Third Wheel by Olivia Hudak

Third Wheel by Olivia Hudak

On this kind of night, at this time of sundown, the streets of the old frontier town were empty. But inside the bar, whiskey was poured, the piano played jauntily, and the frilly barmaids’ skirts twirled and stole men’s gazes.

Barton and Caroline sat in a far corner of the bar with an eye on the door. Caroline sipped at her second whiskey, which Barton thought was a bad idea given who they were here to see. Her mind was supposed to be clear. Not that she ever made any sense to him anyway.  

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face,” Caroline said, tapping her fingers impatiently on the table. “He thought he could run and hide, but he’s not getting away from me, no siree.” She took a swig of her drink in a rather unladylike fashion.

Barton considered her phrasing was wrong; it should’ve been “getting away from us,” and not only her. The three of them had been partners long before Caroline and Andy became a pair, but Barton didn’t bother correcting her.

“Can you believe him?” Caroline continued the rant Barton had heard much of in the last month. “Disregarding my help and everything. The gall of that man. Thought he could just run off with all three shares of that cash and leave me behind. Boy, when I see him again –”

Eyes glanced at them with the mention of cash. Barton had already told her to keep her voice down once, accomplishing nothing. Telling her again would be useless. Instead, he kept his eyes sharp and his hand on his pistol.

A familiar silhouette walked by outside the window. Barton sat up straighter and tensed, ready for a chase if need be. “He’s here.”

Caroline finally stopped talking. She took ahold of the low neckline of her dress to adjust her cleavage.

Andy walked into the bar through the double saloon doors. He looked roughly the same as he had when they’d seen him last, just cleaner; tidy black V-neck shirt and hat the color of the rust-red earth. He’d lost his beard but kept his mustache and cocked-shoulder countenance. When he caught sight of his former partners in the corner, he froze.

Barton had found Andy smart back when they’d first met; Andy was usually the brains behind all their schemes and robberies. But when it came to Caroline, the man was dumb as a rock. He should’ve turned right back around as soon as he saw them, but instead, he quickly recollected himself and sauntered over, just as Barton knew he would.

“Well, look who blew in with the dust,” Andy said, gripping the back of a chair and swiftly turning it, sitting straddle like it was a horse. “Come to beg me to have you back?”

“You couldn’t have me back if you wanted!” Caroline said too loudly. “Bart and I are in love now!” She grasped Barton’s arm and leaned on him heavily.

Andy raised his eyebrows and looked to Barton for confirmation, but the latter shook his head somberly. If Caroline wanted them to play a fake pair, she should’ve asked him earlier. That was not the plan.

Barton nudged Caroline. “We’re here ‘cause she does want you.”

Caroline sat up, remembering her role to play. “I do, honey-whiskers,” she pouted, her big hazel eyes locked on Andy. “I miss you.”

Andy smiled, though there was no humor in it. “Bullshit, Caroline.” He leaned forward. “The only reason you’re here is ‘cause I got the cash!”

That was incorrect. That was the reason Barton was here. He felt the eyes of the folks nearby shift towards them yet again at the mention of cash. In a low voice, he said, “How ‘bout we take this outside?”

& & &

The sun was just below the horizon, the faintest streak of orange still visible before the sky faded to grey-blue. A few stars began to twinkle overhead. Barton appreciated the coolness of the air at night; no more acrid, dry heat, no more sun beating on his shoulders. In the cold blue of desert nights, he could sometimes imagine he was home by the sea.

His peaceful evening was marred by the arguing voices of Andy and Caroline. They walked several paces ahead of him, disagreeing about every moment they had possibly made together in the two years they’d known each other. The small town was behind them, close enough to see the lights, far enough no one could hear.

Barton considered how he’d been down on his luck when he’d first come out here. He’d rushed west just after his mama died, disillusioned with thoughts of gold and getting rich. In a short time, he’d found there wasn’t enough gold to go around and getting rich like that wasn’t going to work. That’s when Andy found him; Andy, full of big, terrible ideas that could make them rich beyond their wildest dreams. Shortly after, Caroline joined the mix, and together, they had goals, a purpose, something to strive for. Dreams, like what Barton had first come out here for, back before the dirt and grit got so far underneath his nails he could never dig it out.

The trio and their plans had worked well, at least for a while. Andy’s plans were sometimes small, like stealing from funeral homes, and sometimes big, like stealing cargo off a moving train. Sometimes they’d employed a few other outlaws to help them out, but most often, it was just the three of them.

Things had changed when Caroline and Andy decided they were in “love,” although Barton wasn’t sure knocking around in a wagon while he tried to sleep on the ground not far enough away was “love.” He’d spent those nights trying to tune out the noise, staring up at the endless stars, his only light the fading glow of the campfire embers. He hated when Caroline and Andy were like that. It made him feel lonely, which made him feel weak, which made him angry. His father had worked hard to beat the weakness out of him. Barton didn’t like the reminder that it remained.

The pair was still arguing. Barton had had enough. “What’d you do with the money, Andy?”

Andy paused his argument and turned to Barton. Caroline crossed her arms, staring at Andy.

“That money was supposed to be split three ways.” Barton continued, taking a step forward. “All I want is my share.”

Andy’s usual cocky expression wavered. “Don’t you worry about it,” he said cheerfully. “It’s somewhere safe. I’ll get it to you tomorrow!”

In a swift moment, Barton pulled out his gun and aimed it at Andy. “I want it now.”

Andy put both hands up. “If you kill me, you’ll never know where the money is,” he said, voice level.

Barton shrugged. “That’s true,” he said, and aimed the gun at Caroline.

She gasped. “Bart, this wasn’t the plan!”

“Not your plan,” Barton said.

“What would you even do with all that cash anyway?” Andy asked.

There wasn’t a whole lot Barton could do with his portion of the money. But with all of the money, he could go back out east, put some flowers on his mother’s grave and connect his fist with his father’s face, if the old man was still living. He could stand in the Atlantic again, let the waves wash all this dust away. He could practically smell the saltwater now. But Andy didn’t need to know all that. “Doesn’t matter. A portion of it is rightfully mine.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken the money and left. What’s left of it is in the bank here. It’s under my name. This is the slip they gave me.” Andy pulled an envelope out of his shirt pocket. Barton could barely make out the stamped-on name and logo of a local bank he and Caroline had walked by earlier. “Happy?”

“Yes,” Barton said, and fired two shots.

Both bodies hit the ground, Andy first, then Caroline, right on top. One could almost imagine they were napping in each other’s arms before the blood pooled around their heads.

Something stabbed in Barton’s heart, the permanence of what he’d done. He expected his anger to surge up and take over the hollow, empty feeling in his chest, but it didn’t come. Instead, he watched as the blood soaked into the cracked ground, darkening as it mixed with the dirt.

He took off his hat and held it over his heart. He didn’t know if there was a god or a heaven above, but he offered a moment of silence, just in case. Then, he bent over and tugged Andy’s paper slip out of his pocket.

The next day, he used it to get the money out of the bank and got on the next train headed east.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Olivia Hudak 2024