The Ocean’s City

“I once was a bounty hunter for a town up north,” Hutson began to tell his story, sitting up to say the story with more energy. The glow of the flames reflected in his eyes, giving him a supernatural tone for his story. “There was an Indian man who caused a lot of problems for the town, and they wanted him caught dead or alive. They were willing to pay good money for him, too. I followed his tracks for a few days until I found where he enjoyed keeping his camp. He differed from the other Indians in his area. He liked to stay alone. When I came on to his camp, I thought he was asleep. I thought for sure it would be easy to ambush him and bring him in alive, but as I kneeled down, rope in my hand, I realized he was only pretending to be asleep. His hand shot from under the blanket with a pocket knife. He slit the palm of my hand as I tried to defend myself.”

Hutson moved his hands, mimicking the motions as if he were reliving a memory instead of telling a make-believe story. “Then he rolled away from me and ran into the woods. I chased after him, reaching for the gun in my holster and shooting him. He fell to the floor, gasping in pain as the blood trailed from his body. He had a few last words, and I got to find out he was innocent and that the Sheriff in the town had stolen his wife, and that’s why the Sheriff had wanted him dead. I brought his dead body back to the town and got my pay for the job, but of course, I stayed behind in that town to see if what he had said was true.”

Hutson paused for dramatic effect. “The Sheriff’s wife was quiet and meek. She didn’t let any emotions show, but she was pregnant, and I would have to assume that the baby was not the Sheriff’s baby. I stayed in that town for quite a long time, long enough to find out that the Sheriff and the outlaw were brothers and for the woman that the two had fought over to have 8 additional babies. That’s nine in total. The Sheriff was a power-hungry, paranoid man, and as his eldest grew up, he worried that he would lose his job as Sheriff. But his paranoia didn’t stop with just his son. He made a law that no man or woman could reproduce for fear that a child would be born and eventually take his place. Anyone who threatened his rule wouldn’t exist anymore. When the woman’s firstborn son was fully grown, he fell in love with a girl in town.”

Hutson then slowed the story down as if making sure I didn’t miss a single word. “This woman was beautiful, and it made the son do crazy things. He grew stronger and more confident every moment in that girl’s presence. The Sheriff saw what the girl could do to his son and worried about the outcome, so he sent her away from the town, and the boy was forbidden to find her again.”

Hutson gave a long, dramatic swallow before continuing. “The Sheriff’s tyranny eventually grew so terrible that the woman and her children ran away. The Sheriff, although he did search for his wife, didn’t seem to care about his children as long as they followed that one rule: do not find their life partners and do not reproduce.

I figured by then it was my time to get out of that town, but just as I was leaving, a war struck out between the Indians and the civilized men. I knew this wasn’t just any kind of battle, either. Especially after my eyes landed on the outlaw. The two men fought night and day until the whole town was eliminated. Well, the people, of course. The town still sits on its own. No one dares to go there. They all believe it is haunted, and many more believe those two brothers can not truly die and will come back again to fight another bloody battle over the same woman and children that are lost somewhere in this world.”

The fire crackled, and Hutson let out an outragedly dramatic yawn.

“Sheesh, I guess I’m better at telling bedtime stories rather than a ghost story. I hadn’t even gotten to the good parts yet, But I needed to hit the sack. Will you be alright?”

I wanted to jam a burning stick in his eyes. Was he teasing me? Did the story even mean anything at all? Frustrated, I bit at my lip and nodded my head. He laughed brotherly before messing up my hair with his hand and leaving. The fire crackled some more. Jones finally sang the words of the song Fran was humming. I didn’t stick around to listen. I got up and walked in the direction that Dalton went.

“Where are you headed?” Fran called out to me.

“I’m just going to use the bathroom.”

“Watch out for snakes!”

I waved my hand over my head and walked for a good few minutes until the camp seemed far enough away. I searched around for any sign of Dalton, but didn’t see anything. The moon was bright enough tonight. It was like it was almost daylight, even so, it didn’t aid in my attempt to find out where Dalton went. I sighed, hiked my dress up, and squatted to go pee.

A lone howl off in the distance sang into the night sky. It was a soothing sound until a ripple of other howls exploded in response, and one seemed too close for comfort. Deciding now was a good time to return to the camp, I urged myself to finish peeing. The task seemed all the more challenging when the nearby creosote trees rustled like something was in them. I felt a sudden need to run.