I’ll understand if you hate me, I’ll understand if you think I’m a rotten son of a bitch for being the one who writes this, but I don’t care, Bill Sheppard’s story has to be told.  And I’m about the best man you can get to tell it.  I’m Luke Holloway.  I’m the man who betrayed Bill Sheppard.  I’m the reason he’s dead.          

There’s a lot that’s been told about Bill Sheppard, a lot good, and a lot more that’s bad.  Almost none of it’s true.  The stories that you hear are a mix of conjecture, lies, distortion, and wishful thinking.  Bill Sheppard wasn’t an hero, he wasn’t an avenging angel, he wasn’t a man with an axe to grind, and he wasn’t a man who cracked under the pressure of being a Peacemaker and became some wild killing machine.  No, Bill wasn’t any of those things.  He was just a man who tried to carry out the Code, a man who tried to do his job, and it killed him in the end.       

I still don’t know why it is that I decided to write this.  All it’s likely to end up doing is bringing more people after me, but I don’t care.  Like I said, Bill Sheppard’s story has to be told.  I guess I feel like I owe it to the man.  He had a chance to do a lot of harm to me when I was a young man, but he didn’t.  He also saved my life a few times out in the Badlands.  All that made it even harder for me to do what I did, but in the end, I think you’ll see why I did it.             

I’ve been told that writing about the life of Bill Sheppard is just a way for me to take away the guilt for what I did, and maybe that’s true, maybe I am just doing this to make myself sleep easier at night.  I don’t know for sure, I wish I did, but I don’t.  No matter what my motivations are, it’s time the truth got told, or at least the truth as I understand it.           

In addition to the narrative, I’ve included my commentary on Bill Sheppard’s life.  You may disagree with the conclusions I’ve drawn, but keep in mind that I knew him better than anyone else in S’Anthony, except for one person, and she won’t talk about Bill Sheppard to anyone, so I’m more than likely right.  

-- Written in a Protection Compound Seven Years after the Death of Bill Sheppard

“So, we got a deal or not?” Bill Sheppard asked Fritz McCarty.

Sheppard and Fritz were haggling over a little theft matter.  Sheppard’s Seeker took some money by mistake, but Fritz’ Seeker said that it was just revenge for getting fired.  While theft wasn’t highly looked upon in general,(1) theft for revenge was looked down upon even more.(2)  Sheppard’s Seeker had a pretty good excuse, the money was some back pay owed to him, but given that the Seeker was a Badlander, Sheppard wasn’t too sure that the Peacemaker would find him credible.

Fritz thought it over for a moment, groaned, and then said, “Fine, fine.  Just have him pay it back and throw in some interest on it.  Let’s just get this blasted thing done with.  My Seeker should have forgotten about this whole damned thing months ago, but you know how these things can get.”

“Do I ever,” Sheppard said as he and Fritz shook hands, “I’ll go talk to my Seeker and have him start making payments right away.”

“Good, good.  I’d just as soon not take this to the Peacemaker.  This looks like nothing but bad blood between an employer and an employee, there’s no need to have someone lose their hand over it.

“I agree with you there, Fritz.  I just hope our Seekers will calm down and let cooler heads prevail.  This is a good deal, it’s the best for everyone involved."

Sheppard and Fritz exchanged a few more pleasantries before Sheppard said, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your willingness to work with me on this.  Not too many people have wanted much to do with me of late.”

Fritz laughed a bit and then said, “Not that I can hardly blame ‘em, Bill.  In the year or so since that whole mess with Vance Milligan, you and that pistol of yours have had some deadly conversations with a good number of Peacemakers and a fair share of Proponents.”

“People reap what they sow, Fritz.”

“Boy ain’t that the truth, Bill.  But you were always straight with me when I had dealings with you, so I didn’t figure there’d be any harm in meeting with you.”

“Well, I appreciate it, Fritz, I do.  I’m just trying to do for my Seeker what the Code allows, and it’s always good to deal with someone who has the same mindset.”

Fritz reached down below his desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, “You got time to have a drink with me, Bill?  I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since you went off the reservation and I’d love to hear some new war stories.”

Sheppard smiled at that.  People outside of the Badlands had shunned him since he made Peace with Vance Milligan, and the chance for human contact was an offer he couldn’t pass up.

“Sure thing, Fritz, fill it up.”

“Well, I hope you won’t mind having more than one, because once I get the bottle open . . .”

