Clown the Jester
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Chapter 4: The Dealer and The Hunter
Fifty cattle were grazing at Lion Ranch, under the watchful eyes of Drake Ness and Sylvester Tin. The humid unbearable heat burned mercilessly into the two Cowboys’ faces. Their throats sore and screaming for water, their skin itchy and irritable from their sweat. Their cowboy hats provided shade from the cruel sun, but no protection from the exhausting heat.
10 Liberty Bonds a week. Decent pay considering Drake had spent time in a prison. All he had to do was lead cattle to grazing areas and watch for bandits or coyotes. Rather easy job. He knew enough about Bandits that they would never strike at a Ranch during the day, and Coyotes rarely show themselves around these parts lately.
Drake Ness was mounted on a large black horse, his colt revolver in it’s holster, ready to be used at a moment’s notice. He left his hunting rifle back at his parents’ house because he would need to save the ammunition for hunting game. His companion, Sylvester Tin, sat on a gray stallion, the mare’s tail whipping at the pestering flies. The odd man was chewing at a blade of grass, the corner of his mouth curled into a friendly grin. He held in his hands an old guitar, strumming his hands over the strings to pass the time.
Sylvester was a thin fellow; his eyes were hidden under his long wild black hair. Never went anywhere without his trusty guitar in his arms. People claimed he could play his guitar nonstop for three days straight without food, drink, or rest. There was something unusual about Sylvester Tin. He had a good natured mischievous grin as if he knew something others didn’t. In fact his entire attitude was rather comical. Always bringing up the most random topics of discussion.
“So friend,” Sylvester called to Drake Ness, his fingers strumming a few impressive cords on his guitar. “How’d you get hired by The Lion Family? I always thought the Lady of the Ranch only hired the minimum hands required. Not that I don’t appreciate seeing a new face to talk to.”
“A friend recommended me,” Drake replied, pulling out a flask from his pocket and long drink from the refreshing water. “Simple as that.”
“Fair enough friends, fair enough. What do you think of Miss Lion’s children?” Sylvester asked with a mischievous laugh. “Young Ms. Isabel and Ms. Attie Lion. You must have seen them about the ranch.”
“What do you mean asking me something like that?” Drake asked, glancing away from the livestock to study Sylvester suspiciously. “Gossiping about our boss’s children does not seem like the brightest thing to do. We could lose our jobs.”
“A simple opinion of them won’t send us to the gallows friend,” Sylvester said with a laugh. “But you have to admit they are an interesting contrast for twins.”
“Contrast? They’re like day and night,” Drake Ness scoffed, taking another drink from his flask. “Ms. Isabel acts like a proper lady. Probably spoiled by those expensive dresses she wears all the time.”
“She’s got a real talent with the brush,” Sylvester added. “She’s always painting the land or the occasional people who come passing by. Did a portrait of me with my guitar without me even knowing. Heh. When she showed it to me I thought I was looking into a mirror. Ms. Isabel even let me keep it. She’s a sweet young lady.”
“I have no problem with her,” Drake said, his face darkening. “Her sister on the other hand…”
“Ah,” Sylvester exclaimed, obviously about to hear the news that he was looking for. “And what of dear Ms. Attie?”
“I’ve only been here two days,” Drake said, instinctively placing a hand on his gun holster. “And in those two days, she has tried to snatch my gun from me five times. The fifth time, when I told her to go pester someone else, she give me a sour look, and kicks me right in the shin and stomped off. Hurt like a horse kick.”
Sylvester threw back his head, letting out a wild laugh.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Sylvester replied with amused curiosity. “But you seem like a stranger in these parts. I don’t recall your face in Overlook. Do you make friends that quick to be able to make a week’s wages here?”
“I lived here growing up,” Drake replied, handing the flask of water over to Sylvester. “Even after so many years, some people remember my face.”
“A person willing to go through all that troubles to get you a job?” Sylvester asked taking a grateful drink from the flask.
“Rare nowadays,” Drake asked with a snort of contempt. “Nowadays, people would rather lock you away and try and keep you out of sight and out of mind.”
