Ewan Jones watched the spectacle unfolding from the porch of the saloon and was filled with apprehension. Hitched right in front of him was that gray horse he had been instructed by God to take to the execution. Ewan wanted to obey but he was scared. He had gone to bed the night before one hundred percent confident that he would take the horse down there and that would be the end of it. That all changed when he woke up. Hamilton had had an uneasy feeling through its dirt covered streets for a long time but that morning it was different. The air was heavy and suffocating and a voice was in his head as soon as he woke up.

  “The False Prophet has ensnared you in their schemes. Do not follow the direction of the Changing One. Criminals must be punished, allow life to take its natural course and you will be rewarded My Child.”

  The voice was not one that Ewan had heard before but it left an impression on his heart, casually asking the two waking drunks at the tables they both also heard a voice telling them to go the execution that day. Was that the voice of God and the vision he had last night was the False Prophet? He did not know and that was why he stood there staring between the gallows and horse.

  The air was still and he was able to hear every world that was said at the gallows. The story that women told felt eerily like how events had unfolded during the fight in the saloon. The stranger just appeared out of no where and saved someone in need. Then the stranger spoke.

  Something about he words hit Ewan hard in the chest, his talk of evil in Hamilton. Since the first oil fields had appeared things had been different, thought Ewan. Some of the older ranchers and homesteaders that lived outside of town said just as much as well. Could there have been an evil released in the fountains of black oil?

  'Listen to yourself Ewan. If you ever said any of this out loud people would think you were drinking your own supply.' He laughed.

  The stranger, who had said his name was Abishai, was walked to the trapdoor. It would be over soon, Marshal was standing with the lever in his hand when the horse began to fight against the hitch. Its strong neck pulling hard on the reigns, hot air snorting out from its nose. Ewan was scared the poor beast was going to hurt itself and unlooped the reigns and like a bullet from a gun the horse bolted into towards the gallows and the gathering of people.

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  Abishai finished his prayer and opened his eyes to see Aquinas sprinting down the road. The gathered crowd heard him too. Aquinas was not a small animal, over a thousand pounds and almost six foot tall at his shoulder. He was a horse bred for war and he sprinted now like he was charging a line of infantry in the hills of ancient Rome. Marshal turned his face and his jaw went slack as the huge gray horse split the crowd before jumping onto the gallows. “Hell's Bells!” Marshal exclaimed.

  Aqunias's eyes were a deep purple as he turned his head on Marshal. He desperately began fighting for his revolver in his holster as the large animal took both of its front hooves and shoved them into his chest. Marshal was thrown from the gallows and fell the six feet to the ground, the air knocked from his lungs.

  “Aquinas! You wonderful angel!” Abishai was beyond happy to see his faithful companion once again. Aquinas dipped his head and using his massive jaws ripped the shackles off of Abishai's wrists. At this point the crowd had run away unsure of what was going to happen. Screams lingered in the still air.

  Marshal was standing up in front of the gallows with his pistol drawn. “You think it is this easy? That you can just walk away and continue ruining our plans? You will die here Hospitallar.” He aimed his pistol at Abishai's chest and fired.

  Nothing happened.

  When he had fallen to the ground the hammer had been bent sideways and was now inoperable. Abishai grabbed his rifle from the holster on Aquinas's back. “May God have mercy on whatever soul you have left.” With a blind firing, the bullet ripped half of Marshal's neck away, black blood poured from the wound. Orange sparks began to come out of the wound as well, like a great pile of black powder was ignited.

  The sparks burned the air around the Marshal, a great putrid smell came over the town. Marshal's fingers began glowing red before bursting into flames. The flames licked their way up his body, consuming his entire rotten flesh. His last words lingered around the dust covered streets, “I have failed you, O Lord of Fire and Ice. I have failed.”

  With those last words, Marshal was gone. All that was left where he stood was a pile of dust and ash, blown away by a passing wind.