Gunslinger's Moon (5 page)

Placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder Jed suggested, “Let’s talk outside.”

The air was cooler and quieter outside. “So you’re Clem’s son?”

The bright eyed youth responded, “Yes, sir.”

Jed eyed Obadiah. “Colonel Clem Thompson?” The boy nodded. “And you want me to…”

“Train me to be a gunslinger.” Obadiah finished his sentence. “Pa said you and your pa were the best men under his command and after the war the best pair in the world for hunting the unnatural.”

“First, there is always someone better, kid.” Coughing, Jed spat a glob of mucus on the ground. “Secondly, did he fail to mention that I retired?”

“I’ve heard what happened here, with the werewolf. Pa always said you retiring was a pile of manure and worth as much. When you left he said it would take five days before you found trouble.”

Jed reflected on that. It was close to the truth. “I never met Clem’s kids,” the gunslinger said. “I remember him talking about them. He said they would never follow his profession.”

“I got five brothers and three sisters. Pa decided to let one become a gunslinger.” Obadiah was still sounding tough. At least trying to. The face was too young to match his words. He had red hair, probably from his ma, and a dash of freckles sprinkling his nose like spices on a dish. 

Jed was silent. “How’d you find me?” He answered his own question. “Your ma, of course.” It could be convenient having a gypsy fortuneteller for a mother.

Jed scratched his cheek. “An apprentice, huh?” Obadiah was dispassionately leaning against the wall. Perhaps an apprentice could be useful, especially if there was a pack of werewolves living in the town. Clem had been tough and built with real grit. The kind of man you wanted in a fight. Maybe it had rubbed off on his son.

“Listen I’m retired. But recent events mean I could use some extra hands. I’ll give you some pointers. Nothing long term.”

Instantly, Obadiah changed. His posture turned more natural, the shoulders slouching and his face breaking into a relieved smile. “Really? Oh, thank you, Mr. Ethan. Thank you. You won’t regret this.” Obadiah expressed his gratitude, profusely shaking his hand.

Jed waved the thanks away. “We’ll start tomorrow. By the way call me Jed.”

Chapter 5

A harsh racking cough wracked his body that morning, waking him up. Half a minute went by as he tried to catch his breath. When it finally subsided, Jed sat back. The convulsions pained his wounds. A tightness gripped his chest beneath the injury. Feeling sore he reluctantly stood up. He was staying back at Ms. Jan’s boarding house. Except in a different room. Splashing some water on his face, he dressed.

From his vest pocket he withdrew the secret case and flipped the lid open. Within its padded walls were six bullets. The silver bullets did not have the same gleam as one would expect silver to have. Of course they were not pure silver, which would be impossible to make a sound shot with. Instead it was a mixture. No set formula existed for the special bullets. Each smith made different types of silver bullets. However, Jed had used other bullets from the same maker, so he knew that his six shots were effective. He had a feeling they would be needed.

Jed met Obadiah at breakfast. The eager youngster was ready for anything, but Jed managed to get him quiet while he ate. Another simple meal of bread and beans mixed with small slices of jerky was served. Black coffee was also available, and the gunslinger had a cup. It was only after breakfast with an empty table and the dishes clear, did Jed turn to his newfound apprentice.

Voice brimming with excitement, Obadiah asked, “Where do we start?” 

“Show me your guns.”

Obadiah pulled the guns, gave them a whirl, and offered the handles first. Dryly, Jed palmed the two revolvers. Little difference separated them from Jed’s. Obadiah had both the Colt Peacemaker and the Kruger. In contrast, the handles were not faded and the metal was shining.

“Stop polishing your guns. They shine like a mirror in the light. You don’t want to give away your position.” Obadiah nodded, intently hearing every word. “Let’s see how you shoot,” Jed said.

The pair went outside in the back, far away from the boarding house. The only thing with them was the sun and dirt. Jed had nabbed several empty cans from breakfast. He placed one a dozen feet away and walked back to Obadiah.

“Hit the can,” was the beginning of a simple order.

Interrupting, Obadiah drew the Colt and fired. There was a ping and the can was kicked in the air. He hit with the next two shots. Full of bravado Obadiah holstered the sidearm.

“With the Kruger,” Jed finished.

Obadiah’s grin slipped a little. “No problem,” he blustered. Less smoothly, he drew the large Kruger. The hammer dragged back and fired like a cannon. Obadiah’s whole arm moved with the blast. A puff of dirt signaled a miss, far to the left of the bean can. The kid tried to hit with the rest his shots left in the chamber. Each missed further than the last. Obadiah squinted in the sun at Jed.

Sheepishly, he remarked even as he massaged his wrist, “I’m a better shot with a Winchester.”

