I gasped back into my own consciousness. My hand moved from the spot on my head where the young man's had been gashed to my neck and back again. As usual, it took a few moments for me to resolve who I currently was and that the pain wasn’t my own. I focused.

I should’ve known simply by the way Dufaux treated this boy when he dared to speak in his dining room that he’d have no problem being abusive. But this? Dufaux had walloped his servant so hard he'd killed him. Over a silver bowl the kid hadn't even stolen.

I had.

Maybe it was guilt that sent me fuming, or perhaps it was everything that'd happened, but I swept out of that room so fast I knocked Cecil against the door frame. Around a corner, Dufaux waited by a row of wine barrels. He had one guard with him, one of Cecil's Pinks.

"Mr. Crowley, you're alive!" Dufaux exclaimed. His skin glistened with a sweat he hadn't worked hard enough to build up. "What happened out there? Did you get them?"

I bull rushed him, forearm across his throat, and forced him back against one of the wine casks so hard the plug broke off and dark purple liquid glugged out. For all his size and bluster, in the wake of my wrath, Dufaux folded like a bad poker hand.

"What are you doing?" Cecil yelled.

"Is he insane?" the other Pink said. I heard them both shuffle for their weapons. I didn't care.

"Have you lost your mind?" Dufaux shrieked.

I ignored them all, knowing they couldn't do anything to me anyway. Grabbing him by his back collar, I dragged him across the room, found a chair, then forced him down into it.

The look on Reginald Dufaux's face told me everything I needed to know. That this oversized shit-stain was a coward.

"You were right, Cecil," Dufaux said, panicked. "He is with them. Shoot him. Shoot him now!"

I turned to Cecil and the other and fixed them with a glower so icy they both froze. Then I whipped around. Dufaux tried to stand, but I pressed a palm against his chest. He started leaning, so I got in his face.

"You wanna know where that precious silver bowl went?" I drew one of my revolvers. I didn't aim it, just held it upright, clicked the cylinder open, and emptied a silver round into my gloved palm. "Right here."

Dufaux stared at the bullet, baffled.

"I stole it," I clarified for him since it seemed fear had his brain twisted. "Melted it down so I could try and save your pathetic little kingdom. You killed a boy over a goddamned bowl."

"Him?" he said. He didn't point or even look toward where the kid was.

"Say his name."

His mouth opened, but no words came out. He tried again to the same end before he just shook his head. The bastard didn't even know who was keeping his goblet full all day.

"Figures," I spat. And I really did. Right in his face. If he wasn't incensed before.

Dufaux edged forward, but his shoe dipped in red wine, and he regarded it in disgust before shifting his position.

"You're going to need more than bullets and bravado if you plan to come at me,” he hissed. “Cecil, cuff this man and toss him in a cell."

"Your sheriff already tried," I said.

"Cecil!"

The Pinkerton's partner moved, but Cecil gave him a look. I struggled to get a read on him until he spoke.

"The boy back there? That was Tosahwi," Cecil said.

I nodded.

"You killed him?" Cecil asked his boss.

"Oh please, it was an accident," Dufaux scoffed.

"Accident?" I spoke, soft. "His skull was split open like a sack of melons, neck snapped.”

“These people are mine to—”

“What happened—did the kid recognize that tattoo? Did he know too much? I can’t imagine this was all about some dinnerware. And if you did do that to him over a fancy dish, I can only imagine what you've done to those outlaws to set them after you.”

"Cecil, I demand you remove this man at once!" Dufaux bellowed.

"What did you do, Dufaux?" I asked. "Why does that tattooed marksman hate you so damn much."

"I don't know! Cecil, you damn fool. Do something!”

"You know, the marksman has a name too,” I said. “They all do. Otaktay, Ahusaka… I didn't catch the lady's name, but I bet you know."

I looked over at the Pinkertons. The stranger looked confused about what to do, but Cecil didn't. He watched, wanting the answer as much as I think I did. Without the promise of a healthy gold mine outside to stuff his pockets, I guess he decided to stop being a patsy. Or maybe, I'd read the hard-nosed gunman wrong from the start.

"Come on, Dufaux. What was her name?" I pressed.

Dufaux snarled. "Dyani."

"Dyani. Pretty. Well, she's dead now, and her blood is on your hands. How much was it worth, Reggie?"

"Don't you dare disrespect me.”

I backhanded him just like he did to Tosahwi, only I held back. A little.

"You—"

I raised my hand to strike again, and he shut up. I caught Cecil’s gaze in my peripherals and looked back.

"What happened in the mine," he said. "I've never seen anything like it." He waved to his partner. "We'll be outside, Mr. Crowley. Take your time."

