By Liberty Diaz
The stars are already out over the desert as Bennett and I light a campfire with a simple fire-starting charm from my pocket. I reach into my bag and pull out two apples, tossing one to him. He nods gratefully and takes a bite.
“Have I ever told you about Mull’s Bridge?” he asks, wiping some juice from his chin. I think about it and shake my head. “You’ve probably heard it, just not from me. Every paper covered it, from all the way out here to over in Adams.”
“That was you?” I’m shocked. To be fair, I should have put two and two together earlier. It’s exactly the kind of reckless and stupid thing he’d do with his power.
He laughs. “What, you didn’t think I could make off with that much money? Come on, Colin. I don’t just busy myself with commercial coaches. Sometimes, I have a bit more flair.” He waves his hands dramatically.
“I’m sure there are things the paper left out,” I say, leaning back on a rock, ready to hear another one of Bennett’s adventures. He finishes his apple and pitches the core down the hill.
“I was robbing a train— alone, mind you— down south, where they have all those mountains and mesas and rock spires. It was a Lewis Whitehall Express.” He pauses for a moment to allow me to be impressed. “It was taking all those rich folk through empty country to some cushy resort on the lake. Couldn’t have been more perfect. My contact didn’t send me a ticket—should have been a red flag from the start. Problem was, I didn’t have a hundred dollars cash for one.”
“Did you lie or threaten your way to one?”
“No interruptions, please.” He shoots me an exaggerated glare, then resumes. “Luckily, the station clerk was some gullible kid. Finally got a chance to test my ‘dying forbidden lover that I need to see immediately’ story. Poor romantic gave me one for fifteen and swore that he wouldn’t tell my fictional darling’s fictional family I’d come that way. I was finally on the train.”
“Once we were well out of town, I held up the two passenger cars, collected what I came for before the conductor could notice. Not much in the way resistance or security. That’s certainly changed since then.” He laughs mischievously. “So, I jumped off onto the plateau. The train sped away, but before I could inspect the loot, I saw something coming towards me.” He stops to toss another twig onto the fire. “Blue-coated lawmen. Whole lot of ‘em, too. My contact set me up. I panicked and started running along the tracks and found myself on Mull’s Bridge. There were even more lawmen coming over the other side. I was trapped.”
I remember this next part from the newspaper, but I’m excited to hear it from Bennett. I take a drink from my canteen. “Go on.”
“I was standing on this bridge, law closing in on me, holding one of the biggest hauls of my entire life. There was no way to go off either side of the bridge, I’d be shot, certainly, but I had a great idea.”
“A stupid idea.”
“An amazing idea.” He rolls his eyes. “I waited for the law to come right up to me, because, if I ended up dead, I wanted to do it as memorably as possible. The sheriff rode up on a big white horse and started his ‘surrender or we’ll shoot’ spiel. Everyone had rifles aimed steady. ‘Hello, sir,’ I shouted, ‘if you could just lower your weapons, then maybe we could negotiate, like the civil men we are.’ That old fool just spat his tobacco juice, squinted, and drew his revolver. ‘Last chance, scum.”
“He didn’t really say that,” I can’t help but cut in.
Bennett cocks his head. “Were you there?” I laugh and wave for him to continue.
“I took my hands off my guns, put them behind my head and started backing up towards the edge of the bridge.” Bennett closes his eyes, relishing the memory.
“Is this where you drop your little dime novel one liner?”
“It was the best I could think of at the moment. Put yourself in my situation.” He sounds mock offended.
I scoff. “Stop defending your lack of humor and keep going.”
“I was standing at the edge of the bridge, at least thirty people with guns pointed at me. I flung my hat into the air with as much flair as I could muster, and yelled, ‘Say a prayer for me, boys!’”
“And?”
“And then I leaped down into Mull’s Gorge with bag of bill folds and diamond wedding rings.”
I picture the canyon, a massive gash between two mesas. Seven stories deep, and Bennett’s first instinct was to jump down into it. Most of the time, I’m not sure if he’s a reckless genius, or just a lucky fool. “How’d you survive the fall? “I prompt.
He smiles confidently at the memory. “About halfway down I shifted, you know, into smoke. Never done it so fast since. Probably because I was a few seconds away from dying at the bottom of a canyon. Either way, I turned back once I was safe at the bottom. Grabbed the bag of goodies and got as far away as possible. Guess they thought I was dead.” Bennett shrugs, but there’s a touch of playful pride in his eyes. “Lost that hat. It was a nice one, too.”
I shake my head. “Sometimes I wonder if being around you is good for my own self-preservation.”
“Probably not. But I do make good company.”
“I’d rather hear your stories than be a part of them, that’s certain.”
He sighs, staring up at the stars. “I know you aren’t interested in working with me, you know, robbing, but if you ever wanted to…” He trails off. “I could use a partner that won’t stab me in the back.”