Its a long way down, Cowboy!

The rhythmic pounding of hooves crashing down on the muddy trail interrupted the soft spoken rain as a horse drawn wagon raced around a sharp bend in the road; The cover on the back, torn from a hail of bullets, almost completely exposed the inside of the wagon where a figure curled up against the wooden flooring shook in fear.

A young man, his hat drooping over his eyes from the rain, frantically looked back through the ripped tarp, watching the pursuing men on horseback cut around the bend. A girl, now leaning up on her bruised hands, looked at him with tears in her eyes. Her brown hair, once fashioned in a sleek updo, was now messy and soaked. Her red dress stuck to her body as rain entered through the ripped tarp. The black stockings she wore had been ripped from sliding back and forth across the splintered wooden flooring of the wagon; one of her red dress shoes had gone missing in the chaos. Through her soaked, green eyes, he could tell she saw the panic in his. He looked forward, frantically cracking the reins as they continued on through the darkness.

Up ahead, he noticed a small path that split through the trees. He quickly steered the horses to the left, almost tipping the wagon over, and they disappeared into the woods. He could hear the sound of horses passing behind them as he went deeper down the small path.

The path was darker than the main road, only illuminated by the faint light from the moon shining through the trees. He rode on, noticing the trees along his left side beginning to thin out. His heart felt like it was close to beating out of his chest. He didn't know if he had escaped. For all he knew, they could have found the path and were heading his way. He decided to ride harder, to not stop until the skies cleared and the morning sun reared its elegant face.

He thought, The plan...it had gone so wrong...How did it go so wrong...they're all dead...

The girl spoke up from behind, taking him from his thoughts; her voice trembling, "Sir, p-please stop the wagon."

He said, shaken, "I cant. Not until I'm in the clear."

The girl raised her tone, shouting through a pain stricken voice, "PLEASE STOP!"

"I CANT, DAMMIT!" He barked.

The thinning trees along the left side had now completely disappeared and a sinking feeling surged within him as he now overlooked a winding river and miles of trees. He attempted to turn the wagon but he knew it was too late. He felt the left side give way as an audible gasping from behind turned into a terrified scream. The wheels along the right side drug across the rocky edge of the cliff, momentarily catching onto a heavy, protruding rock. The wagon hung over the trees below for only a moment before the rock gave into the pressure, sliding through the mud. The wagon tipped over and fell; the horses neighed in frustration as the wagon took them with it. He could hear the girl's screams grow distant as he lost his grip on the wooden armrest. The tops of the trees grew closer and closer until he struck one. He tumbled through the tree, taking branches and leaves with him. Through the remaining branches, he could barely make out the ground growing ever closer until sudden darkness filled him and all awareness ceased to be present.

 

They're hunting you, Cowboy!

The rain had stopped and the sun rose off in the distance, shining its elegant light through the trees and onto a young man's blood stained face. He laid still, unconscious from the fall; His body was covered in the branches and leaves he had taken with him. A steady, liquid splashed onto his face from above, subsequently causing him to come to.

He slowly opened his eyes, moaning from the soreness all over his body. Taking the heels of his hands, he rubbed at his aching eyes. Once content, he looked up at the tree he lay beside, noticing a wagon impaled straight down the trunk, resting directly above him upon a few branches. The wagon appeared unstable, ready to drop onto him at any given moment. He painstakingly pushed himself up; He felt a sharp pain in his head and along his chest as he did so. After moving out from under the tree, he looked at his surroundings. Below the wreckage, and around where he had been laying, were pieces that had fallen off of the wagon. He looked back up at the wagon. The tree it rested in appeared to be leaning to one side due to the weight of it.

He thought, What the hell happened here?

A sudden, tough, ripping noise picked up behind him as he slowly turned around in response. Just beyond a few trees and a row of bushes were a pack of wolves; they shared a meal that was just out of view. He slowly and painfully backed away from the pack, careful not to alert them. Suddenly, from behind, a cracking sound echoed throughout the forest. He quickly turned around to witness the wagon falling through the tree, crashing down on to the spot he had just been.

The sudden crash sent the pack of wolves scattering from their meal. He watched them disappear into the woods before heading over towards what remained of the wagon. Coming across the wreckage, he noticed a cylindrical object poking out from under a piece of tarp. He bent down, stopping as he winced in pain from his chest. He tried again and managed to remove the tarp, revealing a Remington revolver. He grabbed it and slowly slid it into his empty holster. He continued to look through the wreckage and came across a saddle bag. Inside the bag, he observed, were a box of biscuits and a leather canteen; he also found medical supplies that he promptly added into the bag before closing it and slinging it over his shoulder.

He didn't know what had happened or where he was but he decided there was no reason in staying put. He moved on through the woods, away from the cliff and towards what sounded like running water.

He broke through the tree line and on to a rocky shore where he stood a few feet away from the rushing waters. He could see the other side where more trees resided against the opposite shore of the river. He decided to move downstream, following the current felt, to him, like his best chance of finding help.

Suddenly, from the corners of his eyes, he noticed a red figure moving through the trees. He looked over as the figure disappeared. Leaving the river behind him, he went after the figure.

Someone's out there. He thought as his adrenaline kicked in, making the pain momentarily go away.

He searched aimlessly, eventually stopping, looking around for any sign of the red figure. He suddenly winced in pain as the sharp pain in his chest returned. He fell to his knees as his head began to ache; his eyes throbbed in their sockets. He clenched his teeth together as the pain came close to overwhelming him.

