THE OUTLAW'S REDEMPTION, PART I

Jack felt nervous as he approached the Ramita de la Baya bridge and the United States border. He didn't know what to expect once he met the border guards stationed there; would they bring him in or just shoot him on the spot? His old palomino slowly sauntered onto the bridge and toward Jack's ultimate fate. The sound of horse hooves clip-clopping on the wood and the San Luis River rushing westward temporarily distracted Jack. He breathed in deeply, taking in the smells of the river and the crisp, fresh desert air, treasuring his last few moments as a free man.

He had been through a lat over the course of the last two months. He had gone from a rebellious teenager confused about his own identity to a brave and confident young man whom, he hoped, his father would be proud of. The man most responsible for helping him find himself was Cole Ricketts, the son of a man who had helped Jack's father on his own mission three years ago. This helped Jack realize that personal connections can and often do transcend generations. He reflected on his time in Mexico as he approached the familiar barricade that stood between him and his home country.

One of the border guards approached Jack, and upon recognizing him, immediately drew his gun and called for help. Jack threw up his hands to show that he was going in peacefully but the border guards were justifiably skeptical. He was ordered to dismount his horse, which he did without protest. After turning in his guns, his hands were quickly bound behind his back and he was placed in a small makeshift shack used to detain criminals. One of the guards generously brought him a flask of water after noticing that he was dehydrated. Jack patiently waited to be picked up by law enforcement.

A few hours passed before Blackwater police and a few Bureau of Investigation agents reached the scene. Jack noticed that there were about twenty lawmen overall; they weren't taking their chances this time. He was placed in a makeshift prison wagon that had bars covering the entrance and was transported to the Blackwater police station. The police were shocked, but appreciative, that Jack was being so cooperative, but they kept their guard up in case Jack had something planned. But Jack had no plan as the prison wagon made its way through New Austin and into West Elizabeth. He would face whatever fate the courts gave him.

It was well after nightfall before the party reached Blackwater. Jack took in the familiar scenes: the old saloon, the well-paved Main Street, electric lights. Modern amenities that were unheard of in most parts of Mexico. It had barely even been two months since the day Jack had killed Edgar Ross, but it almost felt like an eternity. A lot of things had changed in that time frame. But even as he was led into a prison cell in the Blackwater police station, Jack was no longer afraid. He would no longer be afraid of his future, of himself. Now, he would face his destiny. If his destiny was to die for his crimes, then so be it.

The next day, Jack was led by a guard to an interrogation with Blackwater's chief of police. He hoped that it was still Fordham, but he doubted it. He wondered who had succeeded him, determined to make things right and hoping that he could negotiate with the lawman. Jack and the two guards leading him entered the lobby of the Blackwater police station and climbed up the stairs. They passed the office of the head of the Bureau of Investigation and entered the office next to it. Jack had arrived early and was told to wait for the chief.

Several minutes later, Chief Nathan Covington entered the office. He laughed when he saw Jack. "Jack Marston. It's good to see you again."

Jack cringed at the familiar voice. This man, who had sexually harassed his mother in prison and had treated Jack with contempt three years ago, was now the chief of police. Jack almost couldn't believe that such a corrupt man held a high position of power, mentally comparing Nathan to Edgar Ross. Nonetheless, he quickly regained his composure and stared up at Nathan.

"Mr. Covington, it's...a delight to see you again," Jack said insincerely.

"I know what you think of me," he said. "Don't give me that good boy act. You know exactly why you're here."

The two guards entered the room again. They carried notebooks and pencils with them and sat down next to Nathan. "These two will act as witnesses to our conversation," Nathan continued. "Let's try to do this in one go. I'm going to ask you a series of questions. Simply answer yes or no. I'm sure even an uneducated country hick such as yourself can understand that concept."

A bit of rage bubbled up inside of Jack but he suppressed it. "Go on," he said.

Nathan smiled. He knew that he was getting under Jack's skin. "First question. Did you kill Edgar Ross at Rio Del Toro in Mexico?"

"Yes," Jack said emotionlessly. "I did."

