The Hughes Gang

“I’m tellin’ you lot, this place is gonna be perfect. There’s plenty of game and it’s nice an’ secluded.” Looking upon their assembling base, the cartographer felt sure of her work to state it aloud. Sure, it was open to the sky, but she was certain it would be a safe place for now-- as well a spot worth holding.

“Doesn’t seem secluded enough if you ask me. There’s a ranch just across the valley, and I’d be more than willing to bet there are a couple cabins built in these woods… You sure you know what you’re talking about?” Effie questioned, uncertain about the move as a whole, not to mention the location that had been chosen for them.

“‘Course I do. Listen, we ain’t gonna run into nobody out here but hunters and hermits. And as far as any o’ them need to know, we’re hunters and hermits too. ... I think that suits us just fine anyway. And anyway, if we did run into anyone of ill intent, we’ve got the mountain on our side. This is a good spot. You know, it ain’t good on the skin to be so pessimistic all the time.” Leah reassured in her own sarcastic kind of way, finding time even now to pick on the little gunsmith.

“Alright.” The response came disingenuous. Effie felt no desire to continue on with the conversation nor to entertain Leah’s idle remarks. After all, Leah didn’t often steer them wrong, and it wasn’t exactly her area of expertise to be arguing over. The area felt too open for her comfort, but surely it’d do if Ayden had given the go-ahead.

Nestled at the foot of a mountain and surrounded by lush wilderness, there was an undeniable sense of excitement in the air. It was a new beginning in a beautiful place. Plenty of landmarks were scattered around them, ready for exploration; a thick forest and a large body of water to their south, a decently sized town just southeast, and more mountains and hunting ground to the north in what seemed to be even less tame territory. It seemed like the sweet spot of West Elizabeth, and a nice place to lie low for awhile. One thing was for sure; it was plenty far enough from Boulder. Far enough that their crimes wouldn’t be catching up to them for a while. If they were a smart bunch, they’d take the chance to start over and live like decent folk. But they were never decent folk to begin with.

The camp was looking like a right camp, the midday sun now high above shining down upon their humble lodgings.There was still a bit to unpack from the wagons, but that was all busiwork; left to the lazier members of the gang as it was their one time to truly be useful. Being the newest recruit to Ayden’s motley crew, Veniamin was all too enthusiastic to continue in the setup work. Far too enthusiastic for Hamish to keep up with. The kiss-up attitude may come off irritating to some, but he lacked both a background and a voice for them to call upon; keeping busy was the one and only ace he had up his sleeve with this group, and he intended to use it to the best of his ability.

Already gone from the immediate area was Evelyn, off to observe the local flora no doubt. The woman was aged as fine wine, but still moved swift as a fox. Well, when she wanted to anyway. To the outskirts of their new base, Ramsey was also readying to head out; now Ramsey clearly wasn’t her first name, but she’d never graced them with an alternative. Suffice to say, she never was one to stick around for a chat -- always rather matter-of-fact whenever she did decide to speak up -- and resorted to action before words. It was obvious she’d been planning to leave since they got there earlier that morning; her horse hadn’t been untacked once today. Judging by the bow and rifle she had strapped to her saddle, it was safe to say she’d be heading out on a hunting expedition. With any luck Leah would be right and the game would come easy, and soon the overworked paint would have his break.

“Jordan,” Henry called, approaching with a smirk so coy it could only mean trouble, “What say we head into town? The day’s still young -- young enough -- and even if it weren’t, night never came as a burden when women was involved. How quick you think we could be suckerin’ these saps this time?”

The twang made it all too obvious: this man grew up a streetrat in some run-down slum of a city. But that came with its own charm of course, for what he lacked in tact he more than made up for in wit and a dogged sense of perseverance. As well, he was happy; this was his first time setting up camp as not the newest member of the gang. That alone was enough to set him off, ready to go out and start conning before the moon had even the slightest chance to fall.

“You hear that, Myra?” Leah joined in on the activity with a grin. “We might be headin’ into town. Wonder what kind of men they’ve bred around these parts? We’re so far south now-- I’m bettin’ on wild ones. Big, dumb, and ripe for the pickin’. Hey, that sounds like you Abram! I’d say you, Roy, but you’re too damn quiet to come off as dumb.”