Seconds passed as he sat in the dirt, waiting for the pain to go away, and eventually it had. He sat up and slowly lowered himself against a nearby tree; a beam of light from the sun cut through the trees, perfectly illuminating his injured chest as if God was mocking him. He closed his eyes, drifting asleep to the distant sound of running water.

"Wake up...they're hunting you, Cowboy..."

He opened his eyes; the beam of light from the sun now blinding him. He looked around through the forest, searching for the unknown. His heart sank in his damaged chest as he heard the howls of hungry wolves from all around him. His hands trembled as he reached into his holster, pulling out the Remington. With his back still against the tree, he frantically looked around, trying to spot the wolves. Their howls were getting closer, yet he couldn't see them.

He decided that he couldn't handle the mental torture anymore and stood up, pushing towards the river. The pain in his chest surged again, stinging with each breath he took. From behind, he could hear them pursuing him. They grew closer with each passing second and he knew it was only a matter of time before they reached him. The river was now only a few feet away as he came across where the trees met the shore. He passed through the trees and immediately felt a sharp pain in his calf, causing him to fall onto the rocky shore. One of the wolves had reached him.

The wolf dug its teeth into his leg, growling as he screamed out in pain. He swiftly lifted his free leg and proceeded to kick at the wolf in a desperate attempt to ward off the animal, but to no avail. With trembling hands, he reached down to his holster, pulling out the Remington and fired a shot at the wolf.

The bullet missed.

He cocked back the hammer and fired again. This time it hit, taking the wolf's left ear clean off. The wolf backed up, whimpered before making another push towards him. He cocked the hammer back and fired a third bullet. It struck the wolf in the chest, causing it to trip over itself, falling to the ground.

He noticed it was still alive, yet too weak to attack. Before he could react, another wolf charged from the side, biting into his arm, causing him to drop the Remington. He frantically felt his hand around in search of the revolver, instead his hand came upon a stone. He grabbed it and swung his hand at the wolf's head, causing it to bite down even harder. He swung the stone over and over again at the wolf's head as blood began to stain the face of the stone. In response, the wolf finally eased its grip on his arm, stumbling away as blood rushed down from an open wound in its head. He pushed himself up using his good arm and leg and started down the shore of the river, limping as the sound of howling from within the forest resonated through his ears.

The others were growing closer and he knew he had to pick up his pace if he wanted to survive, but his wounds wouldn't allow him too. He could now hear them just beyond where the trees met the shore. He knew they had found him, and without a second thought, he threw himself into the river, letting the current take him away.

 

Get up, Cowboy!

He awoke, coughing in a fit as water poured from his mouth. The sun's elegant light shone down from above, drying the upper half of his body; his waist sat submerged in steady water. He leaned up, looking at his surroundings--trees still lined across each shore but the other side seemed further away. He slowly and painfully turned over and pulled himself away from the river, dragging himself until he was completely out of the water. He turned back over and laid with his face to the sun.

The feeling was pleasant. The warmth brought him comfort; It felt as if someone's arms were wrapped around him, telling him that everything would be fine. He forgot about his wounds, slowly closing his eyes. His eyelids glowed in a bright, vibrant color. It reminded him of his days as a child when he laid out along the grassy hills near his home, soaking in the warmth of the sun. He would fall asleep there, only waking up when his mother called out for him, signaling the time for supper. That memory was swiftly blocked out as his eyelids grew dark.

"Hey Mister, are you alright?" The voice seemed similar to the voice he had heard before. "Wake up, Mister."

He grew annoyed by the voice. It was disturbing his peace.

"Leave me alone." He muttered. "You're blocking out the sun."

The voice now seemed to be closer, more distinguishable, "You're awake! Now, c'mon...we have to get going."

He cracked open his eyes, looking up at the face of a girl staring back at him. She seemed to be young, no older than twenty. She had a cut along her chin; the blood dried over the wound. Her hair was a brown, frizzy mess and her red dress...a red dress. He became more aware as it caught his attention.

He thought, She must have been the figure I saw earlier, and that voice...the one who warned me...

He said, "Who are you?"

She appeared confused for a moment before seeming to understand.

"That was quite a fall..." She said, understandingly. "The name's Emma...Emma Baker."

"Emma...Baker." He said to himself. The name seemed familiar but he didnt know why. A sudden, sharp pain shot through his head as he pinched his eyes shut, holding in the pain. He grew tired, he wanted to give up.

"You're in pretty bad shape..."

He said nothing.

"You're going to die soon if we don't get you out of here and to a doctor."

He spoke in a low mumble; his eyes still shut, "It's fine."

"It's not fine..." She said, and then to herself, "Not for me, atleast."

He remained silent.

She stood over him, thinking before speaking up again, "You're brother...he's in trouble."

He opened his eyes, pulled in by the sudden news.

She continued, "He's to be hanged tomorrow by noon for a crime he didn't commit." She reached into a familiar looking saddle bag and pulled out a letter, showing it to him. "This letter contains proof that he's innocent, but without the letter, he's as good as dead."

He reached up to grab the letter as she pulled it away. "You mustn't open the letter or they won't accept. They'll see it as tampered evidence. This letter is from a high ranking official and it can't be opened until it arrives in the town's sheriff's hands."

