# The Desert Flower

Author: StGeorgesHorse
Tags: Assassin, Coyote, Desert, Love, Love at first sight, M/F, Vaginal, Wolf, tragic

#49 of Miscellany


The eddies of dust drifted away in
the hot wind as the last few shovelfuls of desert soil were sifted over the
recently excavated hole. An assassin by the nickname of Vibora was putting forth
a little extra effort to fulfill the terms of his contract, for burying his
victims was not a part of it. But this time the hit had been different - and
difficult, for despite everything people might think about his type, he for one
had a conscience. 
He sat down on a sharp outcrop,
looking from the setting sun in the west to the location of the village where
he had been staying less than a full day. His orders had been simple, but
carrying them out had proven to be most onerous. Most onerous indeed. The glint
of steel in the fading light caught his gaze, and he stared hard at it before
getting up and walking away.
This all began when had met with
one of the crime bosses that dotted the landscape down here below the Rio
Grande, oh, a good eight weeks ago. 
Apparently he has having trouble with one of the villages in his
territory and needed the leader taken out. Sounded simple enough on the surface
of it. Then again, being given just the tip of the iceberg when there was so
much more information to be had on this assignment proved that further investigation
was in order. 
Normally he would have slipped out
of town well before a corpse had grown cold. This case was an exception.
The leader did not turn out to be
the alcalde, but rather a lovely coyote lass who packed a lot of looks,
resilience and sass into that amazingly slim body. Her name was Flora, and she
was indeed a lovely cactus flower, and like the cactus, one who carried a
dangerous needle and wasn't afraid to use it. That blade was sharp enough to
shave with, and was more than capable of slitting any interloper's throat. It
was just one indication that life out here wasn't great, but it was a life
nonetheless.
For life was different back then. It
was the nineteen fifties, and much of this semi-arid region was connected by
bad roads and dry creek beds. Anyone living out here was tough. You had to be.
Otherwise you died. It was just that simple. There was no room for the weak.
The assassin walked for three days
and nights to reach the village, called locally by the odd name of Tortuga Negro. He carried little
with him except some money, his clothing and a canteen. There was no point in
showing up in a truck, or on a motorcycle. As it was, he was versed in his
profession well enough to know that any stranger showing up in an isolated
place like this was going to draw immediate attention to himself. Therefore,
low key was the word of the day. He carried nothing on him that would have
belied his true nature. Weapons could be made from anything at hand, so
bringing something along that was that obvious was stupid.
Sure enough, he was greeted by
several males holding outdated guns. He stopped and sat down on the ground, not
even bothering to hold up his arms.
"You got the drop on me amigos. I've
come to take your gold and your women."
"You are a funny one. Who the hell
are you and what do you want here?"
"My name? I don't really have one.
As for what I want, it is to fill my canteen at your well and then to be gone."

"Where do you come from and where
are you going?"
"From home. And to the coast."
"And where is home?"
"You muchachoes ask a lot of
questions. I could answer them a lot easier if I had a wet whistle."               
"Wet whistle?"
"Something to drink."
As a demonstration he opened his
canteen and turned it upside down.
"See. No agua. See?"
"Si. You may come in and get more
water. We are not unkind to strangers, but you must then go. We have problems
that you wish to have no part in."
"Problems? You bet your cojones I
don't want any trouble. But then I doubt you want any either. Care to tell me
about it?"
"Come. Get your water. Then you
go."
"OK, ok, sorry for asking. I just
was curious because I do know how to handle a gun."
"So can we. You get your water and
you go."
"Fine. No need to get huffy about
it."
The well was in the middle of town,
not overly surprising out here where water was the mainstay of life. That
simply meant that the town had been built around it. These people and their
ancestors weren't stupid. Simple maybe, but not stupid. 
They were primarily of the canine
class of citizen; some wolves like he was, and others coyote. They were
athletically lean and well adapted to their environment. He had to admire them
for that. He was already in the mood to return to his home and escape the
oppressive heat, but a job was a job and he never failed to fulfill a contract.
He filled his canteen and pulled
several long draws on it until it was empty again. Then he refilled it, capped
it and saluted weakly to the ones holding guns.
"Señors. I thank you. I could go
for something stronger now to brace me for my journey, but I wish not to impose
upon your hospitality."