“I think I’ll keep it that way.” The towering man responded calmly, continuing to remove things from the back of the wagon as they spoke. The sense of new beginnings had taken grip of even him it seemed, as his tone carried a brighter note than usual. One wouldn’t take him for a criminal at face value, but he was awkwardly tall and lacked a taste for women, finding his residence with the Hughes gang out of necessity just the same as some before him had done. That wasn’t to say he didn’t pull his weight, serving much the same purpose as Abram when it came to daily life.

“There is a gun store,” Effie interjected from the hitching post, looking over her tack. “General store, inn, saloon, even a doctor. As backwards as it is, it’s got the works. I think we’d all benefit from a visit. If not for work then for supplies.”

Like usual, Connor was busy at work removing various items and camp assets from the multiple wagons that had lugged their loads all the way down south to the secluded area known on the map of this beautiful, vast land as “Big Valley”. Every time they moved their home, it was part of his job to help pack and unpack the camp and help everyone get settled in. As he removed tents, supplies, tables, and some other things, he could hear the conversation the two women were having. He didn’t give his own input, as his opinion hardly mattered-- this is where they were staying, whether he liked it or not. Besides, the infamous leader of their odd assortment of thieves and criminals rested almost lazily against a tree, in which his mean mustang known oh-so-lovingly around the camp as “Murphy” was tied to. Like usual, he was instructing his son where to put everything, fancying more of a supervisory job as opposed to a hands-on one.

“Put that tent over there, in that flat spot right by that there rock.”

“Put that table over there, under that tree there.”

It was only a couple of the instructions Ayden typically barked out at him that he so regularly heard when it was time to settle in a new area. At least this time he wasn’t working alone, and of the group helping him this time around, he had a rather willing and eager partner to help him out with the work. Usually others were tasked to help as well, but they weren’t quite as enthusiastic as their newest member Veniamin seemed to be; they usually left all the hard work for the young sharpshooter to deal with. He appreciated the man’s help-- and though he felt bad for him, he did also appreciate not having to work with a talkative person for once. He looked pointedly at Abram for a second.

He set to work, building the last of the tents. He had done it so many times, it didn’t take him very long at all. He stepped back to look it over, making sure he had done it right, even though he was positive it was one-hundred percent sound. He looked up from the make-shift shelter and device of privacy, hearing Henry call to Jordan; who had realized had distracted Ayden with talk of who knows what. No wonder he hadn’t heard his father bark more orders at him since he had begun to set up the tent. The charcoal-haired man turned away from the former lawmen, looking toward Henry with a smirk immediately tugging at his lips.

“Ah, just the man I was lookin’ for. I was just talkin’ to Ayden ‘bout that very same thing. Far as I know, they ain’t too smart ‘round here. Heard talk of the folk ‘round here followin’ some preachin’ or some other bullshit their mayor spouts off at ‘em. They’re gullible, dumb, easily persuaded folk. Should be easy work for the lot of us. I’d say a few days, at the most.” The man replied with a laugh, deep voice thick with a heavy country accent that suggested he originated from a place in the deep south-- perhaps even around these parts.

“I agree, I think y’all should head into town, start pulling the wool over the sheeps’ eyes.” The older man nodded approvingly at both men, his accent definitely southern, but the way in which he spoke suggesting that he was a better and more well-read man than the usual country hick. He was most definitely not from anywhere near here. Eyes travelling from the men, his gaze found its way onto his son once again.

“Boy, quit standing there pretending to look at that there tent and go run down to the river and fetch us some buckets of water. There’s still too much to do for you to be standing around like that.” He called at Connor. With a sigh, the young man nodded, heading over to one of the wagons and grabbing the buckets out of the back of it.

“Sure. Whatever you say, old man.” He returned, his voice reflecting a similar but slightly deeper country twang to it, beginning to carry the buckets off down to the water. It was quite a long way to walk, but it was a good excuse to get away from the others for a little bit, and take in their surroundings. Besides, this place… it was quite beautiful. He drank in the sight, finding some peace in its beauty. While he was off doing that, Myra pushed herself excitedly off the fallen log she had chosen as her seat as she let the men do the work of setting up their establishment. She looked to Leah with a grin, nodding at the cartographer.

“Dumb, but big, strong, and handsome, I’m bettin’. Just like Abram.” She laughed, her tone carrying a particular intonation suggesting she came from a more mid-west origin. She eyed the large man as he was also busy about the place, helping to unpack and set everything up. He halted what he was doing to spare a glance at the two women.

