Story Time (work in progress)

Retribution in the Old West

For the past week, Isaac found himself battling a recurring nightmare. He envisioned a trail that appeared to be endless, and a dim light which granted but a small gap of visibility within the confined space. Each time he found himself on his horse standing before the gorge, its features remained intact, despite the dream having altered in detail each night. He recalled its rich chestnut coat livened by the sun that shone upon it, its groomed black mane and forelocks which sat on its blaze marked face, and the reigns which he held tightly before he spurred his horse into a sprint, through the valley. Over and over in the dream as he rode, Isaac looked above to the edges of the rock structures that stood on both sides, but by the sixth dream, specific aspects of the scene were blurred and unfamiliar. The laugh of Amos cut in and echoed, causing him to violently toss and turn in his bed. After his body had settled, the gorge had reached its end, and evened out onto dusty plains. Isaac emerged as he had before, aware of his surroundings and taking careful steps to where he pulled his horse to a standstill before a steep, but manageable drop. He observed on the landing below, what came to be seen as a camp, with men carrying crates from an overturned carriage, just beyond the tents. Isaac knew these men but in his dream they appeared as ordinary thieves, all until the bearded man surfaced from within one of the tents. It was Amos. Isaac already knew the flaw in his next move when he retrieved his Winchester from the holster on his back and aimed, where upon firing, he foolishly gave up his position. Amos’ instincts switched to that of a keen animal, he growled as he grabbed his revolver and held it up, directly at Isaac. By now, Amos’ form had changed as Isaac imagined him, as if like a shape-shifter, but his face and the intensity of his eyes remained.

            The low droning laugh of Amos rang in place of the confrontation that took place in the first night of his dream, and it caused the sky around him to collapse. The faint outline of Carina came into view as Amos called for her, and Isaac’s body contorted again on his bed – his mind adjusts and skips forward to where he was on his horse, back through the valley. The crackling of gunfire seemed distant as it could no longer cut through the bellowing laugh that continued to haunt. The scent of gun powder was still much a part of the dream and permeate Isaac’s senses, as did the sensation he felt when the bullet pierced his upper arm. Amidst all of this, Carina’s face appears in the centre of his vision, showing no remorse. Isaac, unable to cope any longer, shook his head from side to side in an aggressive fit, hoping to break from his horrendous ordeal.

Isaac awoke, panting. He checked the bandage wrapped round his upper right arm, which now presented a fresh patch of blood. He scrunched his face and clenched his left arm as he released an internal scream of agony for his wounded area. The numbness that was the rest of his body remained, despite the iron wiring on his bed that dug into his sides. Across from him on his makeshift table (a wooden board supported by two worn barrels) lay a letter from Carina, where for days it had been left ignored. At first he merely saw her as a clue, necessary for understanding the circumstances of his brother’s murder, but predictably his feelings had developed and he had fallen for her like many a man before him. Despite her betrayal, Isaac still found something captivating about her. It was the way she handled herself, her mannerisms and character, which managed to attract the dull-minded and intelligent alike, but Isaac could not bear the thought of becoming involved with a woman so manipulative; he also could not live knowing that she may have ultimately been the cause for his brother’s demise. If he was going to make his next attempt on Amos, he figured it best she not be around to cloud his judgement. There would be no room for error.

With this in mind, he brought himself to his feet and struggled to steady his balance against the alcohol, which continued to linger from the previous night. After five minutes and a somewhat personal victory, he drearily made his way over to his cabinet where from its place; he picked up his aged grey duster and covered himself. From a chest on the floor of the cabinet he retrieved his holster belt, strap, bandolier and weapons. A smile extended when he caught sight of his Colt .45 and Winchester Rifle, and with these and the rest of his equipment secured on his person, Isaac was ready to head out – but he was caught off guard by a familiar object. It was his lawman badge, clipped to a crumpled up vest amongst a pile of clothes beside the chest. Partially exposed, the badge was made visible by the morning sun which crept through the gaps of uneven logs that formed the cabin, and caused the polished brass to glimmer and momentarily blind him. It dawned on him that it had been several months since he last served his duties. He turned his head and scanned the room as if under the impression he was being watched, and when satisfied he was alone, he buried the vest deeper within the clothing.