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“You sure, Bill?” Fritz asked while pouring two glasses, “I remember you becoming quite the teetotaler when you made Peacemaker.  But if you think you can drink with the big boys, go right ahead.”

Fritz slid a glass over to Sheppard.  He slowly picked it up and let out a laugh, “I appreciate the concern, Fritz, but I think I’ll manage just fine.”

"Well, that’s the kind of guy I am, Bill,” Fritz paused to down his drink and then refilled his glass, “But since you mentioned how concerned I am about you, how are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Fritz, I’m fine.  Life in the Badlands has been a little rough, but I make out all right.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but that’s not exactly what I was getting at.”

Sheppard swallowed his drink and then motioned for another.  Fritz filled his glass, Sheppard picked it up and said, “I don’t know, Fritz.  When I was a Peacemaker, everything was pretty simple.   The Code says that you have to take a certain course of action and you do it.  But now, out in the Badlands, working for Seekers, I don’t know.  It’s tough.”

“The life of Proponents and Opponents are supposed to be tough,” Fritz said while taking a sip, “You don’t command those big fees for nothing, you know.  Of course, the inherent conflict between the two duties only makes a tough job tougher.  The oath you take is to carry out the Code, but the commitment to the Code and the duty to your Seeker (3) go together like oil and water sometimes.”

“How do you do it, Fritz?” Sheppard asked after taking a sip.

“How do I do what?”

“How do you balance the two out?  What do you do when your duty to the Code and your duty to your Seekers conflict?”  

“Well, you just asked the ultimate question, didn’t you?” Fritz took a sip, followed by a deep breath and then exhaled, “I don’t know, Bill.  The two don’t conflict that often if you do the right thing and screen the Seekers well.  If you take the good ones and avoid the bad ones, you won’t have too many ethical quandaries, as the philosophers say.”

“But they do come up, don’t they?” Sheppard asked after taking another sip.

“Yeah, they do.”

“And what do you do then?”

“I don’t recollect you asking too many questions when you were a Peacemaker, Bill.  What gives?”

“Humor me, Fritz.  What do you do when your duty to the Code and your duty to your Seeker conflict?”

Fritz finished his drink and then said, “I just try to do what I think is right.”

“That’s how you resolve your dilemmas?  You just try and do what you think is right?”

“Well, Bill, there ain’t a whole lot more you can do than that.  I know all about the classes and the ethical rules and all the other stuff that you get brainwashed with before you can become a Peacemaker, Proponent, or Opponent, but none of that really matters.  The way I look at it, you either know what’s right or you don’t.  If you know what’s right, you’ll do right.  If you don’t know what’s right, or don’t care, you won’t do right.”

Sheppard looked down at his drink, sighed, and then said, “So it just comes down to doing what we think is right?  The Code, the Maxims, and the Precepts don’t matter?  It’s just what the individual thinks is right?”

“Good Lord, Bill, what is all of this about?” Fritz said after finishing his second drink.

Sheppard tried to laugh it off and then took a sip of whiskey.  He looked around Fritz’ office and then said, “It’s nothing, Fritz, nothing.  I haven’t had much of an opportunity for philosophical discourse since relocating to the Badlands is all.”

“Well good,” Fritz responded while pouring himself another round, “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d be worried about you.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, Fritz,” Sheppard said while turning his eyes to the floor, “Just making conversation.”

“Did you know that I almost became a preacher before I went into this line of work?”

“No, Fritz, I didn’t know that about you,” Bill said while laughing, “I always wondered where that fondness for scripture in your legal briefs came from.”  The two shared a laugh over that.  Fritz had acquired quite the reputation for using religion to supplement his legal conclusions.  Most Opponents and Peacemakers thought that Fritz used scripture to knock the other side off guard when he was trying to get a Peacemaker or an Intermediary Board to accept a questionable interpretation of the Code.

“Yeah, it’s true, Proponent Fritz McCarty was almost Preacher Fritz McCarty,” he said with the grin of the person recalling fond memories from the path not taken, “A lot of what I learned in seminary sticks with me today, it helps me in all sorts of ways, kind of gives me an edge over the other Proponents out there.  The training really comes in handy when I’ve got a Seeker who’s got a problem that he refuses to acknowledge or doesn’t even realize he has.”

“Is that a fact?” Sheppard responded while turning his glass around in his hands.

