The Lone Rider

The Lone Rider

Ashton Macaulay

    The rider patted his horse softly, cursing the rising sun as he did so. Thankfully as the world sharpened in the morning light a town appeared on the horizon. The rider’s luck had finally shifted. He had ridden for 3 days without stopping, his water was gone, and any minute his horse was going to keel over and die (as horses often did). It had been a hot end to a long ride as the last legs often were. Even as the cover of darkness had barely faded to the edges of the world, heat blasted across the barren landscape. “This fucking heat.” He muttered to no one in particular. It was comforting to fall into the tired old tropes of the west, even if it meant babbling incoherently into the desert.The wasteland gave through to a mildly cleared dirt road with small stones piled along the sides. The rider unclicked the strap holding the gun on his right hip and touched the hammer for reassurance.

     The gun itself was far bigger than any gun should have ever been. When fired it kicked like a mule and left nothing of the opposing party but an objectionable cloud of red mist and gun smoke. On both sides of the saddle heavy bags clinked and clattered with each swaying step of the nearly dead horse. The horse’s name was Poncho, taken from a Mexican folk-tale that the rider had heard some years past. It had seemed appropriate at the time, but invariably it just led to lengthy explanations with people who generally didn’t care for foreigners. All the same, it suited the horse better than Buttercup.

     As they approached the town Poncho snorted derisively shifting the weight on his back. His grey fur rippled in a spasm that shook the rider violently. “Easy Poncho, just a few more minutes and we can get some rest.” From a distance the town had appeared almost deserted with no signs of activity, but as they drew closer the outlines of townspeople could be seen gathering in the street.

     The rider had never much liked townsfolk, and for the most part they didn’t like him either. He had the uncanny ability to bring death and bloodshed with him wherever he went. It wasn’t intentional by any stretch, but the rider possessed a series of firm opinions that tended to get him into scuffles, which once again unintentionally led to gunfights, and when one gun is the size of a god damned cannon, those gunfights tended to be fairly one sided. Let’s just say that the rider took his whiskey in saloons that decorated their walls red. It made the cleanup easier.

     The sleepy town quickly filled with bustling men, women, and children anxious to get a look at the visitor. This region wasn’t known for being well-traveled, which was part of the reason the rider had spent so long wandering the harsh badlands with no sight of refuge. For the most part the west had become populated, but there were still little pockets of hell like the one he was currently in where one could go for days and see nothing but a steer carcass picked clean by the buzzards. It was always heartening to see a traveler’s skeleton crawling the opposite. It was motivation for the rider, whose only purpose was to outlast.

     The empty desert had filled with the sounds of the murmuring crowd ahead. Whispers and shouts echoed off of the rocks, and in a way angered the rider, for he didn’t much care for gossip. A reputation could sprout out of one nasty, little piece of misinformation and he would be at the end of a hangman’s rope by midday. Truth be told that might have been where he belonged, but the townsfolk didn’t need to know that. He fiddled with the saddlebags uneasily; sneaking one last peak at their cargo.

     From within their faded leather, glints of gold shot out, bringing joy to the tired rider’s eyes. The sight of gold was enough to calm any man’s nerves, and spur another to rash judgments. Possession of it was a risky business and the rider knew it all too well. I can’t stay here for long. As the thought occurred he watched as the townspeople’s faces shifted in a macabre display of his own imagination. Greedy hobgoblins stared him down, scrabbling at the air for even a single piece of his precious cargo. They snarled and snapped like animals. He spit uncomfortably, immediately regretting the waste of water as it was snapped up by the hungry desert.

     One man stepped forward from the crowd at the edge of the town and stood proudly in the middle of the street. Hell of a town to be proud of. The rider thought absently. The buildings were run down, as most were in the region. Each had planks older than the last and sagged under their own weight. The entire town looked like it was ready to collapse in the slightest change of breeze. The buildings creaked with every second, creating a sort of uneasy symphony, mixing with the whispers in the air.

     “Good morning traveler!” said the man who had stepped into the middle of the road. He was dressed in a fine white doublet with a black overcoat and a large top hat. It was entirely too hot for the getup and the man sweat profusely as a result.

It’s a sheer miracle he isn’t roasted alive in that suit. The man’s stomach threatened to burst from the confines of his tightly pressed white undershirt and jiggled as he shifted uncomfortably. He reminded the rider of a sausage, which in turn made his stomach ache. It had been days since his last meal. “Good morning to you as well.” The rider said, stepping off his horse and walking out to greet the man. With the sun at his back he was an imposing figure. He was more shadow than man, casting a threatening silhouette which engulfed the tiny man in front of him. “My horse and I have been riding for some time now and require food and water. Can you assist us?”

“Yes, of course.” He pulled at the tight collar around his neck, presumably trying to breathe. “But, before I do, might I ask what your business is in this region? We are so often unvisited, and I’m afraid that it makes us a trifle wary of strangers such as you.”

“Wary might not be the worst thing to be. I’d be wary if I was you; tall man walks in on a dusty horse, guns strapped around his waist, murderous look in his eyes? Yeah I’d be a little wary too, but do you know what would be my course of action?” The man quaked vigorously at the question. He was clearly unaccustomed to threats and hadn’t expected such a violent reaction.

“What would that be?”

“I would give the man a stable for his horse and food for his belly, because you wouldn’t want to see those guns go to action would you? A gun like that could probably rip through the paper fabric of a town like this in; what do you think, six seconds?” The man didn’t respond, flustered by the rider’s threats. “I’m thinking one good shot to the support beam of that shop could bring the entire thing down in an instant. A general store like that is bound to be important too. It would be a shame to lose it over something as trivial as fear of strangers.”

“Who does he think he is, threatening us?!” A man with fewer teeth than brains yelled from the crowd. The rider was quick, pulling out the revolver from his side and firing faster than the man could blink. The saguaro cactus the interrupter was standing next to promptly exploded, showering him with hundreds of uncomfortable needle points. He cursed and swore, but shut his mouth when the rider looked his way again.

“Many of you might think my threats to be unwarranted. In fact, you’ve been nothing but downright hospitable from my arrival, apart from the haphazard lynch-mob that is, but I’ve learned a few things in my time out west. For instance, look at the man whose general store I threatened. The fat man in the top hat turned around and looked at an equally large individual now attempting to hide behind his wife. “Now, an ordinary individual might not have noticed the knife he pulled when I pointed to his store, but I did. Now rather than have that knife protrude from my back in an hour or so, I opted to show you what I am capable of. This could be a very profitable visit for all of us, if we can just learn to cooperate!” The rider flashed a winning smile and holstered his pistol. “Now how about that stable?”