I had my fill of that damn austin. I finally shot some sonafbitch, and I was in the right, but the sonafbitch dint die.

there was three times the marshals there was before that cook killed them gals, and since that cook was dead, the saloons dint need watchmen no more. that were fine by me, I dint like settin up late and listenen to all the bronc bucstin that was goin on, and not me doin it. I had got a good part of my strength back, but not all of it, and I still tired out too quick havin my fun. since my livin establishment was taken care of, and since I werent wanted by any law, I took to loafin about town quite a bit. I also took to wearin my old cavalry shortcoat again. that aint all the way true. I had a new one made for me off the old one. the hell with the goddamned yankees and the hell with anyone who took offense at the CSA colors.

sure enough, some sonafbitch said somthin under his breath at me. he was wearin a gun, sos I called him out for it. I tolt him I could hear what you said you cowardly sonafbitch say it out loud. but he wuldnt do it. so I tolt him his ma was a whore that had every pecker from guys town all the way to laredo in her mouth. then I spat in his face, he sure went for his gun then. I cleared the LeMat jist fine when I werent all doped up and sickly, and I caught him in the gut with the 16 gauge. sonafbitch dropped his gun sos I couldnt keep shootin at him. I remember how everybody got all riled at me for shootin miguel thataway.

the marshals come up and the folks standin by said what happened, sos I werent arrested. I kept waiting for that sonofabitch to die, but they took him to the doc. they made me go away from there, but I had a brat run over to keep a watch out. sure enough the bastard dint die.

that damn Mariah.

folks dint much want me in austin after that. they remembered I had run out on the Rangers. but I was also tolt what they remembered then was that I ran with the Comanche. I jist stayed to spite em. I was hopin some other sonfabitch would call me out, sos I could prove that Mariah was wrong. I aint such a hard man that I had to go lookin for a fight, but I dint mind if someone brought it to me. which they dint. I was hopin theyd come to lynch me. I had extra ammo, and I had that Colonel Sherburns speech all memorized from Huck Finn. they dint come and nobody called me out. austin wasnt jist full of thieven congressmen, it was full of shopkeeps. sure was sad I dint get to use that speech, it was a ribtickler.

I stuck around til they put up the Goddess of War on the legislature buildin, then I finally got bored enough to ride away from austin. I drank some whiskey to the Goddess and rode off.

See page for author [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

they say bad news comes in threes, and I musta rode right past the man bringin me the bad news. I got to the ranchero, and everybody was in mournin. Ma had died. my two boys, both my boys had died.

Ma had took sick and died, but she was old, Jehovah give her comfort. losin her was too hard. I dont think I coulda stood it even if my boys hadnt died.

both my boys was hung.

Jesus, who they never let me call Jesse, was the boy that looked like me. the folks had that old daggertype of me off to the War, and there was a new picture of Jesus, and those pictures was jist the same. Jesus got caught by some mex when they was rustlin cattle on that side of the border. John dint like it much, but the vacqueros had kept doin it, and it just made us all that richer til Jesus got kilt.

Tommy, whod looked mex, had got caught and hung trying to steal some horses from a ranch on this side of the border, Texans hung him. he was a Texan too. I dont know what the hell made him try to steal those horses. I always tolt him that we stolt from them on the other side of the border and they stolt from us. that was the right way to do it. the vacqueros tolt him that too.

dint matter. the folks on the ranch sent me to John soons as I got there. I knew somthin was wrong cos of all the sadness, but I dint find out til John tolt me. He laid it out all right in front of me and dint try to sugarspoon it.

I got up and got another horse, and switched all my guns over to the new one. John, Maria,John jr, his wife all jist watched me as I saddled up and rode south. they knew better than to interfere.

turns out they dint need to stop me. I was ridin to the Double Bar S where they hung Tommy. I rode bout two hours then I stopped. it started rainin but that dint have shit to do with shit. them over to the Bar S was right to hang him. them down in mexico was right to hang Jesus. why the hell was it right to hang my boys? but I knowt it was.

I got off my horse and started tryin to shoot Jehovah out of the sky. I emptied them LeMats then the shotguns then the extra pistols and the rifles, I reloaded and kept tryin to bring that cowardly backshootin worthless yankee lovin son killin bastard down to the ground to where I could kick him to death again with my boots. I was cussin him and layin into him thick with the lowest words I could think. Jehovah dint come down to battle me, and I dint hit him with all I shot at him. I threw my pistols at him after I run out of loads.

then I jist stood there. don't know how long, I couldnt think not atall. sometime later then I picked up my pistols cept for I lost one of my LeMats. dint really care neither. when Heart-Catcher died, I was in a pit of despair, but I had ta ride out of that, and now I couldnt even think.

I got back on the horse and went to sleep. iffen he wanted to go back to the ranchero that was fine and if he dint I really dint give a damn.

there aint no song for this and there aint never gonna be.

By Native Sons of Oregon, Oregon Pioneer Association, Indian War Veterans and Historical Society [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

John Stevens:
Jesus and Thomas were wild boys, but good boys that grew into their own manhood quickly. They wee both sixteen when they died. They were sons to me and Maria and we took it hard. On top of ma passing. life was hard to bear for a long time after.

I had forbid the boys to go rustling with the vaqueros, and I should have watched them more closely. They had gone a couple of months before after I ordered them not to, and the whippings I gave them did not cow them. They were indeed my bother's sons and I loved them the more for it.

A cruel man would put part of the blame on Wallace. His visits were few but he doted on his sons when he did visit. His stories were wilder then Granpa's had been. He lectured them on war, made sure that my firearms instruction was worthy, and taught them some riding tricks I expect he picked up from the Comanche. His sons worshipped him. It should not have been surprising that they would want to ride for glory themselves.

I was certain it was the last I'd see of Wallace as he rode off that night. It was the only time I never saw the hint of a smile on his face, and while I expected a look of vengeance to him as he mounted, all I could see was emptiness.

The Story So Far

Part One, in which Wallace Stevens returns home from the Civil War, then joins the Texas Rangers.
Part Two, wherein our desperado steals a Comanche princess and deserts the Rangers.
Part Three, in which Wallace attempts to return home again yet to put himself into more trouble.
Part Four describes the shootist's adventures as a hired gun in Mexico.
Part Five, wherein Wallace reminisces over his favorite weapons.
Part Six returns the gunman to New Orleans, where he joins a buffalo hunting crew.
Part Seven in which Wallace reflects on killing and the War.
Part Eight relates the tale of buffalo hunting and the last of the buffalo Indians.
Part Nine, wherein Wallace reflects upon his life with the fairer sex
Part Ten brings misfortune to our unreconstructed rebel.
Part Eleven, in which Wallace is quartered in Austin far longer than he'd like.
Part Twelve brings Wallace face to face with Austin's Jack the Ripper, a fiendish killer of women.