Holed up in a cabin in the Idaho hills, the mysterious man who called himself Trent wasn't looking for trouble. It came looking for him. A trigger-happy kid named Cub Hale emptied his gun into an unarmed man. Then he came swaggering after Trent. The girl who ran the gambling hall tried to get him to hightail it. But Trent wasn't buying. Even in that forsaken back country, he knew when a man had to speak with his shooting iron. http://www.louislamour.com/novels/mtnvalley.htm
When we finished the final chapter, we just knew what had to be done. With apologies to Louis L'Amour (and to be read in a dramatic tone):
The night was damp and the air was heavy. Heavy with suffocating moisture and humidity, but also heavy with the realization that we could either continue allowing the enemy to run roughshod over the primitive settlement of the dirt farmers who eeked out a hardscrabble existence on the Cajun prairie or we could stand our ground and face the sinister outlaw who was inhabiting a homestead he didn't own, where his ruinous ways threatened their very existence.
With a look of indignation, the boy resolved to do something about it and gathered up his Marlin lever action .22 rifle and extra ammunition. The grim reality hit him that he must take a life tonight and this solemn observance made the journey to the stall seem as long as the vast wide-openness of the American West. He left his faithful steed tied up and instead opted to walk in determined fashion, making slow, purposeful steps to the bloody destination. His gait was sure and steady.
 |
| The huntsman |
Chickens scurried to safety, sensing the danger that was palpable - an ominous, imminent action that would soon play out near the barn. The cattle lazily slumbered, but became quickly alert with the presence of the boy, swishing their tails at the swarming mosquitoes as if to symbolically and preemptively blot out the horrors they would soon behold in this otherwise peaceful locale. The Day of Judgment had arrived and there was a debt that had come due.
The boy opened the gate to the barn, whose hinges responded with a creaking, and then the lights came on in the villain's lair as the boy keenly looked around for the outlaw. As the villain showed himself, the boy's fingers pulled the hammer back. "Your time's up, vermin!" the boy muttered with disdain as he looked into the beady eyes and into the very soul of the despicable creature. But the enemy couldn't hold the stare and true to the yellow-bellied coward that he was, turned and ran from the gunfight seeking protection amongst the rafters of the barn.
The boy's fingers twitched and found their home against the familiar trigger. He took careful aim and followed the interloper with the long barrel of his weapon as the wrong-doer ran. Coward. Time seemed to stand still. As if in slow motion, the single shot rang out through the thick darkness. Dust in the air parted as the pellets made their way to their destination. The sound could be heard far and wide across the settlement and all inhabitants perceived what this sound meant. It was a hearkening sound of justice, freedom, and finality. No more would they be plagued by this scourge, nay, judgment had been rendered and the debt had been marked "Paid in Full."
The pungent smell of burnt gunpowder filled the enclosure along with the scent of death. The young man spat on the ground accentuating his disdain for the villain as the trespasser kicked and struggled and breathed his last breath. "He just needed killin'," the boy uttered. Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled signaling the end of a long, darkened night which would soon usher in a bright new day on Our Maker's Acres Family Farm. Oh take heed, all ye dirty rats that welcome filth and breed destruction. There's a new sheriff wearing the badge and his name, well, his name is Benjamin.
The boy opened the gate to the barn, whose hinges responded with a creaking, and then the lights came on in the villain's lair as the boy keenly looked around for the outlaw. As the villain showed himself, the boy's fingers pulled the hammer back. "Your time's up, vermin!" the boy muttered with disdain as he looked into the beady eyes and into the very soul of the despicable creature. But the enemy couldn't hold the stare and true to the yellow-bellied coward that he was, turned and ran from the gunfight seeking protection amongst the rafters of the barn.
The boy's fingers twitched and found their home against the familiar trigger. He took careful aim and followed the interloper with the long barrel of his weapon as the wrong-doer ran. Coward. Time seemed to stand still. As if in slow motion, the single shot rang out through the thick darkness. Dust in the air parted as the pellets made their way to their destination. The sound could be heard far and wide across the settlement and all inhabitants perceived what this sound meant. It was a hearkening sound of justice, freedom, and finality. No more would they be plagued by this scourge, nay, judgment had been rendered and the debt had been marked "Paid in Full."
The pungent smell of burnt gunpowder filled the enclosure along with the scent of death. The young man spat on the ground accentuating his disdain for the villain as the trespasser kicked and struggled and breathed his last breath. "He just needed killin'," the boy uttered. Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled signaling the end of a long, darkened night which would soon usher in a bright new day on Our Maker's Acres Family Farm. Oh take heed, all ye dirty rats that welcome filth and breed destruction. There's a new sheriff wearing the badge and his name, well, his name is Benjamin.
 |
| The Huntsman and His Prey |
Well, we were unable to catch him in the rat trap, the bucket trap, or the glue trap, but Benjamin got him with a .22 rifle loaded appropriately with rat shot.
 |
| He's dead! |
He was a big old fellow. For perspective, that is a size 10 1/2 boot!
 |
| Tails you LOSE! |
Tomorrow, we try to get his mate. The hunt never ends. The guy in the white hat must always be vigilant and watchful.
No comments:
Post a Comment