CHAPTER IV
EMERALD RANCH, NEW HANOVER, JUNE 7TH 1900
It was warm outside, but with a nice cool breeze. Morning had took its place and the sound of birds was its tune. Sawyer had limped out of Crowley's hut holding his ribs. It hurt him to simply move at this point and he knew it wasn't gonna ease up for quite some time. He wasn't sure how he was gonna be able to get to Valentine, either by walking or riding, given his injuries. Then he remembered something.
"Neigan... Shit..." The young outlaw whispered to himself, leaning on the wooden wall of the hut.
So much had happened since he had woke up that he had completely forgotten about his horse. The last time Sawyer had seen his stallion was at the camp with Roland, and Crowley had told him he'd been out cold for a few days at that point. He needed Neigan, or a new horse at the very least. If Roland had killed Neigan, all he had done was doom himself to a more painful demise.
But Sawyer didn't let it worry him. Instead he kept limping through Emerald Ranch, taking in the peace and serenity that the place offered him. With his mind consumed by thoughts of Payne and how he was gonna get to him, Sawyer knew that he had to keep his cool if he wanted things to go his way.
As he strolled down the dirt path, Sawyer saw that the ranch had a stable, a pen full of sheep and even a small shop stall next to a barn where a guy seemed to be selling and buying jewellery and the sort. That was where Crowley was, standing with another cigarette lit, talking with the stall owner. Wasn't long before the old doctor noticed Sawyer and waved him over.
"Managed to get yourself up then?" The doctor called out, the cigarette between his lip and moustache.
"Sure did, but not without lack of trying." Sawyer replied, his voice still strained.
Only now that Sawyer was outside the hut and into the fresh air of The Heartlands, did he notice how tall Ted Crowley was. In another life, he could've been a pretty intimidating outlaw, Sawyer thought.
"Those ribs be back to normal in a few weeks, I should think." Crowley nodded, his eyes squinting from the sun.
"Fingers crossed, I guess." Sawyer replied, looking around the area, "Listen, Ted. That day you and your boy found me up by Kamassa. You happen to see a horse near the camp too?"
Crowley blew out the smoke from his old and tired lungs, "Yeah that we did. Guess I forgot to mention it, what with you waving a knife at me earlier and such."
Sawyer winced, "Still sorry about that."
"Just messin' with you, son." Crowley laughed, flicking the cigarette end away.
Things almost seemed to good to be true. Ted had practically saved Sawyer's life, but the old fella had also brought Neigan back too. The young outlaw was bracing himself for something, anything at all, to go wrong. He didn't deserve any of the good fortune that had befell him. Not yet anyways.
"We got the big guy in the stable, I'll take you to it."
"A'ight, appreciate it. I really do."
"Ain't no problem." Crowley said before turning back, "See you later, Seamus!"
"Yup!" Shouted the man behind the Fence.
Crowley put a hand on Sawyer's shoulder and led him in the direction of the stable. Everyone around the place gave nods of respect and welcoming smiles in-between doing their daily chores. Most had their own little huts or cabins, with a special someone living in the one big pristine house that watched over the ranch. The young outlaw felt, for a few moments, like he could just stay at Emerald Ranch. Work for his keep, like all the other honest men of the world. The place was so peaceful. It didn't even have that many folks in it, but those that were there, seemed genuine and welcoming. Sawyer could just feel it feeding the guilt he already had. The sort of people at the ranch were probably the same sort that he and Roland had robbed, beaten or even worse in the past. Soon, his idealistic thoughts were buried, just as fast as they'd started.
"How'd you get yourself in that mess, son? If you don't mind my asking?" Crowley said, very understandably curious.
"Best I keep it to myself, Ted." Sawyer replied, quietly and cagey.
"Your way, young one. Just being a little curious is all. You get that more at my age." The old man said, making light of the situation.
"Guess being a doctor only makes it worse, huh?" Sawyer smirked.
"Your goddamn right." Crowley sighed and glared at once.
"How long you been doing what you do?" Asked the injured outlaw.
"Since god was a kid."
Sawyer laughed, then coughed "That long huh? Guess it's long enough to get good at it."
"Well I guess everyone else can be that judge." Crowley smiled back, taking out another smoke from his pocket.
