"Hey, Yeriel!" John called out, his voice cutting through the air as Yeriel leaned against a weathered post, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was watching Tilly as she bent over to scrub clothes, admiring her behind.
"Yeah?" Yeriel turned, raising an eyebrow at the scarred man approaching him.
"Wanna rob a train?" John's eyes sparkled.
Yeriel's interest piqued instantly. "Train robbery?"
"Yeah. I've got a plan." John smirked.
Yeriel burst into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. "You? You planned it?! No way! Not a chance!" He continued to chuckle at him.
John scowled slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching downward. "Come on, brother. It's a solid plan. Look, we'll set an oil wagon on the tracks to force them to stop."
Yeriel paused, mulling over the idea. "That... actually sounds like a good idea." A grin spread across his face, and he playfully punched John's shoulder. "How come you're the one who came up with it?"
"Shut up," John replied, rolling his eyes. "You in or not?"
"Well, who else is involved?" Yeriel asked, his curiosity growing.
"Arthur and Charles," John replied.
"...Alright," Yeriel nodded. "I'm in."
"Great," John said, satisfaction evident in his voice. "We'll leave around dawn, so be ready." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Yeriel to consider their plan.
Later that day, John kicked Yeriel's leg to wake him up. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Yeriel groaned, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "What?"
"Get up. The train's coming in any minute now," John said, urgency in his tone. Yeriel nodded, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
He rose from the ground, checking his volcanic pistol and its ammunition, followed by his pump-action shotgun. John and Yeriel made their way to their horses, the chill in the air biting at their skin. "Where's Arthur?" Yeriel asked as they approached their mounts.
"He's waiting for us," Charles replied, already mounted on his horse, Taima.
"Okay." Yeriel nodded and hopped onto his horse, Carol, offering her an apple as a treat.
With a swift kick, they set off toward the woods where Arthur was waiting. The sun was just starting to rise, casting long shadows on the ground as they rode through the trees. The sound of hooves pounding against the ground echoed. As they reached the destination, they dismounted their horses, tying them to a sturdy tree.
"Alright. We do this as quick as we can," John said, glancing at the oil wagon.
"Sure," Yeriel shrugged, his nerves tingling with anticipation.
"I thought he wasn't coming," Charles said, pointing ahead as a figure emerged through the trees. Yeriel squinted and recognized Sean, who was grinning widely.
"Hey there, Sean," Yeriel tipped his hat in greeting.
"Well, if it isn't the skinny one?" Sean chuckled, his tone teasing.
"What are you doing here?" John asked, irritation creeping into his voice.
"I'm coming too," Sean replied with a defiant grin.
"I said no," John shook his head. "We can't have you and Yeriel on this job."
"What?" Yeriel exclaimed, confusion evident on his face.
"You're always a dumbass when Sean is around," John pointed out, glancing between the two.
"And you're always a dumbass, no matter who's around," Yeriel retorted, smirking.
Charles made a rare, humorous scoff, his usually stoic demeanor cracking for a moment.
"Well, we don't need five men on the job anyway," John said, crossing his arms.
"Let's fight it out then," Sean challenged, getting into a playful stance. But Arthur stepped in, shoving them both toward the wagon.
"Just get on, you pair of fools," Arthur grumbled, rolling his eyes.
Sean laughed and climbed onto the wagon, followed by the others. "Time to earn some money, gentlemen!" Arthur declared, snapping the reins, and they were off.
After a short ride, they arrived at the designated spot. The tension in the air was palpable as everyone, except Arthur, quickly hid behind the trees. Arthur skillfully maneuvered the oil wagon onto the tracks, positioning it just right.
As the train approached, Charles, John, Arthur, and Sean pulled their bandanas up over their faces, concealing their identities. Yeriel, however, didn't have a bandana; instead, he pulled a makeshift mask over his head, crafted from an old, tattered piece of cloth he had scavenged. It smelled faintly of smoke and sweat, but it did the job.
Arthur climbed atop the wagon, surveying the scene with a determined gaze. As the train thundered closer, the sound of its engine echoed, and everyone readied their weapons. Yeriel gripped his pump-action shotgun tightly, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
As the train approached, it suddenly spotted the oil wagon and screeched to a halt, the conductor leaning out, confusion etched on his face.
"Now what's going on?" the conductor called, stepping off the train.
"Nothing good," Charles replied, emerging from behind a tree. In one swift motion, he knocked the man out cold with his sawed-off shotgun.
"Alright. Charles, Yeriel, you two take the first train car," Arthur ordered, his tone commanding.
"Right, right..." Yeriel adjusted his makeshift mask, his heart racing. "Come on, Charles."
They rushed into the first car. "This is a robbery!" Charles announced, his voice booming. "If everyone cooperates, I guarantee you'll live!" He began striding down the aisle, authority emanating from him.
Yeriel unbuckled his shotgun, pulling out a bag instead. He held it out to a terrified man. "Every valuable in the bag!" he demanded. The man stared at Yeriel, frozen in fear. "Hurry up, puto!" But the man remained motionless. Frustrated, Yeriel brandished his volcanic pistol and whipped it across the man's face. "Do you wanna die, cabrón?!"
"Okay! Okay!" the man cried, scrambling to gather his belongings, stuffing bills, a ring, and a pocket watch into the bag.
Yeriel moved on to the next person, thrusting the bag toward a woman. "Apresúrate!" The woman complied without hesitation, emptying her purse into the bag. He then approached a couple seated a few rows back. "Money, vamos," he urged. The man quickly handed over his cash, while Yeriel's eyes landed on the woman's expensive necklace. Without a second thought, he reached over, yanked it off her neck, and tossed it into the bag. The woman gasped, tears welling up in her eyes, but Yeriel was unfazed.
Once they cleared that cart, they moved on to the baggage car, where Arthur and Sean were already rifling through the contents. Suddenly, John burst in. "Shit, lawmen are coming!"
Yeriel peered through a crack in the wall and saw two lawmen approaching.
"Marston, Rios, Smith!" Arthur shouted, rallying the group. "Get ready!" Yeriel ducked low, hiding beneath a window.
"You lot better get off the train now, ya hear?!" One lawman shouted, but they didn't budge. The man scoffed, frustration evident. "We said come out now!"
"There's only two of you, fools!" Arthur yelled back defiantly.
"We ain't got shit to lose!" Yeriel shouted, emboldened by the adrenaline.
"Why don't you two ride away? Then neither of you need to get killed! Goddamn liberties..." Arthur finished, his voice laced with frustration.
Yeriel risked another glance through the crack and noticed more lawmen arriving, the sight making his heart race. "You and your big mouth, Morgan..."
Arthur sighed deeply, glancing at the group with determination. "Let's deal with them."
The air crackled with tension as the shootout erupted. Gunfire rang out as John, Sean, Arthur, Charles, and Yeriel unleashed their weapons on the advancing lawmen. Bullets flew, ricocheting off the metal of the train and the trees nearby. Yeriel took careful aim, firing his shotgun with precision.
As the number of lawmen thinned, they made a break for it, swiftly hopping off the train and onto their horses. The sound of hooves pounding against the ground filled the air as they raced to escape the heat of the law.