Gunslinger's Moon (19 page)

“What happened? Is that Grady?” Obadiah asked in disbelief.

“Not here,” Jed whispered. A large bead of sweat entered his eyes and he jadedly rubbed it.

At the house, Jed told them, “I believe everything should be fine. Your friends tried to rob me and run out of town.” Dane cleared his throat and protested innocence. Jed waved him down. Lighting a cigar, Dane nervously took a long draw.

“Listen,” Jed said. “I ain’t holding anything against you. I reckon if you had known you would have been there. You weren’t, so we have a different issue to settle. Are you staying?” The question was not directed only at Dane. The gunslinger’s eyes stared at Ben too.

Jed was reluctant to fire another of his dwindling group so he would allow Dane to stay if he wished. Dane released a long puff of smoke and stated he was willing to stay. Ben nodded in agreement.

“Good.” Jed stood up, belatedly realizing he had sunken to the floor. Before he passed out he needed to make it upstairs and the soft bed that was inviting him.

Tendrils of smoke drifted in the air. Taking a breath, Jed inhaled the fumes. The smoke irritated his throat, setting off another round of coughs. He tried to climb the stairs. The first attempt failed, his foot slipped and he stumbled. Obadiah rushed over, supporting his weight. Together they climbed the stairs. It was an agonizing journey for Jed. Every time he caught his breath, he commenced hacking out his lungs. Gratefully he collapsed on his bed, wheezing ragged breaths into the sheets.

“You need a doctor,” Obadiah stated.

“Wouldn’t do any good.” Jed panted. Using his remaining strength he flipped over to his back.

“You’re dying.” Jed was disintegrating before Obadiah’s eyes. The previous nights Obadiah had lost countless hours of sleep listening to the hacking.

“I’m dying slowly,” Jed pitifully remarked. “A doctor ain’t gonna help.”

Jed closed his eyes, hearing his own gasping, awaiting the time he stopped altogether. Or until he literally coughed up one of his lungs. Several times he thought he was close. Obadiah’s footsteps indicated he had left. Jed had been the same way as his father died. Torn between sadness and anger that his father had not looked for a doctor. However, nearing his deathbed, Jed’s dad had found the strength to get from his bed and hunt a werewolf rumored to be in the area. They had killed each other by the time Jed caught up to his dad. He had burned both bodies afterwards, unsure of his feelings as the pyre grew high.

It had been miserable though, watching his father die. Then in the end he had not had the chance to say goodbye. Jed had never felt as wretched as he gazed upon the flames. It had not been grief, contrary to what Clem Thompson said, that caused him to leave home and travel west. Instead it was the knowledge that eventually he would exhibit the same symptoms his father had. Consumption. Death by coughing was how Jed morosely viewed it. Hurling himself westward, heeding advice that drier weather was beneficial. San Francisco was said to have a sanatorium, a place where people with consumption could go. Though it was only a delay, there was no cure for the disease. He had traveled anyways.

A journey that had ended him in this godforsaken town. A couple months ago he had felt the first signs, recognizing them based on what his father endured. But like his father and contrary to his first plan, Jed now planned one last hunt to see him away. Admittedly, his version of a final hunt was turning to be slightly more grandiose than his father’s. A slight smile touched his lips. He could imagine his father’s exasperation.

Obadiah was pacing downstairs to the consternation of Dane and Ben. It highlighted how grave it was. The two men had been shocked by the frightful condition Jed had shown. There were many steps to declining health, but the last one had the sudden stop. Recognizing the severity of the problem, they shifted in their seats. Ben was willing and able to kill any monsters. He also wanted to live and if Jed was unable to fight, that chance diminished rapidly.

Dane had put out his cigar once the hacking had begun, resisting the urge to light another. This job was about the only legal one he had done in years. Most of the time he had robbed banks. That had been the plan with Grady, Samuel, and Tobias. Escaping a posse they had drifted to this developing town by accident. Learning the occasional nugget of gold being mined nearby, three of them volunteered to guard the new bank. Their plan was to wait for time to pass and lawmen stopped looking for them, and for the bank to fill up nicely. Unfortunately, the men had chickened out and blundered the plan.

Dane was willing to fight werewolves and vampires. Never could it be said, he ran from a fight. Also he had gotten used to not escaping every time they spotted a lawman. Not that they had seen any. This town was as isolated as could be. Plus maybe it was time to shoot straight. He had grown apart from his comrades over the months. Considering they had planned the robbery of Jed without him, they must have felt the same way. Unlike them, certain things he did during the war had left him uncomfortable. Riding with a partisan band had seen a lot of questionable attacks on questionable targets. The benevolence of Dane only extended so far, he still expected to receive the shares of his three fallen comrades even if they had turned into traitors. It was not like the gunslinger was short on cash, merely health.

