It’s hard to imagine why anyone would go out west to hide.
Bandits, murderers, and criminals of all kinds have been trying it for decades. But no matter how far they roam, sooner or later most of them get caught.
The problem is many criminals share the same flaw, being incapable of laying low.
They get twitchy. Overeager for that next job – that next big score.
Men who commit crimes, and who succeed at getting away with them, already have an inflated sense of ego, so they tend to figure they could pull it off again.
When compared with glory and riches, the prospect of staying holed up at a remote cabin in some god forsaken backwater town simply lacks all appeal.
Outlaws can’t help themselves - how quickly idle time will transform those types into hopping frogs when it’s best if they remain a submerged pollywog.
Anxiousness aside, it’s difficult for most people to realize how spacious the western lands are. So much of the world there is just open emptiness, which makes anyone and everyone traveling through it more visible to the many eyes of the plains and prairies.
Each passing year more and more sets of watchful eyes start trekking westward and those watchful eyes are attached to nervous brains which in turn operate talkative mouths.
A fugitive who rides out for supplies at the wrong hour, gets spotted.
A fire is carelessly built too far up in the rocks, the smoke drifts too high, and it gets you spotted.
Underestimating the number of eyes in the west means any minor slip in planning has the potential to reveal even the best hideout for what it is.
And you can’t forget the many eyes that have already been out here.
The Sioux, Comanche, and the Crow.
Those who still come and go as they will, even as newcomers pass them by or push them out.
Those native folks have already had more than enough trouble on their lands and don’t take kindly to thieves and killers hiding in their midst, drawing undue attention.
Rake Harlow didn’t much care about drawing attention to himself.
Rake was out here for his own reasons.
Sure, maybe Rake had been a criminal for a spell, but that life had brought him too damned close to death more than once and he’d gotten tired of constantly looking over his shoulder.
Rake realized that he wanted more than money, chaos, and bloodshed out of life. Rake wanted stability and to be able to say that he had created something during his time.
That’s why he came to Derleth Gulch, probably the most desolate town in the Wyoming Territories, to purchase the deed for a saloon.
Nobody had asked where Rake got that much money. Nobody much cared.
It was a fairly large saloon considering its remote location. Derleth Gulch was lucky to be found on any map and travelers were lucky if they managed to ride past the place without having to stop there.
But Derleth Gulch had a decent stock of hard working folks that were earning their keep as best they could and were able to take some solace in the local watering hole.
When word got around that Rake Harlow had bought the Saloon the locals were relieved to know that the place would continue to operate. If you had to live every day in Derleth Gulch it helped to have somewhere to get drunk.
All of that had taken place a few years back.
Rake Harlow became known for running a clean place and for being eager to do whatever he could to take the edge off of the rough frontier lifestyle. And because Rake had escaped a life of crime and a premature death, he also came to be known as someone willing to give others a second chance.
More than a few people in town had been able to leave behind a less than reputable lifestyle with the help of Rake Harlow.
On the afternoon of August 23rd, 1882 the saloon was fairly quiet.
It was after 3 0’clock, with only a handful of patrons scattered around the tables. All of the customers were familiar, most of them regulars, with a few notable faces among the crowd.
“Beth can you wake up those two by the door and send them on their way?” Rake asked one of the barmaids. Beth Bailey had worked at the saloon since Rake had taken over, she was young but knew how to handle herself around a roomful of drunk sharecroppers. She was boisterous and prone to loud bursts of laughter.
Beth strode over to the table Rake had mentioned and jostled it with a bump of her hip.
The two townies had clearly had too much but got to their feet and stumbled out the door with no more than a few grumbles. Without hesitation Beth picked up the dark bottle of whiskey the men had left behind and was pleased to see there was some left. Tipping it back Beth emptied it with two deep gulps.
One of the other patrons looked at her sidelong.
“One of the perks of the job darling!” Beth told him with a giggle.
Ol’ Stimey Cosgrove leaned back in a corner seat with his boots on the edge of the table and his back against the wall. Stimey was the town’s most senior deputy and coincidentally the town’s most drunk deputy. If Stimey Cosgrove wasn’t on his way somewhere to get a swallow of booze, he was sitting somewhere with a swallow of booze in front of him.
When it came to his deputy work, ol’ Stimey always made sure to look the part. His pair of holsters were snug against his narrow thighs and his revolvers were always brightly polished.
“Anything else I can do for you deputy Cosgrove?” Another of the barmaids asked as she cleaned the neighboring table.
“Nothing else for me my dear!” Stimey replied. “A lawman never knows when he might be called to action!” He added with a sincere nod.
The barmaid smiled, almost laughing, but restrained herself.
Her name was Ethelinda Stapleton – slightly older than Beth, she had a dark complexion and many in town believed Ethelinda was descended from gypsy blood.
“Well if you do find any action of particular note Stimey, make sure to let me know!” Ethelinda told the deputy. “I could use some action myself!” She chuckled as she walked back behind the bar.
