THE BOUNTY HUNTER

Walter Morris set off from Thieves' Landing almost immediately after receiving his orders from Officer Brandt. He was glad to get out of Thieves' Landing; the place was full of moral degenerates who would only learn their lesson at the cost of their lives. Mexico wasn't much better, but at least he wouldn't have to follow the legal restrictions put on him in the States. He could locate and capture his target by any means necessary.

An experienced lawman, Morris was in his late thirties, having been born in 1876. He had been a lawman since he turned 18, first taking a job as an officer in El Paso. He moved to West Elizabeth in 1905 and got involved with an office of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency. This detective agency was upgraded and in 1910 a larger building was built for the newly established Bureau of Investigation. Morris worked for the Bureau for a brief time, but had a falling out with them after he killed a bounty in cold blood that he was supposed to bring in alive.

Morris became an independent bounty hunter that still had a part time contract with the Bureau, but now he had more freedom in what he could do to bring in a bounty. His success as a bounty hunter made him one of the most popular characters in West Elizabeth. Despite his reputation as a violent and sometimes borderline criminal bounty hunter, Morris never harmed anyone he considered innocent. He was dedicated to protecting the people that he respected and allied himself with.

Morris had worked with Jack's father once, when Dutch van der Linde's gang was raiding the bank in Blackwater. They were never formally introduced, however, and Morris doubted that he had made any kind of impression on John. The man had other things to focus on, after all. When he heard that John's son had gone rogue, Morris knew that Jack was the one responsible for the recent murder of Edgar Ross. Given what had happened at Beecher's Hope, Morris and most other law officers knew that Jack was responsible for the crime. He was also responsible for the deaths of many of his comrades, and though Morris regretted having to bring in the son of a man he looked up to and respected, it was his job and they were his orders.

The sun was setting below the horizon when Morris arrived at the Mexican border. The border guards stopped him before he could pass.

"State your business," one of them demanded.

"Evenin' to you," Morris said, tipping his hat. "I've been sent by Blackwater chief Nate Covington to bring in a bounty."

"Wait, you're Walter Morris, aren't you? Are you here to bring in Jack Marston? He's in Mexico, you know."

"I know," Morris said plainly. "That's why I'm here. Do we have any information on Marston's whereabouts?"

"N...no sir," the guard stammered, star struck at the sight of Morris. "Not to my knowledge."

"No matter, I'll find him. May I pass?"

"Of course, Mr. Morris. Go on."

"Thank you." As Morris sauntered past, he looked back and said, "And please, call me Walt." Morris crossed the Ramita de la Baya bridge and was on his way to locate his bounty. As he made his way tirelessly through the dark Mexican landscape, Morris began to think of a plan. He didn't know Jack personally, but he knew that his father was smart and extremely skilled with a gun. He figured it would be best to play it safe and approach the situation with tact rather than by rushing in guns a'blazing. The light of the moon softly illuminated his path as he made his way to Chuparosa, his first way point.

About a mile outside of Chuparosa, Morris saw a soft orange light in the distance. Immediately, he identified it as a large fire, and it was directly in line with the small Mexican village. Morris pushed forward quickly, covering the mile distance in less than ten minutes. Thoughts as to the cause of the fire ran through his mind. What had happened in the town? As he got closer, he could definitely smell the fire and could plainly see that the town was ablaze.

Morris dismounted his horse and quickly rushed into town. Screaming and gunfire could now be plainly heard; it definitely sounded like some kind of battle was taking place. Morris took cover behind the bank and watched the battle unfold, leaving his gun in his holster unless he had an actual need for it. Mexican Army soldiers were laughing and shooting at people, throwing fire bottles at any building that wasn't ablaze. The Chuparosans were fighting back furiously but they were no match for the superior force.

Suddenly, Morris detected movement behind him. He turned around and saw two soldiers pointing their guns at him. One of them asked, "Quien es?"

Morris had a limited knowledge of Spanish but was able to respond, "Soy un amigo."

"Quien es usted?"

"Soy Walter Morris. I'm a bounty hunter from the United States. I'm looking for Jack Marston."

Upon hearing Jack Marston's name and the fact that Morris was looking for him, the soldiers lowered their guns. They motioned for Morris to follow them. Morris was led to their encampment west of Chuparosa. A large force of Mexican Army soldiers led by a man who called himself General Gonzalez accepted Morris as a friend and gave him food and a place to sit around their camp fire. Morris accepted their generosity and warmed himself by their fire.

After a few minutes of silence, Morris asked, "What's going on in Chuparosa?"

"A rebellion," Gonzalez responded. "The man you are seeking, Jack Marston, is the one behind this new rebellion. He is trying to overthrow Abraham Reyes to take Mexico for himself."

