Off again amidst a cold Arizona evening is bounty hunter Jonah Hex, this time on the trail of a horse thief. Not the worst of offenders in the lawless environs and unruly times of late 1800s America. The whys and wherefores are irrelevant, a crime has been committed and a fee to be gained.
The basest of human emotions that compel one to sin comes with the territory, regardless of which part of the moral spectrum they arose. For many law breaking has become their essence, their lifeblood, who and what they are, and once this state has been reached it is far too late for analyzing. Rationalization and blame on society, bad parenting or a rough childhood bring no solace to their victims or families. Bad choices were made, scarred lives the result, and now a price must be paid.
That's where hardened men like Hex figure. Any bounty hunter worth a damn will tell you their profession is best accomplished with an indifferent mindset of right and wrong, black and white. There can be no crisis of conscience in this arena. Leave the shades of gray to the judges, politicians, and social reformers. When you're out on a mesa fighting for your life against a cutthroat who sees you as an obstacle to freedom and noose around the neck, thoughts of survival are all that matter.
A brisk wind snaps Jonah out of his reverie. More whisky at the bar would have provided his body with a welcome numbing effect, though also an unwelcome dulling of the cerebral senses and motor reflexes. It is unwise to give any physical or mental edge to your quarry, though they must make those same choices while fleeing, comfort vs. awareness. Without a full moon to guide him the blackness hangs heavily like a shroud, sending a chill down his spine.
How often has he traveled through this terrain, at times familiar, others alien. When alone in the desert negligence can infringe, a dangerous state that can leave one unprepared for the perils at hand. Whether confronting animals of the two or four legged variety, or ones that slither in the dark, the desert is fraught with creatures scratching and clawing for one more night of liberty or sustenance. The thought of sustenance rekindles Jonah's memory of a steak he'd partaken earlier that evening along with the aforesaid red eye. Who knows when he might eat again.
The tracking of a man can take days, which then becomes a learning experience, if one survives the predicament. At first your quarry is unknown. Still people are creatures of habit, patterns formed, the path of least resistance followed. All natural and exactly what Hex is counting on. This is where searches for other desperadoes pays dividends. He knows the fastest routes, the vantage points, where a bush whacking is likely to take place, or better yet, where to prepare one himself.
It's also where his tenure serving the fighting rebels of the glorious south provides invaluable experience: attack, defend, fortify, flank. Some aspects of conflict remain the same whether confronting a team of trained soldiers or one reckless outlaw. You still need to get inside your opponent's head, gauge their plan of attack and move accordingly.
Another advantage is his composure, when contrasted against his prey's anxiety will allow him to think and act with superior clarity and execution. Not that an adrenaline spike cannot give his opponent an edge during close quarters combat, a situation any good bounty hunter should avoid always. One option is to shoot the bastard at first chance, a quick and safe means to an end that doesn't trouble Hex in the least, though an option not available here. Horse thievery does not warrant a dead or alive bounty. Of course it all comes down to whose horse was stolen, doesn't it?
Jonah reflects on his conversation with mayor Horace Stone of Bad Rock, New Mexico the previous day. It was he who offered the bounty of $500 for a horse thief named Sam Crane. The name didn't ring a bell, but the southwest territories cover considerable ground with tens of thousands now inhabiting them, with more moving to the Wild West each day. Times are changing, and soon men like himself will be an anachronism best forgotten, replaced by local sheriffs and national Pinkertons. Railroad and telegraph systems, driven by the allure of gold, have made what was once a brave new world into population centers and imminent statehood.
It's no secret how society talks about men of his kind, with hushed and clipped undertones. He knows what they are saying, but damn it, someone has to do the dirty work, and the pay beats being a farmhand, where the paltry wages earned vanish after a few shots of whiskey and a poker game gone sour. It also beats scraping out an existence on the other side of the law, which offers risky rewards and six by nine living arrangements for the rest of your god forsaken life. He knows he thrives on freedom. His nature does not allow for settling down with a wife and kids. He acknowledges being a thrill seeker and needs the hunt.
Crane left town earlier that day, creating a larger ruckus than expected considering the lesser severity of the crime. Sure to many a man's horse is his most prized possession but he rarely has been summoned to track horse thieves, much less enticed by such a generous bounty. Whose horse was this anyway? Not that it matters, a job is a job, or is it personal?