It took a few nudges to get his partner moving, but eventually, they both retreated upstairs.

"Cecil, get your ass back here!” Dufaux yelled. “I won't pay you. Cecil, you damn nigger!”

Probably best not to insult a man whose service you still needed. Dufaux's cries rightfully went unanswered, leaving him alone and face-to-face with me. He broke into laughter, trying to act tough, but, to me, it was pitiable.

"Impossible to find decent help."

"Money can't buy everything," I said.

He groaned. "That's the damn truth."

I paced across the room, gun in hand, dragging the muzzle along wine barrels just to hear the thunks.

"So, are you going to kill me?" he asked.

"I'll admit, shooting you would feel good." I turned to him. "I already spared one man's life who deserved to die today. But that ain't why I'm here. Your town's a damn shooting gallery, Dufaux. Your house, your money is burned. Your mine is collapsed."

Dufaux went pale. "My mine is what?"

"Caved in, all over, as if a thousand sticks of dynamite were tossed in. It'll be a year before you can dig it out. It's over. This dream of yours."

He looked like he was gonna be sick as he clenched his chest. I worried he might have a heart attack and get the easy way out.

"All of that happened because those three natives hate you enough to call the Devil's fury down upon you," I said. He probably thought I was speaking allegorically. "Now, judging by what you did to Tosahwi back there over nothing, I'm guessing you're every bit as hate-able as I figured. So, tell me, what was it? What'd you do?"

"Am I supposed to remember every quarrel the dregs of this town have with me?" Dufaux said.

"This ain't a quarrel. It's a blood feud."

"Civilizations rise and fall like the grass in summer. Every one of them wants what they can't have. Is that my fault?"

I rolled my eyes. Faced with his mortality and the man was still playing games.

"You should've been a poet, you know that?” I said. “Now you gonna talk or what?"

Dufaux went to speak again, and I sensed it was gonna be more of the same, so I slung what was left of my lasso around his throat. Whether its powers still worked or not while broken, God’s judgment through it didn’t affect a normal man like him. That didn’t mean I couldn't exact my own brand of judgment.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Before he knew what hit him, I tossed the other end over a ceiling beam and pulled. His body stretched out so just the tips of his toes were touching the wine-soaked ground. He clawed at his throat.

"I can keep asking nicely, or this can go another way," I said. "You've lost enough today. You want your life to follow?"

I pulled tighter so not even his toes touched the ground. As he gagged, he shook his head furiously.

"You sure?" I asked.

He nodded just as fervently.

I let go. He hit the chair, but it slid out from under him, and he crumpled to his knees.

"How do they know you?" I asked.

Dufaux took a few seconds to catch his breath. Then he spat at me. I gave the rope another tug for good measure until he was left hacking.

"Okay, dammit! Ahusaka is the chief's son."

"Apenimon? That was his name, right?" I asked.

He nodded. "For generations, the chiefs were given that marking you saw on Ahusaka's back. Brutal, sick, and twisted, tattooing mere infants. Vile heathens, scarring babes."

My eyes drifted to the room where that boy lay slumped against the wall, dead by Dufaux's hand. I think he saw. His face blanched.

"I… I thought he was dead," Dufaux said. He was talking about Ahusaka, though.

"You thought wrong," I replied.

"Clearly."

"So, what? He blames you for his father dying? I heard you at the fair, like a crooked priest, standing on the steps of the church, revering those who once had this land. You told me Apenimon got sick. So, what was that, a lie?"

"Greatness is built upon such tales," he said. "When it comes to the past, everyone writes fiction. But no. I didn't lie."

"Bullshit." I tightened my grip.

He stuck out a hand in protest. "I didn't."

I sighed and lifted, heaving his body up and choking him again.

"I can do this all day," I said.

The cursed harmonica hadn't worked on Otaktay, though I was pretty sure I'd have no problem using it on Dufaux. But hoisting the sack of shit and then watching his body crash down was too much fun.

"Who are the others in the Trio? Why do they hate you?" I asked. "Tell me, and I won't kill you."

He coughed between every word. "I… don't… know..."

"C'mon, Dufaux. What'd you do? Beat them all too? Huh? Was it fun? Tell me!"

As I went to choke him again and leave him dangling, he finally blurted it out. A truth as awful as I suspected but hoped wasn't true.

"Yes! I did! I killed them!"

I let him all the way down until he was lying on the floor, sloshing through the spilled wine. Tears ran down his big, flushed cheeks. I strode over quietly to gather the broken lasso. I slowly recoiled it and looped it through my belt. Looking down at him, I felt pity for about two seconds. After that, I just wanted to see him pay.

