It was a bright afternoon filled with the melodious singing of birds, harmonized with a slight howl of wind that seemed to linger in the streets. It was rare to hear birds singing this time of year in Brookvale due to the arid conditions, but the beautiful mixture of sounds created a perfect ambiance for the walk to Sarah’s home for dinner, even though Jack preferred the cover of darkness.

Brookvale was just north of an oasis of luscious greenery, vivid aromas, and an array of jackrabbits, tortoises, ground squirrels, roadrunners, and any other thirsty creature that dragged itself in from the dry surrounding habitat for a drink.

It was illegal to build structures in the oasis to preserve its resources; consequently, the city itself was dry and void of much vegetation. Aside from the blurred whispers of the passerby, the city sat still, almost dead.

Jack had been courting Sarah for eight months but still felt his apathetic heart skip a beat with just a glance at her. He lived in secrecy, constantly looking over his shoulder due to his distrust of others. His distrust for what most would call the “innocent bystander” was necessary to survive as a bounty hunter. This disposition caused him to become callous and indifferent over the years. He was almost lost in the painful void in his heart until an unforgettable day when he met what he considered the epitome of a woman.

Sarah Jones, Jack thought while striding along vigorously. I can’t wait to see her. It has been a long four weeks.

“Sale today!” shouted Stephen Weston, the owner of Brookvale’s General Store, as a crowd lingered outside the rustic building.

“Everything thirty percent off!”

Stephen was a kind man and extremely passionate about his customers. He also had the best prices on sack rice and sugar for hundreds of miles and knew Jack as a regular.

“Jack!” Stephen shouted as he noticed Jack amid the crowd. Stephen walked down the steps, fumbling toward Jack. “Good to see you. It seems like it has been quite a while.”

“Four weeks,” Jack responded.

“Short as always.” Stephen laughed as he clapped his hand repeatedly on Jack’s shoulder. Inwardly, Jack cringed at his touch. A couple of months back, a rather boisterous man attempted to worm his way into Jack’s good graces by being overly friendly with a loud manner of speech and a proclivity to be too touchy-feely. Instead of completing the contract to collect the 7,000-bill bounty with the usual surprise shot to the head, Jack emptied his chamber on him — smiling.

Jack hated physical contact in general. He had been alone since he was a child. His heart grew increasingly resentful as he watched the innocent suffer at the hands of others who typically went unpunished. As the years went by, Jack’s bloodthirst for evil men grew. To Jack, everyone was suspected of ill intentions or wrongdoing, but this man, Stephen Weston, was a pure and decent individual found innocent in the court of Jack’s eyes.

“Is there anything you need today, Jack?” Stephen said.

“No,” Jack said as Stephen nudged him toward the general store with his large hand on his shoulder. “I don’t need—”

“Nonsense, Jack!” Stephen sounded excited. “Why, I am certain I have something in there with your name on it.” Stephen placed his open hand on Jack’s back and continued as he gently nudged him toward the store.

I might as well go in. He ain’t letting up, Jack thought as he submitted himself to shop in the general store, inching forward with his boots creaking up the wooden steps onto the aged cedar porch.

“You see this new door, Jack? It’s one hundred percent oak. Just had this one imported in.” Stephen beamed, running his rough hand down the smooth finish of the finely made door. “The old one finally gave in during that hard rain a few weeks ago. I have been eying this baby for years.”

The door was a soft brown with an amazingly bright sheen; even a professional would marvel at the level of its craft. A stained-glass window covered the center of the upper door with swirled blue and purple designs surrounding an image of a brown chest. The golden doorknob, somewhat mesmerizing, called out in a whisper, begging to be turned. The door was far more luxurious than the rest of the aged building and stood out as a diamond lying among dirty coal.

“A man in the city of Barnesville handcrafted the window. I don’t remember his name, but he was a nice fellow … talented too,” Stephen continued as he made a fist and rapped on the door twice with his knuckles to illustrate its quality.

Jack found it somewhat odd that Stephen was so friendly with him. Jack had never given even an extra word of conversation outside of general small talk to Stephen. He mentioned the weather more than anything. Yet, through the years, Stephen always treated Jack like a lifelong friend. Although Jack would never admit it, there was some comfort in these interactions.

“Well, Jack? Are you going to feel the oak?” Stephen said, grinning from ear to ear.

Jack’s hands were similar to those of a lumberjack who had worked hard day in and day out for 20 years; tough, rugged, callused, and sure. Jack had to make his own way since childhood, fighting for survival with no one to care for him. He had always been sedulous, and his hands were evidence of that.

Jack placed his hand on the door, uninterested in what wood was featured in its construction. “It’s nice,” he squeezed out impatiently, attempting to conceal his disinterest.

