Atonement

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  Charlie’s hand slipped down toward his ankle. Metal glittered in the sun as he removed a knife from his boot.

  “Coward!” someone yelled.

  Charlie glared at Christian with malice in his wild eyes and struck out with the blade. Christian evaded two quick slashes with the knife, but Charlie had backed him into a corner. A building loomed behind him, and he couldn’t retreat any farther than its walls. He gathered his focus and waited for Charlie to stab at him. When he did, Christian caught his enemy’s arm, twisting it back away from him, and the two struggled for control of the blade. In an instant Christian elbowed Charlie in the nose, grabbed the knife, and jammed it clean through the rustler’s hand.

  Charlie screamed as blood poured from the wound. Christian drove his knee into Charlie’s stomach. Charlie went sprawling into the dirt, and Christian punched him again and again.

  When he was finished beating on Charlie Sheldon, Christian stood and looked down on the rustler. Everyone watched from the safety of stores and houses, shock and amazement on their faces.

  “Now everyone has seen you for what you really are,” Christian said. He bent down to whisper into Charlie’s ear. “Wherever you go, everyone will know your name and what happened here.” He pulled the knife from Charlie’s hand, prompting another scream. “You’re through.”

  Charlie remained on his belly in the dirt, waiting for a killing blow that never came. Instead, Christian only watched him with a look of disgust.

  When Charlie finally raised his head, Christian muttered, “Get out of my sight.”

  The outlaw found his footing and climbed onto the back of his horse. He rode away in defeat, every eye on him.

  Weary, and almost unable to stand, Christian staggered down the dirt road. The gang was gone, hopefully for good.

  People began to spill out into the street. Murmurs spread through the gathering crowd.

  Morgan looked at Christian with pride. “You pulled it off,” the farmer muttered. “I always knew you would.”

  Christian cast a glance back at the body of Russell Hale. “Where’s Finley?” he finally said.

  As Christian and Morgan went off in search of the others, ringing church bells and rising smoke commingled in the air.

  * * * * *

  Charlie Sheldon was faint from the loss of blood, but his rage kept him upright in the saddle. Unable to return to the mountains for fear of being discovered, he had been forced to flee into the desert. The overbearing sun beat down on him as it baked the arid terrain with intense heat. He shakily searched the saddle for a canteen of water with his injured hand. Each drop of blood stained the leather surface.

  There was no water left. He withdrew his hand, which throbbed with a dull pain. Charlie knew he would have to tend to the injury before long, lest it become infected. In the wild, that was a death sentence. He peered into the distance, searching for anything beyond the miles of desert. When Charlie thought of Emerson, anger welled up within him.

  He’ll regret leaving me alive, he thought, spurring the horse onward.

  Emerson had not simply bested him―the man had humiliated Charlie publicly for all to see. Emerson had almost single-handedly dismantled most of his outfit and put several of his men in the ground. When word got out, Charlie would go from being feared to being ridiculed. Charlie promised himself they wouldn’t laugh for long.

  As soon as he escaped the desert, Charlie would gather what remained of his gang and set out to recruit some new blood. When he was finished, the outlaws would return to Casper and kill everyone they could. His thoughts moved to his men, who had failed him when he needed them. For that they would pay a price, eventually.

  He rode on. The sun did not abate, and neither did his anger. As Charlie continued, the terrain shifted from rock-covered to grassy, and he found a creek surrounded by trees. Hungry and exhausted, he tied his horse to a tree before lowering his head and drinking from the creek. He waded farther into the refreshing water.

  Charlie caught his reflection in the water. He was in bad shape, but he had been in worse before. A pillar of smoke rose above the treetops some distance away. His lips curled upward in a cruel smile. The smoke meant someone lived nearby. He would scout whatever house or cabin awaited him, and then he would come under cover of night and take it for himself. Charlie was pleased. He would make it out of this, and he would make everyone suffer.

  The wind picked up, and he felt a chill. As he waded back toward the shore, a red leaf floated down from one of the trees and landed in the water in front of him. Charlie looked down at the leaf, the color of blood. His smile faded.

  A soft sound reverberated in the distance. It was a sound Charlie knew all too well: the rustling of hooves. Horses were moving toward his position, though he knew not who pursued him. Instinctively, he reached for his gun with his good hand before remembering he had lost his weapons. The sound of riders grew louder. Hoping the trees would provide concealment, the rustler crept toward the bank, where his horse was waiting for him.

  They emerged through the trees and rode up to the creek before he could reach the horse. Charlie stood on the shore, his boots ankle-deep in mud. He recognized the men instantly. It was Quinn Blackwell, along with Lester and the Pennington brothers. They must have followed his trail.

  Charlie was relieved, though he was careful not to show it. “It’s about time,” he said. “I was wondering where you got off to.”

  “Charlie,” Quinn said, touching his hat. There was a new look in his eyes, one Charlie had never seen before. Something about it unsettled him.

  Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t just sit there,” he ordered. The boss held up his injured hand. “I require aid.”

