When the man had encountered his mark it had been early morning, and now dusk was quickly falling on the barren wasteland. From the saddle of the brown mare he now rode, which he took to calling Argo, the man could see a small alcove in the steep hills to the West. The high walls of stone and dirt would provide adequate shelter from any winds that could arise during the night and help conceal him and his bounty.
He settled quickly into the small earthen glade. He dismounted Argo and stretched, enjoying the feeling and sound of his joints cracking after the long ride. He unsaddled Abby and laid down the body of his mark a couple dozen paces away from camp. When he approached Argo and began slowly unfastening the taught straps of his saddle, the stallion whinnied and rose on his hind legs in objection. The man leapt back to escape being crushed by the horse on its way down. After the commotion, Argo snorted and pawed the ground. “Not comfortable with me yet boy? That’s alright, take your time.” The outlaw carefully put out his hand to pet the stallion, which he allowed, and let him roam and graze the tall dry grass while he set about collecting kindling for his fire. He got the fire going as the last remaining shreds of warm light vanished beneath the horizon, replaced by the dim light of the moon and chill winds of the desert.
The man slowly and methodically placed kindling into the campfire so that it would not expel much smoke and betray his location. Once the fire was ready, he reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a bundle wrapped in a faded blue bandana and tied with a strand of rawhide. Inside the bundle were two rabbit haunches he had procured earlier in the day, which he now skewered and placed over the fire. He fed the fire and evenly cooked the meat, then sat in silence with his meal. As he ate, he focused on his chewing and the sounds of the horses nearby.
With his meal done, he wiped the grease from his face and watched the smokeless fire as it writhed and licked the air around it. From his bag he produced the jar of ash and uncorked its top. He poured a small pile into his hand and began to dust it over the top of the fire, handful by handful. The ash would kill most of the flame, but leave the kindling burning so that he could stay warm during the night without revealing his whereabouts.
The man always hated the night, and for good reason; he’d been in his fair share of raids under cover of nightfall, both as an attacker and a victim. He knew the power of the night and how it emboldened all manner of men and monsters, even the ones in his head. During these hours of darkness, when there was nothing to occupy his mind but the drone of crickets and sounds of his own breathing, intrusive and unwanted thoughts wormed their way into his mind. He tried to focus on the light of the smoldering embers and how they pulsed and crackled, but they only further reminded him of the countless nights he had spent traveling, of the life he had left behind. It only reminded him of Jeanie.
His last moments with her had been bitter-sweet, but they had made him the man he was today, and for that he was grateful. Everything he had been doing for the past eight and a half years had been for Jeanie, and soon, he hoped, she would finally see that. He had sent vague letters during that time hinting at bouts of luck and fortune that had helped speed him along his path, but she never wrote back.
It was the seventeenth of April when he left. For what seemed like endless months he had been working as a farmhand wherever one was needed for whatever wages they would offer. More often than not, he would end the day with nothing more than an aching body and a pocket that was two dollars heavier. While he plowed and herded cattle for his meager earnings, Jeannie would tend to their casita, wishing only for their happiness and peace of mind for her betrothed.
Occasionally she would teach children from around the nearby villages and settlements, for she was one of the few people for miles around who actually knew her letters and numbers well enough to transfer that knowledge. Together they were able to survive, but only barely.
The morning of April seventeenth, just as the sun was rising over the distant hilltops, the man had arrived at Matthew Stoltser’s farm to begin his day’s work when he saw good ol’ Matthew leaning against the gate that surrounded his property. Usually Matt would have already been in the fields, probably an hour into the working day before anybody else showed up, which made his presence at the front gate that much more troubling. When the man got off Abby and approached Matt, he could see a tired and sad look on his face; the landowner was a bit shorter than he was, and with the sun to his back, Matt’s face was perfectly visible within his shadow.
“Sorry to say this partner,” the landowner said, “but wages are gonna have to be cut again. The damn Governor keeps raising his taxes and this dry spell we’ve had ain’t doing any favors for my crops. Times are tough and I’m stretched thin enough as it is without these government leeches on me. I try to run an honest lot here, you understand that, right? And I know you’re an honest and hardworking man, and I’d happily pay you what you’re due, but I just can’t afford it at the moment.” Matthew’s gaze turned to the ground as he began wringing his dry, calloused hands together. “But I know you’ve got that girl of yours at home and you need to provide, and I wouldn’t dare send you away with nothin’, so, uhm...” A look of embarrassment spread across Matthew’s face as he looked up and said, “So, uh, for the next week or so, would you be willing to take home a chicken a day in terms of payment?”
The man just stood there for a moment. He couldn’t remember what he said next, or if he had said anything at all, but the look on the landowner’s face slowly turned from one of embarrassment into one of horror. The man didn’t recall much of his confrontation with Matthew Stoltser, but he did remember the soreness he felt in his swollen, bloody knuckles as he rode back home.
