The Brazen Two

[Acehilm]

The Brazen Two

Based on the events following The Hateful Eight 

Chapter One: Quiet Refuge

A wild blizzard had swept from the North, howling softly in the distance as a scruffy, unshaven gentleman adjusted a gas lighter slowly. It illuminated the small and enclosed room he sat in, no more than twelve feet in length and about 9 feet in width. The wooden planks on the walls creaked and moved now and again, and above he could hear the exhaled blow of horses and their hooves thumping against the earth. He sat crouched, trying to keep warm beside the softly pulsating orange glow - wishing he'd never ventured out this way. He had received a letter from Minnie several months back, concerning the health of her close friend Sweet Dave who had fallen terribly ill with pneumonia. Doctor Albert Winnfield Junior was his name, and he'd known Minnie and her family since they were both youngins living in a small settlement outside of Dallas. It took almost two weeks before Albert arrived at the Haberdashery, just at the break of Fall - and both with his expertise and the sheer goodwill of God, he tended to Sweet Dave and watched him pull through the pneumonia. Al was ready to set off back to Texas, however Minnie insisted he stay longer. He simply couldn't afford to stay and keep an eye on Dave's health, as much as he wanted to. Minnie insisted further, explaining that a few young fellas from Red Rock had been adding a basement to the barn for more storage space. It wouldn't be long before she'd call the boys back out again to fix the basement into a small, yet cosy living quarters for the doctor. There was only one request Winnfield asked: that be that he was kept in private. He didn't want no one knowing of him.

Most times, Al would enjoy his own company and dwell inside the basement living space; journal ling and reading. It happened to be that day, that Al was undergoing his own study materials in his quarters when at just before noon he heard multiple gun shots ring out from Minnie's Haberdashery. Armed with a Colt 45, he had made his way to ground level and peered out through a slad in the palings of wood. He could see multiple figures, men - around four or five of them, opening fire inside the lodge. Al went for the barn door, holding it - suddenly, stopping himself and looking back behind him. He figured he would most likely die, being outnumbered by these outlaws. It would be more sensible to take shelter inside his quarters, which could be disguised quite well to the unknowing eye. Grappling a rope from a hanging, he tied one end to the rope on a bale of hay and the other end to the lid of his quarters enterance. Leaving enough slack, he slid the other end through and down into his living space - climbing down carefully, before heaving the rope towards him - watching as the daylight was blocked out by the large bale of hay covering the lid. 

It was there that he seeked out refuge, and only a few hours later he could feel the chill in the air changing - the wind was blowing and creaking the barn outside.. and suddenly, he heard the faint trotting of hooves. There was conversation between a few men, however one voice seemed to be familiar. Albert couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he could tell it was from African American decent. He listened carefully and quietly to the conversation between this familiar voice and another. "Minnie has gone to visit her family on the Northside.." said the other voice. Albert knew that one of them was unaware of the murders that had taken place only a short time ago. His plan was to wait out as long as possible, before making his way to the lodge and meeting whomever be inside. It was hard to make out any outside noises other than the horses and chickens over the loud howling of the wind, but he could have sworn he heard another clammer of gunfire go off. "Lord.. please protect me right now," he heaved off the large bale of hay to the entrance and ascended the ladder into the barn, wielding his colt, watching as the horses shrieked and moved out of the way. 

It was dark and cold as hell, and he shivered violently as he pushed the stable doors to the side. They'd set up poles and rope to navigate through the blizzard to the Haberdashery, and he gripped the rope tightly and begun to trudge through the thick layer of snow - the wind and ice burning his face. His beard wasn't much protection in these conditions. It was a long and hard struggle, but he'd made it to the porch and pushed on the door. It was locked, he presumed. Al figured if he was outside much longer he'd surely freeze to death, so he barged on the door and suddenly felt it give way as he collapsed on the floor inside - the door swinging wide open, blowing out the fire in the fireplace. As he lifted his head, his eyes widened to the witness of a savage blood bath of bodies.

 A voice croaked out from the left, "Who in the hell are you?"

Albert turned his head, focusing his attention on the bed where two men lay. One of them he knew, the other was a complete stranger. "Where's Minnie? What the hell happened?" Albert climbed to his feet, walking cautiously over to the bloodied men with his pistol cocked and raised. 

"They done killed her. The bastards set us up!" he heaved and groaned as he adjusted his seating beside the bed. Albert furrowed his brows, squinting in astonishment.

"Marquis Waren?" he said. Warren lifted his head a little more. Al lowered his pistol.

"My god. Winnfield, is that really you?"

The other man turned his head in surprise to Warren, "You know this guy?"

"Know him? I was locked up with him and his brother," he suddenly yelped out in pain, speaking quieter in a gravely tone, "In WellenBeck."

Albert tossed his gun onto the dining table on his right, "You fellas need medical attention," Winnfield paced over to the basement lid that had been opened, a gruesome body laying slumped over. He'd stocked up on a bunch of medical supplies, hoping to find them where he'd stored them. 

"Forget about me, Winnfield.." Warren said, "I don't think this ol' boy's gonna make it." Albert didn't hear him as he descended into the basement, shuffling around in the dark - beginning to sort through crates. "Mannix.." Warren spoke softly, his eyes starting to droop, "I got a letter in my right jacket pocket.. tell Winnfield.." he struggled to get his breath, "To get this to my sister. Her address, it's on there.." 

Mannix kept his eyes on the basement entrance, "You think he's gonna find anything down there?" he asked. There was a pause, and he looked up over at Warren.. his eyes glazed over, his breathing had stopped. "God dammit," he muttered under his breath, as a sharp pain shot through his side abruptly and he groaned loudly. Winnfield ascended from the basement holding a small box of supplies, sliding it across the floor towards Mannix as he heaved himself up. "Warren's gone.." Winnfield lowered his head, sighing in mourn.

He moved quickly towards Mannix, taking out a tourniquet from the box and strapping it firmly around his left upper thigh. "Looks like you've lost a lot of blood, son."

"I think you'd be right." A patched dressing was placed over the wound, before Winnfield used a thick cloth bandage to tightly wrap the area. "You think imma' pull through this?"

"You should. You'll need some water. A lot of water."

"Warren wanted me to tell you something.."

"What's that?"

"There's a letter to his sister in his jacket pocket.." there was a pause, as Winnfield stared at Mannix surprised, "He wanted you to get it to her.."
 

Edited April 6, 2020 by waxman.