How did I get roped into this? I just want to go see Sarah. Jack thought as the lavish oak door was opened, accompanied by the light ring of a bell attached to its top.

An extended counter nestled at one corner of the store with a countertop made of warm cherrywood gleaming softly in the afternoon rays of the setting sun, gently cradling an aged bronze cash register with tall round buttons that clicked loudly with even the slightest press. The shelves behind the bar were nearly overwhelmed by the massive amount of alcohol, perfumes, tobacco, and boxes of cigars that pressed on their labored wall anchors.

“Just re-stocked and ready to sell,” Stephen said as he gestured to the overfilled shelves behind the bar. “If you look down the center run here, you will figure out I carry pretty much anything you could ever need.” Stephen made his way behind the counter and sat on a tall wooden stool near the cash register.

Maybe there is something in here for Sarah. It might be a good idea to buy her something. But what?

Jack began taking inventory of the heavily packed store, crowded with shelving along every wall. Boxes, barrels, crates, and tables pressed tightly together throughout the store filled with coffee beans, spices, oatmeal, baking powder, hard candy, and dried beans. Fifty-pound bags of woven cotton sacks of flour, sugar, and burlap sacks of rice lined the lower left wall, all stacked at least eight bags high. Patient medicines were piled on shelves in blue boxes, resting beside soaps, toiletries, and a few questionable elixirs.

Wow, he wasn’t kidding, Jack thought, actually somewhat impressed as he rifled through a container of trinkets. But what can I get Sarah?

The store also included cloth of all kinds, sewing supplies, silk, clothing, hats, and shoes, all arranged in neat lines that must have taken hours to put into place. Rifles stood out to Jack amid the guns hanging on the back wall. Pots, pans, dishes, and farming equipment were so tightly packed into the racks that the wall behind them was completely hidden.

The doorbell sounded as a broad-shouldered man entered the general store carrying a large brown sack. He wore a smoke-colored trench coat with a ratty brown leather Stetson. His mustache was curled on each side, sitting atop a counterfeit smile. Black ink splotched his fingertips, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. This was a man well known around Brookvale for finding joy in the misfortune of others and one who would do anything for a good scoop.

“How are ya doing there, Jimmy?” Stephen said as he groaned, raising himself from the stool. “How many did you bring this week?”

“I’ve got twenty-five for you today, Stephen,” Jimmy grumbled as he turned the dark brown cloth sack sideways. A large bundle of newspapers thudded harshly against the soft wooden counter. “Front page story is amazing really. It’s not every week we get a first-person account of a murder. William Hurst was—”

“William Hurst?! The bank manager of Cloverton?” Stephen interrupted.

“Can ya let me finish, Stephen?” Jimmy’s words swung like an axe. “William was shot right between the eyes, standing in the middle of the road right in front of his home.”

“I can’t believe it!” a customer’s voice echoed from the back of the store. “Seemed like a good fella. Dealt with him once on a loan for the farm.”

“Well, that nice fella apparently had a dark side; a fetish for working over women against their will,” Jimmy said proudly as if this revelation somehow gave him prestige.

“Are you serious?” Stephen gasped. “He had always seemed nice to me too.” This wasn’t surprising, considering Stephen had always given everyone the benefit of the doubt, assuming all people were inherently good.

Nice? He put on a good front. Those women he raped didn’t think he was nice. That little boy he beat to death didn’t think he was nice. Jack’s brow folded in anger. I enjoyed putting that bullet in that dirtbag’s head. I wonder what they would say if they found out.

“Gist of the story is that this guy followed William from the bank one day. He was like a dark, ominous cloud.”

“Om-ee-nos?” Stephen squeezed, his lips unwilling to comply.

“Om-in-ous. Scary. Spooky. Like a ghost.”

“Oh, OK, OK. Keep going, Jimmy.”

“The guy started shouting something about justice and righteous judgment and pulled the trigger. Lucky for us, we were working on a story on William to find out what was really behind the wanted poster and why they suddenly removed it right before he was murdered. We had an investigator tailing him for months.”

Jack recoiled and clenched his fists before placing them in the pockets of his duster.

“Did your investigator see the murder?” Stephen asked.

“Sure did.”

“What did he look like?” Jack asked, his voice almost breaking.

“Rough-lookin’ fella, long hair, big coat.” Jimmy scratched his chin. “Curious, though. Our man seemed to think it was a demon.”

I must be safe if the guy thought I was some demon, Jack thought in relief.

“A demon, huh?” Stephen picked up a single paper, rolled and tied, and pointed it at Jack. “You think something like that is even real, Jack?”

“No. That’s just fairytales. Everybody knows that.”