On his table beside a fog-glassed bottle of near empty whiskey, and beneath Carina’s letter, were the documents and accounts of witnesses collected with regard to Amos. The one thing Isaac didn’t regret was snatching them before he left; determined they weren’t going to be sought after, given Amos’ reputation. Amos aggravated Isaac with the ways he influenced so many to do his dirty bidding, and the methods he used to survive. The mere thought brought a twitch to one side of Isaac’s face. A second later, he snapped out of his state and focussed again on the documents, which were scattered on the table. It took some effort for Isaac to compile them in their original state, and once finished, he placed them in his bag and attached it to the saddle of his horse. With his route planned, Isaac left the solitary cabin as he first found it, abandoned, and unappealing to any foreign rider. He unhitched and mounted his chestnut horse from its post, stroking its crest on the left in an act of assurance, before making his way down from his point.

The trail that led from Isaac’s cabin onto the wider road was long and treacherous, and it was partly the reason why he hadn’t bothered securing the cabin and his belongings. The cabin featured on the height of a mesa, once with many other cabins, but erosion over time had worn out parts of the hill and small landfalls prompted the occupants to leave. All that remained were three cabins, an outhouse, and a hitching post. The path that divided Isaac from civilisation was steep, narrow and winding; overlooking the terrain and towns which existed upon it. As Isaac carefully made his way down, he occasionally caught glimpses of the distant towns spread out on the land below, gradually taking shape. The descent became problematic with his recovering arm, and it was the first time he rode the horse along the trail since he was wounded, instead of guiding it on foot. The most experienced of riders even in full health would have had little hope of making it to the peak of the hill. Isaac managed the trek with complete faith and patience in his horse, and his reward for the 45 minute struggle was seclusion; something he was willing to gamble his life for, any day.

As he reached the base of the trail, Isaac found himself headed in the direction of the town he formerly discarded, toward the plateau that appeared in the distant horizon. The conditions weren’t anything out of the ordinary. The heat of the sands far ahead made the view seem weak and faded, and Isaac experienced dizziness at the sight of the uninspiring landscape, along with the effects of the previous night. He was thankful his stallion covered distance with ease, and despite the scorching sun (which was enough to disorient most worked horses and their idle riders), Isaac’s steed was hardly bothered and scarcely signalled exhaustion. The road carried on in the one single direction for most of the day, with near no change to the landscape. When thoughts about the Sheriff began to pervade Isaac’s mind, he found himself increasingly anxious about whether his plan to make amends would fall apart. Long periods of travel beared a burden on his being, and he suffered particularly under journeys that weren’t engaging.  He much preferred distractions and changes to the land as he believed them somewhat necessary to maintaining his focus and remaining on guard.

* * *

As evening approached, the sky evolved into an eerie mix of dull oranges and intense purples, and Isaac was still a great distance from his old town. He pulled in for security at a smaller town on the outskirts to rest; with hopes he could enter the town at dawn, catching the Sheriff before the townspeople awaken. He tied his horse and tried to conceal his limp with a casual stride as he made his way into the small lobby of the inn. The innkeeper’s attention was devoted to the newspaper before him and as he dealt with Isaac, he barely raised his head, nor did he stare directly at him. Isaac was hasty in obtaining a room key and making his way to the room since he figured the innkeeper wanted to be left alone.

The building itself was reminiscent of an adobe structure. Isaac ran his fingers along the walls and discovered the texture was mostly smooth; as the mixture of sand, water and clay had provided, and it kept the heat of the day contained within, allowing Isaac to succumb to his fatigue. The room was quaint and somewhat homely. Furniture was placed along the edges of the small space, in attempt to mask the walls of the room that showed signs of wear, from where the structure had weakened under a heavy roof. Living conditions were a significant improvement over what Isaac had been accustomed to in recent months, and although a strong stench of manure came through the window from a barn adjacent to his room, he saw past this, appreciating the room as shelter from wild animals. Wolves and coyotes often stealthily travelled in packs and patrolled the dirt tracks waiting for lone, unsuspecting travellers. He wouldn't dare face these vicious animals while they were at their most ready and with the upper hand. Isaac headed for the bed positioned in the corner of the room and laid his body down, where he immediately noticed the comfort of the mattress, which eased his weary being into slumber.

Well rested and ready to leave the inn before dawn, Isaac sat on the edge of the bed, head down, contemplating his likeliness of convincing the Sheriff to work with him. Isaac’s decision to reject the law in response to his brother’s passing was surely disrespectful to the Sheriff, and a great effort would be required to rebuild the partnership. The former deputy knew it wouldn't be an easy task, but it was the only way Amos would see an end. Isaac proceeded out onto the deck of the inn and retrieved a packet of chewing tobacco from within his pocket. He took a whiff of what remained and realised it was going stale. He obtained a small handful and his horse watched as he placed the tobacco evenly along the inside wall of his cheek. Gently, Isaac began to chew the tobacco, and avoided directing the substance down his throat. After four spits of the juice that had gathered, the tobacco lost its flavour and he spat the entire thing. The foul taste satisfied and relieved him of his worries. Isaac approached his horse and took note of its coat, which hadn’t been cleaned since his last encounter with Amos. Its right stifle and shoulder showed markings from where it grazed itself along the side of the gorge when Isaac was shot. As Isaac mounted the horse, his foot accidentally dug into its stifle and this clearly unsettled the horse, causing it to buck and flail about furiously. Isaac instinctively settled his whole self on the saddle and grappled the reigns, mustering all his strength to bring the horse into submission. He petted its cheek before he commanded it back onto the road.