"Cerveza?"
"Si. Or something stronger.
Something to take away the aches and pains. Traveling on foot is difficult."
One of the wolves lowered his gun. 
"We have a cantina. Do you have
money?"
He pulled out a crumbled wad of
bills.
"Some. Enough I think."
One of the other wolves laughed.
"You wish for drink, but you desire
no food? What kind of fool are you?"
Vipero smiled inwardly. The best and most cunning kind.
"Now that you mention it, food does
sound good."
And just that quickly he was
sitting in a chair, a table in front of him, drinking a cool glass of pale
yellow brew and feasting on a plate of one of the locale's epicurean delights.
Well, delight might be overextending the concept, but it was at least
satisfying.
He placed his money on the table
when he was done. The owner shoved it back.
"Señor, there is too much here."
"Not if you have a room I can have
for the night. I don't really wish to go back out there today. I can be on my
way tomorrow."
There were several looks exchanged,
and a few mumbled words.
"There are rooms available. But I
would advise against it. We expected an attack at any time."
The assassin shrugged before
pulling out a lie from his collection of many.
"I have already been attacked. Do
you think I would walk to where I wanted to go?"
"Who attacked you?"
"Sorry. I failed to ask them their
names. Some banditos wearing skulls on their lapels. Does that ring a bell with
you?"
"Si, it does. But how come you
still have your money?"
"They took my motorbike, and they
took the rest of my clothes. I gave them some of my money. The rest I had
hidden away safely. Do you know these gilipollas?" he asked, using an
especially endearing insult.
"Si. They are also the ones giving
us trouble."
"Is that so? Then maybe this is my
chance of getting back at them. But why are they so up in your faces? You don't
look like people who could offend anyone."
There was an extended and
embarrassed silence before a female voice filled in the void. It came from the
stairway leading to the rooms upstairs.
"They tried to hide their guns and
their grenades here."
He turned to look at the source of
the voice. He nearly let out a low whistle, having properly wetted it earlier.
His mind overrode his heart and he did nothing. But that dress; and what it was
filled with; dios mio! 
"Weapons runners? That is a
dangerous business. But just because you told them no shouldn't mean they would
be dead set on vengeance."
"Shows what you know hombre. First
off, I didn't just tell them no. I took their supplies and hid them away, just
like they asked. For some reason they're mad that we won't give them back."
"So, if you have newer guns, why
are you still using these relics?"
"I will not allow blood money to
taint our hands. And those things have only one purpose; to kill."
"True, just like the guns you carry. Why would you care so much
about it?"
She finished walking down the
stairs and came right up to him, her nose just inches away from his.
"These guns are used to hunt with;
for rabbit and deer. Those guns are used to kill folks like us. You do not go
hunting with grenades."
"Ok, so you made your point. So you
stole the guns from the traffickers, and now they want them back. Why haven't
they just overrun your village?"
"Simple moron. They think we'd use
them against them. They find it hard to comprehend that we wouldn't."
He leaned back in his chair, not
out of any fear of this slim little chica, but so that he could get a better
look at her. She had the spirit of the torero in her, covered over in the beauty
of the saguaro flower. Then he had a sudden and stomach wrenching thought.
"What's your
name, if I might ask?"
"Flora. Flora
del Canino."
"Hmmm. Yes you are."
She suddenly had a knife at his
throat.
"What did you say?"
He hardly flinched.
"You heard me. I say what I think."
"So you think of me only for my
looks!"
"Hardly. I was stating a truth. I
do not yet know you enough to claim anything more than what my eyes perceive at
first glance."
She pulled the knife away.
"You're a funny one señor. And yet
you see I am not laughing."
"I've been told that before. And
you see that I am not lying. If you have a better side to show me, then by all
means do so."
Blood rushed to her cheeks as she
comprehended his meaning. She was suddenly at a loss for words and stalked
away. 
One of the males chuckled softly.
"You have done something no other
has been able to do for years señor."
"And what is that?"
"You must be el gato, for you seem
to have her tongue!"
The assassin watched her head back
up the stairs. It was a shame he was going to have to kill her. Her hips swung
like the pendulum of a clock, and that tail swished with pert agitation. He
could only imagine what she was like when she hadn't been put off by the likes
of him. He almost felt for her, not sorry perhaps, but she seemed to be a jewel
trapped in a mud pit. She could have been so much more, even if that had merely
boiled down to being a madre with lots of little cubs running around her feet.