“Some people are like that friend,” Sylvester replied, handing the flask back to Drake. “City folk mostly. First time I went to Liberty, I tried to ask for directions and not a single person met my eye. There, everyone’s giving you suspicious looks and dirty eyes. Couldn’t stand all that anger and suspicion. So I came here and never felt like moving on. The people here are much different. They give kind words; forgive mistakes, always willing to lend a helping hand.”
“Maybe,” Drake answered. “Met someone here who really helped me. Set me straight and got me out of a mess of trouble.”
“Must be that nice Ms. Jae. She’s a saintly sort. Doing good deeds to whomever she meets. She gave me this guitar you know,” Sylvester replied, patting the side of the instrument with fondness. “Probably my most prized possession.”
“It’s an old guitar. Looks like junk,” Drake scoffed. “All dirty, and a few dents in it. It’s even missing a few strings.”
“Indeed it is, friend. This guitar is old, rather lost that gleaming shine…it uh…it could have a family of rabbits living inside it for all I know,” Sylvester said with a light laugh. “But those dirt stains, those dents, and those lost strings…they are memories. Memories that keep me on the straight path. Good and bad memories. Memories that help me laugh when I’m low. Memories that help me remember what could have been.”
“Memories huh?” Drake asked, adjusting his red bandana that covered his neck.
“Sure friend, See the dirt covering the sides?” Sylvester exclaimed, holding up the guitar for Drake to see clearly. “Came from The Skull Gulch Swamps. A few years back, I went up there, searching for a friend of mine who went missing. The kind of friend who thought he could get enough to get involved with the wrong crowd and not get a knife in his back. I dragged him out of the town, being chased by Colonel Charries’s Vermin Gang. The name fits the nasty bunch of ruffians might I add. We lost them in the swamps and were heading on back home when I was stupid enough to drop the dang guitar in a pile of quicksand.”
“How did you manage to get it back?” Drake asked, noticing one of the cows wandering away from the heard.
Sylvester quickly galloped over to the cow and led it back to the rest of the heard. His horse trotted back to Drake and his steed.
“Well, I did what any fool would do when their most prized possession was going under,” Sylvester continued. “I dove into the quicksand after it. Can’t truly say it was the smartest move I ever made. Course once I reclaimed my guitar I realized I was stuck and was going under quick. Luckily my friend had grabbed me by my collar and tugged me out. Heh heh. Guess we were both were fools that night.”
Drake smiled, shaking his head in amusement. “What of the dents?” he asked pointing a finger at the guitar. Far off the two cowboys could hear a gathering chorus of bird letting out loud caws.
“These dents? Well, I was watching these cattle one day on my horse. It was a dull day, and there was a light breeze to cool me down from the blazing sun. Soon I found myself struggling to stay away. My eyelids getting heavy and such. Next thing I know, I napping away,” Sylvester said, with a grin. The odd man began to strum his hand over the strings as if to set the dark mood. “That is, until I heard this wild roar from behind me. My eyelids open, and I turn…and behind me is a big old mountain lion, bending its knees, about to pounce. Well, as you can imagine, my legs were shaking, my teeth chattering, and for some odd reason, my brain wouldn’t tell my hand to drop my guitar and pull out my revolver and shoot the vicious cat. The Mountain lion pounced at me and my horse, claws raised, jaws open wide, letting out a wild cry. I panic and the next thing I know, I raise my guitar over my head and smash it down on the cat’s head. To my surprise, the lion dropped to the ground and scurried off like a rabbit, yelping in surprise. Heh. You should have seen the big lion run off, as if it sat on a big fire. Though the blow did wreck my guitar good. So, my good friend Mr. Thunder fixed it right up. Right as rain…well besides those dents. But I rather like them dents. Anyway since that day I never went anywhere without…”
“Hold on a second,” Drake interrupted, his head snapping up in attention to something behind Sylvester. “Where’s that smoke coming from?”
“Smoke? Where? What smoke?” Sylvester asked, turning his head around. His facing turning serious.