Crane's head start shouldn't present a problem, especially since he believes no one will follow. He knows no sheriff will pursue for something this small, and the victim is without the means himself. He won't expect a hired gun skilled in the art of tracking like Hex. With that in mind he considers Crane's likely course. Reports had him heading due west, and with few settlements in between California was the most likely destination. That's a few days ride for even the finest of horsemen.
While Hex has enjoyed the times he's been there, he does not want to extend this chase needlessly. He's familiar with a northern trail that's initially a few extra miles, but once on it can gain considerable ground in contrast to the westerly route Crane will employ, and will require a wider swath of the Colorado River to traverse. If all goes well he should be west of the Colorado at sunrise the following day.
The town of Laughlin has risen over the past few years. With its proximity to the Colorado its presence is no surprise. It's growing rapidly, with numerous trading posts, saloons, and a gambling hall already prospering. Cattle ranchers are thriving, providing the means for some of the finest restaurants west of the Mississippi. All these comforts are on Hex's mind as he arrives. After thirty six hours of riding with but two stops, one for an evening's nap and the other to rest his own horse, he checks into a hotel to tend to his needs: a lengthy bath, a nourishing steak, and a bottle of whisky to wash down some trail dust.
Like any boomtown, especially ones with gambling, you can expect beautiful women. Hex has met all kinds of women, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Sometimes all three in one, which are the ones you really have to beware. In his line of work you meet more bad than good, and the latter are the ones left scarred by the men he hunts.
What would Hex do with a good woman anyway. His lot in life does not entail respectability and family virtues. He's done some dastardly deeds in his time and the only women who would have him have skeletons of their own in their closets. All this reflection is pointless anyway, he's here on a job.
At that moment with another glass filled with whiskey firmly in hand, in walks the most provocative woman he's ever seen.
"Excuse me. I'm not comfortable sitting at the bar, being the only lady and all. Would you mind if I sat down?"
"No."
"I'm new to Laughlin. It sure is developed."
"It's more a way station for people heading out to the coast. That's where most will settle. The weather is mild and quite beautiful."
"It is hot. Do you live here?"
"No, I'm here on work."
"What type of work do you do, Mr…"
"Hex…Jonah Hex. I'm a trapper….a trapper of men."
"A bounty hunter? I've never met one before. Do you always get your man, Mr. Hex….or woman?"
"You won't last long in this profession if you don't. Your reputation is your calling card, but that card has a flip side. For every man I've sent to jail or the gallows, there's a brother, father, or lover that seeks revenge. I can handle a man upfront. It's the ones from behind that can make your time here on earth a short one."
"Sounds ominous, and exciting per chance? Is that the appeal?"
"Life has a way of determining your place in it. What brings you here?"
"While you may be tracking a man, I'm trying to escape one. You mentioned flip sides before. I appear to be your flip side, of the same coin perhaps? I'm no stranger to danger, but while you seek it, I abhor it, though I may have to fight fire with fire."
"I don't know your predicament, and it's none of my damn business, but if you don't mind listening to a man who's spilled more blood than he cares to recall, and had plenty of his own spilled in return, no good will come from sinking to another's level."
"That's easy for you to say sitting on the opposite side of the table, and opposite sides of our stations in life. You don't appear to be a man to back down from any fight. Why should I? I'm a forthright woman, Mr. Hex, so don't take me lightly. I'm more than capable of handling my own affairs in the manner required."
"No offense meant, and I apologize for sounding otherwise, but think twice before considering something rash. I know painfully well where of I speak."
"Good enough. Well then it's been a pleasure, and an enlightening one. I do hope you find your….man."
"The pleasure's been all mine, Miss…."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I never did introduce myself. My name is Samantha, Samantha Crane."
It's comes as quite a shock to Hex to realize his quarry is a woman. Was he played the fool? Granted Stone never did confirm Crane was a man, but the inference was there, and deceit can be perpetrated by facts not stated as ones fallaciously so. The likelihood of her guilt now seem remote, making him question the motive behind the ersatz warrant. A deserted husband, jealous lover, whoever it was would have considerable influence around Bad Rock to involve Stone. Crane has the looks to drive any man mad and consider all sorts of spiteful acts, including the enlistment of a local politician in committing them.
