COPYRIGHT 2016 Charles F. Millhouse/Stormgate Publishing
CHAPTER ONE
Caleb Johnson stood in the middle of the
street. It had been raining the night before and the road down the center of
New Kingdom was muddy. Hard clumps of earth covered his boots. The morning dew
brought with it a taste of spring that clung to the back of his throat. A chill
hung in the air. He wore his familiar tan trail jacket. It was pulled away from
his right hip. His Schofield hung on his leg, his hand poised over the handle.
Why
am I doing this? Caleb grimaced, his dark blue eyes
shaded by the rim of his Stetson. He stared at the lean boy who stood on the
other side of the street.
The boy was no older
than eighteen. He dressed like a vagrant. His brown pants ripped at the knees
and his shirt was stained with earth. His hair was matted to his head and Caleb
couldn’t tell what color it was through the filth. “What’s it going to be
Sheriff?” the boy stood ready to pull his pistol. Despite his lack of clean clothes,
he did holster a forty-four revolver. Caleb figured he won it in a shootout,
which made the boy a crack shot.
If this was any normal
gunfight, Caleb might have cause to worry. But things weren’t normal. They
hadn’t been normal for nearly four years, when he woke up in the foundry at the
end of town, reborn after being killed by the Black Rider, Lucius Krull.
The angel, Eve, told
him he’d been given a gift – a gift from heaven, a gift to fight back the
demonic creatures determined to take over the world. A gift she took back, with
no explanation.
For six months Caleb
struggled to understand, why Eve would give it all, and then rip away every
ounce of the power bestowed on him – every ounce except one: immortality.
“So, are you going to
skin that pistol and see if you’re faster than I am Sheriff or are we going to
stand here all fucking day?”
Word spread that New
Kingdom had a sheriff that couldn’t be killed. At first Caleb met the
challenges – he wouldn’t back down from a fight, but after putting more men
than he cared to count in the ground, fighting lost its appeal. “Go home kid.
You don’t want to die here!”
Spectators lined the
wooded sidewalk down Main Street. Caleb caught a glimpse of Peter Prokofiev and
Adelaide Turner standing only a few feet away. They both knew the outcome
before it happened. Caleb would win and the boy’s blood would be soaking into
the earth like so many who stood where he was.
“I’m not going to draw
on you kid. I’m not going to do it,” Caleb said. He lowered his jacket over his
pistol and dropped his hand to its side.
The young kid stood
dumbfounded. His eyes widened, his hand twitched. “I’ll do it – I’ll shoot
you!” he screamed.
“Do what you need to,”
Caleb said. “Just don’t be shocked if I don’t participate in the fight.”
The boy grunted with
rage. He whipped his revolver out of its holster and fired.
Bam – bam – bam. Three
shots tore across the street and struck Caleb square in the chest. The force
from the impact knocked him off his feet and he fell backward to the mud. Some
of the women shouted and screamed, but even then they didn’t seem sincere
enough at a man’s inevitable death.
“Goddamn, I’m good!”
the boy shouted and whooped. He twirled his pistol on his finger and shoved it
back in its holster. He stretched out his hands waiting for applause that never
came. His self celebration ended however when Caleb groaned and sat up.
Caleb pushed himself to
his feet. Wisps of smoke fluted out of the holes in his chest. His Stetson fell
off his head and his blond hair strung in front of his face. With his muddy
fingers Caleb dug the slugs from his chest. “I told ya kid, just go home.”
“No – I shot you. I
shot you dead to rights. I never miss.”
“You didn’t miss,”
Caleb replied. He dropped the bloody bullets to the mud.
“I – I want another
go!” the boy shouted. “Another chance to kill you – or you kill me.”
“It’s over,” Caleb
turned.
“Hell no!” the boy
replied. He raced into the crowd of people and grabbed up a young girl. The
five year old screamed, kicked and tried to break away from the arm wrapped
around her. “You’re going to fight me, or I swear to God I’ll kill this girl!”
Adelaide bolted forward
but Peter grabbed hold of her.
Miss Gutter cried out
for her daughter, her arms stretched out for her little Beatrice. The child
cried reaching for her mother.
The boy pointed his
pistol at the mother; the woman stopped, hesitant – water rained from her eyes.
“I swear to GOD, I’ll fucking kill
her!” the boy threatened pressing the end of his pistol against the girl’s
head.
