A Bloody Bloody Mess In The Wild Wild West Page 2

  The simple after effect of the war was obvious but it was the one that cannot be stressed enough that the town of Toomswood needed to be aware of. It is one thing to overcome but to overcome once again because of something so devilishly sinister is a concept to which no person nor town could ever imagine themselves being in. Only a small portion of Toomswood’s men served in the war because remember the rest of the men were quote on quote not fit to partake in such an event. This would be a good factor in the sense that the town would not have to come face to face with those they once knew and had to mourn.

  Reconstruction was a hard thing given all there was to work around. Although the

  proclamation had been made, slavery was still very much a lingering factor in the country. It caused controversy, turmoil and even death as the sheer bitterness of some people was too much for them to swallow. Even though they once worked side by side, slavery had almost gone back to its origins. It cast a shadow to both north and south.

  Even though the north was more sympathetic, it was still a cause of concern after the war’s end. Many slaves who fought found themselves free only to be taken out yet again by society’s ignorance and disdain. Some of these fallen slaves would get a second chance to redeem themselves and get revenge among those who treated them so poorly when alive because they too would be resurrected since some had become soldiers.

  When it all came together, the slavery, the financial spiral and the constant rebuilding of everything else it made everyone wonder if there would be anything to look forward to in the times to come. It seemed it would just not be how anyone would ever imagine. Stores were still being robbed, houses still set afire and men still dueled in the streets, sometimes not even because of argument but rather for simple sport and the need for an inner rush. This reveal left the streets of all towns with suspicion and worry. Not knowing who was good and who was bad just made things all the uglier.

  Chaos and disaster still reigned supreme, despite the war being over. But because of this, the war would not be an afterthought but would seem to live on through rebellion and hate. Ugliness and bitterness seemed to cast a dark cloud upon many of the townspeople. Some just wanted to forget others did not want to forget, and many had no choice but to not forget. It ate them alive on the inside and the only way to get by was to do things only the devil would approve of.

  Hard times had passed and everyone knew that in order to get their lives back in order, they all had to come together as one and take it all on until they were whole but again they just didn’t seem to care. They knew what had to be done to return to solidarity and reasonable living conditions but actually wanting to was one thing and achieving it was another and would not be easy in the slightest.

  The chaos that would erupt was inevitable due to the simple fact that Toomswood’s lack of change and not very speedy recovery already had them on the schedule for doom. They were the perfect town to further throw into a desolate wasteland of debauchery. Indeed there would be nothing better aside from a town full of drunks then the welcoming of skin peeling, grotesque looking, skeleton ridden beings walking amongst them.

  If only the town knew of the dreams the founder had for them. If only they got to experience an ever growing town with good morality instead of notorious cliches in which they lived. Then again the town didn’t even know they were sitting on a big amount of oil and when they did find out it was taken from them by an outsider, but an outside who had every much right to it as they did if not more.

  The sheriff of Toomswood is one of the few that still believes in the greatness that the town could be. His son among a very other selected few are the ones who wake up everyday with the belief that Toomswood can be more than it claims to be. They stand by the town and strive to bring some sort of pride and judgement to the gloom the others in town seem to bring. They try to make the best of the town but this is at times of course hard given the nature of the course of direction the town has fallen in.

  If the rest of the town only agreed with the sheriff and saw what he saw then maybe they wouldn’t be so down and maybe they would be more prepared for the future but the bottom line is they aren’t. The civil war came sending them into turmoil. The sheriff and his son as well as the others who think differently were also effected by the war, but they chose and made their own destiny and didn’t let the outcome of everything fallen around them consume them as well. All the sheriff had wanted was for the town was civility and peace yet through all the townspeople have done and continue to do they get the exact opposite.

  They are blind to their own means of success and if they weren’t busy wasting themselves away maybe then a difference could be made. Perhaps it can be but now there is so much more that they must deal with in order to get there. They must now prepare for what was to come, what is to become of them. It would be a hard battle ahead but if the town can take being a desolate shithole then surely they could take on any challenge they would be faced with. A new challenge would be a good change instead of battling against themselves all the time. Everyone’s agenda after the war to recover was different but all wanted the same ending result, to be one again. To not be afraid,

  Unfortunately, they would find themselves afraid if not more then afraid. They would find themselves shaken in their boots and

  overlooking their shoulders because what they would be faced with would terrify them more then they could never even imagine . . .

