GUNS, HORSES, and DEATH
THE LIFE of a WANTED MAN
Copyright 2006 by Marilyn Thompson All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
He was tired, the kind of tired that reaches beyond the body and causes the soul to ache. He had been traveling for thirty-five years only pausing for short periods in one town or another but none did he call home.
As he walked, the heat of the summer sun beat down on the earth creating the ghosts of watery waves in the air and phantom pools on the ground.
About sixty yards ahead of him, a large oak tree cast a deep and welcoming shade beside the dusty road. Although there was no one around except him, he was in the middle of a serious discussion.
"You old bastard, you've been running from me for more than forty years now. I think its time we ended this game, don't you?" He paused, as he listened to the reply, then he smiled and said, "Looks like as good a place as any. I'll meet you there."
He continued to walk, until he reached the tree, then he took a deep breath of the hot air and stepped into the shade. For a moment he just stood there, looked out across the land, and then up at the sky. Finally, he pushed his hat back on his head, wiped the sweat from his brow, and sat down on the ground. A gentle breeze began to blow as he leaned back against the giant oak and smiled into the face of the figure that stood before him, a figure that most people spend their lives running from and he had spent the last forty of his life running toward.
As the summer rain began to fall on the leaves above him, he looked out from eyes where fear had not lived for many years and spoke.
"Come on and get me you bastard. I've done all the damage I can here now let's see what I can do in hell." Then he closed his eyes on the world for the last time and walked gratefully into the arms of Death.