A REASON TO FIGHT

Jack Marston leaned against the railing on his front porch, watching the sun set. Only two days had passed since he had killed his father's killer, and he had been reflecting on his actions since his return to Beecher's Hope. He sighed and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lit the cigarette with a match, and took a long puff. He exhaled and watched the smoke slowly ascend toward the reddish-orange sky before it dissipated.

Off in the distance, a herd of antelope galloped to the east, panicked by something. A few seconds later, a pack of four cougars darted into Jack's sight, in hot pursuit of the antelope herd. One of them, presumably the alpha male, charged ahead of the main pack and set his sights on the closest antelope, one that looked young and wasn't running as fast as the main herd. The young antelope let out a panic sound as the stronger cougar swiped at the antelope with his paw, creating a huge gouge in the animal's side. Wounded, the antelope fell to the ground and was quickly surrounded by the rest of the cougar pack.

The moon had risen well above the horizon by the time Jack finished his cigarette and decided to go inside. He looked back one last time and through the darkness could barely see the cougar pack feasting on the antelope. The antelope was picked almost completely clean, and the pack was fighting for scraps now. Sighing, Jack entered the house and walked into his bedroom. He turned on the lantern beside his bed and picked up his favorite book, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. After just five minutes, however, Jack realized that he couldn't focus on the book and decided to turn off the lights.

Jack could not sleep for most of the night. Although he was satisfied with his decision to avenge his father's death, he couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. Edgar Ross had been the Bureau's top agent, and he remained one of its top associates until his death. Despite his flaws, he seemed to have the interest of the people at heart, and was always willing to protect the people from dangers.

Nevertheless, he was still the man who had killed Jack's father. For several years, Jack felt himself change; his emotions became less cheerful and more depressed and angry, and many a time he wanted to just let go and give up on life. But he had stayed alive to take care of his mother, and he had pulled himself together so as not to worry her. With her gone, Jack felt like his life no longer had meaning. At this point, he didn't care if he lived or died. And he certainly shouldn't care that he had taken the life of his father's killer.

But even with all of Ross's flaws, he was still human. People make mistakes, Jack thought, and Edgar Ross made a big mistake when he killed my Pa. But I don't know, maybe I made a mistake by killing him? He deserved to die, but what would Pa say if he knew what I had done? He never wanted me to live like that. But did I even have a choice? What if he decided to go after another innocent man? I did the right thing by killing him.

By the time Jack finally fell asleep, the sky was just barely beginning to get lighter. It was clear that Jack would not sleep well. Jack's dream was a replay of his encounter with Edgar Ross, only this time Ross won the duel. Jack could almost feel the bullets pierce his body as if it were really happening. He could feel the breath being sucked out of his body. He could feel the pain surging through his nerves, causing his internal organs to quickly shut down. He could feel his heart stop beating, and he could feel his vision become dark and murky.

This startled Jack awake. He gasped for breath and laid there in a pool of sweat, frightened by the vividness of his dream. Is that how he felt when I killed him? he wondered. Groggy but awake now, Jack slowly got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. He took a loaf of bread and a jar of jam out of the cabinet and made himself a sandwich. He then grabbed a glass from the cupboard, went outside to the well, and got himself a glass of water. Drinking it down, he went back into the house and ate his sandwich.

As he ate, Jack tried to think of what he was going to do with his life. The farm's bankrupt, the dog's run away, and come the end of the month I won't have anywhere to live, Jack thought to himself. The thought of being evicted by the county fro not paying taxes scared him. Maybe I should just run away somewhere and get away from it all.

While Jack was thinking, somebody knocked on the front door. Jack paused, wondering if the law had come for him. He hadn't considered the thought of getting caught for Edgar Ross's murder, yet he couldn't discount the fact that Ross was a very prominent figure in Blackwater law enforcement and that they would probably try to find his killer. But how could they have known it was Jack? Jack chuckled to himself, figuring he probably wouldn't have to deal with that for a while, if at all. After all, the law was inefficient much of the time. Or was it?

