AN.: Thank you again for the nice words. Made my day. This one is a long chapter, but I didn't want to split it in half to match the length of my other chapters.
Please enjoy the read.

The Trial

The wagon slowly proceeded to follow its path over the uneven road, shaking and shuddering with every road hole, shaped by the brute force of mother nature. The passengers were tense, not letting their guard down for even a second. The men in the back of the wagon wore blue uniforms with yellow neckerchiefs neatly tied around their necks. They all felt the heavy weight of their weapons fastened to their belts and secured at their thighs. One of the guards took off his yellow glove and hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his bare hand. Next to him sat a man, his hands shackled and hanging down between his spread legs, pulled towards the wooden floor of the wagon by the weight of the chain. He wore a blue button up shirt, denim pants and filthy boots. He had gray hair which was slicked back and a long, gray beard which effectively hid half of his face. His brows were knitted together, and his blue, cold eyes stared lifelessly at his boots. The man seemed to be lost in thought, even a bit alien if you'd ask the tense guards. Their job was to transport the prisoner to the state jail, a job they've all done before; But they couldn't help the shudder from running down their backs as they had first encountered this man. They were used to transport filthy criminals who had shot someone in a robbery attempt and didn't have the brains to get away with it. Measly criminals like those were transported on a daily routine. The guards could all testify about the endless hours of begging and whining or even the attempts of bribery but today their prisoner was deadly quiet. Apparently, this man was wealthy and well-known and even loved and liked by his whole hometown. Out of nowhere, as if someone had pulled a trigger, he had felt the need to choke a woman to death just because he wanted to do it. On top of that, he showed no sign of regret or remorse during the trial. His deathly and calm demeanor didn't help him convince the jury or the judge and the trial ended with the decision to lock him away. The whole trial, the whole case was a mess;

The woman had been found dead in an alley next to a saloon by the witness who also stated he witnessed the whole murder. Unfortunately for the defendant, there were a lot of statements from various witnesses who testified they saw him making a move on the murdered woman. The defendant also couldn't provide an alibi for the exact time the witness had seen the murder happen. There was barely any evidence which would've been satisfactory for the jury and enough to put the man behind bars… until the last witness stepped forward. One Mr. Adam Cartwright. The defendant was a man with many connections and people having his back. As a store owner in Virginia City who sells clothes for a very reasonable price, he has made a name for himself. He had many friends in town, people who'd easily put their hands into the fire for him, especially the other store owners. His customers were treated like family and the wares he sold were of best quality. The name Mr. Wright had always put a smile on people's faces. He was invited to banquets and other parties and he always knew how to make those events more memorable. If you'd ask any of Virginia City's locals if they'd believe what the defendant was accused of, they would've laughed in your face. Perhaps, that would've been the case, if the witness wasn't Adam Cartwright. The Cartwright family owns the biggest land in Nevada and is responsible for many pleasantries and heroic stories. They are loved by their workers and friends and liked by not only the people of Virginia City but also of other cities around. Most importantly, they were respected for their hard work and known for not to be messed with.

Adam was called into the witness stand. He calmly sat down and waited for the questions.

"Mr. Cartwright, could you please elucidate what exactly it was you saw on the day the murder happened?" The judge asked. Adam once looked at the judge in acknowledgment before turning to the jury recounting the events of that day:

"It was late in the afternoon. I was in town for some tasks I've been sent to deal with and was just about to finish my chores when I heard someone scream from out of the alley. I was immediately on alert and went to see if anyone needed my help." Some members of the jury nodded their head in understanding. The Cartwrights were also widely known for their honor and for their willingness to help anyone at any time. Adam continued. "As I stepped closer to the alley, I saw two people, a man and a woman in, what I assumed at first, indecent positions." At that, Adam couldn't help lowering his gaze. "I was about to turn away when I heard an alarming sound again: Upon closer inspection, I realized the man was choking the woman. It all happened so fast and I was in shock from the pure brutality. The scene is still burned-in inside my head and it flashes before me when I close my eyes." The jury members had equally shocked expressions on their faces.

"What happened next Mr. Cartwright?" The judge asked, bringing Adam back from his reverie.

"I quickly turned to look for help. I shouted as loud as I could, but the streets were deserted, and my voice couldn't be heard over the noise emanating from the saloon next to me. I looked back at the alley and I was determined to go after the murderer myself when I saw that he had turned to look at me as well…" Adam took a break, his words lingering in the air. The room was deadly quiet, all the attention on Adam, waiting for him to continue. Meanwhile, Adam's gaze was hefted to the defendant's face, Mr. Wright, who appeared to be calmly seated across from the witness stand. But Adam could see the storm brewing in his icy cold eyes, could see the anger and hatred and the silent but deadly threat. Adam swallowed to ease his suddenly dry throat.