"Where is this town?"

"It's along the edge of the exact river you're lying next to." She looked up at the river and then back down at him. "If we head there now, and without any disturbances, we should be there by sun fall."

His attention was now brought to her small, outstretched hand.

"C'mon...Get up, Cowboy!"

 

Stick 'em up, Cowboy!

The leaves that shook loose in the afternoon breeze rained down on the two as they walked through the forest; the young man struggled to keep up a few paces behind. He was tired from the seemingly endless trek they were making towards a town that he didn't even know existed until just recently, though he didn't remember much to begin with. His legs felt like they were going to give way and his wounds only made it worse as they stung with each drop of sweat. He stopped, sitting down next to a nearby tree. Emma noticed his actions and turned around to face him.

She barked, "Hey, c'mon! We need to keep moving or we wont make it in time to save you or your brother."

He looked up at her face. She was concerned, but he could tell, deep down, it wasn't for the reason he initially believed.

He said, "Just let me rest for a moment."

She frowned, "I can't...I wont. We don't have enough time."

"Why do you care so much for my brother anyways?"

"Well...why do you seem to not care at all?"

He looked into her eyes; they played a different act than what was being displayed.

Emma spoke up, "Look: my father..." She paused for a moment before continuing on, "My father is a sheriff, and when I was younger, he taught me many things about right and wrong and what us humans can, and will inevitably do to one another. I found that many of the things he had taught me applied with almost everything that I had come to face throughout my life. Now, I find my self facing another..." She paused for a moment, thinking, before starting up again. "He told me: With his mouth, the Godless man would try to destroy his neighbor, but by knowledge, the righteous are delivered. I believe that I am delivering that knowledge in the form of this letter.

He looked down at her hand where the letter still remained; the letter was slightly bent from her grip around it. He looked back up at her face. There still was something off. Something hidden.

"The innocent will be seen as just that," Said Emma, and then, "Just like how the guilty will be tried as such."

She stood still, momentarily looking at the letter in her hand before snapping out of her deep thoughts. She walked over, crouched down on her knees and pulled out the saddle bag, "I won't be able to do much, but I think these should at least help." She slid the letter under her dress and reached into the bag and pulled out the medical supplies.

He looked at the bag as questions once again grew in his head, "How did you get that?"

"What?" She asked, following his eyes down to the saddle bag by her side. "Oh, the bag? I found it laying across the forest floor. Pretty convenient, huh?"

"Yeah." He said absent-mindedly as she worked on his wounds to the best of her ability.

"Alright, these should hold you together for now." 

"That's good to hear." He said, slowly pushing himself up onto his feet.

"Look at you! Back on your feet." She said enthusiastically. Another act. "Let's get going, we're cutting it close." She said, turning back to where she was originally going.

He started after her, stopping to pick up the saddle bag. He froze at the sudden sound of a click coming from behind him.

Emma spoke as she turned to face him, "Hey! Are you coming-" She froze, letting out an audible gasp.

"What are you doin' way out here?" A voice spoke out from behind. He slowly turned around to face the voice, first taking note of the revolver pointed directly at his face. Behind the gunman were two more armed men; one stood with a rifle in his hands; he held it low, relaxed. The other held a rusted revolver in one hand as he leaned against a near by tree. He looked up past the revolver and at the gunman's face. He watched as the gunman's eyes immediately widening in surprise.

"No shit, boys! Look who it is!" The gunman turned his head, facing the other two to exchange looks before turning his attention back towards him. "James Barner in the flesh!"

He looked up at the gunman in a state of disarray that quickly grew to realization. He thought, James Barner...that's my name...I remember my name...

"So tell me, what is James "Baby" Barner doin' way out in the middle of the forest?" The gunman asked, flashing his uneven teeth.

"I could ask you the same." James said instinctively. He still had no clue who they were or what was going on.

"Did you hear that boys?" He said, turning to the two stood behind him. " 'I could ask you the same,' he says!"

The men laughed as James took the opportunity to turn his attention back to where Emma had been, only to notice she was missing.

"Alright James, stick 'em up, Cowboy!" The gunman said, moving his revolver up and down by flicking his wrist. "Whatever reason you're out here for...it don't matter anyways. You're coming with us." 

 

Its a cruel...cruel world, Cowboy.

The sun's elegant light was broken up as it set behind the many trees that resided within the forest; its light scattered across the four men who walked under the cover of the trees. James walked in front of the others; his hands bounded by a rope. His head continued to ache with each step.

James managed a question that had been on his mind, "Where are you taking me?" 

An unfamiliar voice barked out in response, "You ain't in the position to be askin' questions, so shut yer goddamn mouth!" 

Their leader spoke up, "Calm down, Jessie." And then to James, "We're taking you to Lew...I'm sure you've heard of it."

James turned his head to the side, looking back at the man, "I haven't."

"This aint the time for bullshittin!" The unfamiliar voice spoke up again.

"Jessie! Shut your sister kissin' ass up!" Their leader barked.

Jessie's voice now sounded submissive, "Sorry, Micah."

"You better be!"

James thought, Micah...another name that seems familiar...Jessie?...not so much...

Micah continued, "Now, James. I'm sure you're aware of the price on your head..."

Confusion sunk in as James tried to make sense of what was said, "What? I don't know of any price..."