“You’re both just mean cats, ain’t ya?” He snorted, clearly having come from some major northeastern city. His words normally would have come from someone who had taken offense by the harlot’s statement, but he seemed rather amused by them more than anything.

“You know what they say, Abram. If they tease you, it means they like you.” Myra giggled.

“Everyone knows what the both of you like.” He shot back.

“Now who is cruel, Abram?” She teased.

“Okay, enough of that. Why don’t you two girls head into town with Henry and Jordan, and help them start suckering those fools.” Ayden interjected in the exchange.

“Of course. Would be a pleasure.” Myra replied with a knowing smirk.

“Good. Diana, I see Ramsey might be heading out, looks to be to hunt. Why don’t you go with her, we don’t know who or what is lurking around these parts. Not that I don’t think you can handle yourself, Ramsey, but the last thing I want is for a damn cougar or bear to get the jump on you while you’re by yourself out there.” He looked to the woman dressed in all black, wearing pants with a hunting knife and two revolvers sleeved in their holsters, which were strapped to her gunbelt. Said woman was helping to unpack the camp, setting down a box as she heard her name. Myra was extremely feminine, she loved wearing dresses and didn’t mind relying on the men. Diana on the other hand, was the exact opposite.

“Yes, sir.” She responded, abandoning her job of helping to unload everything off the wagons to instead tack up her horse so that she could depart alongside the other woman. It was around this time that Connor finally returned from the river, carrying the two buckets now full with water. He set them down next to one of the wagons, stretching with a sigh. Most everything seemed done now, with the exception of some small things and a few things that needed some touch-ups here or there. It had been the result of hours worth of work, but they once again had a place to call home. That was all that really mattered. The question was… would it last? The answer, he already knew… nothing lasts. It was just a matter of time before they would have to move again. He supposed that they would just have to cross that bridge when they got there.

“Saw some fish down in the river while I was gettin’ that water. Spotted some perch, bluegill, even a couple of pickerel and rock bass. Nothin’ like the smallmouth, sturgeon, or pike we’ll find in that lake, but if we’re ever in desperate need of food, it’s nice to know we got somethin’ close.” He chimed up, looking over in his father’s direction.

“Good observation, boy.” Ayden commented with a nod of praise toward the gunman.

“Just them goin’ into town?” Connor questioned, seeing Jordan readying his horse.

“We’ll let them go in first and start doing their thing. We’ll go in some time after and just grab what we need and leave. We don’t want them knowing that we’re all together, or they might get suspicious,” Ayden explained, taking out a pack of cigarettes and pulling one from the pack. He returned the pack from whence it came after putting the cigarette in his mouth, retrieving a match from his match box and striking it up. He brought the lit match up to the cigarette between his lips, lighting it. He then shook out the match, haphazardly discarding the used match onto the ground. Gripping the cigarette between his pointer and his thumb, he took a long drag on it before pulling it away, blowing the smoke out through his mouth, “might as well relax, sit, an’ get comfortable for a little while.”

Hearing that, Connor needed no further prompting. He went over to the hitching post, pulling his rifle off the holster on his saddle. He then grabbed a cloth and some gun oil off one of the wagons, finding a small little secluded log toward the back of the camp where he could look after and oil his weapons in relative peace. Sitting on the log, he laid the rifle across his lap, opening the gun oil and dabbing some onto the cloth. He then began to carefully run the oily cloth along the weapon, making sure to get every nook and cranny he could reach. He took special care to run over the engraving of his mother’s name; Elizabeth Hughes. Despite the weapon having been over twenty years old, it was still a fine rifle, and was almost pristine-- it was clearly cared for regularly. When he was finished with the rifle, he carefully leaned it against the log beside him, beginning to work on his revolvers.

“Sure thing, Ayden.” Leah giggled, the smirk on Myra’s face sparking one of her own. “As Abram said, we’d love to.”

“I dunno about these girls, Jordan. Sometimes I think they’d be more fit to escort than con, but that’s just me.” Henry teased.

“Don’t knock it ‘til ya try it, love. Besides, a quick con only gives you the money. Playin’ the long game is so much more fun.”

“You know, you’re funny. I have tried it. Not really for me. I’d prefer uh… runnin’ the show.” Henry grinned, delighted by the idea.

“Who says we don’t? I don’t see a boss ‘round here, except for Ayden of course but he ain’t no pimp.” Leah mused, shaking her head at the thought. Handsome as he was, the idea of the man running a brothel was… absurd.