Drake pointed up at a small trail of gray smoke leaking up from behind a hill. Maybe twenty or thirty yards off.
“Could be a fire spreading, and the winds blowing this way! The fire could burn down Ms. Lion’s Ranch” Sylvester called out urgently. “Quick! Go down there and figure out what’s causing that smoke! We may be able to put it out before it’s raging out of control! I’ll get some shovels and buckets of water! We got to hurry! GO! GO GO!”
Drake’s horse sprung into action, galloping full speed towards the smoke. The smoke did not seem to be growing bigger. However…who knew if that could change? The horse began to gallop up the hill. Closer and closer.
Fire….fire. Drake’s mind went back to the night that fire broke out at his home so many years ago. Coughing from all the smoke filling his lungs, his family’s screams filling his ears. The intense heat at his skin. His eyes unable to penetrate the dark black smoke that filled the house. Red hot flames spreading across the roof…the creaks of wood failing under weight. Then…the loud crash of the roof collapsing. Followed by silence. No more crackling fire. No more creaking roof. No more screams. Drake Ness was alone.
As Drake’s horse galloped closer and closer to the source of the smoke, Drake could hear the constant caws of birds growing louder. As Drake’s horse reached the top of the hill, Drake found the source of the smoke.
A camp fire.
“Come on down Mr. Drake,” the man sitting in front of the campfire called out. “You hungry? I have plenty of food to share, and I could use a friend like you to talk to.”
Drake Ness recognized the man in black. It was the strange man that was arguing with Ms. Jae in the general store two days back. The man who gave Drake the card that read Dealer. The Strange man sat on a log, poking the fire with a long stick. Next to the man’s feet were a silver kettle, a bright shinny cup of fine china, and a bowl filled with soup.
Surrounding the strange man were a dozen black crows, letting out loud caws and pecking the ground with their dark beaks. Their screeching and chirps echoing in Drake Ness’s head. The Cowboy hesitated, staring at the bizarre murder of crows. Suddenly all the crows stopped their cries and all at once, turned their heads to stare at Drake. Their blood red eyes were all on cowboy. Drake stared down at the murder of crows, his gut telling him not to join the man. Telling him to turn his horse around and get as much distance as possible between the mysterious figure and him.
However, Drake obediently hopped off his horse and walked down the hill to the campfire. Drake sat down next to the strange man in black, his shoulders hunched, hands gripped tightly together. The two sat there in silence. The two stared into the fire. The flames flickering, the crackling of burning wood. In spite of the merciless sun, the humid air that was earlier baking his skin like a stove, even though he was sitting in front of a camp fire…Drake felt suddenly cold. Icy cold. He could feel his body begin to shiver.
“Thought you would be back in Skull Gulch by now,” The Strange man said, bending down to pick up the kettle and the cup. “Thought you came back here for your gun and to pick up some cash.”
“Plans changed,” Drake replied, his eyes locking on the fire.
“How odd,” The figure commented, holding up the kettle to Drake Ness. “Would you like some tea?”
Drake shook his head, not bothering to look up at the man in black.
“These changes of plans did not come from your little time with Ms. Jae?” The Strange man asked, pouring his cup with tea and taking a quick sip. “After all, what could that ignorant woman like that know about men such as you and me?”
“She knows more than you give her credit,” Drake replied, trying to will his body to stop trembling from the sudden coldness. One of the crows to Drake’s right let out a startling caw, silencing Drake’s defending.
“Does she now?” The Strange hissed coldly, his eyes narrowing into snake like slits. “If she knew anything she would not have turned my generous offer down back then, would she? The simple minded fool.”
Drake said nothing in reply, his eyes still starring into the fire. He tried to sit motionless, but the unexpected squawks of the loud birds surrounding him would cause him to wince.
“She gave you two hundred liberty bonds and turned you into a mindless cowboy? We both know you would go mad from boredom with that kind of life,” The Strange man said, taking another sip of tea. “Don’t you miss the good old days of your Apocalypse gang? The thrill of the pursuit. The prize? Your heart racing? Filling lawmen with led as you raced into the night? Remember those days? You miss them don’t you? I know you do Mr. Death. I know you do. Don’t you wish you could relive those glory days? The days where you were on top of the world?”