“I'm not so sure these days.” Jimmy sighed. “These stories are just …” He placed his thumb and forefinger across his eyes and took a deep breath. “Believe it or not, there has been a rise in reports of sightings of demons lately. Some hard-to-believe evidence too. So, at this point, I wouldn’t rule anything out.”

“Maybe you need some rest there, Jimmy,” Stephen said, laying the paper before him and gesturing toward Jack. “Take Jack here, just got back from a four-week vacation. That sounds like something you need.”

“Four weeks?” Lines creased on the corners of Jimmy’s eyes as his gaze locked onto Jack’s. “Where did you go?”

Stephen ran a blade he used to open envelopes through the ties around the paper he held. The paper burst open with a snap; its corners spread across the table like a majestic bird spreading its wings.

Jack was certain that he’d be found out. His hand slowly slid inside his duster toward his revolver.

“Look at that,” Stephen exclaimed, slapping his hand beside the paper on the table. He read the title. “Gunman strikes again. Prominent banker dead only one day after the cancellation of issued wanted posters. Identity of the gunman to be released via wanted poster this week.”

A bead of sweat ran down Jack’s brow as he sighed. He wondered if they knew that he was the man who made the kill.

“But why would a wanted poster be issued for a man killing those the government already wants dead?” Stephen wondered. “That just doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“This man was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whether he is a killer or not, his name is now gonna be in the National Wanted Rolodex.” Jack clenched his fist as his eyes fumed with fury. “They’re assuming this man has something to do with those women’s disappearances too.”

“Wow. What a breakthrough,” Stephen said, his excitement gleaming.

Lies. Those bastards are framing me. I only kill evil men. I'd never harm an innocent woman, Jack thought as his brows clenched, openly expressing his frustration.

“What’s the matter, Jack?” Stephen asked.

“Yeah,” Jimmy pontificated on what Jack could be hiding. “What is wrong, Jack?”

Jack froze for a moment as his mind frantically searched for a way out of this conversation to keep from being found out.

“Maybe I caught something on my trip.” Jack quivered. “I’m not feeling so hot.”

“Speaking of the trip,” Jimmy said. “Where did you go again?”

Jack answered without a moment’s notice, “I camped in the oasis. I really enjoy sleeping out under the stars.”

“Sounds like a great time. You might want to pick up some medicine here in the shop in case of a fever. You’re sweating pretty badly all of a sudden,” Stephen said, genuinely worried for Jack’s health.

Jimmy’s convicting stare met Jack’s eyes.

“Perhaps you're right,” Jack said as he turned and made his way to the medicine rack.

Jimmy’s stare toward Jack was like a chess player who had just placed his opponent in check or perhaps a detective placing the final pieces of an investigation together. Jack stood across the store but close enough to hear Stephen and Jimmy’s conversation.

“I am telling you. That guy … Jack … he is the killer,” Jimmy whispered, desperately trying to hide his voice from the room. “Think about it. He matches the description—”

“Oh, come on,” Stephen said aloud. “Jack isn’t a killer.”

“Shhhh!” Jimmy shook his hands in Stephen’s direction. “He will hear you. I am telling you; my gut says that he is the guy. Either way, we should know today.”

“Today?” Stephen asked, whispering. Jack cringed.

“Yes. They should be delivering the new wanted posters today, and his identity is supposed to be revealed on them. That bastard, Fredrick, gave me every wanted notice but that one to print in the paper. Said he was saving it for his delivery of posters. Our investigator gave me a very specific description of the man and even sketched him. After taking a good look, my money is on Jack.”

Stephen waved off Jimmy’s accusation while Jack chewed on every word meticulously. His hand was resting inside his duster on the butt of his gun. To everyone else, it looked as if Jack was clenching his stomach due to stomach pain. He reached out and grasped the blue box of medicine with hesitant swiftness. It was time to make a hasty exit.

“I’ve got to go, Stephen. More papers to deliver and not much daylight left,” Jimmy said as he opened the door. His voice mixed with the pleasant ringing of the bell, “Trust me on this. It’s him,” Jimmy said lightly above a whisper as he studied Jack one last time.

A man passed Jimmy through the doorway, holding a small stack of colonial yellow paper, wearing a pair of khaki dress slacks with a pressed white button-up shirt.

“Fredrick,” Jimmy grumbled as he left.

“Jimmy,” Fredrick returned coldly.

Jack placed his medicine on the front counter. “Will that be it for you, Jack?” Stephen asked. “You know, Jimmy had the craziest idea about you.” Stephen giggled, motioning with his hand in Jack’s direction.

Jack was desperate to redirect the conversation. If I’m not careful, Stephen will figure it out too. Jack quickly realized that he hadn’t located anything for Sarah.

“Any idea what a woman might like?” Jack interjected.

