The Will To Live

I am alone. The breeze through the Aspen leaves over my head is relaxng. And I wish to pause, but dare not. For I know they will return. Swishing my canteen, there's not much left and I am thirsty, but refrain from giving in.

The sound of hoof beats sends me running again. I head upwards. If they want me, I am not going to make it easy for them. They are going to have to work for the prise.

I stay amongst the rocks and trees. Going places no horse can follow. And always upward. A rifle shot rings out, but it doesn't come anywhere near me. So, I do not stop or even pause, I keep on the move.

At the top of the ridge I turn and run along it. Heading deeper into the mountains, where I feel at home.

Down below me I can see them gather pointing upwards. Whether they can see me or not I do not know. But, I am getting mighty tired of this chase.

I pause to check the flesh wound in my right side. It is painful as hell and does not hamper my ability to run. I am thankful the bleeding has stopped for the most part.

What caused them to shoot and give chase? I have no clue. I was in town an houor at the most and I talked to a few people while gathering my supplies. Now, they sat useless to me. pined under my horse that those chasing me had killed.

The ridge dipped downwards towards a long valley running between two mountains. From here, I can see a fast running creek down the middle, covered by bushes and trees. Some of them leaning over to form a canopy of sorts. Just the place I wanted to be to stay under under cover. If I could reach this, I might stand a better chance to lose myself.

Chewing on a piece of jerky from out of my pocket, I washed it down with a swig from my canteen. Then I continued on glad to have the breeze.

At the bottom of the ridge I am still thirty feet above the valley's floor. I have to climb through a rock fall and some of them are of immense size. I take my time, but know I do not have the time to spare. Because a broken leg or worse would be my death sentence.

Finally, after an hour's worth of careful climbing, I stood on the valley floor. But, I lost my canteen during the climb. It fell and smashed beyond use. I dog trot until reaching the creek. Which I quickly enter and start to follow upstream. Hoping whatever tracks I happen to make, be washed over by the current and shifting bottom.

Inside the canopy it is cooler for which I am thankful. Though, soon enough, my feet and legs beging to numb from the snow fed water. This I must endure, being it is a matter of life and death. Mine!

I wade for over an hour before I find what I am looking for. A rock hanging a foot over the creek bank. It is flat and large enough on which to rest. I take advantage of it to take stock of myself. It has been over twenty four hours now that I have been on the run.

I see to my wound. I wash the blood away and out of the handkerchief, and bandage it back up. I feel for my kniffe and six gun. Both are with still me. My rifle is still in the saddleboot under my horse. These hand weapons would have to do for survival and I have before.

Closing my eyes for only a moment to rest I fall asleep and wake hours later. Damn. I had only wanted to rest. Not let my persuers gain precious miles and time amd me.

I start to move and instantly stop. Horses and voices were close by and moving. I strain to hear, but it only results in mumbling reaching my ears. I dare not move and so, I waited anxiously.

Soon enough I could them no longer. But, still I waited. I drink from the creek and it is cold and refreshing. I wish I still had my canteen.

Half an hour later I enter the creek again and continue. This time with more caution. Those who are chasing have somehow followed me into this valley. At anytime one could break through to the creek and find me.

It seems like forever I have been on the run and I have covered many miles. How they made it into this valley so quickly is beyond me? They must know of trails which I do not. I went overland.

Soon I would run out of daylight and I must look for a place in which to hide. I also neeeded to find out what was happening around me. I needed height. Through the canopy I spy an Oak tree. One close enough that some of it's branches overlap the creekbed. I found my chance to see my surroundings.

I push through the brush as careful as I can. No one seems to be around, but looks can be decieving at times and I have been screwed over in the past for not being cautious.

The lowest branches are seven to eight feet above ground and I must jump to reach them. Now, normally this would not be much of a challenge. But, with this wound in my side. This could be a little difficult to acomplish.

On the third try I caught and hung on with all my might. For I did't think I had a fourth jump in me. I climbed as far as I dared until I reached some forty feet off the ground.