“Yeah, it is, Bill, it is,” Fritz said while looking directly at Sheppard, “I often tell those Seekers the story of a man called Mr. Black.  Mr. Black was a man who was out in the wilderness, wandering around, giving sermons to the people.  He was a man who could preach hot hell in the freezing snow, you know, that type of guy.  But he had a darker side, a lot of secrets.  He was a lonely man, kept to himself.  He used to close his sermons talking about the lonesome valley people have to walk in.  He’d talk about how no one else could walk in that valley for you, how you’d have to walk that valley by yourself.  It didn’t matter what the sermon was about, it would always end that way.”

“Sounds a lot like a folk song I remember hearing once or twice, Fritz,” Sheppard said in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“Like I said, Bill, I almost became a preacher.  I guess you figured out why.”

“Your congregation wasn’t too fond of music, huh?” The two men shared a laugh at that.  Sheppard finished his drink, stood up, and then said, “Well, thanks for the drink, Fritz, I enjoyed it.  And thanks for . . .”

“Bill Sheppard!” a man from outside Fritz’ office yelled out, “This is Peacemaker Stephen Cooper and I’ve got a posse with me.  We aim to take you into the Prime Polis so you can stand trial for the murders of multiple Peacemakers, among others.  You’ve got one minute to come out.”

Sheppard pulled out his pistol while moving behind Fritz’ desk and said, “Damnitt!  Fritz, I’m sorry, I don’t want you to get messed up in all of this.  Do you have another way out?”

“Sure, just go into my bathroom over there and . . .”

At that moment the door flew open and the posse started shooting.  Sheppard dipped below the desk and pulled Fritz down with him.  The bullets missed Sheppard, but Friz had holes in his chest and head. 

Sheppard stared at Fritz’ dead body while the posse came into the room, surrounded him, and ordered him to put his pistol down.  Sheppard just stared at Fritz while the posse moved in to arrest him.

No one’s really sure how Bill managed to get out of that one, but he did.  Bill was surrounded by sixteen men, but he was the only one who walked away.  Those who were outside Fritz’ office are adamant about what happened and their stories’ are almost one-hundred percent identical.  But if you don’t believe them, you can read the newspaper accounts and see the photographs of the dead posse.  Regardless of whether you believe it or not, sixteen men went into Fritz McCarty’s office that day, and Bill Sheppard was the only one who left alive. Sure, he had a mess of blood on him, but none of it was his. 

People didn’t see what happened inside Fritz’ office, but several people ran up to see what was going on when the bullets started flying.  Bill gunned down four in the office, another three in the hallway just outside the door, and four more who tried to make it down the stairs.  Witnesses saw five men run out of the office in a panic followed by a man who leapt down three flights of stairs and come up firing.  The five who made it out went down one by one by one by one by one.

Not all of the men died instantly after being shot, most of the men in the hall and on the stairs died from blood loss.  Those who were able to give an account of what happened told the same stories that the witnesses did.  As for the five in the street, Bill wounded most of them and then walked up to them and finished them off with a shot through the head.

While Bill killing the ones who crossed him didn’t surprise me, I had a hard time believing that he had single-handedly killed sixteen men.  When I first heard the story, I thought that maybe Fritz didn’t die at first, that maybe Fritz helped take a few of them out, but I saw a picture of Bill that changed all of that.
One of the local newspapers ran a photo of Bill standing over one of the men in the posse with his pistol pointed at the man’s head.  It was a sunny day, and Bill’s face came through pretty clear, despite the shadow his hat cast.  When I looked at the contained, directed rage in Bill’s eyes, I didn’t doubt for a second that he killed each and every one of those men himself.  That’s the kind of man Bill was.

After getting away from the ambush, Sheppard made it quietly back to the Badlands.  It was a fairly peaceful train ride back to S’Anthony.  No one hassled him, no one tried to approach him, and everyone more or less let him keep to himself.  He was quiet the entire trip, he spoke a few words to the staff, largely ignored the passengers, and tried to focus on what to do next.  The attack by the posse was quite a surprise to Sheppard given that the Peacemaker-hierarchy and the Council of Nine had more or less left him alone the last year.  In fact, the last time a Peacemaker came for him like that was when he first traveled to the Badlands, a few weeks after he killed Vance Milligan, and that Peacemaker ended up dead.

When he first arrived in S’Anthony, Sheppard went to work for the people there, generally helping them with minor legal issues, but also trying to get them out of larger problems like Defaults.  He had managed to smooth over most of them without incident, but Sheppard encountered fraud on the part of the Peacemakers or the Proponents a few times.  While Sheppard always tried to resolve these problems by bringing the fraud to light and trying to follow the Code, he usually ended up walking away from a dead body. 