"James...Buddy, C'mon," Micah said, waving his arms around with his revolver in hand. "I'm trying to be reasonable with ya but you're really starting to test my patience."

"I swear to you. I don't know what you're talking about." James pleaded.

"Stop moving for a second..." Micah said. 

"What?" James asked.

"Just stand still." 

James stopped in his tracks and turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps. Micah stood before him, suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders and kneeing him in the gut. James dropped to the ground, out of breath as Micah stood over him.

"DONT PLAY DUMB WITH ME YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" Micah screamed out, delivering another kick to James's now protected gut. "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" He went to kick him again, now connecting with his head. James rolled over from the blow; blood dripping from a gap in his teeth.

Micah spoke again after a moment, panting, "Look at you! What a mess!" He turned back to face the others, who had watched in enjoyment. "What do you think, boys? Ya think that smile will still be able to capture the hearts of the ladies?" They bursted into laughter, and once finished, "Hey, now that I think about it...didn't that poster say 'dead or alive?'

"I think it did!" The other man spoke up. "But we'll have to carry the body."

Micah said, "That's fine, Jonah. We'll have ol' hollow brain carry him."

"C'mon, Micah, yer always teasin' me!" Jessie whined. 

James laid across the ground; his cheek pressing against the dirt as he looked up at the men. He felt dazed and confused. The world seemed to spin around him. He felt like puking. Through the confusion, he noticed a figure walk up to him. The figure stopped, looking down at him.

Micah's voice sounded distant, but comprehensible, "Alright, Baby...this is goodby."

James heard the dreadful clicking of the revolvers hammer and knew his fate was sealed, yet he never felt more ready to die. He was tired of fighting; tired of trying. He was content with his impending fate.

He thought, I'll see you soon, Brother...

James waited for the gun to fire...for it to finally deliver him eternal peace...

...though, eternal peace would have to wait.

"Oh, SHIT!" Micah yelled out, followed by an eruption of gunfire.

James pinched his eyes shut and covered his ears as a sharp pain shot through his head correspondingly with each gunshot. Over the sound of gunfire, and the men's screams, was the sound of whooping from all around. He opened his eyes, watching as an arrow flew past Micahs head and struck Jessie in the shoulder, causing him to drop his revolver. He screamed in pain as another arrow struck him in the thigh, sending him to the ground. From the side, a man rushed at a crippled Jessie, whooping as he held his hatchet high above his head. Before the man could reach Jessie, he was struck in the chest by a bullet, dropping the tomahawk, and himself to the ground.

Jessie looked over at Jonah, who held his rifle pointed at the deceased man.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" Jonah barked. "Get up and fi-" An arrow pierced his neck, cutting him short. He fell to the ground, grabbing at the protruding arrow as he gargled on his own blood; Jessie screamed in terror as he watched. Micah looked back at the other two, cussing as he realized he was on his own.

James closed his eyes, pulling the curtains closed on the gruesome scene that played out before him, and opened them up to another one. As he laid across the ground, he once again thought back to his childhood...back to the days where he would lay out atop of the grassy hills, soaking in the gentle, elegant warmth of the midday sun. Under the light of the sun, he had felt a feeling of importance. He felt as if his life would one day have purpose...to one day do good in his life. He had felt like he was on the grand stage of life and God himself directed the spotlight towards him, bringing attention to a boy who would do great things in the future...who would meet many people and help many more. He wanted to be the light in the darkness. After all...that was his dream. Though, he knew deep down that the light wouldn't always be there, and before long, the spotlight was gone and the feeling of purpose went along with it. Without a feeling of purpose, he began to grow distant, losing faith in the world around him. He grew hateful as a feeling of abandonment won its eternal battle. He then accepted the truth that the spotlight had moved on from him...that his moment of importance had long passed. He was no longer watched...no longer cared for, and so the thought of why he should continue to care for a world that did not return the favor resided deep within him, growing within him until the thought turned into actions. Those actions would eventually take the lives of those who walked in the light. That was the cruel reality of it all. The tragedy of his life would result in the tragedy of others, and that could never be changed.

He was once again brought back to reality, carrying regained knowledge with him. The sound of a cruel world filling his ears and filling his hatred--nowadays that's all it ever seemed to do.

James opened his eyes as Jessie cried out for help to Micah, who fled into the forest; men carring bows and tomahawks chased after him. A man ran out from behind a tree, grabbing the tomahawk off of the ground and charged at Jessie, who cried out as the man swung the tomahawk down at his head.

James closed his eyes. He was sick of the violence, sick of the death; he was sick of it all, but that's the way it was...that was the cruel reality of the world he lived in. The evil outworked the good. Deep down, he wished that things were different...that maybe one day things would be different...that one day, the spotlight would cover the entire world, brining light to the darkness...but for now, in a world so dimly lit, it was hard to traverse down a path of righteousness. A path filled with many deviations promising you many things; things that were tempting; things that would stray you away from the path of righteousness and down a path of temptation, and as you follow this path, it'll continue to grow ever darker until theres no light to be seen and you're lost...trapped within the darkness with seemingly no way out, and what else are you left to do but to adapt to it; to become one with the darkness. 

James knew thats where he had been, and thats where he currently was...

...trapped.

It's a cruel...cruel world, Cowboy.

 

Come and dance with me, Cowboy!

The light from the raging fire illuminated the many men, women and children who danced around it, moving in a ritual-like manner; the clothes they wore suggested they lived off of the land.