But she had to go and stick her nose in someone else's business and now she was
going to have to pay for that.
Some things in life and death cannot
be helped.
He did talk them into a room for
the night. It was plain and simple, with a wooden cot overlain with a down
filled mattress. The room was free from bugs, something he denoted as being a
minor miracle, and as he settled down for the evening, he went through his
orders in his head. They were simple and straight forward. He had to kill this
girl and get the location of the missing munitions. Of course, the nature of
the missing cargo had never come up. Now that he knew what it was, he felt a
twinge of guilt. Like the girl, he wasn't fond of weapons. Yes, that sounds odd
coming from an assassin, but then he often used his bare hands to kill. Weapons
were too easy and often far messier than was needed.
He lay there listening to the
sounds of the desert, and to the off key renditions of traditional songs sung
by those males who preferred to stand watch at night. He was at first surprised
that they would make such a fuss until it dawned on him that it served two
purposes. One, they kept their spirits up by singing them. Secondly, it allowed
for both the villagers and any of the enemy who happened to be in the vicinity
to know they were awake and alert. It reaffirmed his notion that these folks
might be simple but they were not fools.
He drifted off to sleep dreaming of
vaqueros and
bailarines, and of gunfights and tragic deaths. His mind was like a
movie theater, playing forth scenarios from his life; past, present and future.
It was the knife blade to his throat in one such scene that came across as too
real, and the whispered voice in his ear all too audible.
"Make a move
and I'll see your blood!"
He cursed
himself for not waking sooner, but then decided to turn it to his advantage.
"Whatever you
say. But if you fear for your life from me, then why did you bother coming to
my room?"
"I need to
know more about you. I don't trust anyone anymore, much less someone like you
who just happens to wander into the village at the worst possible time."
"Then all you
have to do is ask. You folks are paranoid. Maybe you shouldn't have bothered
taking those weapons."
"I did what I
felt I needed to do. Everyone else backed me up."
"I saw that.
But if you have no intention of using the damned things, then why haven't you
just blown them up? A single grenade dropped into the middle of them should be
enough to set off a chain reaction."
"El stupido!
They are the only thing keeping us alive! They want them back. If they knew we
destroyed them they would be down here faster then a correcaminos to wipe
us out."
"Yeah, that
makes sense I guess. So what is it you want from me? I was hoping to be on my
way tomorrow."
He was
contemplating a move to get the knife and turn it against her.
"You said you
could use a gun."
"I can."
"How well?"
"Well enough.
I don't carry one if that's your question. Guns are a coward's tool."
She pulled
the knife away.
"You know,
you are the strangest male I have ever met. Most men sleep with theirs, polish
them and treat them better than their women. To have someone scoff at them is...loco."
"I respect
guns Flora. I often choose not to use them. But I can and I will if I have good
reason."
"What, señor,
would you call a good reason?"
"Saving innocent lives."
"Innocent? Well, I would not go
that far with everyone here, but they are good enough in their own right. They
certainly don't deserve to die because of a decision I made."
"So does that make you the guilty
one then?"
The knife returned to his throat.
"It might. I have to live with
that."
Not for long, he thought, as he chose
his next course of action. He didn't have much at hand to dispatch her with,
and he wanted to make it clean and quick. Her knife would do the job, but not
without making a mess. As if in response to his thoughts, she dropped the knife
on the floor; it clattering loudly against the dry wooden boards. In the next
instant her hands were around his neck and her lips were on his.
Lips?
He was just prepared to get his
hands locked around her slim throat when he realized that her own petite hands
were behind his neck, not around it. And she was kissing him! He pulled away
and held her by her shoulders.
"What the hell do you think you're
doing?"
She looked defiant.
"What do you think I'm doing? A
girl has needs now and again!"
"With a perfect stranger?"
"What makes you think you're
perfect?!"
She had him there.
"You know what I mean. You know
nothing about me and in the morning I intend to be gone. For all you know I
could be some sort of killer."
"Yes you could be. Who is to say
that I haven't killed? I have other plans for you unless you have other plans
for me. I see no reason you can't lose a little sleep tonight before you go
tomorrow. I'm sure I can make it worth your while."
