Chapter 7:

Warning: This chapter contains a pretty gruesome scene.

Murphy Flint sat behind his desk, loading up a revolver. It was around 4 o'clock and the court case had just come to a conclusion and with disastrous results.

That traitor, that damned traitor, Tex, Flint thought. In the corner sat his cousin, The Redhead, looking out the window. Where Flint's face showed great concern and anger, his face showed no sign of emotion at all. Flint banged his flat hand on the desk, as he had done so many times.

''I can't believe this!'' he shouted. He didn't have to add anything more. All men present understood what he meant.

One of the men said: ''Can't believe Tex did that.''

The other guy said: ''We gotta take out that son of a bitch.''

Flint had loaded his gun now and laid it on the table. He put his hands in his hair. Everything was ruined. Ruined! Because of that bounty hunter and because of that traitor Tex. The situation had become unrecoverable now. At first, Flint had thought he could bribe and talk his way out. Especially with that lazy fool of a Sheriff Avery.

As if he could read Flint's thoughts, on of the two guys said suddenly: ''What about Avery all of the sudden?''

The other guy nodded. ''Yeah, like somebody suddenly lit a fire under his fat ass.'' he replied. They both laughed.

Flint didn't hear them talk, but thought about his current situation. There were no options but one now. One way out for them. But it would get messy. Very messy.

A few hours earlier...

Avery unlocked the cell door with his keys. The Bounty Hunter stood up from his bunk and stepped outside. Finally, after being locked up a few days, he could walk further than the five feet the bars of his cell allowed. He stretched out a bit and groaned softly. Avery locked the cell door behind him and replaced his keys in his pocket. His other hand went to his other pocket and produced a silver watch on a silver chain. He glanced at the timepiece before replacing that too.

''Five minutes until the court case begins. Let's go.''

Isaac had already left for the courtroom (the classroom during working days) to keep an eye on Flint. Avery had sent him there for another reason too. He wanted to speak to The Bounty Hunter in private without his eager deputy around.

''Sit down for a minute.'' Avery said.

The Bounty Hunter was a bit surprised by the firmness in Avery's words. In the last couple days, while he had time to observe Avery's speech, he had noticed that Avery's voice had had a slight tremble while he was speaking. That little tremble was absent now. Ever since he had heard of the death of that poor peon,Juan.

The Bounty Hunter sat down in front of Avery's desk while Avery himself dropped himself on the chair behind it.

Avery sat down behind his desk, opposite The Bounty Hunter. He was tired and he looked tired. Black rings were showed under his eyes. He had hardly slept that night and the only thing that had kept him awake that day had been cup after cup of strong, black coffee. He had had that the last few days, ever since this whole business with The Bounty Hunter and Flint and the death of that peon. Avery couldn't recall his name, but the moment he had heard that another person had died had made something snap inside him. He had felt a small pang of anger when he had heard the news from Isaac. Another man had died under his watch. Even though, he maybe wasn't the most active or lawful sheriff throughout The East or The West and even though Flint paid him off, there was a limit. Not that only the killing of the peon had made him feel like justice had to be done. The only other time he had felt that pang of anger inside him had been three years ago, with the case of Betty McFerguson. Betty, who had just become seventeen when she had died, had caught the eye of the Redhead, Flint's cousin. The brute had hung around her like a fly around a turd and had overloaded her with gifts and declarations of his love for her. Betty, who was going to marry her first, and only, love, Clinton McCall, had politely turned down the Redhead's advances and had told him she was going to get married. Wrong call.

The next night, the Redhead had assembled a small group and they had ridden for the McCall farm, just outside of the town. The Redhead had called Clinton out and gunned him down in front of his terrified parents. Then he gunned down both of the parents and the ranch hand, who had ran out with a rifle in his hands. After everybody was dead, he and his crew had set the farm on fire and after spitting on Clinton's dead body another time, they had ridden away, heading back to the city. In the city, he had walked to the house of the McFerguson's and he had kicked in the door. He gunned down old McFerguson as the man came down the stairs to investigate. The man's body had slid down the stairs, thumping. The Redhead had climbed the stairs, stepping over the dead body and had kicked in the door of the bedroom door. There, Mrs. McFerguson had been cowering next to the bed, praying for her husband after she had heard the shot. He had pulled her down the stairs by her hair, dragging her outside for the other guys. Then, he went to Betty's bedroom. This time, though, he softly opened the door and approached her slowly. She probably had heard her mother's screams outside as she was shot over and over again by the crew. The gunshots had echoed through the streets that night and everybody had heard them, together with the aroused yells of the men who fired the shots and the agonizing screams of a dying woman.

