Now, I can't say for sure if this tale in particular is true or not but, it is a story that has been passed through my family for generations. It's even said that the one that told it first actually saw him!"
"Saw who?"
"The Rider's Ghost."
The children's eyes widened and their attention was focused squarely on the story. Even to such a point where the world faded away and was replaced by a place created by imagination and an old man's tale.
"Much like in the movies and film, small wooded buildings lined both sides of the streets. People milled about and talked, mostly gossip between the lady folk, and went about their business. Horses were tied up outside of a few place and in about a minute or so, a man will be tossed out of the Saloon doors.
Yep, there he goes."
A man, quite on que, flew through the doors of the saloon. A much larger man poked his head out soon after.
"I've told ya, boy! That dame is mine and mine alone to do with as I please! I paid good money for her! Keep your nose outta my business or next time I knock ya down, you won't be getting up!"
"The large man walked back into the saloon and promptly shouted to the bartender for a drink. Meanwhile, outside the man picked himself up off the ground mumblig to himself as he swept the dust from his shirt. The man's name was Jason Kale. Although a little hot-headed, he usually had good intentions. You see, while in this time, the purchase of Native American women for...uh...personal use, was a generally looked down apon practice, the right amount of money, in the right place, made it easily forgotten. Kale was attempting to free the girl. He even went so far as to challenge the large man, who's name incidently was Jackson Smith, to a fight. It was shortly after that, that we came in."
Jason took a final glance into the saloon and grumbled.
"I didn't want to do this but, you've left me with no choice. You'll pay."
"With that said, Kale stalked away, and people quickly moved from his path, and wathed him storm away. Of course they later gossiped about it and drew their own conclusions.
Speaking of which....
There was a tale floating around about this time. A tale of a man without a head. Instead he had a skull, lit ablaze by the very fires that stoke Hell's inferno! He dressed in black and rode a horse that was even more black. Some say that the steed was as black as a demon's soul! The horse's eyes blazed red, the color of blood, and it's hooves flamed with the same hellfires!
Now, those who had seen the creature, and lived to tell about it, were never the same again. Some lived the rest of thier lives jumping at shadows. Some were taken away to get 'help'. Rumor said that one man was beyond help and just layed, curled up like a babe, repeating the word 'sorry' over and over.
Those still capable of talking of the abomination say that he is the leader of hell's army, trying to prove if those so called 'tough guys' were truly tough enough. Others claimed that he was once a normal person, like you or I and that he was murdered. That he came back for revenge and was now a lost soul, roaming and punishing all those he found guilty of evil.
Jackson Smith was never a big believer in tales or gossip. Whatever he couldn't see, hold, buy, or steal, didn't exist and therefore, didn't matter. He'd learn. He'd also soon learn that he wasn't as safe as he once thought himself to be.
You see, one night, a night after the incident at the bar in fact, Jackson was home. The man was quite well off so, his dwelling was quite a marvel and generally coveted by all. For Smith, it was his castle and his fortress. Where he was king and nothing could hurt him.
Jackson was not a good man. If people were in his way, he would 'move' them. If he wanted something, one way or another he'd have it. At this moment, he wanted something from his purchased women. She didn't want to but, Jackson forced himself apon her, and despite her cries and tears, he had his way with the young woman.
It was also her screams that made it impossible for Jackson to have heard the hoofbeats in the distance. Growing ever closer and sounding like the thunder of a monsterous storm. Just has Jackson had finished with his woman, the Rider's Ghost smashed through the wall. The horse exhaled fire and brimstone as the Rider's empty sockets stared, fixed on Jackson. Smith was so scared by the sight and it's entrance that he lost control of his bladder. Right in front of the spirit. The woman too has scared and cowered against the headboard of the bed, attempting to cover herself. The Rider pointed a finger at the woman and spoke in a vioce that froze all who heard it to the soul."
"Leave, and never return. You are free."
"The woman obviously ran and as she did, the spectre turned his attention back to Smith."
"You." he spoke.
"What did I ever do to you?"
The Rider stared quietly for a few moments before answering.
"You are an evil thing. The Dark God's influence hangs heavily apon you. I am here to cleanse you and to ensure that you will commit no more evil."
"Now, Jackson wanted to run but, never had the chance. The Rider's fist was around his throat like a vice. Clamping on tight. So tight that Jackson could barely breathe. Then, a red glow beamed from the Ghost's eyes and Jackson screamed. His insides felt like they were being torn inside out and his soul was lit a blaze.
Smith now knew what it felt to be one of his victums. For any all crimes.
The Rider dropped Smith to the floor. Tears streaked the man's face and he ran to the stream behind his home. He dove in and seemed to be taking a bath, all the while, his eyes where wide and he kept repeating, 'Unclean.' Townfolks said that if he wasn't pulled from the stream, he would of been there until his dieing, trying to wash away his sin.
The girl, meanwhile, had still been running and may have even run clear across the country had she not been stopped. Oddly enough, it was yound Jason Kale that stopped the young woman and calmed her down long enough to find out what happened. As if he didn't know. Kale knew full well what the Rider's Ghost had done and why. No, it's not what your thinking. Young Jason didn't know the Ghost and send him. Kale was the Rider's Ghost!
Now, maybe how exactly that came about, is a bedtime story for another time."
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