I knelt, gun dangling over my knee, not aimed at him, just the subtle threat that it could be.

"Killed who?" I asked.

"All of them. Anyone I needed to,” he said. “Anyone who couldn't see the wealth of this land for what it was."

"The chief. Your so-called friend. You killed Ahusaka father."

His strength gave out. His chest deflated, and his head dipped. That was all I needed to see, then it all came together.

"He wouldn't see reason," Dufaux said quietly.

"There was no sickness, was there?" I asked.

"I left everything behind to come out here in search of gold. Would have died flat on my back under the beating sun if one of their springs didn't splash me. It wasn't the red men who found me, you see. It was water. As if Moses struck the stone. God, tickling my cheek. Water, out here amongst the cacti and the crusted dirt, and even more, something shiny beneath it. A golden miracle. Only then did they show up and help."

"Some way to repay the debt," I said.

"Oh, I did. Told them about our cities and our technology. Showed them what they could be. And they offered to share their lands in exchange for whatever I could ship east from my familial estate. I sacrificed all of it to start Revelation. I would die for this city."

"It's a whole lot easier to die for something than to live for it."

"You don't understand," he said. "They had no idea what they were sitting on. Gold, Crowley. You've seen it. But Apenimon claimed this was some breeding ground for a big mythical bird."

"And of course, you couldn't just respect them and their beliefs, huh?"

Dufaux stuck one of his big, fat fingers out at me. "I wasn't about to let some fairy tale rob me of my fortune. Rob all his people too, for that matter. Stubborn as oxen, those redskins can be. They see nothing, like their eyes are attached to their scrotums instead of their brains! This is a new world, that needs new sensibilities, and I tried to show them that, Crowley, I truly did. But it was my God-given destiny in this frontier. I was born to create this paradise."

I'd met all sorts of men in my lifetimes. I'm not sure I'd ever seen anyone spew so much nonsense with such zeal. By the end of his speech, I'm pretty sure Dufaux thought I was convinced he was the hero he envisioned himself as.

"How'd you do it?" I asked bluntly. "How'd you wipe out a whole tribe?”

"Not all of them. I give the rest of those former savages up there a good life," he proclaimed. "I give them purpose. Work. A reason for being."

"You're still killing them today!" I pointed at the room where Tosahwi's corpse lay cold.

"I thought he stole from me. But no, that was only you. Hypocrites. You are the bane of this world.”

It really was everything in me not to beat this man's face into a pulp. However, I knew that would just make me no better than him. My actions led to a bad thing. Add it to a long list of regrets in my unnaturally long life. But it wasn’t my fist that did the bad thing. Over a trinket.

"How did you kill them?" My voice was trembling.

"My family had made a small wealth in Crescent City in rat poison, thallium by name,” Dufaux explained. “A trade I had no desire to partake in. I put some in the wine they purchased from me. I wasn't trying to kill anyone. Just a pinch here and there, enough to get that damn chief sick and delirious enough to sign this land over to me in full when I offered some real, western medicine instead of their mumbo jumbo.”

"Snake oil," I accused.

“No. The real thing. I had every intention of healing him. Believe it or not, Apenimon really was a friend. Just a misguided one."

"Well, hell, Mr. Dufaux, I can't begin to think what happens to your enemies. So, where'd it go wrong?"

"Their witch doctor thought something was off and laid the finger of guilt upon me. So, I shot him." He said it without emotion, like he was commenting on how hot it was in July. "He didn't die, though, as you could see."

It took me a second, but then dawn's light shone bright.

"Otaktay." The ferocious Yeti had been a healer before turning to the Devil.

"Yes,” Dufaux confirmed. “And he took the chief's infant son and boy's guardian, Dyani, and they ran. A woman, the boy's protector. Can you believe that? The savages let their women fight," he added with a snicker. "I tried to find them for a while. Spent a pretty penny on bounty hunters like yourself until it was no longer worth the coin."

"Poison," I said under my breath, still pacing. The coward's weapon.

I'm not sure why I was surprised, but a man Dufaux's size, you expect something more… brutal, more hands-on. My heart broke for that tribe. Plied with gifts and fineries, then done-in by them all because their leader decided to trust a stranger in a world where you can't trust anyone.

"When he lost his son, Apenimon blew his top," Dufaux went on, without even needing me to prod him. "Who would've thought the savages would love drinking so much? I couldn't swap out the tainted wine in time. My word, it feels good to finally let this out."

He let out a long, exasperated sigh.

"By his last hours, he was no longer himself. But he signed those damn papers before he and all those close to him died. In his last, he gave me Revelation Springs, from the water to the gold. So, you see, I'm within my legal rights here. This town is mine by his own hand!"

