Ben Wade
Ten after three. The train approached in a cloud of dust
and soot, hauling men to their death in Yuma, trailing sin
as if it was no weight at all. The metal wheels glared
bright and shrieking as the train, clunking like a gun,
made one last stop at Contention, Arizona, blowing heat
out of its core and into the world.
The man with his hat askew nodded— acknowledging the world
and its perverse sense of irony— to his companion. Dust
rolled off his shoulders like a cloak, and sin
spilled down his hands. His sharp blue eyes glared
fiercely, his hands itching to fire The Hand of God, the gun—
a legend with a curse. If only he could feel the heat
and rush of another battle. Into his eyes, sweat and heat
dribbled and festered. Perhaps in another world
he would have let the child die like his father, turn to dust
and ash. But maybe this atonement would compensate for sin
such as his. Surely his wizened and blackened soul that glared
from between his ribs where scars from gun
and knife had passed over, like the gun
in his holster, would weigh him down to depths of heat
and anguish. Nothing could save him from the world
or the noose that waited for him. Like dust
he would be swept away. His boots, black as sin,
forced him into the train, into the gazes that glared
from the eyes of thieves and murderers. Sunlight glared
between the cracks and chinks of the compartment. His gun
was taken from him as the train began to move. Heat
enveloped the man in an embrace. For an instant, the world
was silent but for the beat drumming in his ears. Dust
swirled in eddies around his feet, around the sin
that spilled from his hands. The man rubbed the sin
from his hands, wiped the blood that glared
crimson onto his pants. Though he was without gun
or knife, he felt confidant that the noose waiting in the heat,
was not for him. Perhaps the irony of the world
was not without its quirks. The man whistled, dust
tickling his nose. A whiny bellowed in the heat. His world
glared brighter as dust and horse rose in sight,
and he shot forward like a gun, free of sin and train.