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| "THE MERCIFUL"
by Kyle Reardon!!!!!!
Flint Alabaster’s back smacked against the wooden floor. The dust that had been collecting on the wooden floor of the old ranch house billowed into a sudden cloud of dirt and began to settle around him as the figure of David Wells towered over him. Flint’s hands went up in a feeble attempt to protect himself from the shear power of David’s anger. David pulled the hammer back on his revolver and bent down onto his knees. He pressed the barrel into Flint’s bony cheek. “I loved my wife,” David’s words came out in a soft, yet cold way that made Flint’s spine tingle and quiver.
David Wells and his wife, Katherine, had just finished placing the last of their modest furniture around the two rooms of their modest house, which sat at the center of their modest ranch. They didn’t have very much at all, but they were very young, and that was excusable. Katherine walked to her young husband and nestled herself inside the crook of his arm, a sweetly content smile square on her face. “It’ll do,” she said to David, the satisfaction was also in her voice.
“It’ll do, yes, at least for the next six months,” was his reply.
“The first six months? What happens after that?”
“Well by then we’ll have the biggest ranch in the state, and we’ll have to sell this place. It’ll be far too much hassle caring for it from our giant mansion.”
“Those big dreams will get you in trouble, David Wells.”
“I know. I dreamed about you every day and night for two years, and look at me now. More trouble than I knows what to do with.” She pinched his arm affectionately. He sat her down and gave her a kiss.
It had been three weeks, and their three cattle had grown to five, and David had been spending many hours of the day working business out in town. It was hard for a man to start a life from nothing more than a two-room house and three cows. But David Wells had something that most men didn’t. David had Katherine. David would come home after a long day of this and that only to find that his wife loved him a little more than when he had left, and David couldn’t help but feel the same way whenever he saw her beautiful face and warm welcoming smile.
The fourth Wednesday in their new routine, David found himself leaving exceptionally early to go to town. He had recently been cheated out of a price for one of his cows, and was on his way to set things straight, as civil as he could. He began the seven-mile ride into town, kissing his wife goodbye. He mounted his horse, but before starting off, he heard Katherine’s voice, “David,” she shouted to him, “Anything I can do for you?”
“Pray, Darlin’, that our deal don’t go south.”
“I always do.”
“I’m off to give ‘em Hell.” He laughed and began to turn.
“Show ‘em mercy, David Wells.”
“Best I can Darling, most as my body will allow.”
David had been gone for the better part of six hours. Katherine past the time the way her grandmother had taught her. “If you got a minute for yourself,” she would say to a young Katherine, “You can give a minute to the good Lord who gave them to you in the first place.” Katherine poured over the words of her old hand-me-down Bible, waiting for her husband to return to her.
Then in the distance she heard the sound of horse hooves. She rose to greet who she thought was her husband when she noticed that there was more than one horse approaching the house. She began to feel her heart beat faster. She backed toward their stove and reached for a pan, gripping it tight in her hand. She heard several pairs of footsteps come toward the door. CRACK – the wooden door flung open, the heavy kick of a boot coming from the other side. A tall lanky man with bony cheeks and a crooked mouth walked in. He placed his hands on his hips and said loudly: “M’ name’s Flink Alabaster, and I’m bored as Hell. And wouldn’t ya know it? Yer pretty.”
Katherine began to swing the pan with as much force as she had. While she did feel the sickening crack of one of the men’s skull beneath it, there are few grown men who could take on Flint Alabaster and his two boys.
David knew something wasn’t right when he didn’t see his wife waiting for him in the doorway. His horse had been plenty loud in his hurry to get home to her. He walked with apprehension into the tiny home he and his wife shared. What few belongings they had were strewn onto the floor, their furniture was tipped and out of place. Then he saw the body of a man on the ground. His head had been smacked with something heavy, heavy enough to kill him. The he saw her. His beautiful, wonderful wife Katherine – lying on the floor, blood smeared across her face, her skirt ripped and torn. He collapsed next to the cold body of his bride, cradling her limp bloody body in his shaking arms.
David Wells marched to the shed behind his small home. He torn open the small door and dug through the various odds and ends to find a long box covered in years of dust. The box, after a quick wipe-down, proved to be polished, solid and beautiful. He cracked the lid open, and removed and loaded his father’s civil war revolver. David marched back into his house and grabbed the dead man and yanked him by the collar from his home and threw him on the ground outside. He turned and stole a glance at the sheet covering the body of his dead Katherine.