“Those days are long gone,” Drake Ness said bitterly. “My gang betrayed me. Took everything from me. Tried to kill me. I’d sooner rot than join up with those greedy lowlives. The Apocalypse Gang is no more.”
“Don’t be so sure friend,” The Strange man replied. “That life is still obtainable, Drakkonic Evil. I can make it happen.”
“No,” Drake answered. “I’m done with living outside the law. Drakkonic Evil is dead. Long dead.”
“If you say so friend,” The man in black said, shrugging his shoulders. “But how quickly will 200 liberty bonds can disappear? How soon will your funds be used up? And how soon could one with a criminal past lose an honest job as a cowboy? How long do you think it will take for your former cohorts find you and burn down what you have left? How honest and proper will your thoughts be when you are starving and freezing during the winters?”
“I’ll make it through,” Drake replied, starring into the fire. Images of his family and childhood flashed in the flames. Painful memories of his life. Nightmares.
“Maybe but I can’t help but wonder,” The Strange man ponder, scratching his chin. “How long till HE finds you? Do you think you can evade HIM forever. Why…he could be watching you…right…now.”
Drake Ness’s body tensed.
“Who do you mean?” Drake asked, as if he didn’t know.
“You know who,” The Strange man smirked. “The Silhouette. He’s back in town. The missing sheriff has brought The Silhouette back to Overlook, Ness. And with your return at the same time as Sheriff Velmur’s disappearance, well…The Silhouette could get suspicious. He will track you down, and if you thought he was terrible back when he took you down all those years ago, you have no idea just how dark he is now. It’s been a long time since The Silhouette brought a criminal to a jail. He doesn’t give chances. He doesn’t show mercy. The Silhouette exercises his own form of brutal justice. I can well imagine what will happen if he runs into a repeat offender such as you.”
Drake knew the stranger was right. The Silhouette would hunt Drake Ness to the ends of the Earth. There was no escaping his past. There was no forgiveness. He would always be hunted like an animal.
“I can protect you from him, Death,” The Dealer hissed, picking up his stick and jabbed at the burning logs within the dying fire. “I can offer you asylum from The Silhouette.”
“How? How can you protect me from him?” Drake demanded, his teeth chattering from the cold and rage. “WHO ARE YOU? HOW DO YOU KNOW SO MUCH ABOUT ME?!”
“The Dealer will suffice as a title for now,” The Strange man answered shaking Drake’s hand. “I am a man who has seen the other spectrum of the world. I’ve seen into your very heart and soul. I am a man who can provide a world of services to the customer for the right price. And I’ve known you for such a long time, Mr. Ness. Every time you mounted your horse at night...your gang and your gun at your side…I was there…riding behind you. And now…in your time of need, I have come to lend you my much required services.”
“What services?” Drake asked, standing up and backing away from the man and the campfire. The crows surrounding them began to caw wildly, spreading their black wings and began to fly around the two. Flying overhead in a circle. Drake stopped in his tracks startled by the bizarre flight patterns of the crows overhead. The birds suddenly divebombed back to the ground, forming a ring around the two figures. All but one crow…one that landed on The Dealer’s shoulder, it’s glowing red eyes fixed on Drake Ness.
“Hmm…my pets don’t seem to want you to leave. They must still wish for us to do some dealing,” The Dealer commented, throwing his hand in the air as if to dismiss their sudden flight. “It would be rude to ignore their curtsy. How about you just sit back down and we continue this friendly conversation. You should relax, friend. We’re just men of business here, no need to get nervous.”
Drake sat back down, his eyes darting back and forth from the tradesman and the birds surrounding him.
