A Lawless Land

What becomes of an honest man when all his options have run out? When he's on the run? When he's already lost what's most important in this world? What becomes of that man?

The scorching sun beat down on the cracked earth, relentlessly, day in and day out. A lone traveler by the name of John Hems rode across the empty plains. His green eyes scoured the horizon for signs of a town. For days he had been riding. He had only stopped to make camp once and his supplies had already run out. His stomach ached and his parched throat cried out for water. But he couldn't do anything about all that. So, he rode. He never despaired. He didn't have it in him to do so. With his eyes filled with determination, he rode.

The dry grass swayed as a breeze rushed through. John slowly brought his horse to a leisure trot. There, just at the base of a small hill was a quaint town. There were very few buildings, a sizable water tower being the biggest of the bunch.

John's heart swelled with relief. Slowly but surely he made his way down the hill.

As he got closer, he began to notice just how small the place was. It seemed like a single road cut through the entirety of the township. A sign hung just above the entrance to the town.

'Scotty' It read in worn letters. 

John strolled into town on the back of his horse. The road was empty save for the odd tumbleweed. John could feel the eyes of strangers on him. Each worn face looked at him with an indescribable look. Was it fear? Was it curiosity? He didn’t know. He could hear as the shutters of windows were hastily closed. Something was off. John got a strange feeling from this town. But more important than that was the feeling of dryness in his throat. He took a look around and spotted the place.

‘Saloon’ 

Of course there was one. A man always needed a place to drink after all. John got off his horse and walked on over. Leaning just beside the door was a rather unruly man. His graying facial hair had clearly never been trimmed and he seemed to be missing a few teeth. As John tied his horse to a fencepost the  man drunkenly stumbled over. It was clear he’d had one too many drinks.

“Hey there..stranjar.'' The man slurred his words and stunted his sentences. His demeanor was quite friendly. It seemed like the alcohol had left him quite giddy. He set his hand on John's shoulder. “Ya…got money fora…drink.”

“I'm sorry sir.” John tried to brush the man off. He really couldn’t afford to be giving out money. Yet despite John trying to move away, the man clung to his shirt. John was at least half a foot bigger than him but he must have been too drunk to care.

“Please man…just enough fur one.” John tried to pull away but the man held on tight. 

“Look sir, just…” John fished through his pocket and brought out a single quarter. “Here ya go. That should be enough.” The man finally let go and snatched the quarter from John with a greedy look in his eye. Without thanking him, the man stumbled back over to the saloon entrance. John brushed off his shoulders and followed close behind.

While the drunk man barged in without a care in the world, John was more discreet. He slowly popped his head in. Many of the tables were empty. There was the odd man, sitting alone, with a single drink on the table, but right in the center was a rowdy group. A table of ten it seemed. They laughed and hollered like this was the place to be. Following the man from earlier, John sidestepped them and made his way to the bar. He took a seat on one of the many stools. The bartender slid on over to John after serving the drunken man.

“What wouldya like?” He asked casually. 

“Whatevers cheapest.” The bartender raised an eyebrow, but he just as soon nodded his head and pulled out a glass of dirty water. He poured the liquid into a small shot glass.

“Here ya go.” John paid the man and quickly drained his glass. Despite being old, dirty, and hot, the water was sweet. Like the first rain after a long summer. John was delighted by the refreshing feeling. “You've been here long?” He asked the bartender.

“Long enough.” the bartender replied. “Why?”

“I was just wonderin if this town’s got an inn.” John wasn’t prepared to camp out another night. This town was the first settlement he’d stopped at since. The town was small so there definitely was no guarantee.

“Yeah, there's a place. At the very edge of town you'll find a house. Ya pay em’ and they'll let ya stay.”

“Thanks” He told the bartender as he took another sip of his drink. But as he drank another man sat beside him.

“ A shot of whiskey.” He told the bartender while tossing him a couple coins. John turned. It was one of the men from the middle table. He had scraggly hair and dirty clothes. Despite this he carried an air of charisma. The other men looked at him as if wondering what he was up to. “Here.” The man slid the shot glass on the table over to John.

