An Outlaws Final Retribution

An Outlaws Final Retribution

The horse strode through the deserted wasteland; tumbleweed tossed and turned in the desert wind spreading sand on the withered horse like an artist with their colours. A rider lay helplessly on top, blood dripping from his chest, laying colour to this blank landscape. His face smothered in sand covering the identity of this dreary man whose life seemed to have been drained from him. The wind wafted his brown hair as if it was trying to wake this hopeless soul back from the dead. Clothes were tattered leaving his body to battle against the harsh temperatures; the bright colours from his clothes were drained along with his will to live. Tumbleweed flew past almost scraping against the dusted hooves of the sickly horse whose legs had started to tremble from exhaustion. The black hairs on the horse had started to wither way before the horse gave a last snort before collapsing to the ground. The horse did not twitch after that or even made a single noise just like its rider.

1 week before

Blood covered the floor; a river of blood touched the hand of a woman who was faced down on the cracked wooden floors.  The room was a mess, parts from tables and chairs were decorated over the room. Paintings were ripped and lay on the floor and glass bottles scattered the floor allowing the light, from the far window by the door, to shine through make the floor sparkle with blood stained shards.  The door at left hand side of the room, which led to the bedroom where this young lady had laid happily, was left unclosed.  A crumpled piece of paper left carelessly by the body had soaked up the bloody fluids around it. Suddenly the door flung open and in its’ place was the face of a distraught man whose shoulders slung to his side. A single tear trickled from his hazelnut eyes down the side of his face through the obstacle course of his bristly beard before falling from his sharp and square jawline onto the hard ground leading a path for the rest to follow. He was happily married until he found his three months pregnant wife on the floor. He paced his way slowly towards the his wife before fully crumbling down to roll her on her back and clenching her, for a moment nothing had happened until the cowboy picked up the note with one hand while still cradling his lost wife in the other. He unravelled it uneasily, not wanting to know who were dastardly enough to commit a heinous crime. The letter was difficult to open without ripping as the blood had sealed it shut but when it finally came unstuck; it revealed the devilish handwritten letter that was crafted by his mortal enemies the Range Rover Gang. The words on the letter read-

Der Mr Williamson,

You shold of lisned to us wen we told you dat tresure was ours. Was it woth losin’ yer wife for, I darn think so but you can still save yur yungin’ if yur will be willin’ to give up dat tresure. We be holdin’ her up in the north canyen next to blue lake town. Be ther’ or get redy yer fishin’ net for scoopin’ the ded body of yer daughter out the lake. Hur hur hur.

From yur der ol’ friend the Mr Gudgens.

Tears poured down his face even heavier now, knowing that his dumb actions caused the death of his wife, something that he would carry on to blame himself for, for the rest of his life. He took off his hat and wiped his tears away before promising that this was the last time he would carry out deeds under his outlaw name ‘Coyote Williams’, he also promised that he would take of the kids to teach them to be law abiding citizens. His emotion changed suddenly as his last promise left from his peeled lips as he knew he was on the a mission to bring down the range rover gang, his face filled to the brim with anger as his thoughts of what he would do to the range rover gang filled his mind.