Since the hanging, Macy Ludlow has been frequenting saloons. Keen watchers could easily see that, though she lets cowboys buy her beverages, she imbibes just enough to redden her cheeks \u2013 but no one ever notices her lithe hands dump steins onto sticky hickory floorboards. They\u2019re too entranced by her rouge-tinted lips and amiable chatter. Though wealthy (through marriage), Macy was never like the others in Abilene\u2019s church-crowd \u2013 she knows the names of her late husband\u2019s riders and lets anyone dine at her table \u2013 and had been innocently pure, so her new coquettishness interests all. Even the gruffest bachelors, who\u2019ve swore off women and never stay in place for too long, put on their newest digs hoping to catch her eye; this childless beauty is set to inherit Kansas\u2019 largest cattle outfit and would free them from their laborious lives. But, though Macy gallivants around handing out rounds and rounds of liquor, she doesn\u2019t pick one admirer \u2013 which only arouses more advances. After her first night out, her landowning neighbors\u2019 wives had called on her but, unable to deter her nighttime revelry, they now declare that the devil\u2019s ahold of poor Macy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But reason guides Macy\u2019s actions and, thirteen days after her husband was taken from their bed and strung up in the square, a stranger in all-black rides into Abilene past midnight on a snowy horse. A wide-brimmed black hat hides this lean man\u2019s features, though no one\u2019s around to witness him enter Abilene\u2019s seediest inn; anyone up is courting Macy. From his room he hears the drunken rioting but, beat from his journey, he sleeps at once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The next morning, in a forgettable fit of denim and his charcoal-black hat, the stranger calls the innkeeper to his table: \u201cWhat was that ruckus?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAh,\u201d the innkeeper refills his coffee mug. \u201cLudlow\u2019s widow\u2019s on the prowl.\u201d He pauses to study his guest once he discerns the man\u2019s confusion. As the last stop on the Chisholm Trail and the base of a major railroad uniting America\u2019s coastlines, Abilene\u2019s used to dodgy people but when the stranger had rode in on an exhausted steed and bought a room for one night, the innkeeper\u2019d assumed he was bland. He looks no older than thirty but, despite that, the innkeeper suppresses a flinch, for this tanned frontiersman\u2019s brown eyes have the weary wisdom of a killer. \u201cWhat brought ya? Scouts say we ain\u2019t set to git a run fer \u2018nother week.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJust ridin\u2019 through.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhere ya headed?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cEast.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou?\u201d Snorting, the innkeeper waves his calloused hand at the shiny guns in the stranger\u2019s well-worn black holsters. \u201cHell, you\u2019d fit in there like a tenderfoot roping a mustang. Who\u2019d you go and rile up?\u201d The man\u2019s subsequent scowl chills the innkeeper, who hurriedly backtracks. \u201cI\u2019m only ridin\u2019 you! I can point you to the station but, if you\u2019re gonna linger, you need to savvy Abilene \u2018cause we ain\u2019t like the gunslingin\u2019 hellhole I reckon you got run outta.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Pausing to make sure he\u2019s not gonna get shot, he\u2019s stunned speechless as the stranger, upon pondering, extracts two tenners from a thick billfold: five times the cost of his room. \u201cMind givin\u2019 me the lowdown?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Though incredulous, the innkeeper pockets the cash and launches into a monologue. \u201cWell, this here\u2019s flat country where beef trails end and cattle get slaughtered or shipped to peckish Yanks. Ain\u2019t a soul can scratch outta livin\u2019 for hisself, neither. Everyone works for the Graces, the Hewitts, or the Ludlows. Each o\u2019 them outfits got \u2018nough land to fit millions o\u2019 heads and hire top shooters to guard their just-bought stock. They butcher faster\u2019n the famous Texas Jack draws! Ol\u2019 Grace was a mountain of a feller, but his heart gave out year last. His sons cashed out to the Hewitts. The Hewitt\u2019s granddaddy had twelve young\u2019uns and them bred like jackrabbits in spring, but don\u2019t let them fool ya. Them countless cousins shore as hell ain\u2019t folks you wanna cross.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd the Ludlows?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cElder Ludlow\u2019s strong as an ox and owns more land\u2019n the Graces or Hewitts, \u2018cludin\u2019 this inn. When times are hard, he lets me off on credit. Fair fella. But \u2018bout a month back a mean Hewitt who goes by name of Loco Lester caught Ludlow\u2019s boy rustlin\u2019 cattle to his pa\u2019s range. Loco took the matter to court and \u2018fore long Little Ludlow was a-swingin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The stranger sets down his ceramic mug with a clang. \u201cJon Ludlow? Hung?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYup.