I wake up in the morning And I raise my weary head I got an old coat for a pillow And the earth was last nights bed I don’t know where I’m going Only God knows where I’ve been I’m a devil on the run A six gun lover A candle in the wind ~~~~~~~~ “Gee hup!” I urge my horse on across the grass as I glance behind me, in a bid to make sure I’m not being followed. I tighten my grip to stop from falling off as Maverick clears a ditch, landing perfectly, not missing a beat as she kept riding. In the distance behind us I could hear hooves echoing through the trees, they weren’t too close, I could still loose them. Only then I spotted a rider out the corner of my eye. He was being followed, but luckily he was lithe enough so his horse evaded any bullets. There was a clearing up ahead which meant we’d be easy targets. Mave spooks as I spot Webb cutting sharply in front of us, his rider flashing a smirk in my direction as I turn in the other, heading for our rendezvous point. That’s when I heard it. The pained yelp from my friend. I can’t turn about, if I do I’ll get caught. The trees hide me as I approach the camp, slowing down to a trot as I feel myself slide off the horse. “Brian!” It’s Michael as he all but jumps over the fire, wrapping his arms round me as I awkwardly pat his back. Ben nods at me and I glance over at Mel, who’s nose is buried in a book before look back at Ben, trying to peel Mikey off me, “Justin and James back?” My voice conveys my worry as they shake their heads. That’s not good, it means they were probably caught. Hooves alert us, Ben’s on his feet at my side, pistol drawn as Mel looks on with a raised eyebrow, “Calm the hell down boys, it’s only Webb and Fance…” Melanie’s always been good at telling our horses from the sound their hooves make on the ground. Not too far off there’s a loud thump of someone hitting the dirt, “No no no no GOD!” a voice mutters, “Need some help over here!” There’s rustling from the tent and a blur shoots past me, bag clutched in his hand as he runs towards the voices followed closely by Ben and myself. Lying in a heap on the dirt is Justin, hand resting on top of James’ as a rag is pressed to his side. Still clutching the bag, Ted pushes past us all to crouch with the boys, drawing a syringe of morphine before injecting it into Justin. I dry heave as he uses tweezers to pull the bullet out, deciding I would be better cleaning the red stains off Webb’s white coat. Clutching the reins I turn away from the scene, leading the two horses back to where the others are. It’s not long before my wounded friend is lain to rest in the tent, James sitting with him to make sure a fever doesn’t kick in. That’s my gang. Ted Schmitt, our travelling doctor and accountant. He helps look after the money we rob. There’s Ben, me and him go way back. I knew him back home, he’s the guardian of Justin and James. Michael has been my best friend since I was 14. He’s always been there for me. He’s also Ben’s not so secret, secret lover. Melanie’s number one with a bullet and also excellent at cracking codes which helps with safe’s. James is only 18, his mother works in a brothel so he ran away, only to be found by Ben and adopted into his little family. Then, of course, there’s little Justin. I found him wandering the streets, a skinny little runt, beaten almost to death by his father. Turns out he’s an excellent gunner and rider. So I gave him to Ben to be looked after and, much to my approval, he and James became as close as brothers. He’s my little golden boy. And he’s only 16. Then of course, there’s the leader. Me. Brian Kinney. Wanted in three American states. I’m only 23. I robbed my first bank at 17. Disowned by my parents at 19. I’m brought out of my memories by mumbling from the tent. I can barely hear James’ whispering of soothing words to Justin, whimpering coming from the blonde. I hope he’ll be okay. He turns 17 tomorrow. ~~~~~~~~ I’m going down in a blaze of glory Take me now but know the truth I’m going down in a blaze of glory Lord I never drew first But I drew first blood I’m no ones son Call me young gun You ask about my conscience And I offer you my soul You ask if Ill grow to be a wise man Well I ask if Ill grow old ~~~~Bon Jovi - Blaze of Glory~~~~