MOONLIGHT
The screaming grew louder and louder as Jeb McCulloch approached the stable. He expected most of the town to be asleep but something was taking place, something horrible. The last time he heard someone wailing with that much pain and agony was when he was on the front. It brought back terrible memories for him, memories of a man yelling and screaming as he begged for someone to shoot him and put him out of his misery. No one did. They just laid there all night beneath the stars and falling leaves waiting for him to die.
Jeb thought about shooting him but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. When the man finally died as the early morning sun broke over the gray, autumn horizon no one was more relieved than Jeb. It was the most horrifying thing he had ever witnessed. He had seen plenty of men die but there was something about the anguish in that man’s voice that he couldn’t forget.
Rather than dismounting with ease, as was his usual custom, he removed his poncho and drew his pistol. The starry sky was so quiet it made her desperate cries seem even louder as he walked towards the stable.
When he came to the door he found a crack to look through. His eyes searched the murky darkness until they settled on some shadowy shapes. As he strained to see what was happening, he was able to make out a man’s arm, then another. It was three men. Two of them were holding a woman by the arms and the third was lying on top of her.
A dog ran over to where Jeb was standing and started sniffing around. He tried to silence the dog but it was too late. The dog started growling and barking at him.
“Jim, why don’t you go see what that dog’s barking at,” he heard a voice say.
Jeb threw the door open and pointed his revolver at the men.
“The dog was barking at me,” he said, as the men released her arms and scrambled to their feet. They raised their hands in the air as Jeb looked at the man lying on top of her and said, “If I was you I’d pull my pants up.”
“Now don’t go getting any crazy ideas,” the fat man said as he pushed himself up to his knees. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Jeb looked down at the woman sprawled out on the floor amidst the dirty straw. There were no tears on her face, only surprised relief.
“All right, how about if you boys move away from her and stand over there in the moonlight where I can see you a little better,” Jeb said, as he took a step towards them.
“Mister, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. If I was you, I’d get back on my horse and just keep riding until you come to the next town,” the fat man said, as he stood up and buckled his belt.
“Yeah, why’s that?” Jeb asked.
“Well you see, I just happen to be the sheriff of this here town. Before you go getting any ideas in your head about shooting someone I just thought you should know that.”
Jeb took his eyes off the men and looked down at the woman again. She was barely able to collect what was left of her shredded dress and cover herself.
“You’re the sheriff?” Jeb asked, confused.
“That’s right. I’m the sheriff.”
“Who would these other two fellows be?” Jeb asked.
The sheriff smiled.
“That’s Jim Drake,” he said, as he pointed to the smaller of the two men. “He’s the mayor of this here town.”
Jeb removed his gaze from the sheriff and looked at the mayor. He didn’t look back. He stood motionless with his hands in the air looking at the ground.
“And who would this other one be?” Jeb asked the sheriff.
“Why he’s the owner of this here stable we’re standing in and half the other things in this town.”
“And who is she?” Jeb asked.
“Just a girl we were having a little fun with.” The sheriff said.
“It doesn’t look to me like she was too willing to play along with you boys.”
The sheriff smiled again.
“Oh, she likes to play. Maybe we got a little bit too rough is all. Just having some fun. Come on, you know what it’s like.”
“No. I don’t know what it’s like,” Jeb replied, as he took another step towards them. “Are one of you boys married to her?”
“No stranger,” the mayor answered, as he raised his head and looked at Jeb. “Look, I’m sorry about all of this. I know it isn’t right. Please don’t shoot us.”
“Well, I guess that depends on you,” Jeb said.
“Look mister, we’ve got no quarrel with you,” the mayor said. “I promise I won’t do it again. Give me another chance,” he pleaded, as he dropped to his knees and put his hands together as though he was praying.
“Shut up Jim,” the sheriff scolded him. “What he means to say is if you get back on your horse and ride out of here like this never happened we can all just forget about it.”
Jeb drew in a deep breath as he reached down with his left arm and helped the woman to her feet. He was startled. It was the first time he got a closer look at her bloody face. She looked more like a girl than a woman.
“Why don’t you go outside and get some fresh air,” he said. “There’s a poncho out there you can put on.”
She nodded her head as she brushed her hair away from her face.
“Now, just a minute,” the sheriff said, as she began walking towards the door. “This has gone on long enough. Just what are you planning to do? You can’t just let her go.”
Jeb pulled the hammer back on his pistol and pointed it directly at the sheriff’s forehead.