As the old doctor lit the match and Sawyer heard the ember burn, the two walked further up the dry dirt path for a moment in silence. The Heartlands were a sight to behold. On a clear day like it was, you could see nothing but grassy fields and hills for miles. Across the chaparrals you could see the tall, nature-made rock monuments that stood high above New Hanover. Far enough north, Sawyer could even see the cold mountains of the Grizzlies up in Ambarino. It was there in those snowy winter lands that Sawyer always felt like going whenever the weather got too hot down south.
"So you got a place in mind where you'll be heading next?" Crowley asked, dragging Sawyer back out of his own mind.
"Valentine, that's where I've decided." Sawyer admitted.
"Well it ain't far from here, just maybe an hour or so west. We'll get you your stallion and get you on your way." Said the doctor, such a comforting man with a reassuring voice.
Sawyer felt so grateful to Crowley, yet so bad for keeping so much hidden from him. The young outlaw felt as though he didn't want to disappoint the man he hardly even knew, yet owed so much to. He then couldn't keep it to himself any longer.
"Alright, I guess I owe you an explanation or two, Ted." Sawyer said, stopping mid walk.
Crowley turned, "It's your business, son. All I did was my job. You don't owe me a damn thing."
"I'm an outlaw." Sawyer admitted, bluntly.
"Yeah? I figured as much." Crowley said, shrugging his shoulders.
"You figured as much?"
"Son, I do my job day in and day out. Stitching wounds, removing bullets, sometimes even telling poor folks they're gonna die. I see a lot of strange things and even stranger people. An outlaw ain't that uncommon. Not in this land, anyway." Told the old man, puffing away at the cigarette.
"You heard of a man named Roland Payne?" Sawyer glared, his voice straining again.
Crowley took another long drag, "I have. Should think everyone has around these parts."
Sawyer sighed, groaned and then walked closer to the old fella.
"I was the man that rode with Roland Payne. If you've heard of that monster and the shit he's been causing across the state, then you've heard of the young pup that he's been doing it with." Sawyer fully admitted, guilty of himself.
Crowley was quiet, didn't seem to really care, he just kept smoking. Sawyer wasn't sure what to do, so he kept talking.
"Payne was the one who left me for dead up there. He's the one who killed the woman and her boy. It was that walking demon that left the bullet in my fucking mouth." Sawyer continued, the anger and rage in his voice becoming ever so clear.
Again, Crowley said nothing. His latest cigarette was reaching the butt. With his tired eyes and big old moustache, the old man just kept still and continued to listen to the young one.
"I tried to stop him murdering the woman and her kid. But I fucking failed." Sawyer said, almost a whisper at the end. He still had so little energy and was still filled with so much guilt.
Sawyer turned away at that point, feeling it would be wrong to look Crowley in the eye after everything he had done for him. The young outlaw felt guilty. Guilty that he had kept this from Ted, guilty that he had not managed to save the woman and child and guilty that he had not stopped Payne earlier in their days together.
"So you're goin' after him?" Crowley asked, breathing out the last of his smoke and finally making a sound.
Sawyer just stood, holding his ribs and wincing a little bit. After a moment of hesitation he finally looked back at Crowley and simply nodded.
Crowley spit on the ground, "Come on, let's get you to your horse."
Sawyer listened and watched as Crowley started walking again. The young outlaw soon followed.
In the stables, among the damp wood, smell of manure and hay there were many horses. All different but similarly beautiful creatures. One mare was a gorgeous cream colour with white hair. On the other side there was a horse as black as the night sky but looked as strong as an oak tree. As the stable-hand was about to wash and brush the next horse along, Sawyer spotted that it was his own.
"Hold on a second, partner." Sawyer said quietly to the stable-hand.
The man in the dirty overalls stopped and watched as Sawyer looked at Neigan and calmly approached.
"Hey boy... It's me." Sawyer said gently, opening the stable gate and getting closer to his brown stallion.
"Fella was a little nervous when we found him. Had to lead him hear from a distance otherwise we might've lost him." Crowley said.
Sawyer smiled and finally got close to Neigan. The young outlaw wondered for a minute if the horse recognised him yet, but then finally Neigan started gently nudging his owner with his damp nose.
"There we go. Good boy." Sawyer said with a chuckle, patting and gently stroking Neigan's face and neck.
