I was staked out in front of my ranch house. The group of men that had beaten me had done so to within an inch of my life.

Not sure how long I had hung there, limp, almost lifeless. It had to have been a day and a half, enough for the insect critters to be drawn to the blood. Enough blood for the ropes around me to slip somewhat.

All that I knew was that I hurt more than I ever had. This was an ass whipping and a half, one that had left me beaten but by no means broken.

The first indication that I was awake was a thirst I had never known before. A thirst that was so dry I was wishing for sand just to kill the taste.

A terrible rage grew in me, in the paddock beside me, I saw my horse, Blaze, dead. They had shot him several times. I could see that Blaze had stomped more than a few into the ground. I would kill them to the last man as soon as I found them. It took some time, but I finally managed to get loose.

That was the easy part. Crawling across the ground in front of my barn was a torture I wouldn’t wish on no man. I was hoping for the well, then realized that I’d be dead before I reached it. I settled for the horse trough barely able to pull myself up past the lip.

The water wasn’t that good, nor cool, though I didn’t care, just to be wet was heaven. I slurped up what I could, then fell back to the dusty ground. I knew when I bought this place that I would be fighting dust a while.

For the moment, I knew I was alive, though I knew I had to get inside in case they returned. I knew if that happened I was dead for sure. Flexing everything, I was amazed that they hadn’t broken any bones, though the bruises I had made me pause.

I then started the long crawl to the front porch of the house. It took almost a whole day to crawl the over three hundred yards. I made it there about sunset, more sore than when I had been kicked by a bucking stallion, twice.

Still surprised I didn’t have any broken bones as well as being alive, I made it to the kitchen. I was glad as hell that the ranch staff was away with the bloody mess I made across the floor. Making it to a makeshift couch I had, I pulled a rifle from under it.

Now I thought, a grim smile on my face, they had a lot less a chance to get me than they had before. I lay there for at least a day longer before I heard a couple of horses arriving out front. I knew immediately that they were returning to make sure I was dead.

Again, a grim smile returned to my face. I could move a fair piece better than I had before. From the sound of it, there were at least four, better odds than before. Plus there was the fact, that this time I was armed and ready.

Hidden as well as I could be, I waited ‘til there were at least two in the door. I actually lucked out when three came bursting in the door.

I fired as fast I could, taking the first two with one shot, firing the second, third and fourth shots. I slowly made my position better by moving away from in front of the door. I heard the fourth yelling out, getting no answer. Several shots entered the doorway seeking me out.

The last, as far as I could tell, was going to be the worst. I moved, getting a better position again. I could see the last one trying to make his way around to the back. I smiled as I awaited him not far from the back.

A few minutes later, he stuck his head in the back, expecting to be shot at. When nothing happened, he smiled evilly, then started to creep in. That’s when I shot both his hands and feet.

I let him scream a while before I cuffed him upside his head. The instant quiet was a blessing and a half. I then trussed him up with all the rope I had. By this time, I was actually able to get to my feet for a few minutes.

I had managed to get the last one hung from a beam on the front porch. I sat there a while waiting for him to wake up, so I could get some answers. The whole time I sat there I was very slowly sharpening a large knife the last man had, had.

An hour later, the quiet was broken by the almost inhuman screams the last man made. “Now,” I started as I rubbed the sharp edge along the scars on his cheek. “I want to know why, and who else is going to die,” I said as I again ran along another of the man’s scars.

“Fuck you,” the scarred man spit. “I’m not telling you a damn thing. You’re going to kill me any way, so I ain’t telling you shit!”

I smiled an almost as evil smile as he had when he entered my home. “Well, there is an old saying, you’d be surprised what you can survive.”

I started to make small cuts just on the surface, then an hour later I cut a little deeper. Though he screamed a bit, I still got nothing. “So,” I started building a small fire I had made in front of the porch. I added a few branding irons, getting them red-hot. “I guess were going to have to get rougher.”

The scarred man started to laugh, “you haven’t got the balls to.”

I looked him over, “Oh I assure you I have. You and the rest of your crew left me to die, so you see, I have no problem doing a damn thing. Oh yeah, speaking of balls? Unless you want to lose yours? I’d talk.”

This time the man spit in my face. I just shrugged as I took the knife to the fire. I got it as hot as I dared, then walked to the man. “Last chance,” I said, he tried to spit at me again.

A nod was all I gave, then grabbed his scrotum, slicing it off with one swipe. He screamed for a minute or so, ‘til I sealed up the blood veins with the branding iron. This, of course, caused him to pass out. I nodded, then went to clean up.

It was a while later that the scarred man awoke again, “you son of a bitch what have you done to me?”