To his dismay and horror, a voice came from behind the door that said, "Jack Marston, this is law enforcement. We're here to speak with you. Open the door immediately; we have the home surrounded." Jack vaguely recognized the voice; it was Howard Sawicki, the Bureau agent he had talked to the day he killed Edgar Ross. Scared out of his mind, Jack quickly scurried to his room, hastily got dressed, grabbed his Schofield revolver and his Bolt Action rifle, and made a run for the back door. When he opened the back door, however, he was met by Archer Fordham, who quickly pushed his way into the house with four other officers.

Jack backed up out of the hallway and into the living room. Seven more lawmen entered through the front door when Fordham opened it for them. The house was completely filled with lawmen and jack had nowhere to run. "Don't try anything, Jack," Fordham warned, putting his hands up. "We just want to talk."

Scared and unsure how to respond, Jack said, "Why would I wanna talk to the law? Y'all killed my Pa! You're nothin' but scum."

"We just want to know if you had anything to do with the death of Edgar Ross," Fordham said. "Can you just give us that much information?"

Jack didn't respond to this, and he quickly thought about opening fire at the law officers. But I'm so outnumbered, Jack thought. I'd be lucky to take down more than one before the rest killed me.

"Jack," Fordham said calmly. He slowly walked toward Jack, then continued. "Did you or did you not kill Edgar Ross?"

Jack groaned in frustration. "So what if I did? Y'all killed my Pa in cold blood and thought nothin' of it."

"I'm going to have to place you under arrest," Fordham said, still maintaining his cool demeanor. "Just come easy, Jack."

Jack suddenly realized who Fordham was. "You...you worked with Edgar Ross! You took me and Ma to prison! I'd rather die than go back to one of them concrete cells!" And without even thinking anymore about it, Jack quickly got a hold of Fordham and put him in a headlock. He pulled out his revolver and placed it against Fordham's head. "You wanna try anything now?" Jack asked the lawmen in the room, angry and frightened at the same time.

Howard tried to shoot Jack without shooting Fordham, but the shot missed and lodged into the wall. Jack discharged two shots from his revolver and Howard fell to the ground, dead. Shit! Jack thought to himself. Just a second later, however, those feelings of fear and discomfort quickly dissipated, and were replaced by some sort of emotion similar to enjoyment. A smile crept into the corner of Jack's mouth as he slowly backed up toward the back door.

"Hold your fire!" Fordham ordered. "Release me immediately, Jack!"

"You shut up!" Jack snapped, jamming his pistol into Fordham's cheek. Once he reached the back door, Jack threw Fordham forward and made a quick sprint toward the barn. He tripped but quickly scurried back up after a bullet grazed his shoulder. He reloaded his revolver as the remaining eleven lawmen pursued him, sending a barrage of bullets his way. Jack returned fire and soon took down two more lawmen. When he reached the barn, Jack pushed the doors open shoulder-first and took cover behind the door frame. The surviving lawmen found cover behind some large rocks and an abandoned wagon and held their positions.

"I'm gonna die here!" Jack exclaimed. After gunning down three more lawmen, Jack sprinted for his horse, the palomino that his father had gotten from the MacFarlanes, and quickly jumped up on top of it. Just as Jack was preparing to gallop away, Drew Blankenship entered the barn through the back. Jack quickly drew his revolver again and shot Drew four times. Drew was able to limp out of the barn before collapsing a couple yards from the barn entrance.

As Jack galloped away, Fordham yelled to the remaining lawmen, "Two of you take Drew to the doctor in Blackwater! Everyone else mount up and pursue Jack with me!" Two men accompanied Fordham while the other two gingerly put Drew on a horse and rode carefully to Blackwater. Jack furiously spurred his horse forward, desperately trying to increase the distance between him and the pursuing lawmen. The horse became more and more frustrated with his rider. Just thirty yard behind Jack were Fordham and two other lawmen. Jack could tell that he wasn't going to lose them with his slow horse, so he drew his Bolt Action rifle and prepared to fire. One of the lawmen quickly caught up to Jack and yelled, "If you give up now, we won't kill you!"

"Why should I believe a lawman like you?" Jack asked angrily, sending two shots from his rifle into the lawman's chest. The lawman fell off his horse and was dead before he hit the ground. Jack looked off in the distance and saw Fordham and the other lawman riding fast toward him. Frightened again, he spurred his horse forward as the two officers fired in Jack's direction.

