[rjclanton]

This is a short story about a character I created and plan on continuing. I am working on the next chapter now.


As his big horse topped the crest of the hill, Hank reined in and sat there looking out over the wide expanse of prairie below him. He never ceased to marvel at the vastness of the West. A man could ride for days and never see anyone else, except the occasional Indian or trapper. That suited him fine. Hank was not a man who needed or even relied on others. He depended on his wits, his speed with a gun and his sixth sense that had never let him down so far. Of course, he did trust the big black horse he rode. The horse was as close a friend as he had now. They depended on each other, and trusted each other.

Hank was on a quest. He was looking for the men who had raped and murdered his dear wife, Julie while he was away from the small farm they shared. He had ridden to town for supplies and upon his return found her on the floor of the small cabin, beaten, bruised, abused and dead. After finishing with her, the monsters had slit her throat and left her to die. Hank covered her in the blanket from their bed and buried her in the grove of trees behind the barn. After setting the stock free, he burned the cabin to the ground and rode off bent on revenge. But, revenge would have to wait. War broke out between the North and the South and Hank became a member of the Confederate Army.

For the next 4 years Hank honed his skills at battlefields and small skirmishes. He became deadly accurate with a six-gun, rifle and Bowie knife. His horsemanship also became the talk of his regiment. His fearlessness earned him a promotion to Captain and he led his men with courage and deadly skill, routing enemy patrols and earning the reputation of one to be wary of. By the time that Lee surrendered to Grant to end the war, Hank was a hardened soldier who was accustomed to death waiting around every turn in the trail. His senses were honed to such a fine edge that he would wake from a sound sleep at the smallest unexpected noise, gun drawn and ready to dispatch his own justice to anyone who crossed him. War and the death of his wife had hardened Hank. Now that the war was over, he began his quest to locate Julie's killers once more.

The descriptions of the four men he was after were burned into his memory. Several people had seen the quartet after the incident and overheard one of them making jokes about the pretty yellow haired girl he had made beg for mercy. Over the years he had learned their names, too. The leader was Deke Washburn, next was Josh Jenkins and the other two were Walter One-Horse and Tad Bellows. Washburn was just plain mean. Jenkins was deadly with a Bowie knife and was most likely the one who slit Julie's throat. Walter One-Horse was a half-breed who had been known to kill children just to hear them cry. Bellows was a follower who never had an original thought of his own. As far as Hank could find out, all were still alive and probably together. He didn't care. One at a time or all together made no difference to Hank. All he wanted was to watch them die.

As Hank sat in the well-worn saddle atop his horse, Blue, he pulled out the makings to roll a smoke. His thoughts drifted back to the day Julie was killed. She had insisted he go to town without her as she was baking bread and pies. She had looked so funny with flour on her dress and face, but he kissed her lips and then told her he loved her. She squeezed his arm and smiled back with that perky smile he had fallen in love with. At the edge of the fence he turned and waved. She waved back and blew him a kiss. It was the last time he saw her alive. Hank shook the memory from his mind, coming back to reality. It would be dark soon so he needed to make camp. He knew he would see her again in his dreams, like always.

Night comes quickly in the prairie. Hank had laid out his bedroll, made some hot coffee and was just finishing off the rabbit he had shot for his supper. A lone coyote howled in the night stillness, then quiet. Blue had been fed, watered and left to graze. No need to hobble him for he would not stray far from Hank. He was also as reliable as any watchdog, letting him know if anyone or anything approached the campsite. In a short time, Hank was asleep.

It was just past sunup when Hank awoke. Blue was still close by and was showing no signs of alarm. Hank boiled up some coffee and ate some jerky and hardtack. Dipping the hardtack into the coffee helped soften it up for chewing. Hank expected to arrive in Bailey Springs around noon today. The men he sought had been seen near there only a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps he would get lucky. Even if they had gone, he knew he was getting closer. No doubt they knew he was coming for them. He didn't care, he knew he could take them all in a fight. He was only wary of an ambush that he could not control.

Hank had found out that the owl hoots he sought now had big rewards on each of their heads. Not that he needed the added incentive, but he may as well collect the bounty. His only concern was that someone else would get to them first. Not because of the bounty, but because of the vendetta. In his mind, Julie would only rest when Hank exacted vengeance on the animals that had killed her. That was what Hank intended to do.

