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Give Your Heart to God

By Huste


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"Give your heart to God, because your ass is mine" Huste
said as he looked down the sights of his rifle. His quarry
had fear and defeat in his eyes because he knew Huste meant to
kill him. And for just reason. Not only had he stolen Huste's
money and horses; he had murdered Huste's wife and daughter.
His life was useless.

"Crandall, if you believe in any kind of an afterlife, or have
any beliefs in a God, you better make your peace with it now
because you're about to meet it." Huste's steel blue eyes flashed
as he spoke. His voice low and hands steady showed the resolve
that had kept him alive for 25 rough, weathered years. "My wife
and daughter did nothing to you. They just happened to be home
alone. You were looking for me, not them. You should have left
them alone and kept looking for me. You would have had a chance
to live that way. This way, you have none." The sound of the
rifle cracked the silence as the life left Crandall's eyes.

Huste's stepped back and looked out over the horizon. His thoughts
drifted back to the cabin where he had found his family. His
mind replayed the scene he saw as he entered the cabin. A cold
shiver went down his spine as he looked back at Crandall. He spat.

He walked to the stream to quench his parched throat and try to
clean his face with the cool clear water. It tasted good and helped
his throat a lot but didn't do his face much good. The sweat, trail
dust, and years of sun dried skin was what he needed on him now. He
saw his reflection in the clear water and realized he was on the
warpath again. The reflection was the same one that he saw during the
Civil War. A reflection of what he had become, not what he had been
taught to be. A man that had relied on instinct more than teaching.
An animal created in the name of humanity. His fingers raked the
red clay from the back and drew the infamous, terror-inducing slash
marks across his face from above the right eye to below the left cheek
bone. He stood up and walked toward Koda. He mounted and pointed Koda north.

Koda began the familiar trail trot that had carried him and his companion
many miles in the past. It was a comfortable gate for both. Koda knew it
was going to be a long and empty future by the way Huste sat. The feeling
was for distance and comfort. Koda prepared for a trail that could lead
anywhere and might end in death for him and his companion. But the gate
was familiar, the trail was not unfamiliar, and Koda had faith in his
companion. They had been together for many seasons and Huste had never abused
or let him go to long without food and water. Yes, the journey was familiar.
Koda felt secure: Huste felt confident, and the rest of Crandall's gang had
better feel afraid because Huste had lost his wife, daughter, money, and horses
and had nothing else to lose. Huste and Koda were on the warpath again, and
Crandall's gang were going to die.


Tha, Tha, Tha, That's all folks.........