He was stymied. He couldn't kill
someone who trusted him enough to be bedded by him. So he either had to act now
or forgo all hope of completing his mission. He groped blindly on the floor
near the edge of the bed. He found his shirt and in a quick motion flipped it over
the nape of her neck and grabbed it with his other hand. He pulled it tight and
drew her down.
He kissed her firmly.
She responded in kind.
He couldn't help but think that she
would be dead come morning, but for now, it would be a terrible thing to waste
so much vibrancy and vivaciousness. At least he will have known that he gave her
a good conclusion to her life.
His pants came off and were flung
across the room to land against the wall. Her dress she kept on, but her
shoulders were already exposed by the style, and she deftly slipped her arms
free of it, exposing a pert pair of pechos, tanned and lightly furred like the
rest of her. The skirt of the dress hid her lower portion, but he could feel it
just fine. And it was fine, as fine
as the grains of sand that carpet the Gran Desierto de Altar. She had the heat
of the desert to fuel her fires, and a burning desire that was not going to be
easily quenched. 
He hesitated for just a moment.
Killing her was likely the easier route. He chose to take the more difficult
road. The easier way was great for getting somewhere quickly. The lesser
traveled one offered more to the soul. If he did take this road, there was no
easy way back. It was essentially heading in only one direction. He wavered
between his choices.
She made the decision for him.
He was already hard, for he never dallied
much with the ladies and thus his body was ready and willing to perform at her
command. He did his best to avoid emotional entanglements because they meant
that your enemies had something to hold over you. Thus, a one-night stand was
all he ever allowed himself. This gal, this little señorita would be just the
same. That is, if he let her live after they were done. He didn't see how he
could, but then, the night was young and morning was hours away. He might come
up with another plan before the sun rose.
She slid up and over his cock with
an ease that precluded his notion that she was a virgin. He should have guessed
she wasn't from her whole attitude. Any lady capable of wielding a knife like
she carried had to have good reason to need it, and a mock pair of cojones to back
it up. She was certainly equipped with the proper lady parts, and proper they
were. She pushed down over him with a savage grace he had never encountered
before. There was a wild side to her and she was letting it out to roam freely
upon his pastures.
"Flora, are you sure we should be
doing this?"
She stopped and eyed him in the
most severe manner.
"Is there something wrong with you?
Every male in this stupid village wants to be where you are and you're lying
here protesting?!"
"I never wish to take advantage of
anyone."
"Did you tie me up? Are you raping
me? Am I protesting?"
"No, no and no."
"You're damn right. I don't know
what it is about you, but I like you. Even if you're leaving in the morning, I
still want to have a good memory of your visit. Do you intend to ruin that for
me with your whining and your incessant questions?!"
"No. It's just that, well..." He was
trying to come up with a believable lie. "It's just that I'm normally the one
who makes the move. Having a lady who knows her mind and isn't afraid to act on
it is out of the ordinary for me."
"Is that a good thing or a bad
one?" she asked tersely.
He thought before answering.
"I believe that I like it."
"Is that so? Then I'm not trying
hard enough."
"No?" was his bemused reply."
"No! Liking is for amigos and
amigas. We are not friends hombre. Tonight we are amantes - lovers - and we
will act like lovers. You don't have to love me, but I expect you to act like
you do. I will not tolerate you lying here as if you have something better to
do."
He put his hands against her arms
and gently raised them. Releasing them he grabbed a hold of her dress and
pulled it back up and over her shoulders.
"Lovers hide nothing Flora. If this
is what you want, so be it."
He looked at her in the dim light
and knew that he was only making his task all the harder in the end. He found
himself at a loss for words to describe her, even with his knowledge of
multiple languages. She was everything he could have ever wanted in a woman.
And he was going to have to throw it all away before he was done.
There is something in the futility
of existence in the harshness of life that can bring out a fiery passion that
normally would lie dormant and hidden away. Not this night. The assassin put
aside his duty to revel in this rare beauty. No longer bound by his duteous
nature, he let himself go. Thus freed, he did look upon her as a lover, and one
that deserved everything he could give her.  