The sun was approaching its apex as Hank rode into the dirty little town known as Bailey Springs. Few people were on the street as he made his way slowly toward the saloon, every nerve taut and every sense alive with anticipation. As he drew near the saloon, he saw about half a dozen horses tied out front. Guiding the big black horse to the rail in front of the store next to the saloon, Hank checked the action on his pistols and made sure the lash holding them in the holsters was removed. He also pulled his rifle from the saddle scabbard and chambered a round. Slowly he made his way to the back door of the saloon. He opened and closed the door quickly, staying in the shadows so that he could let his eyes become adjusted to the darkness in the room.

Scanning the room, he spotted two men at the bar, a third talking to one of the barmaids and heard a poker game going on. He maneuvered so that he could see the poker table. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the four men he had been hunting for so long. Washburn was closest to him, but his back was to Hank. To his left was Jenkins; Walter One-Horse sat across from Deke and Bellows was across from Jenkins. They had not heard him come in, nor had anyone else. Hank moved to an empty table with a bottle on it. Picking up the bottle, he threw it against the wall beside the killers. When they jumped toward the noise, Hank jumped into view and called out "Hands up, boys. You're under arrest." Slowly the men turned toward the stranger with their hands half raised. Deke Washburn spoke, "Who are you mister? Bounty hunter? What have we done?"

Hank was quick to reply, "You've done your share, Washburn, including raping and murdering a sweet woman whose only crime in life was to believe there was good in everyone. But, since you're wanted, I'll collect the bounty on all you boys, and remember it says Dead or Alive. Your choice."

"Who's this woman you talking about? When and where did this happen, mister?" Washburn asked.

"Her name was Julie Swift, my wife. It was 4 years, 9 months and 17 days ago on a little farm outside of Carson Corners. After having your way with her, your friend with the knife slit her throat and left her to die. Then you rode away, only you had to brag about it. People heard you and I have been hunting you for a long time. Now, is it Dead or Alive? One way or another, you days of raping and killing are over." Sneered Hank.

Hank was well aware of the subtle movements of Walter One-Horse and Tad Bellows. He was also aware that Jenkins' knife was not in its scabbard. Washburn's hands had been ever so slowly dropping toward his six-gun, so Hank knew the answer to the question already. In a moment or two, they would be dead. Maybe he would be, too. He didn't care as long as he got them first.

"Well, I ain't going no where with you," barked Deke as he reached for his pistol. It never cleared leather, as Hank's rifle shot blew a hole in his stomach. After firing, Hank ducked to his left just as the knife stuck into the wall behind where he had been, his second shot got Jenkins in the left eye, killing him instantly. Hank felt a sharp pain in his left arm and turned just in time to fire his six-gun into the chest of Walter One-Horse. Bellows was trying to hide behind the table, but Hank shot him in the exposed leg, wounding the outlaw. Bellows threw out his gun and raised his hands.

"I'm done, mister. You got me good. I need a doctor." Cried Bellows.

"I'm sure the sheriff can arrange for medical care. You'll be in fine shape for the hanging, killer." Barked Hank.

As Bellows rose to his feet, he tried to get his hideout gun up fast enough to shoot Hank, but he wasn't fast enough. Hank shot him between the eyes and he fell to the dirty floor dead. Hank had killed them all, finally. It was over now, but somehow it didn't help. He still felt the massive void in his heart for his Julie. At least now though, he could say she was avenged.

The sheriff came running in, gun drawn and demanding to know what was going on. The pile of dead bodies and the blood running onto the floor stopped him cold. He looked at Hank, then back at the dead outlaws. Hank suddenly became aware of his own wound and sat down in a chair as the sheriff moved toward him.

"What happened here, mister?" he asked Hank.

Before Hank could respond the bartender injected his version by saying, "this fellow tried to take these varmints to jail, but they all threw down on him. That was their mistake. I never saw a man so good with a gun and so unafraid of the odds. I think he's a bounty hunter."

"Is that right, mister? You a bounty hunter?" asked the sheriff.

"Yeah, I am, but I would have gladly killed these three for nothing. However, the money will do me a lot of good, too. Where's the doc's office? I need to have this wound dressed." Said Hank.

"Doc Johnson's is just down the street. I'll walk you down. The reward for these 3 could be sizable. It may take a few days to get the money together. Is that alright with you, Mr., uh, what is your name anyhow?" asked the sheriff.

"Name's Swift, Hank Swift. I don't mind waitin'. I got nowhere I need to be now. Besides, this might be a good place to rest for a bit, if you've no objection, Sheriff."

"That would be fine with me, Hank. You know, I've been lookin' for a deputy. You interested?" queried the sheriff.

"Mebbe. Let's talk as we walk to the doc's." answered Hank.

At long last Hank's quest was over and the vendetta fulfilled. Now he had to go about the business of living. He was sure Julie was resting in peace now. He only hoped that he could.