Partida Rol por web

–Huh?, Hurd muttered and turned his horse around. His eyes were blank as he stared at Crow, his voice trembling… -Crowe. He.. He got Vern…

Hurd had not been around when the ambush had happened, but the tracks were clear enough for him to read. His friend had been captured. He raised his voice to make his point: -I ain´t stayin´ around to see how this ends.

He stared at Crowe for a moment, almost challenging the young cowboy. Hurd had made up his mind, and he wasn´t gonna back down. Not today.

There was absolutely no doubt abou Hurd being a mess. There wasn't even a corpse to be as frightened as the cowboy was, but Crowe could understand that to some people, seeing the blood of someone you knew could be nerve wracking. He saw him got on his horse, and as both horses, his and Vern's, were carrying goods for a long trip, he thought that maybe he was there when they had taken Vern away, or at least that he was supposed to be there. 

Then he saw Hurd turn. And even if he felt sorry for Laura, Crowe thought it was the best choice for him. Hurd was running away and sending loyalty down the drain, but at least he wouldn't be the mess he looked like around Bronson, which could be considerably worse. That's why he wasn't surprised when he heard him talk. 

If you need to get away, you need to get away. - he said calmly, looking Hurd straight in the eyes - I ain't gonna say two words about it. I never saw you here. - he says, trying to let him know that he could count on him whichever his decision was.

–T-Tell Vern I´m sorry, pal. And Laura..., he uttered and turned his horse around again. Somewhere, deep inside, he knew he was doing the wrong thing. A man is judged by his actions, and he was taking the road of a coward. But he could not help it.

And therefore he rode away. Away from Justice, from Maddox, from Bronson, from Laura. Away from Sabbath.

Crowe was left alone next to Vern´s dead horse. He had no choice but to return to the Bronson ranch empty-handed. And Jason who had gone to get Vern would not have better luck either he reckoned.

Back at the ranch, people from Sabbath were gathering for the burial of Harvey Stenbaugh. Crowe had no time to change his clothes as he followed the rest to the hill were he had stood a few nights ago, and talked with Mr. Bronson. Now, that moment seemed something from a distant past as Harvey was laid to a tomb next to the Bronson family.

Jason had found Choctaw at the Vern ranch. He was wounded in the shoulder, but he had insisted to come and pay his respects to the foreman. They had not seen eye to eye on many things, but the respect and loyalty was not something a man questioned.

-O, omnipotent god...alone and unbending in thy heaven, accept with mercy into thy judgment this, thy child, the minister started. -Molded from the cold shard  and fired with a soul warmed in thy presence comes forth man, to struggle and move unbowed through this harsh world alone, to be tested by life... to be confused by passion...to be tempted and brought down by evil... to seek for the light that the soul knows and never turns away from, and then to return from whence he came...again, alone, to stand in awed finality before thy gaze and give account.

Crowe stood silent, and listened

-Such is man's destiny, and from the hardness comes forth a purity that soft men can never find. Such a man was this, our brother, who now we bury here. Amen.

Comprehensibly frustrated, Crowe rode back to the ranch, just in time for Harvey's burial at the same cemetery he had been talking with Vincent just a few nights ago. He couldn't help but feeling that he was responsible for Vern's disappearance and Harvey's death. Maybe he was asking too much of himself, but he knew that Vincent trusted him, and he wasn't feeling as much of a help. 

Standing next to Jason, he whispered to his friend - Vern is missing and Price is gone - even though he could guess Jason would at least know about the first one - What about your shoulder? - he asked, as subtle as possible so no one could be ofended by their conversation in the middle of the burial. That until the priest started talking and Crowe stood there silently. Even if he wasn't much of a believer, he knew better than messing with someone's religion.

Amen - he said, when the prayer came to an end.

–Yeah, Harv is dead. Corman is dead. Vern and Price are gone. Sinta captured. Choctaw wounded in the shoulder…, Jason nodded as he listened to the minister.

His eyes were fixed on his father. When he had returned from the Vern ranch, he had found him kneeling in front of Harv´s coffin. He was told he had spent hours there, alone, praying. Now, Vincent Bronson was not a religious man. But he understood divine Justice.

An eye for an eye…

He knew there would be retaliation as he helped to lower the casket to the grave as Vincent observed with a grim expression.

-Now let us each man unto his own god pray. And now let us sing unto the lord...

 a mighty fortress # is our god # a bulwark never failing #

-We should've gone together, Harv, he muttered as he grabbed the shovel to throw some dirt into the grave. .

 # our helper, he amid... #

Vincent Bronson was unaware of the people around him. And when the burial was over, he slowly walked back to his ranch, alone.

Those who had come from Sabbath to attend the funeral and pay their respects left as soon as the ceremony was over. The next day there was going to be another burial in town for Marc Corman.

