The wind was howling as the duster clad stranger appeared in the saloon. Honky piano music was being played, while the saloon patrons were indulging in either women or the demon drink. A game of poker was being played when the stranger took a seat at a table, ignoring everything that was going on. Horses neighed.
The stranger was heavily armed. A bolt action rifle was on his back, a lasso on his hip, a .45 revolver on his other hip. A Bowie knife hung on his hip as well, just above the lasso. A scarred hat with a feather adorned his head, while he wore a white shirt and a black vest. The duster was black as well.
Two seedy looking men shifted their gaze from undressing women to him, seeing how he was young looking. He looked barely a day over twenty, with a mustache and long hair. His hair was brown, a slightly lighter shade than usual. The two men were infamous for their actions, having killed over twenty people in the last three months, kidnapping people in Cholla Springs, stealing cattle, and raping most famous action however, was killing Leigh Johnson after he had retired, ambushing him on a train.
They were feared by the people of West Austin. But tonight, they would learn to fear as well.
They approached the young man, their hands lingering next to their holsters.
"Well, well, well, looks light we got us a bonafide boy trying to be a man! Listen boy, you give us that rifle and that revolver, then you can go on with your night," one of them said, his nasty yellow teeth snarling in an imperfect smile.
The stranger did not respond. All he did was look up.
And then tossed a coin.
The two outlaws were distracted by the coin, letting the stranger to whip his revolver from his holster. Pulling the trigger twice and with a flash of smoke and fire, Ike 'Hands' Bollard was no more. Two fist size holes were in his chest and the infamous outlaw slumped to the floor. The other, seeing his partner in crime dead, dived behind a table, pushing down, and drew the double barreled shotgun that was on his back.
Schofield in hand, the stranger was like lightning. Two gang members went down before they had time to think, and the remaining four managed to get into cover. With a roar, Dodge 'Shotgun' Bollard scrambled out of cover, his double barreled shotgun roaring. Buckshot tore into the cover the stranger was using, the table. But the stranger was not hit, and he popped out, his revolver flashing twice.
Three shots barked and two hit Dodge. The large bear of a man fell to the floor with a thud, .45 bullets in his leg and arm. The other shot tore through a man's head, leaving blood and brain matter all over the floor.
The remaining members of the Bollard Gang opened fire all at once, pouring everything into the table; revolvers and shotguns. It was quiet as they ran out of ammunition, pausing to reload. Then the stranger rolled out once more, his bolt action rifle in his hands.
The first outlaw didn't get a chance to pull his trigger. The .308-06 round tore through the top of his head, leaving him lifeless and dead. The second outlaw managed to pull the trigger once, though the shot went wide. The stranger's didn't.
The third and final outlaw went down with a cry as the the bullet tore out his throat, making him fall to the ground, and leaving him to choke in his blood. The stranger must have felt merciful, for he drew his revolver and shot him in the head, quieting his suffering.
The saloon was suddenly left quiet as eight members of the Bollard Gang were left dead or wounded. The two leaders of the infamous gang who had terrorized the town and the surrounding area for months were now gone. Ike 'Hands' Bollard was dead, two bullets in his chest, Dodge 'Shotgun' Bollard, wounded with bullets in his arm and leg.
The bartender, who had once seen a gunfight in his saloon go a little like this, was stunned. Not since Landon Ricketts and John Marston had such an expert gunslinger been in his establishment. In his hands was his own double barreled shotgun, used to deal when these outlaws got too rowdy.
"Thank you mister, these two outlaws have been causing trouble and the Marshall hasn't been able to take these men out. What's your name partner?" the bartender asked. The stranger didn't answer right away, only taking a sip from a whiskey bottle that managed to survive the shootout. He then smashed the bottle against Dodge's face, cutting his face with glass shards, and making the outlaw slump into deep sleep.
"Name's Jack. Jack Marston," the man simply responded, before placing twenty dollars on a table.
"For damages caused," and then he dragged the wounded outlaw out, heading toward Marshall Williams office.
Marshal Williams was, to put it simply, the most stressed out man north of Mexico. Outlaws were roaming in strength, people were being killed everyday, the federal government was up his ass again, and now there was this revolution going on in Mexico. On top of that revolution there were reports that there was this Mexican woman leading them and causing trouble on the border.
Then the Bollard Gang decided to go and murder the former Marshal, making him a prime target for assassination. Already there had been two assassination attempts, both of them ending up in him being shot in the arm or shoulder.
And he couldn't just go down to the saloon in Armadillo and force the Bollard Gang to give up. The Bollard Gang was a gang of fierce outlaws that would kill him easily. His deputies were half trained kids that needed a job and he spent as much time training them while protecting the people of his county.
His Winchester in hand, he and two other deputies were about to head toward the Twin Rocks in order to go and apprehend the Bollard Twins. The original twins had been killed and captured by John Marston, only for two more Bollard Twins to rise from obscurity. Hurray.