Even with regards to Hex, while honoring his obligations they should realize once his prey's identity was discovered repercussions could arise, unless that too was part of the plan. He understands in his profession not all information will be forthcoming, since some may dissuade him from pursuing the bounty. Still there are too many questions needing answers, and it's damn well time he got some.
The quickest means of uncovering Crane's background would involve someone knowing her in Laughlin, a distinct possibility since she appears to have settled in. She could be resting before heading west, but Hex's instincts tell him this is not a brief layover. If that's the case Stone likely knew beforehand and could have sent someone else for less money. Hex though is a proven commodity and people know he won't do anything foolish or careless.
As forthcoming as she was during their talk, he did not expect any further revelations straight from the horse's mouth. While not appearing dangerous physically, there's a shrewdness about her that could lead down a path better left untaken. His best bet is to go to the sheriff's office and lay his cards on the table, since his presence is under the auspices of the mayor of Bad Rock.
Unfortunately he does not possess a bounty notice, as his transaction with Stone was verbal, an uncommon practice but not unheard of. If his conspiracy theory is correct, it would entail physical evidence of illegal wrongdoing that Stone and company wouldn't want lying around. If she does not want to go back, he may be in for a tougher undertaking than first imagined.
The sheriff's office was located on the town's thoroughfare, teeming with stores, hotels, and saloons catering to the basic needs and idle vices of locals and travelers alike. While its adverse climate may prevent a city from developing, a foundation has been established for gamblers and thrill seekers of abundant bents. For many, after a full day's drudgery of working hard, the desire's there for a full night's pleasure of playing hard, and there is no shortage of men, and women, who will happily, and quite profitably, service those desires.
The jail was impressive in its own right, with sufficient cells and staff to handle most contingencies, and would require generous funding to maintain. The sheriff was an affable, middle aged man, yet tempered by a distrustful, no nonsense approach, an outlook which suited Hex just fine. He prefers his lawmen to be lawmen, not unfocused and ineffective politicians using their position as a stepping stone to higher office. Convincing him he was real without a bounty notice would be the trick.
"Sheriff Lawton, my name is Jonah Hex. Can I speak with you?"
"The Jonah Hex. Your reputation precedes you."
"Which creates nothing but trouble I might add. I'm in Laughlin tracking a possible horse thief named Samantha Crane. I can't stress possible enough, since I'm having doubts about the charge. She seems to have made contacts here and I was hoping you could tell me about them."
"I know who you are so I'll believe what you say, but don't prove me wrong and make me regret ever laying eyes on you. I am familiar with Crane. This is not her first visit here. She has made acquaintances, whose identities I'd rather ignore, but make no mistake these are not men to be taken lightly. Why she is here I can only guess, but since she has yet to commit any crimes I'm aware of, it's none of my concern, for now."
"Rest assured I don't take anyone lightly. These men you mentioned. Can I count on your help if I encounter any….problems with them?"
"No. You've chosen this life and are paid handsomely for it, so don't expect me to solve any trouble that arises. Naturally I don't expect you to start anything either. We'll get along just fine, as long as we understand each other. Now I have other matters to attend. Good day, Mr. Hex, and you'll forgive me if I don't wish you happy hunting."
The most likely place to find answers was the gambling hall. If Crane was associating with men of ill repute they'd be found there. On the surface they're operated by well respected, god fearing businessmen, but scratch beneath the veneer and you'll find some of the vilest scoundrels this side of the Mississippi, all behind a veil of respectibility. And if gambling wasn't enough to satisfy your needs, prostitution was part of the equation, providing three distinct yet integrated vices, liquor, cards, and women, for prying money from the unsuspecting yet quite willing hands of their clientele.
Hex is never averse to a game of five card stud himself accompanied by a bottle of whiskey, so there were obviously worse places to be plying his trade this evening. The Royal Flush was an opulent establishment offering any game of chance imaginable, staffed by gaming personnel plus shills employing their skills in enhancing the house's advantage.
At first glance Crane is no where in sight, but there are numerous rooms and offices where the men he seeks could be at that moment, accompanied by her perhaps. If Lawton's comments were correct, he should not reveal his hand too soon. For now it's wise to keep his identity secret, which considering how far he was from his normal bailiwick shouldn't present a problem.
"Hex, how the hell are you?"
"Bartholomew Lash, you old reprobate. What the hell you doing here?"
"I heard about the action, plus there was a certain young lady I was hoping to see."
"A woman, I shoulda known. I don't know what excites you more, a game of cards or a young filly."
