Gold, Guns and Death in the West - A Wild West Story

CHAPTER 3 - The Terror

"Well, Eugene pays you to watch the place... watch the place." The gang member simply says, departing the area.

For the next few hours, the boy watched as bruised and bloodied townspeople emerged from the dimly lit depths of the cavern. They were tired, malnourished, abused and horribly injured in some places. Little by little they were able to draw almost countless precious stones from the harsh conditions they were forced to face. Sometimes, the boy even could see a child or two working with the adults. Not even a day had passed simply said, before this mistreatment demolished his soul. His sorrow for the downtrodden people of Little Valley only furthered his sentiment against the Edwards Gang and their employer.

Sitting in the searing sun for a few hours, he had taken to standing beneath some scaffolding left over from the construction of the site's enclosure. Mostly leaving the heavy duty to the ones willing to betray their own, one could call it survival instincts. Cowardice seemed a much simpler fit for them. Men willing to betray a neighbour and sacrifice morality for selfishness. But there was always the possibility that they could be sympathized with, perhaps their positions are in exchange for an easier time for their family. With his mind filled with thought and ponder, he passed the time by loading and reloading his revolver.

It was then that his mind snapped out of it as some commotion brought him back to reality.

"We got a runner! He's tryna escape!" One of the tower guards yelled furiously. "Get him! Or else it's all our lives for him!"

They were addressing him directly, the boy sighed with frustration. He was proven to be right, they were all in this position with the threat of death behind it.

"GO ON! GET HIM, KID!" Leaping onto a horse, he galloped past the arch entrance.

"Where'd he run off to?" He asked one of the wall's guards.

"Right there, past those cactuses!" He pointed. The boy's horse sped forward, heading through the prick-less routes and heading for where the guard had pointed.

After a few seconds, he saw the laborer who had fled a good fifty meters away. His horse galloped faster as he whipped the reins.

"Stop! Stay right there!" The bounty hunter called after the man. He was frail-looking, blood streamed from a small wound on his head.

"NO! I'M NOT GOING BACK THERE!" The fleeing person cried back in desperation. Even when worked close to death, the human body can do some of the most amazing feats on adrenaline.

The boy understood his fear and struggles. But it was one life in exchange for half a dozen. He had half a mind to let this brave man get away, but if he got away. He'd be facing the wrath of the Edwards Gang, possibly even Renee Haymond himself. Come to think of it, selfishness is present in a lot of people. He's currently being what he had just absolutely hated a few minutes ago. He's not so different from the others. Just a man.

Eventually, he ran the man down and tied him up to bring him back to Little Valley. As hard as it was for him to do so, he began to formulate a plan in his head. If he could use this to prove his loyalty to Eugene, he could eventually flee in the middle of the night and gather weapons to liberate this town. Unfortunately, it had to cost the life of this person whose fate he had just sealed.

Bringing him back to the town, a gleeful Eugene gladly took the man in. Imprisoning him for his eventual execution, for his efforts he was rewarded with an extra share of the gathered stones that day. Miniscule in comparison to what would eventually go back to Haymond.

Later in the evening, he marched alongside the Edwards gang as they took the poor man to be hanged. Again, he had to gain the loyalty of Eugene.

As the gagged man was led up the stairs. Some of the people still in the town, exempted from harsh quotas in the dust and rocks, congregated to watch the execution. Including the barista from earlier. Grayson wrapped the noose around the man's neck, the other three of Eugene's underlings blocked the people from climbing onto the platform and trying to free their fellow citizen.

"All done there, Grayson?" Eugene asked, the mute tightened the rope and nodded in accordance to his leader.

"Now you, boy." He motioned the bounty hunter to the lever. "The catcher deserves the credit."

Eugene smirked deviously. Stepping off the platform to address the skeleton populace of Little Valley,

"Y'all about to witness supreme punishment take place. Neglecting our kindness and charity, we give you purpose in life! Ungrateful sons of bitches! Watch as this example is made, watch the consequences!" The dirty sheriff cried out to an ungrateful audience.

"Boy! Hang that yellow-bellied bastard!" He growled as he yelled at the newly arrived young man. He knew why Eugene was making him do this, a power play to keep him in line. Study his receptiveness of orders.

"You don't have to do this." The boy could slightly hear the man's muffled voice through the dirty rag the scumbags had used to silence him. He wanted this man free, he wanted to give him an assuring word. At the very least a nod, a gesture of goodwill, promise of a better place. "When you have a sick dad in need of help. You'd have done the same as me."

Yet he could not deliver.

"I'm sorry." The bounty hunter mouthed silently as he faced towards him, and away from the maniacal Eugene.

Gritting his teeth with anger and frustration, he hesitantly pulled the lever to the trapdoor.