“Mister, you’re making a big mistake. The kind of mistake that you’ll live to regret,” the sheriff said, as she closed the door behind her.
“Well, I’m in a bit of a bind here aren’t I? I can’t exactly turn you in to the sheriff.”
“That’s right mister. You’re in a bind.” The sheriff said, with an arrogant smile.
“I can’t just let you go after what you did to that girl.”
“Sure you can,” the sheriff said, as he turned and looked at his wealthy friend. “We can make it worth your while. Can’t we Herb?”
“That we can,” the rich man said. “Buy you anything you want.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Jeb answered.
The sheriff looked at Jeb again, but he was no longer smiling.
“Mister if you shoot us every lawman and bounty hunter from Denver to Texas will be out looking for you. Hell, she’s just a half breed girl. What’s it matter to you anyway?”
THE DESIRE FOR REVENGE
“I don’t want to leave you here like this”, he said, as he released his father’s hand and stood up. “But I have to go. He’s already got a good start on us.”
The wealthy man looked at his son for a moment then closed his eyes.
“Scott I know you’re going to do what you want to do”, he said, as he opened his eyes and looked up at his son again. “You’re too old for me to tell you what to do anymore but don’t go getting yourself killed because of me. The desire for revenge has a way of blinding men.”
“I have to go dad. I can’t just sit here and do nothing. We’ve already got a group of guys lined up and ready to go. They’re just waiting for me.”
“Be careful”, he said, as he reached out and took hold of his son’s hand again. “Even though there was three of us and we caught him by surprise he gunned us down like nothing. A man that good with a gun is a man you need to be mighty wary of.”
“I know, dad. But I’m not afraid. I’m going to do everything I can to find him and bring him to justice. What kind of son would I be if I didn’t do that?”
“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Scott. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t throw it away.”
“I don’t just want to get him for shooting you, dad. I want to get him for shooting the others too and for raping Sara. We can’t just let a man like that walk around. We have to get him”, he said, as he released his father’s hand. “Earl’s going too. He’s the one who organized getting the guys together.”
“You make me proud boy. Maybe you can save her from the hands of that treacherous outlaw if she’s still alive. We tried but he was just too fast. I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but I’ve never seen a man raping a girl like that before. I guess we were so shocked at what we saw our reflexes were just too slow and we’d been drinking all…”
He put his hand over his mouth and coughed before he was able to finish his sentence.
“I’m sorry” he said, after he rested his head back on the pillow. “I haven’t been able to stop coughing up blood ever since that bastard shot me. Anyways, what I was saying was you know how it is when we get together for one of our business meetings. We were just going over to the stable to get our horses so we could ride on home and that’s when it happened. We walked in and saw him just laying into that girl like there’s no tomorrow. Poor thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look so terrified in all my life.”
“Don’t worry, dad. He isn’t going to be able to get all of us. I don’t care how fast he is. We’ll have him outnumbered at least twelve to one, maybe fourteen or fifteen to one.”
“Just promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t think I’m going to be here when you get back. Your mother won’t be able to stand losing both of us.”
“Don’t worry, dad. We’ve got it all worked out.”
“Listen to me, Scott. Make sure you give them some extra money before you leave and offer the man who gets him even more. Every man has his price. If you pay them enough they’ll do anything you want. Keep Jake close to you. He’ll watch your back. Make sure you give him a little something extra too but don’t let the others know.”
“Dad, I need to go.”
“You better get your mother”, he said, as he closed his eyes.
LEGEND OF AN OUTLAW
The late afternoon sun was hot as he rode into town. After watering his horse and hitching it to a post he walked over to the saloon.
“Whisky”, he said, as he tossed a coin onto the counter.
“Yes sir”, the barkeeper replied, as he fetched a bottle of whiskey then placed it on the counter along with a glass.
“Much obliged. You know anything about that poster outside?” He asked, as he opened the bottle and poured some whiskey into the glass.
“I know a little bit”, the barkeeper said, as he wiped the counter with a cloth.
After he took a swig of whiskey the man with hollow eyes reached into his vest pocket and tossed another couple of coins onto the countertop. The short, balding barkeeper scooped up the coins as he reached into his vest pocket again and pulled out a cigar.
“Let me get that for you”, the barkeeper said, as he reached for some matches. The bounty hunter’s eyes followed his movements like a hawk that had zeroed in on its prey.
“There was a shooting at the stable the other night. They say he killed three men”, the barkeeper said, as he lit the bounty hunter’s cigar. “One of them was the sheriff. The mayor was another one. He took a fourteen year girl with him as prisoner. Can you believe it? A fourteen year old girl.”