  Chapter 3 The Transaction

  It was one of those nights. Gloomy and misty. The sky was as dark as a black hole and the moon was barely visible in all the fog. Paths were also hardly visible because of the fog but this didn’t stop the shifty ones from causing mischief late into the night. Up ahead, the entrance to town had an unexpected visitor. Led by two black horses was a man in an old brown wagon. The wagon, freshly coated, seemed newly built. It had sort of a majestic look to it as it rode in.

  The man read the sign and made a note to himself, Toomswood, Population 656. As he approached the town there was only one other person outside in Toomswood, a man by the name of Javier Jones, known as Bones to his men. Jones wore a black brim Stetson which sat on his greasy black medium length hair which went down to his neck. He also sported a scruffy and mangled mustache and beard to match his hair. His eyes were the color of emeralds with a dark tone in them to go along with his shifty and mischievous personality. Despite his rugged look he dressed quite tastefully with gray and black attire from top to bottom finished off by his shiny silver spurs that seemed to gleam even in the night.

  At that time of night it is but a wonder what Jones, the slick, corrupt bastard was up to. It could be thought he may have finished dueling and killing some drunks in the streets however there were no bodies or another person around just Jones As the wagon approached a stop, Jones looked on curiously, wondering who might be adventuring in on such a crappy night. Out stepped a well-dressed man in brown shoes, black suit, a fray-studded jacket and, to finish it off, a top hat. He wore a monocle in his left eye. Jones, not accustomed to welldressed men making their way into town, eagerly but sternly approached the man.

  “Who might you be and what brings you into town on such a night?” Jones asked this mysterious man.

  “Helmsfeld, Mr. Jones, Roland Helmsfeld,” he said. “How do you know my name?” Jones asked, looking at him wide-eyed and ready to draw his gun. Yes, he was one of those types of people. “Ah, well you see Mr. Jones, I know all about you and your, well shall we say, your endeavors in this town as well as your “clean record” in Mexico.”

  Jones still looking on said, “you have my attention.”

  “Well, Mr. Jones, I am a businessman myself. Come all the way from California.” “California?”

  “Yes indeed, Mr. Jones,” he spoke softly.

  “Well then why in the hell are you in

  Toomswood and just exactly how do you know of me gringo?”

  “Ah, straight to the point of wonder, Mr. Jones. I like that. Your sternness and g
utlessness could be a factor as to why I am here. But let me quit talking in riddles and tell you why I’m here and how I know of you. I know of you because, well come on now Mr. Jones, you’re a wanted criminal in Mexico. If I remember correctly you’ve killed many people and then tried to flee to the Golden State but ended up going the other way to visit…your brother was it? Ah, well, you see I know about all of this and I must say I was rather relieved to know you were going the other way and not going to California.”

  Jones looked at the man with anger and distaste. Clearly this man was just another high up, no good, business man with his head in the clouds and no room to judge.

  “Okay, okay, so you know about me but it still doesn’t explain why you’re here in

  Toomswood. You come looking for me?” he asked.

  “While I do admit I came to this town for someone, it wasn’t you, Mr. Jones. Rather, I’m here for someone more; hmm; for the law?” he said with a small laugh.

  “You mean you’re looking for the Sheriff?” “Yes, Sheriff Shaw. Do you happen to know if he is up to speaking?” Jones laughed before responding. “Well, I hate to break it to ya gringo but ole man Shaw got gunned down a few months back. Dragged away by his neck over by where you came in. Yup, dragged six miles into Mississippi. I heard, by the time they got to that river his head and body was in two pieces,” said Jones.

  “Oh, my!” exclaimed Helmsfeld. “Well how unfortunate for me. May I ask if you were behind the poor man’s departure?”