“As to my services sir, well….All kinds my good friend, all kinds. I am a man that can make a nothing an everything. Turn a beggar into a wealthy lazy aristocrat. I provide information, secrets, advice, reliable predictions on the weather, tips on the harvest, the latest gossip, knowledge on medicines and herbs, and some amateur dabbling in the a cult. I am a man that can make your wildest dreams come true,” The Dealer rasped, turning his head to face Drake Ness. “However my main trade is providing whatever a man needs to be happy. I’m a traveling salesman of sorts, offering an infinite variety of necessities to the right customer. Yes sir! You name it, I got it! I sell furniture, herbs, tools, rare foods, fine drinks, new breakthroughs in technology, seeds for crops, miracle elixirs, good luck trinkets, knick knacks, old books, precious metals, voodoo, magic potions, ingredients, items from the ancient past and soon to be future, and so much more. I provide what no others can produce. I sell items that one can only find…on the other side. Now…for a man with your needs. A man on the run from a vengeful shadow, you may require something of my more interesting realm of expertise. Take this little number…”
The Dealer reached down for his black medicine bag, shifting through the contents. The crow on his shoulder sat motionless like a stuffed trophy on his shoulder, still staring at Drake Ness. After a moment of searching, the salesman produced a simple colt revolver. Drake let out a snort of disappointment, expecting somewhat more fantastic than a common revolver.
“This is a rather special gun, my friend. Capable of shooting repeatedly without reloading, easy to conceal, light weight, simple point and fire action. Easy to clean, disassemble and reassemble. Most of the parts could easily be replaced. However these aren’t the qualities that make this particular weapon so special,” The Dealer hissed, motioning to the many parts of the gun. “I made my own special improvements on it. Well…not exactly the gun itself…more the bullets the gun uses.”
The Dealer held the gun up to Drake Ness, motioning him to take the weapon and examine it. As Drake reached for the gun, the crow perched on the trader’s shoulder suddenly lurched it’s beak violently at Cowboy’s hand. Drake shot his hand back, backing away from the bird and the man it rested on.
“Oh, forgive my friend,” The Dealer chuckled, tossing the gun carefully into Drake Ness’s hands. “He gets rather tense around others. I hope he did not hurt you…”
“I already have a gun like this,” Drake replied, eager to change the subject. He quickly glanced over the weapon in his hand over. Clearly not impressed. “Guns are nothing new to me or the shadow. While I was in jail, I heard from the cell next to mine that a bullet cannot stop the Silhouette.”
“My good sir, I do not doubt your knowledge of the gun’s functions,” The Dealer assured, taking the weapon back from Drake Ness and reaching back into his bag, pulling out a single silver bullet. The Salesman smiled, holding the bullet up for Drake to see. “However, your knowledge of the Silhouette is rather unreliable. You do not know the shadow as I do…and I can assure you that these special bullets are more than a match for the Silhouette. Perhaps a demonstration will satisfy your unsure mind.”
The crow on The Dealer’s shoulder suddenly bolted into the air, beating it’s wings rapidly. The tradesman loaded the bullet into the revolver, he watched the bird fly further and further away. Flying higher and higher. Further and further. The Dealer examined the gun for a moment and turned to Drake Ness, dropping the revolver in his hands.
“Shoot it,” The Dealer hissed, brushing his black gloved hand over at his shoulder where the bird had rested.
Drake Ness stared at the strange man his eyebrows narrowing in puzzlement. “Shoot what? The bird?”
“Of course the bird,” The Dealer replied with nonchalance, turning to face the distant crow. “Unless you wish for me to let you take aim at an apple on your son.”
Drake turned his head to study the small black dot that was the crow. It had to be a hundred yards away, more than two hundred feet in the air. Drake glanced down at the gun in his hands. He might as well try and shoot the sun down.
“Quickly now,” The Dealer insisted, his finger following the path of the crow. “Shoot it before it gets out of sight.”
“I can’t make that shot,” Drake said, already holding the gun up trying to aim at the disapeering target. “Maybe if I had my rifle and if I was much closer…but at this distance, this gun, and the wind…there’s no way I could…”
“Have faith in me, friend,” The Dealer said, patting Drake’s shoulder assuringly. “Now shoot.”