\u201d The innkeeper\u2019s lips purse at his guest\u2019s shock, but he keeps on. \u201cLudlow only ever had the one. When his missus passed years ago, he retired \u2018n left everythin\u2019 to Little Ludlow. Truth be told, thet boy was doin\u2019 a fine job runnin\u2019 things, but Loco Lester found Little Ludlow\u2019s gun on Hewitt land and even Ludlow\u2019s riders said they seen him at night reekin\u2019 of cow. \u2018Tis a shame, fer he was a straight shooter and now his widow Macy\u2019s drinkin\u2019 herself blind. I hear Ol\u2019 Ludlow\u2019s fixin\u2019 to boot her \u2018n I reckon when he does she\u2019ll turn Hewitt, for she near got hitched to Loco way back when. He and Little Ludlow drew iron over it, if memory serves.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The stranger thanks the innkeeper, downs his coffee, and overpays for his room. He fastens his pack to his horse, smears mud on its vivacious pearl-colored coat to turn it brown, and asks a nearby saloonkeeper for directions to Ludlow\u2019s estate. Heading west, he promptly spots a massive three-floor house and four brick factories. Pointing his dirty mare at the complex, he finds himself trotting alongside a sturdy fence. The fence\u2019s gate, yards ahead, is bordered by lounging cowboys who, as he approaches, call out leeringly:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cReckon yor ride\u2019d gag a maggot!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cKnow how to use those shiny guns, hombre?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat business you got with them Ludlows?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The stranger ignores them. As he moves through the gate, he notes their matching mousy-brown hair and well-bred steeds; though hardworking cattlemen, they\u2019re kicking back outside the Ludlow\u2019s domain waiting for something or, the man soliloquizes, someone \u2013 like the dainty blonde on the house\u2019s porch. Her ankle-length cotton dress and shawl (meant for cooler weather) make her seem meek, but her bright blue eyes stare him down with predatorial poise as he advances.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When he slows his mare but doesn\u2019t dismount, she crosses her arms. \u201cWhat\u2019s yor name?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou outta know better\u2019n to ask a cowboy that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her eyebrows meet as she dissects him: the patches of fabric used to mend his denim pants, the muscles badly concealed by his long-sleeved copper-toned shirt, the black hat hiding his brunet curls but not his sun-weathered skin and knowing avian eyes which are as dark as dusk, the content horse beneath his wiry torso who looks like she just wrestled a bull, and the guns on his hips. Then, at last, she nears him. She wipes muck off his horse\u2019s snout with her pristine shawl, revealing her chalk-colored pelt, and she smiles. \u201cJon said a black cowboy would come on a white horse.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He tries not to focus on her logic-defying floral scent. \u201cDidn\u2019t want \u2018er spookin\u2019 the fellers at yor gate.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She snorts. \u201cYou\u2019re welcome to scare \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh? \u2018Ssumed they were welcome. Herd yore lookin\u2019 to replace yor thievein\u2019 husband.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her amusement evaporates. \u201cMy husband was no thief!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He blinks, not expecting her ardor, before hopping off his horse. \u201cI know. Wish I\u2019d heard\u2019a Jon\u2019s charges while he was breathin\u2019, or least got here to see him laid to rest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Silence ensues before Macy takes his reins and leads the mare to a pasture behind her house that already holds a strong black stallion. The stallion nickers but doesn\u2019t hassle the majestic mare, who instantly starts grazing as the humans set off. The stranger follows Macy as she walks around hundreds of overfed cows about to be killed or shipped (the fields have to be empty when the next run arrives) to a patch of dirt marked by a sandstone. Her throat convulses as she stops beside the grave, but she doesn\u2019t crumble beneath her grief and instead faces the stranger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Beckoned, he removes his hat and stands with her. They stare at white flowers and a sandy rock, their minds claimed by memories they wish were reality, until at last he pulls a bullet out of his pocket and places it next to the petals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Macy laughs. \u201cYou meant\u2019a kill him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYor husband swore if we crossed paths \u2018gain he\u2019d put me in the ground. Took that outta his gun.\u201d Facing Macy, the stranger finds himself fascinated; wearing her grief like a cattle\u2019s brand, she\u2019s not the hussy the innkeeper\u2019d portrayed. \u201cJon once came down to Texas to check on his pa\u2019s partner who oughtta send word of stock goin\u2019 North but was skimmin\u2019 profit. He was usin\u2019 a fake name aimin\u2019 to sniff out the truth quiet-like, but soon as he stepped into a saloon he got into a fight. Yor husband lost but held his own and afterwards I bought him a drink. We had no clue who the other was \u2018n he was green as Sam\u2019s bills but we took to each other right quick. We were pals \u2018til, well, ain\u2019t no sense borin\u2019 you\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTell me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They stared at each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI need to know why Jon spoke of you when he died.