Meanwhile he wasn’t the only one thinking. A thousand thoughts were running wild in Obadiah’s head. Jed was becoming increasingly sick, soon he would not be able to fight. Obadiah liked the gunslinger, thinking of him as a mentor and a friend. Selfishly, he also knew that he needed Jed so he could become a better gunslinger himself. There was a lot to learn. Jed could not die. Obadiah had to do something. Anything. Maybe the witch doctor Nadi could make a portion. He was that desperate.

Obadiah declared, “I’ll be back.”

Leaving the two men to wonder, the red haired youth practically ran out the door. A short sharp whistle and Indomitable trotted toward him. Lately he had begun leaving his horse in the side of the house under shade, saddled and ready to ride at his whistle. Pa always said he was good with horses. Rubbing Indomitable’s noise, he swung his long legs over the saddle.

He searched for Nadi in the mining camp, riding between the tents and buildings. One person was walking by and Obadiah asked him if he knew. He was told her cabin was beyond the town and close to the mine. Slightly isolated, it would take several minutes to ride to the mine. It had to be hers, an abundance of garden life freakishly grew around. Hard and rapid, Obadiah knocked on the door.

Nadi impatiently swung the door open. “What do you want?” she demanded irritated as she saw the red head.

Obadiah stuttered in face of her hostility, “Jed is sick…and he needs help.”

“There is a doctor in town, go ask him,” She reminded.

He placed a foot in the door before she fully closed it. “A doctor cannot help. Please,” he pleaded.

“So it is serious,” she reflected to herself. “I assumed it would be. He has been sick for a while.”

He petitioned, “Will you help? I think he is going to die. He seems resigned to it, but I know you can save him.”

Nadi reprimanded, “What do you know?”

However, she did not say no and Obadiah beseeched her with a begging look. The odor of plants and concoctions wafted in the air. Surely one of those things could save Jed. 

“I will ask Beth,” Nadi decided.

“Why?” He could not help asking.

“I do not know if she wants him to live,” replied Nadi coolly. “Wait here, I will talk with her.”

Obadiah was left alone on the porch waiting. Nadi started walking away. He fiddled his thumbs for a while, passing the long wait in the shade. Rolling wheels broke his idle worried thoughts. Henry, the old butler, was driving a wagon with Beth as a passenger hiding in the shade of an umbrella.

“Good day Obadiah,” greeted Beth from atop the one horse wagon.

Obadiah waved tensely. “Will you help?”

Nadi stepped down from the back. “What sickness does he have?”

“I’m not sure. I keep asking, but he never tells me what’s wrong. He does cough all day and night. I’ve even seen him spit blood out.”

She clicked her tongue. “I will bring something,” she said, heading inside.

Taking in the wagon, Obadiah said to Beth, “You aren’t coming.” Unfortunately, it came out more as a question and not as a strong assertion like he intended.

A solitary eyebrow raised on her unblemished face. “Of course I am. There is no reason I should not.”

He shuffled his feet. Jed would already be mad if he brought Nadi. Bringing Beth on top of that would not please the gunslinger at all. “It’s too dangerous on account of the werewolves,” he argued.

“I believe I can take care of myself.” Suddenly, two long teeth appeared in Beth’s mouth. “Don’t you think so?” Obadiah swallowed, completely ill at ease. What else could he say? Beth continued, “In any event, we are hardly going to advertise the fact we are arriving. We will come around the back, unseen by any of our furry friends.”

Kicking the dirt, Obadiah waited for Nadi to finish preparing. She came out shortly, hands full of jars and a basket, plants sticking out of the wicker top. “Go,” she said.

Henry flicked the reins and the wagon lurched forward. Contemplating how out of hand his plan had already gotten and wishing it didn’t get worse, Obadiah swung atop Indomitable. He followed them from behind. They did not enter town by way of the marked trail. Going off the beaten path, they swung out around over rough terrain and came to the back of the house. No buildings were behind it, the back opened to the empty dust of the land.

Obadiah knocked on the back door, calling out his name. Cautiously, the door opened. Ben looked through the small crack. Making sure it was Obadiah, he opened it more. Then he saw Beth and the others. Obadiah stopped him from reaching for his guns.

“They’re fine.” Obadiah said.

Ben stepped back. Dane was nearby, as confused when he saw Beth enter. Both knew she was a vampire. Obadiah told them where Jed was, and then explained to Ben and Dane what was happening.

