~The only sound ,to be heard, as the mad man laughs...~
~Josiah saddled his horse early in the morning, before the sun had risen, that next day, he didn't want to have anyone wake up and see him leave or ask questions. On top of that the horse wasn't his. He had borrowed it from the farm stables. It wasn't a race horse, but it was worth, a good $200 or so. Just as he began to canter down the dirt road , he heard a voice. "Aye, boy! Where youse headed off now, this time, o' day?"
Josiah wheeled the horse around to face Floyd. The old man must have gone to sleep earlier that usual, to wake up, this early. He shuffled over to Josiah's horse and grabbed a rein. "I'm just going to get provisions old man. Youse is gettin' paranoid."
"I ain't paranoid, nor, am I's a senile. I may be old. But I sure as hell know the look o' a man, who is plannin' a dark deed, when I's sees' one!" Josiah pulled the reins from the old mans hands, unerved.
"Im goin' for provisions." Even so Floyd's words unerved the man.
"Just promise me... You won't do anything stupid." The old man said.
"I won't." He lied, before, turning his horse and cantering down the road. He waved over his shoulder. He didn't want to look the old man in the eye and feel guilty. His rage... He would get her redemption.
Josiah traveled through town and stopped by, the local, Inn to pick up some dried meat and a bottle of whiskey. It wasn't that he was an alcoholic. The water he had was more for his horse. The whiskey would keep him going when the water ran out. And besides. He would need a little bit of courage for this ordeal. If he couldn't do this, then he didn't deserve, her.
He road out of town and headed towards Horace's new place of living. It would be his grave.
Josiah was not a woodsman. He was a farmer, turned, gunsmith. His hand rested on the butt of his pistol, the other, held the reins of his horse. All the while he stayed off the dirt roads. He didn't need anyone saying that they had seen him traveling down the road the day after he had committed "The Crime". He didn't think he looked too suspicious, he wore, an old cowboy hat and a dusty shirt, with wool pants and suspenders. Josiah looked like the average traveler.
His hands were sweaty though and he was barely a day and a half , towards his destination, and he was already getting nervous. He knuckled his head, growling, and took out his bottle of whiskey. He uncorked it and took a good draught from it.
After a few minutes the potent liquid, gave him a quicker step, and a fire that needed to be drowned in vengance. He spurred his horse and continued on, late into the night.~
~Is like a concave scream...~