"Both, but you already know that. Now what are you doing here. It can't be pleasure, so it must be business."
"Yes, and I'd be obliged if you'd keep your voice down and not announce to everyone who I am. But since you're here I might as well use it to my advantage. What do you know about the men who run this place?"
"Two brothers by the name of Starling, originally from back east, Kansas City, Deadwood, Bad Rock. Always in trouble with the law, rustling, shady land deals, those types of things. I understand they're acquainted with your nemesis Quentin Turnbull."
"Turnbull! When were they in cahoots with him?"
"Two years ago, right around the time of that nasty business you were involved in. Word is the Starlings and Turnbull made some money on a land scam. They had a falling out afterwards, nothing serious, just a decision on Turnbull's part to cut ties. While annoying to the Starlings they lacked the means to change Turnbull's mind or challenge him for control of Bad Rock. With the money they made they came out here and started the Royal Flush."
"The Starlings have ties to Bad Rock and Quentin Turnbull. What do you know about a young woman named Samantha Crane?"
"Samantha? Why that's the young lady I came to see."
Bad Rock, Samantha Crane, Quentin Turnbull, the Starling brothers. It really was coming together. Any connection to Turnbull was a fiendish one, as he was one of the foulest creatures on god's green earth Hex ever had the misfortune of meeting. That included his son too. The nasty business Lash alluded to was all too clear. Two years ago a bounty was issued on young Turnbull for murder, the victim an innocent man accused by Turnbull of seeing his girlfriend Samantha Crane. If driven to murder wasn't bad enough, his own life came to an end months later at the hands of Hex, who was forced to shoot Turnbull in self defense while tracking him. The elder Turnbull, who was already at odds with Hex over other incidents, swore vengeance.
It appears Turnbull planned on getting Hex and Crane alone to exact his revenge, since he blamed them equally for his son. Crane must have met the Starlings there and after everyones split decided to head west and use them as a means of protection. The plan was sound but obvious, as Turnbull deduced it and instructed Stone to dispatch Hex to track Crane. Now Hex won't continue to play his part, but that's only the start. When he doesn't return with Crane, Turnbull won't take matters lightly. He'll send other men to Laughlin, likely killers, plus probably making the trip himself to ensure everything getting done properly this time. If that's the case Hex needs to make some moves of his own.
Hex knows the need for secrecy is over. It's critical he meets with the Starlings and Crane to confide his suspicions. The brothers may be unwitting players, but the connection to Crane has thrown them unequivocally into the maelstrom, and who knows, they may embrace this opportunity to face Turnbull. Hex was supposed to telegraph Stone once he had a timeframe for their return which would set in motion the framework for their ambush. The intent was for them to never make it alive to Bad Rock. Little would Turnbull know he would be bringing other participants to the dance.
The meeting went off without a hitch, though Crane took more convincing. She didn't understand the need of making the journey, nonetheless placing herself squarely in the line of fire. She wanted Turnbull out of her life forever but would have preferred a less perilous means. As for the brothers they viewed this an excellent opportunity to again become involved in land ventures theirs for the taking in Bad Rock. They had no fear of Stone. If Turnbull had him in his pocket so could they, and the sheriff was no deterrent.
The likely location for an ambush was Highland Pass. It's configuration of high ground, ample protection and multiple sight lines granted whoever controlled it numerous advantages. The key would be which side of the conflict established a foothold first. That's where the Starlings figured. Departing Laughlin immediately would get them to Highland Pass at sunset tomorrow, enabling them to make first encampment. The final step would be sending the telegraph informing Stone they would be leaving the following day. With that in mind Hex departed for the western union to dispatch the news.
The journey to Highland Pass entails a day and a half ride, a short trip for Hex considering the other travels he's endured. He'd rather not dwell on his life. People running from the law, if they keep their wits about them, will use this country's size and flee as far away as possible. Tracking these men required trips of up to two thousand miles, which can take months and exhaust the sturdiest of riders.
He's experienced much of this nation, from flat plains to majestic mountains, from frigid cold to searing heat. Whether gratifying or a complete pain in the saddle they all contributed to his personal odyssey. How much longer he would persist with this occupational madness time would tell. It surely is a young man's game, with one minor misstep and you're retired, permanently, and possibly six feet under as well.