“That’s what the poster says. A fourteen year old half breed girl.”
“That’s right mister.”
“Who was the third one?” The bounty hunter asked, as he flicked the ashes from his cigar onto the floor.
“His name’s Taylor. Herb Taylor. He owned the stable and some other things in town too.”
“How well did you know them?” The bounty hunter asked.
“I knew the one you just asked about the best. He was the owner of this place, that is, before he was shot.”
“So, he was a friend of yours?”
“We weren’t friends really. He was my boss. He was a good man. He always treated me fairly. Sure, now and then he’d have a little too much to drink and lose his temper, but who doesn’t?”
The bounty hunter stroked the rim of his hat for a moment then tossed a couple more coins onto the counter.
“Were there any witnesses?”
“Not that I know of”, the barkeeper answered. “If you ask me what happened I think he killed them so he could make off with the girl. She sure is a pretty girl. She’s young but she’s really well developed for her age.”
“You think he shot three men just so he could take a girl with him?”
“You don’t seem to realize the kind of man you’re dealing with here”, the barkeeper said. “They say he shot two men up by Lake’s Crossing last week and a couple weeks before that he shot a man in the back. He was walking away with his money after a game of cards. God only knows what he’s doing to that girl. If you ask me I’d say she’s probably already dead. A killer like that ain’t going to keep her around for long. Once he’s had his fill of having his way with her he’ll put a bullet in her. Traveling with a girl will slow you down. You know that. They’ll get him. Somebody will get him and I’ll be damn glad when they do. Maybe you’ll be the man that finds him and gives him what’s coming to him.”
“So, you know the girl?”
“Yes sir. I do.”
“Do you have any idea who the fellow is she’s with? The poster doesn’t give much of a description to go on.”
“No sir. I don’t. He wasn’t from around here. I can tell you that much. There’s only three men missing and those are the three that he shot.”
The bounty hunter looked around the saloon for a moment then said, “I bet her parents are worried about her. Do you know where I can find them?”
“No sir. As far as I know she doesn’t have any parents. They died some time ago and the girl had been on her own, you know, going from place to place, that is until the mayor took her in and tried to help her out. Her father was a white man and her mother was a no good Indian. Apache, I think. That tells you what kind of man the mayor was to take in a girl like that. Most folks won’t have anything to do with a half breed but the mayor took her in anyways. He was a mighty fine man. God rest his soul.”
“She was living with the mayor?” The bounty hunter asked, surprised.
“That’s right. With him, his wife, and their four kids. The man that shot him left that woman a widow and those four children without a father. Saddest thing I’ve ever seen in my life was when I watched them crying at his funeral. What’s this world coming to when a stranger rides into town and guns down the mayor and sheriff?”
“How do you know it was one man who shot them? I heard something about tracks from more than one or two horses.”
“That’s right mister. It happened late at night so most folks were already asleep. Some of the boys were here drinking and playing cards. That’s when we heard the shooting. Me and a couple of the boys ran over towards the stable. That’s where it sounded like the shots came from. There they were. The three of them were just laying there, blood all over the place. There were tracks leading south. I can’t say for sure how many horses made them, but I think it was at least four horses, maybe five.”
“Very interesting”, the bounty hunter said, as the barkeeper walked towards the other end of the counter to attend to another customer. When the barkeeper was finished getting the man a beer he walked back over to where the bounty hunter was standing.
“So no one knows for sure if it was one man who shot them or more than one.” The bounty hunter said.
“That’s right. If you ask me, he probably has a partner or two. The sheriff was pretty handy with a gun. For a man to get off three shots like that by himself would be hard to do unless he had some help.”
“Or caught them by surprise”, the bounty hunter, said. “It just doesn’t make sense. I wonder what they were doing at the stable that time of night?”
“I don’t know. Folks have been talking about it. We can’t figure that one out either. Sometimes they’re here pretty late playing cards and drinking and talking but they weren’t here that night.”
“Well, the poster only has one man on it. It’s a sizeable reward for one man. But, it’s good to know about those tracks. Either he’s got a partner or two or he took extra horses with him.”
“I don’t know mister, but this town’s been a mess ever since. It’s all anyone’s been talking about. We still don’t have a new sheriff yet. The one that was killed the other night was one of the finest men I’ve ever known. He brought law and order to this town.”
The bounty hunter took another gulp of whiskey then poured himself another glass.
“If you want to take a shave and bath we have a fine barber across the street”, the barkeeper said.
