JUSTICE IN RIO DEL TORO

Just a few hundred yards away from the spot where Jack had killed Edgar Ross, Phillip heard the five gunshots from Jack's gun. He frowned and said, "I guess the poor boy got on his bad side. I better go talk to my brother about it." As Phillip was standing up, he saw Jack ride up fast and whiz quickly past, not even making eye contact with him. He noticed that while Jack looked like he was in a rush to get away from that location, there was a slight hint of satisfaction on his face. A bit confused, Phillip grabbed his gun and walked to the spot where just a minute earlier his brother had been gunned down.

While Phillip didn't know exactly what had happened, he feared the worst. His brother was, after all, responsible for the demise of many gangs of outlaws, and it was possible that the boy belonged to one of them and had come for revenge. Phillip shook his head, ridding his mind of these thoughts. It's probably nothing, he thought to himself. My brother probably just got mad that he couldn't shoot one of the ducks. I'm gonna check on him, though, to be sure. "Edgar?" Phillip called out, peeking through the bushes. Did that boy hurt yo-"

A gigantic wave of sadness immediately overcame Phillip when he saw his brother's body lying on the river bank. He collapsed to his knees, tears flowing down his face, and cried out, "No! No no no no!" Just an hour earlier, Edgar had stated his intention to hunt ducks along the river, and now he was dead. Completely forgetting about Jack, Phillip crawled over to Edgar's lifeless body and held it close. By now, Edgar was beginning to grow cold, and his joints were stiffening quickly. Phillip could barely see his brother's face through the tears that were flowing out of his eyes.

"I gotta tell someone about this," Phillip said aloud. "They gotta catch my brother's killer." Phillip quickly sprinted back to his camp and climbed on his bay, a nine-year-old horse that still ran like a young one. He quickly rode to Lake Don Julio to tell Emily, barely able to see where he was going. The day before, he and Edgar had said their goodbyes to Emily, telling her that they would be back in a week, but now all of that had changed. Edgar was dead and Emily was a widow.

Within an hour, Phillip's horse came sliding to a halt just outside the cabin. Sensing some kind of urgency, Emily rushed out of the cabin and asked, "Phillip, what are you doin' back so soon? Where's Edgar? And why are you crying?"

"He's dead," Phillip choked. "He was killed." Emily's eyes opened wide, and she couldn't stand. She leaned over the porch railing, tears falling down her face. She remembered that conversation she had had with the young man who came asking about Edgar. She had said that there was no reason to worry about Edgar and that he was safe from harm. Unable to bear the news any longer, Emily fainted, collapsing onto the porch.

Phillip became angry at seeing this. He was enraged that anyone would be willing to harm not only his brother, but his family in general. In Phillip's eyes, his brother's murderer had no regard for anyone's feelings except his own, and he needed to be brought to justice immediately. Phillip decided that he needed to ride to Armadillo so that he could send a telegraph to the Bureau of Investigation. Before riding off, Phillip climbed onto the porch of the Ross home and carried Emily to her bed.

"Don't worry, Emily," Phillip said, "we'll catch his killer. I ain't gonna rest 'til they catch him."

The sight was still difficult for Phillip to bare, even though he had seen his brother's bloodied and lifeless body just the day before. On the scene were a dozen of the finest lawmen and Bureau agents in Blackwater, including the recently elected chief of police Archer Fordham. Emily was also on the scene, weeping intensely. She felt like part of this was her fault, as she had told Jack that there was no reason to worry about Edgar. She was comforted by Phillip, who continued to mourn the loss of his brother. As the two of them mourned, the group of lawmen investigated the murder as thoroughly as they could. The group discussed how best to proceed with the investigation.

"I want six of you to interview Phillip and Emily, see what you can get out of them," Fordham said, pointing at six of the lawmen. "The other five will be with me. We'll investigate the scene of the murder and try to figure out exactly what happened when he was killed." Half of the lawmen approached Phillip and Emily, while the other half stayed behind with Edgar Ross's body, which had been partially snacked on by coyotes by this time.