Sitting just out of reach of the fire's light was James, who watched curiously. He sat against a tree; a rope tied around his chest and the tree kept him immobile; his hands were bound together in front of him. A few moments prior, he had awakened to the sound of drums beating and people hollering out in excitement. As he watched, he had noticed something; he had felt different...he had felt better. Observing himself, he had noticed that the sleeve on his right arm and his right pant leg had been torn just above his wounds and placed on top of the wound had been a herbal solution wrapped tight by cloth.

As he observed the many people dance around the fire, he heard a sudden, audible rustling sound coming from his right. He looked over in response at a man tied up against a tree the same way he had been. A disgusted look grew across James's face as Micah came to - noticing him in return.

Micah spoke; his voice was filled with confusion and anger, "James? What the hell are you doing here? Why are we tied up? What is going on?"

"Isn't it obvious?" James mumbled. "They captured us." He nodded his head towards the people around the fire. "I was already laying half dead on the ground so I wasn't much of a problem to deal with, and I suppose that you didn't run away quick enough."

Micah stumbled on his words before raising his voice, "Wha- You sonova bitch! If I wasn't tied up against this damn tree...I'd kill you with my own two hands!"

James said, "I guess you're outta luck..." And then, "Well, you never had luck to begin with."

Micah laughed, "You just don't know when to stop talking, do ya?"

James ignored him as he watched the people dancing around the fire change direction and continue in the opposite direction.

Micah continued, "James...I never took you as the stupid and stubborn type..." James continued to stare at the dancing people as Micah went on, "...Why the hell were you making all that shit up before...acting like ya know nothing?"

James remained silent for a moment before speaking up; his focus still on the people, "That's because I don't...or didn't...there's still stuff I don't remember."

"What the hell are you talking about? 

"I was in a crash...I don't remember how it happened or much of what happened prior to it, and for a while up until just recently, I didn't even know much of myself."

"Are you still fucking with me? You better not be fucking with me."

"Why would I need to lie to you with the current situation we're in?"

"Ah...good point." Micah said, looking around. "So what do you remember?"

"Terrible things..." James said. "I remember many terrible things that I had done."

"No SHIT they were terrible...You ran with us after all."

"Us?" James asked. "Are you talking about those other two you were with?"

"Jonah and Jessie? Nah, they were two brothers that wanted part in your bounty...though they didn't know I was gonna get rid of them once the money was mine."

James spoke, "This bounty..."

"Oh, that's right," Micah said. "The bounty was recent so you'd probably have trouble remembering why."

James asked, "Do you know anything about it?"

"Sorry, but you're out of luck. All I know is that whatever you did, it got yourself quite the target on your back."

James sat in silence as Micah continued on, "Ya know, it's about damn time you got caught! Some of us believed it was never gonna happen - Some of us even believed you were the spawn of Satan." He let out a laugh that turned into a cough. "Satan's Baby!"

James kept his eyes on the people dancing around the fire, but kept his ears on Micah.

He thought, Satan's Baby, huh...

"You really are a terrible person," Micah said; his tone had changed. "I mean...we all are, but you were a different type of evil...and you were younger than all of us!" He went quiet for a moment as he dove into his deepest, most vengeful thoughts. "What you did to us...i'll never forget that."

James listened to every word of it.

His eyes suddenly picked up on a figure straying away from the rest...moving towards Micah and him...moving towards him.

The person reached him and stopped.

He looked into the face of this mysterious person as a sense of disbelief dwelled within his mind. Standing at his feet, staring down at him, was Emma Baker.

"Hey, Cowboy." Emma said with a smile across her face, "It's nice to see you alive and breathing!"

He didn't say a word...He just stared, trying to make sense of the scene that took place in front of him. She was cladded in the same clothing as the others she had been dancing with a few moments prior.

"Quick thinking on my part, don'tcha think?"

James pulled his attention away from her clothing and up to her dimly lit face, "W-What?"

"Ya know...getting help from the Natives?" She sounded annoyed; as if he should have already known the answer.

"W-Wha- How did you even-" He was at a loss for words.

Emma began to walk around him, "Nevermind that...let's get you freed."

He could feel the rope tied around him begin to tug as the sound of Emma's efforts gave him little hope of escape. He turned his attention back to the people who continued to dance to the rhythmic pounding of the drums. James listened to the drums beat over and over again, as a strange feeling began to grow inside of him. He suddenly felt anxious; he felt afraid. His heart began to beat faster as the drums pounded harder. He felt uncomfortable; he felt ill. The people continued to dance to the horrid sound as if they were mocking him; as if they were cheering on the source of his agony. The pounding of the drums began to change...It began to morph into something else...Something so different yet so familiar. His hands began to sweat profusely as he clenched his fists; digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands; gripping something that wasn't there. He heard a girl's voice...he heard her voice. She cried out to him but he didn't listen; he couldn't listen because he felt that he had no other choice, and that would cost him...it would cost him another life...It would cost him her...

James was released from the mental torture as the ropes tied around him dropped onto his lap.

"There we go." Emma said with a forced grunt as she pushed herself up.

James looked down at the rope and then at his hands - They were no longer bound.

"You coming or what?" Emma once again stood at his feet, looking down at him.

From his right, James could hear Micah struggling to make a sentence.

"Wha- how- you're-"

James stood up and followed behind Emma. He stared at the back of her head, thinking.

