The Inbetween

A short western story about a man seeking redemption

The Man & The Boy

The horse waded through the sandy terrain with a bearded tattered man perched upon his back. The Man, albeit not elderly, certainly bore some age from his appearance. A ragged old wide brimmed Stetson rested upon his head, a tattered old bandanna strewed around his neck, and an old beaten down dark brown duster hugged his body to keep him warm on those cold nights of his travels. He rode through the barren dessert with nothing but his thoughts as he reflected on his past.

He spent most of his younger years living mighty by unconventional means. This man was a gunslingin' outlaw. It wasn't uncommon for him to rob a bank, pull a train heist, or cheat at a hand of poker. He would find not many stepping in his way to put a stop to it. Had they try they would quickly find themselves at the revolvers end of death. Killing was a necessity of this lifestyle he lived. While he was not proud of it, he was certainly good at it. No one had a quicker gun draw.  As his age progressed, as did his lure for honesty. Living a life of killing started to weigh down The Man's heart. The older he got, that lust for the adrenaline that came with stealing had left. All that was left was the memories of the people he had done wrong. This drove him to live as a nomad of sorts. Traveling on the outskirts of the country where he was lesser known. He would find honest work where he could. Herding cows. Working as a ranch hand. Helping folks when he could to earn what money they could offer. It was honest but hard. In fear of people discovering his previous life he always kept on the run though. He made a point to never stay in one place too long.

As he snapped out of the thoughts and memories he was so clearly fixated with, he found he had came upon another town. A big old wooden sign that was clearly broken in half read, Geh in chipped paint. The broken sign reflected the man he felt he was. Not but half a person after all the blood on his hands. He rode his horse in to the town. Itching for a drink to settle down from the ride, he strolled his horse up to a building with a sign in front reading, Pearly Tavern.

A whiskey to drown his sorrows was the only thought he had now as he was tying his horse to the hitch. He started his lumbering old body to the wooden swinging doors to enter the Pearly Tavern only to find a little boy darting in front of him. "Mister! Mister!" exclaimed the little boy as he thwarted the man's entrance. The little boy couldn't have been a shade over ten years of age. He was small and covered in dirt portraying the poverty he most definitely lived in."Hi, My name is Peter. And my daddy is really really hurt and needs a doctor. So I took all the money daddy had kept in his cabinet and the doctor says he needs 5 more dollars can you please help me?" Peter blurted out in a very exacerbated tone. The boy then pulled out a small amount of money from his pocket as to show The Man the money he had already obtained. Before The Man could respond to the little boy a boot came flying across Peter's face from a stranger that was standing near by. The money flew out of Peter's hand and danced in the air only to find it's aerial waltz being interrupted by the grimy hands of the stranger grasping it from the wind. "Thanks for buying my next drink you little piss ant!" said the stranger through a chuckle. The stranger's victory was quickly impeded by the sensation of a cold barrel touching the back of his head followed by the cocking of a gun.

"I don't think you know who I am!" yelled the stranger, "I'm Mara of the world famous Snare Gang. And you've made a big mistake. Friend!" The Man lowered his gun as Mara slowly turned to face him wearing a snide grin. "That's what I thou.." were the only words Mara could get out before The Man fired a shot from his revolver to Mara's foot. As Mara bent down to grab his foot in pain his face was met with The Man's kick as he was launched to the ground.

The Man aimed his revolver at the beaten down Mara who was laying in the dirt. "Whom you are is of no concern of mine." said The Man in a very cool and calm manner. "I suggest you hand me this little boy's money plus $5 for wasting my time. Any disagreements and the last thing you will ever know is the roar of my gun. Friend!"

Mara slowly reached for the money and threw it on the ground in front of The Man. "B*****d!!" yelled Mara as he slowly stammered to his feet. " You just made the biggest mistake of your worthless life. I'll be back with the Snare boys. And I will end you!" Mara waddled up to his horse, leaving a trail of blood that was running from his foot. The Man's revolver was trained on Mara's head the whole time. Not a single strain of sweat even protruded from The Man's head. This wasn't his first rodeo. "I suppose I will be right here when the end comes then." retorted The Man with an heir of sarcasm.

He hunkered down and collected the money to hear little Peter crying behind him. "No more tears son" said The Man as he handed Peter all the money. "Go fix your Pa." Peter dried his eyes and timidly grabbed the money. "Thank you mister. You just saved my daddy's life." said the boy as he was choking back more tears. Peter was very gracious. The Man gave Peter an appreciative nod as he sat down on the steps leading into the Pearly Tavern. He pulled out a rolled up cigarette and a box of matches from his jacket's pocket. "Are you afraid of the Snare Gang coming back?" Peter asked. The Man stroked a match across his boot causing a flame to race to the tip of the matchstick. The flame then caressed the end of the cigarette causing a cloud of smoke to spring from The Man's mouth. "Fear died with me a long time ago. As will them Snare boys." answered The Man. The boy was impressed with The Man's caliber of confidence. If there was any ounce of fear in The Man, Peter most certainly didn't detect it. "Thank you again. Good luck mister." Peter scurried away with haste.