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She crosses her arms. \u201cWhat do you do for a livin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnything, for the right price.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cJon must\u2019ve hated that.\u201d Macy laughs sadly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe shore was righteous.\u201d The stranger nods. \u201cThe fight he got into, thet feller was as large as a burro and could\u2019ve knocked him dead, but he didn\u2019t bolt. I admire anyone willin\u2019 to die for their morals. I helped out with his crooked cattleman and as he was leavin\u2019 he came \u2018round to see if I\u2019d be his pa\u2019s new Texan foreman and learnt who I was. He called me a coward \u2018n I made him hurt for sayin\u2019 that but \u2018stead of fightin\u2019 back, Jon staggered to his feet and gave me that slug. He swore if we met \u2018gain \u2018n I was still stealin\u2019 he\u2019d lick me proper.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd? Are you still stealin\u2019?\u201d The stranger doesn\u2019t answer, but her ocean-blue eyes narrow. \u201cYou aren\u2019t here fer Jon, are ya? You didn\u2019t know \u2018bout his charges.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI got in some trouble back home and had to split. You needn\u2019t worry \u2018bout the particulars. Figured I\u2019d drift somewhere not a soul knows me, mebbe go East. Start fresh.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo it\u2019s just lucky you\u2019re here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAin\u2019t nothin\u2019 in life left to luck.\u201d Shaking his scalp like a wet dog getting dry, he puts his hat back on. \u201cBut you ain\u2019t Jon. I reckon yore the sorta gal who don\u2019t mind what path I\u2019m walkin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFollow me.\u201d With a final look at the grave, she leads him into the house. Men dressed for toil like the cowboys at Ludlow\u2019s border are resting in the entrance hall. They jump up from comfy couches as Macy strolls in. She ignores them, so he does too, and soon enough they\u2019re alone in a study. She points to the larger desk, but approaches the smaller one. \u201cThat\u2019s where I work.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou work?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI balance the books: make shore we can buy and sell and make a profit. I met Jon workin\u2019 for his pa.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey trust a woman with their business?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhy wouldn\u2019t they?\u201d As they stop by Jon\u2019s desk, Macy glares at him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The desk holds only one sheet of paper. The stranger, not minding Macy\u2019s fury, picks it up and unfolds it. \u201cI ain\u2019t meant\u2019a insult you. I\u2019m just surprised folks as prosperous as them would take any mind to a woman\u2019s worth.\u201d It\u2019s a letter:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They say I was caught, that my gun was in the wrong place, which is true: the Hewitts, led by Loco Lester (who you\u2019ll know by the scar I gave him when he tried to run off with my girl), found me at their slaughterhouse and planted my gun. I dyed my cattles\u2019 feet and tracked em there. After how it\u2019s rumored they murdered Rupert Grace and scared his sons into selling, it\u2019s no wonder they want to get rid of me publicly. I\u2019m happy you came. Macy\u2019s an angel on earth but she\u2019s no warrior and a fight will come if it hasn\u2019t already. I told her to never be alone, so Abilene will know if she\u2019s kidnapped, but she can only fend Loco off for so long. I wish you luck, on this and onwards, for the Hewitts will run you off the Chisholm Trail for what you\u2019re boutta do. But if you came, there shore is good in you \u2013 like I knew all along!<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Jon Ludlow<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The stranger crumples the note up. Though his countenance darkens, he regards the woman beside him sympathetically. \u201cMa\u2019am, you won\u2019t like what I aim to do\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEven if I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI prayed for you. Even Jon\u2019s pa didn\u2019t believe in him. He\u2019s promised his riders bonuses if they get me to marry Lester.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The stranger frowns. \u201cLoco already proposed?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAt the funeral. He ain\u2019t even wait.\u201d The stranger\u2019s hands move to his guns, but he doesn\u2019t go exact justice like he yearns to. \u201cAin\u2019t the first time neither. When I started workin\u2019 fer the Ludlows, he carried me off. If not fer Jon I\u2019d be a Hewitt.