Eventually the dirty stable-hand passed Sawyer the brush and let him clean up his own horse for a short time. Sawyer felt less alone now. As welcome as he had been at Emerald Ranch, he still felt like he was on his own. But now he had Neigan, which felt like being reunited with an old friend. After all, Neigan was about the only real loyal companion Sawyer had ever had.
"When you're ready I'll meet you outside, son." Crowley said, smiling and nodding before walking out of the stable.
Sawyer listened and watched the doctor leave him with Neigan. The young outlaw was still astonished that Crowley had seemed to pass no judgement. But the day wasn't over yet.
"Let's get outer here, hey boy?" Sawyer asked Neigan before struggling to climb up into the saddle.
Once he was on Neigan's back holding the leashes around the horse's neck, Sawyer took a few moments to catch his breath and let the pain in his ribs subside. He knew it was gonna be a hard and rough ride with his ribs being in the state they were, but he had to do it if he was gonna find the son of a bitch.
The smelly stable-hand opened the gate, Sawyer rattled the leashes and Neigan trotted on out of the enclosed space and then turned left out into the fresh air and breeze. Once he was outside, Neigan got a little excited about being back in the open air and started to gallop a little bit around the area outside the stable. Crowley had to back up against the stable's wall to get out of the horses direction.
"Whoa, boy!" Sawyer shouted and groaned, "Easy now!"
Neigan trotted around and even reared for a brief moment. He'd clearly gotten tired of being in the stable for all those days.
"Easy! Shhh!" Sawyer said, calming the stallion.
Soon, Neigan did as his owner said. The horse slowly and gradually calmed down and reduced the gallop back to a slow trot.
"Yeah. That's it. Good boy."
"Quite the mount you got there!" Crowley yelled out.
"I guess he's happy! More than can be said of the fool sitting atop of him!" Sawyer replied, trotting over to the elder doctor by the stable.
"Here, take this." Crowley said, holding his hand out.
Sawyer took from him a wad of cash. There must've been $60 at least as the young outlaw took a quick count. He was stunned, his mouth catching flies.
"I can't take this, Ted." Sawyer shook his head and held the cash back out.
"You goddamn can, and you will."
"After everything I just told you? It took a lot for me to be honest."
"And I appreciate that you was honest." Crowley said with a nod.
Sawyer sighed again before reluctantly dropping the bundle of notes into his satchel. He didn't deserve such kindness. Not yet.
"Valentine's just an hour west. Like I said." The old man said, pointing.
"I can't thank you enough." Sawyer said.
"You thanked me enough the first time you thanked me at all."
"Well what can I do to repay you? There's gotta be something." Asked the young man, his voice almost desperate.
"Just be safe." Crowley said, taking out yet another cigarette, "You might've been one of the bad ones, or at least rode with one of the bad ones. But it looks like you've got yourself a second chance, son."
Sawyer listened but again found it hard to maintain eye contact. Instead he breathed in the fresh air, listened to the birds and took in the surroundings again.
"Not many of us get a second chance. So make the most of it." Crowley ordered, lighting the match and then the cigarette.
"It's what I plan to do... Once I find him." Sawyer replied quietly.
"If that's what you gotta do, son. But remember this, revenge ain't gonna solve much. Once he's gone, there'll be someone else to replace him."
Sawyer shook his head, "Believe me, Ted. Payne's not replaceable. He's gotta be stopped, and I'm the one taking up the task."
Crowley simply nodded out of respect, but his face told a different story.
Sawyer then nodded back, "Doctor Crowley."
"Sawyer." Crowley smirked again, his moustache slanting, "Good luck to you."
The young outlaw then rattled the leashes again, this time faster and Neigan was more than happy to obey. Sawyer's horse bolted a little bit as it shot off into a gallop down the dirt path, leaving Crowley behind. With every gallop and trot, Sawyer felt his ribs scream at him, but if he was gonna make it to Valentine, it was something he was gonna have to deal with.
Residents and workers at Emerald Ranch watched, nodded and waved to Sawyer as he and Neigan sped through fast on their way out. Sawyer had spent only a few conscious hours there, but he knew he was gonna miss it. In a world as ugly and evil as the one he lived in, Emerald Ranch had so far been the friendliest and most welcoming place Sawyer had been to. Then again, it was the first place he'd been in New Hanover without the company of Roland Payne. A truth that could not be ignored.