For now, he was content to allow
her the privilege of being on top. Her forceful and outgoing nature demanded it
right now, and since it was in no way offensive to his sense of propriety, he
simply lay back and watched her working him over with a fierce passion. He
could see why she might be in demand with the locals. He could see why she
carried a knife.
Flora rode him like the caballeros
north of the Rio Grande rode their mounts. She leaned back, her hair flying in
a veil of fine silken strands, as she put forth every ounce of energy into her
lovemaking. Come sunrise, things would change. So tonight, she was in charge of
directing her own fate.
It didn't take her too long to
achieve that which she desired. His cock was meant for a female slightly
larger, and so she found it just right for her needs. She was no delicate
flower, despite her name and his insistence that she was. She had toughed out
many a close call and she lived on the edge of danger constantly. Whoever he
was, he could only just touch upon the surface of who she was. But boy, where
he was scratching now; that was one massive itch!
He, for his part, did his best to be
both interested and yet lay there quietly and meekly. He didn't want to
interrupt her enjoyment by trying to participate in manner that would prove
counterproductive to her elegant movements. She was engrossed in a kind of
dance, not as lively as some of the traditional fare, but a private one that
displayed all of the skill of a well rehearsed ballerina.
He had wondered at her readiness to
take him on. She was of a cousin species; not like the more diminutive
vulpines, but smaller in every way from what he was used to.  It was almost as if he had a teenager riding
him, something he hadn't had happen in many a long year. It brought back fond
memories and he felt his heart skip a beat.
He was getting emotional and that
wasn't professional at all. It would never do.
But this was now pleasure and not
business, though before the night was out he was going to show her that he
meant business.
Flora put her heart and soul into
this performance, riding him like there was no tomorrow. It wasn't often a
stranger came to town, and when one like this did, it was extraordinary beyond
coincidence. But if his purpose was as she thought it was going to be, then she
intended to make his life hell by making this night one he would never forget.
His type lived out their lives by not getting attached to the ones they dealt
with. They got their hands dirty, but not so dirty they couldn't somehow wash them
clean.
She knew what he was. No other
would come here, under any guise, and so she had been prepared. Sadly, he was
handsome. That made it all the easier for her. All too easy. But she was
prepared to do whatever it took to keep her people safe. She would even die for
them if necessary. She would do it willingly. She just wouldn't be happy about
it.
It was in her desperation that she
pushed herself into her role as lover.  Not
that this fellow was a terrible choice. If not for what he was, she might like him for who he was. For at any point along the way during the past few
hours, he likely could have killed her. She almost wondered why he hadn't bothered
trying.
What she didn't know was that he
had a code by which he lived. Killing was fine when the person on the receiving
end deserved it. Often it was a matter of petty squabbles involving drug lords,
and he then went in and took out one, only to have that clan hire him to take
out the leader of the other. That he could live with.
But this was different.
His code told him that this case
was special. 
And so was she, in so many ways.
But if he didn't kill her, someone
else would, and then there would be a price on his head too. That simply
wouldn't do. Regardless of how he felt about her come morning light, she was
going to have to be dealt with. It was going to be no easy thing.
For now, all he could do was make
her last night special, as she asked. It was the least he could do.
She leaned down and kissed him,
knowing that she was possibly kissing the lips of death. But death was cold and
his lips were warm and inviting. He might be a killer, but he wasn't cold
blooded. He kissed her back as she violently thrust against him, working over
his cock with wild abandon. Her tail whipped like a flag caught in a dust devil
as her hips gyrated like a sidewinder trying to escape the ravenous roadrunner.

He returned her kiss with one of
equal strength, pulling her down and wrapping his arms around her. He gave her
a squeeze, and as he did, he brought up his knees and took over as the dominant
one in this tryst. He jerked his hips into her until he felt his knot come
live, and then they were both locked into their affair until such time as it
subsided.
It gave him a certain amount of
emotional comfort and freedom. There was no way he was going to kill her until
this was over, and a knot made sure it lasted a good long while.
It's sometimes considered trite and
a bit prejudiced to think of the coyote clan as being howlers. The fact is they
are. There was no question what was going down in that tiny room on that hard,
wooden cot. With the windows open the village and half the surrounding desert
knew. But no one came; no one interfered. They knew what the penalty would be
and they stayed their hands. Flora had warned them a week or more ago, and to
interrupt them now would earn them her wrath, assuming the wolf didn't kill her
outright.
