WILD BUNCH WEDNESDAY; The Story With No Name Part 11

Each Wednesday a different writer has taken up the challenge to write 500 words or so segment of this Western short story.
The authors have been I.J.Parnham; Jack Giles; Chuck Tyrell; Evan Lewis; Jack Martin; Jim Griffin; Joseph A West; Bob Napier; Richard Prosch and Paul Dellinger.
All 10 parts can now be read at The Culbin Trail (http://ijparnham.blogspot.com/)
Part 11 is written by Peter Averillo.
Who is next?
Anyone who wants to write Part 12. Just leave a comment and claim your place.


The Story With No Name - Part 11

Silas Bartlett stood there stunned with his mouth gaping wide open.
“What the hell?” he managed to squeeze out, the words strangling in his throat.
The gun in Lola’s hand swung in his direction. A coldness seemed to seep into her honey brown eyes.
“Sit down, Silas,” Lola nodded towards the rickety chair close by his side.
She waited for him to obey before speaking again.
“I don’t trust you, Silas,” she continued. “Never did. But you got one thing right – this is about Walt and me.”
“Don’t include me in,” Walt groaned laying back on the bed.
Lola just smiled: “Like I said this is about you and me.”
“There is no me and you,” Walt spat out. “You made that plain some time back.”
“So I made a mistake,” Lola shrugged. “And you’ve never made any?”
“Plenty,” Walt mumbled.
“Well so did I,” Lola insisted. “The biggest was believing that Zack was the solution to all my problems. He keeps me safe and secure just like I wanted but that’s as far as it goes. We’re just partners in a business. He can’t give me what I really want.”
“And the gold solves all your problems,” Silas snapped as he attempted to rise but sat down again as Lola glared at him.
“No, Silas, this not about the gold,” she snapped.
“If it’s not about the gold - ,” Walt began before choosing to shut his mouth and wait for Lola to say her piece.
“I saved your life, Walt,” Lola reminded him. “I brought you here for a reason. To talk to you. To explain some things to you.”
“Don’t listen to her, Walt,” Silas implored. “She’s in this for herself. Her and Zack Roden, they want my treasure for themselves.”
Lola laughed: “You can believe that if you want to Silas but all the gold I want is lying on that bed.”
“Lola, it’s too late for all that,” Walt groaned, trying to rise up but forced back by the pain in his belly. “’Sides, the way I figure it you’re trying to drive a wedge between me and Silas there. Lull me into thinking that I’d best go with you for the gold.”
“Walt, believe me when I say the gold means nothing to me,” Lola pleaded. “If you don’t believe me all you’ve got to do is burn that damned map.”
The moment that Lola turned her attention to Walt, Silas saw an opportunity to jump her and take the gun away from her. But when she mentioned the idea of burning the map it knocked him back leaving him sitting in stunned silence.
“You serious?” Walt asked, his eyes narrow and watchful.
“Yes,” Lola nodded.
“You can’t,” Silas screamed.
“Certainly not, old chap,” the soft, silky tone of voice had three heads turning towards the open door.
So engrossed in their own problems they had not heard Zack Roden make his entrance nor did they know how long he had been standing there.
“Well, well chaps and chapess,” Zack continued. “It has been a long time since the four of us were last together. Quite the reunion don’t you think?” when no one responded he carried on. “Quite an impressive speach, Lola. Most convincing. Now be a good girl and give Walter the gun. Man looks positively naked without it.” Then, as though it was an afterthought. “Oh, and Walter I don’t think it would be prudent to burn that map. Do you?”