Lauren had never been a fan of towns, the smell of horses and their waste in the air, the buildings, faded by the wind and covered in sand. There was never a lack of people, which Lauren didn't mind at all, better for him to avoid notice. The taverns all had an unpleasant, sweaty heat, they all had the same smell, from north to south, that of beer and stale blood, a hint of vomit and desert wind. All of it was bad, there was no spirituality, men looked down from their windows with empty looks on their faces, no one gave any thought as to why they were there, what land they had mauled to make the living wood into dead buildings that stood, filled with husks and false gods, altars used for drinking and not praying. The one thing that towns gave over the many redskin villages dotting the empty land was beer, cards, and the almighty Lady Liberty, half smiling from her half-finished face on a silver slip of dead rock. Her eyes filled with stolen hope.

Almighty Liberty got you warmth, weapon, hell, anything you wanted from anyone, Liberty could get you it. Liberty clinked in every American man's pocket, kissing herself over and over until she was taken and handed to another. Lauren had liberty in his pockets, on the front of his horse, and soon-to-be liberty tied to the back, moaning and shuddering at every trot. Some criminal he had remembered, a murderer who had fast hands and a silver tongue, Lauren hadn't noticed, honestly, he had lassoed the man and pulled his heavy body to a tree, tying him, hanging like a bridge, his feet flat on the ground but his back ramping up towards the tree, held there by a rope around his neck. Lauren had crouched down next to him, comparing poster to man, one yellow and black, the other... a poster.

Lauren had been in the town before, it had been much the same then, he had laid with one of the women of the town and fought with one of the drunks, getting a nasty cut around his eye. It wasn't much to assume much the same would happen, but that was what angered Lauren, he had been doing all of this for years, finishing his bounty, going to town, engaging his carnal desires and then leaving to take another bounty so that he would have the money to take his next one. Would this be his life? What had he first set out to do? Perhaps he needed time, to think, to find himself, but first, he had to complete his bounty. Stopping his horse at the outskirts, near a large willow tree and an old creaky fence, left slightly ajar. The dust from his beast's feet stung his eyes and silhouetted the old tree, just as gnarled and twisted as any in the west.

Lauren grappled with the man's feet, pulling him onto his shoulder with great effort as the man struggled against his binds, his angry yells muffled by a makeshift gag. Now, the sheriff's office.