Marshall Sinclair

Genre: Western

Plot: Vigilante justice served in a country-town controlled by a single family.

Words to use: watchman, loyalty, supporter, mask, defend, corruption, control, grip, bought, jail, unlimited, escape, bandit, jurisdiction, rogue

Marshall Juke Sinclair was a tough character who has encountered many a violent rogue that travelled west of the Mississippi. He’d often find that he wasn’t much welcomed in most of the dusty towns that dotted the west on the search for one bandit or ‘tother. He was the watchman, with his trusty 6 shooters at his side of course, and a defender of justice in these parts. A supporter and keeper of the peace whether he was liked or not. So welcomed or not, he was here to do his job and bring about law and order. 

In these parts most people would defend themselves because the control of the law didn’t always make out that far and as quick as they liked, needed or even wanted. Family loyalty was fierce and usually put above anything else, even the law.  Often that meant the corruption of the town ran deep. A family ran things and they were not ones to be crossed. Folks just felt the need to take care of things themselves because the gripof the long arm of the law wasn’t always what they wanted and their power seemed unlimited. These places were wild and sometimes lawless but he was a man that could not be bought. They thought that their justice was best and fair. 

The Marshall understood the score but he didn’t approve of their ways by any means. This was his jurisdiction, he was the law. When a man put on a mask to rob a bank or a train, it was his business to bring the person to justice whether it be jail or death. They can’t escape from Marshall Sinclair, no matter what. That was his promise.

Currently, he was on the hunt for a suspect in a bank robbery from Dusty Gulch. A thriving silver mining town whose bank was flush with silver. The bank robber was the notorious Gus Donovan. Originally from Frontier Junction, on the other side of the mountain of Dusty Gulch. This was his second robbery and the most brutal because in his haste to escape the law, a woman and child was killed at his hand. These two were visitors to the town and kin to a resident who had many relatives all throughout the state. 

He had escaped at the moment, but vigilante law was upon him quick as a jack rabbit through the tall yellow grass. 

These people who he killed, were related the Hargrove’s of Sunset Bluff. Her name was Lillian “Lilly” Hargrove, the wife of one of the sons of old man Hargrove, who settled scores the old fashioned way as his old pa did. That child was her son, an heir to their family land. This was a score that must be settle according to Henry Hargrove, the patriarch, many called him old man Hargrove in his family but he demanded respect and it was Mr. Hargrove to those on the outside. 

The marshall was hot on his trail, and he suspected that he was headed to Sunset Bluff, without the realization of the consequences. Marshall knew that he needed to get to him first or the law will be meted out by the family. Gus Donovan wouldn’t go unnoticed by the family. His picture was everywhere and the newspapers were filled with the information about who was killed and by whom. 

His suspicions were correct. He rode on into Sunset Bluff, hitched his horse outside the saloon and ventured in. He saw the usual patrons of the saloon, they are the usual sort, and was met with stares and suspicious gazes. A stranger stood out like a sore thumb. 

“I want to know if any of you kind people have seen this man in these part,” holding up the wanted poster he circled the room for those people staring at him to see it closer. Most shook their heads in fear, looking down at their feet.

A voice in the back said, “You need to see Old man Hargrove, he can tell you,” this ended in a snicker that gave the Marshall a clue of the results of this bandit doing what he ought not and going where he shouldn’t. 

He looked down at his feet briefly and returned his gaze toward the voice and sighed, “where can I find this man?”.

“O, he will find you stranger. Don’t you worry.” Then came another chuckle and few snickers from others in the gallery. 

‘Ah, that don’t bode too well for Mr. Gus Donovan.’ He said to himself feeling a bit angry at people doing his job for him. 

The bartender piped in “You will find the Hargrove home just outside of town yonder,” pointing north.

“Thank y’all kindly for your help.” The Marshall told them, lacking some sincerity. 

He found Mr. Hargrove, sitting on his porch just outside the front door smoking a pipe. Just beyond the house, he saw a man hanging from a tree from the neck swinging in the wind.

“Howdy. I think I have what you’re looking for out back.” The man said pointing to the tree. “You’re welcome to ‘im. I don’t need ’im anymore.” He looked content to go on smoking his pipe, seeming quite pleased with himself.

“Thanks” he said and turned around. He got back on his horse and rode off. He never set foot there again.

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