“We don’t use rifles.” The gunslinger stated.

Truthfully, most gunslingers did not. It required two hands and with a caliber the same size as the Colt, not particularly useful, when a werewolf or whatever foul monster got close enough to breathe on you. Adding the speed which a mutt could move, and the longer accuracy of a rifle was not a great benefit. Shotguns were popular with them, but Jed had a fondness for handguns.

He contemplated the abysmal shooting. It was more important to shoot the Kruger than the Colt. Beasts like werewolves needed a strong punch to knock them down. The kid had large enough hands to work the gun. Currently, the weight of it was too much. His hand was shaking like a leaf when he aimed. It did not help that Obadiah was as skinny as a leaf.

Jed instructed, “Get used to holding it out. Build up the muscle in your forearm by holding it out as long as you can every day.”

Suddenly, there was a crack and the can bounced again. Deputy Ross had fired his rifle at the can. Jed took a look at the can and then at the haughty lawman. Silently, he admitted it was a decent shot.

Ross spat on the ground. “Sheriff wants to see you.”

Jed stared at the deputy. Jerking with his head he told Obadiah, “Come on.”

After a long walk in the dry heat, they entered Carter’s office. The sheriff was ill at ease and he paced along the floor. His hat was off and he constantly ran a hand through his thinning hair. When he saw Jed he wrung his hands.

“Who is that,” he jabbed a finger at Obadiah.

Jed introduced, “My new…apprentice, Obadiah Thompson” As he was introduced he stood tall and tried to look tough again.

“Since when?” The sheriff questioned again.

Jed shrugged and sat down, “Since today.”

Carter nodded. Ross took the moment of silence to protest, “Sir, this boy is just a kid. With all due respect, sir, I don’t think we can trust this kid. I’ve seen him shot. As shaky as a leaf.”

Obadiah reddened like sun burn. “Best hope I don’t get a chance to prove you wrong.”

Ross smiled cruelly, “I just may give you a chance.”

“Shut up you two,” Jed snapped. To the sheriff he said, “He works for me, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“Sir,” Ross began.

“Give it a rest, deputy.” Carter wearily took a seat opposite of Jed. “What happens now? What’s your plan?”

“There is not much to do, I’m afraid. Keep asking the miners and citizens if they have seen anything peculiar or not. Hope some information presents itself. I reckon any werewolves will stay low for now or go after me. Either way, not much you have to worry about.”

Sheriff Carter muttered, “You are oddly calm about it. Do you want to stay here, again? It is a little more solid than the boarding house.”

“It may be, but I can handle myself. Wait until the end of the week.”

With a sinking voice the sheriff asked, “What happens then?”

“Full moon.” Jed smiled at what he knew Carter did not want to hear. “They will have to transform. Won’t have to worry about them hiding as humans.” He thought about the cave near where he found Adolf. A good spot to investigate during this next full moon.

Carter mumbled some indiscernible oath. Using his thumbs he massaged his temples. “Can we do anything before then?” He groaned.

The gunslinger did have an idea. “Has anyone gone missing? Any miners or travelers?”

“Missing? No why?”

“This pack is obviously keeping a low profile. However, they still need to feed. Somehow they must be getting food. Think hard, sheriff. Has anyone reported someone missing?”

Carter considered his deputy. “There was that one drunk.”

Ross rolled his eyes, recalling the name. “Seamus O’Malley. Our town’s drunkard. He spends his nights getting kicked out of the miner’s saloons. He made a big stick about seeing some men get attacked. We tried investigating, only he couldn’t remember a damn thing. Not even where he saw it happened. A waste of time.”

Carter nodded, “Waste of time it was. But, it is the only thing that comes to mind.”

Saying he would check it out, Jed left with Obadiah. “Learn how to be quiet when the occasion calls for it. It’s an important lesson most folk don’t ever learn.”

“Are going to talk with the drunk?”

“Yep. First we need to get you a horse. You don’t want to walk to down there.”

There was a man selling horses in town. Since most of his customers were miners the livestock left much to be desired. His only stock were a couple of straggly mustangs. Undernourished and short, Jed nonetheless picked the ‘best’ one. A black mustang, younger than older, and with lots of spirit. Timid horses would not handle the pressure.

“What do you think I should name it?” Obadiah asked as he mounted. The lanky rider made a comical sight on top of his short gelding.

“Don’t name your horses anything” Jed suggested. “I don’t. Horses don’t last long enough in our business to make it worthwhile. The moment you name it, the bloody thing gets killed.”

“Begging your pardon, that ain’t a good reason.” Obadiah patted its neck. “I’ll think of something later. A horse has to have a name.”