Despite being ready for any possibility, Nathan was slightly shocked at how honest and blunt Jack had been. "Very good," he said. His officers quickly jotted down Jack's confession. "What was your motive for murdering Mr. Ross?"

"He had my Pa killed. I guess it was vengeance that fueled my actions."

"Did you murder eight officers at your ranch house in Beecher's Hope?"

"Yes."

"Did you assault Marshal Drew Blankenship, permanently maiming him?"

"There was one man I shot that, I guess, could have survived. I shot him in the barn."

"Did you intend to kill Drew Blankenship when you assaulted him?"

"Yes."

"Did you attempt to evade arrest by fleeing to Mexico?"

"That's correct, sir."

"What was your motive, Jack? Even the most rebellious teenagers don't go awry shooting officers like that."

"I was scared," Jack admitted. "I didn't want to be punished for the murder of Edgar Ross so I got scared and impulsive and I did what I did. I thought they was gonna kill me, just like they killed my Pa."

Nathan scoffed. "Your father had it coming," he said. "He was nothing but outlaw scum. Lower than low."

Jack glared angrily at Nathan but didn't say anything else.

"One more question, just out of curiosity. Why are you being so cooperative? Usually it takes a lot more convincing to make an outlaw talk, if they even talk at all."

"My Pa taught me to be an honest man. That's what I'm doin'."

"And it took you two months in Mexico to come to this conclusion?"

"I suppose it did. I know I done some terrible things. I just want to make up for it."

"I think we're done now." Nathan smiled. "See, that wasn't so hard was it?" He stood up and looked directly into Jack's eyes. "Jack, you know the penalty for homicide of a law enforcement official in West Elizabeth is death, don't you?"

Jack gulped. "Yes sir," he said, his voice becoming uneasy.

"This is the sentence we will be pursuing. Given the sensitivity of your case, your trial is set for one week from now. You will remain incarcerated until and following your trial. If you are sentenced to death, you will be hung as soon as a substantial gallows can be constructed. Which shouldn't take long. Do you understand what I have just told you?"

"Completely, sir."

"Good." Nathan sat back down. "I'm also obligated to tell you that you have the right to an attorney. But since I'm assuming you don't have deep enough pockets to afford one, a court appointed attorney will be provided for you. You will be able to meet with your attorney once before the trial. This appointment will be scheduled by the attorney. The court will cover all of your attorney fees."

"I understand," Jack said. "Whatever it takes to atone for my sins."

"Atonement? You're seeking atonement? This isn't church, boy, this is the law."

"I was just speaking metaphorically," Jack said.

"Doesn't matter, Marston. Get back to your cell. I have other things to do."

Jack stood up to go, prompting the two other officers to stand as well. He turned to leave, but he stopped before he opened the door.

"It's a doorknob, Marston," said Nathan. "Just turn it to the right and push the door open."

Jack sighed. He was going to attempt to plead his case with Nathan, but he figured at this point that it would be best to just let it go. Nathan wouldn't listen to anything he said anyway; he saw him as nothing more than outlaw scum who deserved what was coming to him. One of the guards opened the door for Jack and he was led back to his prison cell.

With nothing else to do, Jack had a lot of time to reflect on his time in Mexico. He wondered if Valentia had taken power by now, and wondered what happened to Reyes. Was he locked up or had he been put to death already? Most of all, Jack thought about Cole. He had said that they would see each other again; was he speaking literally or was he implying that Jack had redeemed himself and they would see each other after life?

Jack slept terribly that night. His dreams were filled with nothing but memories of his time in Mexico. The innocent people who had died at the hands of Reyes. Nosalida, Chuparosa, and Juarez in flames. Reyes appeared in every image that Jack saw, laughing at each scene of chaos that had been caused in his name. And with each memory, Jack woke up sweating and hyperventilating.

His final dream was of his trial. He was sentenced to death and was led out of the courthouse to the gallows. The rope was securely fastened around his neck. The executioner was given the signal to pull the lever. The floor gave way and the trope tightened around Jack's neck. He couldn't breathe! He struggled to get loose but his efforts were fruitless. Just before his eyes closed for the last time, Jack woke up gasping for breath. It was then that he realized he hadn't taken a single breath since the moment the executioner pulled the lever. Jack breathed hard, trying to catch his breath.

