Chapter Text
CHAPTER 01 - Blessed Are Those Who Mourn
"Ten...¡Ten piedad de mí...oh, Dios... conforme...conforme a tu misericordia!" (Have...have mercy on me...oh, God... according...according to Your compassion!)
The sheriff stood tall on the platform. It was 2:24 p.m.; his silhouette barely cast a shadow over the curious crowd spreading below.
It was a miserable day, so to say. The roaring wind brought no relief from the unforgiving New Austin sun, and the gusts formed clouds of dust that stung the eyes of those with the slowest reflexes. But despite the sweltering heat, men and women, packed like cattle, teemed with anticipation.
A grim display like this was their only form of entertainment in this God-forsaken, unamusing town—if one could exclude getting blackout drunk and gambling all day, of course.
The stout lawman's cheeks puffed up humouredly as he struggled to breathe, appearing rather ill at ease. He awkwardly pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat dripping from his thick brows. Then, by clearing his throat, he stepped forward with a nervous demeanour.
"People, your attention, if you please...hm...Let's get this over with, shall we?" With a firm movement of his palms, he gave the masses a few seconds to pipe down. He took a deep breath before proceeding. "Today, we've gathered here not out of pure malevolence-"
"Conforme a la multitud de tus miseraciones—" (According to the multitude of Your mercies-)
"- but to witness justice be served as suited; for Heaven's sake, we are not savages!"
"-rae mis rebeliones..." (-wipe off my transgressions...)
"The man before you, Javier Escuella, has finally been delivered into the hands of the law, and by God, we've all been waiting for this moment to come..." A low murmur swept through again; intertwining curses and anxious whispers filled the air. "A member of the ferocious Van Der Linde gang, who, over a decade ago, terrorised our land with their uncivilised ways!" His face flushed red from agitation as he spat out the last words; his voice trembled with authority.
"He alone handles numerous felonies—"
Meanwhile, the Mexican's mournful eyes darted around, desperately searching for his God. Hot tears streamed down his jaw as the wind violently blew his dark hair in all directions. A rope was forcefully placed around his wounded neck by a second officer, but he was too deeply absorbed in his prayer to notice.
"--including murder, bank and train robbery--"
"Porque yo reconozco mis rebeliones; Y mi pecado está siempre delante de mí." (For I recognise my rebellions; And my sin is always before me.)
"--arson, theft, assault, and public peace disturbance."
"¡Esconde tu rostro de mis pecados!" (Hide Your Face from my sins!) Javier's low voice cracked in sorrow; desperation seeped through every breath.
"This day should serve as a reminder for all who dare to go against order! For men like Escuella pose a threat to the progress of our society!" His powerful, thundering delivery captivated the audience, but he stumbled before continuing, "Nonetheless, may our God, in His infinite...Wisdom-" and clutched his chest in discomfort "-have mercy on h- ugh!" as a sharp pain interrupted his speech.
"-¡No me eches de delante de ti, oh, Dios!" (Do not cast me away from Your presence, oh, God!)
"Thomas!" The second lawman present was among the first to rush to the struggling man's side, who was now moaning, gasping for air, as his eyes rolled back.
The lever was never pulled...
A piercing sound rang out; a bullet sliced through the rope just inches above Escuella, and the head officer, finally losing his balance, grasped onto him as a last resort. With his hands bound tightly behind his back, all Javier could do was let the weight of the bigger man force him helplessly to the ground, hitting his head on impact...
Most townspeople scattered around in a flurry. Others climbed onto the platform—not out of concern for their sheriff, nor out of human dignity, but like beasts— like beasts steered by adrenaline, they excitedly dove into the chaos in an instant, merely treating the situation as a big party. Nothing less is to be expected from the residents of Roebuck.
He had known what the consequences of his actions would be... known that this day would come.
He foolishly had fallen for another man's ambitious lies and idle ideals. A man whom he had put all his faith in; all his might; his being! But what more could he have done for the person who took him under his wing, supported him back to his feet, and lifted his spirits when he felt most betrayed by the world? Truly, Dutch had recognised the potential the young immigrant held and transformed him. He wasn't just a charismatic leader, but a father figure... a god, even. He knew how to use his tongue to manipulate, to ease doubt, and comfort the vulnerable.
And Javier was vulnerable. A fugitive at the time, he had fled his motherland after people like him had been continuously persecuted and hunted by tyrants. He escaped his life of starving servitude to face a different font of hostility in a foreign hell. His hunger and thirst were never appeased, but Dutch's words had been full-flavoured and filling.
He dedicated the rest of his life to that pile of crooks he called family, remaining blindly loyal to a fault until the day his world collapsed. It's all that had mattered to him; all that remained from the man he identified as, the one he claimed to be.
At least he could die peacefully knowing he never aimed his gun at his brothers...
Mierda! Who is he trying to fool? How could he know peace?
He had been engulfed in aching hate that was intensifying with each passing day. It never seemed to belt up; it was unbearable!
How is this fair? How is this FAIR?! How is he deemed the hypocrite?!
But that's what happens when you put your trust in men.
Oh, he's such a hypocrite... He feels betrayed, but most of all, he feels betrayed by himself.
The world is changing rapidly. If it's for the better or not, only God knows. And if it is something Dutch always seemed to fear, it was change. America was becoming a land of laws...Even the West had mostly been tamed.
"They're chasing us hard because we represent everything that they fear." Dutch enjoyed playing that card—they were the ones wronged by society, after all...
Eventually, the shouting slowly faded away, and darkness consumed him as he began to slip into unconsciousness...