Chapter Eighteen

To Evans, it seemed as if hours had passed as Buck and Melody had stood staring at one another. The town was silent except for the howling of the wind; a playful zephyr teased a tumbleweed across the road, mostly to spite Buck. At last, Melody spoke.

"Been waiting a long time for this," she stated flatly.

Buck sniffed, not letting his guard down.

"Yeah, about that," he grunted. "Like to tell me what all this is about?"

Melody snorted derisively.

"You care?" she spat.

Buck contemplated this momentarily, his eyes still glued to hers.

"Not especially," he admitted. "But you'd like to tell me anyway, wouldn't you?"

Melody gave a dismissive shrug, but the tone of her reply confirmed Buck's suspicions.

"I don't suppose that you remember much of June of 1870?" she called.

"Not really," conceded Buck.

Melody chuckled sourly.

"Doesn't surprise me," she murmured. "You spent most of the summer working for a railroad tycoon, scaring farmers off their land. Ring any bells?"

Buck shrugged noncommittally, and Melody pressed on.

"One of those farmers was a man named George Chamberlain," she continued. "You paid him a visit on the seventh of June. Told him things would get ugly if he didn't clear out."

Buck shrugged again.

"And?" he demanded.

"And things got ugly," she hissed. "You killed him. Gunned him down right in front of his seven-year-old daughter."

Buck slumped slightly, to Melody's great surprise.

"Oh," he muttered.

Melody's eyes widened, and then a savage grin spread across her face.

"So you do remember," she cooed.

Evans' eyes boggled.

"You did what?" he screeched.

Melody risked taking her eyes off of Buck's just long enough to shoot a glare in Evans' direction.

"You stay out of this," she hissed.

Evans gaped at Buck, his mouth working soundlessly. During the brief moment when Melody's eyes were averted, Evans could swear that he'd seen a flicker of something - possibly sorrow - sneaking its way across the gunman's visage. By the time Melody had turned her attention back to him, Buck's face had contorted into a vicious sneer.

"Gonna be straight with you," Buck growled. "A man like me - using a gun's the only thing he's good at. You're good at something, there's gonna be people such as want to pay you to do it. Guess that makes me a killer; got no illusions about that, and I don't make no apologies for it."

Buck sniffed, and then continued in what might have been a placating tone.

"That don't make me responsible for what happened to your pa," he murmured. "Me, I just pull the trigger; if I hadn't taken the job, somebody else would've, and your pappy'd be dead just the same. Now, the guy willing to pay to have another man killed - that's the real bad guy, if you ask me. You got a problem with what happened, maybe you oughta take it up with him."

Melody scoffed.

"Oh, I have," she snarled, her voice dripping with venom. "I took it up with his friends, his family, everyone who ever so much as shook his hand. Then I took it up with him."

She grinned again, with shocking intensity.

"Been saving you for last," she finished.

A dreadful silence once again settled between the two. This time it was Buck who broke it.

"This might surprise you," he snarled, "but you're not the first person that ever came after me looking for revenge. Gonna tell you the same thing I tell 'em all."

Buck sniffed contemptuously, and then continued.

"If you're looking for an apology, then sister, you're in for a big disappointment. I knew what it was gonna mean when I chose this life, and I'd be lying if I told you I was sorry. But if it makes it any better... well, you should know it was nothing personal."

Melody stared for a moment, and then gave a short, derisive laugh.

"That's supposed to make it better?" she demanded. "You killed my father in cold blood; just a business transaction, right?"

Melody shook her head.

"I used to hate you for that," she grunted. "The fact that killing him didn't even mean anything to you."

Buck's glare wavered slightly.

"Used to, did you?" he ventured.

Melody chuckled again.

"Don't get me wrong," she sneered. "You're not exactly my favorite person. It's just that... well. To tell you the truth, you're just so damn pathetic that hating you seems like a waste of time. No, I pity you."

If Melody felt anything resembling pity, it was nowhere to be found in her expression; her eyes burned into Buck's, shaming him despite himself.

"I used to think this was about setting things right," she laughed. "Can you imagine? As if your life could ever be worth half of what my father's was."

Melody's eyes clouded slightly, and her voice grew distant.

"I'm like you, Polk Buckhorn; got you to thank for that. Just like you, I got no illusions. The world ain't fair, and killing you won't make it so."

She seemed to collect her thoughts in an instant, and her eyes hardened once again.

"Killing you won't bring him back; I know that. Nope, I buried my pa a long time ago. I'm just looking for a little bit of closure; just tying up a loose end."

Her smile had returned, again with a little too much exposed tooth.

"I will admit to a little bit of conceit," she chuckled. "I'd like to think that the world will be a better place without you in it, if only by a little bit."

Buck's face, which had grown increasingly rigid throughout the last few moments, now seemed to be made of stone. His hand rested on the butt of his revolver with a deceptively casual indifference.

"You about done?" growled Buck.

"Not quite," Melody grinned.

Two guns flew from their holsters. Only one shot was fired.