The Redhead had walked up to Betty and had smiled at her. Still smiling, he had told her the demise of her fiancee and his family. He had told her about how her dad's body had thumped down the stairs. He had told her how he had spat on the corpse of Clinton and how he had burned down the farm. And when he had finished telling her everything, he told her he loved her. Then, he drew his revolver and blew her brains out with a single shot.

He had slowly walked down the stairs to the guys and they had gone to the saloon for a drink.

The next day, Avery had received an extra bribe from Flint, but no matter how high the bribe was the small spark of anger had stayed. And when he heard of the death of the peon, the spark had become a little flame and the following days, the flame had become bigger and bigger, leading Avery to take action for the first time in his career as sheriff of Goble City.

Judge McKinney rested his bulk down on the small chair behind the desk. For a moment, the chair cracked and it seemed it wouldn't hold him, but the cracking stopped and the chair remained intact. Aloysius McKinney was the owner of McKinney's Dry Goods and part time judge of Goble City. A position he carried with the greatest care and pride. McKinney was well aware of the great importance and responsibility he carried, even more aware than the rest of the townsfolk was. He surveyed the room he was in from the chair, which belonged to the local teacher, Mr Gannigan, who was also present, sitting at the back of the room. McKinney saw Murphy Flint and his lackey's sitting on the front seats on the right side and Sheriff Avery, his deputy, Isaac, and the stranger sitting on the left. The seats behind them were filled with men and women from all around town. McKinney saw Mr Jenkins, the owner of the local general store. Well, in reality Flint was the owner and he received 70 percent of the store's income, but officially Jenkins was the owner. McKinney also saw Mr. and Mrs. Bernbaum. Mr Bernbaum was the owner of the bank. Well, again, officially he was. The real owner was once again Murphy Flint who received a big chunk of the bank's profit.

The difference, though between Bernbaum and the other businessmen in town was that Bernbaum was the only one who cooperated with Flint completely voluntarily. He was the only one who came by with Flint's payments himself. That little weasel, McKinney thought to himself. The next moment a thought surfaced in his head. What if the honest townsfolk were to do something about Flint and his gang? McKinney wondered for a second, but suppressed the thought almost immediately. He was not a superstitious man, but sometimes he imagined that everybody could read his thoughts. Including, no, especially Flint. And if Flint would only notice that somebody even thought about crossing him, that brute of a cousin of his would pay that person a little visit.

Sunken in his thoughts, McKinney didn't notice that the room had quieted down and that everybody was looking at him.

''Hey, Judge. Wake up!'' somebody shouted.

McKinney looked up with a start. ''Uhm, yes. Excuse me.'' he said. ''Alright, we have gathered here today.'' he paused. ''After a most regretful incident, which left one of the citizens of this great city dead and multiple wounded.'' Another pause. ''The accused, who gave up no name, sits before us and I ask of him: Do you admit your part in this?'' McKinney asked.

The Stranger stood up and stood there, almost completely still. While there was a atmosphere of tension was present in the courtroom, the stranger stood there being the epitome of calmness, like the eye of a wild storm. He opened his mouth, but his stillness remained. ''I do not deny the shooting, but...'' he paused for a moment. ''I claim self-defense.''

A roar of laughter came from Flint and his men, all but the Redhead who started shouting: ''You bastard, you fired the first shot. You fired the first shot! You started shooting.''

Murmuring rose in the courtroom as the Redhead, held down by two of Flint's men, pointed his finger at the stranger and shouted all kinds of insults and curses at the latter.

McKinney was banging his hammer on the desk, hoping to gain order and Avery was shouting that he was gonna arrest everybody who didn't shut up. Not like anybody listened, of course.

