3Freedom is another drunken night. No master to obey. No woman to cry on her shoulder. Suddenly, an urge, caused by simplest of reasons, as when one looks in his pocket for the pieces of metal he will use to buy the poison he will drink and finds none, the predicted response is to go against the nature of man and do the four letter word that at that point seemed more like a curse. W – O – R – K.
He was a bounty hunter, sometimes, even if he didn't find much pleasure in it and wasn't that sharp of a shooter, the reason being that it seemed more dignified than being a rancher again, 13 years apart and 600 miles away from the little piece of nowhere he escaped when that life seemed rightly so to be a dead end. On the sheriff's office, he found nothing but paper and paper, but one small piece, worn and old, on the corner, got his attention.
ETHAN RODRIGUEZ – CATTLE AND HORSE THIEF
120 DOLLARS
On the drawing, a man at worst in his late 30s, with a slight beard, frowned upon him.
- What do you have on this one? The boy asked, with the poster in his hand
- If I was you, I'd ask around on the south side saloon, a lot of his people there – Informed the sheriff, while pointing to his wrist with his index and middle finger.
The boy entered the saloon. There were no reactions, so he calmly crossed the hall and asked the man in charge of the drinks, a strong, middle-aged man, with a short but black as coal hair, about Ethan.
The man spat on the ground
- He must have drunk here over 500 times, and didn't pay me once
- Why did you keep pouring?
- He was thirsty.
- Do you know where I can find him?
- No – The man replied, in such a harsh tone that it became clear that he did know where he was, but he, as sure as the skies were blue, would not tell.
The boy left the saloon
Just as he crossed the door, an individual approached him, dark hair, dark eyes, dusty clothes.
- You asked about Ethan, didn't you? He runs a small ranch now, on the road to Laredo, 25 miles to the town, near the border.
- You don't have to thank me, just say that Emílio paid his compliments when you see him - The man said, grinning.
It was 1 and a half day on horseback to the ranch, and since it was early night, the boy decided to leave immediately. As he rode out of town, the almost indistinguishable and drenched in shadow faces stared at him, almost as if they knew what he was going to do, and it made them sick.
On the first night, 5 hours after leaving, he laid his precarious equipment and slept while staring not at the stars but at the empty dark blue canvas of the night sky. It was very early morning when he woke, and the cold made his teeth chatter.
The ride that day was unusually calm, the boy only ran across two people, and they did nothing but share a quick and polite glance. The vistas could have been beautiful, but he paid no mind to them, and time flew by.
It was night again. This time, the boy didn't stare at anything, just closed his eyes and fell asleep. It was still a bit dark when he emerged out of his sleep, but that was taken as an advantage of some sort, since it meant the arrival at the ranch would happen while it was still bright.
Time flew by even faster than before, almost as if it was unfolding in a different time plane, and when the sun suggested it was just a couple of hours after midday, the boy firstly laid his eyes on the ranch. It was in a surprisingly good state, freshly painted. Upon entering, he saw a man sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of the ranch house, gazing at the ground, and slowly approached him
- Emílio paid you his compliments
The man removed his eyesight from the ground and stared at him. His hair was whitening, and there were many wrinkles on his face, he couldn't have been more than 40, but his eyes suggested he had roamed across the desert for 100 years and was doomed to roam for 100 years more.
- I am here to take you
- Where?
- Town
- Do you know what they have for me in town? – The man replied, with a voice that sounded weak and a bit pitiful
- The noose?
- Yes, the noose. For some cows and horses.
- A punishment for a crime
- I am not going – Ethan said, with a tone of voice that made what could be a threat sound like a pleading
- You are – The boy sounded unyielding, even inhuman
They stared at each other. Ethan swallowed.
- Can I at least get my gun?
The boy nodded and Ethan went inside the house for 20 seconds before returning, his revolver in his trousers. They stood in front of each other. There were no steps, no rituals. Ethan went for his gun, so did the boy, but faster. A shot was fired, and Ethan lied on the ground, with a bullet in his chest. He whispered unrecognizable sounds, but after half a minute stopped, dead. The boy picked up his body, put it on his horse, and on the way out, crossed his eyes with a woman and a small child, who watched him as if he were the Angel of Death, before immediately stopping eye contact. While leaving the ranch, the boy looked back and saw the mother and daughter frailly holding each other hands, and it made him feel as if an anvil was placed over his chest, so he stopped looking.
As he rode back, time didn't fly by, but dragged, every step the horse gave felt like a needle entering his brain, and with every sudden move Ethan's head would beat against his back, which began to happen so frequently that the beating slowly turned into a sickening melody. The boy didn't even know anymore how much time had passed after leaving the ranch, and he began to feel as if something very wrong was stirring deep in his guts, and it only stirred stronger.
The boy stopped at the roadside and barfed, before turning his horse 180 degrees.
After a couple of hours or minutes, he arrived back at the ranch, the woman and the child were now sitting on the porch, and they watched the boy with fear on their eyes. He got on his feet, and gently placed Ethan's body in front of his wife.
- I'm sorry ma'am – The boy muttered, with that apologetic tone of voice that could make the strongest of men sound like a child. They didn't say a word.
He turned, now back on his horse, left the ranch, and stared at the horizon which was darkening by the minute. There was another night to sleep and another day to face.