The next thing Drake knew, his finger squeezed on the trigger.
BANG!
He heard a loud crack as the bullet exited the revolver. Drake stared up at the black dot that was the crow. At this distance, it was the size of a freckle. Drake waited, and waited. The Dealer and the cowboy stood in motionless silence.
Suddenly, the crow began to descend…no…it wasn’t descending…it was plummeting. The bird…more than 400 hundred feet away was dropping like a stone. Could it be? Was there any way that he could possibly hit such an impossible mark?
No it couldn’t be. It must have been a trick…maybe The Dealer had another gunman hiding in the grass…no if there was another shooter, Drake would have heard a second shot. Maybe the crow was trained to fake it’s death when it heard the gun shot. But it fell so quickly. If the bird was playing dead, it would have broken it’s neck from the fall.
As the small bird hit the ground, the many crows surrounding the Dealer and Drake Ness began to let out loud caws and shrieks as if they realized their brethren’s fate.
“Excellent shot,” The Dealer commented gathering his tea kettle and cup and placing them into his doctor’s bag.
“Thanks,” Drake said, his voice choking up, his jaw dropped in disbelief.
“Oh, that wasn’t a complement to you sir,” The Dealer replied, turning around to face Drake Ness. A smile stretching across his face. “You had little to do with the Bullzeye. All you did was pull the trigger and the bullet took over. You have just hit a crow that was 415 away, and I assure you with the weapon you hold you could hit a target twice the distance away. Now you understand the protection I can offer you.”
“How….how did I?” Drake stammered, unable to believe his eyes. “It couldn’t be…no there’s no way…it must have been luck...there’s no possible way I could hit that bird from such an incredible distance.”
“Are you a gambling man Mr. Ness? Because I think you’d appreciate your odds against the Silhouette with this gun in your hands. Why you could shoot him a mile away. He’d be dead before he could even see you,” The Dealer exclaimed, his every word emphasized by his traveling salesmen occupational nature. “In fact…why hide from the shadow? Why must you remain the hunted? You could hunt down The Silhouette. With such a weapon on your side, the Silhouette would be running away at the very sight of you. Wouldn’t it feel good Mr. Ness? Wouldn’t it feel good to make the hunter the hunted? To feed on the Silhouette’s fear as you corner him? Doesn’t that ruffian deserve a little payback for the years you wasted away in that prison because of him? Why stop with the Silhouette? You could ensure that War and your former comrades pay for stealing everything you earned. You could eliminate every last one of your enemies, Drakkonic Evil. Your legend would live once again! The Entire Prairie Lands would grow to fear you! Why, you’d be running Skull Gulch in no time. Imagine, ruling over Roquer’s and Colonel Charries’s gangs.”
“How much for the gun and bullets?” Drake asked, searching his pockets urgently for the Liberty Bills on him. “I can give you 240 liberty bonds, if you wait till the end of this week I can offer you 250.”
The Dealer let out a horse laugh, clapping his hands together and shaking his head in amusement.
“My good friend,” The salesmen mused, taking the gun from Drake’s hands. “The value of these bullets are far beyond any price you could ever hope to offer me. Imagine what the boys at Fort Spire could do with these bullets? Why the Ancient Tribes over at the canyons would be extinct in mere minutes. How long would it take for a Skull Gulch gang to take over the entire union state with just one of these guns? No sir, this gun cannot be bought with mere paper.”
“Then what do you want for the gun?” Drake asked urgently, wishing to have the gun back in his hand. With that gun…he would never have to fear the Silhouette. He still couldn’t believe the range that weapon could reach. It was impossible…but his eyes did not deceive him.
“How about I give you this gun as a present,” The Dealer hissed holding the gun up to Drake Ness. “Free of charge. I guarantee it will serve you far more than a couple of handfuls of liberty bonds.”
Drake’s hands instinctively snatched the gun.
“You mean I can keep it?” Drake asked, examining the designs of the weapon carefully. It seemed a normal enough colt revolver. Nothing special that Drake could find. “Just like that?”