The oldest bounty hunter he knew was Cole Hammonds, a man of unbeknownst age but looking the worse for wear. Constant exposure to the sun, along with the constant imbibing of liquor, is not conducive to preserving one's youthful looks. Sleeping in a bed is a rarity. A good night's sleep is a welcome windfall. Three square meals a day is out of the question, and if loneliness bothers you forget it. The life isn't fit for man or beast yet here he was escorting another person to an unknown fate. At least it's a beautiful woman this time, one of the finer aspects of the job. This is not a Sunday stroll we're talking. The Wild West has that moniker for a reason, and all his efforts to the contrary have done little to change things. It can be wearing reflecting back and feeling more regret than pride. Regardless of tonight's conclusion contemplation on his future was a certainty.
They arrive at Highland Pass at midday, two days after their departure from Laughlin. Hex wasn't sure what he would find, but had arranged a signal with the Starlings to indicate everything was safe. A perusal of the surroundings find nothing of the kind, sending a distress signal to his mind.
"Samantha, quick, over here."
"What's wrong?"
"Everything. The Starlings aren't here."
"You're right about that, Hex. Now slowly, release your gun belt."
"Turnbull!"
"How you been, you rotten bastard. I've been thinking about you for some time. You can forget about the Starlings. They've been handled, for good. Samantha, get over here."
"Well well, I did a poor job figuring this one."
"Nothing personal, Hex, at least with you. As for the Starlings..."
"Hex, if you could see the look on that ugly face of yours. How's it feel staring down the wrong end of a gun for a change? You know what's funny. This entire affair has little to do with you. You were just an errand boy, a pawn, poetic justice considering our past. This was all about the Starlings. You were the last piece of the puzzle to convince them to leave their enclave in Laughlin and come here where they could be dealt with privately, and quite permanently."
"I feel like I owe you an explanation. Two years ago the Starlings swindled my parents out of the only piece of land they owned, a small tract but a place I called home. Lacking money or the means to fight back they had no recourse. It devastated them. My mother died quickly and my father left a broken man till he too passed last winter. When I met the Starlings at Turnbull's I recognized them immediately. There they were bragging about all the money they had, money they stole from my parents. I was enraged. All I could think about was revenge. The next day I talked to Quentin about setting this plan in motion."
"I can't say I'm surprised about this, but there's one thing I don't follow. I thought you hated her for cheating on your son and ruining his life?"
"What no one knew is Samantha was involved with me, not your friend Bat Lash. She spurned him. My son never knew the real story. Instead of thinking rationally his anger got the best of him. He always did run off half cocked. It's no surprise he ended up the way he did. Of course your role in his death has never been forgotten."
"Turnbull, you damn hypocrite. Aren't you forgetting your own role in your son's death? Is this some stunt to pardon your guilt?"
"Shut up! I loved my son. What happened between Samantha and me….happened. There were circumstances you know nothing about! However for you there are none. You killed my boy and for that you're going to die."
BANG!
"What the hell!"
"At last. It's over. There's one last twist to this affair. Getting the Starlings wasn't the only reason I went to Laughlin. I wanted to learn if Turnbull had any role in my parents' passing. It took some deception but they admitted he was involved from the start. He didn't think I would find out. Well I did, and now everything's come full circle. As for you I have no quarrel. If it's all the same we can part friends. So unless you plan on doing something stupid we can say goodbye. It's your decision."
"Uh….considering you're holding a gun on me, I think we can come to some agreement. I'm a bounty hunter, not a lawman. I suppose you had your reasons, still I'm out $500."
"And I'm without parents gone before their time. Strange. I thought there would be some closure after this, but all I'm feeling is...cold."
"Which is why there are men like me, to do the dirty work best forgotten by others. Killing is a means to an end, nothing more."
"When we met I asked if you always get your man. This time you didn't. A bitter pill….?"
"Just more food for thought. One might think a man like me has an ego, but I don't. This is just a job, a dirty, filthy, god forsaken job, and nothing more."
"Think it's time for a change?"
"I am who I am. I'm a violent man in violent times. When you live the life I've lived for this long there may be no going back. You reach a point though when time catches up and the lifestyle you've fancied for years, like yourself, gets old. Perhaps not getting my man was life's way of saying it is time for a change while I'm young enough to do so. Who knows, with the right woman at my side. That is, if I can still get my...woman?"
"Why Mr. Hex, you really are a hound, aren't you."