"Whoa there, are you alright?" a voice said. Jack quickly turned and noticed a man standing outside of his cell. The man was dressed in a nice suit and his hair was slicked back. He wore the shiniest shoes Jack had ever seen and was carrying a briefcase. This, Jack assumed, was his lawyer.

Sure enough, the man said, "Jack Marston? My name is Robert Nimmits. Attorney at law. I'll be representing you in your upcoming court case."

"They didn't tell me you was comin'," Jack said, still gasping for breath.

"Of course they didn't. I'm here on my own."

"Why, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Don't concern yourself with it," Robert said. "Now let's discuss the case. They're going after you with eight murder charges and they got a strong case. Especially since you officially confessed. Tsk tsk tsk, bad move."

"Eight? What about Edgar Ross?"

"Well that's a bit tricky. They can't exactly pin that on you because you committed the crime in Mexico. It's up to the Mexican government to press charges for that one. But I think we can do OK with your American charges if we go with an insanity plea."

"Whoa, I ain't insane! I just made some stupid choices."

"I'm not accusing you of being insane. I'm just saying that the only way of getting out of the death penalty in cases like yours is o get an official diagnosis of clinical insanity. That way, they'll know you weren't of sound mind when you committed the murders."

"But I was…"

"Ah buh buh," Robert interrupted. "I'm talking. Or do you want to die?"

"I want to do whatever it takes to pay for what I done."

"OK. Well, tell you what. We don't have to go down the insanity road. OK? We can figure something else out."

"What did you have in mind?"

Robert smiled. "I have my ways," he said cryptically. "All you need to do is show up to the courtroom and I'll take care of the rest."

"Do I have any other choice?" Jack asked sarcastically.

"Hahaha! You're a funny guy. Just trust me. You've got a good man on your side." Robert pointed to himself as he said this.

"You seem awful confident. And, forgive me for saying it, kind of weird."

"I know. But that's why I'm the best." Robert walked away as Jack sat back down on his bed, burying his face in his hands. He didn't know if he should believe Robert or if this was the worst lawyer that Nathan could find. He wouldn't be surprised if the latter proved to be true. Though he was a changed man, Jack still had deep distaste for lawmen like Nathan. Lawmen who were criminals with badges.

The next few days passed by very slowly. Nothing of significance occurred until the fourth day of his incarceration. This was the day that Robert had originally scheduled his meeting with Jack. Jack was led to Robert's office, a new building on Wapiti Avenue, and the two had a formal discussion about the trial. During this meeting, Robert acted completely normal and very much the opposite of his overconfident and goofy side that Jack had seen when he visited him in prison. After the meeting concluded and as Jack was being led back to his cell, he still didn't know what to think of Robert. His professional side seemed convincing enough, but Jack knew of his issue with overconfidence and still wondered if he was even a qualified lawyer. He had never heard of him before. Of course, until now he didn't have a need for a lawyer. His nights were still filled with nightmares of Mexico and of his potential fate.

When the day of the trial came, Jack was woken up early and fed what could possibly be his last breakfast before his conviction. He couldn't help but feel nervous despite his acceptance of his fate. He fully understood that these could very well be his last few days and he tried to calm himself because he didn't want his last moments to be lived in fear, but no matter what he tried, he wasn't able to shake his nerves. When his guard opened his cell, he felt like retreating to the corner to put it off for as long as possible. But Jack was tired of running, and instead of hiding he followed the guard out of the cell and out of the police building.

He was led to the courtyard in front of the courthouse. To his left was the Main Street of Blackwater. Jack took one last look at the street before turning his attention to the gazebo in the center of the courtyard. Just across the way was the bank, a large building made of solid stone. A train whistle indicated that the next passenger train had just arrived at the train station. The train station where Jack had spoken with Howard Sawicki while trying to find Edgar Ross to exact revenge upon him. A stagecoach waited near the bank to pick up passengers. The clock tower bell, which had just been installed, sounds its toll as Jack and his guards ascended the courthouse steps. Jack closed his eyes and breathed one last breath before slowly pushing the doors open to face his final destiny.