Chapter 1

Jonathan Heller laid back on the bed in his cell and stared at the ceiling. The beds mattress was brown from age and very dirty. It was held up by four metal poles that were brown from rust. The cell was made of brick walls and very small. He has just enough room to stretch when he got up in the morning. There was a barred window where he could look out at the world beyond the cell he was in. During the day the window let too much heat in and at night it let too much cold in. The one, thin sheet he had did not keep him warm at all.

Jonathan Heller was a leader to one of the worst group of bandits in the West. He had been caught on their last bank robbery, which was in the town they were in. The others had gotten away with the money while he had been captured . . . quite willingly. It had been two weeks since he had been arrested.

The sheriff was asleep in his chair with his feet propped on his desk. On the desk was his revolver. Behind him was a gun case with three rifles and some boxes of ammo.

There were five other cells, all empty. On the wall behind the sheriff were numerous wanted posters, one happened to be his.

The sheriff woke up suddenly and rubbed his eyes. "Well, Jonny, I am go to the bar and grab a drink, you want to come, oh never mind!" The sheriff laughed, "Don't run off while I'm gone."

And he was gone.

Jonathan reached inside his pocket and grabbed a knife out of a hidden pocket inside his jacket. He stepped over to the window and found the bars lose. He smiled. His plan might just work. With the knife, he began to remove the lose cement from around the metal bars on the window.

Sheriff Larson put down his drink a few hours later and looked out the window in the bar. The sun was setting on the horizon and brilliant colors of purple, pink, red, and yellow filled the sky.

After paying for his drink he set of to the jail. It was cooler outside since the sun was setting. Sheriff Larson came in the jail and lit an oil lamp by his desk. Looking at Jonathan's cell, his mouth dropped.

Jonathan was gone!

Sheriff Larson unlocked the door to the cell and ran in to find the bars to the window gone, and Jonathan. Little did the sheriff know that Jonathan was still in the room hiding under his bed. Jonathan sprang out of hiding with one of the bars in hand. Sheriff Larson reached for his revolver, but not fast enough. Jonathan struck Sheriff Larson on the head, knocking him to the ground unconscious. Jonathan took the unconscious sheriff's revolver and ran from the jail.

Chapter 2

John Lowe split another lof with his axe and wiped the sweat frome his forehead. The sun was sinking into the horizon. Swinging the axe one final time into another log to keep the sharp edge of it from going dull. He put everything back in its place in the barn and fed the animals. After washing himself in the barn he set of to the house. Light and the sweet smell of food drifted from his home where his wife, Sarah was cooking.

As he entered the house he saw Sarah setting the table with plates filled with food. He kissed her and sat down at his usuall seat at the table and she sat opposite him. After saying the blessing, they began to eat. Thunder sounded in the distance.

"So," Sarah said after a while, "How was work today?"

"Fine," he replied. "Same as usuall."

They talked and ate, and around nine o'clock pm it started to rain. As the storm began, Sarah and John cleaned the dishes and did other chores that they did every night. Because of the rain and thunder, neither heard the sound of approaching riders on horses. The last thing John Lowe saw before he was knocked unconsious was five men with guns at hands breaking the door open and rushing into his house. John turned around to grab his revolver off the table but was hit from behind by the butte of one of the mens rifles. John fell to the floor as the world darkened around him. Sarah screamed, and the room faded.