He placed a two thousand dollar bounty on both of them. A thousand a piece for being alive or five hundred for being dead. Just as he was about to set out, Dough saw a lone stranger heading towards them, dragging a large man behind him. Williams immediately realized that the dragged man was Dodge 'Shotgun' Bollard, famous for his infamous handling with his shotgun.
"Well, howdy Marshal. Just saw these lowlifes in the saloon and decided to turn them in," the stranger greeted, Dodge now thrown on the porch of the office. Marshall Williams glared at the stranger. He had a smirk on his face because he knew that he had just taken down the most dangerous outlaws in New Austin.
"Where's Ike?" the Marshal asked. He saw Dodge and he heard gunshots earlier. Must have been this young fella here.
"Dead with two bullets in his chest. Just ask the people at the saloon. Well mister, I just need my money and I'll be on my way," the stranger said quickly. The man was waiting impatiently. Fifteen hundred dollars were about to be his and he needed it for a reason.
"Alright partner. Doug, Eli, take this lowlife and throw him in a cell. Mister, come with me," and the two deputies, both of them the most experienced lawmen he had, dragged the unconscious outlaw to a brand new cell.
The Marshal took off his hat, before placing his repeater on the desk. The heat in Armadillo wasn't that bad, but he still sweated. He reached into a safe that was hidden underneath the floorboards of the office and pulled out fifteen hundred dollars.
"There. Fifteen hundred dollars for the capture of Dodge Bollard and the death of Ike Bollard. God be with you," the Marshall stated. The stranger thanked him before placing it in his satchel. His hat with the feather however, seemed familiar. That was it.
"Hold on mister. What's yer name?" the Marshall asked. There was a warrant for the arrest of the man who killed Edgar Ross a few months back. He just needed to know.
"Jack Marston," and before he knew it, Marston's revolver was in his face. Eli and Doug were back in an instant. Eli had his repeater aimed at the young man's head, while Doug had his sawed off shotgun aimed at the young man's stomach.
"Okay, Mister Marston, I just wanted to know. I'm not going to turn you in, especially since you just turned in the most infamous outlaws in this county. I'll tell you what. Since you gunned down Ike and captured Dodge, I'll give you a pardon letter. Head to the telegraph office. There's a bounty on you for a thousand dollars," Williams responded. Marston's face lit up with confusion as the Marshal slid a letter to him, adorned with the seal of the United States of America.
"Now get outta my office before I gun you down," the Marshal threatened, his repeater suddenly in Jack's face. The old grizzled lawman smiled wolfishly, before Jack got out the hell outta dodge.
Captain Maxwell Amos watched the border closely. His Mexican counterparts watched him closely. His bolt action rifle in hand, he was not going to let his guard down. Some rebels underneath a woman name Miranda Fortuna, were causing trouble. A new revolution was brewing and already, two of his men had been shot dead in an confrontation with rebels. The Ninth Calvary Regiment were famous for being the 'Buffalo Soldiers' and they were all fine men.
His soldiers were all jumpy. The rebels had launched a series of raids against the border outposts that the Mexican Army used, killing a dozen or so. He had just fifteen men to man the border checkpoints, spreading his numbers thin.
1914 was a messed up year. First, there was talk that Edgar Ross was going to be pulled back into government service. He didn't want that and no army officer would. He had been there when the Army had assaulted a ranch in Beecher's Hope, killing a former outlaw that had saved his life.
Edgar Ross was then killed in a duel in Mexico, in Rio Del Toro, by some boy named Jack Marston. There was a thousand dollar bounty on his head since Edgar Ross was such an important figure in the region.
It was just beginning to become light when suddenly gunshots barked. He lifted his head out of his tent only to see a large cloud of dust appearing from the north, heading towards him and his men. Four of his Buffalo Soldiers were already hidden behind sandbags, one was manning the machine-gun that faced the Mexican border and was facing toward the large dust cloud. He heard horse hooves clamping against the hard desert ground.
The rest of his men were gathering their arms and were now facing whatever was heading towards them.
Gunshots roared and one of his men went down, blood staining the ground. The khaki uniforms the black soldiers wore protected them in this desert environment by allowing them to blend in. One of his men raised his M1903 rifle and fired twice, working them bolt with practiced hands.
The dust cloud them became visible, striking fear into Captain Amos hands. Almost a hundred men, all of them wearing the dress of Walton's Gang, were charging his men, hoping to break through and head to Mexico.
He gave the order to open fire and silently prayed that he would live.
This is my second story. The second chapter of From the Dust is in the works so I decided to go on a loop and write the first chapter of Will of Gods and Masters, a Red Dead Redemption story that I have been planning for sometime. Please enjoy.
-Vita Tribuo