York was always a small town. From the day the first building was erected over the flat, dusty landscape to the day the others around it fell in clouds of dirt and ash, it never grew more than a few miles. Its people were quiet and simple for the most part and they chose not to interfere with the affairs of the neighboring towns and small cities. The local sheriff rarely filled the station?s cells with crooks because there weren?t many in York to begin with and just about every criminal act was a capital offense in the county. The only action the lawmen ever really saw was the occasional raid as some gang of hooligans came riding through town, shooting their guns and threatening to kill all the men and rape the women if they weren?t treated like honored guests. Some sheriffs obliged throughout the years and others shot them dead.
One sheriff in particular seemed to invite more of these miscreants than his predecessors did and it is said that the day he earned his badge and took the old sheriff?s place that York was marked forever after with the sign of death. Crows took to the small town like a moth to a flame on that day and they never seemed to leave. His name was Anthony Douglas and less than a year after moving into York the town had suffered six raids from gangs and a plague that killed a lot of children and even more livestock. Despite this, York was growing. It was a slow and gradual expansion but it was consistent and its people remained relatively happy and Mister Douglas proved to be a very good sheriff because what little crime the good folk of York had suffered before had all but dried up under his watch, with the exception of those roving gangs, of course.
It wasn?t long into his second year as sheriff that Anthony met a young woman named Maybelle Durant and she was the daughter of a Mister Glenn Durant, a respected and wealthy owner of a ranch a short ride east of York. Within the year the two were married and her belly was swelling with the first of many children and they bought a plot of land in York and had it built for their growing family and most would agree that you?d never see a happier couple. They were as alike as they were different. Anthony was always a serious man, always kind and polite, but serious. He didn?t seem to take anything lightly and rarely laughed at jokes and not many people could recall him smiling but he seemed personable enough to keep the majority of the townsfolk?s affection and dedication. Maybelle was a bright ray of sunshine to Anthony?s gloom and doom sense of self. She was always smiling and laughing and singing and didn?t seem to have a care in the world and the birth of her first child only bolstered that joyous woman?s heart even further.
Some wondered how such a couple came to be and others wagered that they wouldn?t last but they did. Anthony and Maybelle Douglas were married and lived as husband and wife from the date of the ceremony to the day the both died.
But that?s another story.
Of their six children they had four boys and two girls. One boy they named Glenn, after Maybelle?s recently deceased father and this boy was peculiar in a way most boys weren?t. His infatuation with guns didn?t come until he was nearing the age of manhood and all his time before that was spent staring up at the stars and asking questions that made other people uneasy. Something was off about that Douglas boy, the people would say. And no one could ever quite put their fingers on it but few ever saw any good in him. He was never mean or rude or disrespectful to anyone that the people of York could remember but something in the way he looked at the world made the hair stand on end and his voice always sounded distant like he wasn?t really there talking to you, but somewhere else doing only the gods above know what.
The day he left York was a day full of a curious mixture of relief, sorrow and dread.
Glenn had grown into a man by that time, young and green as he was. He had his guns and a horse and he had a strange sense of conviction found only in men destined to die a bloody death and he rode in the dead of night away from his home and his family and he vowed never to return.
One sheriff in particular seemed to invite more of these miscreants than his predecessors did and it is said that the day he earned his badge and took the old sheriff?s place that York was marked forever after with the sign of death. Crows took to the small town like a moth to a flame on that day and they never seemed to leave. His name was Anthony Douglas and less than a year after moving into York the town had suffered six raids from gangs and a plague that killed a lot of children and even more livestock. Despite this, York was growing. It was a slow and gradual expansion but it was consistent and its people remained relatively happy and Mister Douglas proved to be a very good sheriff because what little crime the good folk of York had suffered before had all but dried up under his watch, with the exception of those roving gangs, of course.
It wasn?t long into his second year as sheriff that Anthony met a young woman named Maybelle Durant and she was the daughter of a Mister Glenn Durant, a respected and wealthy owner of a ranch a short ride east of York. Within the year the two were married and her belly was swelling with the first of many children and they bought a plot of land in York and had it built for their growing family and most would agree that you?d never see a happier couple. They were as alike as they were different. Anthony was always a serious man, always kind and polite, but serious. He didn?t seem to take anything lightly and rarely laughed at jokes and not many people could recall him smiling but he seemed personable enough to keep the majority of the townsfolk?s affection and dedication. Maybelle was a bright ray of sunshine to Anthony?s gloom and doom sense of self. She was always smiling and laughing and singing and didn?t seem to have a care in the world and the birth of her first child only bolstered that joyous woman?s heart even further.
Some wondered how such a couple came to be and others wagered that they wouldn?t last but they did. Anthony and Maybelle Douglas were married and lived as husband and wife from the date of the ceremony to the day the both died.
But that?s another story.
Of their six children they had four boys and two girls. One boy they named Glenn, after Maybelle?s recently deceased father and this boy was peculiar in a way most boys weren?t. His infatuation with guns didn?t come until he was nearing the age of manhood and all his time before that was spent staring up at the stars and asking questions that made other people uneasy. Something was off about that Douglas boy, the people would say. And no one could ever quite put their fingers on it but few ever saw any good in him. He was never mean or rude or disrespectful to anyone that the people of York could remember but something in the way he looked at the world made the hair stand on end and his voice always sounded distant like he wasn?t really there talking to you, but somewhere else doing only the gods above know what.
The day he left York was a day full of a curious mixture of relief, sorrow and dread.
Glenn had grown into a man by that time, young and green as he was. He had his guns and a horse and he had a strange sense of conviction found only in men destined to die a bloody death and he rode in the dead of night away from his home and his family and he vowed never to return.