\u201d Macy\u2019s eyes zero in on this picture of his bloodlust but after a breath she nods. \u201cHelp me. Please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n So the stranger checks back into the inn, much to the innkeeper\u2019s interest. He scrubs down his horse, throws a blanket over her, and heads to a saloon. He eats dinner beside rowdy cowmen wanting to learn his story, which he doesn\u2019t tell, and as he\u2019s finishing everyone sprints across the street; he glimpses Macy\u2019s flaxen hair as she\u2019s engulfed by a manly mob.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Leaving the men to their wooing, he returns to his room and changes into his leather-black duds. Then, back outside the saloon, he unties a docile-seeming auburn horse from a post. He rides to Ludlow\u2019s with his torso pressed against the horse\u2019s flank so he\u2019s not seen. He figured the outer cowboys were the innumerable Hewitts and sure enough the only riders he finds are the ones who\u2019d been in the house; he recognizes the getups of the men sprawled out on the porch in front of a fire and, knowing they would\u2019ve noted his coming, he dismounts and, with a thump, sends the stolen steed onwards. As their dialog restarts (once they see what they think is a wild horse go by), he soundlessly scales the gate and crawls forwards on his hands and knees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cJest a horse. Thought thet was that feller Miss Macy brought to \u2018er office.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNah, he checked outta town. Reckon he tried to sweet-talk \u2018er like the rest of \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cFool.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHell, I wouldn\u2019t mind takin\u2019 my chances.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOh, c\u2019mon!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShe wouldn\u2019t look twice at yor sour mug!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNow hold awn, I take offense to that there\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHey!\u201d The stranger had slithered to the house\u2019s side and hunkered down by a prickly bush but, with his face against Earth, he\u2019s unable to see the man who just barked. He can, however, feel tremors as what he guesses are ten galloping mounts near the fire, which makes him frown; these callers don\u2019t mind being seen on Ludlow land at night. \u201cWe found a horse with a saddle!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe saw it come up.\u201d One of Ludlow\u2019s cowboys spits. \u201cSwore it had no rider.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cA drunken cowboy must\u2019ve forgot to hobble it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cKeep yor voices down!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhy?\u201d The low-toned male who interrupts the cowboys\u2019 bickering sounds more polished than the others, who quiet abruptly; the stranger knows at once he\u2019s in charge. \u201cEveryone but Ol\u2019 Ludlow is with Macy \u2018n he ain\u2019t got any strength left. Now, can we git?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShore thing, Loco. The boys\u2019ll direct ya. I\u2019ll stay here and holler if anyone comes. See ya tomorrow too?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Clinks accompany Loco\u2019s drawling threat. \u201c\u2018Less you go back on our deal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWouldn\u2019t dream of it! Get a move on, y\u2019all!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The stranger waits until he can\u2019t feel horse movements to lift his head. The man who stayed behind has his head down as he rolls up a smoke, so the stranger runs after the others unseen. Their tracks are as wide as a lane so, though they got a head start, the stranger easily finds them outside the brick factory closest to the house. They\u2019re yelling to be heard over the din of screaming cows about to be processed:<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2014in there\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2014\u2018n we cut off the alarm \u2018n sent home the others so you oughtta have no problems\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201c\u2014so just get \u2018em goin\u2019! They\u2019ll do the work fer ya!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSame as last time!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The men disperse: some head inside and start whooping to round up the cattle while others, who the stranger tracks, round the factory and raze its back wall with hammers. Soon as they open the building, beeves pour into dim fields. The cowboys expertly guide them off. Instead of chasing them, the stranger sneaks into the factory and tackles a calf. Thanks to the general ruckus, no one sees him slice open his palm and coat the creature\u2019s hooves in blood. Tearing fabric off his sleeve, he wraps his wound (so sanguine droplets don\u2019t expose him) and hides in hay.