"Jack is trying to take over Mexico? I'm sorry, but I just can't believe that," Morris said.

"OK, maybe he is not going to be in charge. There is one man he's working with. A deserter by the name of Jose Valentia. Valentia will be the one in charge if they overthrow Reyes. But they cannot do this because Reyes is a friend to Mexico. Valentia would ruin everything that Reyes has built.

"Is Jack Marston in Chuparosa?" Morris asked.

"No," Gonzalez responded. "We do not know where he is, but we think he may move south to Mexico City. We have set up a trap for him at Juarez, which is a rebel village along the way. We made a deal with the village's leader, who is an ex-military man; we spare the rebel village if they ally themselves with us. They will not make it to Mexico City."

"You say the trap is in Juarez. Where is Juarez? Maybe I can help?"

"Juarez is south of Nosalida, the rebel capital. We already destroyed Nosalida but Jack Marston and Valentia evaded us. We think they are going to stage a hostile takeover of the Mexican government."

"You mean a coup d'etat?" Morris asked.

"Si," Gonzalez said. "Our force is currently moving east fighting the rebels in Nuevo Paraiso, but I can have one of my men escort you to Juarez. If Jack Marston has not already been captured or killed, you may take him back to America. The man is a traitor to Mexico."

"What happened?" Morris asked.

"Marston was assisting Reyes in making the country good. But for what seems like no reason he turned against the government and started a rebellion movement. This movement grew very quickly and…"

"Seems like things aren't so peachy in Mexico, after all," Morris said.

"Mierda! Things may not be progressing perfectly, but Reyes is making progress for Mexico. You will see."

Morris raised a skeptical eyebrow but made no further statements. Instead, he asked, "When can we depart for Juarez?"

"Patience, mi amigo," Gonzalez said. "First you must prove your worth by helping us with a few simple tasks."

"You're suggesting we trade favors," Morris said, his voice gaining a slightly annoyed tone.

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm suggesting," Gonzalez said. "We need another gun to fight the rebels to the east. It should take no longer than a week. When we finish…"

"Marston could be gone in a week," Morris interrupted. "Look, I need your help. I don't cross the people who help me."

"We're not saying we don't trust you," Gonzalez argued. "We're saying we will help you but you will need to earn our assistance."

Morris stood up. "Forget you," he said. "I'm out of here." He started to walk away, but just before he mounted his horse, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Gonzalez.

"I don't think you understand," Gonzalez said sternly. "We need your help. You are going to give us your help because you have no choice." Morris looked around and saw that many of the soldiers were now armed and aimed their guns at him. He began to think of a game plan, but in order to think of a plan, he needed time. He employed a tactic that he had perfected over the years. He stalled.

"Oh, you think a few men with rifles is going to intimidate me?" Morris asked. He laughed. "Do you even know who I am?"

"I know you're just one gringo, and I have twenty armed men right behind me and many more at the ready. You help us or we kill you."

"That doesn't seem like a fair deal, now, does it?"

"Life isn't always fair, amigo. Do we have a deal?"

Morris fell silent for a moment, listening to the crickets chirping. Finally he sighed. "Fine," he said.

Gonzalez laughed. "I knew you would see it our way. I apologize for having to resort to such...drastic measures. You understand why I had to do that, no?"

"Of course I do. Now, one thing you should know about me is that I like to seal the deal with a drink. Got any alcohol?"

"Of course!" Gonzalez left for a moment and returned with a bottle of tequila. He handed it to Morris and said, "Drink as much as you want."

"Thanks," Morris said. "I'll be right back. I need to bed my horse down for the night."

"Do what you must do to prepare for tomorrow," Gonzalez said, seemingly cheery. "You are going to enjoy working for us."

Morris approached his horse, a game plan worked out. He had to execute this plan perfectly or it wouldn't end well. Just what I love, Morris thought to himself. This tequila has 45% ABV. The ambient temperature is currently in the low 80s, so as long as I have an ignition source, I've got a makeshift fire bottle. He pulled out a match and continued his thoughts. This ought to do the trick. Now I just need a fuse. He pulled out one of his spare shirts, tore a strip of it off, and stuffed it in the bottle. I gotta aim this just right, right at that fire pit. When they're distracted, I make my escape.

"What's the hold up back there?" Gonzalez asked joyously.

Morris lit the fuse and quickly mounted his horse. "You could say I'm…" he began as he took a big swig of tequila and tossed the prepped fire bottle perfectly into the fire pit. The bottle exploded and a small fire ball was produced. Taken by surprise, the drunk soldiers backed away from the fire and averted their gazes from Morris. As Morris galloped away, he finished, "...getting fired up."