Young Mr. Feng sat alone at the bar quietly drinking gin.
Feng was a Chinese fella who had been part of the railroad crew that came through Derleth Gulch a few months back. He’d found himself in a spot of trouble however with some of the loudmouths he worked with and so Rake Harlow had given him one of the rooms upstairs and paid Feng to help with odds and ends around the saloon until he could save up enough to head east to New York or Boston.
A handful of other patrons strolled in as the late afternoon rolled on.
However when the sound of fast paced hooves thundered down the main drag of Derleth Gulch the quiet of the saloon and the peace of the town went straight to hell.
A group of riders were quickly approaching, the sound was like a stampede which immediately gripped the attention of everyone in the saloon.
Rake Harlow got a knot in his stomach which got tighter when he heard gun fire accompanying the oncoming riders.
Their approach was swift and their arrival sudden. There were several more shots outside and then silence. That’s when the Abbot brothers kicked in the door of the saloon, guns in hand.
From behind the bar Rake watched them enter. He vaguely knew of Quint and Jacob Abbot from a brief period he had as a cattle rustler. The Abbots were hired guns at best, madmen at worst.
“Everybody stay in your seats and shut the fuck up!” Quint Abbot bellowed, waving his guns through the air.
“Your sheriff is dead, we got the marshals on our tails, and this is where we’re planning on holing up!” Jacob Abbot added.
Stimey Cosgrove leaped to his feet, swaying slightly in his inebriated state, and placed his hands on the grips of the guns on either side of him.
“Now you just wait one dulgarned minute!” Stimey said. “Who the hell do you think you are to just storm in here guns blazing?!”
A shot rang out hitting ol’ Stimey right in the neck.
Rake winced as he watched. That was a terrible way to go, even for an old drunken blowhard like Stimey Cosgrove.
Stimey slumped to the floor gurgling and bleeding out across the hardwood.
But the shot hadn’t come from either of the Abbot brothers.
Stepping in behind the Abbots was a tall stern faced man who made Rake’s blood run cold – Arthur “Zoetrope” Snider. Known as one of the fastest guns in the territory, it was said he moved with a strange speed - so fast that only the devil himself could truly see it.
Zoetrope Snider strode in with his rifle smoldering, still aiming it at the spot where Stimey had been standing.
Snider stood between the Abbot boys and glared around at the silence of the saloon.
Uneasily standing behind the bar, Rake Harlow eased up to the edge in order to reach the shelf underneath. He put his hand on the gun he kept stashed there.
I’m good with a gun. Rake thought to himself. But I don’t know if even I’ve got what it takes to take on Zoetrope Snider!
Another member of their gang pushed their way through the door. He was a big hulking fella with a rumpled hat and a pair of sawed off shotguns hanging in his grip on either side. Rake didn’t know this big guy but wasn’t eager to find out.
From outside a voice called into the saloon.
“You heard these gentlemen!” The voice said. “And you folks can clearly see we aren’t fucking around! So if you all work with us, a few of you might live to tell this story to your grandkids!”
The outlaws stepped aside as the owner of the voice joined them in the saloon.
Rake Harlow’s pulse quickened, his knees went weak.
The leader of this gang was a woman, but not just any woman – Edith Darce.
Edie, as Rake knew her, was one of the most wanted outlaws in the west. She was involved in schemes, crimes, and heists from the Mississippi to Colorado. Edie was always on the lookout for any underhanded way to keep herself funded and free for another day.
And it just so happened that Edie Darce was the reason Rake Harlow left his own life of crime and came all the way out to Derleth Gulch.
Edie and Rake had spent two years robbing and screwing their way across the country and it had been great.
Until it wasn’t.
She stole my heart. Rake thought to himself. And I stole her horse.
He just never knew how to tell her how tired he was of living on the run. He couldn’t say how much he just wanted to settle down and make something of himself. Instead of telling her how he felt he nabbed her favorite horse, got out of town, and took off. And he kept riding until he was far enough away from the lure of her enchanting and destructive beauty.
I guess I should have run just a bit farther. Rake told himself.
Edie was now standing at the center of the outlaws. She had her hands on her hips in such a way that the stance was both a statement and a threat.
“Now there are two ways we can go about doing this folks.” Edie called out to the patrons of the saloon. “We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way.”
She slowly swung her gaze around the room until she locked eyes with Rake standing there behind the bar.
Her expression quickly shifted from smug assurance to icy determination.
“But unfortunately for you all, the easy way just went out the window.” She announced to the patrons as she stared down Rake.
Looks like she hasn’t forgiven me. Rake thought to himself.
With a blur of motion and instinct Rake pulled his gun from beneath the bar and put two shots into the big bastard holding the shotguns, laying him out on his back. In the same motion Rake dove behind the bar just as a shot from Edie splintered the wood where he’d been standing.
In that instant it seemed like the entire place erupted in smoke and gunfire.
