Partida Rol por web

Yes... we'll get Maddox. My heart isn't in it. God's my witness, I wanted no more killing. I could've bought that town with a whisper. But not now. Harvey's death finished any chance of doing it without guns. Damn you, Harvey.- Vincent Bronson

Ryan and Crowe arrived at the Bronson ranch driving the wagon with Harvey Stenbaughs body. Jason Bronson came out to greet them, but the look on Ryan´s face made him stop.

Everyone stood still when Ryan got down and walked into the main building to look for Vincent Bronson. No words were heard, but soon enough the cattle baron walked through the arch to the yard…

There was a grim expression on his face. He had already heard the words from Ryan´s mouth, but yet he had to see for himself.

Without saying a word, he walked to the back of the wagon, and lifted the the cloth covering Harvey´s body.

And then Vincent Bronson closed his eyes…

Bad news. All over the place, every day, every time, all he had was bad news. For everyone. He had tried all his life, once and again, to make things right for him and everyone around him, but nevermind how much effort he put on or how hard he tried, there was always a corpse in the way, and a shocked expression to face. The first was his friend's. Then, his boss's. And from the latter, he could see that news wasn't enough. Vincent Bronson wasn't a man that could just accept a death with a few words. He had seen him talking to a tomb. He was the kind of man that needed to see the corpse by himself.

Without saying a word, he walked towards him. He wasn't going to put his hand on his shoulder, he respected him enough to give him space. But he wanted to be there, close, as to pay his respects.

Crowe stood behind Bronson as the cattle baron gestured for the body to be taken inside the main building. There, Harvey was laid on a table of a room close to the entrance, and an old Indian woman who was almost part of the family started cleaning and embalming the corpse. The room was silent, and Crowe noticed how Bronson had blank stare in his eyes as he watched, holding on to the door frame for support.

No words were spoken, not in that room. But when Bronson walked to the main lounge, Jason, Ryan and Crowe followed closely behind. And they felt a thunder slowly building up inside him.

-You know what that man meant to me?, he said raising his voice interrupting Ryan even before he had finished telling what had happened. -I held him above all other men. Closer even than my brothers. I want him, Ryan. I want him broken. I want his face in the dirt. And I’ll hang what's left of him hang him for the murderer he is. I don't care how. I don't care who, so long as I’m there to see it. His voice was cold and harsh, and he seemed almost beyond reason.

As any human being, he wasn't happy for Bronson's pain. In no case would he have told him to stop whining, when he knew first hand how tough it was to lose someone close to you. But even if he didn't say it, if he wouldn't have dreamt of even show it in the smallest way, he was so deeply uncomfortable with this whole situation that he was begging for it to end every god-awful second that the woman spent embalming good ol' Harvey. And even when he walked to the main lounge, Crowe wasn't anything but relieved to be as far away of the corpse and that woman as he could.

Even before Bronson had open his mouth, Crowe knew that any chance of peace was gone. And the thing was that, he couldn't blame him. He knew exactly how anger could blind you after a loved one's death. 

But even more, this could be a good opportunity for him. And as it, he was going to take it, without hesitation. So far from saying no, he just nodded.

-It wasn´t murder, Mr. Bronson, Ryan interrupted. I saw the whole thing, I was there, on the prod…

-I call it murder!, he shouted. -and I want something done about it. The great Cotton Ryan, he said with soft malice. -You were good with a gun once. Oh, you were beautiful. But Fort Bliss was a long time ago, wasn't it, Ryan? I don't like men sweating fear in my house.

Ryan did not want to get into an argument with Bronson, not now. -You pay me, Mr. Bronson, and I eat your dirt. But that don't make what you say right, he muttered and left the room.

The old man looked sorry to see Ryan go. He knew he had been out of line. The sheriff was a good man, and a man he could trust. He looked at Jason and Crowe, his son and the young cowboy who was also Jason´s friend. –I´ve got a job for you, both. Jace, ride to Vern´s ranch, and bring him here. You Crowe, I know I can count on you. Ride to Price´s farm, and tell him what has happened. I want him here also. And if any of you sees Dekker, Choctaw or Alacran, they need to get their asses here sooner than later.

These things are what they were hired for, for God´s sake!

-After the buryin´ … we´ll deal with Maddox.

