True Justice

The wind howled in his ears, harsh against the beauty of the moonlit sky.

He urged his horse faster no longer caring about the treacherous desert ground. One gopher hole or misplaced rock spelled certain doom ... or worse, capture. He had to reach the border before the posse caught him.

'Posse!' he thought, bitterly.

There would be no justice at the hands of the men following him. Innocence mattered not in this untamed land. Avenging the death of an only son spurred that murderous group on.

Looking up, he yelled, "Can you fix it?" He was certain his plea fell on deaf ears.

He was also sure his fate rested on the whim of fire ants, staked near a colony with honey on his naked body. He'd seen their justice, even taking part in that barbarous act himself, never thinking his life might be forfeit in such a manner.

He pulled up short at the top of the ridge, rider and horse gasping for breath. Freedom was a scant quarter mile away, but the path down the steep bank was as slim as his chance for survival.

His spurs nudged his horse forward.

He felt the intense pain in his back just before he heard the crack of the rifle. Struggling to stay in the saddle, he tried tightening his legs around his horse. They didn't respond; the bullet severed his spinal cord. Darkness mercifully enveloped him as he fell to the rocky ground.

He woke to the evil faces staring at him. Raising his head, he saw an army of ants crawling slowly up his legs. He felt no pain.

He smiled at the faces, thanking the Almighty for the poor aim of the cowboy who'd shot him. He closed his eyes for the last time.

Word Count: 297

Written for the "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge"  with the 6/24 Prompt: "Can you fix it?"