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The Hunt for El Lobo
Chapter 1: The Stranger
A horse neighing in the distance, the chink of spurs and a man’s calm hums. A shadowy figure climbed down from a dark horse. The man wore a thick frock coat with a dark hat on top. His lean body and cat like eyes portrayed a man familiar to the face of death. On his hip he wore a Colt Single Action engraved with a silver wolfs head in the grip. The figure then proceeded to grab behind his saddle and pulled out a large *1873 Winchester Rifle. The man began to meticulously load his rifle while humming an unknown tune. All the while, in the distance a lone rider appeared riding at a measly canter, unknowingly riding into a killer’s mist. After chambering his last round, the man then slowly proceeded to move into a prone position aiming his sights at the figure riding towards the canyon. As the slow humming continued, the sound of the lever chambering the first bullet split the air. Then the humming stopped; only the slow howl of the wind was heard as the squinty eyes of the man focused on his target. Then a sharp snap in the air was heard as the round delivered its report and the riding figure fell to the ground…
Where life had no values, death, sometimes, had its price.
That is why the bounty hunters appeared.
Year: 1873
Place: Lenoir City
Off the high plains of the distant west came a man, no ordinary man but a legendary bounty hunter. A thin man of about six foot one dressed in a simple black duster and hat, he carried an aura of confidence. Underneath the simple duster was a thick scar across the man’s neck. The man’s unkempt hair, squinty eyes, and thick stubble portrayed a hard cruel life. The man’s name was well… he had no real name but everyone called him The Stranger. No one knew much about the man except that he carried two death dealing *1851 Colt Navy Revolvers, one in a standard leather holster and the other weapon tucked into his belt. As the stranger slowly approached the small mining town of Lenoir, the stranger slowly cracked a devilish smile, as he knew the bounty laid waiting.
Once inside the town, the stranger made his way over to the local tavern slowly chewing on a wad of tobacco, while drawing the curious gazes of the local populace. Once at the tavern, he gracefully got off his pale roan, hitched it, and slowly walked up the steps. The tavern was a madhouse; literally, the place was full of rough, stinking, barbaric people. While an ear splitting piano played in the back ground, cattle ranchers from the north sat staring at prostitutes as they went by, a local drunk lay in the back with a bottle in his hand, degenerate gamblers set at table cursing, smoking, and drinking. “Where are they” the stranger thought.
Glancing around the area, the stranger then approached the bartender. A squat man of about five foot three with thick rimmed glasses made the man an unusual sight in the area. The stranger then walked up and gruffly said, “Beer and a bottle”. The bartender then happily obliged and brought a frothy beer and a cold bottle to the man. “That will be ninety cents” said the Bartender. After paying the bartender he pulled out a large parchment object and spread it in front of the bartender.
Once fully spread the bartender gasped, printed on the front of the paper read “Wanted dead or alive for Bill “Red” Smith, Josh Parsons, and James Mortimer $2,000 Reward”. The bartender gulped silently, and then slowly nodded towards a group of three men sitting in a dark corner around 10 feet away. The stranger then tipped his hat as if saying thanks and slowly walked towards the group. “Who the hell is that “said Bill Smith casting his eyes at his two associates? “I ain’t never seen him before “slurred the burly Josh Parsons. “Holy shit”, gulped James Mortimer” It’s…It’s… the stranger”. The three men quickly stood up, their chairs screeching on the wooden floor as they flew back. The tavern was deathly silent; all activity halted once everyone heard the famous bounty hunters name. The stranger walked forward around 5 feet away from the men and, spit tobacco juice at the floor and eerily questioned “What ya’ll boys getting all worked up for… huh”. Bill’s head was spinning” Here he was, the stranger, the man with no name, the death dealer” for the first, and last time in his short life, Bill would feel fear. Bill slowly gulped and squeaked “Uhhh…” then he did what he only knew what to do in this situation. He drew his weapon, but the stranger was faster. The stranger raised his weapon to eye level and aimed. Suddenly, as if in a slow motion movie three clicks were heard. One click for partial cock, two for half and three for full. And then a shot rang out in the tavern, Bill Smith clutched himself as a bullet was buried in the center of his chest, his body then hit the wooden floor with a thick thud. The slow red blood seeped out of his grossly contorted chest where the bullet had entered and exited. Once dealt with, the gun swiveled around and targeted Josh Parsons who had drawn his weapon but had pissed his pants and was weeping. Three clicks and once again a thunderous boom sounded and Josh crumpled to the floor, a bullet right between the eyes.
The gun once again swiveled around but no deathly clicks were heard. James Mortimer had not drawn his weapon. The stranger hissed “Alive or dead your choice”. James ungracefully dropped his gun and raised his hands. The stranger raised a half hearted grin and gruffly said “Now that’s more like it boy”. He then proceeded to tie James hands behind his back and carted him towards his horse.
When the man returned the smell of death washed over him as he surveyed the carnage. The two bodies lay limp on the floor, blood seeping from the wounds, pieces of brain matter scattered across the back wall of the tavern coating a few unsuspecting people. The horrendous smell of urine, defecation, sweat and blood combined to give the air a heavy feel. The contorted faces of death played across the two criminals, as the stranger grabbed a leg of each and drug them out to his horse. Once on his overburdened horse, he thought “Just another day at the office”, as the horse slowly walked towards the sheriff’s office. After arriving there the stranger walked up spurs clinking off the wood, and brazenly knocked the door in with James in tow.
“Here’s your alive one”, the stranger roughly threw James to the floor,” I got two more on my horse out back”. Once all the bodies were collected on the barren wood floor in the sheriff office, the sheriff then handed the stranger the two thousand dollars in reward money. The sheriff said “Two thousand dollars. It’s a lot of money; take me three years tuh earn it”. The stranger then retorted” Tell me, isn’t the sheriff ‘sposed to be brave, honorable, courageous, and above all honest?”The sheriff replied” Yeah, he is”. The stranger then snatched the star off the sheriff, tossed it in the dirt and airily said “I think you people need a new sheriff”. The spur clicking, tobacco spitting stranger slowly walked towards the local inn.
To be continued…
* The Colt Revolving Belt Pistol of Naval Caliber(i.e., .36 cal), later known as the Colt 1851 Navy or Navy Revolver, is a cap and ball revolver that was designed by Samuel Colt between 1847 and 1850. It remained in production until 1873, when revolvers using fixed metallic cartridges came into widespread use. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colt_1851_Navy_Revolver)
This weapon was thus converted from cap and ball to a regular fixed metallic cartridge thus standing out in the year 1873.
*Winchester Rifle is usually used to refer to the lever-action rifles manufactured by the Winchester Repeating Arms Company, though the company has also manufactured many rifles of other action types. Winchester rifles were among the earliest repeating rifles: the Winchester repeater was incredibly popular and is colloquially known as “The Gun that Won the West” for its predominant role in the hands of Western settlers. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winchester_rifle)