Back towards where I had entered the valley, smoke drifted upwards lazily on the wind. I knew now where their camp was at least for tonight and that suited my purposes. It gave me a ten hour head start, more or less. And you can be sure I was going to take advantage of the time giving me.

Climbing back down was a hell of a lot easier than climbing up and faster too. Once on the ground I entered the creek and made my way as fast as I could. Near the end of the valley I paused before existing the creek. Making sure none was near, I left and started climbing the mountain before me.

Up and up I went, trying to leave as little tracks as possible. I found a tree branch of five feet in length and used this as a walking stick. It made the climbing somewhat easier. Besides the fact it was another weapon. Halfway up the side of the mountain, a jackrabbit jumped up from under my feet and strickly from reflex, I swung the walking stick and scored a hit, killing it. Now all I needed was a campfire and I would be all set.

I gutted the rabbit on the spot and then moved off. Hopefully in a few hours a passing carnivore would find themselves an easy meal and help cover my passing tracks. I came to a ridge of rock in layers, maybe fifteen to twenty feet thick running the length of this mountain. This I did not anticipate, but I knew I could overcome it eventually.

I saw what looked like a way that might just work and the best thing is that it went away from my persuers. My back trail sort of petered out, so I climbed up on some rocks and made my way towards the rock ledge. Stepping carefully I tried not to leave any scrape marks from my run down boots.

At the end of the rocks was a five foot open space. If I stretched I could reach the ledge, but if I jumped maybe three feet. Maybe, just maybe. I could land on my good side and not leave any marks. What other choice did I have?

Stepping back a few feet I ran, jumped and launched myself. I landed five inches back from the edge and I rolled another foot before a rock stopped my progress. I paused to catch my breath and slowly got on my feet, and traveled as far as I could on this ledge. Climbing three feet up I rerached the next one and this is how I traveled for over five miles. Ledge upon ledge and always upwards.

Soon I came to the end, and into a Cedar forest that turned into Pines. Under a large tree with droopy branches that reached the ground I stopped and made a small fire to cook the rabbit. I ate it all and buried the evidence afterwards. Rabbit bones and ashes.

I came to a trickle of water heading downward and I followed it up to it's source. From out of a pile of rocks it trickled and then fell three inches before continuing on. I paused to drink my full before leaving. Getting up, I turned and stared back at the three mounted Indians staring at me.

Slowly, I raised my hand in show of friendship and their leader returned it. He spoke to those with him and they turned to leave. The leader yelled something out loud towards me and dropped a small sack on the ground, then rode away.

I waited ten minutes and they did not return. I picked up the bag and continued on my way. Figuring I could look inside the bag as easily on the move as standing still I did so. It was pemmican. I shoved it inside my vest pocket and looked for a place to spend the night five hours later.

A slash in the side of the mountain looked promising and I entered with caution. No horse could make it through here. I had to climb over and around rocks myself. Back a hundred feet I could no longer see the opening and turning around I saw it. A natural water tank holding ten to twenty gallons of water and more importantly, no tracks of any kind.

Under an overhang I made a fire and really relaxed for the first time in a couple of days. With pemmican and water I could set for a week and make those wonder what happened to me. I doubted anyone of them could find this spot. I didn't have to go far for wood, it had traveled down from above.

Banking the fire I drank deep from the tank and closed my eyes to sleep. A cold wind came down through that slash and I was thankful for that fire. The walls of rock radiated the heat back and I was pretty comfortable.

Morning dawned shooting reds and yellows through the gray, as the sun climbed higher in the sky. An Eagle screamed out announcing it's presence and rode away on the wind currents. I added a small branch and taking some pemmican I leaned back thinking.

The one thing I was sure of was, I was damned tired of running and hiding. I made up my mind. I would rest a few days and then it was my time to hunt. But, I needed a rifle bad. With one I could shoot at a distance. Now, I had to be fairly close to kill and I was in a killing mood. More and more with each passing hour and I knew right where to find one.