Micah pleaded, "Wait! James! Buddy! Untie me!"

James continued behind Emma, still staring at the back of her head; the drums still pounding. She turned around to face him; a smile rested across her face and her hand stretched out towards him, "Come and dance with me, Cowboy!"

 

Do you remember now, Cowboy?

The morning sun's bright, bothersome light peirced through the trees and into James's bloodshot eyes. He walked next to Emma, who was still dressed in the Natives clothing. She walked with a skip in her step; she seemed happy.

"How are your wounds holding up?" Emma asked, and before he could respond, "It was really kind of them to fix you up!" She continued on, "I wish I could have stayed longer, they were really-"

 James cut her off, "Who are you?"

 "Wha- That was sudden..." She said, letting out a nervous laugh.

 "I remember what happened." James said; stopping in his tracks.

 "You do?" She asked, "W-What do you remember?" She stopped and turned to face him.

 "Not much...Though, I think I remember how I ended up at the bottom of that cliff."

 Emma said, "Oh, you do?"

 James said, "Yeah, and I remember you were there with me when I fell.

 Emma stood in silence; she appeared to James as if she was lost in thought. She finally spoke, "You're right...I was with you when you fell, and just like you, I survived the fall. When I came to, you were still unconscious and I couldn't move you, so I left to get help."

 James asked, "Before we fell...You cried out for me to stop...Why?"

 Emma said, "W-Well...You were in such a rush to save your brother that you were unable to make rational decisions. I was aware of the dangers along that path and the rain didn't help at all."

 James stood still, thinking before speaking up, "Emma...I...I also remember who I used to be...Or who I am...I don't know..." He looked down at his feet in shame.

 "What's the matter? What do you remember?" Emma asked.

 James spoke, "I remember who I was and what I had become...because of my hatred for the world around me..." He looked up from his feet and into Emmas eyes. "...And the people I hurt because of it..."

 Emma noticed the pain in his eyes and asked, "Well...how do you feel about the things you've done?" She was intrigued, eagerly waiting for a response.

 James said, "I hate who I was...I hate the violence I caused to others. The harm I did to those people can never be taken back." Scenes played out within his mind that he couldn't erase. "...For me to take away from others what I so desperately wanted for myself was completely and utterly selfish of me."

 Emma spoke, "The Lord our God is merciful and forgiving...Do you think you're deserving of his forgiveness?"

 James looked up at the red and blue morning sky and then back down at her, " 'merciful and forgiving,' huh?" He chuckled. "I deserve no forgiveness from anyone." He walked past her, feeling her eyes on him. "C'mon, It'll be noon before we know it." ...And after a moment, he could hear her starting after him and he called back, "Hey, what's this town we're heading to called anyways?"

 Emma spoke from behind, "It's a little town along the river called 'Lew'...Heard of it?"

 

See ya, Cowboy.

The sun's harsh light rose above James and Emma as they pushed through the forest.

"The town should be around here somewhere..." Emma said, trying her best to sound reassuring as she searched around. "Err...Ah, there it is!" She pointed.

James looked in the direction of her outstretched hand, and barely visible through the trees was the town of Lew. The town sat, backed up to the river and only consisted of a single dirt road with structures lined up on either side.

"That's Lew?" James asked absent mindedly.

"Yeah, that's Lew." Emma responded. 

James stood in silence, not batting an eye from the town as Emma walked past him.

She noticed him standing still and turned to face him, "You coming? It's almost noon and-"

"Look - you can cut the act...I know my brothers in no danger." James said, looking into her eyes. "He hasn't been in any danger since he passed on." He continued, "...And I also remember what I had done to you..."

Emma stood in silence before speaking up, "So what are you going to do now? Are you going to run away?"

James looked away from her gaze before speaking, "All I've ever done in my life was run...I ran from my problems, and if anyone got in my way, I didn't hesitate to deal with them. It was all for my own well being...I killed for my own well being and there's nothing I can do now to bring them back. What i've done in the past should never be forgiven by any man, or God." James looked back into Emma's eyes. "I'm deeply sorry for what happened." James started for the town, walking past Emma, who stood in silence. He stopped for a moment, turning his head to face the back of hers, "Emma..." He wanted to say something else, but no words were forming. He watched Emma slowly lower her head as she became choked up; tears dripping from her face. 

James turned away from her and fled towards the town. Listening to her cries made him hate himself even more than he already had. It also made him hate the world around him. The world that shead no light to anyone, even for those who had dedicated their lives trying to walk within it. He hated that it was him that wronged her, though he knew that if not him, then it would have been someone else. He could hear her cries become distant as he entered the town. He walked down the road, noticing the few people who walked along it with him. To his left, a man struggled with his horse as it bucked everytime he grew near; the man cursed. James looked to his right where a single wagon rested in front of a general store. Next to the store's entrance, above a wooden bench, James noticed a poster with a man's face on it...with his face on it. He walked over towards it, ripping the thin piece of paper off of the wooden plank it was nailed to. He looked down at the sketching of his face in disgust; below the sketching was his name printed in bold letters, and below it was the bounty.

He thought, Ten thousand...That's it?

From his left, he heard the shop door opened up followed by an audible gasp and a scream. James looked over at the fleeing woman as she screamed out for help. He looked back down at the poster and crumpled it up, dropping it to the floor and sitting down on the bench. Waiting.