After several minutes, the old palomino had taken enough abuse and angrily bucked Jack off. "Shit!" Jack exclaimed as he fell to the ground. He could hear the lawmen's horses quickly catching up, and he got to his feet and stood boldly in the middle of the road, facing down the two lawmen as they covered the distance between them in just seconds. The officers dismounted their horses and trained their guns on Jack. The standoff was tense; Jack narrowed his eyes at the lawmen, by now completely disgusted by them.

"Jack..." Fordham's officer began, but before he could finish, Jack sent a single rifle shot into the man's mouth, killing him instantly. Jack then trained his gun on Fordham and asked, "You wanna surrender, or should I kill you like I killed your partner?"

"I just want to talk," Fordham said. "I know you're feeling hurt right now. You are absolutely entitled to your pain. But this...this isn't the way to handle it."

"And what makes you think I'd listen to a fool like you?" Jack asked. To his surprise, Fordham put away his pistol and raised his hands in the air to show that he wasn't a threat. Jack scoffed and put his rifle back in the sling on his back. He approached Fordham and said, "I just want to know one thing. Were you there when they killed my father?"

"I wasn't there when they attacked your farm," Fordham said. "I tried to convince Ross not to go through with it. Edgar and I were put in charge of John when he was working for us. I didn't like your father at first; my opinion of him was the same as Edgar's. But over time, I observed a change in him. He seemed to be sincere in his intentions to put his violent past behind him to secure a good future for him and for you and Abigail. John Marston was a good man.

"When Edgar told me he wanted to kill John, I tried to convince him that it was a bad idea. When he actually went through with it despite my warnings, I appealed to the courts several times to have Edgar tried in court."

Jack was silent for a moment, then said, "You have my attention now. Why didn't the courts listen to you?"

"Edgar Ross violated the Posse Comitatus Act of 1878 by using the army in his raid on Beecher's Hope. The act states that the federal government, in this case represented by Edgar and the Bureau of Investigation, cannot use federal military personnel to enforce state laws. John's criminal record was cleared after all the work he did for us, and since he didn't commit any crimes after that, for two years I appealed to the courts and fought for true justice.

"But Edgar had too much power, even in the courts. Whenever he was notified of an impending trial, he would bribe or talk his way out of it. They ended up commending him for his 'achievements' rather than trying him as the criminal he was. When he retired, I realized I would never be able to get him in court, so I gave up and instead focused on keeping the people of West Elizabeth safe. Eventually I worked my way to where I am today.

"Jack, I don't know everything you're going through, but I can guess it's not good. I understand why you killed Edgar Ross, and to be brutally honest I'm not sad to see that man go. But you have to face the consequences of your actions, especially the actions that unfolded minutes ago. That's part of being a man, Jack. You have to come to Blackwater with me and pay for what you've done."

Jack's demeanor immediately turned south again. "What makes me think you can make me go?" he asked. "You'd have to kill me, because I sure as shit won't let you put no handcuffs on me today. Besides...they'd put me to death for this. I'd rather kill myself than be put to death by the men who killed my father."

Fordham paused for a moment, then said, "Fine. I suppose I could ride back to Blackwater and just tell them that you escaped. But they won't stop looking until they find you. I suggest you get out of the country, go to Mexico. They'll still send men after you, but it'll take time for them to realize where you've gone. That should buy you enough time to come up with a plan to hide out and disappear for good. That's the only other way out of this."

"I been thinkin' about gettin' away lately," Jack confessed. "Guess Mexico's as good a place as any. I'll find a way to make it work."

"Exactly. Good luck, Jack," Fordham said, tipping his hat in respect. "I'll do what I can to prevent them from tracking you down. But you owe me for this." Jack watched Fordham ride away, and found that he had some respect for him. He's the only lawman I can trust, Jack thought to himself. Pa must have made a really good impression on him. Jack whistled for the palomino, and the old animal, still bitter over Jack's mistreatment, walked up slowly and cautiously. Jack went over and stroked the horse's snout.

"I'm sorry, old buddy," Jack said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. We need to get back to the ranch and pack up as much as we can. We're leavin' this hell hole called America as soon as we can."