“Well…no you can’t just keep it,” The Dealer admitted, straitening his shirt collar and tie. “In order for you to earn such a special gun…you will have to do me a small favor.”
“What kind of favor?” Drake Ness asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“A small errand that I may require,” The Dealer replied shrugging his shoulders innocently. “In order for you to keep the gun, you must be willing to do a task that I can demand of you at any hour of any day of any year regardless whatever inconvenience or nature it may present.”
“What would that task be?” Drake demanded, already feeling the dark nature the assignment would be.
“I don’t think I will be telling you until you agree to my generous offer,” The Dealer snapped, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. “However it hardly matters now. Either agree to my terms now or lose your precious gun and take your chances with the Silhouette. This is my one and only offer. Take it…or leave it.”
“I don’t get into deals unless I know exactly where they’re going,” Drake replied, tossing or perhaps even violently throwing the revolver at it’s vendor. He now realized what his senses seemed to nullify. Something had blinded his mind. Perhaps some unknown drug, perhaps his inner torments, perhaps his own desire to rejoin the dark past he resolved to never follow.
This creature before Drake Ness was a tempter. A fiend trying to gain control of Drake’s soul with fear and tricks. Such obvious signs…such obvious betrayal and vile intent. This was wrong. Everything about this Dealer was wrong. Had Drake Ness become so accustomed to villains that he could no longer detect their dark natures?
“Hmm…is that so Drake Ness? Tell me then,” The Dealer hissed, pulling out another silver bullet and loading it into the gun. “Are you willing to die for your moral codes?”
“Are you threatening me stranger?” Drake Ness asked, his voice rising to anger. Drake’s hand went to his hoster, resting on his own revolver.
“Course not friend,” The Dealer replied in an icy snarl, his eyes darting from Drake’s unwavering eyes and the cowboy’s weapon. “Simply inquiring if a man who is given the key to survival will refuse it for misplaced beliefs. Do you hold fast against my offer?”
“I’d rather be killed by a vengefully angel than sell my soul to the devil,” Drake growled, watching the dangerous weapon in the Dealer’s hands.
As The Dealer began to raise the unnatural fire arm, Drake immediately pulled out his revolver, aiming at the vendor’s head. The Dealer’s weapon was aimed at Drake’s heart. The Dealer’s soulless face was twisted into a face of pure rage. The face that could steal the strength out of a man. However, Drake Ness held strong, not backing down from the creature before him. He stood, unafraid, almost a knight facing a dragon.
Whether he be man or demon, The Dealer would not break Drake Ness.
The two locked eyes, waiting for the other to make a move. It seemed neither would raise their weapons unless provoked to do so; as if both knew that to duel would be fatal for both parties. Drake Ness was both skilled and quick with his gun however the mysterious nature of the revolver in The Dealer’s hand caused the former outlaw to hesitate.
“If you were to harm me. You will bring about yourself inevitable destruction,” The Dealer warned, obviously aware of Drake’s skill with a gun and aim. “Let us both remove our hands from our weapons before our nerves bring about a foolish and pointless end. I have no intention of dying over a mere business deal, neither do I wish you dead. This is simply a misunderstanding. Nothing more.”
The two stared at one another for a moment longer, and simultaneously pocketed their revolvers.
The Dealer opened his mouth to speak when the sound of another horse approaching cause him to remain silent.
Sylvester Tin rode up on his stead surveying Drake Ness and The Dealer. In his free hand, he had his arm wrapped around two large shovels and a bucket of water that was nearly emptied by the rugged ride up the hill.
“Just a campfire huh?” Sylvester exclaimed, chucking the bucket behind him with annoyance. “Don’t mind telling me. After all, I only thought that the entire claim of land was about to be swallowed up by a fire.”
“A fire Mr. Tin?” The Dealer asked, turning to face Drake’s associate and tipping his hat in greeting. “Oh my good sir, it won’t be just flames that purges these lands. However, I must apologize for concerning you prematurely. I was merely cooking some tea and soup. I would offer you some but I seemed to have run out.”
