More Back Story

Ten Years Ago

     Hunting men is almost easy than hunting game. Yeah deer and rabbits tend to go back to the same watering holes, and have the same woodland that they travel in, but when they sense danger, they tend to run and hide and at times are impossible to flush out.

     Men on the other hand tend to go to the same bars and whorehouses, same towns and safe houses. But they one thing they do not do is when they sense danger is hide; they tend to want to stay and fight it out. Men are stupid.

     After my sister was murdered I took it upon myself to hunt down the men who did it. I became a bounty hunter. I mean, I might as well make a few bucks while I’m at it right? For the past 3 years I have made it my job to hunt down the most vial and nasty that the West had to offer. In the process I had made over six thousand dollars, and collected about 15 bullet holes in my body.

You think your invincible when you first start out, then you take your first bullet. After you heal from your first bullet you figure that hey if I lived through that I am invincible. Somewhere between bullet number five and bullet number ten you start to think that maybe you’re not all that indestructible. Then bullets eleven thru and fourteen pretty much makes the argument that yeah… I need to be more careful. Bullet fifteen makes you reconsider your line of work. That’s where I was, bullet fifteen.

     I had hunted the country looking for the man with the sunken eyes without any hope of ever finding him. I had run across murderers, robbers, rapist, the worst that humanity has to offer. Yet though all these men, I hadn’t found my man, Hell, I hadn’t even seen a wanted poster with his mug on it. I had managed to track down the man that was with him that night.

     I spent five long days on the trail back to Dodge City with that murder. He just laughed when he found out it was me. He said that I had so far wasted my life looking for him. I told him nothing would be wasted when I saw him hanging by a rope. After a few days he offered my money, women, and land to let him go. I had none of it; all I asked was, where’s the man with the sunken eyes? He told me he didn’t know, he said he didn’t even know the man’s name. I had enough, I stopped talking to him. I stayed in Dodge just long enough to watch him hang. To hear his neck snap brought a smile to my face.

     But that had been the only thing that had made me smile in a long time. I was burned out. I had killed too many men in the name of money, and I still had not exacted the revenge that I sought. Hate had long taken over my soul. I felt like the devil had stopped by and set up shop inside of me. No woman loved me. None care to. I had grown ugly.

     I had never been a handsome man by any means. I stood all of six feet. I had a think long head of black hair. I was only 23 but living hard had started to turn me gray. I weighed in about 190 pounds, and thought I carried it alright. My nose was crooked, from losing to many fights. I shaved, but not often enough, my face felt like sandpaper, or so I was told. One thing that everyone noticed though was my lack of a right ear. All that was left after the man with sunken eyes had decided to blow it off was a nub of ragged flesh. When the doc had found he said that my ear was a total loss and snipped it off.

     Because of my lack of an ear I had become known as One Eared Raven, Bringer of Death. Because of this reputation I had gained, few men fought me anymore. Most saw me coming, saw my one ear and gave up.

     One day I was bringing in one of my latest bounties, a red head by the name of Sullivan. Not that he was important, but who I ran into next was. Marshal Kipp Manning was a sturdy man. Strong willed and hell he had a strong mouth on him too. He would tame whiskey if he looked at it right. I had worked with Kipp on a number of bounties, but this time he wanted me for something else. He saw that I was burned out and that I needed a change of pace. So he deputized me right then and there. I didn’t argue with the man, I pinned the badge on and since that day I was a US Marshal. I think back on this turn of events and I’m thankful I took the badge, cause if I hadn’t I’m sure Kipp would of kick my ass and called me Nancy afterwards. 

5 Years Ago

     Kipp took me under his wing and decided to make me his wingman. Since my father had died, I really didn’t have a man to look up to, or learn from. Kipp took over teaching me on how to become a man. Adamantly I was a bit old to be taught a few things, but he taught me the Law, and how a man of the Law should act.

     Kit was not one to shy away from a fight. But he would only fight it pertained to upholding the law. He never took money, he never lied, and most of all, he never broke the law that was his to uphold.

     What was most amazing about Kipp though was that he converted to Mormonism. A group of missionaries rolled into Cheyenne one day, gave him a book and asked him to read it. Kipp came to the office, told me he was going to be gone for a few days, and took off. Three days later Kipp came back to town a changed man. He didn’t swear any more, up and quit smoking, and got a hair cut. He even took a bath. The last thing I remember talking to Kipp about was how he was going to move to Salt Lake City, find a wife, get married in some sort of temple and live to see the glory of God. I didn’t argue with the man, and actually I was happy that Kipp had found something to believe in.

     Kipp left later that year and I would get a letter from here and there, I finally heard that he had settled down in a town in northern Nevada called Grantsville. He sent me a letter telling me that he had found a wife, married her in that temple, he got a job as Marshal and he and his wife Annabelle had two kids. Strange what happens to men when they find God, very strange.