Snippet #2032542

"Lied to.... I let myself get force fed it... stupid stupid stupid. She may have saved my life but she also ended her own, this town is afraid of crime, that girl will probably either be raped or killed in less then a week or more." Damian thought bitterly. He sighed openly, nearly penniless and jobless, his first day in Splitcreek left a bad taste in his mouth. He wanted to badly go after the varmint who decided to force feed the lie, but that would mean going back to his bounty hunting ways. He didn't want it, he no longer allowed himself to bounty hunt.

But why fight for the people when all they do is try to not let him get the bad end of a gun? Why was it that today's event sparked old memories? He felt sick inside. He never could keep his beer down when he thought bitter thoughts. "Doggone it!" he muttered to himself. He wandered to Abram and thoughtfully patted the horse's mane as he saw the doctor tend to the poor near-dead man as best he could. Even if it was a futile effort, at least the poor soul wouldn't die alone in a way.

Reaching inside one of his saddlebags he pulled out a small wooden cross, a gift from a kind young child when he went to look around Dodge City for work before wandering further west to Arizona. He pressed the cross to his lips and placed it back in the bag, before turning around and starting to mutter in a calm, yet pained voice, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, he maketh me lie down in green pasture, yea, though I walk to the valley of the shadow of death I fear no evil, for Thou art with me. Rest in peace."