“Oh.” Stephen seemed caught off guard. “You and Sarah still at it, huh? If you ask me, she is a great girl. You might want to marry that one.”

“You may be right,” Jack answered uneasily.

“I’m leaving these on the edge of the counter here!” boomed the low, raspy voice of the man in khakis. “New wanted posters are in!” He exited without another word.

Jack’s head shot down the bar to the yellow pages. That Jimmy fellow seemed convinced I’d be on there. I have to get it before anyone sees it.

“Can’t wait to get a look at those. That new killer is supposed to be in there.” Stephen grinned. “First, let’s get something for Sarah. I’ve got it. She loves this fresh honey that comes in here once in a while. She has no idea I have this shipment yet. It’s in the back.” He made his way into a back room.

This is my chance, Jack thought as he shot down to the end of the bar like a sprinter exploding off at the sound of a starter’s pistol. He grasped the stack of papers and began flipping through them.

“Not me. Not me. Not me,” he said while flipping the papers in panic.

“It’s around here somewhere,” a voice muffled from the back room. “It will only be another second, Jack.

“Not me. No. Where is it?” Jack breathed heavily. “I don’t see it.” Jack sighed as he reached the end of the stack.

Many different types of men were guilty of an array of crimes, all listed on the wanted posters. Killers, rapists, embezzlers, and kidnappers all headlined what Jack thought would make great paydays, but it was no time for that type of thinking. Jimmy had mentioned that this mysterious man was on a poster. Was he wrong?

“Found the box, Jack,” Stephen’s muffled voice continued. “Just another moment.”

Jack felt relieved. He wasn’t in the stack after all. He sucked in a huge breath of relief and lowered his head to release it. As his eyes met the floor, Jack noticed that one of the pages had fallen on the floor, its content a mystery as it was face-down.

Jack’s heart began to pound heavily as if attempting to escape his chest. If he really were the man on this poster, everything would change. He was certain he would lose Sarah. He’d wind up on the run and was afraid that one of the few honest lawmen may find himself on the wrong side of his revolver. That was a dreadful thought.

Sweat beaded down his arm as his hand lowered to the floor. The air around him thickened like smoke, making it harder to breathe. His hand trembled as it made contact with the poster. Lifting it shakily, Jack flipped it over revealing the new wanted man.

“Massacre Jack. Wanted for murder and kidnapping. Dead or alive. 7000 Bills. Armed and dangerous,” Jack read as he looked at a near-perfect sketch of himself. “Damn it! It is me.”

“I found it Jack.” Stephen said as he made the corner holding a jar of luscious, glowing golden honey. “What you doing down there, Jack?” Stephen said, continuing to the register.

“I dropped my … uh … letter.” Jack vigorously folded the wanted poster and violently shoved it into the front right pocket of his duster. He stood awkwardly and slowly moved to the register. “Yes. This letter is very … important to me.” Jack tried but failed miserably to act nonchalantly.

“Yeah, I understand,” Stephen said as the register buttons clicked loudly from the press of the fingers on his right hand while his left inspected the items. “That’ll be 12 bills and 54 pegs,” Stephen said with a smile and an outstretched palm.

“Keep the change,” Jack said while forcing an uncomfortable smile handing Stephen 15 bills. Only one side of his mouth followed the instruction to smile.

“Have a great day, Jack,” Stephen said, placing the money in the register.

I'm home free. I just have to get out of here, Jack thought, still smiling crookedly with a panicked expression. He headed toward the door, attempting to keep himself contained.

Jack opened the front door of the general store only to have his path blocked by a woman carrying a large black shopping bag. She froze in front of him and slowly examined his face as if she knew him but couldn’t remember how. “Don’t I know you from somewhere? I know I have seen you somewhere before …”

Damn, Jack thought as a few words fell from his lips. “You must have confused me with someone else.”

The woman wasn’t convinced but still moved aside for Jack to exit. Her eyes still surveyed him as he walked down the steps onto the road. He heard her almost inaudible voice from outside.

“Don’t you realize who that is?” the woman shouted. “Massacre Jack from today’s posters!”

Jack walked briskly toward Sarah’s home. They all know now. Those bastards spread lies about me to have me killed because I'm the only one who has the guts to take care of them. Even if they try to stop me, I’ll keep hunting them down. I don’t care what position they hold or how much money they have. Justice has to be done. Jack stopped walking and stared down at the honey jar in his right hand. I can’t just stay here in Brookvale anymore. What will I tell Sarah?

Jack placed the honey jar in the large pocket of his duster and began jogging to Sarah’s home. The setting sun began to drown in the horizon, its brilliant rays of light hiding behind dark clouds that boasted dark transcendent colors akin to the darkness rising in Jack’s heart. Everything would be different now. Jack’s normal life was over.

Jack was a wanted man.