Feng leaped from his stool at the bar and dove for the body of Stimey Cosgrove, grabbing up the fallen pistols there. Knocking over the table Feng began firing at the intruders.
With a scream Quint Abbot took a bullet in the chest from one of Feng’s shots and stumbled backwards through one of the saloon’s windows.
As Feng popped up to take a few more shots he was quickly taken out by Zoetrope’s rifle.
A couple of the local men who’d been sitting in the corner drew their guns and took some pot shots at Jacob Abbot. He was quick though and shot both men with a swift pivot and a swifter trigger finger.
Hiding at the end of the bar Ethelinda reached around and grabbed a knife from one of the shelves there. Jumping to her feet she hurled the blade with a practiced fluid motion and caught Jacob Abbot in the back, landing the knife deeply between his ribs.
The stubborn bastard refused to die however. He began firing randomly into the saloon, shooting anything that moved. With one wild shot he downed one of the patrons who clearly had not been expecting Jacob’s continued survival.
Rake Harlow crawled behind the bar, making his way to the other end where he stood up and fired a few more rounds in the direction of the outlaws.
Edie dove behind an overturned table with a grunt. Zoetrope Snider spun on his heel and raised his sites at Rake, hammering off two quick shots.
One of the bullets lodged itself in Rake’s shoulder as he ducked back behind the bar.
With a savage scream Beth Bailey pushed herself off from against the far wall of the saloon and ran toward Snider.
Beth reached beneath her skirts and produced a small derringer which she kept in her garter. She fired off the gun’s two rounds as she charged toward the rifleman. The first shot flew into his upper thigh with the second shot going wide into the floorboards.
Zoetrope turned his rifle on her and Beth dove behind a stack of chairs, scooping up a fallen revolver from the floor there.
With Zoetrope distracted Rake dashed from behind the bar to get a better shot. Running while crouched Rake made his way to a nearby table, rolling underneath.
From the corner of his eye he saw someone else had the same idea. Tumbling beneath the table he took a brief moment to catch his breath. He realized he was back to back with the other person who had rolled under there with him.
Twisting to look over his shoulder he realized with a gasp who it was.
It was Edie Darce. And he saw that she was as shocked as he was.
The two of them locked eyes as gunshots and shouting exploded all around. They looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity and their entire history played out there between that shared gaze.
Without prompting or explanation Rake and Edie leaned in toward one another and shared a deep, passionate kiss underneath that saloon table.
The moment was broken however when Rake felt a gun barrel jammed into his ribcage. As his eyes popped open Edie gave him a knowing shrug.
Grabbing her wrist and pushing it away Rake quickly slammed his forehead into her face as he scrambled to get out from under the table.
Edie did the same, tumbling out on the opposite side. Each had their guns pointed at the other.
Just then more shots rang out, this time coming in through the front door of the saloon.
Two law men in long dusters accompanied the shots. Seeing the chaos within the saloon, the law men wasted no time opening fire. One of the marshals shot at the rifle wielding Zoetrope Snider and the other in the direction of Edie and Rake.
Neither of the tin horns seemed too concerned with which folks were the local bystander and which were the outlaws. They only knew there were a lot of guns and a lot of trouble and it needed to be stopped.
Without hesitation Edie turned and fired back at the marshals before dashing toward a nearby window and expertly diving through the glass to the porch outside, barely hindering her stride.
Relieved and panicked Rake ran for the back door of the saloon.
As he made his way out of the saloon he could hear the marshals barking orders between firing shots. Without much of a plan Rake headed around the corner toward the alleyway which separated the saloon from the next building.
He was stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Edie rounding the opposite corner at the other end of the alley and headed his way.
Edie halted her sprint and instantly had her gun in hand.
To his surprise Rake realized he’d already drawn his revolver and had it aimed at her.
The passionate kiss they’d shared beneath that table was still fresh on their lips as they stood there staring each another down with a mix of rage and despair.
A shot echoed across the alleyway.
Rake immediately stumbled forward and fell to his knees. His shirt already dark with blood, a gut shot. Rake knew then he was a goner.
Edie looked down at herself in shock. The front of her vest was also smeared with blood, and there was a hole there just below her heart. She couldn’t breathe but looked back up at Rake and managed to cough out:
“God damn you!”
Rake briefly got to his feet, taking a few shuffling steps before falling back to his knees.
Edie lunged forward with an awkward, jolting gait before collapsing down in front of Rake.
They faced one another for a moment there on the dusty ground until finally they each lifted their hands away from their mortal wounds and wrapped their arms around one another.
And that’s how they found them. Dead - in that narrow alley - slumped forward in a macabre embrace.
They buried the two of them together in the Derleth Gulch cemetery. But seeing as how the event became known as the worst local tragedy of the age they decided not to put their names on the tombstone.
Instead the grave was simply inscribed with the words: Love Is A Many Ruinous Thing