Among the dead they followed. The battle only grew more savage. Mounds of ghostly flesh stripped of bone crawled about, animated by some dark purpose. Piles of skeletons moved to the same spot. Under the bridge, where the whirlpool had grown, the skeletal void had grown titanic. Over the entire battlefield it stretched with nothing beyond its grasp. All the living Grays, who served Mason, were tore apart, blood drained, so to return to service in the war. Chatter of teeth raised pebbled flesh on icy skin. Toll of the bell, Hell's own chime, rung through the night, and vile was the note.

So great was man's malice, Cassidy thought, it had spawned this nightmare. All in my mind he repeated. Seeing Franklin's tears, he knew none had really left the Battle of Santa Estrella. Through this hell of man's devise, they followed Garrett, who always stayed just beyond their reach. Horrors of war waited around every step. Countrymen, some brothers, slew each other, and gone was their mercy. The world ran on blood the bounty hunter knew, for on the field of battle it was refreshed. As the past haunted Widow Creek, so it lived in Cassidy's heart. This destruction was the failing of man became manifest.

To their relief, Garrett moved away from the battlefield. A hidden trail scaled upward and away. A high cliff surveyed the area, view heavenly. Over Widow Creek the land stretched. The mission of the monk Santa Estrella set back from its edge, long gone to ruin. Upon this point the ghost faded with eyes that begged Franklin. Cassidy gazed about, bewildered. A far broken peak set under a star, and at the cliff's edge was where Joseph's ring had been hidden. Over waters, they could watch the drama play out below, though neither were interested.

"The gold must be here," Mason said in a smooth tone.

Cassidy whirled, but he'd got the drop on them. The bounty hunter cursed the demonic ringing. They'd been so captivated by the spectacle, neither had checked for any followers. "The spoiled coward has finally crawled out from under his rock," he said, though searched about the cliff.

"I'll eventually find it," he ignored the bounty hunter's words. "I'll retire to some place nice," he looked at Franklin, "but I'll be sure to say hello to the widow for you." At that he winked, and Cassidy restrained Franklin, who was a bull of a man.

A glimmer sparkled below, and pulled the bounty hunter's eyes. For an instant, he saw it. A colossal skeleton made of the bones of dead Union, Confederate, and treasure hunters was unveiled, yet faded back to a void, absence of space. Born of war and death, it had all the men's hateful rage.

At its feet, under the bloated moon, beneath the bridge, the whirlpool had grown large. In the eye of the maelstrom set a pile of gold bars. They shimmered. Cassidy burst into a wild gale of laughter. So sudden was the burst of insane cheer, the others feared he'd gone mad.

"You'll never have it!" the bounty hunter jabbed a hand to the maelstrom below. "You betrayed everyone for nothing!"

Franklin looked over, and bellowed out a bitter laugh, "All for nothing!"

Mason sneered, yet drew closer to the edge. Bright was the moonlight, and it shimmered on the gold below. Surprise turned to rage, but Franklin rushed at him. The gun rose to the one armed man, but Cassidy jumped onto the traitorous slaver. The revolver boomed, missed, yet Franklin let go. Over the ledge Mason and Cassidy tumbled, to the creek below. Mason, fortunes gone with the plantation, screamed in a high pitch tone. A skeletal hand caught Mason, who he fell into its grip, but the bounty hunter went to the waters below where Garret and Joseph waited. They smiled up, relieved. Chill waters swallowed him, before the darkness came up to meet him.

Chatter of teeth, rattle of bone, and boom of cannon grew distant. Cassidy walked through the forest in the fleeting dream. Somewhere, in this no man's land, Tommy Watts had grown silent. The buzz of flies grew, as the air clotted with blood and gun smoke. His pace slowed. Inside every shadow devils waited. Slow haze of the mind knew it was only a piece of the past, but to wake would only be a temporary reprieve. This forest waited. It was patient. No matter where he ventured, the stretch of woods were seared into his heart, cursed to linger.

"Alive," Jody said touched the cut on his temple, "I think he is having a nightmare."

Eyes, blue as the coming dawn, opened. Jody's visage swam into view, and concern turned her beautiful. Cool waters of Widow Creek left Cassidy's clothes icy. On the tongue, it was still crisp. Though he searched for the sound of ringing, only the distant cry of wolves lingered on the air. Low sweet perfume clung to the air.

"How did you survive?" she asked, though strove for contempt, concern underneath stung him. "I thought I heard…shots," she considered the boom more like cannons, "so I came to the waters."

"Thought you would just let me drift," Cassidy rose, looked at her, "or perhaps hold a Blue Belly under."

Jody came close to a laugh, and she became beautiful, "I would've, but Franklin said you saved him." She had recalled the heartbreak in the bounty hunter, when he mentioned his murdered family.

"You saved him before I told you," the one armed man looked down at the bounty hunter. He looked at her, "I just got done telling her the whole story."

"I do apologize Madam," he stood, "they should've swung for all they've done, but at least, they paid for their crimes." Cassidy glanced at the scar, thought of his wife, "I wish there was more I could do." Image of Caroline tore at his heart. The bounty hunter stepped towards the door, but felt something hard against his chest. Two bars of gold rested inside. Frosty edge upon his spine cut the smile from his face. The door opened in a numb hand, yet the other set Joseph's treasure down. "I hope this can help you two, perhaps move on," out of the door he shambled with a shiver. As thoughts of the forest returned, he wiped the hand that had touched the gold.

"I hope you can too," she held up one of the bars, amazed. As he staggered away, she thought of his face, and how hers looked in the mirror, lonely and lost.

He staggered at the words, refused to turn back, but straightened himself. The urge to run gnawed at him, and he willed legs to move at an easy pace. Cassidy would collect from the Sheriff in the morning, but he would not stay anywhere near the battlefield.

All thoughts were forced away as he approached. Cassidy's horse waited where he'd left it. Eyes strayed from the ruins. "A bump on the head," he whispered to himself, and touched the tiny scrape on his temple. His horse gave him a doubtful side eye. The gold he must've picked up, while having his brains rattled. Ghosts were just pieces of the past that followed you like a precession, figments and regrets, tethered to the regretful heart. If he fell into the past, it would devour him.

Up to the fat moon, his gaze rose, "Pretty Tommy isn't so pretty anymore."

Moonlight, delicate and haunted silver, rained down upon his upturned face. Deceptive shadows moved. Again, alive was the dark night. Though the cannon fire had ceased, in bitter memory they never slowed. As thick smoke flooded the mind, the urge to cough seized the bounty hunter. Somewhere a wolf howled, but underneath the lonely cry, a man laughed out the last moments of his life. Part of Cassidy died that day, he knew, never to return. Broken, he still went on. Death and blood, oaths and curses, all were carried forward. Some tobacco would soothe him, alcohol numbed him, yet those days would never fade, deathless. Out of the past, these devils of the soul thrust onto the present, more to come in the future. Whispers on the wind, desert kisses, assured that blood made the world turn, which would always grind on, relentless.

As the memory swelled, darkness quivered, Cassidy rode on to Marion. Madness of the desert and solitude could wait, until civilization became just as unbearable as the night.