This is a story about human endurance, hope, and redemption. Two men met in a prison. One, faced with years of deep, dark despair found the resiliency he needed to survive and the other found his moral compass. There is no character death. I don't own the story of Laramie, I just like to expand their universe. Warning: There is a lot of angst in this story - in fact emotion is going to leap off the pages at you. So beware!
Snow was falling lightly down when Peter reached the town. It had started earlier around noon and he had dug out his heavy winter jacket anticipating a long, lonely night ahead of him. He shivered as an icy wind whipped around him. 'I should have stayed in ST Louis' he thought.
The livery station was shuttered but the grizzly old man opened the door when he pounded on it and took his horse into the shelter for grain and water at a reasonable price. Peter debated between a scratch meal in the stall with his horse or a glass of whiskey at the saloon. The music and raucous laughter reached his lonely ears. 'It would be nice to be around people again' he thought as he pushed open the bat wings.
Saloons all looked alike, mostly, he noted. The bartender was usually old; the saloon girls were eager to share a drink and/or a bed; there was always a poker game going on and the conversations were loud and boisterous.
Peter took his whiskey bottle and glass to a mostly quiet chair in the back and huddled into the warmth of his jacket.
"Mind if I join you?" The man asked pleasantly. He was tall, with dark hair and mannerly. Peter nodded as the stranger took off his gloves. His fingers were smooth not at all like his calloused ones. The stranger was well dressed too. They had nothing in common.
"So, what do you say to my offer?" The stranger asked Peter much later after a hearty meal and several more glasses of whiskey.
"All I have to do is make sure he's fed and has water?" Peter could have been asking about his faithful companion but he was talking about a prisoner.
"Yeah, that's about it." The man took a drink from his nearly empty bottle. "He'll be no danger as he's shackled and you'll be twenty miles out of town. I'll take you there when the snow lets up. What do you say, boy? Pay will be $50 a month. There's a nice warm house for you and no one will disturb you."
"How long are you planning on keeping him prisoner?"
"Four and a half years, give or take."
"Shouldn't he be in jail?' Peter asked. The sentence seemed more fitting for the local jail or fort.
*What did he do exactly? "
"So many questions, Mr. Duncan." The man sighed. "Very well then, he must pay. His partner took five years out of my life and he is in my prison now. His partner will suffer."
'It was only a job' thought Peter to himself. 'The pay was good and the tasks were light.'
"What's his name?"
"You can call him Mister," the stranger, now his boss answered.