Chapter 1, Part One

"No Honor"

Chapter 1 - Part One: Entrance;

They call it "The Station", but that's a joke, believe me. No trains come through this town, nor would they, even if we had the tracks to carry 'em. Besides, decent folk ride trains; husbands, and mothers and children. Well no man 'round here, could raise nuthin' but a goddamn bastard, and no woman is willing to stay wed to anyone, for more than a few hours a night.

What it was, was a hideout, a hell of a place on earth, where law wouldn't go 'til it was forced to. Now, where my place was, was in the southern east corner of The Station. From there, I could hear all the trouble comin' up north, from Texas, all the bother coming east, from the Indian, and all the ruckus from our lovely town behind. So when gunshots sounded off that night, I wasn't spooked, and I didn't think to take cover. I just stood there on the front porch, watching the shoot out like a dumb animal.

A bullet hit the rail next to me, and I winced, but I didn't move far. I can't blame my fool stubbornness on nuthin' but plain curiosity. As dark as it was, all I could see at first was a white face, chasin' two men on horseback.

A white face, and that was it. No horse and no body there at all, just the face, rushin' through the night, like it was shot out a cannon. But see, I've been on this earth more than fifty years, and a younger man would have seen the truth, sooner than I could've. There was a body all right; it was dressed in black, and there was a horse too, but it was just as black, if not more so.

The rider himself was exactly the opposite, and what a sight he was. He rode with no expression, and no emotion. That white face was a marble statue, with no hint o' life or breath beneath it. His hand rose up then, and I saw steel reflect a point o' starlight.

Next I heard the crack of the shot, and then I saw that one of those fleeing men got hit. He slumped forward on his mare a bit, and then he passed out, and fell off the animal's rear. He took a few kicks from the horse, for his trouble.

His buddy never looked back, except to shoot at the spook chasin' him. They was ridin' right towards my direction, and I could see that the fella being chased was wounded. His left leg was out of the stirrup, and it was bleedin' and dangling limp, like a loose rope. Still, he clung close to that animal, with every other limb he had.

Fortunes changed, for that young man, then and there. As they both passed me, he half turned and shot his pistol; and that bullet, struck the black horse, in the eye.

The spook didn't realize at first, that his horse was dead. He raised his gun and shot back, right away, but then the horse's gallop stopped short, and she pitched forward so fast, he didn't have a chance. Her nose hit the dirt, his cowboy hat flew off, and they rolled end over end, twice. When they came to a stop, the dead horse was on top of 'im.