The dark pressed down around them while the sand wormed its way into clothes, ears, noses, mouths, eyes. The grit stung as the force of the wind intensified until finally they could stumble no further. Unable to see the stars and without benefit of the full moon, Johnny wasn't even positive they were still on the trail.
Finding a shallow arroyo, they hobbled the horses and took what shelter they could find. Unable to talk over the howl of the wind, the men each retreated into his blanket to gnaw on beef jerky and sip at their water pouches. Through the swirling dust they could just make out the horses. Rumps turned into the wind, they stood in abject misery with lowered heads; their eyes closed and ears pinned back as they awaited the end of the storm.
Having run through the checklist of strengths and weaknesses Johnny now classed their situation as 'challenged'. Wondering how far off course they may have wandered, he looked forward to the coming dawn to get an idea of their location; and hopefully a break in the weather.
Hunkering down lower into his blanket, he tried to rest but sleep proved impossible.
His memories whirled back...
back to another time...
back to when Pa was sheriff...
back when life was simple...
to Mexico's All Saints Day...
...Dia de las Muetos was usually a quiet time in Victory. The Mexicans would travel home for the festivities and often not return for a week. This year however, the celebrations had come to Victory and both Johnny and Pa had been kept busy breaking up fights between townsfolk and the rowdy Mexicans.
As the night drew to a close the altercations became more violent and several threats were hurled at the two lawmen by intoxicated Mexicans and Indians. Johnny reveled in the madness and had become increasingly more combative until finally Pa had urged him home to rest. "Go get some sleep son, I'll see you at the office in the morning."
Still on an adrenalin high, Johnny had no intention of going home. Instead he made his way to the hayloft in the barn at the rear of the church. An owl hoot as signal and soon he was in the arms of his married lover, Claudia Chappelle.
After their loving, unwilling to move, they lay in the fragrant hay as Claudia loosened the leather thong holding back his hair. Running her fingers down as it cascaded over his shoulders, she mused, "I wonder if Ryan knows about us, I think he's getting suspicious... Johnny, you need to be careful."
"What's the Reverand going to do?, hit me over the head with his Bible?" he laughed.
"No, I'm serious. He believes all that religious stuff, 'an eye for an eye'. Sometimes he scares me."
"Okay, don't worry, I'll be careful, you know I'll do anything for you." He turned, pulling her down into the hay again, all thoughts of leaving having vanished.
Late to meet his Pa, Johnny moved quickly down the street, still picking hay from his hair as he swept it back and secured it with the leather. Placing his hat on the back of his head, he was so intent on his route he almost missed the body. Instantly recognised, he wept as he turned over the body of his Pa. Shot low in the back, Pa blinked his eyes in recognition of his son but was unable to move. Closing his eyes for the last time, he remained unconscious for two days before he stopped breathing.
And so at age 18 Johnny became sheriff of Victory. His hand on the Bible, he was sworn into duty with tears in his eyes and vengeance in his heart. It should have been the proudest moment of his life but he took no pleasure from it. Without his Pa it was meaningless. He vowed to hunt down the cowardly Indian or Mexican responsible and make them pay, no matter how long it took.
So when he saw the four Mexicans picking on the Indian kid a few days later he didn't take too much notice. They were all animals anyway he reasoned. A large crowd had gathered to watch and he wasn't noticed as he moved closer to the action. The men were pushing the boy, tripping him, making him crash heavily to the hard ground. They were obviously out to hurt, their blows not light. Why doesn't he stay down?, he mused. They'll tire of the game if he stops rising.
But they were taunting the boy, calling him a half-breed injun bastard over and over, their mocking laughter joined by those around them. Johnny noticed money changing hands, bets placed on the outcome. The kid was tiring, his nose bloody, but he still refused to stay down and Johnny realised how young he was; surely no more than seven.
A shout went up as the kid crashed heavily at his feet. Bending to help him, he was pushed roughly aside as a brawny Mexican pushed into the circle. With an impressive string of curses in both English and Spanish, the man dispersed the crowd and turned to the kid who sullenly pushed away the helping hand.
"Damnitall, I was winning, what did you do that for?"
"Winning? Winning what?" he was asked incredulously.
"I just have to be on my feet at the end of five minutes and then I win $1." he explained slowly, as if talking to two half-wits.
Thinking of his first encounter with Tony and Wolf, Johnny finally fell into a dreamless sleep.