The argument with Jeannie afterwards had been a long one. He couldn’t stand to live another penniless day in a hovel while worse and weaker men than him robbed him of his earnings and fed it to even worse and weaker men behind a desk somewhere. Who were they to sit high and mighty while he toiled day in and day out, barely providing for the family he couldn’t afford to start? For two years they had been promised to each other, but in that time he never was able to buy her a ring. No charm, no bracelet, no necklace, no earrings, not even a pretty Sunday dress. He had had enough. The man had been thinking about his plan for a few weeks at that point, but had never brought it up to Jeannie because he was afraid of the answer he knew she would give. The time had come though, and he could wait no longer.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Honey, listen to me. These men have nothing, and we have even less than that. Staying any longer would be like trying to draw water from a dried out well. You want to know what that bastard Stoltser tried to pay me with this morning? A chicken. A god damned chicken Jeanie! A man can’t live happily and provide for his family when he’s living on handouts like that.” He let out a long sigh to regain his composure and took her gently by the arms, locking eyes with her. “I’ve been thinking of a way out. You gotta listen and not say anything until I’ve told my piece, okay? I want you to hear me out entirely before you start making judgements.” She hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Like I said, there’s nothing for us here. The only solution I see is to move on, somewhere further out west where there’s more work to be had, better work. The only problem is, we don’t have much to go on, and I’m not too keen on the idea of dragging a beautiful lady like you across the countryside. You’re not gonna like this, but I think you should go and stay with your father for a while until I get something set up out there.”
Her eyes widened and mouth fell open. “Josh, I don’t think I-”
“Please darling, please hear me out.” She let out her own long sigh and let him continue. “I’m not sure when, but we will get out of here. We’ll go out to Nevada somewhere, hell, maybe even Mexico. Anywhere will be better than here.”
“But how? What are you going to do?”
He smiled and gave a slight pause at that. “I don’t think I quite know yet. I’m going to make my own path, make my own fortune, and make this world work for me. I’m not gonna tip my hat to some son of a bitch who doesn’t deserve it anymore. I won’t live off of scratch and chickens, Jeannie. I’m not going to live in a world where I spend day after day hating my life and myself, and I don’t want you to have to live with that either. I’m going out to live my life the way I see fit, taking what I can from the world then taking a little more. I’ve earned it, we’ve earned it.”
Not a word passed between them for a long time after that. They studied each other’s faces deeply, both knowing it would be a long time before they would be together again. Jeannie slowly took his hands off her shoulders, squeezed them, and said, “Joshua Richard McAllen, you are the most insane creature I have ever met in my life,” The man’s eyes became downcast and sullen. “You expect me to just wait around while you go and do what? Living some fool’s dream and prancing around the desert like some sort of desperado? What if something goes wrong? What if you die? Then where would I be, huh? Answer me!”
The man dropped his head and stared at the floor, “Well… I guess you’d be better off than having to live with a worthless, no good bum for a husband.”
Her hand whipped across his face and left it red and stinging. The physical pain soon faded, but that strike left a mark on his mind that he would not soon forget. As he massaged and worked his jaw, Jeannie’s eyes overflowed as her face twisted in a torrent of emotions. Holding back sobs, she regained enough composure to croak out, “Fine then. If you want to go play outlaw so bad, then god dammit go ahead! Leave!” She pushed away from him and turned to a simple dresser near their bed. She whipped open the top drawer and began to feverishly rip her clothes from their wooden confines and throw them onto the bed behind her. Still choking on tears she said, “I will go to my father’s, but under no agreement with you. You can go and have your fun, and once you’ve got your palace in Mexico, or wherever your old beaten horse drops dead, then you can come and collect me.”
The large stack of clothes that had been building on the edge of the bed tottered, then fell to the floor with a dull thump. Jeannie stopped and looked down at her boots, letting her tears fall in silence for a few moments. Finally she said, “I can’t live on promises and dreams, Joshua. I live wondering if you’re dead in a ditch somewhere, or if you’re strung up on a tree, or laying with a knife in your gut because you decided you wanted to live in a fantasy world.” She turned to stare him in the eye, her face hard set and shiny with tears. “I’m pregnant Josh.”
She let the statement hang in the air and didn’t dare to say more, afraid that she would break down in more tears. The man only stood in shocked silence, unable to put his maelstrom of emotions into words. As salty sweat and tears began to sting his eyes, he stammered out, “Ho-how did, when did you know?”
“I haven’t bled for two months. I didn’t want to tell you because… I didn’t want you to have another worry on your mind.” She put a protective hand around her belly and said, “If I hold onto your foolish dreams then this child will have to as well, and I will not do that to them. I will not have my child wondering and asking about a daddy who might not come back.” He started to move towards her but she stopped him, saying “Don’t you dare come near me now Joshua McAllen, you cannot make up for this. I am going to my father’s ranch and I will raise this child there, on my own. Until you can get rid of these delusions or find your paradise in Mexico, you will not see me or my child again.”
That was what had hurt him the most. My child, she had said. Not their child, not the child, but hers. He took the pain without resistance and let it set in, knowing that it was easily dwarfed by the anguish and sorrow felt by his betrothed. The man knew he couldn’t change her mind, nor would he change his own. He let out a long and sorrowful sigh, then said, “I love you, Jeannie.” before walking out the door. He didn’t know it, but after he left, Jeannie laid on the pile of clothes heaped on the floor and cried for nearly an hour.
That conversation that morning had been their last, and it played itself back in his mind every night.
As the man sat by the remains of his campfire, tears silently streamed down his cheeks.