Gonzalez stared at Morris's figure as it quickly vanished into the night. He was impressed by this man's craftiness, and despite wanting to get revenge, he didn't feel like giving chase. His men did just fight a battle, after all. A few of his men mounted up and prepared to pursue Morris, but Gonzalez stated, "Not yet. Our priority is stopping this rebellion."

Once Morris was several miles away from Chuparosa, he stopped to make camp. It was almost two in the morning and Morris would be up in just a couple hours. He was used to sleeping very little and had learned to cope with the lack of sleep. It did nothing to curb his intellect or skills as a bounty hunter. He started a camp fire and pulled out a map of Mexico. He marked Juarez on his map and began writing in a notebook. He always documented all of his bounty hunts; he hoped to write a book about his experiences once he retired. If he even lived long enough.

Morris stared at the stars when he finished writing in his journal. He had always loved astronomy, though he never pursued it as a serious career. Ever since his wife had been killed by a former gang member whose leader he had killed, he turned to the stars to cope with the feelings of loneliness. He wondered if mankind would ever make it to space, if they would ever explore the night sky he was now looking at. He figured that it would eventually happen; people could argue against it all they wanted, but just ten years before, people believed that man would never fly…

The next day, Morris rose early to start the long journey to Juarez. He knew that there was a chance that Jack had already come to and gone from Juarez, but it was the only lead he had and he would follow it in the hopes of encountering his bounty. After another day of traveling, Morris reached Nosalida, noting how, like Chuparosa, it had been destroyed by the Army. As well as focusing on his bounty hunt, Morris was also giving a lot of thought to the current state of Mexico. Perhaps things weren't as stable as most people in the States believed. And maybe the rebels were right to fight for their cause.

Morris noticed a large grave site on the outskirts of town and took some time to pay his respects. He removed his hat, knelt down, and touched his hand to the dirt. At least there's still some kind of humanity left in this country, he thought to himself. He also noticed that there were fresh prints in town, less than a week old. I'm definitely getting closer, he thought to himself.

The next several days were spent on the road. Morris traveled through Escalera and asked around town if anyone had seen anything, but nobody had witnessed the rebel force as it passed by Escalera almost a week before. Undaunted, Morris continued south on his quest to find Jack Marston. Eventually, he reached the small village of Bustamante, which was still trying to rebuild itself.

Morris sighed and shook his head as he observed the destruction in this town as well. Reyes had ordered the Mexican Army to quell a rebellion, but they were resorting to barbarous tactics to enforce their rules. Was this really the brilliant ruler that the United States had thought it was? Or was he really a tyrant with a stranglehold on his country? Morris didn't stop in Bustamante for long, as he was told that Juarez was only a days' ride from town. Close to his target, Morris pushed on.

When he reached Juarez, Morris expected to see what he had seen in the other towns he had passed through. What he saw, however, was a city that was still bustling and, for the most part, intact. The heavily disturbed ground told him that a battle had occurred here no later than four days ago but there were no bodies, not even any blood stains. The area had been intentionally cleaned.

Valentia took notice of the newcomer, and though his wounds were still healing, he insisted on greeting him himself. "Hola, my name is Jose Valentia. Have you come to join the rebellion?"

Thinking for a moment, Morris said, "Yes. I have."

"Excellent! It is always good to have a new face. Come with me and meet everybody." Valentia gave Morris a tour of Juarez, introducing him to all of the men he knew personally. Morris kept a careful eye out for Jack Marston but the man was seemingly nowhere in town. Eventually, Valentia led Morris to the place where he would be staying. Morris thanked Valentia for the generosity and accommodations and entered his new home.

Cole recognized his new roommate immediately. Well, if it isn't the great 'Carl Harrison'."

"Cole Ricketts," Morris said. "Yours is a face I never thought I'd see again. What happened to you? You look like you've been shot up bad."

"I'll live," Cole said. "I've been through worse. So the folks back in the States sent you down here?"

"Yeah. I'm here to bring in a dangerous fugitive who's responsible for the murders of several lawmen and is the prime suspect in the Edgar Ross investigation. You heard what happened to Mr. Ross, right?"

"I heard," Cole said. "I know who you're talkin' 'bout. It's that Marston boy, Jack Marston. Is that right?"

"Do you know where I could find Jack Marston?" Morris asked. As if on queue, Jack entered the room. He had been personally taking care of Cole ever since he had been shot. Morris immediately turned to Jack and was shocked at how much he resembled his father. It was almost as if he were looking at the ghost of John Marston.

"Oh, hello there, sir," Jack said, tipping his hat. "I never seen your face 'round here. What brings you to Juarez?"

With a sudden burst of confidence and boldness, Morris said, "Well, Jack Marston, to be honest with you, I came here to arrest you."