Fordham knelt down and examined Edgar's body. Despite the bite marks from the coyotes, Fordham could see five bullet wounds, three of which were in Edgar's chest and two of which were embedded in his skull. There were no other visible wounds, so Fordham proceeded to dig through Edgar's pockets. All of his money and a valuable-looking gold pocket watch were still there, leading Fordham to believe that this crime wasn't committed by a robber.

One of the Bureau agents, Howard Sawicki, asked, "You think this was a robbery?"

"No," Fordham responded. "He still has all of his money."

"How many times was he shot?" Drew Blankenship, another lawman, asked.

"Five times, thrice in the chest and twice in the head," Fordham said. He stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants. "I haven't spoken to this man in a long time, but I never thought I'd see him like this."

"None of us did," Drew said sadly. "He had his bad days, as we all do, but he was a good man overall."

Fordham scoped the area for bullet casings. Sure enough, after about thirty seconds of searching the area, he came across one. He held the little casing between his fingers, examining it carefully. He determined that it was a .45 caliber shot that was most likely discharged by a revolver. He stated his findings to the small group of lawmen, and Drew wrote it down in a small notebook that he was carrying with him. Fordham scanned the area for more clues, and a couple minutes later found some boot prints. The boot prints originated at the top of the hill to the south of the scene and ended just ten yards from the body of Edgar Ross.

Ten yards, Fordham thought to himself. That's the standard dueling distance. Working on a hunch, he moved closer to Edgar's body and, sure enough, found more boot prints very close to Edgar's body. Fordham examined the boot prints carefully, then took a look at Edgar's boots. He observed that they matched perfectly and were exactly ten yards from the other set of boot prints.

Fordham had pretty clear evidence, and announced, "Somebody killed him in a duel."

"How can you tell?" Howard asked, approaching Fordham, who was standing at the river bank near Edgar's body.

"I found some relatively fresh footprints that originate near Edgar's body," Fordham said, pointing at the first set of prints. "Follow me." The two climbed to the top of the hill and Fordham pointed at another set of footprints. "These footprints were likely made by the duelist, who was approaching Edgar at this time. The last set of prints is at the top of the hill up there."

"But how can you tell this man didn't just shoot him in the back?" At this, Fordham directed Howard to Edgar's footprints again, and pointed out that they were just ten yards from the other set of footprints, the standard dueling distance. In response to this, Howard added, "Could be true, but that still doesn't explain how you know for sure that it was a duel. Maybe Edgar turned around and was shot before a duel could take place?"

Fordham conceded. "You could be right, but I suppose the circumstances behind his death don't matter as much as the identity of his killer."

"Got any idea who it could be?" Drew asked.

"We're looking for someone who had a motive," Fordham said, stroking his chin. "Since this wasn't an act of robbery, it was most likely an act of aggression. Let's think of anybody who might have had a problem with Ross."

"Just before he retired, he brought in one of the Bollard Twins," Howard said. "Maybe it was the other twin lookin' to get revenge?"

"Knowing the Bollard Twins, Willie would rather bust Ike out of prison than go after the man responsible for his arrest," Fordham said.

"Maybe someone in Ross's family can help us?" Drew suggested, motioning toward the other six lawmen and Edgar's family. "Should we see if they've found anything out?"

"Let's go," Fordham said, motioning forward. The six lawmen approached Phillip and Emily, who were still mourning. Emily's hair, normally done up in a bun, was hanging down freely. Having been rushed out of her cabin to the Mexican border to meet up with her dead husband, she didn't feel the need to pretty herself up. Phillip, too, was a mess; his face was red, his body covered in dust from the previous day's travels, and misery filled his eyes. He stared the lawmen down, ready to bring his brother's killer to justice.

