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The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
The moment the bullet hit him, Liberty Valance's despicable life flashed before his eyes.
"No!" he uttered. What is happening to me?
Ransom Stoddard, the green horn lawyer, standing before him still grasped his wounded right arm. Liberty had shot him moments before, sending the pistol flying out of his hand. Then, he had allowed this upstart to retrieve his gun for the semblance of a fair fight. Liberty had laughed hysterically through the entire torturing process until he tired of his game.
His tone turned deadly as he recalled his cryptic words. "Now, right between the eyes," he said as he cocked the pistol and took careful aim.
How could this nobody lawyer have actually shot him, Liberty Valance, while he had not been able to squeeze the trigger? Or had he? He heard two shots fired nearly simultaneously.
His body lurched backward from the bullet's impact. He reflected upon events of his life. Stepping stones of fear and intimidation had led him to this very moment, at this exact place in the street of Shinbone! He knew someday he would die in a gunfight, but surely not today! Time seemed to stop altogether as Liberty attempted to straighten from his hunched posture.
This man, a lawyer, shot him! Liberty detested his incorruptible integrity; despised his staunch belief in a law that had not yet permeated the western lifestyle of that out-land territory in the southwestern United States. Yet, he also envied; even admired him for his bravado. Naive bravado at best, Liberty mused, as he staggered sideways toward the street.
Many men thought they had the determination and guts to stand up to him! Through their deaths, his vicious reputation as a ruffian and bloodthirsty killer proved to all, that to do so spelled instant death.
Liberty Valance almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation he now found himself. If ever Liberty had thought God existed he had long forsaken the route to righteousness. Instead, he forged a broad and bloody road to hell, taking with him as many good and descent men and women as he could kill, and rape. Each death or bad deed added another notch on his despicable reputation. A reputation that he had nurtured from the moment he had left home. Had he ever led a normal life, he wondered as his knees began to buckle beneath him.
Ransom Stoddard started to walk away even as Liberty collapsed into the dusty street.
He blamed his overly cruel father for making him into the hometown bully. He could not fight his drunken father who lashed out at him both verbally and physically. But he could do so against other hometown children.
As he tasted dust on his parched lips, he wondered if even in this last gasping of life, would God forgive him for all the evil he had done to himself and others?
Barely aware of the saloon crowd gathering about him, someone pushed him onto his back with their foot. He recognized the doctor whom he had sarcastically paid, in advance, for his doctoring he might need after the gunfight. His eyes closed wearily. Forgive me God, for I have sinned.
In the fading moments of his life, he heard the doctor's pronouncement.
"Dead."