Everything got quieter as Sawyer got further and further away from the ranch, finding himself getting deeper into The Heartlands. It was a beautiful green chaparral. The young gunslinger rode on his horse and took in the surroundings in a way he hadn't done before. Before this, he'd constantly been looking over his shoulder, to see if he was being followed or if Roland was about to kill someone. Now he had the chance to really bask in the glory of where he was. On one side of the path he could see herds of Buffalo running in the opposite direction and on the other a small group of deer's who vanished as quickly as they appeared.
It had been so long since Sawyer had felt so at ease, despite the surging pains through his cracked ribs. He was still grunting and groaning with every gallop Neigan made, but the scenery was enough to dull those aches.
Sawyer rode for a good half hour, stopping only once to make sure he was heading in the right direction and to pick some herbs off of some plants. Herbs that had been known to help with pain if there was no other remedy. Neigan had then carried him further along the roads towards Valentine, passing through the same tall rock monuments that Sawyer could see all the way back in Emerald Ranch. It was then that Sawyer finally saw someone else coming towards him from down the hill in front. Having spent most of his journey taking in the views and trying to fight back the rage-filled thoughts of the man he was hunting, Sawyer had not even noticed that he hadn't passed a single soul.
The strange rider ahead was wearing a long dark coat that went down to his knees. It was an older guy, older than Sawyer at least. The horse he rode on was grey and dirty, stopping very suddenly with a skid in front of the young outlaw causing Neigan to rear upwards and let out a yell.
"Help you, mister?!" Sawyer called out, coughing and waving away the dirt and dust that the man's horse had blown in his direction.
"Certainly can, boyo!" The stranger replied, his voice broad Irish.
Sawyer patted Neigan to calm him again while waiting for the Irish stranger to continue. That was when Sawyer felt someone grab his belt. The young outlaw turned and saw another stranger, long haired, brown teeth smirking, pointing a Schofield Revolver up at him.
"Off the fucking horse, boy." Growled the other stranger, this one not Irish.
Sawyer didn't reply or obey. Instead he chose to simply stare back at the ugly man. This turned out to be a big mistake as the stranger than dragged Sawyer off of Neigan quickly and roughly. Sawyer hit the ground hard on his side, sending an explosive pain through his abdomen. The young outlaw yelled in pain, squirmed on the floor, hoping and waiting for the pain to end. The Irish stranger and his dingy friend could do nothing but watch and laugh.
"Get him up now, Harry. We can't have him doying on us." Said the Irishman, still laughing.
Chuckling and grinning with his rotten teeth, the ugly stranger grabbed Sawyer and started pulling him to his feet. Sawyer put in all of his own weight so that the stranger would struggle. The young outlaw was still finding it hard to breath as he was being pulled and dragged.
"Get up, you little shit!" The ugly man shouted, trying to hoist Sawyer up from the ground.
"Come on out now, we've got him! A lot easier than we thought lads!" The Irishman then called out to the field next to them.
Another stranger, also wearing the same long dark coat and wielding a Pump-Action Shotgun, stood up from behind a bush on the plain just next to Sawyer. He kept his aim on the young outlaw, now dirty from all the dirt and dust from the ground.
"Bloody hell, Roland was royt about you. You really haven't got anything in ya!" Said the Irishman with a smug face.
Sawyer heard that loud and clear. The Irish raider had mentioned Roland. These men had seen Roland Payne. And that was when Sawyer realised he'd been held up by a bunch of O'Driscolls. These were a toxic gang that were notorious in New Hanover. Ever since Colm O'Driscoll, they're leader, was hung the year before in Saint Denis, they'd became even more unhinged than they were before. Now they took orders and jobs from the highest bidder. Sawyer knew they were a bunch of hideous, cowardly marauders, but to take orders from Roland Payne put them on an even lower level than before.
"If I have to tell you to get up again, boy! I'll shoot you right here and now!" Shouted down the ugly O'Driscoll.
Sawyer waited another moment for the raider to grab him again and then made his move. The young outlaw pulled out the small knife from Crowley's medical table, pushed away the O'Driscolls gun hand and shoved the blade deep into his gut.
"Fuck!" Shouted the Irishman.
Sawyer yanked the blade along to the waist and heard the ugly O'Driscoll shriek and gargle on his own blood. As he lost strength in Sawyer's arms, the young gunslinger used his body as a shield and slyly took the Schofield from his limp hand.