Jed heard the shuffling feet in his room. There was several of them, indicating it was not just Obadiah. Wearily he opened his eyes and raised his head. Beth, Nadi, and Henry were gazing down at him. Muttering, he dropped back on the pillow.

Nadi stated, “You are sick.”

“Is that what this is?” Jed retorted flippantly in the midst of a rasping cough.

“You know what you have.” Nadi gathered.

“Yeah.” Jed sighed rubbing his eyes.

Beth was waiting impatiently and she snapped, “So what is it?”

Jed propped himself on his elbows, making his head light. “Consumption.”

There was a brief silence. “I cannot make a potion to save you,” informed Nadi.

Jed nodded, unsurprised. It was why he did not ask previously. When his father was sick, he had scoured the states looking for anyone who could do something. The best to be offered was delaying. No one had any cure. It was a death sentence, one his father did not prolong by taking anything. Like in most things with his father, Jed had similar thoughts on the subject.

Beth brought a hand to her mouth. “I am sorry, Jed.”

“I’m not dead yet.” He responded. “And I don’t plan on dying until I resolve some business first.”

Nadi said, “I can make something to give you strength.”

“I’ll manage,” declined Jed.

However, Beth was not giving up so easily. “Don’t be a fool. If something happened because you were not strong enough, how could you live with yourself? Especially if someone like Obadiah got hurt.” Her eyes flashed with anger.

Jed was to weary to fight. Perhaps she did have a point. Though Obadiah was frowning. Being used as an excuse wasn’t part of his plan. Jed assented and Nadi rummaged into the jars she brought. What she decided to give him looked disgusting. The color was similar to green mud, if that was possible. Long strands of grass had been mixed in without being chopped. The concoction was placed in a small glass. Giving a halfhearted cheers he dumped it into his mouth. Half chewing and half drinking, he managed to put it down. Disgusting flavors crawling in his taste buds made him shiver in aversion.

“Rest,” Nadi demanded.

He found himself closing his eyes in acquiescence. Beth squeezed his hand.

Chapter 13

Then they opened. It was night, bright white light of stars was coming in a window. The constant pain in his chest, which had accompanied him for the last several days, was gone. Feeling the relief, he rubbed his chest. Strength had returned to his limbs, to his whole body. He sat up. For a moment he wondered if, against all odds, he had been cured. Jed coughed, the same horrible barking noise as earlier. Feeling healed was not the same as being healed he discovered.

The door to the room opened. Beth entered, holding a tray of food. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Jed accepted the food gratefully. He was starved and the combination of eggs and bacon was beyond appetizing.

“Obadiah is a little nervous. While he wants you to get better, he is worried how you’ll react when you do.”

Jed paused in chewing his food. “He did fine. I don’t know why you are still here. If Bjorn knows he might decide to try something. Does Douglas know you are here?”

“I can handle myself. You might be surprised to learn that Douglas and I are equals. I do what I please.” There was an awkward pause. Silence only broken by the sound of chewing. Earnestly, Beth asked, “Have you never spoken to a vampire before? Until you found out you seemed a little smitten with me.”

“No I haven’t. At least nothing that did not involve threats and curses. In fact you are first vampire I have seen that would bring a sick man dinner.” It was Jed’s turn to intently peer at Beth. “You are different and I still cannot wrap my head around it. Or why. Everything about you goes against the grain. You do not act like a vampire.”

Beth shrugged. “I am who I am.” Hardly an adequate answer. Maybe the question had no answer. In a world of gunslingers, monsters, and wizards, perhaps a compassionate vampire was just one more oddity. Jed did not know and doubted he ever would.

“I suppose it does not matter. I won’t be around for much longer.”

This time when Beth took his hand and squeezed, Jed squeezed back. “There might be a way,” Beth said deliberately. “The same way I can be cured of vampirism.”

Jed wondered at what that could be. Something able to cure consumption and vampirism, two completely unrelated diseases, was powerful. No time to respond. A sharp crack sounded from the outside. Jed knew it came from a Winchester. He rolled off the bed, slipping his boots on in quick movements. Several more shots were fired. Sliding the vest on and grabbing his gun belt, Jed flew down the stairs.

“What’s happening?” he demanded.

None of the others said a word. More shots were fired, not all from a rifle, and undiscerning shouting. Frowning, Jed stepped outside. He was not the only one outside, wondering what the blazes was going on. Then he saw Ross running down the street. The deputy was sprinting as fast as he could.

“Ross,” Jed shouted.

The deputy spotted him and ran towards him. Ross nearly barreled through him. “Close the door,” hissed Ross.

Gritting his teeth, Jed slammed it shot, locking the iron bars in place. “What was that firing?”