“Thanks.” John replied curtly. He looked down on the glass of whiskey. He hesitated to take the gift so willingly. Now really wasn’t the time to drink and be merry. He needed to keep his wits about him. 

John looked back at the man. He carried a revolver on his hip. His smile was friendly enough, yet veiled behind his crooked teeth was a menacing stare. “Ya gonna drink?” The man asked, still smiling.

“Course’.” John said boldly, trying not to reveal just how uncomfortable he was. He picked up the shot glass and downed it in one go. “Hmmm” He could feel his throat burn up as the alcohol passed through. 

“So stranger, what's your name?” The man asked in an unassuming manner. 

“John, John Hems.” The man nodded like he was satisfied with the answer John had given him.

“Well you can call me Flint. This is my posse.” He gestured to the table of men he’d been with earlier. There were 9 of them. Each of them carried a pistol on their hip like Flint. Unlike Flint, the way they looked at John was a lot less cordial. “Ya see I basically run this town so I thought I’d introduce myself to a big guy like yourself.’”

 John did his best to hide his uneasiness. He twisted his glass, a nervous habit of his. It was then that the drunken man beside him decided to speak up.

“Whaddya mean ‘run this town’...You and yur gang aint’ nuthin but a bunch of rats who—” He froze. In a fraction of a second Flint had drawn his pistol and put the barrel to the drunken man’s forehead.

“What was that, Cody?” Flint had dropped the smile. The room grew tense as he slowly cocked the hammer back. The subtle click seemed to echo throughout the room. It seemed that old Cody wasn’t drunk enough to stare down a gun to his head. He slowly shrunk back. Everyone was silent. Finally Flint relaxed his thumb and re-holstered his gun. “Relax.” He said jokingly as if he never intended to shoot. But John knew. The way he’d looked at Cody, he was fully prepared to kill him. “So John, I ain’t seen you here before?” Flint spoke as if he hadn’t just pulled a gun on someone. John was shook.

“I’m making my way west. I just got into town.” John wasn’t lying, he just wasn’t telling the whole truth. But it seemed like Flint could read him like a book. 

“Where ya from?” He asked, pressing further. 

“A small town out east, you wouldn’t know it.” John’s answer was deliberate. Unlike Flint, his words didn’t carry an ounce of friendliness. He didn’t like being pressed like this. He stood up and set his glass down. “Now Flint, it's been a pleasure, but the sun's setting.” John did his best not to show how tense he was. But Flint seemed to catch on that John wanted out of there and back off.

“Nice meetin’ you John, I hope you like my town.” Flint called out as John left. But John didn’t look back.

***

John knocked three times. The sun was setting fast so he’d gone to the inn he was told about. There was no sign. It really just looked like a house. It was quite worn down and like everything in this town, it was dirty. 

The door opened and there just behind the doorway was an older woman. She wore an ankle length dress and had fair skin. John could see a fear fill her eyes as she opened the door. She quickly tried to shut the door causing John to reach out and grab the door.

“Hello ma’am, I was hoping to rent a room.” John nearly filled the small doorway so he understood how she could be scared. He did his best to come off as peaceful. The woman let go of the door backed up in fright.

“G-get out!” She squeaked. John was confused. Wasn’t this supposed to be an inn? Why was this woman so scared?

“Ma’am I was told this was an inn. I just came into town and was hoping to stay the night.” John told the woman. As he told her this, it was her that became confused. John had his hands up showing that he meant no harm and the woman began to calm down. But just as this happened he heard a yell from down the hall. A man sprinted down the hall toward John with a cudgel.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH” John backed up as the man swung the cudgel wildly toward his head. He swung back and forth forcing John out of the house. 

“Calm down!” John tried to tell the man, but he kept swinging. His eyes were filled with rage as he aimed to kill John. The woman tried to help, crying for him to stop but he didn’t listen. Finally John stopped backing up. As the cudgel came for his head, John's massive hand came up and caught the weapon.

