~The only sound ,to be heard, as the mad man laughs...~
~Authors Note: Sorry about the stuff I bolded. Thats just details for me to be able to remember and crap like that. Writing a storie is only difficult because it is annoying to keep track of character bios, and town names, last names... All that fun stuff. This all started out when LennonsBeatle(Hope I got that right. sweatdrop ) told me about her husband in Iraq. His name was Josiah. It was a big joke when I started the story. His name sounded western and could go with a gunslinger so I rolled from there with it. After that my girlfriend asked me to keep writing this and I enjoy messing around with this plot.
Josiah rode well through the night, traveling, through brush towards, Donnybrook, a small farming community just ten more miles in the east. For awhile he fell asleep with his chin touching his chest. The steady cantering of his horse had lulled him to sleep. Upon nearly falling out of his saddle he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took another draught of the whiskey. He would be there before mid-morning. But when he got there he would need a place to sleep. He had only risked taking eight dollars. The other two he had spent on the bottle of whiskey. The rest he would need for the horses water and feed. Maybe three dollars would cover his lodging.
He steadly knuckled his forehead and cursed himself for not thinking things through. So on he continued with only his own paranoid thoughts to keep him company through the night.
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The court hearing was long an arduous, even more so, with Josiah dehydrated and exhausted from the long walk there and the beatings beforehand. They had spared no time. Other than that he had no lawyer or defense to put up. The evidence was more than compelling. The accusation spoke in long bored tones, it was as if, he were bored with the case already. That was typically the case. People wanted to see a man hanged. Due to propaganda and word of mouth, Josiah Wilkinson was one of the largest criminals since, Billy The Kid.
The Lawyer was Gregory Atriskle. One of the most famous lawyers in the west. He was also known to be very crooked and ,rumoured to have ties to Congress.
"The defense is accused with the murders of Dr. Malcom Weatherson, Clyde Granshaw, Fredrick Carmicheal, Derick Vorance, and Benjamin Farmson. This is also acounted with ninety seven counts of murder suspected to be associated with your crimes." The lawyer said. This was typical. The number was too high. The other murders that he had "supposedly" committed were the people caught in the crossfire for harboring Josiah. Innocent people had died protecting him and some had deserved to die. No. He had killed most of the people that had wronged him and Clara. There was just General Vanderbooth and the crooked Lawyer that was putting him on trial at the moment.
"Does the defendant have any words to say to the people before his judgement is decided, before the Almighty?" The judge asked. General Vanderbooth stood behind with a smug expression on his face. He smiled over at Josiah. This only spurred his depths of rage.
Josiah looked from the General to the people and finally to the judge. "I have ma' self a few things to say. For one I just wanted to pray to god that one day, someone will come along, and pull that stick out youse a** for youse." Josiah said chuckling. This rewarded him with an uproar from the people present and the butt of a rifle to his jaw. He spat out a mouthful of bloody phlegm and straightened himself. "And second. I's jus' wanted to say that I will get my justice in this, life, or the next. Though I'll warn youse I most likely will be gettin' it in this life." He promised. "Thas' all I gots to say to youse." Josiah muttered.
The judge shook his head. "Those are some mighty large words boy." He turned and looked at the papers on his desk. "I sentence the defendant Josiah Wilkinson, to hang, by rope till he is pronounced dead by a licensced physician." The judge announced. Josiah sighed. He honestly had no plans on how to get out of this one. The man had gotten out of tougher scrapes than this. So he thought. It seemed that this one was the one to get him.
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Josiah cantered through the town to a nearby stable and payed the man to take his horse ,buying feed and water while there, when the horse was taken off to the stable he went with it and stayed there, pretending to go to groom it. In all actuallity, he layed down, on the straw and slept there till the sun began to set with his horse.
When the time came about he saddled the horse and clambered on it, riding it, further into to town. He had a rough, general idea of were Benny was situated. Hopefully there was a sign or two that would lead him to Benny's farm. It took him an extra three hours just to find Benny without getting directions to his farm. He was forced to go to the front of each farm and check the name on the mailbox and move on if it was not that one. By the time he had reached Benny's house he was exhausted. Even so when he got there his rage, made his blood, boil. This gave him a renewed energy as he hopped, lightly, off his horse. His legs were pretty stiff. He probably wouldn't need to move that fast, considering, how fat Benny was when Josiah was a child.
Josiah made sure that the house was Benny's ,once more, before he made his move. He crept along the back of the small house to one of the back windows and checked it. None of them were locked lucky to him. This would be relatively simple. As was true to nature of farmers, they never had, any locks on the windows. In a small community, who needed to, worry? Benny did... Also lucky for him, when the sun went down, farmers went to sleep not long after. Josiah drew his pistol from his belt and pushed open the window slowly. He slid inside and slid the window shut behind him, moving, on the tips of his toes. Luckily, he could hear a loud snoring coming from the bedroom. Josiah moved through the house quietly, wincing, every time a floorboard groaned from his weight. He moved towards the source of the noise. With a white knuckle grip on his pistol, he pushed open, the door. Benny lay on his bed with a bottle of whiskey cradled in an arm, his fat, stomach rising and falling with his shuddering breaths. The man was so large that he had trouble sleeping on his own, let along, on his back. Good. He wasn't going to wake up anytime soon.
Josiah walked over and leaned next to the fat man, watching him sleep, the b*****d slept so good without any trouble. Josiah stepped on top of the bed and placed a knee in the mans chest, sitting atop him, lightly. It was just to make it harder for him to breath. Even a drunk man would stir at this. Josiah tapped his forehead with the barrel of his pistol. "Old man. Wake up." He muttered. Benny reached over with a hand and pushed the barrel of the gun away and moved to roll over. Josiah shoved his hand away and pushed him back down with his knee. "Wake up Benny." Josiah said a little louder. The old man stirred a bit and opened his eye. Josiah pressed the barrel of the gun into his eye a little harder. "Wake up Benny." The old man woke up. His first reaction was to shout. Josiah shoved the barrel of the gun into his mouth. Benny's eyes grew wide and frantic. Apparently he had sobered up very quickly. "Ready to be quite Benny?" The old man nodded. Josiah slowly took the barrel of gun from the old mans mouth.
"Who is youse? What youse wants?" He asked shaking.
"I'm here to bring some redemption to Clara." Josiah muttered.
"That little b***h! I'll ki-" Josiah backhanded him in the face.
"Shut yer mouth Benny. Nows the time for me to ask the questions and youse to do the talkin'." Benny shut his mouth. He was terrified and quite drunk still. "I can't believe you don't know whom I am." Josiah muttered in exasperation. "Are you sure I don't bring back any memories?"
The old man still had no clues as to whom he was. He rolled his shoulders and dug his knee into Benny's chest. "You shouldn't have done those things. Your a monster Benny."
"I don't know what your talkin' about! Who are you! I always treated Clara good!" He said in his defense. Josiah shook his head. "What about all those bruises she had? Your son tried to stick up for her and he got himself beat on too. No this is the end of you Benny. No more of scum like youse walkin' round' this world, wastin' air." Josiah pressed the barrel of the gun to Benny's forehead. "It's me. Josiah... Josiah Wilkinson." Benny shook his head.
"I know you! I know you!" Josiah sighed and pulled the trigger. There was a loud blast. The gun bounced and blood flecked on Josiah's face. The bullet passed through Benny's head and through the bed. His body shuddered and went stiff. Josiah climbed off the bed before the blood could soak into his pant legs. He climbed back out of the window and climbed onto his horse and headed back home.~
~Is like a concave scream...~
