standards?" The barkeep asked.

"No. Decent in our standards. Probably the best shot I've ever seen. 'tsa shame really."

The barkeep shook his head. "The last thing we need is a Ruff-head that could shoot. What if he turned around and used that eye of his against the union?"

A light bulb just went off in Deacon's head.
"Yeah I guess you’re right." The soldier answered. He took one last sip and tipped the barkeep a quarter. He then walked off.

Deacon signaled the barkeep for one last drink. He sipped it and then tipped a quarter and followed the soldiers.

Over on the highest hill of the city was a dark skinned man. He was hand-tied to a pole. Stripped of everything but his pants. He had a bloody face from being beaten.

"I guess I can't blame anyone but myself." he said to himself. "Not bigotry, not inequality, just me and my dumbass for getting caught."

He knew that soon a bunch of soldiers were going to come out, aim their guns, and open fire. Leaving him nothing but a carcass for the birds.

"Psst. Hey ruff-head." someone whispered. Interrupting his thoughts.

The man looked around to see who was calling him. He saw deacon behind the fence.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"I'm the guy that’s gonna bust you out rough-head."

The man just rolled his eye that wasn’t swollen. Why would this guy, who’s clearly a bigot, talk about freeing him. He must be playing a joke.

"Why would you help me?" He asked.

"Cuz I hear you're a good sniper." Deacon said with a smile on his face. "I want you to join my crew."

"Well, I'm very flattered." The man said sarcastically. "But just how are you planning on getting past that barbed wire fence?"

"Pfft. I'm a cowboy. This stuff is hardly knew." Deacon said. He then pulled out some pliars and carefull cut his way through the fence. He then pulled out a knife and cut the man free.

"This guy is actually gonna try to rescue me?" The man thought. But his celebration would be brief. The union soldier were now about to come out to execute him.

"Listen." the man said. I'll stay here and try to shit talk them to buy you some time. I need you to go inside their tents and get my rifle."

"I can get you a new rifle." Deacon said, confused.

"No. I need that one." The man pleaded.

Deacon ran off and the man pretended that his hands were still tied.

6 union soldiers lined up in front of him and aimed their rifles. And the general walked out.

"General B. Moss. It's been a while." The man

"Quiet Douglas." General moss snapped, and he began reading the official execution speech.

"Terrence Douglass. You have been found guilty of-"

"Being black?" Terry interrupted.

General Moss stopped and gave him an angry look. "No. For treason. selling union issued weapons to our enemies."

"You mean those rusted ass riles and revolvers that couldn't hit the broad side of a barn that was given specifically to us colored folks? Excuse me for trying to give them a means of defending themselves against extinction."

"Don't give me that Bullshit lecture. You only care about making a quick buck. Always have and always will."

"Yeah, you're right." Terry said. "I'm lucky I got my hands on a Goldwood Rifle. Been using that ever since. "

The general looked confused. How did he get his hands on a weapon only the highest ranking generals could get. "that’s one of your lies, ain't it? That rust stick you carry around ain't no Goldwood rifle.

"No. Of course not." Terry said in an unconvincing voice. He was telling the truth this time. He just knew if he kept them guessing, he could buy more time.

"You remember the great General Bragg. He was a known bigot. So let just say he got a visit from a few buffalos during his sleep."

General Moss knows about Bragg's assassination. But they never caught the culprits. They also never found his
Goldwood rifle.

Terry just smiled. "I had to get rid of the ornaments and make it ugly, or you guys would have caught me sooner."

Back at the union tents, Deacon was looking for Terry's rifle. He found a rusty one. "Why would he care about this rusty mess?" Deacon thought, then he heard the General shouting outside. "Crap. They are about to start."

"You confessing to killing one of the highest ranking officers in the Union?!" General Moss asked.

"Well I'm already gonna die. I might as well confess all my sins."

"I've had enough of this Ruff-neck. Kill him!"

The soldiers all fixed their aim on Terry. "Where is that guy?' Terry thought. When he saw they were about to shoot, he jumped to the ground and covered his head with this hands.


The sound of all the soldiers firing simultaneously was deafening. By the time the sound subsided, he realized that he wasn’t dead. He looked up at the soldiers and the general. The soldiers were on the ground, lifeless. The general's jaw was on his feet. Terry looked down on the ground in front of him. There were six bullets on the ground each had been pierced by another bullet. Terry was amazed by this. He looked to his left and saw Deacon. Terry's rifle was on his back and he had to revolvers drawn. Smoke was lifting from the barrels.

"Just in time." Deacon said with a smile on his face.
Last edited:

Book Cook

Senior Member
I haven't read it yet--no time now--but caught this at the beginning.

"I did it." Deacon thought to himself.

Cut the bold part. It is superfluous and it tells us nothing. Be vary of things like that. He can't think to anyone else but himself, so you don't have to point it out.



Senior Member
I haven't read it yet--no time now--but caught this at the beginning.

Cut the bold part. It is superfluous and it tells us nothing. Be vary of things like that. He can't think to anyone else but himself, so you don't have to point it out.

I'm on mobile but I don't see that at all