The Tale of Jericho

A story about the wild and unpredictable west

The Tale Of Jericho

Jericho rode his young horse on the dusty trail as the sun beat down on him. He never wore a cowboys hat; he didn't like how they fit on his head. It had been days since he had stopped to rest, although he had no real destination. In fact, Jericho had no idea what to do with the remainder of his youthful life. Perhaps work in a pub or work as a mercenary. It didn't matter to him; as long as he could make a living on something he would be happy. He would do anything to just live a normal life.

Jericho continued to ride with his head deep in thought as wind blew dust in his eyes and in his brown hair, which he kept a longer-than-normal length. We wondered about family, even though he never really knew them. He remembered that late October night when the fire blazed and consumed his home and his family within. Why was he an exception? Why was he so lucky? Why couldn't he have died instead of them. His sister, his loving mother, his father. Gone. The more he thought about it the more he became upset. He tried to change the subject that seemed to scar his mind. He remembered what his father said to him when he was 14.

'I love you son.' he remembered him saying as he gave him a package.

'What is it?' he remembered asking.

'I think it's about time you learn how to shoot.'
Jericho came back to reality and remembered the revolver that his father had gave him. Jericho learned how to shoot and with deadly efficiency. He once took out 6 tin cans on a fence post without having to reload in a matter of 3 seconds; to him it was an amazing feat. In the distance he saw a little speck down the road. It was a town. Jericho felt exhausted from all of the riding and his horse, obviously, was tired too.

As he entered the town he could hear the noisy pub's piano music along with men laughing and shouting. He hitched his horse outside, wanting to get a drink He walked inside, still thinking about his family. It was full with cigar smoke and women with exposing clothing. Jericho took a seat at the bar table as the bar tender walked over to him.

“Hey, what'd you like?”

“Scotch, please.”

The bar tender nodded and went to go get a bottle. At that very moment three men walked in, looking somewhat already drunk, and sat down at one of the open tables. The bartender came back with a shot glass and a bottle. He set it down in front of Jericho as he poured the alcohol into the small glass. Jericho took a sip; he took his time with his alcohol. The barkeep leaned on the bar table and looked Jericho in the eye.

“I've never seen your face here before.” he told him with a perplexed face “You come in this morning?”

“I did indeed.” was all Jericho replied with as he took another sip of his scotch.

“Well, I didn't mean to offend, it's just we really don't get new people in here a lot.”

“Interesting.” Jericho responded again, trying to focus on other matters.

“Hell, the only people who ever stop here are those who have a desire for women or bullet wounds.” he laughed. Jericho was hardly paying any attention. “I'm sorry, I'm not trying to bother you, I just haven't had anybody to talk to for a while. Well, no, I take that back. There was that one girl who got lost in town. She wanted to know if there was a fur trader. I mean really, in all my years I've never once heard of a lady asking for such a thing. The only thing ladies 'round here are know for are making a man feel happy.” He laughed again.

“Really, is that so?” asked Jericho who couldn't care less about the conversation.

“And I remember this one time,” he went on “that a man tried to rob me. Sheesh! Can you believe that? Little did he know that he was messing with a natural gun slinger. Shoot, mister, what about you? Tell me about yourself.”

Jericho sighed heavily. Why couldn't he just drink in peace? He looked up to the man, setting his glass down.

“Alright,” he said “I wander the desert finding odd jobs and things to sell to make a living. I've shot outlaws for money and I've transported people to towns like a bodyguard. I have no family, no friends, no enemies. It's just me, my horse, and my revolver.”

“Well, s**t mister that sounds like a rather odd life for a fellow like yourself.”

Jericho didn't bother replying. He paid his tab, got up and left the pub irritated. He headed over to his horse.

“Please!” he heard down the dusty street “Not my daughter! Anything besides her!”

“It seems though that I have everything besides her. Unless you have what you owe me....”

“I don't owe you anything! I've never owed you anything! Please, don't take my daughter! Please!”

Jericho turned his head to see what was going on. He saw a man on a horse with a woman tied up sitting on it as well. She had a gag in her mouth preventing her from speaking. The other man who was begging was on his knees.

“Pay me what you owe and you can have her back.” the man said “In the meanwhile though-” he smelt her hair; she tried to scream. “-she'll keep me and my boys company.”

“No! Please!” the man on his knees cried.

The man on the horse rode off into the distance, leaving the man on the ground crying. Jericho walked over to him, not saying a word. Just watching him cry. Just like he did when he saw his family died in the flaming house. The man looked up at him with eyes drowned by tears and sorrow.

“Please....” he said “...My daughter...Please...”

