Two Graves And A Warm Cognac

"Nice work." Marshal Cain says while exhaling from his smoke. "He is certainly Red now."

"That is what I expect from all of you. After the kill, you confirm the target is dead. You can step on a cockroach and five minutes later, it will have crawled away. We are sending a message. We are cleaning up the west. To kill the beast, you must become the beast. It is not enough to kill the lawless. We have to instill fear into every heart. We want to make potential outlaws think twice about their actions. In the beginning, there will be many that challenge us. Leave their blood in the dirt, and things will change quickly. Undertaker. Get two more holes ready. We have another round coming up."

The Undertaker scrambles to the next set of open graves.

"Deep enough I think, Marshal!" he shouts.

The hot sun of the western sky dims slowly. Cain raises his gaze to the storm clouds rolling in from the North. His sneer turns to a grin.

"A rain's a'comin'. Next up is Lincoln Cole and Charlie Colbon."

The crowd separates for a tall, slender man of apparent wealth and class. His tailored suit and molded derby stand out in the crowd of roughnecks. The thick smoke from his cigar drifts from the burning embers and hangs under the rim of his hat as he takes his place in front of the fresh grave.

"Marshal Cain. I would very much appreciate the courtesy of being addressed by my proper title. Allow me to introduce myself to the rabble. I am Lord Lincoln Cole the third. Generations of expert marksmen proceed me and I am here to continue our family legacy. I carry the advantage of perfect breeding, and a lifetime of thorough training of all firearms. May the best man win. And when I do, I would very much like a cool damp towel and a warm cognac as opposed to the watered down swill they serve at the local mud house."

Cole's assistant skitters off to the saloon to retrieve the towel and drink requested by his employer.

Marshal Cain spits at the ground.

"Cole. You are either a hangmen, or a hole in the ground. Colbon! Get out here. We don't want to keep the Lord from enjoying his cognac."

The End

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