“Well c’mere babydoll, I’ll find your marks and take half your earnings how ‘bout that?” Henry suggested with an oh-so innocent smile.

“You’ll only pick the ugly ones, Shaw.” Leah retorted, unamused by the city boy’s suggestion.

“Aww, dumb broads do learn.”

“Ha! Lookit you with your mouth. It’ll get you killed one day you know.”

“Well aware darling, but it suits me just fine for now. Now, y’all two gonna stand there and bicker with me, or ready your horses?”

“I figured we’d just ride with you.” Leah suggested happily, not at all trying to weasel out of the extra work of riding herself.

“Aw, you just can’t get enough of me can ya?”

“Oh, no honey. I want Jordan.”

“What? You’re joking. What’s that old ass got that I don’t?”

“Respect.”

“Yeah… Abram’s right. Hellcats, the both of ya.”

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“I understand.” Ramsey’s reply to Ayden came simple and plain, nodding her head slightly in kind. While she wasn’t particularly frightened by the notion of the aforementioned predators, she could agree that a partner would make the endeavor safer for the both of them. And while she wouldn’t admit it outright, it always came as a comfort to know that others worried for her safety. As long as they were looking out for her, it meant they were truly on her side. For now at least.

Greeting Diana with a subtle wave of the hand, Ramsey decided to take Connor’s lead and do a little gun maintenance of her own. Reaching across her horse’s back, she pulled a particularly old hunting rifle from its’ place on the saddle.

It wasn’t quite in the condition Connor had managed to keep his sniper in, but it was decent; mostly the issue came with scuffs and scratches to the grip. The barrel was new, but only because it had to be. She didn’t need some fancy piece of artwork strung to her hip. Her gun wasn’t for the viewing pleasure of others. That just wasn’t for her. This gun had been her friend for ages, faithful and true-- no amount of fancy engraving or exotic wood was going to change how it fired. Others might judge her for letting the weapon remain in such an ’unsightly’ condition, but it should hardly matter when most of the folks unlucky enough to see it would be dead anyway.

“I’m thinking whitetail. Maybe pronghorn. We saw plenty on our way in. If we can each get one now, we can save time for other things later.”

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’Relax.’ Ayden’s suggestion echoed in the Irishwoman’s mind for a moment, searching for a place to settle. But there wasn’t enough space.

Try as she might to heed their leader’s advice, Effie couldn’t help but remain skeptical. They were in a new county, and a new camp, restricted by new laws and surrounded by new dangers. This was the furthest south she’d been since her immigration to the country, and so far she wasn’t impressed.

Having scouted the town prior to settling down here, she’d already decided she disliked it. While the stupid folk that inhabited the area may make easy marks for con and robbery, they also made for dangerous enemies should anyone be caught in their activities. A smart man with a gun is danger enough, but at least they are predictable. A dumb man, however...

Making her way to his side, Effie nudged Connor’s shoulder.

“You know I can’t sit around doin’ nothing. Especially not right now. Would you mind another round of training? We could go the opposite direction of our huntin’ party, run the game towards ‘em if we’re lucky or even bag some of our own if we’re extra lucky. I’d just like to brush up on my aim before we start attracting trouble rather than after. ‘Cause you know we will.”


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As the camp’s members began to spread out or settle in, Roy took this time to begin setting up his own area. It was arguably the most important area in the camp, after all; the cooking pot. A typical campfire was all well and good… if you liked your meals overcooked and on a stick. No, this was a much more sophisticated way for the rough and ready outlaws of the forest to prep their lunches and dinners.

He started off simple enough, pulling together some choice firewood for a pile. Digging through one of the wagons, he found several partially rusted iron poles of varying lengths and sizes. Hammering the two longer pieces into the ground on either side of the fireplace, he then balanced the shorter piece across them. From there he hooked the pot onto the bar-- but he wasn’t done. He had one last accessory to add to the mix.

Searching through the wagon a little further, he finally found a square of iron bars. This was, in fact, originally made for a bank teller’s window, for their security of course. It just so happened that, with a little modification, it also made for the perfect rack for cooking meat. Pulling up four decently large rocks to each of the corners of the rack, he set it comfortably above the firepit, finally ready to prepare the night’s meal.

Content with the job he’d done, he now took to a seat himself to begin sharpening his knives.