Three mistakes, one correction

Another day, another twenty miles to travel before the next day begins. Such is the life of an honest man, as my pa used to say. It was also frequent for him to say how there is no shame in doing anything so long as I can support myself and not put another human being in a worse predicament. He used to say many words, some of which could have even been considered wise somewhere else, but this isn’t somewhere else, and it is such a wise way of living that it cost him his life.

Alonzo West is the name of the person responsible for this act. Once a myth, now a walking legend, the mere claim of one being this man would either earn fearful admiration or a duel to the death. There are some who don’t believe in his existence. Some consider him a nickname used by outlaws, and there are also those who think that it’s a group that calls each other Alonzo West. The thing is, no one seems to know who this man is or what he looks like. Well, no one but me

On the day he shot down my father, I had a good look at his face. His shallow brown eyes, his sharp but small nose, and his bow-shaped lips We exchanged a long and silent stare. Some say a picture may convey a thousand words, but our exchange left us with more than that. Even though it was our first time seeing each other, we somehow understood each other better than anyone else. My father’s six shooter was right beside me, but it was of no use. I was afraid. I could only stand there like a mannequin and stare. I kept on staring, even when he started to drag my father away. "Do what you have to do to keep on living, son." My father’s words echoed as he started to disappear over the horizon.

Each of the men there made a mistake that day. My father’s was his stubbornness in keeping his honor. Alonzo’s was not shooting me dead, and mine was hiding my cowardice through the excuse that was the wise words of my father.

After that, I struggled and found myself traveling the land to hunt the next no-good-doer that was wanted by the law. I’m certain that my father would disagree with this way of making a living, but I am not going to make the same mistakes he did.

At the end of the day, what is the point? We think, we plan, and we act all for the sake of survival. Breaking it down even further would make it seem even more pathetic, as it is for the sake of food and drinks that we struggle. And what for? To live another day just to struggle again to consume, shit, and repeat it over and over again? What then is the point in hesitating on the ways one can obtain such things?

I don’t know. I know I am not the smartest, but I certainly can’t be the only one who sees things this way. Nevertheless, there is one thing that is clear. It’ll certainly make me feel better once I put that man in the ground.

I have left trails of dust and impostors wherever I go. I can’t recall the last time I was home to visit my parents. I certainly wish to, but perhaps only after I find him. I’m sorry, Pa. I promise you that it won’t take too long. I’ll be back home soon.

That man is only a few miles away. He can’t be anywhere else but Greyhill. As I strode into town, I felt tens, if not hundreds, of pairs of curious eyes directed toward me. Eventually, their whispers stopped being whispers when they noticed the big iron on my hip.

This unwanted attention didn’t go away when I entered the town’s saloon. The sound of my footsteps was all that was heard in that crooked saloon.

Welcome, sir. A drink or a chat? Either way, it will cost you ten cents."

"Now why would a few friendly words cost me ten cents?"

Because, sir, those friendly words could be valuable to you. And where there is value, there is also profit to be made. So, which is it?"

Both," I said as I handed him the coins.

I left the saloon as quickly as I had entered. I didn’t need to learn much. All I needed to know was where he lived, but while I was leaving, I heard the saloon man say:

"Don’t worry, the people of this town will empty the streets upon the commencement of the duel. Drinks will be on me if you do get to see tomorrow’s daylight."

I don’t think I will be getting that drink from him anytime soon. There is no point in being honorable to those who aren’t, especially when my life is on the line.

He was working in his field when I found him. I was on the top of a hill, and I started to prepare myself. One pull was all it took to take down this legend now, but before I could do it, a young lad walked in front of him.

I kept my rifle on him and waited for the perfect shot. A minute passes by, two minutes, and eventually five. At the end of that five-minute mark, I made a decision. I discarded the rifle and walked towards the man.

He only saw me coming when I was only twenty paces from him. We stared at each other. And we both knew who the other was. He tried to pull out his revolver, but his holster was empty. Alonzo closed his eyes and told the boy to go inside.

The boy took a few steps towards the house before turning back to look at us. Upon doing so, a shot was heard, and the boy fell to the ground. Alonzo, someone who never seemed to cry in his whole life, cried out loud before another shot was heard.

Three mistakes were made the day my father was murdered. I wasn’t going to allow any of them happen again.