The Seer And The Stetson

I Remember...

River stood, breaking through the stillness of the lake's surface. His eyes scanned the quiet of the stony shoreline carpeted with gravel in varying shades of grey and skirted by a thick lining of mature trees.  

A gentle breeze sent him into shivers. It'd been a while since he'd last had an opportunity to bathe. He fingered at the divot on his side. 

He spent the last three weeks on his back, staring up at the worn tarp of the Sweeten's wagon, slowly recovering from his gunshot wounds.  Thanks to the diligent efforts of Mrs. Abigail Sweeten, the most skilled healer he'd ever met, and her lovely daughter, Ellie. He was almost returned to his former self. 

Ellie hadn't warmed to him in that time, not one single bit. She had good reason. In truth, he was a no-good scoundrel with a bounty on his head in three states and a talented out-and-out liar. The Sweetens couldn't know who he was and what he was running from. It was safer for them that way. 

As skilled a tracker as he was, Clyde would be hard-pressed to find him, and where he hid the loot. If he found anything, he'd find poor Betty's remains, and there the trail would end. It was likely the rain washed their tracks away. And ain't no way in hell a man like Clyde would ever imagine River hiding with a negro family. 

Clyde was too narrow-minded and bigoted a person for such inferences. It's the reason why River always came up with the plans for their heists. A task he loathed and relished at the same time. He enjoyed using his creativity and resourcefulness to solve problems. He came to show a real aptitude for it but each misdeed chipped away at his soul. 

His conscience could no longer bear the weight of the crimes he committed in the name of a man he hated. He broke with Clyde one day, violently. 

That particular morning began as any other. The gang rose early from a night of drunken debauchery to a dusty campground littered with dry tufts of grass and a small pond nearby to water the horses. 

It was a rule for the gang to camp far off the beaten path. And as a result, they traversed deep canyons and barren deserts, just to find a place to go to ground for the night. River ordered the men to ride single file. That way no one would ever know just how many of them there were at any one time. Their resting place changed often. The Utter gang never stayed in the same spot for more than one night. 

The plan was a simple grab and go. There was a man or two aboard the train with eyes on the loot. The rest of the gang made their entry when the train stopped to take on passengers in Kansas City. They'd distract the guards, while a few others picked off the loot. 

No one needed to get hurt. The job could have been over in minutes but River underestimated the depravity of Clyde's men. He watched a man they called Dutch attempt to force himself on a girl no older than thirteen. 

River did his best to dissuade him but men like Dutch found sick pleasure in the pain of the innocent. When he couldn't get him to stop, River put a bullet in the back of his head. He should have felt something after killing a man he'd known for years but he felt nothing. Nothing but the relief of seeing that child in her parents' arms. 

And while the rest of the gang dealt with the soldiers and indiscriminately killed passengers. River secreted those he could off the train. When the men found what he had done, they turned him over to Clyde for their special brand of justice. 

For a man with no soul, no conscience, Clyde seemed almost troubled by the news of River's betrayal. 

"Well, Boy." He drew out in his heavy southern twang. "I know you been offish lately but this is damn right owdacious! We are taking back what they stole from us when the war ended. I thought you understood that, Boy! I had big plans for you. One day you were gonna lead this gang!" He bellowed. His face reddened and the muscles of his neck strained. He shifted his hips, to alleviate the discomfort of a long ride on horseback. 

Forced from his horse, River stood before forty mounted riders, "You can't do this to people, Clyde. It ain't right."

Clyde turned his head, pulling the phlegm from his throat before he spat out his chew. "I decide what's right and what's wrong here. And far as you're concerned, I'm God here." Clyde spun in his seat to shout at the other riders, "No one touches him, River is mine."

He pulled back the hammer on his gun and aimed at River's head. But, Clyde forgot one thing about River, not only was he clever but he was a damn good shot. 

In the bat of an eye, River pulled a gun from his holster firing two quick shots. The first one ricocheted off the train car and tearing through Clyde's left eye. The other burrowed a hole through the forehead of Clyde's second in command, Felix. 

River knew if he kept low, the chances of him getting away were high. Clyde's other men couldn't hit the broadside of a barn at ten paces. He ran, weaving around and through the train cars to avoid their bullets. He found Betty and another horse, whose satchels were stuffed with cash. He grabbed them both and rode like hell. But he didn't make it far enough before Clyde recovered. He put a bullet in River's flank as he rode away. 

River drove the first horse hard toward the Indian Territories. When it died, he and Betty continued their journey. He knew eventually his past would catch up to him. He'd either be caught and hanged for train and bank robbery or Clyde would find him and skin him alive. 

River briefly took sojourn in a small mining town near Dodge City. He heard tell later that because they harbored him, Clyde and his gang murdered that entire town. After that, he fastidiously avoided others, until he was left with no choice. 

He would leave the Sweetens sooner than later. The longer he stayed the more he endangered their lives. He had to find his mother too. He planned to give her the money then make his way to Mexico and live like a king. 

River pushed his way to shore. Toweling off his wet body, when the sound of a twig snapping caught his attention. He wasn't alone and there was no telling who or what lay in wait. He pulled his trousers up and on bare feet stepped carefully through the thicket. 

Someone leaned over a bush, peering out at the lake. A crooked grin tugged at his lips. He pressed the barrel of his gun against the back of a head full of brown curly hair. Ellie turned slowly. Her teeth clenched in a grimace. 

"What have we here?" He chuckled, "See something you like, darlin'?"