The words didn’t come. He tried to speak to his wife, let her know that he would bury her as she deserved. Let her know that he would figure it all out, let her know that he still loved her more with each passing minute. But the words didn’t come. David tied the body of the man to the back of his horse in a rather slapdash manner. He mounted, and rode as fast as his horse would take him back into town.
The sun was setting, and the people still about were all piled into the old hotel bar. Piano music filled the air, poker games were being played, hard liquor was being drank, and plenty of shouting was going around. David tied up his horse and cut the dead man off of his horse.
The saloon doors swung open as the dead body hurled through them and landed on the floor face up. David wells stepped into the now quiet bar and bellowed: “WHO IS THIS BASTARD?”
The people weren’t sure what to look at, the dead man, or the lunatic who brought him. Finally an older man glanced down at the lifeless face and muttered in surprise: “Tommy Alabaster?”
“Who?” demanded David.
“Well it’s Tommy Alabaster, Flint Alabaster’s little brother.”
“Who does he ride with?”
“Well that trouble making brother of his, Flint, and that sunufabitch Cole Marko. They’ve been rolling around causing all sorts of trouble. What did they get up to now?”
“They raped and murdered my wife. Where are the other two?” The saloon was in murmur now. Some were astonished that anyone could have killed one of Flint Alabaster’s boys, other were torn to hear that David Wells’ wife, poor sweet wonderful Katherine had been raped and murdered.
“They hold up in his father’s old ranch house, two miles east of here. What are you going to do?”
“There shouldn’t be much guessing involved.” David turned to leave, Tommy Alabaster’s body lying on the floor.
“Boy,” bellowed a voice from deep in the back of the saloon. “Don’t you go and get revenge now.”
“Pardon, but I don’t think it’s much of your concern.”
“Listen, boy. Vengeance is the Lord’s. And I’m pretty sure that you are not the Lord.”
“It doesn’t matter much. One Flint and Cole meet him, they can tell me all about how our savior felt about it later.”
“Listen, son! You and I both know your wife feared God. She was a wise woman. She would know the difference between our work and His.” David had nothing more to say. He got on his horse, and began to ride east.
The last rays of the sun had set, and David could see lamplight in the window of the old ranch house. David climbed off his horse and walked toward the house, his gun loaded and drawn. David heard shouting from within the house. “Who the Hell is that?” demanded Cole Marko as he pushed open the door. His right hand held his gun, his left the door. “Well if we got visitors, it’s mighty rude of them not to show us their pretty faces!” CRACK – the sound of a gun echoed across the ground. Cole Marko looked down at his hand and counted his finger. Now Cole was no math wiz, but he knew that he should have had more that two fingers. He ran screaming into the night. David gave him a second bullet right in the back of his leg and he stumbled to the ground.
David strolled into the house and heard the sound of someone realizing that they should run away. David rounded a corner and saw Flint Alabaster trying to load his revolver. He had almost finished when a third CRACK was heard, and he felt searing pain in his left leg. David ran at him and grabbed him by the collar.
Flint Alabaster’s back smacked against the wooden floor. The dust that had been collecting on the wooden floor of the old ranch house billowed into a sudden cloud of dirt and began to settle around him as the figure of David Wells towered over him. Flint’s hands went up in a feeble attempt to protect himself from the shear power of David’s anger. David pulled the hammer back on his revolver and bent down onto his knees. He pressed the barrel into Flint’s bony cheek. “I loved my wife,” David’s words came out in a soft, yet cold way that made Flint’s spine tingle and quiver. He knew who this man must be.
“I loved her so much… so much… and you took that from me… from us… for no reason. You had no reason. Well I have a reason. I have a strong reason.” David pushed the barrel into Flint’s cheek. He reached for the trigger – but didn’t pull it. He put his finger down. Air rushed to his lungs as he took a deep breath and reached for it again, and once again he held back.
“You… you deserve it…” muttered David as tears began to well.
He stood up, un cocked his gun, and headed toward the door. “THAT’S IT?” cried Cole from the ground. “THAT’S ALL YOU GOT?” David ignored the laughter of the Bastard Cole Marko. As he walked calmly away, David heard the sound of tow loud pops. He felt the hot searing pieces of lead lodge in his back, and then, David Wells felt nothing.
He was home.
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| Psh, people be talkin' smack 'bout stuff they don't even KNOW 'bout. They all be like, 'Yo, dis is dis and dat is dat,' and I say, 'Naw, dat ain't it at ALL. You don't even KNOW.' But they don't believe me.
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Yeah, that's my new camera. It's for my little video now / PHOTO business I have. It's pretty stellar. | | |
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It sucked.
Big time. | | |
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