  “You’re fine to ask but I didn’t kill em’ myself, kinda wish I did though. Shaw never did like me and I didn’t much care for him. Eh, oh well. We aint got no law if that’s what you’re gonna be askin’ me next. His wannabe son thinks he’s the law but he aint nobody special, that’s for damn sure. That’s why I run this town. I brought oil in and by god look at us prosper!” Jones tried to laugh but coughed instead.

  “Ah, so Mr. Jones, you mean to tell me you’re the one in charge, hmm?” “Damn straight. Nobody acts out in this here town and if they do, well me or one of my boys puts em’ in line.”

  “Well, Mr. Jones then maybe it is you I am looking for. Come to think of it, I would say your credentials are more profound than those of the late Sheriff.”

  “Is that so?” Jones asked. “Tell me

  then…Hellsworth was it?”

  “Helmsfeld, Mr. Jones. Roland Helmsfeld.” “Yes, well Helmsfeld, what is it that you’re here for?” he asked, almost in suspense. “I came to town to offer the highest man a chance at eternal greatness and I must say, Mr. Jones, while I wouldn’t pick you as my first candidate or perhaps any for that matter, I have come to have a change in perspective.”

  Jones laughed hard. “Well I’m glad you came by when you did. Now what is this eternal greatness you’re talkin’ bout?”

  “You see, Mr. Jones, I am a businessman, that is true. But I am also a chemist of sorts. I go from town to town to supply good fortunes and opportunity in small little bottles.”

  Jones was looking at the man as if he were nuts. “Good fortunes? Opportunity in a bottle? Just what kinda crap you spitting my way here, Helmsmith?”

  “Helmsfeld, Mr. Jones. Roland—” “Yeah, yeah, Helmsfeld, I got it. Just what in the hell you talking crazy bout here?” Jones asked.

  Helmsfeld then went into his wagon and pulled out a small bottle with blue liquid in it, showing it to Jones before speaking.

  “I am a chemist, Mr. Jones and here I hold in my hands, what I like to call eternal greatness or Elixir #5, for scientific purposes. You see, Mr. Jones, a sip from this little bottle here gives even the weakest man the ability to be all he could ever imagine and more.”

  Jones was now quite intrigued. “What exactly does it do?” he asked. “Ah, to the point again, Mr. Jones. I love your eagerness. Oh, how I do love your eagerness. Well, let’s take you, for example. You’re good at what? Killing people…err good at shooting rather… so this drink gives you the dexterity of a professional. And when I say dexterity, I mean a point pin, dead-on, always hitting your target accuracy. It also would alert your awareness. Increases your speed and modifies your strength to more than that of an average man.”

  Jones was now wild with excitement. “Well I’ll be damned, that sounds like something I would definitely be interested in. Can ya let me take a swig?” Jones then asked.

  Helmsfeld laughed. “Again to the point, Mr. Jones. I did say I was looking for the highest man and that seems to be you but I ask you, are you sure you wish this? I am not saying it isn’t healthy but one must be sure this is truly what one wants.”

  Jones looked at him and simply said, “You’re damn right I want this. Such power, such control. I take this and nobody is gonna wanna deal with the likes of me.”

  Helmsfeld gave Javier “Bones” Jones his elixir of blue and Jones swallowed it down with ease. Helmsfeld then adds after, “Oh, Mr. Jones, I did forget to mention there is one thing I expect back in return.”

  “Oh? And what’s that?” Jones asked.

  “Your soul.”

  Jones laughed hard before replying back, “My soul eh? Well shoot I’ve made bargains with people but this is a first, even for me. I ain't much of a believer in the soul and if it does exist, it ain't much use to me. You got yourself a deal. Or should I say a soul?” Jones laughed hysterically.

  “Now put it here,” he said, offering his hand. Helmsfeld countered by shaking his hand back in agreement and adding, “very good then, Mr. Jones. My elixir for your soul.”

  “So does this elixir power work right away or what?” Jones asked. “Well, test it out and let’s have a look, shall we?” Helmsfeld responded back. “In fact, take out your gun at fire at the saloon sign over there.”