"And was it the defendant, Mr. Sherman Wright, who was looking at you at that moment?" The judge pressed for Adam to continue his statement. Adam played the scene over and over in his head. The moment the murderer had turned to him, his face was covered by the shadow of the building next to him, created by the setting sun gleaming its light upon the sleepy town. No matter how hard Adam tried to remember or how often he replayed the scene in his head, there was not one moment where Adam could clearly see the perpetrator's face and recognize Mr. Wright from his appearance alone. Mr. Wright having the most average body proportions wasn't exactly helpful as well. The only thing what had Adam convinced that it was Mr. Wright who had committed this gruesome act, was the fact Adam had witnessed the murderer perform the act of looking at a familiar watch out of habit only to realize while putting it away that he hadn't actually taken note of the time and therefore having to look at the watch again. It has happened to many people before, even to Adam himself but there was one person in town who was known for doing that, and that was Mr. Wright. The kids even made it a game to go up to the friendly man and ask for the time to see if he would need more than one look at his golden pocket watch until he was able to tell.

Now, Adam sat in the witness stand and knew, he knew that if he told that to the judge and jury, that the only thing he could state about the man was that he had looked at a pocket watch, was not enough to put the man behind bars. Adam's gaze wandered to Wright's face once again. He could see the hatred in the man's angled and sharp features and what was even more disturbing: There was a sparkle of hope in his eyes inflicted by Adam's hesitation. So, Adam did what was right in his eyes.

"Yes, I recognized Mr. Sherman Wright, the defendant, as the murderer." It was the truth, yes, he recognized him. Adam stated that sentence with as much conviction as he could muster and quickly continued his statement. "I tried to go after him by myself, but I lost him. I then went to check on the victim to see if she was still alive, but unfortunately, she couldn't be saved. I went ahead to notify Dr. Martin and Sheriff Roy Coffee and told them about what I witnessed and who I saw running away from the alley." Adam finished his statement and took a moment to calm his rapidly beating heart down. The room was in turmoil; There were friends and family of Adam, the victim and the defendant Mr. Wright in the audience. The three parties had started to insult each other, even standing up in the process, clenching their fists and teeth and barking at one another. Wright's friends send glares sharp like daggers at Adam while shouting, calling him a filthy liar. Wright's family members -cousins, if Adam recognized them correctly- openly threatened him and spat in his direction. The judge was furiously banging his hammer onto the table asking for silence with all the might of his authority. The guards in the room were ready to interfere if anyone decided to get physical. After a few exhausting seconds, the room was quiet again but seething and the judge and jury came to the conclusion that the witness's statement accompanied by the clues they were able to gather was enough to sentence the man to prison. The hammer went down with determination and the sound lingered in the air for what felt like an eternity. The rest of the day passed Adam by as if he was in trance; The fact that he provided the statement that was going to send a man to prison was already hard to swallow… Adam felt filthy… He had altered his statement to make sure that Wright was going to jail. What if it was a mistake and it had not been Wright who killed that poor woman? Adam accompanied by his father and brothers left the court only to be shouted at and spat on by familiar faces. Those were the people Adam knew and was friends with, but it was all too clear that they had picked a side. Adam also couldn't help but feel guilty and feel like that he deserved their hatred. Their actions are justified, Adam thought to himself, his heart pumping blood through his body at the speed of lightning, I am a liar. His family did their best to guard him off from the assaults while going through town back to the Ponderosa. They assured him that he did the right thing and that the people of Virginia City will calm down eventually, but Adam wasn't so sure about that.

From there on, Sherman Wright was imprisoned in a local cell waiting to be transported. His friends and family supported him by protesting on the street, screaming for justice and deploring the injustice that had taken place. They were so loud that Wright was able to hear them, and Sheriff Roy Coffee had to dissolve the crowd more than once to be able to prevent further riots.

The day of the transportation came, and Wright was shackled and stashed away on a wagon surrounded by soldiers who stood guard over him and was finally on his way to prison. The sun burned down on their heads as they bobbed up and down in the rhythm of the wagon's steady advance through the deserted land. The soldiers who guarded Wright were soaked, having to endure the heat in their loved uniform. The silence sat heavy on their shoulders but when Wright suddenly started to hum an unknown melody which, despite the heat, send shivers down their spines, they wished for the silence to return. The melody followed no pattern, it was unique, wild, rough and dripping with pride and pain. Then the notes shifted ever so slightly... a little more and a little more until a deep, rotten gurgle emanating from Wright's throat was the only sound filling the air. And then: Silence.

The guards almost jumped in the air when Wright's voice suddenly ringed in their ears. All eyes snapped towards their prisoner, the tension in the air so thick, you would've been able to cut it with a knife.