“CALM DOWN!” John roared. The man was shocked. He let go of his weapon and scurried back. John took a deep breath as he noticed the man's panicked face. He threw down the cudgel and put his hands up. “I just want a room to stay in one night.”

“It’s okay sweetie. I don't think he’s one of them.” The woman rushed over to reassure her husband. Then she turned to John. “We’re so sorry. Please, come inside.” She gestured for him to come in. 

***

Sitting across from John was the man who just tried to attack him. Now they were apparently having dinner together. The woman and her husband, Laura and Pete, had invited John to join them to make up for Pete’s outburst. 

“Here you go” Laura said politely as she handed John a glass of water. Both her and Pete were much calmer now.

“So,” Pete started to say. “I’m sorry about earlier. I thought you were one of them.”

“Them?” John asked.

“Right.” Pete thought for a moment. He took a sip from his glass and looked at his wife. Then he turned back to John.  “About a month ago, a group of men tried to force their way in. Pulled a gun on us. They were led by a man named ‘Flint’. He told us he was taking our town. There was nothing we could do.” The hate welled up in his eyes once more, except this time it wasn’t directed at John. “I suggest you leave this town as soon as you can.”

John twisted his glass as he began to piece things together. The anger now made sense. A twisting feeling began to eat John up inside.  Could nothing be done?

“Look.” He told Pete. “I’m just looking to stay one night.” Pete shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, we’re no inn but we got an extra room. Used to have my grandmother living here. Come, I’ll take you.” Pete stood up and gestured for John to follow. The two walked through the hallway till they reached a worn wooden door. Pete opened the door and brought John in. The room was small. A single bed sat at the back of the room with a nightstand beside it. A small unlit lantern sat on the nightstand. 

“Well I’ll leave ya.” Pete left John alone in the room.John took a silent walk around. He touched the surface of the sheets. They were dusty. In one swift motion he whipped the sheets up sending the dust flying into the air. Still, no matter how dusty it was, having a bed to sleep on was nice.

John took off his duster. Holstered in his coat was a revolver. John grabbed the pistol. His hands trembled. His head was clear but his body was tired. He thought back to his conversation with Pete. He’d be gone soon enough so it didn’t much matter. Was he really any different? Would he just keep running?

John set his gun down. Now wasn’t the time.

***

It was early in the morning. The frigid air bit at John’s fingers as he untied his horse. He didn’t tell Pete or Laura that he was leaving. The sooner he left this town the better. He grabbed the reins. It was then that he heard a voice call out to him.

“Leaving so soon.” He turned. It was Flint. John glared at him, wondering why he was here.

“You're up early.” He responded. The air was tense. Both men stood at a distance. Flint shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m an early riser.” He started casually. He wore a devilish grin and John put the reins back. He was sick of that pleased smirk. A fake smile that was fooling no one. John stepped forward.

“What do you want?” He asked flatly. 

“You know, there’s only a few reasons a man like you would come by this good for nothin town, and it ain't 'cuz you’re travelin. You're on the run.” Flint had hit the nail on the head.

“Watch it!” John growled.

“I was just plannin on askin if you’d like to join me and my gang. You know things are a hell of a lot easier if folks like us stick together. We got this whole town on lock. You could hide out here.”

“I’m not looking to get involved with outlaws.” John responded.

“Outlaws!?” Flint mocked. “Look around. There ain’t no law around here.” He gestured to the rest of the town just behind him.

Right then and there it clicked for John. That's how it was. His anger cooled. He took another step forward. “You know Flint, you're right.” Flint’s smile grew wider. 

“So what do you say?” Flint asked smugly. John reached into his jacket.

“There is no law around here.” 

*BANG*

Smoke filled the cold morning air. Flint's smile faded as his body collapsed to the floor. Silence filled the atmosphere as John stood alone, holding the smoking gun. Then without batting an eye he holstered his gun and went back to his horse. He mounted the steed and, as slowly as he came in, trotted out of town. He would be long gone before anyone would see what had happened. 

John wasn’t an honest man. But he did what he thought was right. After all, a lawless land is no place for honesty.