  The men didn’t move.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Charlie hissed.

  “We’re done taking orders from you,” Kane Pennington said.

  Charlie stared at him with unrestrained anger. Then his gaze fell on Quinn. “Quinn, what’s this about?”

  The man on horseback stared down at him a moment, as if considering the situation. Quinn’s eyes wandered down to Charlie’s empty holsters, and then he pulled one of his own revolvers, aiming the gun at his former boss.

  When Quinn met Charlie’s gaze again, a look of sudden realization dawned on Charlie’s face. Quinn shot Charlie through the chest without saying a word. Charlie collapsed backward into the creek with a splash. He stared up at the blue sky as green leaves rained down around him and water slowly engulfed him. Charlie could feel the others watching him, though he found himself unable to move to see their eyes. Blood colored the water around him as his body floated in silence.

  The rustlers waited until they were sure Charlie was dead. Then Quinn gave the word, and the horsemen rode off for parts unknown.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was a season of endings and beginnings.

  Word spread quickly that Smiling Charlie Sheldon had been run out of Casper. The next morning, the church bells rang for hours in celebration. It was later said that Reverend Burke rang the bells until he could no longer lift his arms.

  The fog of despair that had gripped the town began to lift, and the streets of Casper once again bustled with life. People came for miles to witness the funeral of Russell Hale, who was laid to rest alongside many of the others who had yet to be buried in those final days, both rustler and innocent alike. Whispers told of the man who drew his pistols with incredible speed, a gunslinger who had ridden into Casper to put an end to Charlie Sheldon’s reign of terror.

  Although sentiment had turned against the mayor toward the end, no one spoke ill of Russell Hale. Many told surprising stories of good deeds he had done for them in secret, or stories from his youth. Even Landon Morgan had a few kind words to say about the mayor. Reverend Burke gave a moving eulogy addressing the conflict with the rustlers that left many i
n tears.

  Christian watched the funeral from a distance to avoid attention. When the crowd dispersed, he visited the grave, where Sheriff Newton lingered, to pay his respects.

  “He was a good man,” the sheriff said. Newton looked as if he’d aged a great deal in a short time. The past few months had been rough on him.

  Christian nodded. He fell quiet for a moment. “He found his courage in the end,” he said simply, staring down at the grave.

  Newton tried to speak but couldn’t find the words.

  The two men stood there in silence for a long while before shaking hands and parting ways.

  Not long after the funeral, Jim Markham’s farmhands began coming down from the mountain. Without Big Jim or Charlie Sheldon to pay them, the outfit disbanded. The men tried to sell off the horses. Some took work where they could find it, assisting with the harvest. Upon finding that they were largely not welcome in town, many chose to leave Casper behind. Isolated in the mountains, the former Markham ranch fell into disarray in the months that followed.

  Finley Mason lay under Doc Brooks’ care for almost a week. His condition grew worse with each day. His blankets were drenched with sweat, and he struggled to keep liquids down as he became feverish. May Turner sat at his bedside almost day and night, refusing to leave. Christian spent a portion of time looking after him too. He also kept his distance to allow Finley’s family time with their son once they arrived. Mr. Mason spent most of his time in prayer.

  The wound was not clean. The gunshot had splintered Finley’s shin, shattering the bone. The bullet was lodged firmly in the young man’s leg. Removing it proved a more difficult task than the physician anticipated. Finley slipped in and out of consciousness. His body became pale and weak. When Doc Brooks checked the injured leg after a few days, it was clear that infection had set in. After emptying the room of the young man’s family, Doc Brooks amputated Finley’s left leg below the knee.

  * * * * *

  And so it was that Finley awoke on a Sunday morning to the ringing of the bells and the sound of church music. The face of May Turner was the first thing he saw. The two sat alone in the quiet room.

  “You’re going to make it,” she said happily. It was apparent that she had been crying.

  Finley reached forward and took her by the hand. He smiled at her. May smiled back, but he noticed the sadness in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. Finley followed her gaze down to his blanket. His smile faded as he lowered the covers, and his eyes filled up with tears.

  May rose from the chair and sat on the bed with Finley, holding him in her arms while he cried. They stayed like that until Finley’s family returned. The reunion was full of laughter and tears.

  * * * * *

  Hours later, the door opened, and a new visitor approached the bed.

  “I wonder if I might have a moment of Finley’s time,” Christian said. He removed his hat and held it at his side.

  Mr. Mason nodded, and he and the others left the room. May stood and reluctantly departed, finally letting go of Finley’s hand. Both men watched her go.

  The pair of friends exchanged a knowing look. “Finley,” Christian said, looking down at his friend. His voice broke. His eyes stung. He turned his head so Finley wouldn’t see the tear run down his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I cried.”

  Christian regained his composure and sought out Finley’s eyes. He tried to speak, but again the words caught in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t find the words.”

  Finley just shook his head, and Christian understood that he didn’t have to say anything at all. He simply stood where he was for a time until it was evident the others were ready to return to the room.