Caleb didn’t reply – he
reacted… too fast for anyone to tell what was happening. He pulled his
forty-five and fired. A look of disbelief riddled across the boy’s face. His
eyes screwed in their sockets – his mouth agape. The boy’s rich dark complexion
paled, he hissed and slurred releasing the girl before dropping to the mud. A
pool of Scarlett surrounded him.
The girl ran to her
mother.
Caleb stared at the
boy’s fallen body. Another one, he
looked away, shamefaced. In the distance four young boys, not older than twelve
stood along the street and stared at him. Their faces emotionless, their eyes
pitted. Caleb watched for a moment but turned away from their impassive stares.
When he glanced back, the four boys had gone.
Caleb walked back into
the jailhouse not giving his silent accusers another thought. His mind raced. Immortality
– he didn’t understand why… why did Eve leave him the power to never die?
Peter followed Caleb.
“You alright?” he asked. His Russian ancient not as prevalent as it once was.
Caleb peeled off his muddy
trail jacket and let it fall to the floor. His pants were wet, but otherwise
unmarked. Blood covered the front of his gray button down. “I just bought this
shirt over at Denver’s Mercantile last week.”
“Maybe Janet will sell
you another one half price. She’s more of a businessman than Edward Jackson
ever was.”
Caleb ripped the shirt
off of him and used it to wipe the blood from his chest, smearing it across his
hairless skin.
“Here, let me do that
for you,” Adelaide Tuner said when she walked into the jailhouse. Her boots
clopped across the hardwood floor and her denim skirt swayed like a Sunday
school bell.
“Is the little girl alright?”
Caleb asked.
“Scared more than
anything else,” Adelaide said. She poured some water from a pitcher and soaked
a rag in it, she pointed at a stool and Caleb sat down. “There’s something you
should know.”
Caleb’s brow wrinkled.
“They’re calling a town
meeting tonight. Word is they want you out as sheriff,” Adelaide said. She
leaned over Caleb, her firm breasts in an orange blouse hung in his face.
Peter leaned against
the wall. His arms folded in front of him. “They… they who?”
“The people in town,”
Adelaide replied. “Their saying you’re bringing an unstable sort into town.”
Peter laughed and
pushed away from the wall. “Are you kidding? Do they know what would be in this
town if Caleb wasn’t here to protect it?”
“You’re preaching to
the choir,” Adelaide said.
“What about Ardine…
He’s the damn mayor. Can’t he sort it out?” Peter asked.
“I don’t know what he
thinks.”
Caleb stood up from the
stool. He’d stopped bleeding and the bullet holes had begun to grow over.
“You don’t seem too
tore up about this decision,” Adelaide said.
Caleb pulled on another
shirt that he found in his footlocker. It smelled musty, but it didn’t have
bullet holes in it. “If they want my job they’re welcome to it,” he said. He
kicked the footlocker back under his bunk.
Peter tipped his
fiddler cap back on his head. “Then where will we go?”
Caleb winced. “What
makes you think you won’t take my place as sheriff?”
Peter laughed. “What
makes you think they’ll replace you with a guy that can turn into a werewolf at
will?” He stared out into the street.
“Good point,” Caleb
replied.
Adelaide chuckled under
her breath. Her eyes twinkled.
“What’s so funny?”
“They might make me sheriff.”
Caleb hesitated.
“What?” Adelaide said.
“I thought you’d go off
with me,” Caleb said. He looked to the floor.
“Sure about that are
you?” Adelaide asked. Her tongue pressed on her upper lip. “Beside I have to
wait for my father. I promised I’d wait until his return.”
“That’s been months ago.
You sure he’s coming back?”
Adelaide didn’t answer.
“There they are again
Caleb,” Peter said from the jailhouse door.
“The nuns?” Adelaide
asked. She joined Peter at the door.
The seven sisters walked
together toward the boy’s fallen body in the street. They dressed in full nun
regalia, their heads covered with hoods, their feet hidden under their long
black dresses.
“They live twenty miles
away. How they are always here when there is a killing is beyond me. It’s like
they know when it’s going to happen,” Adelaide said.
“They give me the
chills,” Peter replied. Dark aura followed the group wherever they went. It
reminded him of a low storm cloud.
Since the sisters
arrived in New Kingdom they kept to themselves. They never came into the town
alone, always as a group, and never
came unless it was for supplies, or to give final rights to a fallen victim.
“They’re your biggest
opponents Caleb,” Adelaide said pointing at the nuns. “They have it in for
you.”
