Rough Draft Scene 2 "Bounty"
Rough draft I wrote tonight of a portion of a story I'm in the process of writing. Was hard to write emotionally and for that, I think it may have come out crappy.
The sun smacked against Frank’s neck like the handle of his rifle. It was stiffening but he made no attempt to remedy the pain. His nervousness that would ease and creep up upon him before every kill was increasing. This one was unique. It was not the ordinary job and he regretted taking the job from Mandosa. Being a bounty hunter was supposed to be strictly business, and nothing about it personal. Yet, somewhere along the way it had become personal to Frank and most of all this job. The man he was going to kill had left him for dead with three bullets in his chest. Ruthless, murderer, outlaw. Frank stared out towards the ranch half a mile off and wondered if he was thinking of the man was about to kill or himself. A fact that he never realized until now was that the business of killing was going to sooner or later be personal. Frank couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Sure the job was his to do and justifiably so, but was it revenge?
It had been ten years since the last time he had seen the man he was about to kill. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the man’s name. All he had was a face. A face burned into his skull. As Frank approached the ranch he could see more clearly it was a humble place with a small barn and what looked to be a one room cabin. Mandosa had told him that the man had a family now. A wife and a son. Perhaps he had been redeemed.
“Stop thinking about it and get it done.” Frank told himself. He knew he was making it personal in a profession where it had to be strictly business. He could see a boy standing next to the barn looking towards him. He had been spotted. There was no turning back now even if he wanted to. The boy ran towards the small cabin. Frank stopped his horse and wiped his brow. Closed his eyes and thought deeply back to that day when he was shot in the chest. He wasn’t a bounty hunter then but a sheriff working on the border of Kansas. Sighing deeply he pushed his spur into the horse and rode quickly towards the ranch. If it were to be done, it was going to be done quick.
Frank jumped off his horse and walked slowly towards the cabin, not giving a care to the barn. The boy he had spotted from a distance ran out of the cabin and stopped still, staring at him. There was a moment of silence. Frank’s fingers slid towards his revolvers the same way they always did. The boy didn’t move. He was in a state of shock.
“This has nothing to do with you boy. Get out of here and never come back.” Frank said firmly. The boy gazed at him for a moment and Frank could see that he had just ruined the boy’s entire world. It had to be done. The boy took off towards the barn. Frank walked up to the cabin’s door and took out his revolver, holding it to his head and then moving away from the door. He walked past the window and looked in and could see the man sitting at the table, revolver loaded. The man looked different from what Frank had remembered. Older, wiser, and broken. The man looked at Frank and yelled “All I ask is for a fair fight. Leave my family alone.” Frank nodded and walked away from the cabin, standing now in between the cabin and the barn. There he stood, waiting. Waiting for the man’s final prayers to finish. Waiting for the man to try and run off. Waiting for the man to come out and meet his judgement. Frank knew now that this wasn’t business. It wasn’t justice. This was revenge.
The door to the cabin creaked open as the man came out. His pants were held up by only one suspender, his shirt ripped in many places. This was not a rich man even for all his bank robberies. He was poor and his most valued possession was his family. The man now stood twenty feet in front of Frank, his revolver at his side. Sweat and tears poured down his face. He looked at the barn and back at Frank knowing that no amount of words would save his family when he was gone.
‘Let’s get this over with.” The man said. Frank nodded and began to count.
“One…” Frank’s fingers twitched. “Two…” The man began reaching for his gun. “Thre-“ Frank cut his sentence short as both mother and son came out of the barn carrying rifles. He could hear the man cry out but it was only muffled by Frank’s own gunshots. He lifted the revolver from his left up and placed two bullets into the man, one in the chest and head. The man died instantaneously. From the right revolver Frank had shot the boy in the stomach sending him to the ground in pain. The boy’s rifle had gone off but only as he was falling, being no match for Frank’s years of killing. The mother got a close shot near Frank but she fell dead by the boy.
Blood poured out from the bullet wound in the boy’s stomach. Frank marched over slowly, the weight of the sun falling hard on him. The weight of the world was falling hard on him. The boy looked up at Frank with blood now seeping from his mouth. The boy could only mutter a few words through the pain.
“Why… revenge… money…” The boy’s body jerked with pain. Frank stared at the boy, lost in thought and anguish. The boy’s only crime was protecting that he loved and such was his mother’s. Frank looked the boy in the eyes as he lifted his right revolver and aimed it at the boy’s head.
“It wasn’t supposed to be personal.” Frank whispered, his finger squeezing the trigger and ending the boy’s life. He threw down his revolvers and fell to his knees, his eyes filled with sorrow. He could hardly breathe. He threw his hands over his face and broke down in tears. It wasn’t supposed to be personal. Frank fell upon his back and stared at the sun. He could feel his eyes burning, the tears pouring from them and as he removed his hands from his face he could see the blood of his fallen victims dripping. He closed his eyes and stood up.
Wiping the wet dirt from his face he thought of all the families he had done the same to in the past. The tragedies he had caused. He picked up his revolvers and set out for his horse, leaving the bodies where they lay. There was only one road of redemption for him now. That redemption lied with undoing the very thing he had come to live for. He set out to kill the bounty hunters.
