The winds were howling and a lone figure rode silently through the maelstrom as if he were a ghost. In a sense he was a ghost, a ghost of bygone eras.
He rode to the top of a hill to overlook a small town. He grimaced as rain hit his face no longer covered by the sturdy hat. It was here 2 years ago that he and his people had been deprived of their freedom, freedom and the pursuit of hapiness had been bought out, executed and thrown in a shallow grave. However, he was back from what was the death of this.
He sat ontop of the ridge, every bit the epitome of what the harsh land made a person into. The war had changed him and so would this. War had changed him before and so would in the future. Times of joy and strife come and go.
He proceeded down the hill to the small town to hear the chiming of the piano and rukus of laughter that came from the saloon. It was a joyus time for some as the cattlemen had just taken a herd off and the money back. Money that would go to buying stock and importantly for al, paying morgtages.
He made his way around the back of the saloon, convently next to the bank. As those with heavy pockets from the bank could lighten them at the saloon. The back was a muddy quagmire that lost the prints of liberty and al quickly in the downpour. He threw his sadle bags over his shoulder and made way to the bank.
He picked the door and made his way in quietly before ducking into a closet as he heard mens voices coming down the hall.
"You dont have a worry mr.carlson, your assets are safe here."
Al sneered at the next mans voice, "I have no doubt they will be fine here."
"As long as there's a bank standing. Would you care for a drink?"
Al smirked he would see about that.
"I ll take you up on your offer. Hey, did you here about that sarah woman?"
"No."
Al could hear the smirk in the mans voice as it faded out into the back lot with the slam of the door.
Al wasting no time went to the safe and squated down next to it pressing his ear to the cold metal. He twisted the dial till he heard the clicks, and the door swung open. He roughly shoved money and gold into the bags. He suddlenly dropped bellow the nearby window sil as a light flashed through the window.
"Hey john, did ya see anything over there?"
"No. Come on were wastin time here."
The light left and al crept back to the safe. He couldnt see well except for the light provided by the burst of lightning. He reached into his coat pocket to pull out a book of matches and strike it on his boot.
He stared at the flame a bit thinking about England before bringing it close to papers stacked in the corner. He rifled through them till he came to the name he was looking for, carlson. He stashed them in his coat pocket.
He shut the safe door and slipped out to liberty. He rode out of that town feeling better knowing that a few stiff shirts from washington and philidelphia were coming down here. Sam Thompson may be a outlaw but that doesnt mean Alfred f. Jones dosent have connections. The cattlemen no longer uad claim to the land, you see al had seen of that.
The next morning a poor family woke to the sound of chickens clucking madly and horse hooves stoming away. They came out to find a basket with a pheasants and papers.Sarah looked to her husband who was staring in disbelief. Papers they thought has gone up in smoke.
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America watched from behind an outcrop of rocks as a lone rider of a horse rode briskly through the gorge. The rider was lassoed and pulled off his horse as a group of men surrounded him. Al felt half bad for the man. He'd been there before. Feeling pity and a bit of greed he took out the men as the rider buried his head in the dirt. Al made his way down from the rocks with the agility of a fox.
He looked at the man then nudged him with his boot, "Get up."