As it was, she was finding his
physical form and his dexterous abilities to be to her liking. Whoever he was,
he put his all into what he did. He would make a far greater asset to her if
she could only convince him that his goal was unjust. Surely he had to see past
his contract. Couldn't he?
He drove into her for all he was
worth. Some of it was true passion, and some of it was hate. Hate for being put
into this position; hate at what he was; hate at being here doing this to her
when he knew she had to die. 
She had never had the likes of this
in her life, and she thought that she might be willing to be buried in the
unforgiving ground only because she thought she would never see the likes of
this ever again. To live without such intensity would diminish the remaining
years of her life.
She pulled loose from his grasp and
sat up again, her hands behind her head as she rocked in time to his
unrelenting thrusts. She let loose every bit of range her vocal cords could
produce, right up to the ear splitting howls that rattled his eardrums. Not
being an overly emotional male, he tolerated her tempestuous cries with well
contained humor, until he found them contagious.
He recognized, much to his mild
horror, that he was longing to add his to hers. He held off performing such an
indignity until she clamped around him like a boa constrictor, send shock waves
through him and setting off a chain of events that left him breathless.
Well, maybe not breathless. His
howls mingled with hers, signaling the culmination of that sexual peak and signified
by a comingling of their bodily fluids.
That is to say, he pumped her as
full as she could take, and still more poured out of him. She dug her nails
into his flesh to the point of drawing blood. He barely noticed in the throes
of his sudden emotional need to have and protect her. He knew it wasn't right,
but he couldn't help himself. He continued to pump away on her until she
collapsed against his heaving chest. By that time they were both utterly spent.
They lay together in a heap for an hour or better, for they were presently
inseparable thanks to his engorged knot.
He forewent sleep his body now
craved, despite his present exhaustion. His mind was wildly alive and confounding
him with a wild assortment of scenarios. Sadly, they all came to the same conclusion.
He was a fool. Logic told him he was suffering from an emotional attachment of
the sort his kind never engaged in. And yet, with her draped across him, their
bodies still together as one, how could he feel any different? He couldn't. And
yet, he couldn't save her. He knew the type of goons she had managed to draw
the ire of, and they weren't the type to give up. Regardless of where he might
try to hide her, they would ferret her out and destroy her.      
He really should have stuck to the
plan. The plan was simple. The plan was clean.
This was a total mess.
She stirred, nuzzling his chest as
she came awake.
"I guess I wasn't wrong."
"Wrong? About what?"
"That you were here to kill me. You
just about succeeded."
He felt a lump form in his throat. 
"What? No!"
"Oh please don't lie to me. It'll
ruin the evening. At least be as honest in your words as you were with your
emotions. I went into this as you did. I have come out not as I went in. Tell
me you felt something as well."
He sighed.
"If you knew, why didn't you just
have the others shoot me and get it over with?"
"If I had you killed, they would
send another and another and another. All they wanted was me, but others might
have gotten hurt or worse, killed because of me."
"They want their weapons back too
you know."
"Of course they do. That's what
this is all about. Power. I have taken some of it from them. Do you think I
would be so quick to give it back, even if I have no desire to wield it
myself?"
He brushed back her disheveled
hair.
"No, I can see where you have your
ways set into stone. You have a good heart Flora."
"Had."
"Had? How do you mean?"
It was her turn to sigh.
"I think that somewhere during our
lovemaking, I handed it over to you.:
"I am not the one to keep safe such
a jewel."
"Nonetheless, it has been given
over to you. What will you do with it?"
He was silent. She was no fool, and
he loved her because of that. She was at least his equal, if not his superior.
He had never met a female like her and he knew deep down inside that he would
never meet one ever again."
"I would treasure if I could, but
as it belongs to you, and as you must die, I can lay no claim upon it."
"So you still intend to kill me?"
Again there was silence.
"I don't see where I have a choice,
now more than before.
"True. You have been compromised.
And if you do not do it, someone else will assuredly step in to finish what you
have started."
"Dammit girl! You talk as if this
is nothing more than pleasant conversation!"
"I am resigned to my fate. I only
wish that I had not fallen for you, or rather, that you had fallen equally for
me."
