The Cool, Roan Rider, Part Ii

...Jack went down in a heap, the shot biting his thigh. The rider drew near, gun in hand, said,”You do not need to die. “Though you’ll not believe it, I will still to you explain: You’re brother was a rapist, and with young girls he did play. “And when a daughter of a friend fell to his twisted appetites, I did what I had to do, and sent him to that dark night. “I know you will believe think this, to you he was family, but that monster is worth no revenge. His death, in fact, was a duty. “But sin belongs to those who sin, and not to any other. And I see not the ravenous beast in the eyes of his young brother. “And though I’m a forgiving man, I’ll warn you this one time, don’t ever come for me again, ‘cause I'm not always so kind.” He tossed Ed’s pistol aside, then mounted up on his horse. He rode off, resigning himself to a night sleeping outdoors. It had been such every night, since his own loss, long ago, when he’d crossed that bloody line, when he’d lost his own. No more smiles, or boyish laughs, no warm nights by the fire, his woman gone, and his boy too… nothing remained by the ire. Sometimes he did like to think that he could go on back, return to what he once was, give up these duty tracks… But deep down he’d always know that inside he had grown cold, since he’d walked from their gravesides, against evil now he rode. Forever on, he rode.