Outlaws - An American Youth - [Charles Smith x OC]

Chapter 62 - Red Dead Redemption - Part 1

"When these things begin to happen,
Stand up and lift up your heads, 
Because your redemption is drawing near."

Saint Luke, 21, 28.

I remember every detail of that day. The weather was gray and windy, rain threatened but never fell. The wind was blowing the last leaves still present in the trees. I remember the gloomy gray light that surrounded the ranch. Autumn was here, winter would be soon. I had stayed at home. There was still a lot to do before the bad days came, and Benjamin had my confidence to run the practice. He only had to come and get me when needed.

While Charles was outside tending to the animals, I was busy in the kitchen putting in jars the last fruits our trees had given us. I remember getting lost in all these products. And the smell of apple sauce. Liters and liters of apple sauce. We could have opened our own store. Next to me, Alice was gently playing with the new doll her daddy had just given her.

I was fully busy when I heard noise in the distance. Wiping my hands, I stepped out onto the porch, expecting to see my assistant or a resident appearing in an instant for an emergency. But soon I realized that it was not the wheels of a cart that we were hearing, but a car. No one had a car in the area, only a few travelers from the big city used them. Quite often, custodians of authority.

Charles had also approached. He was standing a few feet from me, at the top of the driveway leading to our house. Alice came out after me, clinging to my skirt. She must have felt our tension. When he realized who was coming, Charles calmly turned to our little girl, asking her with a reassuring smile to go back inside the house. I patted her head as she obeyed her father.

We exchanged a terrible look. Tears of anguish started to rise but he smiled at me. A quiet smile that immediately calmed me. He wasn't afraid. So, I shouldn't be afraid either. Be strong, that's what he was telling me with that relaxed face. I took a deep breath and smiled back at him, whispering yet another I love you.

He should have pulled out his sawn-off cannon and fired.

I should have pulled out my gun and fired.

But neither of us moved. To this day, I still have no idea what held him back. Maybe he just wasn't that man who shoots first anymore. Despite the pain and the anger, perhaps he wanted to hear what this visitor had to say. As for me, I think I was paralyzed with fear. Perhaps it was the survival instinct that had taken over. Maybe bearing a life kept me from taking one.

So, we didn't shoot. To believe that we had really managed to get out of this life of violence and murder. But this transformation was of little importance to our visitor. He was there for one purpose, to enforce the law, no matter what.

We just watched this car stop a few feet away from us, violating the privacy of our shelter. Two men got out, while a third stayed behind the wheel. They stayed by the vehicle, lighting up cigarettes before finally speaking.

"It wasn't easy to find you, Mr. Smith.

- Agent Ross.

- Imagine that John Marston... Oh, by the way, he's dead, but you probably already know that."

Charles had tensed at the words. He had imperceptibly brought his hand to his weapon. I was no longer breathing. I would have sold my soul to the devil to make these men disappear instantly.

"So, I was saying, John Marston told us you were dead. But you see, I had my doubts. And then an incredible story came to our ears. With a little persuasion, tongues came loose in Blackwater. Rumor had it that there was a man in Beecher's Hope, half black, half Indian who ended up moving to Canada. A few weeks later, the city doctor, a woman, also left for Canada to join her fiancé. It didn't take us long to figure out the equation. And after months of research, we hear about shots fired by two people exactly matching your description. Another proof that there is no possible change. An outlaw will always be an outlaw."

He cleared his throat, crushing his smoldering cigarette on the floor. For a moment, only the wind in the leaves was heard. We were all frozen, as if posing for a photographer who was slow to activate his camera.

"Anyway. You are the last Mr. Smith. The last of this band of degenerates. It's a new era, we can no longer afford to have outlaws on the loose. Even converted into peasants. Even living outside our borders."

Another gust of wind surprised the agent, making him swear. He obviously didn't appreciate the harshness of our country. He looked away from us, turning to his assistant.

"We've wasted enough time in this hole. Let's get it done, Mr. Howard."

At these words, the man raised his weapon. Charles did the same. It all happened in a few seconds.

Bang

Bang

Bang