The Man With the Gold

I submitted this a week ago, but took it down because I felt it wasn't ready yet. Here is a more polished version that I think does my villain's intro a little more justice. Let me know what you think!

The Man with the Gold

     He awoke to the sound of muffled whimpering. Feet trailed nervous circles around him in the dim morning light. The men were whispering, something had gone wrong, and clearly they weren’t ready to tell him about it. He yawned deeply, feeling the dry, desert air seep into his tired lungs. The back of his throat burned with a night’s coat of dust. One way or another the desert managed to cover everything in dust.

     A pink hue greeted the opening of his tired eyes, along with a group of terrified men staring back at him. “What’s got you all up so early?” His voice was laid back, but still the group fell silent. The men were ragged; a two week trek through the badlands could do that. “Now, you all know me enough. Do I reward silence?” None of the men answered. The man stood, cracking his back in the morning gloom and donning his customary black riding hat. 

     As he walked through the crowd of men, the only sound was his spurs clacking against the rock below. The whimpering sloughed through the morning air, louder than before. Just outside the circle of the dying fire lay the crumpled form of Wilson, hands bound to a crude stake in the ground. “Did no one think to move him?” He said to the captive audience, watching his every move. The only response was a series of noncommittal shrugs. One look and anyone could read Wilson’s guilt. He shook like a leaf in the breeze and two streaks ran down his face where tears had washed the dirt clean.

     “Alright, Wilson. I’m going to cut you loose, but you need to promise me two things.”

     “I promise.” He said glumly.

     “Now I haven’t even gotten to what those two things are yet, so hold your promises until I have finished my elaboration.” He paused and Wilson nodded a shaking head at him. “One, you’re not going to move from that spot when I let you up. Two, there will be no lies spoken between us. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

     “Yes.”

     “Do you promise to abide by these rules?”

     “Yes.

     “Yes what?”

     “Yes, I promise.”

     “Very good then.” As he walked closer Wilson’s trembling grew worse. In his eyes was the fear that only a dead man could possess. “Tell me how this happened and I’ll make it quick.” He said, cutting the bonds and standing back. In the morning sun he looked like the final judge, walking the line between worlds. It was an imposing position, and he had chosen it for that reason.  

     “He came in the middle of the night; put a knife to my throat.” His words came through muffled sobs. “You don’t have to do this, there was no way I could have stopped him.”

     “Wilson, no begging, you know how I feel about begging. Who came in the night?”

     “I didn’t know him. It was dark! Please!” He pulled a pistol from his belt and shot Wilson in the knee. Smoke trailed from a tiny, black revolver that glistened in the sunlight.

     “I said no begging.” Wilson screamed bloody murder and dropped to the ground again. No one heard but the buzzards above, drawn by the gunshot, anxious for their turn. “What did he look like Wilson? Focus now and this ugly business can be a little smoother for you.” Blood seeped out of Wilson’s knee onto the hungry desert below.

     “I can’t remember.” He was shaking. It could have been the shock, or the fear for the sins he had made in the world, but the man had no patience for it.

     “You’re going to have to try.” None of the men said a word.

     “He was tall, dark hair, rode a pale horse.” His voice grew fainter by the minute. If the man didn’t finish him, he would bleed out.

     “Very good Wilson. I have one final question, and it’s an important one. What did he take?” Wilson winced, trying to hide deeper in the dirt. His head turned frantically from side to side, searching the desert for a way out. There were none. They stood on top of a tall bluff, looking over miles of red rock and dust. “Remember your promise Wilson. What did he take?”

     The man wiped his forehead from the exertion of it all. The company remained silent and resolute, awaiting the next move. The blood had formed an unpleasant pool around the man’s boots, mixing with the dirt to form a sickening mud. He was running out of patience.  “Wilson, WHAT DID HE FUCKING TAKE?!” Wilson sobbed, choking out words that were unintelligible. They were greeted only by the merciless click of the hammer being pulled back once more.

     The man knew what was missing, but there was a certain finality to hearing it from the man who had lost it. “They took the…” Horrid choking cries cut off his speech.

     “Yes, what did he take?” The man gritted his teeth, fingering the trigger of his pistol anxiously.

     “The gold.” Another gun shot and Wilson’s head snapped backward, spilling his last thoughts as it went. The man took a kerchief from his pocket and tried to wipe the blood off his coat.

“Shit, that’s going to stain.” Carefully he emptied the two spent casings and replaced them with fresh ammunition. The routine was meant to stave off the raging beast growing in his stomach, but it did no good. “FUCK!” It echoed back at them a thousand times over, solidifying his grief. “How many men did we lose to get that gold?!” A persnickety man with thin rimmed circular glasses shuffled up from the back of the group. He was skinny, but firm in the way he held the company ledger to his chest. 

“Four, and two injured that we had to leave behind.” It was all business with him. No death went unrecorded, and the cost to the company was always analyzed. Replacing four men had been a difficult task, and they hadn’t even been fully trained yet. The crew was a well-oiled machine and too many spare parts would make it break down.  

“Four. Jesus Christ. Alright listen up!” Jack spun wildly in the middle of the men with arms outstretched. “As Wilson has taken it upon himself to be a colossal fuck-up, we are going to postpone that rest that we have all so desperately earned. Out in that desert is a thief, holding on to our hard earned gold. I for one am not leaving this shithole until we have it back!” The men cheered, excited by the prospect of violence. They may have been a crooked group, but were dependable when it came to producing bloodshed.

“Break camp and saddle the horses. He’s already got half a night’s ride on us, let’s not give him anymore…”