"Shoot him! Quick ya daft bastard!" Pointed the O'Driscoll, yelling in panic and backing off.
The shotgun-wielding O'Driscoll looked between the men, not really knowing what to do and then aimed his gun at Sawyer, who was still shielded by the dead man. But it was too late, as Sawyer then shot the armed raider once in the chest and then once again in the head. Thankfully he'd had practice in the past using his left hand.
Only the Irishman then remained, who tried to climb back on his horse which reared in fear and bolted off at high speed, sending him flying back into the dirt.
Sawyer scowled in pain and anger before tossing the body he'd used as a shield to the ground like a rag-doll. As he needed some questions answered, he had to make sure that the Irishman didn't get away or pull out some hidden gun. Sawyer then aimed closely, this time with his right hand, and shot the sniveling O'Driscoll in the back of the shin as he tried to get up and run away. The idiot hit the ground face first and dragged out a loud scream that startled nearby birds.
"You daft prick! That's me leg!" He screamed, his voice starting to irritate the young mans ears.
Sawyer let the man crawl and bleed whilst he grabbed the two bodies and looted both. The young outlaw found more cash and some rings and bracelets that he could sell, probably already stolen from someone else. But most importantly, he took their holsters, the Schofield revolver, Pump-Action and whatever ammo there was. Now Sawyer felt more like himself, even if his ribs still hadn't really calmed down from the fall.
"Ah! Fuck! Argh!" Groaned and moaned the remaining O'Driscoll, trying to crawl away but getting nowhere.
Sawyer whistled out loud with his fingers. Neigan was just a few yards away in the grassy plain, but he wouldn't come back until Sawyer's whistle told him it was safe. The big brown stallion came galloping back right away. When he got to his owner, Sawyer patted him on the face gently.
"That's a good boy." He told the horse calmly.
Turning then to the crawling Irish raider, he saw that he hadn't made it but a few yards, his leg still bleeding heavily. Sawyer kept the Schofield equipped and approached him slowly. Once he was standing over him, Sawyer pressed his right boot down onto the bullet wound. Even the young outlaw himself winced at the sound of the scream the O'Driscoll let out next. It even echoed through the gigantic rock pillars that stood over the land.
"Where is he?!" Sawyer shouted, pressing his foot in hard.
"Ahh, fuck! Who?! Who ya on about?!" Cried out the cowardly raider.
"Payne!... Roland Payne!" Sawyer growled, clicking back the hammer of the Schofield.
Eventually, after more pressure, the Irishman didn't even have the energy to scream. He whimpered, his eyes watering, and looked as though he was about to pass out.
"I've got some healing tonic's and a bandage in my bag." Sawyer whispered, now crouching down, "It's yours if you just tell me where he is and why he sent you."
The Irishman panted heavily and stared into Sawyer's eyes. He was frightened of the much younger kid.
"Al'royt! You win, boyo!" He yielded, "He told us to get your arse, either kill ya or bring you back to him!"
"Why?" Sawyer asked, the gun aiming closer to the man's head.
"He's troying to test your metal, laddie! Said you was his road-wife for a while! Now he want's you put to bed!" Admitted the O'Driscoll, the strength in his voice failing.
"Then he should've killed me when he had the goddamn chance, the stupid cocksucker." Sawyer growled with a grin of his own.
Sawyer then stood back up over the bleeding man, "Now, where is he?"
The Irishman looked up, still weak, "Last we saw he was in Valentoyne... But that was days ago, said he'd be going further North of there eventually. Told us to bring you to him up there if we nabbed ya!"
Finally, Sawyer had some answers and a lead to go on. He nodded to himself with satisfaction and then looked back to the Irishman.
"So... About those bandages boyo..."
Sawyer smiled, nodded and then responded by shooting the O'Driscoll straight in the face. Now there were three dead bodies left on the bloody and grassy plains of The Heartlands. Wouldn't be the first ones and wouldn't be the last. The young outlaw then holstered his Schofield and climbed back onto Neigan, who seemed to shake with a hint of joy that his owner had mounted him once again. Sawyer laughed and patted the stallion on the neck.
"That's right boy, we're gonna get him." Sawyer said aloud, to Neigan and in some ways to himself.
Then with a whip of the leash, Neigan started to gallop fast away from the bloody scene and on the way to Valentine, which after another few minutes, finally came into view across the plains.