Breathing hard Ross replied. “What’s going on here?” He saw the iron bars on the windows and the upholstered guns of the men.

Jed seized ahold of his shirt. “What is going on?”

Ross pushed him aside. “I doing what you should have. Killing werewolves.”

“You killed that one werewolf?” Obadiah exclaimed.

Proudly, back tall and straight, Ross spat back, “Yes that was me. Seeing how you all were not handling it, I knew that I had to do it. Not even Sheriff Carter was willing to fight. You all went to bed with the devil.”

Jed hissed, “Did it ever occur to you dammed fool that maybe we weren’t ready?”

Ross closed his mouth.

“Jed,” Bjorn’s voice called.

Motioning everyone to move from the door, Jed walked outside. A gathering pack, including Hudson, was coming together in the street. Jed hawked and spat some mucus.

“Have you seen Deputy Ross?” Bjorn asked. One of the men by his side was rubbing his side. Doubtlessly, this was the man Ross had attacked.

Jed shrugged, “Can’t say I have. What was that shooting?”

Bjorn’s dropping mustache shook as he chuckled. “Jed don’t play ignorant. He is in the house. I can smell his trail. Let me have him”

A very tempting offer. A brief moment Jed contemplated handing the idiotic deputy to the dogs. “I won’t give him up to you. We will take him to the sheriff.”

Still gregarious, Bjorn insisted, “Come now, Jed. If you are not willing to hand him over, then I will come in and take him. He won’t be the only one I take.”

The men he had all looked eager to attack. Close to a dozen, they easily outnumbered Jed’s small band. The gunslinger leaned on the door, crossing his arms. “If you try, Bjorn I am going to kill you,” he expressed in a regretful tone.

Hudson stepped forward, “I will devour your flesh personally.”

“Quiet pup, let the big dogs talk.”

The soft features of Hudson transformed into a snarling hateful face. He rushed forward with a roar, traveling the distance to Jed in moments. The gunslinger slipped inside and closed the door as Hudson crashed into it. Iron supports in place, the door did not budge. There was a thud on the other side as Hudson hit the ground.

“Hudson don’t hurt yourself,” Jed taunted. “Try using the doggy door.”

Some of the other men moved forward, drawing forth their handguns. They spread out, striding fast to the house.

“Here they come,” Jed warned. “Obadiah bring the firebombs.”

Ben pulled down the heavy drapes. One of the attackers shot through the window. “Ross get the roof,” Jed instructed. The deputy had the Winchester and the vantage point the view gave him would be excellent.

Hudson rammed the door again, to no avail. Ben peaked out the glass and fired. A brief flash of teeth showed as he hit one of the men. More shots came in through the glass causing Nadi to find cover. Beth remained standing in the middle of the living room, unaffected by the pouring led.

Dan and Ben were firing from the two windows facing the front. One of the men reached a window. He stuck his gun hand through, ready to fire randomly. Dane grabbed the arm and snapped it against the iron bars. The man grunted in pain, his gun falling to the ground. Obadiah ran to the window, firing at point blank. The assailant retreated.

Ben was coolly popping out from his corner and firing. His aim was exceptional, and he was halting the advance of three men, none eager to get close.

“Henry!” Beth shrieked.

The old butler was against the back wall. He had fallen, his hands clutching a bloody wound in his chest. Beth had tears in her eyes. “You stubborn man,” she cried, “I told you to stay back.”

Jed only gave a passing glance to the dying man. He raised his gun and fired onto street. Surprisingly, Beth touched his shoulder. He turned to see her standing up. Before he could warn her, a bullet hit her. He almost shouted out. The wound healed immediately. No physical damage, she did decide to kneel down.

“Henry needs to talk to you,” Beth informed him.

“Now?” Jed hissed over the gunfire.

“He is dying,” she said.

Jed handed Beth his Colt so she could continue firing. “Fine.”

Careful to keep low, he crawled to Henry. The first thing he noticed was the wound was definitely fatal. Nothing could save the butler now. His face was pale and the eyes closed. Jed lightly slapped him, waking him.

Henry gasped, “I never trusted him.” The rest of his words were inaudible. The gunfight was too loud. Jed place his ear to Henry’s mouth. He felt the man’s last breath on his ear. Confused, Jed backed up, noticing Henry’s hand gripping a percussion pistol. He had drawn it from his pocket.

Jed stuffed it in his belt. He could ponder the cryptic last words later. Assuming he survived the night. He took the Colt from Beth. He told her Henry was dead. She bit her lip, silent.

Obadiah yelled suddenly as he reloaded, “They have a torch!”

