End of the Line

By Buckskin

The Betrayal Challenge

No beta. All mistakes are mine

 

He figured it would happen; however, he hadn’t counted on it being this soon, but what the hell, now or later, the end would be the same. And he knew how this final chapter in the life of Johnny Madrid would conclude; he’d been expecting it for a while and, at times, had prayed for it, only not like this. But he would play the hand dealt to him, look the Rurales in their eyes, and smile as they pulled the triggers. They hated it when he smiled.

His only regret was failing to finish the one thing he swore he’d do… put a bullet in the old man’s brain. Maybe if he couldn’t send Lancer to Hell with that bullet, now that he was looking death square in the face, he gave serious thought to haunting the man for the rest of his natural life. That might work… Better’n nothin’.

Johnny remembered standing in the Captain’s office that first night after his capture, hands tied tightly behind his back as the guards manhandled him in front of the ornate desk where Santos sat, smug and sure that he was safe in the presence of the enemy Madrid. Then Johnny allowed that infuriating grin to slide across his mouth. Oh, he would pay for it, he was certain. But it was worth every minute to endure their punishment to see the fear in the Captain’s eyes when he failed to hide it. Johnny could smell that fear, and it gave him the strength not only to survive the beating he was sure to bear but to provoke the Captain, raise his ire and allow his faults to be known, exposing his thoughts, his vexation… his weakness. Maybe it would give the coward something to worry about. Johnny knew his fate; why not piss off Santos in the meantime?

His end was a sure thing, written in stone the second he picked up a gun, but if it were his time to meet his maker, he would make the most of the situation.

Beaten and starved, the outlaw didn’t pose much of a threat when he was dragged to stand before the officer… until that insolent smile cut through Santos’ false sense of security. Furious, he shot to his feet and strode around the desk, desperate to bring this man, this demon, to heel! He will know his place when I get through with his miserable life!  

Leather gloves slapped against the Captan’s open palm and echoed off the stark adobe walls of the room. The attempt to strike fear into the bastardo’s heart wasn’t working, and Santos felt his rage grow; his edge dulled… and the grin widened.

Santos glared into the blue eyes, not liking what he saw. “You think this is amusing? Are you aware of how we apprehended your worthless hide?”

Johnny had wondered how they knew where to find him but wouldn’t give the Captain the satisfaction of asking… or appearing to care. He stayed with the grin; why abandon what worked?

The Captain launched the next salvo. “You, Señor Madrid, were betrayed, and one of your precious peons told us what we wanted to know. How does that make you feel, knowing the people you were leading, trying to protect, were working to help us?” Santos thought the revelation would render Madrid a crushing blow, but the smile never wavered. And fire exploded through him at the perverse response.

“What’d ya do, threaten some poor farmer you’d take his five-year-old daughter ta warm your bed if he didn’t do what ya wanted?”

A savage double punch to Madrid’s belly left him hanging between the guards, panting to catch his breath, but when he lifted his head to face the Captain, that damnable smile was still in place, mocking and daring Santos, pushing him toward the edge.

“Take him! Chain him to the wall and teach this perro manners! He will submit and know who is in charge!”

Betrayal — it was an ugly thought that he’d been brayed after all he’d given to these people, for these people, but they were desperate; they had nothing, yet the Rurales continued to take from them. The corrupt Captain Santos, unscrupulous and evil at best, backed them into a corner using despicable means to control them and get what he wanted. Johnny did not doubt that the knowledge of his whereabouts was gained at the expense of an innocent man doing his best to protect his family.

This was a betrayal he understood and could accept. But it wouldn’t end with his death. The Rurales would not relent; with him out of the way, they would continue their rape of the land and people, and Madrid would die for nothing.

The sun blazed brightly in the clear sky, blanketing the land and those on the hillside in warmth. It was a good day to die.

Enrique stood, blindfolded, and as he heard the order to fire, he screamed ‘Viva la revo…” and the words died in his throat as his lifeless body fell in a heap to the ground. Johnny honored the pledge and finished what the dead man could not. “…lución…”

And now it was his turn to die.

Leaning forward, he let the sombrero fall in the grass, then stood calmly and refused the blindfold… then let his smile burn into the eyes of his murderers and sear their brains; they would carry that vision with them for the rest of their lives.

 

 

January 2023