Two horses, two guns, two cowboy hats, one brown and one white, staggered all the way north toward the Niblaro River. The setting sun turned the fields of Kansas red, and the silhouettes of Ned and I looked extremely thin in a bar of wheat. We were friends of yesteryear and farmers of today. Ned asked me "How long has it been since you shot someone?" I said "Eleven years!"
I'm William Mooney, the killer who robbed the train and murdered women and children eleven years ago. I've also killed a lot of people, policemen, murderers, good people, bad people...everything I've killed. Many people wish they could cut me into pieces, including myself. For the past eleven years, I've known sin, but it's ridiculous that I blame it all on alcohol. Until I met my wife Claudia.
She helped me change my mind and break my habit of drinking too much. At this point, I changed my evil ways and became a pig farmer. Three years ago, my wife died of smallpox, leaving me and my two children behind. After she died, my two children and I were down and out, looking at the pigs with fever, my heart ached, and it was not until the appearance of Schofield Kid Once again put me on this path of no return.
A few days ago, Scot Boy told me, "Two cowboys in Wyoming ruined a prostitute's face, gouged her eyes, chopped off her fingers, and cut her tits! Prostitutes are now offering a thousand-dollar bounty. ” asked me if I would like to have another vote with him. I thought about it again and again and decided to go out again. Even now, I don't have enough energy to climb a horse, and my marksmanship is not as good as before. I found Ned Dominic, and without hesitation, he picked up his rifle.
So, we two old men on the road. The next day, we met the Scoo boy. Apparently, he wasn't happy with Ned's unsolicited arrival in order to have more splits. They argued all the way, and I mediated it. Looking at this short-sighted cowboy in his early twenties who claimed to have killed five people, I recalled the first time I was a bounty hunter, and suddenly felt that this young cowboy in front of me was extremely pitiful!
Along the way, the heinous crimes I committed followed me. I recalled the Cowboy who was shot in the head by me. He didn't do anything bad. In the bonfire, he seemed unrecognizable. "But I'm just an ordinary person right now, and I'm taking this business just because I need money to support my family," I told Ned, who covered his face with his hat thoughtfully.
And the three deputy sheriffs I killed were actually pointing guns at me, but when Scoo asked about it, I perfunctory him and I said, "I forgot. ." I didn't want the tender-skinned kid in front of me to take this unpleasant feeling as a cult of personal heroism.
In the rain, we finally got to Wyoming and stayed at the brothel where the accident happened. I was shivering from the cold, had a high fever, and a fantasy came into my mind: "Ighan was shot in the head by me, and my brain went straight. I could see it clearly, and the maggots crawled out of his head..."
While I was still immersed in the cruel memory, the town sheriff, Bill Jr., came quietly, and they pointed a gun at me, and I couldn't fight back, but I didn't want to fight back. At this time, little Bill was like Iggy Hand who was shot in the head by me. He started to take revenge on me. He beat me with his fists and stepped on me with his feet. He almost killed me. I thought, "Why didn't he kill me when For revenge, kill me! Please kill me!"
Little Bill didn't kill me, but beat me half to death. I struggled to get out of the brothel, and thanks to the help of the prostitutes, I reunited with Ned and Boy Scout. Looking at me in pain, Boy Scoo couldn't believe that this was the cold-blooded killer back then.
I was shivering and curled up in the blanket, Ned approached me, and I told him "I saw the Angel of Death in the Styx, it had snake eyes, I saw Claudia, I'm dying, don't Tell anyone what I did..."
The next day, the prostitute who was disfigured by the cowboy looked after me. I told her, "You're like an angel." She wasn't what Scooby said, she didn't have her hands, feet, breasts, or eyes gouged out. When she mentioned offering me free services, I thought of my wife and turned her down. I don't want to "betray" Claudia. Without her, I might have been killed by the enemy's cold shot, maybe in a stinky ditch, maybe drunk, and shot in the liver by an unexpected rifle... ...I dare not think about it any longer.
After the injury healed, we sneaked up on the cowboys. Ned boasted that Bai Bu Chuan Yang's marksmanship did not kill the cowboy named David, and he collapsed to the side, his eyes sullen. I took the gun and shot David in the stomach, I don't know if he was alive or dead. The injured David shouted hoarsely to his companion, "Oh my God! I'm so thirsty, give me some water to drink!" But there was no movement from his companion. I'm starting to worry, Dave the fuck? Don't be damned. At this point he was like the unarmed farmer I had beaten to death.
So I shouted down, "Damn, give him water, we won't shoot!" But soon Yamashita shouted, "You murderous bastards, you killed our David!" overwhelmed. Ned also later returned to Kansas under pressure. I can understand him so well.
But there's no going back with me and the Scot boy. At the ranch, Scoo kid killed the cowboy who was going to the toilet. It was the first time he had shot and killed him, obviously freaking him out. I didn't have the same experience. I told him, "Killing is a bad taste. You took everything from him and his future. We did it on our own."
Soon, our bounty was brought by a prostitute who said, "Ned was tortured and beaten to death by little Bill." I was so outraged that I went to the brothel alone, with a shot and a pistol. During the chaos, the brothel owner, Little Bill, and several of his subordinates were all killed by me, and the rest of the remnants fled in a hurry. I yelled at the door, "I'm coming out, whoever shoots me, I'll kill his whole family." No one dared to shoot, but no one knew, I don't want to kill anyone anymore! Don't kill anything that doesn't move!
After getting the money, I took the kids to San Francisco. There, no one knew that I was an unforgivable sinner. I soon died of depression.
This is my story, without the traditional western showdown gunfights, and without the personal heroism of singing, it all sounds ironic and dramatic.
In the story, except for me, who is full of evil, many people have not been forgiven. Ned, Little Bill, the brothel owner, Little Bill's men, and the two cowboys. After thinking about it, are these people really unforgivable? Do these people really deserve to die? Why am I, who deserves death, still alive in this world?
Later, the children learned my story. I asked them these questions, and they answered me like "Only you are unforgivable, and they don't deserve to die!"
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