James leaned back on the bench, tilting his head up. The curtains were to soon come to a close on his journey tainted in blood and greed. A journey full of running...endless fleeing. He tried to outrun it all but in the end, there was no outrunning himself. So why waste the energy...Embrace it.

He knew there were more like him. He knew the pain would never stop...the suffering would never stop, and until the end of times, there will always be people who will take the path of temptation like he had. Oh, only if the spotlight could cover greater distances...only if it could bring light to all the evil in the world...maybe, just maybe there will finally be everlasting peace. James smiled at the thought.

"THERE! HE'S RIGHT THERE!" A woman's voice cried out.

James raised his hands as a deep voice picked up in front of him. James looked down at the sheriff as he was pulled from the bench. The sheriff took him across the road and to a small, square building where he was brought inside and tossed into a cell. The door squeaked shut behind him.

"I thought it'd be harder to catch ya..." The sheriff said, his mustache twitched. "I didn't think you'd waltz into town looking like horse shit, and take a nap infront of the busiest palce in Lew." The sheriff laughed. "Were ya studying to be a half-wit while you were on the run?"

James sat in silence.

"Ya know, ya almost scared the life outta ole' miss Gardner back there...Ya owe her a formal apology for that." And then, "Perhaps I can arrange that tomorrow morning before you acquaintance yourself with God... or the Devil. Yeah, Probably the Devil...He's more your style." The sheriff walked over towards his desk that sat directly in front of James's cell, and checked the drawer as a look of displeasure shifted the hairs from his mustache upwards into his nostrils. "No more Cigars." The sheriff mumbled as he lumbered his way to the door. He opened the door, turning his head back towards James. "I'll be back soon so don't be going anywhere, Now." He chuckled to himself, pulling the door shut behind him.

The room was quiet. Peaceful. James laid out on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. Thinking, It's finally about to happen...i'm finally gonna get what I deserve...Why am I so scared...I deserve this...You don't have a right to be scared...I'm sure the many people you've harmed were scared...

"James, Is this what you want?" A young, yet assertive voice spoke up from above him.

"This is what I deserve." James said, looking up at Emma who leaned over him, looking down at him.

"You didn't answer my question."

James looked into her green gaze; her brown hair reaching out past her unscaved face. She once again wore her red dress. He couldn't handle her gaze and looked past her at the ceiling. "Of course I'm not looking forward to being strung up, but I know this is what I deserve."

"I wouldn't be the first to say that you do, though whether you believe it or not...I do forgive you for what you've done." Emma said.

"Why?" James asked. "How could you forgive me for what I've done to you?"

Emma brought forth a slight smile before walking backwards towards the wall, where she leaned against it, kicking up one of her red dress shoes. "I had spent quite a bit of time with you, and I watched you change. Who you were over the past few hours was not the same man you had been before going over that cliff. You were full of resentment for who you were and the pain that I saw was genuine." She stared at him, waiting for a response that would'nt come. She continued, "My father told me to never carry hatred for others who've wronged me, but instead to forgive them of their wrong doings for it is God's duty to avenge."

"Your father was a good man." James spoke. "A man better than most."

"Yeah, he was a good man, and deep down, so are you."

"I'm no good man...You should know that."

"You don't see the good in you like I do."

"What good? There isn't any good in me...There hasn't been for a long time."

"You have to discern the evil in yourself to truly recognize it in the world - and when you do, the light will shine within the dark and only grow ever brighter."

James scoffed.

"It's true."

"I don't care what you say...Im still the same piece of filth who ruined your life and tried to run from it."

Emma was quiet as he stared up at the ceiling; he could see her push off of the wall and out of his view. A few moments later, the sound of the cell door squeaking open caught his attention. As he looked up, he noticed the door was wide open and on the other side stood Emma.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Emma said; her hand gripping one of the bars that made up the door.

James hesitated before he slowly pushed himself up off of the wooden floor and walked towards her, stopping as he reached the wide open cell door. 

"It's okay..." Emma said. 

James reached out, grabbing the bar just above where she held it, and pulled the door shut. He looked down at his hand gripping the bar and then up to Emma, who stared back at him through the bars. He could see her forming a smile as she looked down at her feet. She spoke without making eye contact, "I see." She turned around and walked towards the door, stopping, "See ya, Cowboy."

James blinked and was once again alone. He stumbled back towards the middle of the cell where he laid out across the floor, looking up at the ceiling. He thought, She was crying...but they weren't tears of sorrow...

James heard the sound of the door opening up followed by the creaking of the floor boards from the sheriff's heavy footfalls. "Im back." The sheriff mumbled as he struck a match and lit the cigar that rested in the corner of his mouth. "Ya miss me?" He said, waiting for a response that never came. "Ahh...not much of a talker are we?" He said, sitting down in his wooden chair. "That's okay...I'm not much of a listener." He chuckled to himself before starting up again. "The wife hates me." He chuckled again, and once he was finished, "Now, as I was getting my cigars, I heard some talk out there...Some poor sap must have found the wreckage and word of it eventually broke out...It's one twisted miracle that you survived..." The sheriff blew smoke from his mouth and watched as it drifted through the light that peered through the window besides him. 

James spoke out after a moment. "Do you think I have the right to be forgiven?" 

"Pardon?"

James started up again, "...The things i've done shouldnt go unanswered...though do you think i'm deserving of forgiveness?"

