The Ballad of Blackjack: Chapter Twelve

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By: Travis Naughton

“The photograph. Do you still have it?” Blackjack asked after regaining his composure.

Moments ago, Jane McCourt had come within inches of losing her life. When her captor and one-time victim used his namesake weapon to unleash his fury upon the headboard of the bed she was tied to, Jane was afraid she might be killed. When Blackjack covered her mouth and nose with his large hand to prevent his hostage from screaming, causing her lungs to burn as they starved for air, she was sure of it.

Expecting to die, Jane was as confused as she was relieved when Blackjack suddenly removed his hand from her face and retreated to the far corner of the room where he quietly sobbed for several minutes.

“Somebody did a number on this guy,” she thought to herself. “Oh my God. I did this to him!”
“Where is the photograph? I won’t ask again.” Blackjack pressed.
“It’s safe. If you cut me loose, I’ll tell you where it is.” Although the photo of Blackjack’s deceased wife and daughter was securely tucked into Jane’s bodice along with several hundred dollars in stolen cash, she was hesitant to relinquish the only bargaining chip she possessed.

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