I DO NOT OWN TWILIGHT. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO STEPHENIE MEYER. AFTER READING JASPER'S BACK STORY, IT MADE ME WONDER HOW HIS LIFE COULD HAVE CHANGED IF HE HAD NOT BECOME A VAMPIRE AND HAD GONE DOWN A DIFFERENT PATH.
Corpus Christi, Texas. October 22, 1869.
No one thought too much of the 20 something walking into the local saloon in Corpus Christi on a hot Autumn day. The only thing that caught anyone's attention was the Confederate uniform he wore. It was a grey tunic with golden tassels on the sleeve, followed by grey trousers with golden stripes on the side and a pair of black riding boots. He wore a holster belt carrying 2 revolvers and a The grey stetson hat he wore had a miniature stars and bars flag in the center of it. The reaction of the patron's was mixed, due to more than few still having sympathy for the Southern cause.
Hey there, soldier." the barkeep greeted as the reb went up to the bar. "Can I get you something?"
"A shot of bourbon, if you please." the reb replied as he looked around the room until his eyes landed on a grizzled looking man with grey hair and a beer belly drinking a jar of moonshine. The reb was given his bourbon and downed it before walking over to the man.
"You're Billy Bob Babcock, ain't you?" He asked as the man let out a belch.
"Sure am." Billy Bob answered with a drunk smile that suggested he liked chatting up his fellow patrons at the bar.
"I heard you're looking for someone?"
"You heard right, Johnny Reb."
That's a fine-looking gun, Billy Bob; you mind if I take a look?" The Reb asked as his eyes landed on the 6 shooter on the table. Billy Bob slowly handed the gun to the Reb who admired the 1864 Metropolitan Navy Model revolver. As Billy Bob drank more moonshine, the Reb quickly took out all the bullets and dropped them down his sleeves
"Thanks, it's a real fine side arm." The reb said as he handed the now empty revolver to the drunkard.
"Damn right...won it in a fist fight." Billy Bob said with a deep chuckle.
So, tell me...this fella you tracking, he got a name?"
"The son of a bitch got a few names: Jumpin' Jasper, Kid Whitlock, the Boy Major. He's robbed every bank from Hell to Houston."
"Know what he looks like?" The Reb asked with intrigue.
"He bout 6'3" tall, got honey blond hair. He a strong boy, got pale skin, damn near like marble. Eyes the color of cocoa and a shit ton of scars." The Reb said nothing as he rolled up his sleeves to reveal a few choice scars on his wrists. Billy Bob looked at the scars before his eyes moved to the man's hair and eyes. It took Billy Bob a few minutes, but he eventually realized he was face to face with Major Jasper Whitlock.
"You son of bitch!" The drunk hollered as he aimed his gun at the Major.
"Now listen, Billy Bob...i've never done anything against you and I don't want to." Jasper said in a calm tone of voice.
"The Yanks are gonna pay me five hundred dollars for your corpse." the drunk snarled as he cocked his weapon.
Please Billy Bob...I really do not want to kill you, but I will if I have to." Jasper threatened.
"You ain't gonna kill shit!" Billy Bob declared as he pulled the trigger and saw to his shock that no bullet came out. Jasper gave the man a sad look as if he'd only wanted to enjoy a drink, not to kill another man needlessly.
"Should've walked away." Jasper sighed as he hung his head, only to draw his light cavalry saber and with a quick swipe, slit Billy Bob's throat. As the drunk bounty hunter bled to death, Jasper turned to the patrons who had watched the exchange.
"I didn't wanna kill him...he made me." Major Whitlock said as he took out 10 dollars and laid on the table. "Get him a decent burial." Jasper took his hat, put it on and slowly walked out of the bar, his hands soaked in more blood.
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