Beyond the canyon

The canyon angled upwards  opening into a trail through ponderosa pine  and Douglas fir.  Hemlock was there too.  He stopped by a fast running creek dismounting Sadie and letting the horses drink then munch the green grass that grew there.  He emptied his canteen and filled it with the fresh near freezing water that tasted so refreshing. He sat on a log and considered his course of direction from here.

Following this path he’d arrive at either a logging camp or mining town he’d been told were up this way.  Maybe in one of these he’d find the outlaw he was looking for.  The man who’d gut shot his brother.  He didn’t like the idea of revenge. Decidedly Un Christian but he’d learned his brother had turned his cheek 70 times 70 for all of them and now he was dead.  He didn’t think more cheek turning would stop the outlaw’s  rampage.  He’d keep killing people as long as it suited him unless someone stopped him. 

The law, whatever there was here, was unlikely to do that.  Judgement is the Lord’s was what he believed but also that the Lord used people to do his will.  At this moment he felt the Lord had chosen him.  An eye for an eye was Old Testament and he thought of himself as more New Testament.  Jesus taught love and faith but he didn’t think that Jesus would object to him casting out this particular demon with a slug from a colt 45. He’d aim for the heart despite it being an obviously tiny target.  His brother had suffered and if he wasn’t a Christian he might too plan to shoot him there or below the belt.  A heart shot would do though.  But in the heat of a gun battle one couldn’t be sure.

Topping up his canteen , he gathered his horses and mounting headed up the trail watching Sadie for any change.  He kept his head on a swivel but trusted her to smell anything or anyone. He wondered if the outlaws knew him but figured them more likely bandits, robbers hoping to kill for profit, having no conscience or trade but killing for a livelihood, lazy low down men..  

The pistols and rifles were well cared for, certainly better than the two men’s clothing. Their horses were also good mounts, the saddles well worn, but good.  He’d sell off the horses and guns when he could. He had all he needed with Sadie, his rifle, the colt and the derringer he’d taken off a man he’d shot who had thought to kill him with it.  

He passed a field of yellow flowers and watched a couple of black and white magpies flying there. .  A marmot looked out from the rocks to see who was passing, standing stright up before scurrying back into it’s hidey hole.

Up ahead he saw smoke rising from several houses. Closer he decided this must be the mining town.  He could see that this was more sizeable than a logging camp would be. It was big enough there might even be law of some sort.  

He tied his horses up at the hitching post in front of the lone saloon. In side the cool log building there were a few tables and chairs, a couple with customers and a bar with large bearded man standing cleaning a glass.  

He walked up to the bar and was asked by the  bar tender ,  “would you be wanting a drink?’ He had a brogue accent. 

“I would, a beer if you please,’ he answered.

Sipping the beer he wandered over to a table where he could  sit with his back to the wall  watch the door. He knew in time someone would approach him. Waiting now he’d learn more of what he needed to know than by initiating conversation.