"No one was supposed to find out." Wright said, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the face of one guard, his voice barely above a whisper. He moved forward, inching his way towards the guard whose face started to contort under Wrights disturbing glare. "IT WAS MY SECRET" Wright suddenly roared, little drops of spit landing everywhere. The guards, alarmed at the man's behavior, had all drawn their weapon now. Only the young guard which was still pierced by Wright's gaze was frozen in place, pure fear visible in his wide eyes.

"Don't move! This is the last warning. If you don't behave we have no problem to use drastic methods to assure your cooperation!" One of the older soldiers said to the shackled man. Wright spun around in his seat, releasing the young guard's eyes and looked at the soldier who addressed him. He tilted his head and started to talk again.

"It was perfect. It was simple, smooth, trouble-free. It was my paradise. My own Paradise." His head spun around to look at the young guard once again. "But the one I chose rejected me! ME! She had no right to do that. No one does." He slowly lowered his crazed gaze and started to play with the chain attached to his wrists. Then his frame started shaking and the low hum of laughter soon filled the air. "Then this... this imbecile comes along! It's his fault that I lost her, yes yes... his fault alone. I saw it in his eyes, the way he looked at me. The look of smugness when he lied to all those people! He won't get away with that." Wright repeated those last words while shaking his head over and over again. The guards were all lost for words, all disturbed by the scene they just had witnessed and what they had heard. The young guard, whose wide eyes stuck to the man teetering up and down before him had drawn his weapon now as well. He pointed it at Wright with shaking hands. The way their prisoner had looked at him earlier had shocked him deeply to the extend of unprofessional panic. A few heartbeats with shaking hands and Wright's low murmur later and the greenhorn guard couldn't take it any longer.

"Sh-shut up!" He said, a tremble lacing his words while pointing the gun at the man's head. Said man looked at him again and started to laugh in the young guards face. The laughter sounded more like a roaring beast and made all the guards get ready to intervene. "I said SHUT UP!" The young guard screamed, standing up and putting his gun directly to the prisoner's head. The other guards tried to advance towards the hostile scene in front of them but quickly assessed, that their young comrade was clearly in distress and shouldn't be spooked if they wanted to arrive at the prison with their prisoner still alive.

"Clampton... calm yourself. Don't you see that he got to you? You have to stay focused! Put the weapon down." The older Soldier, the voice of reason, spoke softly to the young soldier, Clampton, trying to calm him down. Clampton, still pointing the shaking gun to Wright's head looked at his comrades from out of the corner of his eye. With the guards' attention focused on Clampton, they didn't even notice that their prisoner had stopped laughing, that his eyes turned calm and deadly and certainly not that he was waiting. The time had come.

With a fluid movement, he was out of Clampton's shooting range and on his feet. He grabbed the young soldier's wrist, painfully twisting the hand which was holding the weapon towards the nearest soldier and snaking his hand around Clampton's hand clutching the weapon, he bend his finger and pulled the trigger, shooting the soldier to his immediate right in between the eyes. The shot spooked the horses who immediately increased their speed and blindly careered through the wilderness. The next shot that rang out was aimed towards Wright but hit Clampton, who Wright had pulled in front of him to use him as a shield, directly in the chest. The soldier, whose gun was still smoking, looked at the light fading from Clampton's wide, fearful eyes with horror. The next thing the passengers of the wagon knew, was that their world tilted and then spun when their wagon crashed. The sound of wood and limbs breaking, pain-laced gasps and screams, even a neigh filled with agony echoed through the sky.

The older soldier opened his eyes, noting that the sun was not as high as it used to be a few seconds ago. A mix of dirt and blood assaulted his tongue and made him cough. There was a high pitched sound in his ear shutting out all other sounds around him. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his vision and hearing to be able to assess the situation.

P-taff.

There was a sound nearby, the soldier was sure of it. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't clearly make it out. It felt like his head was underwater...

P-taff.

This time, it sounded nearer and clearer at that as well. The soldier tried to twist his crippled body from his position, face down in the mud, towards the sound, but breathing alone used up all the power he had left. Suddenly, there were feet walking into the frame of his vision. Filthy boots, speckled with dirt and... and blood? Using all the strength he could muster, the wise soldier averted his eyes upwards until they rested on a man's face, blue and wide eyes piercing into his very soul and a smile reaching from one to the other ear plastered onto his bloody face. In his hand he held a revolver pointed directly at the wise soldiers face. He peeled his gaze from the crazy eyes in front of him and looked right into the barrel of the gun, loosing all hope with a final breath.

"And the last one." P-taff.

AN.: This was more of a whb and I'm glad that I got it out of my system. I had some troubles writing this but I like how it turned out and I hope you liked it as well. Please leave a review~