James dreamed of fever fueled nightmares, causing his body to twitch and cavort oddly, his lobster red johnson slapping back and forth on his thighs as he did the  undignified 'fish dance'. Inside his head he could see the past few days unfold before his mind's eye, and too his chagrin.<br/><br/>He could see the faces of his friends, as they were gunned down, the gun battle had raged for most the day in his memory, but in truth is was finished in under a quarter of an hour. He could still smell the gun powder and feel the sun beating down on him as he and his peers held off the invading force. He remembered being temporarily refreshed as something cool splashed across his face on that unbearably hot day, it turns out that a man's brains feel cool as they splash you, when it's 115 degrees out.<br/><br/>He remember shooting every shell he had, as well as the ones he could scrounge of the dead folks around him, until he ran dry. It was that helpless feeling, and one that burned in your guts when you knew you were out of options and had to face the piper. He'd stood up and charged headlong into the fray, smashing the first two attackers heads with the butt of his big,empty revolver. He screamed until he was hoarse, flailing his arms and kicking at the men that swarmed him. The next thing he knew, his feet were tied and he was being dragged behind a horse, while the men that opposed he and his dead men, cheered and bet on how many passes he'd survive.<br/><br/>His clothes soon gave way, and he still had no idea how'd he'd kept hold of his hat, but he managed to stick alter his posture and push his boot heels low enough to gain leverage, pulling the inexperienced young rider from the saddle. It was fight or flight at that point, and like most men, Heck picked fight! He jumped up and smashed the kid in his head with a flying elbow, going immediately for the gun on the dazed kid's hip. A second later, he'd pumped three rounds into the kid's side, having set the poor kid's shirt on fire, from the close range gunfire. He stripped the lasso off his boots and mounted the spooked horse the man had dragged him with. He had no sense of self salvation at this point and charged back toward the pack of interlopers, guns blazing and nearly buck naked.<br/><br/>He remembered the look on their faces, seeing the naked man charge, full fury and firing the colt fan-hammer at them.  Two men dropped immediately and the marauders started to scatter, none of the able to shoot straight enough to hit the broad side of a barn, when faced with the cadence of a flapping phallus at full gallop.<br/><br/>James swooped in and grabbed one of the three saddle bags full of heavy gold coins. He wanted to grab more, but modesty was only so good of a cover, when it came to gold. The men started to reform and open fire, his horse taking one in the gut, he spurred it on anyway, running it full blast until it finally gave out under him. He'd managed to escape death via the gun, but not via the desert, and so he began he journey to the<span style="font-weight: bold">purgatory </span>that was Bethlehem Falls.<br/><br/>Now James brain was swelling from the combination of the concussive blast to his skull and the extreme dehydration that his body has thus been through. He began to seizure,  his eyes rolled back into his head and the cough of a death rattle barked from his contorted mouth.<br/><br/>He could see the beautiful angel of death before him, and he reached up and kissed her, knowing full well he'd lived an unfulfilled life. With that Heck went out, and he collapsed in a cold sweat.