  Jones removed his colt .45 pistol from the holster faster than he ever had before. He brought the gun up, aimed it and fired a single bullet, which pierced into one of the o’s of the saloon sign.

  “Woo, yeah!” Jones exclaimed. “Well I must say, I do believe I got me quite the shot now, don’t I?” He turned in the other direction and fired another shot toward the entrance into town, hitting the population sign.

  “This is good. This is really good,” Jones says. “Well I am glad to be of service to you, Mr. Jones,” Helmsfeld added. It was then that out from the back of the saloon one of the many town drunks, Fast Willie, emerged. He staggered his way to the roadside. Jones and Helmsfeld turned around to notice Willie. It was then that Jones lowered his hand to his holster. He quickly drew his gun with his new found ability and fired a shot in Willie’s direction, hitting and shattering the bottle of whiskey Willie held in his hands. Willie looked confused and bewildered. He was getting ready to speak but before he could, Jones fired another shot, and this time it hit ole Fast Willie square in the head. Willie fell to the ground dead.

  “Now I would say we know that my ability works, dontcha think, Mr. Helmmons?” “Helmsfeld, Mr. Jones, and I would most certainly say it does, but why did you have to go and kill the poor fellow?”

  “Ah, Fast Willie? He wasn’t anybody special. Just a town drunk. One of too many, if you ask me. You know why we call him Fast? Ain’t cause he’s a quick drawer of his gun. It’s cause nobody gets wasted faster then ole Willie!” Jones laughed.

  “Well, Mr. Jones, I would say you certainly are the man of the town but there is no glory among thieves.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jones asked. “It means, Mr. Jones, that while you may be in charge, your attitude isn’t quite respectable. Now, I know you’re not respectable but even I thought you had a little decency in you. But nevertheless, you got one more thing in life that you didn’t have the day before. I do hope you’re satisfied?”

  “Heavens yes!” Jones said. “I do thank ya kind sir and I have to ask though, were you really planning’ on giving this ole ability to Sheriff Shaw?”

  “Well, like I said earlier Mr. Jones, while I did come looking for Shaw I found you and so I would say it was fate that bro
ught me here to meet you. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I suppose that would make sense,” Jones said back. “Well, Mr. Jones, it is getting quite late and I should be heading out of town. I have other places I need to be before morning comes.”

  “Ah, shucks. I was gonna invite you over to the saloon for a drink. Have one drink, won’t ya?” Jones asked Helmsfeld.

  “Oh, no. I don’t drink but I do thank you for the invitation. Perhaps another time, though. I may in fact be riding back into town. One never knows what the future holds.” With that, Mr. Roland Helmsfeld got back into his wagon and prepared to leave town, but not before saying goodbye to Javier Jones.

  “Well, Mr. Jones, I am off. I do hope you enjoy your new abilities and I must say you have changed my opinion of you very much. Until we meet again, Mr. Bones Jones, I bid you farewell.”

  The mysterious Helmsfeld was off to another town to deliver his elixir. Jones, now with a smile on his face, made his way back to his room, but not before stopping by Fast Willie’s dead corpse. He kneeled down and reached into Willie’s pocket, looking for money. He pulled out a few copper pieces but nothing big.

  “Psh, I should’ve known I’d get lint and dirty old copper from you, Willie.” He spit to the side of Willie’s head, before kicking his lifeless body. He went back on walking. As Javier made his way back to his quarters, he stopped and said to himself, “I think it’s time I pay Sheriff boy wannabe, Emerson Shaw, a visit tomorrow. Tell him how things are gonna be around here. And if he don’t like it, well he’s gonna be as dead as his daddy and this time it will be by my hand.” He smirked to himself and then continued on, reaching his room to prepare for tomorrow’s events.

  Chapter 4 “Bones”

  Eight Months Earlier. It was chaos. Bullets were flying everywhere, in every direction to the point where it was hard to tell who was shooting whom. Javier Jones was in the crossfire of this madness that he had started. An hour or so before the whole ordeal had begun, Jones had a plan to steal thousands of dollars in gold and head off to Texas. Unfortunately for him, his plan was spoiled.