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The stranger waits until the giant factory is eerily silent to emerge. He ropes Macy\u2019s black horse and follows red tracks for miles. The stranger can\u2019t study his dark surroundings but, knowing he\u2019s moving away from Abilene across flat land, he rides hard; come morning, he\u2019ll be found. Eventually, his panting horse slows. He coaxes the tired stallion to follow the calf\u2019s bloody steps to a locked gate attached to a seemingly endless wire fence. Knowing he can\u2019t cajole an unfamiliar horse to jump, he dismounts and, by hand, unearths the gate\u2019s posts. The gate could fit five cows side-by-side \u2013 thus its destruction would be detected at first light; this thought troubles the stranger, but he doesn\u2019t slow. Entering Hewitt land, it doesn\u2019t take him long to hear pleading livestock. It\u2019s rare for men like him who move cattle to see their work\u2019s results and he sickens at the thought of the millions he\u2019s brought to this sobbing end \u2013 but, staunch, he strains his ears. Unlike the Ludlow\u2019s factory, these yelps are being cut short and, as he sees gleeful men smoking in the front of a brick plant, he realizes Ludlow\u2019s stock is being murdered before anyone realizes it\u2019s missing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The stranger hobbles Macy\u2019s horse. Eyeing the ecstatic rustlers, he thinks. He can\u2019t sneak off and accuse them tomorrow \u2013 he couldn\u2019t repair the gate that quickly and this medley of Hewitt and Ludlow riders would overwhelm any court \u2013 and he briefly considers hiding behind a haystack and picking them off like they\u2019re grazing turkeys, but then he remembers Jon: as honest as the day is long. Jon tracked these men with red too but he confronted them and, though the stranger knows better than to do that, he rejects his savagery and stares at the men until he cooks up a way to defeat them, if not legally, then eternally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then, like a rattler, the stranger slinks onwards. A horse snorts as he passes, but no humans shout; they\u2019re too arrogant to watch for an invader. As he sneaks around the building, he pops his head up every so often and sees cattle streaming into chutes that lead to a duo on a platform with mallets they\u2019re regularly smashing into skulls. This factory\u2019s back is as feeble as Ludlow\u2019s \u2013 these moguls don\u2019t expect rustlers or care about the resilience of buildings they often rebuild \u2013 so it takes mere minutes for him to dislodge enough bricks to free the stolen herd. The cattle frantically flee into the fields.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As the cowboys inside call out, the stranger pulls a lighter from his pocket and alights some of the haystacks littered around the land for feed. Thanks to a breeze, the fire swiftly expands onto the parched grass and grows into something so ruinous that Abilene\u2019s males will be forced to leave Macy to quell it \u2013 only to find Ludlow-branded cattle on Hewitt land.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The flames illuminate the flanks of sprinting, spitting cows, but also the stranger, and he\u2019s promptly shot at. He gets to Macy\u2019s horse untouched and, lowering the brim of his hat, runs off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n ~<\/p>\n\n\n\n The next morning, the innkeeper hands the stranger a plate of eggs and slabs of salty ham. \u201cYou hear \u2018bout the fire?\u201d The stranger picks up a fork and starts eating as the innkeeper continues. \u201cSomeone went \u2018n blew up a Hewitt canner last night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He swallows. \u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNo one knows but, well,\u201d the innkeeper leans forwards. \u201cAs the water wagons was fightin\u2019 the flames, they seen Ludlow cattle runnin\u2019 wild! Looked mighty sketchy, but Sheriff came right out and found a stretch of the Ludlow\/Hewitt fence busted clean through. He booked the Hewitts fer butchering what ain\u2019t theirs but they swore they ain\u2019t notice the mixed herds and they wouldn\u2019t burn their own shop, so he finally made \u2018em pay fer what they killed and let \u2018em go.\u201d The innkeeper pauses; the denim-clad outsider sets down his fork and looks up. \u201cWhere were you last night?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSleepin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n As soon as his fierce brown-eyed gaze sets on the innkeeper, he regrets probing but, having begun, carries on. \u201cI herd you seen Macy. Figured you would\u2019ve gone to flirt with \u2018er more.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou seen my horse, ain\u2019t you? Girl never left the stables.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShore, thet beauty grazed the whole night.\u201d As the innkeeper backtracks, his voice speeds up as his nerves overtake his mouth. \u201cI told them that, who came askin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWho came askin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell, Sheriff stopped by \u2018bout an hour ago. He overheard the Hewitts in jail talkin\u2019 \u2018bout a horse they seen run by thet had a saddle but no man and was seein\u2019 if any of my guests were the sort to ride alone. \u2018N Loco came by last night, fresh outta jail over them cattle, \u2018n asked \u2018bout you. I told him same thing I told Sheriff, that pretty horse o\u2019 yors ain\u2019t move from sundown to sunup, but still, I figured I\u2019d best ask you meeself. You fixin\u2019 to leave today?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMebbe. I don\u2019t mind this town.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cStill as a graveyard.