"Son, everyone is deserving of forgiveness, but forgiveness doesn't always mean salvation...If you've done wrong, you'll get wronged. That's how things work down here. An eye for an eye. Everything else is left to the big guy up there." The sheriff pointed his chubby finger up towards the ceiling.

"I understand..."

James could hear the sheriff grunt as he pushed himself up and out of his chair; walking towards the cell. The sheriff gripped the bars of the cell, leaning into it. "I'm sure you're aware of the extent of what you did, and I can see the effect it's having on you mentally.  Now, I don't know if what you're feeling is guilt or if you're just downright selfish and want to live on...but regardless of that, some people will still find it in themselves to forgive."

James thought of Emma as he spoke, "Strange, isn't it." 

"Yeah...You could kill the prized horse of a God fearing man, and he'll still find it in himself to forgive you on his way to the nearest stable." The sheriff shook his head before he walked away from the cell and sat back down in his chair, "Say...Are you the one they call Satans baby? There were rumors you were him but I didnt believe it when I heard you robbed that bank. Didnt seem like something he would do." 

James hesitantly nodded his head.

"So it is you then..." The sheriffs tone changed as he leaned foward for a look at him. "...For such a young man to be responsible for all that pain and suffering..." James watched the sheriff lean back in his chair where he would eventually fall asleep. "...What a shame."

James stared at the ceiling till the room grew dark; the sound of snoring keeping him awake. He could feel his heart pounding in anticipation. The image of a noose being placed around his neck as onlookers watched played out within his mind like it was a distant memory. 

He thought, Why the hell did I come here? And why didn't I leave the cell and run away when I had the chance? I'm a damn fool!

He lifted his hands, running his fingers through his hair. The thought began to anger him as he continued to dwell on it. He clenched his teeth as his hands gripped his hair, pulling on it. 

He thought, That bitch...She fucked with my brain...She tricked me!

 "FUCK!" James screamed as he let go of his hair, punching at the floor; his knuckles turning red from the blows. "GODDAMNIT!" 

From across the room, the sheriff woke up from the commotion. "Jesus Christ, Son!" The sheriff barked as James continued to scream out in anger. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He stood up and headed towards James.

James looked over at the sheriff, pleading, "Please! You gotta let me out of here!" James crawled over to the cell door, gripping onto the bars near the sheriffs feat. "I don't want to die!"

"Well that's too damn bad! Now will ya shut up!"

James pulled himself up as his eyes darted around the room, looking for someone that wasn't there. "EMMA! WHERE ARE YOU!" James screamed out. "EMMA, OPEN THE CELL DOOR! PLEASE! I WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE!"

The sheriff's face was a mixture of disarray and anger as he spoke, "What'd you say, Son?"

James continued to call out as tears rolled down his cheeks, "EMMA! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!" He fell to his knees; his hands sliding down the metal bars they had been wrapped around.

The sheriff spoke up again, "You've got some damn nerve callin' out that girls name like that!"

James looked up at the sheriff through tear soaked eyes. "W-What? You know her? Where is she?"

"Boy, ya better watch your Goddamn mouth before I knock every last one of them teeth out of your head!"

"B-But she was here! She was in the cell with me!"

The sheriff kept his mouth shut as he walked over to his desk and grabbed a ring with keys held on it. He turned back around and walked towards James who sat on the ground, staring up at him. The sheriff lifted the key ring and unlocked the door, stepping inside. "You sonnova bitch!" Before he could react, James fell back from a blow to his face. "I'LL FEED YOU TO THE DAMN WOLVES JUST LIKE YOU HAD TO HER!" The sheriff threw another punch. "YOU WONT EVEN SEE THE NOOSE!" He through another and then another until he grew tired. James heard the sheriff panting as he walked out of his cell and once again locked him in alone.

James laid, curled up on the wooden floor; his arms crossed, covering his eyes. He was afraid. His whole body shook in fear. His trembling hands suddenly grew still as they were taken into anothers. His breathing became relaxed as he slipped into a peaceful slumber.

It's almost over...The path is almost at its end...

James woke up to the sound of the cell door squeaking open and the sheriff standing over him. "C'mon, Barner...Were doing this a little earlier than expected."

Everything you've done...

The sheriff pulled James up and out of the cell. They walked towards the door and the sheriff opened it.

Everyone you've harmed...

The sheriff took him down the boardwalk and to the side of the building where a tall, wooden structure sat, waiting for him.

Every life you've taken...

He was led past a few people who were beginning to gather, and up the wooden steps of the structure that led to a platform where another man waited.

It all results in this...

He looked down at the floor of the platform where the other man had positioned him; he could make out the gaps that went around the square shaped hatch he stood on.

One less lost soul in a world ruled by fear...

He watched as the man tied his hands and his legs together before placing a noose over his head; tightening it around his neck.

A boy who only ever wanted to do good for others...

James looked down at the many faces who stared up at him in disgust; hurling insults and shaking their fists skyward.

A boy who felt he was meant for greatness...

"Any final words, Barner?" The sheriff said.

A boy who became lost without the spotlight...

James looked up at the sun's elegant light shining down from above, and couldn't help but smile. 

Though maybe...just maybe there's hope for this lost boy after all...

"I'm found..."

 

Impressum

Texte: KJ Michael
Lektorat: KJ Michael
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 16.02.2021

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