He growled at her, lifting her part
way off of his chest and shaking her.
"Who's being the idiot now! I
cannot live with you and I cannot live without you! I have never been placed in
as great dilemma than the one you have woven around me!"
She managed a smile after his
furious outburst subsided.
"You do love me then?"
"I don't know. I've never been in
it before. But the thought of losing you makes my heart ache, so then yes, damn
you, I'm in love."
"Then I can die happy."
He shook her again.
"That's not funny!"
"But we agreed that I had to die.
Whether by your hand or another's; my actions sealed my fate. There is no other
way."
"Well dammit, I un-agree. I cannot
do it."
"Do you love me?"
"Yes! I will aver it, or avow it,
or whatever it is you want from me."
"All I ask you is that you do me
the kindness of making it fast and painless. Any others who would follow you would
not extend such a courtesy as that."
He looked her deep in the eyes. He
knew she was right. He had bungled an easy hit and was now going to pay for it
the rest of his life.
"If that is what you wish, I can do
it. But I will not do it willingly."
"It is. Unless you can find some
other way out of this predicament, that is all I can ask for."
"It seems a poor gift for as fine a
lady as you. You deserve more."
"I can but agree with you señor.
But there is little more you can give me now."
"Is there nothing at all?"
"Well..." she began.
"Yes?" he asked a little too
eagerly.
She wiggled her hips.
"Since you're still inside, perhaps
you'll do the lady the favor of another round?"
"With pleasure!"
And indeed it was. By the time
daylight came, a decision had been made and affirmed. It was a day that was
long remembered in the village, a day when life had to be sacrificed for the
good of all. They did not interfere in this decision, for how could they? The
decision had never been theirs, and this was the only manner in which it could
be righted.
And so the assassin stood alone
over a mound of stones and sand, angry with himself and his lot in life. He
would soon be done with killing. Let others who had less moral fiber than he
carry on in his absence. He suddenly felt old. Until this business was
finished, he intended to remain in the village. After that? Only the fates knew
for sure.
A message was sent out to the crime
boss who had hired him. He wrote it out himself and had one of the locals
deliver it to an outpost, who from there would see that it got to its intended
recipient. It went like this.
Done.
Job is complete. Package is buried in the old corral outside of town. Buried my
heart on top of it as an added bonus. Wasn't worth the money.
He kept his eye on the road the
next few days. On the third he saw several old trucks rattling down the dusty
dirt track. The villagers were still armed with their rifles, for there was no
guarantee that this group of thugs might not still try to exact revenge on the
community as a whole.
They pulled inside the corral,
surrounding the spot of raised stone. There was a lone, dead rose sticking out
of the ground there, and through a spyglass he could see one of the desperados
kick it to pieces. There was something else down there too.
 A knife. 
Flora's knife. 
Someone reached down to retrieve
it.
It was meant to be a symbol. Its
blade was a sharp reminder that one should never stand in the way of love.
And the wire that was attached to
it?
A reminder to be careful what you
decide to take up as your own.
The explosion ripped into the gang
and sent the trucks flying. Stones rained clear to the village. When the dust
cleared, there was no one left standing in the corral.
"Señor?" asked one of the villagers.
"Si?"
"Will you stay here now?"
"Yes señor", cooed a voice. "Will
you stay here now that you have freed my village of this curse?"
"Flora dear, if you ask, I shall do
it."
"Then I ask it. And besides, you
owe me a new knife."
"I'll buy you a hundred if you wish
it."
"Just one will do."
 
 
 
Now,
you may be asking yourself; what the hell happened?
                Love happened.
                Would you kill the one you love
to save them from a fate even worse than death? If you answer yes, then you
have an idea of how deep love can imbed itself in your soul. But a wise wolf
once said that turnabout is fair play. A single wire tied to the pin of a
well-placed and carefully buried grenade, and thus yanked upon unceremoniously
by some worthless goon, will tend to send the whole pile of explosives sky
high. And with no gang to seek retribution, the village - along with the loving
couple, found that life was worth living again. True, there might be other
obstacles to deal with down the road, but there would be plenty of time before
they needed to bother their heads over that.
                Today the desert proved to be a
little less harsh and a little more forgiving.
                
 
 
                
               

Source: https://sofurry.com/view/1067876