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWait \u2018til next week when a drive comes in. My rooms\u2019ll be packed tighter\u2019n a cattle pen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The stranger gulps down the last of his breakfast and takes three tens out of his jacket. The innkeeper gapes, as he did yesterday, at the abundance and dips his head, as he did yesterday, when the stranger hands it to him. \u201cThink I\u2019ll stay for a day or two more.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou shore are welcome to stay as long as you like.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cMuch obliged.\u201d Standing, the stranger dons his black hat and goes outside. He doesn\u2019t get far down Abilene\u2019s main street before he hears shrill whistles and, when he looks around and spots six brown-haired men nearing him, he smiles. They range from balding to pimpled, but the stranger focuses on the shortest one; this scowling bloke, with a mean-looking scar bisecting his nose and splitting his lip, is the only one touching his pistol. The stranger\u2019s instincts scream at him to draw and not give the identical Hewitts a chance to hurt him, but he knows joy will unnerve them more than anger, so he widens his smile into a beam. \u201cFigured I\u2019d see you today, Loco.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The scarred man scoffs. \u201cDid you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n His happiness dies off quick as a wink. \u201cYou ain\u2019t strike me as the sort to dilly dally.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Loco seems unsure of how to take the blunt statement, but after a few breaths of him staring down this black-haired stranger in a denim fit which fits fine but looks wrong when partnered with his hat and holsters, he sneers. \u201cThink it\u2019s best you come with us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTo our ranch. We\u2019ve got some things to talk out.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAlright. Lemme git my horse.\u201d The stranger is flanked \u2013 two men behind him, two beside him including Loco, and two ahead of him \u2013 on the way to the inn\u2019s stables. He moves nimbly into his pale mare\u2019s saddle and is soon surrounded by horses once more, which makes the pale creature neigh unhappily. As they set off, the stranger pats her mane to assuage her claustrophobia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThet\u2019s a fine horse.\u201d Loco speaks. \u201cWhere\u2019d you get her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTook \u2018er from someone who ain\u2019t need \u2018er no more.\u201d The innkeeper rushes into the street, but the stranger turns and shakes his head, so he returns to his morning without raising any alarm. Other onlookers eye their procession, but no one defends the aloof stranger who\u2019s made no friends since he\u2019s been in Kansas \u2013 not when faced with the deadly Hewitts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ve only herd tale of Texas Jack havin\u2019 a mare that white.\u201d Another man mumbles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThey say his is white as a cloud.\u201d Loco adds. \u201cYors ain\u2019t far off.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The stranger doesn\u2019t respond but Loco, never one to thrive in silence, doesn\u2019t let him brood for long. \u201cWhat\u2019s yor name?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat\u2019s yors?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou already used my name, partner.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI shore did, but a name\u2019s story\u2019s as important as the name.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWell, when I was young I went a bit loco fer a pretty little girl who had eyes bluer \u2018n water \u2018n smelled of flowers. She didn\u2019t like me much, but the ones who fight taste sweetest! I finally had \u2018er in my arms cryin\u2019 fer God \u2018n a hombre ridin\u2019 by decided to play hero. He weren\u2019t man \u2018nough to challenge me \u2018n came at me with a blade \u2018n my back turned.\u201d As they trot on, the stranger studies Ludlow\u2019s ranch where dozens of riders are running about conjuring clouds. He wonders if it was Macy or Ol\u2019 Ludlow who had the prudence to do a round-up to see what they lost \u2013 and remembers how the cowboys\u2019d mentioned other times they\u2019d raided the factories; there\u2019ll finally be proof of rustling once they\u2019re done, like Jon wanted all along. \u201cLeft me with a scar nastier\u2019n an unwashed drunk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cJon told thet story different.\u201d The men in front whirl around in their saddles as the stranger turns his gaze to Loco, whose jaw clenches. \u201cSaid thet since you was treatin\u2019 Macy like cattle you earned yoreself a brand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n One of the frontmen pipes up. \u201cLittle Ludlow\u2019s name ain\u2019t often used in these parts.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI ain\u2019t make his acquaintance in these parts. We met in Dodge.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIn Texas?\u201d Loco snorts as their caravan veers right and heads towards a wire-coated fence that the stranger remembers from last night. \u201cLittle Ludlow went thet far South?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYears back.