The trail of dead bodies had given Bill quite the reputation.  The common man, if you will, looked at Bill as if he were an hero, a true man of the people, a man you could count on to stand up to the corruption of the empowered.  Other people weren’t so sure.  The Prime Polis issued a directive to all Peacemakers that Bill was a fugitive from the Code and granted them the authority to make Peace with Bill forthwith.  The newspaper editorialists generally supported the Prime Polis, but many were concerned about the possible corruption of the Code by those who were supposed to enforce it and carry it out.  While none of the editorialists condoned Bill’s actions, they noted that when Peacemakers fail to carry out the dictates of the Code, self-help and vigilante justice are the natural consequences.

Bill put little thought into any of that.  He just went to work each morning and tried to carry out the duty he owed to his Seekers. 

When Sheppard made it back to S’Anthony, he stopped by the Crosstown Saloon/Motel.  Sheppard found the place when he first relocated to the Badlands and established a mutually beneficial relationship with the bartender-now-owner, Audra.  Sheppard initially lived at the motel for free, but moved out to cut down on harassment from Peacemakers and their agents.  After moving out, he used the place to meet Seekers.  In return, Sheppard kept out the troublemakers and enforced Audra’s rules. 

Audra ran a tight ship at the Crosstown, which was a sharp departure from her predecessor.  No getting rough with the girls, no walking out without paying, and no breaks to anyone.  While the prior owner had his own side deals with the clientele and kept the girls from getting their cut, Audra put a stop to all of that.  Sheppard was her enforcement mechanism, and no one dared cross him. 

When Sheppard entered the motel, he walked up to the bar and found Audra looking down at the floor.  While this was normal when they first met, Audra had grown more authoritative over the last year and rarely looked down to anyone, least of all Bill Sheppard.

“You all right, Audra?”

“I’m fine, Peacemaker.”

“Okay,” he said with a hint of skepticism, “Any Seekers come this way while I was gone?”

“Just the usual, I left their information with Luke,” Audra said while she moved a rag over a glass that had already been thoroughly cleaned.

Sheppard reached out with his left hand and gently touched Audra’s chin.  She shuddered a little bit, but didn’t withdraw.  He turned her face up from the floor and got a good look at the bruises and the scar on her face.  He took it all in while Audra stared at his eyes.

“Who did this?”

“A Peacemaker.”

“Which one?”

“Said his name was Dick Shelton.”

“What happened?” Sheppard asked while taking his hand from Audra’s face. 

“He came with a posse to bring you in,” she said, her eyes fixed on Sheppard’s face, “It was the usual stuff, same thing that always happens when you leave town.  But this guy was a little different, he didn’t just say he was looking for you and ask people if he’d seen you.  He kicked everyone but two of the customers out of the bar and started beating on them, beating on them like a madman.  He was wild, Peacemaker, full of anger.  Told me that he’d stop once I told him where you were.  I told him he might as well go on forever, because I wasn’t going to tell him nothing, and that’s when he came at me.  He slapped my face, pulled me up off the floor, then hit me with his gun and I fell down again.  After that, he took his knife to me and told me to give you the message.  Him and his boys left after that.”

“He just cut you that one time?”

“Yes, Peacemaker.”

“He do anything else to you?”

“No.”

Sheppard looked down at his feet for a moment and let the anger and shame at not being able to protect Audra work through his body.  After that, he looked up and said, “I’m sorry, Audra, it’s my fault.  I’ll handle the Seekers myself from now on, there’s no need for me to put you at risk.”

“You don’t have to do that, Peacemaker.”

“Audra, if I keep doing business here, it’ll be nothing but trouble and . . .”

“There’s always been a lot of trouble around me, Peacemaker.  At least with you around, I can control it.”

Sheppard looked calmly at Audra and absentmindedly put his hand on his pistol.  “You said his name was Dick Shelton?”

“That’s what he called himself.”

“I’ll be back in a few weeks.  I’ll tell Luke to watch over the place.”

“I’ll see you soon, Peacemaker.”

Sheppard turned around and walked back out of the saloon with his hand wrapped around his pistol.

A few days later, Sheppard arrived at Dick Shelton’s office in the Dorchester Sub-District in the middle of the night.  He picked the lock on the back door and went inside.  He made his way to Shelton’s office, sat down in Shelton’s chair, and waited for morning.