"Mr. Ross, my name is Archer Fordham," Fordham said. "I'm the chief of police in Blackwater. Can you tell us exactly what happened before you found Edgar's body?"

Phillip pulled himself together as best as he could and said, "Yeah, I guess so. It was about ten-thirty in the mornin' yesterday when Edgar says to me he wants to hunt ducks. So I told him alright, see you in a few hours. I went out and got me a few critters, but nothin' good enough for the parlor. Then this kid comes up to me and says he's got a letter for Edgar, and so I told him that Edgar was down river and he should be nice to him. A few minutes later I heard five shots and not too long after that the kid comes galloping by with this smug look on his face."

"Five shots?" Fordham looked at the other lawmen, knowing that it was probably the kid who had committed the crime. If they could find out who the kid was, they would have their main suspect. "Mr. Ross, can you tell me what this kid looked like?"

"Well, he was probably no older than eighteen or twenty years old. He had some facial hair, a tan jacket with a white shirt, dark pants, a gun belt with a revolver, and a dark hat with a bird feather."

When Phillip mentioned the hat, Fordham's heart skipped a beat and chills went down his spine. He remembered that John Marston always wore a hat with that exact description. But it couldn't have been John; John was killed by Edgar and the army three years ago. Did John's hat get taken by one of the soldiers after the battle? Or maybe...

While Fordham was thinking, Howard piped in. "I remember seeing someone exactly like that a couple days ago. Boy was asking me about Edgar Ross, so I told him I'd never met him but I knew of him and he could be found at Lake Don Julio."

"And I remember him, too," Emily said. "I told him to find Edgar at the south side of the river." Suddenly it dawned on her. "Oh my god, I gave directions to my husband's killer!" This caused her to weep intensely. Phillip moved in to console her, and this helped her calm down. Fordham thought to himself, putting the evidence together. John Marston's hat, a crime of passion, a young boy.

The answer reached Fordham suddenly and quickly. "I think I know who killed him," Fordham said.

"Who?" Drew asked. "Who killed Edgar Ross?"

Fordham turned to address the group and said, "Gentlemen, we need to pay a visit to Beecher's Hope in Great Plains. If my suspicions are correct, the man responsible for Edgar Ross's death is the son of John Marston. Jack Marston."

"Jack? The teenager we took to Wattis Prison three years ago?" Drew seemed confused. "That kid never seemed dangerous to me. How do you figure?"

"Phillip told us that Edgar's killer was wearing a hat with a bird feather," Fordham said. "That's John Marston's hat. I can't think of anyone else who would have that hat but the last surviving member of the Marston family."

"But that doesn't mean it's Jack," Drew said. "Could just be a coincidence."

"Think about it, Drew," Fordham said. "Three years ago, Edgar Ross sent the army to Beecher's Hope to kill John. Jack was there when the attack happened. It must have been traumatic for him to see his father gunned down. I can't imagine what Jack's been through these past few years; must have been hard for him. His father returns home and is murdered less than a week later. It only makes sense that Jack wanted to get revenge."

"That makes sense," Drew said. "It matches the evidence almost perfectly. Still, I can't help but wonder why he waited all these years."

"Edgar was still working for the Bureau until last year. Jack would have been foolish to kill him while he was still working for the Bureau. He would've been up against too many men for him to handle. Ambushing him was the only way he could get away with it without having to fight his way out immediately after killing him."

"That makes Jack our prime suspect," Drew said. "So he's still up at Beecher's Hope?"

"That's where we'll start looking," Fordham said.

"What are we going to do?" Howard asked. "Arrest him? Interrogate him?"

"Let's just go there and see what happens," Fordham said. "If he cooperates, we'll just question him and bring him in if we determine he's guilty. But if he resists, we'll have to use force to arrest him. All of us will go in case he becomes violent."

"What are you waiting for?" Phillip asked angrily. "Mount up and bring that boy to justice!" The dozen lawmen mounted their horses and rode off toward Beecher's Hope, ready for anything that might happen there.