Chapter 1
At the RedRock Inn, Dr Schultz is calmly reading a paper, sipping a cup of coffee. The morning light filters in and the town is starting to stir. Nearby the sound of a blacksmith hammering away, can be heard while a distant wagon rolls by. Heavy footsteps descend from the wooden staircase, it's the tall Mr Django, still sleepy but nevertheless ready for a new day. He takes up the chair opposite the bearded Doctor, and asks,
—What we got today, Dr Schultz? says Django, leaning back into the chair, his hand resting on his shoulder holster, like a soldier eager to be on duty.
Looking up from his paper, wearing small half-moon reading glasses, Dr Schultz didn't look too enthusiastic. He folded up the paper and put it away. He always spoke slowly when he didn't like a particular job.
—It's a lady this time, he says, removing the spectacles and folding them back, A bank robber by the name of Samantha Davison. She was small time, but in a recent heist she killed a young deputy. They've raised her bounty to a cool five thousand. Everyone will be looking for her in Bell Town, but I happen to know she has a boyfriend somewhere in the outlying area. A dirty outlaw, George Mahoney. My guess is that she'll be seeking safety thru him in this time of trouble.
—She dangerous?
—Not quite, she usually surrounds herself with muscle during the heists. But on her own, she's easy pickings. Its just that she often manages to slip away. She's quite clever, which explains why she's eluded capture for so long.
—Are we shooting her on sight?
—No need. If we can capture her alive, so much the better. Personally, I'd prefer to leave her to the hangman. He sighed. I don't like shooting ladies.
—Neither do I, Doc. says Django, taking out a cigar and lighting it. It ain't a gentlemanly thing to do.
Midnight. Samantha Davison waited with bated breath at the undertaker's workshop. A dead cattle rustler was lying guts open while being attended to by a morose looking man. This was her secret meeting place with her crew members. This night, she was expecting Peter Hickok, her brilliant safecracker. He was a wanted man himself and kept home, no one knew where. But one thing was for sure, nobody ever came to visit an undertakers workshop at midnight, not even the authorities. The smell was atrocious and the sights, were downright gruesome.
Samantha had with her, little green bags of cash. All with the faded logo of the Texas County Bank on the sides. She had divvied up the profit, and was awaiting her last accomplice to award his cut.
She ground her heel into the ground. Why is he taking this long? then she realised that perhaps the heat on them had perhaps gotten too much. Maybe he'd been captured. Maybe he'd been shot? What if the Marshall was coming this way already? Keep your cool, girl. She kept repeating to herself. Stay cool.
A rapping noise came from the door. The undertaker opened it. A muscly short cowboy entered, a man with a snub-nose and stern eyes.
—Pete! She whispered. What took you so long?
—I had to be careful, he said. I think the roads are being watched. I hear our bounty has gone up in value.
She swallowed hard. —Can't be helped I guess. The young deputy getting shot and all.
—You got my share, Sam? he held out a greasy hand.
She produced the faded green moneybags. —It's all there, Pete. Thirty thousand. Your fair share. You can count it if you want.
He opened the bags and sized up the weight of the cash bundles.—Nah, these are about right. he said, smiling broadly because of his immense fortune.
—You seen Georgey around, Pete? I gotta see him. Now I know he doesn't like me bothering him all the time. But I gotta ask him for advice.
The smile drained from his lips.
—You aint heard yet, Sam?
Samantha rode towards the entrance of Bell Town. The horse bore down at a furious pace down the desert road. Her heart was beating fast. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she was filled with dread of what she would see. The sharp hairs of the horse had begun to chafe her calves with the hours of riding. But she didn't care. She was full of thirst and didn't notice it. She hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday nor rest. She didn't care. He was gone, gone, gone.
And in the distance, she saw it. The lone tree.
Hanging on the higher branches, was the silhouette of her dear George. His face in a gruesome contortion of pain. That dear face, who brought her love, comfort, a sense of belonging, hung like a torn carcass in a butcher's shop.
She let out a heart rending cry that rang across the first streaks of dawn.
In the far distance, lying low on the ground, Django and Dr Schultz observed Samantha's gruesome discovery of lover's body hanging from an tree. She clung to his lifeless body paralysed with sorrow.
—Let's get her now! Django said. Gripping the rifle at his side.
Dr Schultz grabbed his shoulder.
—No. Let her grieve. he said firmly. She's come a long way, Django. It's the least we can do.
—Who would do such a terrible thing like that?
—The security of the Texas Stage Coach. They'd been trying to apprehend him for years. Now he's been hung to scare off the other thieves.
—I can't bear to hear a lady cry like that, Django lamented. Breaks my heart.
—Neither can I.
They lay low on the hill, just watching her.
She cut her George down from the tree, and lowered him slowly to the ground. She took out a canteen and lovingly wiped the dirt from his face, hands and feet. She combed his hair, closed his eyes and straightened his suit.
Although tired and hungry, she took out a shovel from her saddlebag and began to laboriously dig his grave. Django and Dr Schultz had dozed off as she'd done so. When they woke a little later, they were to touched to find her cradling his head on her lap as the sun rose high in the east. Running her fingers through his hair for one last time before finally covering him up with earth.
Dr Schultz sniffed once or twice.
—Have you ever seen that kind of devotion from a woman, Django?
—Can't say I have.
—I don't think I've ever been loved that way, or will ever be.
The doctor stood up and dusted off his clothes.
—Let's keep our distance and observe, he instructed Django. There's no need to arrest her just yet.