The Stranger looked even calmer now, standing in the middle of the commotion and looking at McKinney who still tried to gain order in the courtroom.

The Bounty Hunter was looking at the judge holding the hammer in his huge fist, making the hammer look small as it banged on the desk again and again. From his left ear he could hear the Redhead shouting all kinds of curse at him and from his right he heard Avery threatening to arrest everybody who kept shouting, while behind him he could hear the rest of the people in the courtroom murmuring. After a few minutes the noise settled down and even the Redhead seemed to have exhausted his vocabulary of bad words. Here and there there was some whispering and some people tried, and failed to, point fingers discretely at either the Bounty hunter or the Redhead. It took almost fifteen minutes to calm the roused crowd down and another ten minutes to resume the session. McKinney continued.

Flint was happy with his cousin's outburst. Even though, he had fired the first shot, he seemed completely convinced himself that the stranger fired first. Some good acting, Flint thought. This, the witnesses and his last trump card would make a watertight case. The Stranger would be hanging in a tree this afternoon.

McKinney waited until the Redhead had calmed down. You couldn't just tell a man like that to calm down, you had to wait for him to do so. His hand slipped down in his pocket and brushed past the roll of bank notes in it.

Finally, the final witness was produced. The doors were opened and the witness stumbled in, escorted by two men on both sides of him who supported him. The guy looked as if he would fall down on the ground without the extra support. One of his arms was in a cast. The men escorted him to the witness chair, chucked him down into it, turned around and left the classroom again. The man was pretty heavily bruised and had a black eye. The man, who had been dropped on the chair rather badly, dragged himself into an uptight position and looked into the room. McKinney started asking him questions.

''What is your name, sir?'' McKinney asked.

''Joseph Walker, but everybody just calls me Tex.'' Tex' voice was a bit hoarse as if his vocal chords weren't functioning properly.

''And what happened to you, Mr. Walker?''

''Well. I was, uhm...'' Tex paused here and frowned as if he had a hard time remembering what he wanted to say. ''Assaulted.''

''And by whom?''

Tex pointed with his good arm to the stranger. ''By that man, sir.''

''Please tell the court what happened.''

''Well, we was going to apologize to the man, because we'd had a little something bad that afternoon with him. So we enter his room and he hid, y'know. So I stick my head outta the window and he grabs me and throws me out.''

''And were there any shots fired.''

''Yeah.''

''Did you see who fired first.''

Tex opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Mr. Flint had instructed him to say that the strange, that bounty hunter, had fired the first shot and that they had only fired out of self-defense. He had wanted to, but thinking about what had happened again made Tex realize something. That Bounty Hunter could've killed him twice now. He had had the opportunity to do so. But he hadn't. If Tex would now witness against him, the man would definitely end up with his neck in a noose, hanging under a tree. Tex never had been that much into the whole killing and extorting business. He had never even shot a person dead. He had used his knife a few times and he had used his fists, of course. But the thought of really killing a man, a person he didn't even know, was something completely alien to him. He hesitated about continuing his story. His thoughts flashed to his youth, and he remembered the time his dad had called him over. His dad had been an honest farmer and at first Tex had aspired to become just like him. His dad, one day after working hard on the fields, had just finished the fireplace and he sat down in front of the little fire. He said: ''Joey.'' that's what his dad had always called him. ''Come sit with me, sonny.'' He patted to the spot next to him. He had sit down there in front of the fire, next to his dad who always smelled of earth and who always wore checkered shirts. His mom used to joke that dad was a Golem, like from the children's stories. The Golem, that monster, brought alive from mud and clay to exact revenge on it's creator's enemies, but in the end turned own it's creator itself.

But to him, that smell brought only good, no bad.

His dad had put his arm around his shoulder and said to him: ''Sonny, there are a lot of different people in the world, you know.''

''Like us kind of people and the cattle folk?'' he had asked his dad.

But his dad smiled and shook his head. ''No, the cattle folk and us, we're the same kind of fools. No, I meant that there are a lot of good people in the world, but also a lot of bad people.''

Tex knew that he was talking about in his mind, but he couldn't bring it into words.

