To Wage War Against One Man
04/13/1902 (MM/DD/YYYY)
The wood of the raised platform of the gallows creaked as the sheriff of Tumbleweed stepped to the front, flanked by his deputies. The crowd gathered, confused, frightened, curious, expectant, but most of all: looking for answers. Murmurs, whispers, a few shouts here and there to be heard. Everything seemed increasingly militarized, fortified; regular citizens—even a few teenagers—held rifles and whatnot.
With a stomp of his boot, Sheriff Freeman silenced them, before proceeding to address the people of the town. “Everybody; listen, now…” He began, “I’m sure that the whole lot of you have read the notice already.”
One man nodded, and the gathering proceeded to nod along, one by one.
“...This is a war. We are facing an existential threat to the rule of law in this state.” The chief lawman affirmed, causing a rise of murmurs, which he shut down with another stomp of his boot. The wood creaked further as his deputy, holding a carbine repeater, sat himself on the raised platform.
"The notice said that young men of sixteen years are allowed to wield weapons, but the situation is far worse than what is known." The sheriff warned, “Everyone must be armed. Therefore, I order that citizens of fourteen years and older are allowed to make use of weapons, to defend their homes, families and themse—”
The chief lawman was interrupted by the sounds of some people in the crowd jeering, reacting with sheer disapproval towards his order. A young woman stepped forward to confront him, “My son… my son! My son is not going to put his hand on a gun, not while I’m alive!”
A deep voice, originating from someone hidden among the people, confronted her back; “Shut up, woman!”
The jeers only worsened, as they turned from the Sheriff toward the man who said that. The inhabitants of Tumbleweed were already frightened, some panicked, dreading quietly, but now enraged as the man tried to seemingly divide them.
“Listen…” The sheriff's word fell on deaf ears.
“...Listen!” Again, Freeman went unheard
Frustrated, irritated, fed up; Sheriff Freeman grabbed the handle of his revolver, removed the weapon from its holster and raised it to the air—
BANG
Everyone fell silent. Birds, alarmed by the loud noise, flew away in groups. One man held his head, hands covering his ears.
Louder, with a far more authoritative, dictatorial tone of voice, Freeman spoke; “This town, under my guidance, shall follow Armadillo’s example.” The mention of the other town pulled a few sighs from some people. “This town will be under martial law. A curfew of 6 O’clock—tonight—until 8 O’clock in the morning.”
Murmurs of disapproval from the people listening.
Still, Sheriff Freeman continued “Anyone caught outside durin’ that time will be subject to duress and detention without counsel.” The eyes of the people in the crowd widened, collectively. “The sheriff's office will no longer attend needs and situations that do not pertain to the one at hand. The office will be reserved for reports of the whereabouts of this wanted man, and rescue missions.”
One man, listening to the grave words coming from the chief lawman's lips, nodded solemnly.
“If you have private property in this area, do not attempt to transport or defend said property. Anyone who dares to challenge America and her great ideal will face the most proper of punishments.” The sheriff added, gravely. “Furthermore; anyone who attempts to take advantage of this chaotic time to loot—and commit other crimes—will face deadly force.” Freeman finished, gesturing to his deputies. The lawmen turned and stepped down the gallows.
One of the sheriff's deputies turned to the crowd and spoke to them; “No questions. This is for the good of this country, y’all hear?”
Nothing seemed clear; this is a frightening time. Why is this happening, and why did it happen every few years? Who is this man—sure, they know his name and appearance—but nothing else about him. Why? The confused inhabitants of Tumbleweed shouted and discussed among themselves.