The Man leaned back against the steps. Inhaled back on the ignited tobacco resting on his lips. He breathed out a smoke filled sigh as he waited for the impending storm.

The Boy & The Man

The Man had lived a long life mostly rutted in sin. During the latter half of his life he searched for some sort of redemption from his transgressions. The honest work he did felt good, but nothing filled that void the hate of his youth had crafted. Something about stopping the Snare Gang seemed right to him. Spending his younger years running around with gangs, The Man had heard about the Snare Gang. They were the meanest of mean. The Man did some unruly things, but nothing matched up to what they did. These monsters of men were known to take what they wanted by any means. They raped women and murdered children just for sport. The whole country feared these men and the darkness they planted anywhere they resided. Stopping the darkness that radiated from these men seemed to be the light that The Man needed. With that he calmly waited for the return of the Snare Gang.

He sat there on the steps for what seemed like hours. Breezing through cigarette after cigarette with anticipation. The Man not once displayed any fear, though foresight of the inevitable was there. The Man knew his odds were slim of stopping the Snare Gang. As quick of a draw as he was, he knew they would come in numbers. Death didn't frighten The Man though. With death came a release he was ready for. Vindication would come from him after this, either life or death. It didn't matter to him.

The Man heard what seemed like thunder in the distance. He squinted as he saw a cloud of sand in the distance. As the cloud of sand drew closer he realized it was being headed by what appeared to be no less than 30 men on horse back. The Snare Gang was drawing into the town. The Man took one last puff of his cigarette as he stood up. The cigarette was released from his hand in what seemed like slow motion. The time had come. The Man stomped the cigarette and vanquished the flame it held beneath his boot.

The Snare Gang rode up on their horses. Mara. leading his ruthless army, parked right in front of The Man. Mara's foot was bandaged up from the gunshot The Man had given him as a gift. Mara was consumed with rage as he gave a fiery glare right into The Man's eyes.

"You still thinking you are tough there, Friend." Shouted Mara to The Man. The Man just smirked and stared into what might have well been the very gates of Hell. He wasn't much of a talker when it came time for a gun fight and it was ever apparent that a gun fight was at bay.

The Man was gauging his surrounding in a ploy to formulate a plan. During his quick scanning of the area he noticed something. Peter was standing a far distance off to the side. Peter was seated cross legged with his elbows on his knees and his chin cradled upon his hands. No fear came across Peter's face, it was just a show of intrigue. It looked as if Peter were here to watch stage drawn play or a performance. Confusion over took The Man as to why Peter was here. His father was sick and yet he was here to watch a gun fight as if it weren't anything but a sport.

Mara chuckled as he soaked in the appearance of the boy. "Awful bold of you to be here kid. I'll take just as much pleasure killing you as I will this man" claimed Mara. The Man started to break a sweat. "Hey! Get out of here kid!" yelled The Man to Peter. The boy just ignored the plea and continued to watch.

Mara opened his mouth and began to speak, "Do you have anything to sa..."

The Man bolted his hands to each revolver that were resting in the holsters among his belt. With quick alacrity and deadly accuracy he put a bullet through Mara's heart. The Man was never one to see through overdrawn speeches given by opponents during a duel. In fact, he often found their arrogance to be a perfect way to get the upper hand in a fight. Mara was lunged backwards off of his horse as he plummeted to the earth landing head first on the ground. If the shot to the heart didn't kill him, the broken neck most certainly did.

The Snare Gang was stunned and The Man knew it. He took that juncture to squeeze out as many shots as he could. Within a few seconds The Man had released an array of bullets. Each of them finding a home in eight different skulls. The remaining Snare Gang took no longer time to respond. Before those eight men hit the ground a full arsenal of ammo was fired at The Man.

The bullets rained on The Man hitting him in every direction as a crimson mist blossomed from his back and red painted the streets. His body sloshed against the ground as a pool of blood quickly formulated around him.Time seemed to longer exist as The Man's world started to fade away. He could hear foot steps cultivating in volume as he felt a hand brush against his cheek. Everything went bright, but through the brightness he could see a face. The face was of the little boy who was watching off to the side. It was Peter, but there was something calming about it. Something almost spiritual about it.

Peter staring lovingly into The Man's eyes began to speak. " You have done well my son. While you lived a life of sadness and sin, you also exuded love and kindness. You showed selflessness. For that I can give you redemption. As a saint of the angels, I will now open the gates of Heaven for you." St. Peter kissed The Man on the forehead. A tear cascaded along The Man's cheek and a smile overtook his face as he faded away.

There in the middle of the street laid The Man's body. The pool of blood around that body started to seep out and make a course behind the Pearly Tavern. The blood trickled over to a broken piece of a sign that was left leaning against the side of the building. This was most surely the other half to the welcome sign that was in the entrance to the town. The sign simply read enna.

Reviews

[Sam]

This is awesome, I love how you did the ending.