As the saying goes, when you take on a task, you see it through.
Early the next morning, Stephen packed his gear and set out on horseback.
The moment he stepped out of the inn, he saw Sheriff Sam sitting alone by the entrance.
“Hey, here to see me off?” Stephen walked over and gave him a pat on the shoulder.
Only then did he notice how exhausted Sam looked, like he had not slept at all.
“I brought you something.” As soon as he saw Stephen, the sheriff stood up and handed him a small box he had been sitting on.
Stephen opened it curiously and froze for a moment.
The box was packed full of explosives.
He looked at Sheriff Sam in surprise.
The sheriff clenched his teeth and said, “I got this from the military.
The good stuff.
If you get the chance, blow those sons of bitches to hell.”
“Just remember, do not let this get out.
If it does, both of us are in serious trouble.”
Stephen nodded, secured the box carefully onto the horse, and tied it down tightly with extra rope.
“Don’t worry.
If I get the chance, I’ll make sure it ends up on them,” Stephen said seriously.
“Then go.
I’ll be waiting here for good news.”
Sheriff Sam patted him hard on both shoulders, then turned and walked away.
Watching his weary figure, Stephen felt a trace of sympathy.
In Strawberry Town, this man was practically second in authority, yet in the face of his family’s death, he was still lost and devastated.
The world is unfair, yet in its own way, it is also fair.
After that brief thought, it was time to get to work.
Stephen mounted his horse and rode north toward the forest under the rising sun.
No matter what, he needed to check the crime scene first.
He might find something useful.
Following the path north, he traveled along the mountain trail.
After passing through a dense forest, he arrived at a vast open grassland.
The scenery here was truly beautiful.
A clear stream flowed quietly across the land.
The ground was covered with all kinds of flowers, filling the air with a pleasant fragrance.
Wild animals moved about near the stream.
In just a short time, Stephen spotted Whitetail Deer, antelope, and even moose.
A fiery red fox chased a plump rabbit across the path in front of his horse, making Stephen itch to draw his gun and test his aim.
On a distant hill, he even saw a massive brown bear.
The bear glanced at him, seemed to decide he was not worth the trouble, then turned and lumbered back into the forest.
Although he had been here before, every visit to this grassland brought Stephen a deep sense of calm.
He took in the fresh air and the scent of flowers and stretched lazily.
At this point, he was close.
From here, heading a bit further west would take him to Valley Cliff.
Stephen continued along the mountain path at a steady pace.
The forest grew denser, and the narrow trail was barely wide enough for a single horse.
From time to time, the sound of wolves howling echoed through the woods.
There were far too many predators in this area.
Stephen carefully drew his weapon, wary of anything that might leap out from the undergrowth.
At a bend in the path, a patch of blood on the ground caught his attention.
“If I’m not mistaken, this is the place.” Stephen crouched down and examined it closely.
Unfortunately, the police had already been here, and all the traces had been ruined.
Footprints, hoofprints, wheel tracks.
Anything that could have been followed was gone.
There was a reason Stephen often said these officers only made things worse.
“In that case, there’s only one option left,” he muttered as he stood up.
Since he could not track the killer directly, he would have to find someone who might know who did it.
Stephen knew of one place where he might get answers.
But going there would cost a lot of money.
Still, he was confident Sheriff Sam would be more than willing to cover the expense.
Just as Stephen was about to lead his horse away, a distant wolf howl made him stop.
“Damn it.
I knew it wouldn’t be that easy,” he muttered, quickly tying the white horse tightly to a nearby tree.
No matter how brave the horse was, it would still panic in the presence of predators.
If he did not secure it, he would end up walking back.
He had just finished tying the horse when more howls rose behind him.
The white horse grew tense immediately, pawing at the ground and trying to break free.
Stephen reacted at once.
He drew his shotgun and fired behind him without turning.
A sharp, pained cry rang out as a coyote collapsed into a pool of blood.
Seeing that it was a coyote, Stephen let out a small breath of relief.
Good.
Just coyotes.
If it had been wolves, things would have been much worse.
In the next instant, the surrounding brush exploded with movement.
Seven or eight coyotes rushed out from all directions, charging straight at him.
“Come on then!” Stephen shouted, raising his shotgun again.
The weapon had a short range, but its spread was wide.
At close distance, it could hit multiple targets at once, so precision was not much of a concern.
Holding the shotgun at his waist, Stephen kept his finger tight on the trigger while his left hand worked the forend rapidly.
Five shots in quick succession dropped four of them.
When the gun ran empty, he swung it hard at a coyote lunging from his right.
The blow struck it square in the face, sending it yelping in pain.
Stephen ducked under another that leapt straight at him, then drew the long knife from his back and drove it clean through the attacking beast.
In the same motion, his left hand pulled out the revolver at his waist and fired, dropping another one.
Seeing so many of their pack fall, the remaining coyotes no longer dared to approach.
They lingered at a distance, staring at him.
Then, with a sharp howl that seemed to come from their leader, the coyotes retreated.
They had come fast and left just as quickly.
The entire encounter lasted less than half a minute, yet it was enough to set his nerves on edge.
Stephen did not relax.
He quickly reloaded his shotgun.
He waited a while longer, and only after confirming the animals would not return did he finally breathe out.
“Dealing with these things is harder than killing people,” he muttered, still catching his breath.
In terrain like this, a pack of wolves could be even more dangerous than bandits.