I used to get asked “When?” and “Why?” a lot.  While those questions may seem open-ended and vague to most people, I knew exactly what the questions were about.  As to “When?”, the people wanted to know at what point Bill Sheppard stopped being a former Peacemaker who tried to carry out the Code while working as an advocate for the Badlanders.  If I had to pinpoint an exact moment, it would have to be his encounter with Dick Shelton, and that moment also explains why he became what he became.
 You see, when Bill saw Audra all bruised and with the cut on her face, he knew that he wouldn’t be left alone by the Council of Nine and the Prime Polis.  They would come after him until he was no longer a threat, and if they couldn’t get to him, then they would go after the ones closest to him.  Bill wanted to give them one last chance to keep it civil, to keep it amongst themselves, and to let the Council know what would happen if it didn’t. 
He did that by delivering a message to Dick Shelton.

Dick Shelton arrived at 9:30 the next morning to find Bill Sheppard sitting in his chair. 

“Who the hell are you, mister?” Shelton asked while closing his door.

“You left a message with a woman at the Crosstown Saloon in S’Anthony for me.”

“Bill Sheppard I take it,” Shelton said while pulling a chair up to his desk and sitting down.

“That’s right, Shelton,” Sheppard said, “I’m not too happy about what you did to Audra.  What I’ve done doesn’t involve her.  I expect her to be left out of it from now on.”

“Sheppard, you’re a damned fool,” Shelton said with a slight laugh, “What happened with you involves whoever they say it involves.”

Sheppard didn’t respond and kept his eyes on Shelton.

“Look, Sheppard,” Shelton said with a bit of a wheeler-dealer tone in his voice, “why don’t you just end this crazy revenge mission you’ve put yourself on . . .”

“This isn’t about revenge, Shelton, it’s about carrying out the Code.”

“You can call it whatever the hell you want,” Shelton responded, “but it should end.  There’s no reason to let this thing drag on any longer.  You’ve made your point, enough’s enough.”

“Sorry, Shelton, but I’ve got a lot of work left to do.”

“Well, that’s fine, Sheppard,” Shelton said with a hint of anger, “but you’ll just cause your friends to keep getting hurt.”
Sheppard said nothing.

“You see,” Shelton continued, “you may think that since you’re the one who actually killed Milligan, Kilgore, and all those other fellows that they’ll just go after you, that they’ll just try to kill you.  But they won’t, Sheppard, they won’t.  They’ll try and hurt whoever they have to so they can get to you.  It’s your own damned fault, really.  If you hadn’t been so hard to catch, that girl of yours wouldn’t have had to get hurt like that.  But since you wanted to make it hard . . .”

The shot came out of Sheppard’s pistol so fast that Shelton didn’t know what happened.  After the initial shock, he pulled himself together just before he hit the floor.  He went for his gun right about the instant he made contact, but Sheppard was faster and made it around the desk with plenty of time to kick Shelton’s gun away. 

“God damn you, Sheppard!  What the hell was that for?”

“You got what you deserved, Shelton.  Now I want you to deliver a message for me”

“Fuck you, Sheppard,” Shelton said through clenched teeth while spitting at Sheppard.  Sheppard responded by pointing his pistol at Shelton’s left knee and firing a round into it.  Shelton screamed in pain, but Sheppard kicked him in the stomach to silence him.  Shelton looked at Sheppard with anger practically shooting out of his eyes and asked, “What do you want?”

“I want you to tell the people in the Prime Polis that all of this, everything I do, goes no further than me.  It affects no one but me and the people I make Peace with.”

“You’re not a damned Peacemaker, Sheppard, you’re . . .”

He kicked Shelton in the side again and Shelton stopped talking.

“I talk, you listen,” Sheppard said calmly, despite the rage that boiled his blood, “Like I said, everything that I do is on me and me alone.  No one else has a thing to do with it.  You understand me?’

“It doesn’t matter, Sheppard.  You can say it’s just about you, but it’s not.  You know that.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, I asked you if you understood the message you’re to deliver.”

The two stared at each other, both of them getting angrier with each passing moment.  Finally, Shelton broke the silence.

“Just who do you think you are, Sheppard?  You think that some rogue Peacemaker can stand up to the Prime Polis and the Council of Nine?  Really, Sheppard, just who in the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m the Feuerhammer, Shelton.  Make sure to tell them that,” Sheppard fired a round into Shelton’s right knee and made his way back to the Badlands while Shelton screamed for help.

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