By then, Dufaux was on his feet again. He was no threat. I watched him like a man watches a dog eating its own vomit. I was disgusted by him but intrigued. How had this man lived all this time without taking a bullet to the head?

"And no run-of-the-mill, rinky-dink bounty hunter is going to come here and steal what's mine," he said. "Do you hear that? You got the truth you came for, and you'll die with it. You won't ever see a dime from me."

I saw something drop from within his sleeve into his grip. He thought he was being sneaky, but I let him have his fun. He must've palmed the pocketknife from somewhere on his person while he was on the floor writhing. A trickster in true form.

He lunged and stabbed me right in the side. The blade sank through my flesh, between two ribs, and punctured my lung. I'm sure he thought his little surprise attack would kill me. And it damn well should've—but I stood tall and proud and stared him right in the eyes as he pushed that little knife deep as it could go.

He gawked down at the weapon, then back at me.

"How?" he gasped.

Removing the blade, he stabbed in again, then a third time.

"W-w-what are you?" he stuttered.

"The Hand of God. How do you do?"

I ripped the knife out of my side with no blood of my own and let it clatter to the floor. He stumbled back in abject horror and tripped onto his rump.

"You devil!" he howled. "You monster. What curse is upon you?"

"In this case, it's a gift," I taunted, stomping toward him, ready to wring his neck.

"You wouldn't dare kill me. You can't. You need that bounty. You… you crave it, I can see. You're no man of God. You're a man like any other. Weak. Pitiful. Corrupt."

I drew my revolver and watched him flinch. Watched him believe with all his soul that this was the moment he would die. Fear coursed through his every feature. Paralyzed him. He clenched his eyes shut.

When I pulled the trigger, he yelped and I'm pretty sure he pissed himself. But the shot wasn't meant for him. I turned and put round after round into all those barrels of expensive wine, spilling yet more of that precious liquid he'd used to cripple an entire population.

He sobbed, hunched over by my boot.

"Just end it…" he whimpered. "Everything's ruined. Just end it…"

I shook my head and lifted his chin with the warm barrel of my gun, forcing him to look me in the eye. "No, Dufaux. Live with it."

Then I left him there in a pool of red liquid as it ran through the cracks of the stone and over his hands. It wasn't blood, but the metaphor would have to suffice.

I knew the truth now. I would still save the world from the threat of a possessed Yeti gaining uncontrollable power, even though I now knew Otaktay’s rage was justified. I would finish what I'd started for the White Throne. But I wasn't gonna do it for Dufaux or all his gold. No way.

This was personal in more ways than one.

With Dufaux out of the equation, it was high time to visit with another murderous bastard on the other side of town who might know more about where Otaktay and Ahusaka were fleeing to. And I'll be honest, while I'd been looking forward to another run at Ace, my meeting with Dufaux left a bad taste in my mouth.

None of this was right. The whole town was built on lies and deceit. Its very name, an insult to the people whose blood stained its dirt.

Cecil was waiting for me right outside.

"Don't worry," I said. "He's still alive. Mostly."

"Good," Cecil said, kicking a chunk of wood that crumbled to ash. "He owes me my last dues. And backpay for Billy's family. Then, I think it's time we scoot on out of here."

"What about the outlaws?"

He puffed a cigarette, smoke escaping with his words. "Whatever they are, it ain't worth it for me. We can find work. May not pay as well as Dufaux, but—"

"Do you know?" I cut him off.

"What?"

"About what really happened to the Piasa tribe."

"No. And I don't want to. But I've always had suspicions. That's the job, though, ain't it? You serve who pays you, and you don't question them lest you find yourself in a shallow grave."

I nodded. He wasn't wrong. Doing that had been what led Ace to kill me in the first place.

"Maybe we should," I said.

"What?" he replied.

"Ask questions."

Cecil exhaled. "Maybe. I was wrong about you, Mr. Crowley." He stuck out his hand. "It was good fighting with you, at least."

I shook it. "You sure you don't want to finish this? I could use a man like you by my side."

"That big fella stomped his feet and caused an earthquake. He froze iron with a touch. Whatever he is, this ain't my battle. And whatever you are…"

His words hung.

"Right," I said.

How could I argue with that? I was fighting a war Cecil couldn't understand—that I barely understood—and I wasn't some powder-wigged president who could draft him into my army. I was just a lowly Black Badge who'd already got one accomplice killed in Dale.

"Fair enough," I said. "Good luck to you."

Cecil tipped his hat to me in response and started to walk away, then stopped.

"Oh, by the way… If Sheriff Gutierrez gives you any trouble, you tell him you know about him and his cousin.” He smirked. “Works every time.”