Most of the cowboys who did occasional work for the Bronsons were also gone by dinner time, when Jason, Crowe and Choctaw entered the main building of the ranch. They had not spoken much, but they knew that Vincent Bronson would go after Maddox the following day. When the dead were buried

They found him on the porch, looking at the view of the lands he owned. This was where so many times he had talked with Harvey.

–I just came by to pay my respects, the hired gun said. –I got a bullet on my shoulder at the Old Fort shootout with the Mexicans, he added. –But if ya need me to go with you after Maddox, I´ll go. You got all the guns you need here, Mr. Bronson, he said looking at Jason and Crowe. –All the guns you need, just for the asking.

Then the three went to have some dinner, leaving Mr. Bronson alone with his thoughts late into the night.

He assumed Vincent was shocked, since he didn't seemed to react to anything, or to anyone, for that matter. That's why he didn't waste a word -even though he wasn't much of a speaker- when Choctaw talked, but just nodded to confirm that he wanted to help Bronson, either with his gun or with the simple gesture of someone that would have your back. Or at least would try and pour his heart into it.

Silently he ate his dinner, looking once or twice towards Jason - Are ya' okay? - he asked, worried about his friend.

-Yeah, Jason said looking out the window. –Just need to figure this out Crowe. This is our fight now. Maddox murdered Harvey. We ought to take four or five guns to go against that bastard. That´s what pa is gonna do.

He looked at his friend. He valued Crowe´s loyalty to the brand. Especially since this was not his fight. He was not on the list like the others. Yet, Crowe was taking a stand.

-You wanna ride for this brand, for the Bronsons. Good. We have the edge. It´s four of us here, but there´s Alacran and Dekker, too. Choctaw told me they´ve gone straight to Sabbath to wait for Maddox.

Crowe nodded, without a hint of doubt in his eyes. Jason was his best friend, so there wasn't even a chance to deny him any help he requested. He was, and would be until the day his back hit the ground, by his side. 

We better get goin' then - he said, crossing his arms over his chest. - We ain't gonna get nothing done by standing right here - he added, patting his back as to hurry him up. 

-C´mon then, Jason said and walked to his room. He was anxious and nervous, but he did appreciate having Crowe around. They had been friends ever since they were kids, even though Crowe had always been ranch hand, and Jason was the son of the most powerful man in the county. But now they were both equal. Two youngsters about to face their date with destiny.

Once inside the room, Jason took out a nice wooden box, and opened it carefully. Inside, there was his pride and joy – a Lemat Two Barrel revolver. He gently caressed the the unique gun, and sighed nervously. -You ever kill a man, Crowe? Never mind... I know when it all comes down to the bedrock, you´ll be OK. I´ve seen how ya handle your shooting iron.

Nodding and without saying a word, Crowe followed him towards Jason's room, hoping he would calm down a little. Even though he knew he wasn't the best comfort anyone could get, and that he usually had a mostly pessimistic approach to every problem, they were old friends, and he could do nothing else but try his best to help, even if that meant just standing quiet by his side. 

Of course, he stood silently while Jason fetched his gun. There was no doubt he could get why he was nervous. Killing someone wasn't a a meaningless deal, and not everyone had the guts for it. But you don't know until you know, and there was no sense on torturing themselves with the idea until the second before the bullet hits the soon-to-be corpse.

We'll be alright, Jace - he said firmly, although he knew he was probably lying. He wasn't going to let his friend get cold feet. - Don't you overthink it. We both will be just fine. 

Jason grabbed Crowe´s shoulder firmly, and nodded in silence. Crowe left him in his room, and went to the bunk house. His few belongings were in a wooden box, closed with a padlock. He quickly put them into a saddlebag, and tried to get some rest.

A horse´s neigh woke him up. It was still dark outside, but he could hear noises… He grabbed his stuff in a hurry, and as he stepped outside he saw Mr. Bronson walking towards his horse.

He had a stern expression in his face, and he was wearing a gun belt. Behind him, his trusted gun hand Choctaw Lee looked pale and he was sweating. His shoulder was giving him hell, but he was still prepared to ride to face Maddox. And Jason Bronson, who was already on his horse, and holding the reins for Crowe´s mount, Bolt.

The cattle baron mounted his horse, and nodded when he saw Crowe. He did not speak any words, but he valued the loyalty and courage of this young man. Once the four men were on their horses, he checked his weapon one more time. He was no stranger to gunfights. He had battled the Indians, he had fought with the cattle thieves... Back in the old days, he had built his empire with a gun in his had. He thought those days were gone. He had tried to avoid this, but some things just were not meant to be.

–It took guns to get this land, guns to keep it, guns to make things grow. The guns that pride called out … and each time, we buried the cost, he muttered to himself as he put the gun into the holster, and grabbed the reins, and hurried his horse towards Sabbath.

-Time for men to take a stand!! Whoa!!!!