The bounty hunter smiled.
“I’d be more interested in getting to know one of the ladies in town.”
SWINGING BY THE NECK
The town was packed with people. It was the day of the hanging. The streets were overflowing with curious onlookers anxious to see the outlaws they’d heard so much about. Five men would soon feel what it’s like to have a rope tighten around their necks as their feet give way beneath them to sway into nothingness.
As they walked the notorious bad men up to the scaffold the crowd began to fill with excitement. Even though the rain had turned the streets to pure mud it didn’t stop them from coming from all over. For many of them, it was the most exciting thing they would ever witness. The chance to see an outlaw up close with their own eyes was more than worth the journey they had to make. It was a family day, a day where you didn’t have to sweat on a farm or ranch until you were so tired you could barely stand.
More than anything else, it was an excuse to celebrate, gossip, and get rip roaring drunk. It wasn’t a holiday, not officially, but it was close, something akin to a barbaric picnic. Beneath all of the bawdy camaraderie there was a disquieting aspect to their ravenous lust for death; something that most people won’t admit to themselves or talk about directly. If they were bad men, the scourge of society, a threat to civility, the implication by relative contrast then is that they are good. What makes them able to see themselves as good people has nothing to do with their actions or beliefs. It’s the fact that they are able to perceive others as bad.
As Jeb walked towards the General Store he spotted a wanted poster with a reward on it. The poster had a picture of Sara and a description of him. He was relieved that it didn’t have his name on it. They don’t know who he is. Even so, it was proof that they were after him. Until now he suspected that he was a wanted man but seeing the words DEAD OR ALIVE in black and white gave him the strangest feeling.
The most important thing he realized is that in addition to not knowing his name or what he looks like, they also don’t know if he’s alone or has a partner or two. Seeing a drawing of her face in broad daylight with the amount of reward money they deemed his life to be worth was a different type of feeling than suspecting it. It made it real. The price they put on his head was higher than what he thought it would be. Even so, it wasn’t high enough. After fighting for the north for more than three years in the Civil War he had seen more battles than most men will ever see.
He didn’t want someone to see him looking at the poster for too long so he walked into the General Store as though he had never seen it. No one seemed to take notice of him. Most likely they were distracted by the hanging that was about to take place. It was a stroke of luck. Had he come into town when people weren’t thinking about the hanging, someone might have become suspicious.
Every town is the same. You ride in and everyone stares at you trying to figure out who you are, where you’ve been, where you’re going. Girls gawking and gaping at you with that look in their eyes, hungry for a man, hungry for a soldier. So many men died in the war that it left a lot of lonely women out there waiting and hoping for a man to come along and make them feel alive again.
He had planned on buying some supplies in town the next day when he came across the men raping Sara, so he wasn’t able to buy them then. Now, he would have to buy a little at a time at several different towns, because if he buys too much in any one town it might draw too much attention to himself, or he would have to risk it and buy everything right now. It was a tough choice to make. He was certain that he was going to head into the mountains but if he doesn’t have enough supplies it’ll be tough going. On the other hand, if he buys everything at once someone is sure to notice. Either way it’s a risk, he reasoned.
Since the General Store was all but empty he decided to buy as much as he could rather than having to risk venturing into another town or two. He was careful to keep his back to the other people in the store, so they couldn’t get a good look at his face. He was very conscious of how fast he was moving as he gathered some blankets, ammunition, canteens, and salted meat. He didn’t want it to look like he was in a hurry. He took his time as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
The clerk was in a mighty good mood. He couldn’t stop talking about justice and the men getting hanged today. Jeb concluded that he knew the man he was talking to quite well. At times like these Jeb always wished he wasn’t able to hear what people were talking about. For the most part, he felt sickened by the people around him. The war was bad enough. Watching men die all the time was enough to make anyone in their right mind sick. The stench of death and rotting corpses pervaded everything. There were times when he wanted nothing more than to lay his weary soul to rest. He couldn’t bear the thought of waking up one more day to the smell of it and the sound of wounded men wailing in agony. It gave him a strange, surreal feeling to find himself alive battle after battle. Countless nights he wondered why they had fallen and he had lived.
True, some of war is about skill. Shooting straight with a calm eye was something he just seemed to be born with. When other men were scared and their hands were shaking, when they were ducking their heads to avoid the bullets coming at them, when they were fleeing from the explosions of cannons, he was at his best. He never heard the rifles or cannons in the heat of battle. It was so quiet to him as though there was nothing making a sound. He always felt completely relaxed when he aimed his rifle at the enemy. The men who were the most scared always died the fastest. Now and then one of them would get lucky and live to see another battle or two but they never lasted long. It was their fear that killed them more so than the rifles or bayonets of the rebels.