Caleb choked on a
breath when all seven sisters turned and look toward him.
“How did they know…” Shuttered,
Peter folded his arms in front of him. “It just got colder.”
Caleb closed the
jailhouse door and poured himself a cup of coffee. His hands shook. Since the
Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse broke out of the church things didn’t seem the
same in New Kingdom. He forced to hide a grin. Not as if things had been normal…
ever. Caleb possessed a sixth sense. Something left over from his powers that
allowed him to be aware of strange things. The nuns weren’t strange – but damn
peculiar. They took up residence in Daybreak Sanitarium, moved in before Caleb
burned it to the ground and refused to hear his reasoning for wanting to
destroy it. For the past half a year the nuns rebuilt the reputation of the
debunked hospital. They’d become a beacon of hope in the valley. He didn’t
dispute them for that. But Caleb wanted, needed to know more.
“Hey, you alright?”
Adelaide asked.
Caleb turned around to
face her. He sat his cup of coffee on the edge of his desk. “I’m fine... fine.”
Adelaide’s brow
furrowed. “You don’t lie very well.”
Caleb scooted around
his desk and sat in the chair. He pulled his warm cup to him. “Adelaide, I’m
fine.”
“She’s right Caleb
you’re acting skittish,” Peter said.
“Not you too,” Caleb
said and sat back in his chair.
Beatific, Peter
grinned. “Ever since the horsemen…”
“It’s not the horsemen.
It’s –”
“It’s Howard isn’t it?”
Adelaide asked.
Howard Pittman was the
first real friend Caleb had after released from prison, not counting Morning
Dove. When the Indian Maiden needed Caleb’s help, Howard was his friend through
and through. Then something happened to Howard – something Caleb couldn’t
figure out. But since that time six months ago Howard kept his distance, always
watching, as if waiting for something.
“People change,” Caleb
said. “I have no ill will against Howard. He must follow the path he chooses.
He has his reasons – we all do. Who am I to dispute him for his choices?”
Peter opened the front
door. Caleb glanced outside. The nuns had gone. “I’ve got patrol tonight. I’m
going to the hotel and get a couple hours of sleep,” Peter said.
“Ah, Caleb,” Ardine
Forsythe said as he burst into the jailhouse and pushed past Peter. “I suppose
you heard about the meeting tonight?” His perfect teeth gleamed.
Caleb pushed his cool
coffee away from him. “Yeah, I heard.” He picked up his pocket knife and took a
bullet from a box and began to etch a pentagram into the side of it. Finished
he placed it in a carton of other marked shells, took out another one and began
to carve.
“You don’t seem too
upset about it,” Ardine replied.
“I’m not… I don’t give
a damn about it. If they want me out I’ll be happy to go.”
“Oh… oh…” Ardine
flushed white – his brow furrowed. “Well you can’t do that – you have to stay
here in New Kingdom. What about the war to come?”
Caleb slammed his
pocket knife down and stood. “I know all about the war to come,” he said. If
anyone knew about the war it was Caleb. Even with his angelic powers taken from
him, he still retained the information Eve taught him about demons, monsters
and all the things that go bump in the night.
“You have to be at the
meeting tonight… you have to be. You have to convince the people of this town
that you’re the right man for the job.”
“I can’t do that
Ardine, because I’m not sure I am anymore,” Caleb said and noticed the
quizzical look from Adelaide. “You think I should?”
“Yes,” Peter spoke up
before Adelaide responded.
“I thought you were
going to take a nap?” Caleb snapped.
“I’m going – I’m
going,” Peter said with a wide smile and walked out of the jailhouse.
Caleb looked at
Adelaide. “Well…”
Adelaide’s small button
nose wrinkled. “Frankly, yes I think you should go tonight. You’re a good
sheriff. I might not know everything you’ve gone though since you met that
Indian…”
“Morning Dove – and no
you don’t. No one does,” Caleb snapped. His training, his angelic powers and
the loss of them would remain his secret. He couldn’t hide the fact that he was
immortal. But his life was his own. Caleb cleared his thoughts. If he left New
Kingdom with the coming war what kind of person would he be? He’d never ran
from a fight and he wasn’t about to begin now. “Alright, Ardine, I’ll go
tonight.”
Ardine slapped his
hands together and rubbed them. “You won’t regret it Caleb – you won’t regret
it.”
Something told Caleb,
Ardine would eat those words sooner or later.