Red Dead Diaries Entry 13: Sense of Scale and Respect
So I’m riding along near Silent Stead carrying a wanted poster for one of the Walton Gang. Seems he pissed off the law to the tune of $120 dead, and double alive. Me and A. J.’s lawlessness seems to go a little easier if we bring in other bounties like this occasionally.
Plus, it’s a hundred dollars I didn’t have for doing something I’d probably end up doing anyway.
I get to the shack “Rufus Higbee” is holed up in, and sure enough his boys figure out why I’m there. Bullets fly and my repeater sings. Finally, down to two guys one shoots at me from over the fence. I let a round fly at his face, but miss, and knock that tar bucket he’s wearing as a hat off. Good thing, ’cause it’s the guy. He starts running, I start after him, but stop to kick in the shack door and empty my side by side into the other guy.
I mount my horse and run down Rufus. Tossing a rope around him, “Trigger” and I drag the fight out of him before I jump down and truss him up, proper.
No sooner do I get his loud mouthin’ wiggling ass hooked to the back of the saddle than three more of his boys ride in, shooting. “Nice ambush, boys.”. They go down pretty fast, but I had to empty my pistol and run a few yards for some cover.
On my way back to Rufus I stop to liberate the ambush boys’ ammo and “spare” revolvers. From next to me, a girl’s voice asks, “were those people?”
“Yes, they were people.” I feel bad suddenly, “but they were bad people.”
“No, I mean were they, um… Those other people?”
“Trece Anos?”
“Yeah,” she looks curious.
“Honey, if three Trece Anos worked together long enough to coordinate an ambush, right now I’d be telling Saint Peter why Baby Jesus is ice skating on the Rio Bravo.”