Jericho knelt down besides him.

“Where is he taking her?” Jericho asked.

“To his gang hideout, just a few miles east. Please, help me.”

Jericho nodded.

“Alright.” he said. “I'll get her back.”

The man continued to cry, regardless of Jericho's promise. Jericho got up and went for his horse.

After riding a little while, Jericho saw the hideout. It looked like an abandoned pub, just like the pub he was just in, but perhaps a little bigger and definitely less pleasant. He rode over to the abandoned pub as the sound of music grew loader. He rode as the sun was still beating down. Dust was going every which way it wanted to. For some reason, Jericho felt more important than he had in years.

When he finally got there he hitched his horse outside and entered the pub. He noticed men inside drinking and even a few dancing to the music.

“Hey.” Jericho said.

Nobody even noticed he was there.

“Hey!”he yelled even loader.

Nothing.

Jericho drew his revolver and shot the record player. The music stopped along with everyone inside the pub. All eyes were on him. Jericho noticed the man who stole the girl was sitting in a table with his legs kicked up, simply watching Jericho, as if amused. One of the men stood up acting like he was going to do something. Jericho instantly turned and aimed at him.

“You best sit the hell back down.” he told him. He did as Jericho told him.

“Mr. Matthew,” one of the men said to the man who kidnapped the girl “You want us to take care of him for you?”

Matthew raised his hand as if telling him to hold off for a moment. He kicked his feet off the table and got up from his chair. He walked into the center of the room, facing Jericho.

“Kid, you got some balls.” He told Jericho who still had his revolver in hand.

“You might want to tell me where the girl is or you just might lose your own.”
“Is that what this is about?” Matthew laughed. He headed for the staircase that led upstairs. “Kill'em. Let me know when you boys get rid of his body.”

With that, Matthew left Jericho with 5 other men to fight. The men drew their guns as Jericho flipped a table over for cover. He hid behind it as a few bullets went flying above him. With a quick motion, Jericho got up and shot at one of the men. A bullet went through his head as he fell back lying dead on the floor. Jericho quickly ducked back down, avoiding a hail of revolver and magnum fire. Once more, he popped up and took a shot at another man. A bullet hit his chest which was where his heart was. As the man clenched his bloody chest he let out a scream of pain. He fell over on his face. As more bullets went towards Jericho, he ran across the pub and dove over the counter of the bar table. Luckly, he wasn't hit. The bullets stopped. Jericho heard them shoving bullets into their guns. Jericho jumped up and released his remaining three bullets at the three men in one swift motion, as if they we like the tin cans he once shot at. One got hit in the shoulder falling over yelling in pain as did another who was shot in the shin, bleeding out on the floor. The third's gun was shot out of his grasp. He raised his hands up surrendering. Jericho motioned him to leave, which he did immediately after.

With his gun empty, Jericho reloaded his revolver with a plethora of bullets he kept in his pouch. He turned around to see Matthew behind him. He came back down as soon as he heard the screaming of his own men.

“You think you won?” he asked Jericho as he pulled out his gun and aimed it at him.

Jericho aimed his at him as well. There was a pause. Nobody moved.

“All I want is the girl.” Jericho softly.

“You can have her over my dead body.”

Jericho shot him in the head unexpectedly.

“In that case,” he said “I'll take her off your hands.”

He ran upstairs to find her tied up lying on the floor, still with a gag in her month. Jericho took it out as she thanked him. He untied the ropes around her wrists and ankles. They walked out of the pub and got onto his horse.

“Did my father send you?” she asked him as they rode towards town.

“I guess you could say that.” Jericho relied. “I felt bad. Nobody desires to lose there loved ones if it can be prevented.”

“That's very noble of you, Mr.-”

“Jericho.” he said to her.

“Well, Mr. Jericho, are you a law man?” she asked.

“No, ma'am I'm not.” he answered truthfully.

“Well, we could use one in our town. The last one left town a few weeks ago and ever since then we've been having troubles left and right. Would you like to take his place?”

“As a lawman?” Jericho said thinking “I'm not sure.”

“It would be much appreciated.”

“I'll think about it. But right now I'm sure your father is worried sick about you.”

She smiled as she held on to Jericho, traveling back to town as the sun still shined down on the desert sand.

Author's Note

Tell me what you thought

Reviews

[Zeph]

It's very well written, I loved this :D
however, I feel like maybe it could use a little more spacing, just a thought :)
keep up the good work

[unspokenguilt]

It's a very good read. I liked the character and you have nice imagery...I enjoyed it!

[mark slade]

not bad. you write adventure very well. i was wondering when someone was going to post a western on hee.