Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.
Warnings: language and violence.
Reviews are always welcome and appreciated

Among the Willows

The thud of rampaging hooves sounds like thunder rolling over the prairies at the end of a long summer day. It echoes through the streets with the same brutality as the accompanying gunshots. Instead of the lingering smell of wet grass and muddy streets that complemented a much-needed storm, the air is heavy with smoke, gunpowder and blood.

Wide bright blue eyes peer through the slats in the boardwalk, tracking the violence unfolding in the formerly peaceful town. The small boy leans forward to get a better angle in which to view the town square from his hiding place, but his mother's firm, unyielding grip keeps him close to her chest. She had pulled him under the boardwalk in front of the general store when the first shot preceded the rolling thunder of the invading riders. They continue to hide there even now as the violence rages on.

Fights had broken out in town before, but never at this magnitude. This was akin to war that the old timers perched out in front of the saloon spoke of when the children were playing particularly noisy games and needed to be calmed down with tales of gun slinging adventure. The Sheriff usually had the bad guys in jail long before there was cause to hide, pressed against the ground in the shadow of the boardwalk.

There was no better lawman than the Sheriff of Federation City as far as the boy was concerned. Blessed every night with heroic tales of justice served and a town saved before the Sheriff tucked him in and promised sweet dreams was all the evidence he needed to believe in the man.

Right now, the state of the town is the complete opposite of everything he has been promised. Black smoke billows up from the buildings, chased towards the heavens by savage flames. Cries of anguished townsfolk seem as unrelenting as the gunfire. The boy's focus never wavers, even as his mother's sobs intensify. He knows he should stay hidden, at the very least to protect his mother- but he needs to see the unyielding glint of the Sheriff's badge pinned proudly on his father's chest, to know that everything is going to be alright; good always triumphs in the face of evil.

The grip around his waist tightens as a sharp gasp escapes his mother's lips. Turning his head towards the other end of Main Street he sees what has captured his mother's attention. His little heart pounds in his chest, growing stronger and louder as the rope is tossed over the thick branch of the oak tree at the start of town. The noose at the end dangles proudly for all to see. The unfortunate townspeople that failed to take cover when the raid began are forcefully lined up on either side of the street; a captive audience for the proclamation being dictated by the rider of the beige horse.

The words, loud and forceful for all to hear, don't matter as the boy watches in horror, the familiar white stallion being led towards the noose, carrying its rider to his date with the hangman. His mother's fierce grip doesn't stand a chance against his desperation as he slips free, running the agonizing distance between his hiding place and his father. He runs as hard as his little legs will carry him, the noose slipping around his father's neck and tightening.

The Sheriff's struggles renew, the harsh bite of the course rope biting into his bound wrists. The horse, his trusted steed, huffs as it takes a hesitant step forward, pulling the rope around his neck even tighter. Carefully, as not to slip off the saddle completely, the Sheriff leans back slightly to try and give slack to the noose. "James, no!" he forces from his constricted throat as he helplessly watches one of the raiders scoop up his son. The horror of the situation pales in comparison anything that might happen to his son now. He could live with the rope or rather die contently by it as long James was spared from it.

James struggles in the vice grip of the stranger keeping him from his father; his hero. The other raiders laugh at the child's thrashing as the gunman passes him up to the rider on the beige horse. James can feel the hot acidic breath of his captor whispering in his ear. "Well what do we have here?" The man is the symbolic image of every outlaw the Sheriff had triumphantly dispatched in his tales. The harder James struggles to free himself for this visage of evil, the harder the young man holding him laughs. "Looks just like his daddy."

James has heard it from many people in his life. His mother says it with fondness and the townspeople say it with awe. The sound of it now sends an unnatural chill through his bones.

"You let him go, Nero. He has no part in this," hisses the Sheriff, the same electric blue eyes as the boy, threatening righteous fury.

Nero snarls. "Oh, I think he does, Sheriff." He returns his attention to the squirming burden in his arms, digging his fingers painfully into the boy's shoulders until James lets out a pained hiss.

"Leave him alone!" he demands of the raiders. "It's going to be alright, James, you hear me?" assures the Sheriff, strained reassurance breaking in his voice. His eyes zero in on his son, trying to convey all the promise and reassurance of those words despite feeling achingly hopeless.

"You wanna see what happens to lawmen in these parts?" asks Nero, his voice loud and abrasive in the boy's ear.

James ceases his struggles, tears filling his eyes as they narrow on his father. "Daddy?"

"James!" shouts the Sheriff, his voice cutting through all the noise and commotion around them. Urgency creeps into the captive's voice as one of the riders slips off his horse and positions himself behind the horse that is keeping the rope from tightening its deadly embrace around the Sheriff's neck. "Close your eyes, James, don't look."

James nods his head, blindly obeying his father's instructions without hesitation. Dad makes everything alright and if he just listens now, the bad men will learn what happens when they threaten innocent people. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut until they hurt.

A sharp snap precedes the indignant neigh of the horse carrying the Sheriff before it takes off at a gallop. The rope pulls tight, keeping the body from travelling with its stead. The rope swings back and forth, denying its victim a swift merciful death with a broken neck, leaving the hero of the town to suffocate.

"None of that now," seethes Nero, yanking hard on the boy's hair until his eyes snap open. James's world comes to a stop the same time the rope stops swinging.