CHAPTER 22 – SEVERAL DEADLY SINS

January 3rd, 1862

Civil War

Wild Card Cass

For months he chased the war. Over and over, he stopped battles from being overrun and cleared out advantageous outlaws that were using the war as an excuse to rob and cheat. Wild Card would often lead militia into battle. It was not until he truly realized what he was doing did he know who fought along with him. Daniel Davis, along with Wyatt Kaleb Troy IV, and Raleigh MacPherson (Kid Colt's young father) all fell to confederate muskets under Wild Card Cass's banner. Never once did he get what he wanted, not even in victory.

Wild Card Cass did not want to take FreeLander's word for it, but he followed his directions all the same. He felt he could not return home to his wife before he knew their two boys were safe. He would follow FreeLander's telegrams and instructions to the letter, in hopes of bringing them home.

It was not long until Wild Card began to second-guess this government stooge. FreeLander's intentions seemed to have ulterior motives. Wild Card gave up on the war and running down the likes of such notable most-wanted outlaws such as Tanner Crow, Mad Dog McCreedy, and Blackheart Quade. He took the trains as far as he could to Dodge and found the same red bar in which he signed the contracts. Wild Card looked all around for FreeLander, but he was not in the bar's main room. The bartender pointed out the stairs in back leading up to the office. Wild Card Cass stormed up to the office and kicked the doors down.

AUGUST 10, 1865

DODGE, KS

Marshall was still so infuriated. He wanted to punish Cass. He couldn’t bring himself to kill him. Old man Cass was not evil. He might not be good. But Marshall felt in his heart, that Wild Card was not an evil man. And he trusted his instincts. He relinquished the grip that wrath held over him along with his buck knife against Cass' neck.

"I'm sorry, Marshall," Wild Card said falling to his knees, exhausted, defeated,

"But soon… you’ll know everything."

"Well, I'm tired of waiting," exclaimed Will as he ran out of the dark sheriff's office, down the street to a glowing red bar.

Peyton's pride had been called forth. A woman from his past, whose life was a testament to Blackheart Quade's fame, stood before him, demanding a toll to continue on his journey. He knew what the true Blackheart Quade would do, and that would be to pull his guns out and put them against her head, trading her life for the information he desired. But this was Peyton she was dealing with, and he was truly a changed man. Peyton took out his guns and put them on the counter; lifting his hands off of the twin charcoal black revolvers and stepped away.

Ira leaned forward and kissed Emma. Her eyes had been closed but opened in a much anticipated surprise. She paused for a second before she said good-bye to all her inhibitions and commitments and embraced Ira. They tossed around the bed and peeled each others' clothes off. He pressed himself against her bare chest.

Ira made love to Emma Riley, their in Dodge, with no regrets. In one moment, they existed together in eternal bliss, and then it vanished. It was not long until the daze began to wear off. Reality encroached upon them. They knew what they had done. Ira held Emma in bed, as they laid there naked under the sheets, both silently thinking about betraying Will.

"Do we tell him?" Ira asked, unable to come to a decision himself.

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"No." Emma answered as if it should have never happened.

“He practically told us to do it.”

“We can never tell hiim.”

Ira pulled away from her, over to the window. He tried to get up. Ira shook his head and plopped his butt back down on the bed, too light-headed to stay standing. He picked up his modified rifle and peered down the scope out the window. There, he saw Marshall and Wild Card running down the road, right down the center of Main Street in broad daylight. He followed the path they were on towards a bright red saloon.

The sun was so bright behind it that Ira could not make out the bar’s name. The brightness caused Ira to sway back. When did he get drunk? He gathered himself together with a deep breath and focused. He saw Will standing out in the road right before its entrance. A big figure stood at the door. Ira could tell his brother and the big man were talking, but there was no way he could not hear what they were saying.

Their hands hovered over their guns. Ira had no desire to load his weapon and cover Will. He watched on with apathetic eyes, with his brother's wife lying naked in bed behind him, as Will faced mortal danger on his own outside. Ira relied on fate to answer for Will's life. Ira would then succeed where Will failed on their journey and claim Emma as his own. 'This,' Ira thought, stewing on the corner of their bed, 'is the destiny that was owed to me.'

The figure Will was talking to steps out of the doorway, breaking the shadow. Marshall and Wild Card both stood behind Will. Soon the entire town would be watching. Will went to shoot and Steel Coat Kildare swung his coattail around, deflecting the bullets. When he turned back around, he was wielding two sawed-off double barrel shotguns. He drained both chambers into Will's chest. Ira screamed from inside the room. He dropped his rifle and fell back into the bed.

He was shaken by Emma and opened his eyes.

Was it all a dream? He didn’t feel weird anymore, a tell-tale sign of the dreamworld.

"What happened?" he asked.

"You called out and then fell back next to me," Emma explained.

"What did I say?"

"Will."

Ira jumped out of bed and got dressed. He slung his gun-belt around his waist and tightened it. He strapped his rifle over his shoulder and picked up his hat. It was an old dark blue hat with a brown leather lace around it. "Stay here," he told her, "and wait 'til I come back." He left the room and went down the stairs. Ira exited out the bar and grabbed Peyton along the way. "Where are your guns?" Ira asked him.

"I had to trade them."

"For what?"

"My salvation."

They ran down the road as the day was finally upon them. The early morning dew had faded away. It was now getting hot and dry. People were beginning to move about all over. "Where are we going?" worried Peyton.

"A bar!" Ira yelled as he hurried Peyton along.

"Not this way," Peyton reluctantly hesitated.

Ira asked him what was wrong. The bar that he was taking Peyton to was built over the land his orphanage was once on. The last thing Peyton wanted to do was go in there. But foolish was it, for him to think fate had anything else in store for him. And who was he to defy fate? He continued running behind Ira as they came up to Wild Card, looking over Marshall who was holding Will's hand.

“No.” Ira cried out.

There was blood all over the sandy floor around Will. Ira was confused. But it was a dream? He dropped down beside his brother. He could not speak, for the blood was drowning his lungs. He just stared up at Ira and gripped his hand tightly. His pupil emptied and his body stopped shaking. His hand fell loose and stayed clenched at the same time. Ira let go of his hand and grabbed his torso lifting it up. Ira cried on his brother. He could not believe the despicable and repulsive actions he had partaken in the moments leading up to his brother's death. He was a monster, a pig. Ira was the worst kind of brother, a selfish betrayer.

Ira opened his eyes and saw Steel Coat Kildare walking back into the bar. He stood up. Marshall and Peyton rallied behind him. His grief was focused.

"His envy got the best of him," Wild Card said as he brought them to the doorway, "As did your greed, and her lust."

Ira's anger shifted. He could not believe the words that had just come out of the old man's mouth. And suddenly, he felt like he had just awoken from a daze. His brother was dead on the ground, his murderer...just up ahead. For the time being, Ira cleared his mind and forgot about his dastardly acts. He had to. He looked up at the name of the bar as he led them all in. It was called, "The Inferno."