He kept silent as everything happened, as if the sccene was in slow motion entirely. Cotton being angry was worse than bad news, and he was loyal, an ally that they couldn't afford to lose because of a tantrum. He frowned his lips as he thought if he should catch him, or if he should just let him go. Luckily, his train of thoughts was interrupted by the father of his friend. - Sure thing, boss - he answered, knowing exactly why he was calling those three. Apparently, he was going to be the errand boy forever. Maybe if he had won that contest...

I'm on it - he added before tipping his hat towards both men and walking out of the room. With any luck, he still would be able to catch Cotton.

Crowe caught up with Cotton Ryan behind the stables. The sheriff was about to get on his horse, but stopped when he saw Crowe walking towards him. The young cowboy looked determined to make his mark, to show his worth.

 -Listen to me Crowe, he said in a serious voice. -You look like you got your teeth set on the edge, boy. You ain´t even on that damn list. What´s in it for you? What´re ya tryin´ to prove?

I ain't tryin' to prove a thing, Cotton - he answered, though it wasn't the most sincere answer in the world - Listen, Vincent is having a tough time, he just lost someone who could have been his brother. He's a little on edge, but I'm sure he didn't mean to say what he said. - taking into account how few people had a good enough relationship with Bronson, it seemed pure foolishness to let him go like that - He knows he went too far, you could ee it on his face. So don't take it too personal, alright?

–Yeah, I know what Harv meant to him. But I also know Harv went after Maddox. We were there. He put the horn in him, and then he made his move first, the sheriff said remembering what had happened.-I don´t reckon Mr. Bronson ought to  go to a man like Maddox with a hammer. He should finish that thing in Bannock first. Go back there. He can buy the whole town...and the judge that goes with it. And then deal with Maddox. That´s how I see it. But it´s too late now, Crowe.

Cotton was silent for a moment longer, pondering. –Guess you´re right, he´s havin´ a tough time. I ain´t gonna hold what he said to me against him.

Then he rode away quickly, leaving Crowe wondering if there ever had been another way out of this…

] Crowe got on his horse, and rode to the opposite direction, towards the Price Farm. He had visited the place a few times, a modest farm Hurd and Laura were trying to fix and grow crop in the dry and barren land. It was a few hours ride to the high country. Plenty of time to go through things in his mind, over and over again. Each choice, each action, had brought him here. The actions made the man. That was all that counted.

As he rode he kept thinking about what Cotton had said, but even if he knew he was absolutely right and that there were smarter solutions to that problem, he also knew his place. And he was in no place for telling Mr.Bronson what to do or what not to do. And if he was, he wouldn't tell him anyway. There was nothing better for calming a man seeking revenge than the blood of his enemies. And right now, Maddox was on that list.

At least, the sheriff hadn't taken Vincent's mood badly, which was a good thing anyway. 

Crowe rode further south, towards the Price ranch. He remembered there was a crossing from where he had to take a narrow path to get to the ranch.

As he approached the crossing, he could see vultures having a feast around a dead horse. And there was another horse, and a man holding a shotgun looking at tracks. He had not seen Crowe yet, and from the distance it was difficult to see who he was.

Holding his gun but without taking it out or aiming it to the stranger, Crowe approached him in deliberately noisy fashion, making sure he would hear the horse coming. As far as he knew, he could be anyone that just happened to stumbled upon the body. Ok, it wasn't the best explanation, but it was the one he wanted to believe. Knowing how simple fantastic this day had began, he could only imagine how much it would stink by the end of it. 

How you doin'? - he asked, with a smile, tiping his hat - What happened here? - he added frowning and looking at the corpse. The other man was loonking at the tracks. Who would he be tracking if this was his kill?

Crowe approached the scene. He could see the dead horse, and his friend Hurd looking at the tracks. But he seemed oblivious to everything around him. He was holding his shotgun, his hands trembling and he was pale as if he had seen a ghost.

Crowe got no reply from him to his greeting, and Hurd got on his horse. The saddle bags seemed heavy as if both horses had been going for a longer trip. It was then Crowe spotted the dead horse as Vern´s. And there were blood stains on the ground. Someone had ambushed Vern, and took him away from here.

Maddox?

The cowboy had to raise his voice to catch Hurd´s attention as he was guiding his horse towards the path heading south, away from Sabbath, away from his ranch, the Bronsons, even his woman Laura.