The Relentless: Among the Willows

Chapter Nine: The Long Marsh

Hart Grissom and Wyoming Slim

September 29th, 1859

Northern Texas, United States of America

It had been little over a week since their encounter with the gypsies and their witch, neither of them had spoken to the other about it. Instead, they treated it like a dream that they had had the misfortune of sharing. Though Wyoming found clarity from the encounter and carried on as if he was filled with new purpose and brought a whole new life. Hart only bore an even heavier dread about him since resuming their trek. Wyoming tried not to mind but he was curious by nature with little regard for social walls or boundaries.

"What's got you so down partner?" Wyoming asks.

"Nothing," Hart responds quietly.

"Come on, you haven't been your usual self since we found those people in the canyon. Was it something she said to you?"

"No."

"Was it something she did?"

"Leave it," Hart replies, a snarl now engrossing his face.

"Was it something I did?"

"I said leave it."

Wyoming sits back on his saddle and ponders for a moment before resorting back to silence. A majority of the night carried on this way as they made camp, had dinner and prepared to rest for yet another long day of riding ahead. And just as Wyoming began to grow tired he heard Hart mutter something under his breath, just barely audible but loud enough to hear it.

He said one word, "God."

"God?" Wyoming asks.

"That woman spoke as if she knew things, spoke as if she knew me... told me I need to believe." Hart trails off as he stares into the fire.

"Believe in what?" Wyoming asks.

Hart remains fixated on the flames flickering above the burning wood, he sits muttering lowly to himself for several minutes before responding, "I think she means I need to believe in God again... I was a preacher, in a small town in Texas called Pocane, I had own my chapel and everything."

"So that's why you wear the..." Wyoming asks pointing to Hart's clerical collar.

Hart nods and then continues, "There was a young woman, Mary Wright, she had a sick brother that was nearing death." Hart pauses to clear his throat as he lingers on the memory of her face, "... There was... a degenerate in town, Ned. Always causing trouble for everyone there, loudmouthed, constantly beat his wife and children. He broke into her home, killed her brother and beat her next to his still bleeding body."

"Jesus..." Wyoming mutters.

"Now I only have faith in one thing. That men can and will do evil. It's up to us to avenge it because we're the only ones who will." Hart responds he then rolls into his bedding and goes to sleep.

Wyoming stays up a while watching the sparks dance off into the air from the fire pit. For the first time, he felt some sense of common ground between him and Hart. He awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting his direction.

"Morning. I made ya some." Hart says reaching forward and setting a plate near Wyoming.

It was somewhat of an oddity as Hart had not even offered to cook for the two of them once on their journey. He typically ate cold beans directly from the can or other assortments in a similar fashion. But it was one that Wyoming did not care to question, he was too tired and too hungry to pursue it. They ate their breakfast and packed their camp in silence. Their mares slightly paced back and forth under them as they peered into the horizon before them.