Yearned for
People define freedom in many different ways, but freedom meant only one thing to William O’Brien. Riding his horse across the endless plains, the sun at his back and wind in his face, the world stretched out before him. This freedom is what he yearned for, longed for. When the nights grew cold and deep, he remembers days of easy living, riding shotgun on the westbound stages. The pay was good and he enjoyed the entertainment of the city folk. Newcomers, someone had once called them. So out of their element in a land he felt comfortable in.
The low hills and washes passed for miles, and from any near rise you could see for the next two weeks. Buffalo still roamed in herds and he was friendly with an Indian or two, though not too friendly. Will had earned his keep as a ranch hand, stage driver, hired gun, bartender, and even spent a whole month escorting a rich family from St. Louis to Denver.
He smiled as he remembered their little boy and his dreams of becoming a real life cowboy someday. The mother did not approve, but Will had let that little boy hold his unloaded gun. A Colt 45 with a pearl grip. It was Will’s father’s gun. The gun his father had held in his hand the night that bastard John Davis had shot him through the heart over a game of cards.
Will was not the kind of man to forgive or forget and the day will come when he’ll have his revenge. Then, and only then, will he lay down his father’s gun for the last time.
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