They rode out, using a slow canter on account of the horses’ sake. The burning heat had not stopped. Nor did Jed think it would ever end. They first went to Hicks. The old man, it seemed, had not moved since Jed had spoken with him. He was still cradling the shotgun and spitting.

“I reckon you want more words.” Hicks drawled.

“Just a couple.” The gunslinger admitted. “Have any of your miners ever disappeared?”

Hicks grumbled, “I don’t know. I may have seen someone before, then stopped seeing them. I do know a couple, joined the coal miners on account they couldn’t find anything here.” He spat again. “Not like they tried for long.”

“Much obliged.”

To the other side they rode. The coal miners were hard at work, mine carts laden with coal arose from the depths of the mine entrances. The timing was perfect, for Jonathan Reed was inspecting the cart of coal. Dismounted, Jed walked to him.

“What do you want?” Jonathon said coarsely.

Before he could answer a fit of coughing struck him. He held up a hand for patience as it subsided. Clearing his throat he tried again. “I just have a couple of questions to ask. Take but a moment of your time.”

Jonathon glared at the sun for a moment. The foreman’s skin was visibly red. “Take it inside.” He headed for the office.

The short, dark building was a welcome relief from the sun. The visible drop in temperature was relaxing, despite the uneasiness Jed felt whenever his vision had to adjust dramatically. Mostly one large room, Jonathon went to a table filled with papers. Also on it was a canteen. Jonathon poured a dark drink into a shot glass and gulped it down. Rudely, he did not bother offering Jed or Obadiah a drink. Immediately, Jonathon started gagging. Shaking his head he turned to them.

Jed spoke first, “Have any of your men gone missing?”

The foreman gave them a flat look. “Didn’t you already ask? The answer is no. No one has disappeared or acted strange or nothing.” 

Suddenly, one of the miners raced inside. He was covered in dust, dirt, and sweat. “Sir, there has been a collapse in the tunnel.”

Jonathon Reed cursed. He raced out alongside the messenger leaving Jed and Obadiah alone inside.

“We ain’t having much luck,” Obadiah sighed.

Jed went to the table and uncorked the canteen. He took a deep sniff. Once the odor hit him, Jed winced. It was a repugnant smell, made from an unholy mixture of herbs and something else. He handed it to Obadiah who also took a swift sniff.

“Ugh, what is that?” his apprentice protested.

“Nothing I ever smelled before, that is for damn sure.” Jed placed it back. “Let’s go.”

Outside the miners were milling around the cave entrance. Some were still exiting. Jed was not sure how serious the tunnel collapse was, but the large number of miners indicated it was a minor inconvenience.

One of the last miners to exit waved dust and dirt off. He croaked, “Get some shovels, I think some were trapped in the old southern shaft.”

Jonathon Reed bellowed, “We need to secure the shaft. Five volunteers.”

Brave men answered his call and they raced in. The mining operation would be on hold until the situation was resolved. Jed and Obadiah stayed observing the effort. Soon the shaft was declared secure, and shovels were passed out to dig the miners free.

“So maybe the werewolves aren’t kidnapping people,” Obadiah offered as they watched.

Jed rebuked the idea. “They have to be. If they weren’t then they would try to eat the people in town every month. I cannot figure how they are staying so hidden.”

Eventually, it was announced they had dug three men out. Sadly, there was no chance the men lived. They brought the bodies out, loading them onto a wagon. Jed managed to catch a glance of them. He recognized one of them as the belligerent bald man who attacked him at the saloon. The men were covered in dirt. He shook his head. Being buried alive was no way for a man to die. Flicking his reins, he turned away.

That night, they were standing between the saloons. “Here’s the plan,” Jed said. “Look for O’Malley in that saloon and I will check the other one. If you find him, buy him a drink and keep an eye on him.”

Obadiah nodded. “Got it.”

Jed watched his apprentice head inside before entering the other one. The atmosphere was quieter that night. The raucous miners were not as merry. The deaths weighed heavily on the minds.

Jonathon Reed stood on a table. “Listen up lads.” The men went silent in the saloon. “We lost good men today. Three friends. But, we all know that they would want a drink in their memory. So let’s give a toast. A toast to them and everyone else.”

The men raised their glasses and took a deep drink. Jonathon then shouted, “And let’s toast for a free round on the house in memory of them.”

This time the men cheered, liberally drinking from their glasses. Jonathon stepped down from the table and exited the saloon without a word to Jed. The mood was improving as the noise increased. Jed strode to the bar and grabbed the bartender’s attention.

He asked for Seamus O’Malley. The bartender sighed and pointed him out. Seamus was sitting in a corner, alone with several bottles. Jed sat down opposite of him. One of the bottles were empty, he could tell.