The sun smacked against Frank’s neck like the handle of his rifle. It was stiffening but he made no attempt to remedy the pain. His nervousness that would ease and creep up upon him before every kill was increasing. This one was unique. It was not the ordinary job and he regretted taking the job from Mandosa. Being a bounty hunter was supposed to be strictly business, and nothing about it personal. Yet, somewhere along the way it had become personal to Frank and most of all this job. The man he was going to kill had left him for dead with three bullets in his chest. Ruthless, murderer, outlaw. Frank stared out towards the ranch half a mile off and wondered if he was thinking of the man was about to kill or himself. A fact that he never realized until now was that the business of killing was going to sooner or later be personal. Frank couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Sure the job was his to do and justifiably so, but was it revenge?
It had been ten years since the last time he had seen the man he was about to kill. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the man’s name. All he had was a face. A face burned into his skull. As Frank approached the ranch he could see more clearly it was a humble place with a small barn and what looked to be a one room cabin. Mandosa had told him that the man had a family now. A wife and a son. Perhaps he had been redeemed.
“Stop thinking about it and get it done.” Frank told himself. He knew he was making it personal in a profession where it had to be strictly business. He could see a boy standing next to the barn looking towards him. He had been spotted. There was no turning back now even if he wanted to. The boy ran towards the small cabin. Frank stopped his horse and wiped his brow. Closed his eyes and thought deeply back to that day when he was shot in the chest. He wasn’t a bounty hunter then but a sheriff working on the border of Kansas. Sighing deeply he pushed his spur into the horse and rode quickly towards the ranch. If it were to be done, it was going to be done quick.
Frank jumped off his horse and walked slowly towards the cabin, not giving a care to the barn. The boy he had spotted from a distance ran out of the cabin and stopped still, staring at him. There was a moment of silence. Frank’s fingers slid towards his revolvers the same way they always did. The boy didn’t move. He was in a state of shock.
“This has nothing to do with you boy. Get out of here and never come back.” Frank said firmly. The boy gazed at him for a moment and Frank could see that he had just ruined the boy’s entire world. It had to be done. The boy took off towards the barn. Frank walked up to the cabin’s door and took out his revolver, holding it to his head and then moving away from the door. He walked past the window and looked in and could see the man sitting at the table, revolver loaded. The man looked different from what Frank had remembered. Older, wiser, and broken. The man looked at Frank and yelled “All I ask is for a fair fight. Leave my family alone.” Frank nodded and walked away from the cabin, standing now in between the cabin and the barn. There he stood, waiting. Waiting for the man’s final prayers to finish. Waiting for the man to try and run off. Waiting for the man to come out and meet his judgement. Frank knew now that this wasn’t business. It wasn’t justice. This was revenge.
The door to the cabin creaked open as the man came out. His pants were held up by only one suspender, his shirt ripped in many places. This was not a rich man even for all his bank robberies. He was poor and his most valued possession was his family. The man now stood twenty feet in front of Frank, his revolver at his side. Sweat and tears poured down his face. He looked at the barn and back at Frank knowing that no amount of words would save his family when he was gone.
‘Let’s get this over with.” The man said. Frank nodded and began to count.
“One…” Frank’s fingers twitched. “Two…” The man began reaching for his gun. “Thre-“ Frank cut his sentence short as both mother and son came out of the barn carrying rifles. He could hear the man cry out but it was only muffled by Frank’s own gunshots. He lifted the revolver from his left up and placed two bullets into the man, one in the chest and head. The man died instantaneously. From the right revolver Frank had shot the boy in the stomach sending him to the ground in pain. The boy’s rifle had gone off but only as he was falling, being no match for Frank’s years of killing. The mother got a close shot near Frank but she fell dead by the boy.
Blood poured out from the bullet wound in the boy’s stomach. Frank marched over slowly, the weight of the sun falling hard on him. The weight of the world was falling hard on him. The boy looked up at Frank with blood now seeping from his mouth. The boy could only mutter a few words through the pain.
“Why… revenge… money…” The boy’s body jerked with pain. Frank stared at the boy, lost in thought and anguish. The boy’s only crime was protecting that he loved and such was his mother’s. Frank looked the boy in the eyes as he lifted his right revolver and aimed it at the boy’s head.
“It wasn’t supposed to be personal.” Frank whispered, his finger squeezing the trigger and ending the boy’s life. He threw down his revolvers and fell to his knees, his eyes filled with sorrow. He could hardly breathe. He threw his hands over his face and broke down in tears. It wasn’t supposed to be personal. Frank fell upon his back and stared at the sun. He could feel his eyes burning, the tears pouring from them and as he removed his hands from his face he could see the blood of his fallen victims dripping. He closed his eyes and stood up.
Wiping the wet dirt from his face he thought of all the families he had done the same to in the past. The tragedies he had caused. He picked up his revolvers and set out for his horse, leaving the bodies where they lay. There was only one road of redemption for him now. That redemption lied with undoing the very thing he had come to live for. He set out to kill the bounty hunters.