He knew that the most important part of any battle takes place first in your heart and mind. That’s the front you must win before you step onto the battlefield. The physicality of it is merely a formality, an extension of the inner battle that is projected onto the larger reality. All great soldiers know this. Intelligence, intense alertness, and concentration are just as important, if not more, as having a sharp eye and strong hands. You win the battle before it ever takes place because nothing can conquer or defeat your soul.
These men, these fierce epic fighters that liven the pages of history aren’t made into spectacular soldiers because of any particular form of training or regimen. They are born with this innate ability and character. Their tremendous capacity for fighting is nothing more than a reflection of the purity of their souls. They are the hope of their people. Everything depends on them. It is their shoulders upon which everything is determined. They are the strongest and the best among us.
The easiest way to identify a man like this is through the gentle softness of his ways. Some men are born weak. This only adds to the deplorable nature of their actions. Weak men are never gentle or kind. It is their weakness, not their strength, that turns them into cowards and inspires them to do unspeakable things. It is easy for the discerning eye to see them. They bully and take advantage of those weaker than them every chance they get. If a man like this is in a position of leadership, he will become the worst kind of tyrant. By contrast, great warriors are gentle. They give rather than take. Their power comes from this. They never fight unless they have to. They don’t fight for something as fleeting as glory. They don’t fight for selfish personal gain. They fight the right battles for the right reasons in a manner that lifts all men around them to loftier heights than they ever knew was possible.
Fear was something that Jeb didn’t feel like most men do. He wasn’t afraid to die. Every time he sent a letter home to his bride to be or his mother and father he knew it could be his last. They knew it too. He always said he would write again soon. Before long the war would be over and he’d be back home.
The men he fought with thought of him as the bravest man they’ve ever known. He didn’t think of himself that way. He just knew that he never felt afraid again since he was seven years old. On a late December night he watched his friend die after struggling for weeks with a fever that refused to subside. Jeb realized something at that moment, saw something beautiful in that moment of death, something he never told anyone about. Up till then he experienced fear like all children, but something happened when he watched his friend float into another world on that cold winter night, something that changed inside him.
It made him disgusted to see people so excited about watching men die. Maybe they were outlaws. Maybe they did what they were accused of and deserved the fate that awaited them at the gallows. Then again, maybe they had been falsely accused by dishonest men anxious to stake a claim and call the west their own, but why someone would take so much pleasure in watching a man die didn’t make sense to him. If that’s what they want to see they should have watched the war. They would have seen more death than a man should ever see in a lifetime.
Maybe that’s why they liked it, he concluded. It was something foreign and mysterious to them, something beyond their reach, something outside their limited understanding, something they only saw now and then other than watching an animal take its last breath. But he had seen so many men die during the war that there was no mystery or macabre theater in it for him. Every day was the same as any other, a day filled with blood and death. The sun rises. The sun goes down. Men die. What else can you say about war?
The worst thing about the war is that his Grandfather died while he was away and two of his brothers died fighting for the cause. The oldest one fell at the Battle of Wilson’s Creek, the other, a year later. He never got to say goodbye to them. That’s what bothered him the most. Before Lincoln became president, before the war broke out, he would spend all day laughing with them. They would talk and talk and carry on about the adventures they would someday take, but then the war broke out and destiny took them to an unimaginable place before their dreams had time to come of age.
He no longer thought about marrying the girl he loved and starting his own family. He no longer thought about hunting or fishing with his brothers. He no longer thought about watching the sunset with his father. He no longer thought about how happy it made him to wake up and see that his mother had baked a pie. He only thought about his Grandfather and brothers and how much he loved them. Knowing that he would never hunt or fish with them again was too much to bear. It left him with an empty place inside himself that he didn’t know how to fill. And these people want death? They rejoice in it?
It was hard for Jeb to live in this world. That’s why when the war came to an end he decided to head west and see if he could find something in his heart that wanted to live again. He heard stories about how beautiful the mountains were, how clear the water was, how big the sky was, how wild and untamed it was, and that was something that he could maybe love again. But now, that he shot those men, those dreams were dead too. He killed a lot more men than that in the war and they gave him medals for it. There were battles where he killed ten men or more in a single day, but now that he had rescued a girl and killed three men there were no medals. There were no honors of any kind. Now he was an outlaw.