 The night was nearing its end and Isaac was approaching the town he once called ‘home’. The sky was bleak and appeared as a watercolour mixture of blues, slates and steel greys, spread unevenly as blotches throughout the heavens. The wolves and coyotes began to retreat to their safety and could be spotted in the distance, howling at the infernal moon. The cool air gradually became more bearable as the sun resumed its duties, firstly by adding a thin layer of scarlet to the base of the horizon. Within minutes the colours dispersed and revived the dull sky in a flurry of wavy streaks and splashes, and it all came into view as a private show for Isaac, the only man present to acknowledge it. With a kick of his spurs, his horse jolted back to life and he continued onward – the outline of his figure obscured by a hefty trail of dust left behind him.

The buildings and stores he once frequented began to take shape as he approached the town. The track had widened to accommodate the riders, wagons and carriages that often passed through the settlement. As he steered onto the main road he was alerted to the presence of the Sheriff, who stood leaning against a post, outside his office. Isaac trotted towards him and as he reached the Sheriff, Isaac halted and lowered his head to gaze upon him. The Sheriff engaged Isaac briefly with a sigh of relief, then turned his head, and began towards his office.  Isaac dismounted and hitched his steed and started to follow, evaluating all that surrounded him. Before his entry, he spotted a familiar figure disappearing behind a building, further down the road. Isaac paused for a moment, and then continued to enter, where he found the Sheriff seated in a chair, awaiting his company.

‘Look who finally decided to show up.’ spoke the Sheriff.

‘Yeah, well I’ve uh, come to uh, apologise you know, for the way I left.’

‘Apologise!? I can’t belief you have the audacity to return here thinking a simple apology will free you of all the sinister things you have done! Have you for one second thought about the repercussions of your actions, you worthless piece of crap!?’

            Isaac was taken aback at this point. He’d never stop to think his vigilante behaviour could be perceived as destructive to the Sheriff’s eyes. After a moment to compose himself, Isaac responded:

‘Hey, now I realise my actions may have been out of line, but I’d be damned before I was labelled anything even close to ‘sinister’.’

The Sheriff fired back:

‘Hah! You never cease to amaze me boy. So you went after Amos didn’t ya’?’

‘Bout a week ago...’

‘You wanna’ know how I knew that? Because Amos and his gang tore through this town, attacked the townspeople and even kidnapped one. How do you think that shows up on a Sheriff who doesn’t even have a deputy to assist him!? You don’t care about anybody but you and you only took this job for your own fame and glory. Forget about upholding the law, you’re so bent on killing Amos that you’ve completely forgot what you were fighting for in the first place.’

The Sheriff was right. Isaac tilted his head toward the ground, removing his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead. There was no use in arguing, Isaac thought, and putting his hat back on he walked toward the entrance where he stopped.

‘I can’t do it alone no more, and you know that.’ Isaac spoke in a low tone.

‘Well, you've brought this upon yourself. I recommend you have a serious think about how you approach me next time, especially if it’s a favour you’re after.’

‘What do you propose I do then?’

‘Start by finding that Carina woman. You and I both know her connection to your brother and Amos.’

‘Yeah well I thought she was gonna’ be of use, but I only ended up with a bullet to my arm.’

‘Isaac, she’s been round these parts recently. If you think she can’t be trusted, you’re gonna’ have to get past it. I still think there’s something she knows and you gotta’ persuade her to tell you, I can’t guarantee anything from myself. Remember, you have a lot to make up for.’

            Isaac grumbled as he got on his horse and made his way down the wide and empty road. The figure that escaped him as he entered the office was Carina, and she was in the vicinity. His decisions would need to be carefully chosen. Carina was much like Amos, she could evade her pursuers often unnoticed; her understanding of the land granted her elusiveness. Carina was going to serve a purpose, yet Isaac was hesitant to find her. He felt his emotions surge at the thought of her, and knew her assistance would only end up damaging his task. He left the town behind him once again, and he was determined to return with a valid reason for the Sheriff to accept his plea.