\u201d Moving through a spiky gate into Hewitt land, they pass a phalanx of brunets with loaded rifles and murderous scowls. Ignoring them, the stranger watches his scarred foe \u2013 for that\u2019s the Hewitt who\u2019ll decide his fate. \u201cIt was the first time Jon\u2019s pa put him in charge \u2018n he was a tenderfoot \u2018n trusted the first feller he met. I reckon you\u2019d fare better down there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cEven when yore praisin\u2019 me it sounds like insultin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTake my talk how you like.\u201d The others peel off and hang back with their kin by the gate, no longer expecting the stranger to run since he\u2019s penned in. Loco turns left. The stranger follows him past six brick factories. The furthest building is the only one that isn\u2019t screeching and is black with soot. They stop next to it. Internally, the stranger admires his handiwork; the copper building didn\u2019t collapse (so no cattle were unnecessarily hurt), but the chutes look like giants used them as toothpicks and the ground\u2019s as lifelessly grey as a twilight cemetery. \u201cShore is a mess.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cShore is, \u2018n done by one man too. Had a hat jest like yors.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou \u2018ccusin\u2019 me of something?\u201d The stranger turns toward Loco. Their hands don\u2019t move, but a practiced eye would see them quaking with energy that would burst if the other went to arm himself. \u201cIt ain\u2019t smart to make an enemy of a stranger.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI gave you many chances not to be a stranger. I been honest. I asked fer yer name\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou ain\u2019t been honest.\u201d Loco\u2019s eyes narrow as the stranger continues. \u201c\u2018Cause you know Jon was once seen \u2018round Dodge. He went \u2018n roped the wrong calf there, \u2018n yore a smart \u2018nough feller to hear \u2018bout that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The scarred man frowns, but then guffaws. \u201cYore talkin\u2019 \u2018bout Little Ludlow handin\u2019 Texas Jack a bullet? Thet story\u2019s got more holes than a screen door! I bet thet outlaw\u2019s made-up, besides, with his horse from Heaven \u2018n his garments from Hell. Texans surely use him as an excuse \u2013 fore you can\u2019t arrest someone who don\u2019t exist.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou ain\u2019t wrong. Lots of them stories are just thet, stories. Have you herd the one \u2018bout his mare?\u201d The stranger waits for Loco\u2019s mouth to open to go on. \u201cHe calls her Luna,\u201d under him, his mare snorts. \u201cOn \u2018ccount of \u2018er pelt. A feller he sold cattle to sold \u2018em to a traveler \u2018n told him they got stolen. The feller split, but Texas Jack tracked him to a San Antonio brothel, hauled him outside with his pecker still out, and scalped him: showin\u2019 thet anyone who offends Texas Jack gets got. The feller\u2019s mare charged him once he was done \u2018n he was nearly bucked. He shot at her, but she was too quick fer even his lightnin\u2019-fast gun.\u201d Last night as the stranger\u2019d galloped off, the sunset-hued flames would\u2019ve disfigured his black-encased figure and his horse hadn\u2019t been ghostly white, but Loco\u2019s eyes widen as he puts two and two together. \u201cIt took days to track \u2018er \u2018n win \u2018er over, but he ain\u2019t been seen without Luna since. People say that mare\u2019s the only creature he shows any kindness to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The shrieks of steers being massacred fills the silence until Loco speaks. The cowboy isn\u2019t as cool as he was before, but his eyes still gleam \u2013 and the stranger gets why, for a yell would bring a brown-haired army to his side. \u201cYor quarrel ain\u2019t with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYor quarrel ain\u2019t with me neither.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThen ride off. No Hewitt will harm you. You have my word.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYor word ain\u2019t mean much, Loco. Ain\u2019t you lied to the law? With yor cousins \u2018n Ludlow\u2019s traitors, even Ol\u2019 Ludlow thought his son stole.\u201d Jack recalls when, years ago, Jon burst in on him telling his riders about a wagonful of army wages heading through Dodge he wanted to swipe. Jon had stormed up to the larger man and berated him, which made one of Jack\u2019s men laugh: Yer lettin\u2019 this little feller squawk at ya, Texas Jack?<\/em> Instead of being scared, the foolhardy heir had doubled down and, after Jack beat him, had lobbed him a bullet: Yor heart\u2019s as gold as a Spanish Armada \u2018n yore the finest shot I ever seen, but yore livin\u2019 a coward\u2019s life! Yore better than this, Texas Jack, \u2018n if I see you \u2018gain \u2018n you\u2019re still wastin\u2019 away, I\u2019ll put that in yor chest!<\/em> As a renowned gunslinger known from Montana\u2019s forested peaks to New York\u2019s skyscrapers, Texas Jack has heard his share of insults, but he\u2019d never been so affected by words \u2013 and it took him years to realize it was because Jon was right; hiding behind an angelic horse and guns, Jack was a coward. He was smart, but he\u2019d never gotten anywhere in life without causing pain. \u201cJon was the only man to ever see good in me. He was the salt o\u2019 the Earth, \u2018n you\u2019ve made everyone think otherwise.