''Are we good?''

His dad had laughed. ''Most people say we are. Most people say that you're a good boy. I think you are and so does your mother. But now everyone in this world is good, unfortunately. Lots of bad people. Lots of bad people.'' his dad had muttered. He had looked at him and Tex had never seen his dad, a cheerful man by nature, look so sad.

''I- I just want to say to you. Be good. Always be good. Don't let bad people ever get to you.'' his dad had finally told him after a few minutes. Then, his dad had hugged him, embracing him firmly.

A week later he was dead. Shot in the head by an unknown man, just outside Flint's saloon. His mother had passed away not much later after that. Died from a broken heart, the doctor had said.

That left young Tex, eleven years old at that time, alone in, and angry at, the world. Why did his family, his loved ones, have to die so soon? Now he had nobody. The only family that he had left, that he knew of, was an uncle who lived far away in Eastfield, the Capital. His parents were buried, next to each other, in the graveyard and a lot of people attended the funeral. After the funeral, two man had come to him, both young and in their twenties, and both with red hair. He knew them, of course, everybody in town did. They Murphy Flint and his cousin, called the Redhead. They had been really friendly to him and Flint had offered him a room in the Saloon and a job, working for him, in exchange for ownership of the land that used to be his father's and was now his. Tex had said yes.

So he had come to live in the Saloon and for some forgotten reason people had come to call him Tex, instead of Joey as his dad had called him. The job that Tex had to do for Flint was simple. He had to visit the shopkeepers and farmers around town regularly and he had to remind them of their obligations to Mr. Flint and if they didn't like being reminded, Tex should use some more drastic means of reminding them. That went alright for a while, until one night. The last few days, the Redhead, Flint's Cousin had been talking about only one thing: A certain girl by the name of Betty McFerguson had caught his eye. He claimed he loved her, if he was capable of such a thing, but she didn't love him, she was going to get married, to someone else. To Clinton McCall. Tex remembered how he had been in the saloon, playing cards with a few other men in Flint's employ. He had heard shouts come from Flint's office and at one point, the Redhead had smashed open the door and stumbled down the stairs, either drunk or out of his mind from anger. He gestured for Tex and the others to come with him. Tex had a feeling about what was going to go down, but ignoring an order from the Redhead was a sure way to get yourself a bullet in the head. So he had stood up from the table, as well as the other men, and he had followed the Redhead outside. They had mounted up and had ridden away. Tex´ feeling had gotten worse as they neared the McCall ranch.

They had dismounted just in front of the ranch. They had stood in a single line, the Redhead a few steps ahead of the others.

The Redhead had opened his mouth and he shouted: ''Clinton McCall! Come out, you son of a bitch!''

After a minute or so, the front door had opened and the young rancher stepped outside, rifle in his hands.

''What do you want, Redhead?'' he had asked.

The Redhead had said nothing, but drew his revolver in a flash and fired.

Clinton stumbled back on the ground, a gaping wound in his chest. There, he lay, spitting blood as he screamed and held his hands on his chest, near his wound.

Screams were heard as Clinton's parents came running out, looking at their dying sun.

The Redhead's revolver fired twice and both parents sank down to the earth. Dead.

The Ranch hand was dismissed soon after that and the Redhead had thrown a burning oil lamp through the open door, into the house. He had looked at Clinton's dead body and spat. A sliver of saliva ended up on the dead man's face.

Then, they had ridden back into town, away from the burning ranch. The Redhead was laughing all the way, as were the other men. All, but Tex. Tex had remained silent.

Back in town, The Redhead shot Mr. McFerguson and had thrown Mrs. McFerguson out for the others. All the other men's revolvers had fired. All but Tex'. Tex' revolver had remained silent.

The Redhead had come down and they had went into the saloon for a drink. For Tex it was multiple drinks. That night, Tex downed two bottles of whiskey and a few shots of gin. Drunk, he had stumbled back to his room and had fallen asleep. That night, he vowed he'd find a way to destroy the Redhead and Murphy Flint too if he could.

Now, an opportunity to do so was presented to him. It had come riding into town in the form of a Bounty Hunter.

End of Chapter 7