For three days I sat besides my fire and waited. Over those days I bathed my feet. Resting them for when I began the chase. On the fourth day I put out the firre and I existed the canyon.

Cautiously I looked and went to look down into the valley. Surprisingly, they were still there or at least some of them were. Staying back from the edge I headed in their direction, keeping to the cover of the Cedars. My clothing of tan's and brown's blended into the surroundings nicely.

I would move and then stop. Never repeating the same movements, varying my times of moving and stopping. The rest of the day I stalked them and moved ever closer. At times I would watch them send out riders looking for me and not once did any get close. Too bad.

By nightfall I could clearly see into their camp, and smell the coffee and cook pot. My stomach growled over the roasting venison stew. I inched closer and soon was only fifty yards away, but most of it was straight up. If I had wanted to, I could have shot six of them with ease. Of course, my place of concealment would be exposed and so, I waited.

By three o'clock most were passed out and only one lone guard was away from the campfire. I made my move having climbed down the rockcliff as careful as possible, trying to not make a sound. I must have succeeded somewhat for he didin't a thing until I was right behind him.

He turned and I hit him in the face breaking his nose and teeth. He staggered backwards and I went after him swinging. I ended it when he started drawing his six shooter. I jammed the end of the stick into his throat killing him. My walking stick made quite a weapon

I picked up the rifle, a Winchester .44 and it was fully loaded. I took the gun belt from around his waist as well and would soon retreat to my safe spot. But, first I created some terror for them to find when they woke. Guess they shouldn't be sleeping so sound.

Full of stew and coffee I retreated to wait for the fun. Dawn broke through the gloom of night and those below me started to stir. With a smile upon my face I waited and soon the screaming began. And the smile grew broader. Someone had found my surprises.

During my time in camp I had slit the throats of four and wanting to leave them a message they would not forget, cut off the head of one and stuck it on a rifle I jammed into the ground.

I waited until they had settled down and then started shooting. And I was not making any wounding shots. I had killing on my mind. Those that tried to reach the horses I took down after the first shot. A fully loaded Winchester can make someone's life miserable.

I waited ten minutes after the last shot, surveying the from above. Then I climbed down and made my way into the killing field. The sight did not bother me one little bit. They started the dance and I finished it.

There was a grisly detail to attend to and I got it done as quickly as possible. Their pockets netted me almost five hundred dollars and I would put it to good use. Their guns I figure would net another couple hundred, if I decided to sell them. Not to mention the horses. But, the more I thought on it, I would keep them and use them to start my horse ranch.

Those horses did not like having the bodies that once rode them now tied over the saddles. Gathering up the best, I chose him to ride and I started back towards that town. It took a day to get there, for I now had to travel where horses could only go.

The good citizens were out in numbers as I slowly rode down main street. I stopped in front of the Marshal's Office and waited for his fat lazy butt to come waddling out. The look of horror upon his face was well worth waiting for.

One by one I untied them bodies and let them drop. The horses rein's I tied to my saddle and after the last one had been dealt with I begin to speak.

"I rode into this town a week ago for supplies and a meal, one I didn't have to cook. I caused no harm or trouble to anyone. Your good citizens beat the hell out of me and shot me down for no reason. Then, they chased me all over the mountains southwest of here. Killing a good horse and denying me those supplies."

I paused to take a drink from the canteen on my horse and continued, "After I had had enough I started hunting them. They brought it on themselves. There they are Marshal. Bury them. They lost whatever they had on them for payment for my loss. You are a pathetic excuse for a man and lawman. You should have stopped this before it got this far. You do not deserve the right to wear that badge. I am getting supplies and riding out of here again. The town can pay for them, as I refuse."

No one spoke then or two hours later when I drove my new wagon out of town, loaded to the max, followed by a string of spirited horses that now included three fine looking mares. This time I was heading back into the mountains, but by my choice.