An Outlaw's Redemption

Chapter Thirteen

Early Spring 1860

War? That hardly seemed possible. Rumors had been going around for months that the southern states were going to succeed from the union, but Weston found it hard to believe that the entire country would be at war over it. Still, rumors like that would cause the nation harm whether they were true or not. War wasn't much good for business either...with military troops around or folks up on their guard, it would be nearly impossible to rob anyone. He didn't have much time to worry about such matters now, however; there were far too many other pressing issues at hand. Like outriding the posse of Rangers behind him.

He'd been riding long and hard for hours, ever since he robbed the train, pushing Santana to his max. His old horse began to give out near the edge of the boarder. Weston patted his friend gently on the neck, "Come on, boy...just a little further, then you can rest."

With his master's encouragement, the old, saddle worn Santana ran with all his heart over the boarder...and it was there that the magnificent stead, who had been with the outlaw more than a decade, collapsed. His heart had finally run out and he had given all he had to give.

Weston's weight flew forward off of his saddle as Santana's knee's buckled and he sunk to the sand below. Weston scurried over quickly to his companion and cradled his head in his lap; carefully petting his mane and rubbing his face. A tear trickled from his eye, "I'm sorry, old friend...you can rest now."

As Santana's eyes flickered close, the large horse released one final breath. Weston wrapped his head in his arms and wept. Besides Jimmy, Santana was his truest friend...he didn't care that his master was famous or wanted, all he desired was to be with him. Friendships like that only come along once in a lifetime.

Wiping his eyes, Weston stood and removed the saddle and gear from his back. He didn't have time for a burial...he didn't even have time for a proper goodbye.

As he turned from Santana to run, one of the Rangers shot him in the back. Falling over Santana's lifeless body, Weston winced from the pain as he heard a man from behind him exclaim, "Travis! He's not on our side of the boarder!"

Another yelled, "I always knew you'd be one to shoot a man in the back!"

They argued amongst themselves for a moment, long enough for Weston to roll himself over and shield his body behind Santana. Withdrawing his gun, he aimed it at the posse and warned through gritted teeth, "I'd ride on, boys."

The Texas Ranger glanced at the outlaw and nodded, "You'll be dead by morning if you don't let us help you."

Weston spit blood from his mouth, "H—help me? You just did this to me! What kind of lawman shoots a person in the back?"

The Texas Ranger shook his head, "That was a mistake, son. Let us correct it."

Weston scoffed, "Yeah, patch me up just to hang me later!"

Not taking no for an answer, the Texas Ranger said, "Joe, you ride with William and leave me your horse."

The man looked skeptical, but he obeyed, and handed the reins to his fellow lawman. As he took hold of the reins, he told the rest of the posse to head back; then sat there staring at the outlaw, with his hands resting firmly on his saddle horn, "I'll take you to a doctor...on that side of the border."

Weston frowned, "And why would you do that?"

The Ranger smirked, "Call it professional courtesy."

He kicked his horse forward, "You don't have enough time to argue with me about this. Shoot me if you want, we'll die together that way."

Weston was in too much pain to fight as the Ranger neared him and slid down off his horse. Glancing at his badge, the Ranger removed it and tucked it into his pocket, "Best no one on this side see's that."