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

CHAPTER 6 - The Journey

Midway through their trip back to the town of Little Valley, the trio had to take a break for a while in order to rest and recuperate. Starting a fire and letting their horses sit and eat, as well as themselves. The afternoon was growing old and dusk had begun to set in. They had made their campsite quite far away off road. However, Stamp still kept a stern lookout for any possible signs of the Edwards Gang. Meanwhile the boy and girl were sitting around the fire, cooking a rabbit they had caught and killed.

"You said back there, while we were escaping from the town. That you knew how to shoot?" Asked the boy.

The girl, who was turning the carcass above the fire, gave the boy a slight nod. "It was quite long ago, as I said. I'm pretty rusty."

"Perhaps I could try and help with that?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Better not mean what I think you're trying to mean." Stamp jokingly called.

"Shut up." The boy laughed a little. "But in all seriousness, how did your home come to be what it is? I remember that I asked you back at the bar, but the Sheriff interrupted."

"Well, it is a long story." The girl said. "But we have time."

"Now's probably the best time." He gave his opinion, the girl continued to slowly rotate the rabbit as she began to let her past out.

"So, the town used to be a really uplifting place. It was newly established, lots of people from all over the place were moving in. Generally, the entirety of Little Valley was a blossoming hub which was filled with all types of characters let me tell you. But, it all changed once rumors began popping up of nearby gems and gold which were discovered by a man named Larry Stanislaw. Sure, everyone was excited and even more people began to flood in. Yet, our mayor, one of the kindest people I've ever known, and his family were massacred one day. Just shot like rabid dogs in the middle of their son's birthday party..." She began to cry a little, the boy handed her a napkin in response.

"He never wanted to use it to increase his own wealth, he wanted it to help the town because he knew that the common people needed it more than he did. He knew what it was like being poor, he got himself out of poverty himself of course he would sympathize with them. But, that bastard Eugene Timothy Edwards just executed him. If it wasn't enough, they shot his son too. After that, the Edwards Gang was immediately upon the town. Killed anyone who tried to escape. Along came a man in a fancy suit and a stupid looking cane..." She continued.

"Renee Haymond?" The boy said, to which the girl nodded.

"Those that were left, and there were a lot of people left in town, became his puppets. They mined almost all day, nothing went to those who deserved it. Most went to Haymond, the rest belonged to the Edwards Gang, what little was left went to the ones they gave a rifle to and ordered to beat their fellow townspeople into loyal labourers. I was spared the nightmare because they needed people to run other services, like the hotel, the bank and the mail office." She finished.

"The mayor, you talked about him and his family a lot." The boy pointed out. "Back during our escape, you also said that the old man wasn't your actual father..."

The girl shrugged. "It honestly don't take a genius to piece things together once there are enough parts."

"I'm so sorry." The boy said. "But how did you?..."

"Haymond probably told Eugene about my dad and my family. Maybe he was mistakenly vague when he was talking about them." The girl said.

*****

The consecutive gunshots echoed into the home, followed by the sounds of boots coming closer and closer to the mayor's property. His daughter, having been bedridden due to a severe stomach ache peeked out the window to see something straight out of her greatest fears. Before her, a loving family was strewn all around the yard. Her mother was dead a few feet away from the table, her father was on the stairs into the home with a bullet hole in the back of his skull. Her little brother was helpless in the face of five mysterious men who had emerged from the brush to survey the tragedy of their making.