  Christian turned to leave.

  “Thank you,” Finley said.

  Christian pictured an image of the young man climbing up the mountain, defiantly risking the odds to save a friend. “No, Finley,” he replied. “Thank you. You have my gratitude more than you’ll ever know.”

  When the door opened, he watched the look that passed between May Turner and Finley, and Christian knew Finley was going to be all right.

  * * * * *

  The next few weeks passed quickly. With the threat of the rustlers lifted, Casper grew busy with what remained of the harvest. Charlie’s boys hadn’t burned all of the crops, and there was plenty of work to be done on farms around for miles. Everyone pitched in gladly. Christian and Morgan lent their assistance to the Mason family. Finley was now learning to walk on crutches. For the most part, he mainly watched the work, though he pitched in where he could. It seemed to lift his spirits just to have Christian present, and the rider enjoyed getting to know the young man’s family.

  Once the harvest was behind them, the residents turned their attention to rebuilding the conflict-ravaged town. Landon and Rebecca Morgan continued their temporary stay with Rudolph Griffith, and Christian joined them. To no one’s surprise, Griffith ran for mayor to replace Russell Hale and won easily. He began his term by offering to make Christian the new sheriff. Christian refused, claiming that Sheriff Newton was perfectly equipped for the job. Griffith next attempted to persuade Christian to accept a role as a deputy, which he again turned down.

  Not dissuaded, the new mayor devised ambitious plans to rebuild and expand the town. A group of men, including Christian, helped rebuild the school. Christian became good friends with Mrs. Kays, whose stories of the East during breaks for lemonade brought back memories of home. After discovering his love of reading, the schoolteacher shared with him several books that were recovered from the fire. Christian emphatically thanked her for what he considered a kingly gift and began reading once more to Rebecca Morgan each night. Once the school was finished, the men set about rebuilding the saloon, in which Griffith and Tobias Vincent were now partners.

  After a courtship over almost three months, the church bells sounded again, and Finley Mason and May Turner were married. Christian stood for Finley at the ceremony, and Abigail Vincent stood for May. Although they had expected a simple wedding, most of the town ended up in attendance. When May spotted Finley, a look of pure happiness came over her face. She smiled brightly, the sadness in her eyes lost in the joy of the moment.

  Afterward, Finley’s parents welcomed her into the family, and the town enjoyed a banquet thrown in the couple’s honor by Tobias Vincent. The young couple remained with Finley’s family for several months before Finely found a job with the bank as a clerk. From that point on, Christian didn’t see very much of the young man, though the two bumped into each other in town from time to time.

  One year later, Finley took a job as a banker in California. The newlyweds took a wagon to the nearest railhead to catch a train farther west. Christian shook Finley’s hand and said goodbye to the couple before they left Casper. It was the last time they ever saw each other.

  Smiling Charlie Sheldon was never heard from again. Rumors of his demise spread across Wyoming, though no one seemed to know what really happened to the once-feared rustler. Having been successfully driven off, the rustlers never showed their faces in Casper again. There was word that the outfit had resurfaced in Colorado, apparently under the leadership of Quinn Blackwell, but Christian took such stories with a grain of salt. Wherever the rustlers were, they had departed Casper forever.

  Once the harvest had passed, and the school and the saloon were restored, Landon and Rebecca Morgan returned to what remained of their ranch. Christian went with them to rebuild. They started with the house, and before winter came, they had rebuilt the barn as well. The men rounded up what cattle they could find. Life continued on at the ranch, and they all endured the winter together.

  For his part, Christian decided to stay behind in Casper. It was a small town filled with good people; the kind of haven he’d dreamed of for so long.
He formed many deep friendships with the townspeople. Most people regarded the man who beat Charlie Sheldon with a mixture of awe and respect. Christian continued to remain private about his past, and he never shared his true name with anyone, but he finally became more comfortable opening up to others. Over time, he became closer to the man he was before the war.

  In the spring, Christian built a modest home a short distance from Landon Morgan’s ranch. It was a difficult task, but when he finished, Christian was proud of his work. As he looked out over the land, he realized that for the first time in ages, he was happy.

  Eventually, Christian stopped searching for his face whenever a new wanted poster went up outside the jail. He finally allowed himself to relax, no longer fearing that each new day would bring with it the chance of capture or death.

  And so, he lived in peace, free of his past.

  For a time.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two Years Later

  The horseman rode into Jefferson City on a black stallion. It was midday, and the bustling streets were filled with people from all walks of life. The man in the saddle kept his hat down, hoping not to draw attention to himself. Brock was well aware that the city was home to the Missouri State Penitentiary.

  He found a place to hitch his horse and dismounted to search for the nearest saloon. There was word that the Pennington brothers were in Jefferson City, and Brock was anxious to renew their acquaintance. The brothers still ran with Quinn Blackwell, who had rebuilt the remains of Charlie Sheldon’s gang into something to be feared. Brock wanted to return to the outfit.