A man was racing to the house, intent on burning them down. The flaming torch held high. From above, Ross fired the Winchester. His aim was deadly and the bullets blasted his chest, staggering him. He cocked the lever and sent another bullet flying. It blew the torch out of his hand.

Bjorn, who had been standing still in the street, yelled, “Jed your small army won’t save you. Brothers let us hunt together.” The attackers backed off from the house.

“They are changing,” Beth said coldly.

“I doubt we can last against a dozen werewolves,” Jed informed. The firebombs were ready to use and he placed a box of matches next to them. “If anyone wants to leave, I reckon you should do it before they change.”

No one moved for whatever their personal reason. Jed nodded, “Well then, stay here and fight. I will move outside and flank them.”

Grabbing a bottle he rushed out the back. Beth was following.

She said, “I am not as weak as you are.”

That was true. Taking a bite to the throat would stop him. However, she could shrug off a wound like that, just like the bullet. He did not argue the point. They took cover behind the neighboring house.

A chorus of howls rend the night. The pack was ready to hunt. Inside the house, Nadi had assumed control of the firebombs. Obadiah glanced outside, not noticing the sheen of sweat forming on his brow. The werewolves were bounding across the street. A dozen infernal dogs from hell. Sprinting like horses they attacked. Ross cranked out as many shots as possible. Several of the sprinting werewolves stumbled as the blows tripped them.

The fastest one was moving like the wind. It leaped through the air into a hail of gunfire. The bullets broke its momentum and it crashed against the wall.

Nadi lit the rag to the firebomb on fire. She slammed it on the porch past the window. There was a burst of flames, and the terrible keening of an animal ablaze. On two feet it flailed like a human. The other werewolves paused a moment, distracted by the fiery inferno. Then one howled, baying in the moonlight, and rushed the house. Nadi threw another firebomb. It saw the burning bottle coming and dodged to the side, letting it explode on the dirt.

The werewolf broke the window on the left side. Clawed hands seized the bars, trying to push them away. The bars held firm. Dane fired into its face as it tried to stick its snout through. The werewolf yelped as it turned away. Two more reached the window. Dane fell back avoiding the werewolves’ blade like talons as they reached inside.

Ben’s side was facing the same luck. Three werewolves were grabbing the bars and twisting them. The metal groaned as it bent out of shape. Nadi lit two firebombs. They crashed on the windows. Inside the house. Flames greedily ate the wood. Growling the werewolves stepped back. The house was on fire.

The front door flew off its handle. It crashed onto Dane, cracking his skull. In the doorway was the largest animal, Obadiah had never seen. It was hunched, struggling to simply enter. The dark fur created the image of some indescribable monster.

Obadiah yelled, “Out the back.”

Nadi threw a firebomb in the doorway. The flames and smoke obscured everything. The behemoth roared. Obadiah hoped it was burning to death. Rushing out the back they spotted another werewolf breaking in. Obadiah and Ben raised their revolvers and blasted it. It fell back from the weight of the receiving bullets.

Jed was waiting in the dark hearing the gunshots and howls. One of the werewolves raced to the side of the house. It began climbing. Sharp claws acted like grappling hooks. Drawing his guns, Jed cocked the hammer back. The ears of the werewolf twitched, hearing the noise. Pouring lead out Jed lambasted its backside. Mightily, it fell to the ground. Beth raced forward, finishing off the wounded beast.

She was intercepted by a charging werewolf. It barreled into her and they landed on the ground, wrestling. They rolled into the dark shadows behind the house. Jed could only make out the glowing eyes. The werewolf had yellow eyes shining despite the dark. Green eyes radiated from Beth, so bright and brilliant.

Jed moved to help her, when a sense of danger made him turn. Something leaped and Jed dropped his guns catching the grasping hands. The werewolf landed heavily on him. Jaws snapped forward, stopping short of his face. The gunslinger had his knees on its chest. The weight was pressing his legs against his own chest also in a most uncomfortable fashion. He groaned still holding the claws from rending his face.

Ross was having an easy time shooting any dirty mutt that came into sight. He poured every bit of anger and contempt he held for the beasts into each shot. Despite the lack of lighting, he could place a bullet in their skulls. Not enough to kill them, but it made distracting them easy. The werewolves were pooling under the porch out of sight. Ross could smell smoke and he believed the house was on fire. He ejected his last shell and hurriedly began reloading. He worked the lever when he finished, waiting for a shot.

Below him was a scratching sound. A werewolf was climbing up. One had was currently reaching for a higher hold. Sticking the barrel of his rifle past the bars, Ross fired into the sparsely hairy chest. The beast roared as its grip was lost. It snatched the rifle from Ross’ hands, as it fell.