Sam was on trial for murder and the sentence was death by firing squad. It was an event not taken lightly and did not draw the crowds like hanging, but still it was a necessary form of justice back in the day. This is a day he knew could happen but did not, in the least, expect it. He had lived life early on with a wife and kids, leaving them behind in the Western Plains and Foothills of the Rocky Mountains, while he ventured eastward looking for his way of surviving and bringing home money.
For Sam, it was meeting the wrong men, who were planning a bank robbery, but making him as point man thus making him do it alone, while they waited for his return to divvy the funds. It did not seem right at first, but they guaranteed they would cover him from outside. When it occurred, it was getting close to closing time around five in the late afternoon. The locals were already at the saloon and bar getting inebriated.
At twenty minutes until six, after he had strapped his horse to the back of a shop, which was a couple of buildings down from the bank. Looking around, with a little nervousness, he walked into the bank with his sidearm, common for that day and time. He talked to the teller for a minute and asked him to be quiet, while he showed the gun, knowing the vault was about to close. Sam forced his way back, while the few other bank workers noticed the commotion. He gave him two large saddlebags to fill from the vault while the head banker came over raising his voice lately, and Sam shot him in the stomach, where he fell and became very still. Already the noise had alerted the local sheriff, who headed that way.
As Sam went out the door, he instantly saw a shiny brass star on a man coming toward him. It took Sam one shot, and it luckily hit the town sheriff between the eyes. He ran toward his horse and jumped on with the sacks riding out the back way toward cover and happening so quickly almost no one noticed until it was all over. Sam got away with that first robbery, and the only one that saw his face, even though a bandana covered it, was the trembling teller.
He rode and caught up with the men, who hired them, but was skeptical of their part in the whole plot. He only shared a small portion of the money, which they agreed was fair. Over the next few months, other robberies occurred, and Sam was getting enough money to take back home. The law had caught up with him, which made it true that what goes around comes around.
Today was his day of justice. It was late afternoon and an approaching sunset. He had eaten his last meal and led to the point of execution. The man in charge of his execution read him the reason for this death sentence, and they covered his eyes with a blindfold, and tied him to the post. It was five shooters getting four times each to kill him. It is only twenty bullets, but these men were the best at shooting rifles. He braced himself, as his main executioner said, “fire.” The first volley echoed through the air, and he did not know if the rounds found their mark, but his mind was spinning, then the second “fire” faded as he jumped onto his horse and rode into the night not knowing how he got there.
Sam was riding through the flat plains with rolling hills heading home, and he looked up into the sky with a waning crescent moon, but the stars were shining spectacularly bright that night with colorful glows for each of them. He slowed his horse to a gentle run and felt such a vibrancy in the air that he could not describe. He took out his water flask and started to take a sip, and a bluish green brightness of liquid came out of it and seeped into his throat. He never tasted any liquid so good in his life, even the best whiskey. This was truly a godly nectar.
After a while he looked around, and he saw a pack of wolves running along with him at the same pace, and his horse was meandering naturally through a slowly moving herd of buffalo. He had a feeling and was in a place that knew what was meant to be. He was experiencing things only he could dream about at the ripe age of forty-two.
Then familiarity came back to him as he circled back around his cabin, coming to a stop and tying his horse to tree and seeing the front room lamp glowing in the window all the while morning was breaking with him facing toward the front door, eastward.
The door opened, and his beautiful wife, Casey, was standing there with tears running down her face. His youngest son, Josh, and older daughter, Lillian, stood there with the brightest smiles yet also in tears.
The sun came up quickly and shone brightly through the door of the cabin and enveloped his family and him into an eternal brightness. After the third volley, the firing shots stopped.
It was over, and he was gone.