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo you came to avenge him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThree weeks ago some sheriffs down South got their heads together \u2018n tried to reason out where I rest my head. They rounded up some men who used to ride fer me \u2018n one turncoated. They ambushed me \u2018fore I knew I was bein\u2019 hunted. I would\u2019ve died if not fer Luna hearin\u2019 \u2018em. Most gunslingers who call it quits buy a place away from anyone else where they only need their own two hands, but I\u2019ll be chased \u2018til I\u2019m dead, so I\u2019m goin\u2019 to the last place anyone thinks Texas Jack would go: East. I came to Abilene fer the railroad, though I\u2019m shore Jon\u2019s spirit is happy I stopped by.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYou know how peaceful Jon was?\u201d Loco again tries to appeal to him. \u201cHis spirit wouldn\u2019t want you to spill blood.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBut I ain\u2019t here for him. I\u2019m here fer Macy. She asked fer my help.\u201d Jack can see in Loco\u2019s hastening breathing that he knows arguing is futile, but he gives the scarred man a chance. Seconds later when he goes for his pistol, Jack\u2019s guns go off. Luna takes off as the bullets land, sprinting into Hewitt land, and Jack turns around. He aims for the others\u2019 legs and sees some of them fall but, knowing every Hewitt will soon be chomping at the bit for his demise, he spurs Luna. She\u2019s quick enough for every shot meant for Jack to land short, but Kansas is too flat for him to feel safe \u2013 for he can always see someone on the horizon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It isn\u2019t until the sun sets that he guides Luna to the fence dividing the Hewitts and Ludlows\u2019 land. The mare readily jumps it and, once he sets a course for town, Jack sighs. Looking up at the darkening sky, he promises whoever\u2019s up there that Loco Lester Hewitt will be the last creature he\u2019ll kill \u2013 even if that means his own death. Luna snorts loud enough for him to notice and, when he looks down, he realizes she\u2019s gone to Jon\u2019s grave. He stares at the sandstone headstone, wishing he\u2019d come while Jon was alive, before insisting there\u2019s still time to prove him right; if he makes it out of Abilene, he\u2019ll somehow even the scale on the hundreds of thousands of fatalities he\u2019s caused: animal and human.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As he turns Luna towards town, he notices a bundle atop the grave. He gets off Luna and, as he squats, his nose fills with Macy\u2019s floral scent. He speedily unpacks her gift and finds a linen suit, collared shirt, dress shoes, tie and felt bowler hat. All but the shirt, which is the blue of a clear afternoon, is gravelly grey and, after goggling the dress for minutes, Jack dons it. He folds his old clothes and places them, along with his guns and hat, by Jon\u2019s bullet. Then, he turns to Luna and brushes her mane. Mournfully whining, she doesn\u2019t move \u2013 for she\u2019ll stand with him long as he lets her \u2013 but time isn\u2019t infinite and at last he squeezes his feet into too-small dress shoes, tucks in his shirt, and walks on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Looking like an Easterner, no one in Abilene pays him any mind: not the brunets lingering by the inn or the bald man with a sheriff\u2019s star patrolling the streets. A tired clerk sells him a ticket for a coach enroute to Philadelphia that\u2019s boarding. He runs to the track. Relaxing in a seat, he tries to get some much-needed shut-eye, but is plagued by the sound of stock being handled in time for the next run \u2013 which is due to arrive any day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n Bela Seitz has never met a gunslinger or a wrathful widow. She spends her time in NYC as far from cattle herds as possible, working on Broadway and writing in buildings taller than the entire state of Kansas.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Since the hanging, Macy Ludlow has been frequenting saloons. Keen watchers could easily see that, though she lets cowboys buy her beverages, she imbibes just enough to redden her cheeks \u2013 but no one ever notices her lithe hands dump steins onto sticky hickory floorboards. They\u2019re too entranced by her rouge-tinted lips and amiable chatter. … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1211,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_hide_featured_image":false,"_jetpack_featured_image_duplicate_dismissed":0,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"nfd_image_url":"","nfd_onboarding_generated":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1137","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/11\/vitaliy-shevchenko-nrDS6zBPzSI-unsplash.jpg?fit=1920%2C1272&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1137","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1137"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1137\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1138,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1137\/revisions\/1138"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1211"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1137"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1137"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1137"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}