“This is private property sir,” Sylvester called down to the strange salesman, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You’ll have to leave, friend.”
“Do not jest, Mr. Tin,” The Dealer replied turning his back to the two cowboys and taking up his black medicine bag. “You are no friend of mine.”
“I’ll ask you once more,” Sylvester called again, pulling out his rifle and aiming at the Dealer’s back. “Get of this property, and never come back.”
The Dealer took no notice of Sylvester; instead, turning his head to face Drake once more. “See you around, Mr. Ness.”
With that, the salesman walked off, humming the tune of beating drums that the Ancient Tribes at Dead Canyon would create in their times of war. As the Dealer walked out of earshot, Sylvester hopped off his horse and approached Drake Ness, his eyes still on the strange salesman.
“Who was that man Drake?” Sylvester asked, his rifle still aimed at the Dealer.
Drake shrugged his head, his body growing suddenly weak from the encounter with the strange man. His legs trembled; his heart quaked in a sudden weakness.
“Just…” Drake struggled for the words to characterize the man. “A stranger, passing by.”
“Funny folks appearing in these parts,” Sylvester mused, not realizing his companion’s weariness. “First that fella Ms. Isabel spot, stalking the fields like a coyote in the shadows last night, then this funny card cooking dinner on someone else’s land.”
Drake’s eyes snapped open, his head turning to Sylvester.
“What man in shadows?” He demanded, gripping Sylvester’s shirt feverously. “Tell me!”
“Drake, are you alright?” Sylvester inquired, staring into Drake’s terrified eyes.
“WHAT MAN?” Drake cried out, shaking Sylvester with unintentional violence.
“Ms. Isabel made a painting of the figure,” Sylvester stammered, his eyes squinting in confusion. “Thought it just looks like a giant black blot…”
Drake broke away from his companion sprinting towards his awaiting horse, hopping on and riding furiously back towards Lion Ranch. He could feel his new life falling apart. God have mercy on his soul.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Isabel Lion sat on a tree stump just outside of the Lion’s house. Before her was a new painting that she was putting the finishing touches on. She had long brown curls covered by a bright yellow sun hat that matched the proper lady-like dress that she wore. She had a cheerful pure face. The face of youthful innocence. She was fourteen years old and already a beautiful proper lady.
Isabel enjoyed painting. It was one of the few expressions of her creativity and feeling she could express. She was at it every moment she could find when she was not riding, or learning her lessons with her uncooperative sister and their teacher. Isabel dabbed her brush in a dark blue, followed by spreading it over the canvas. Most of her paintings usually were bright beautiful colors that brought cheer to the artist…however this particular portrait only made her feel cold inside.
Leaning against the stump with Isabel, her twin sister Attie who occupied her time whittling a piece of bark with her knife. Attie’s hair was cut short, nearly as short of that which could be found on a boyish youth. She wore dark black overalls and white farm worker shirt. Her face was smudged from her volunteering hand on the many chores that one usually assign to workers. She was a tomboy. Always asking the helping hands how to use their guns and work as they did. Attie was always the difficult child. Disobeying orders, always getting into trouble, getting into fights with other children. She had a wild fiery tempered youth that completely contrasted the pleasant Isabel.
“WHO DID YOU SEE LAST NIGHT?” A voice behind the two roared. The twins turned their heads to find Drake Ness, the new hired help that their mother employed leaping off his horse and rushing towards them. His eyes were wild like a madman. Isabel stared at the man, unsure of what to say.
“You’re being paid to watch cattle,” Attie called out, quickly pulling herself to her feet and glaring at Ness. Her hands at her hips. “You’re not done for another two hours. So get back on your horse and get moving!”
“Quite,” Drake snapped at the tomboy, shoving her out of his way and stood before Isabel Lion. The young girl stood up, backing away from the man. Her eyes a mix of confusion and fear.
“Nobody touches me like that!” Attie warned, raising her knife up to Ness in a threat. “I should cut off your…”
Drake Ness snatched the knife out of Attie’s hands and plunged the blade into the tree stump.
“Tell me who you saw last night in the fields last night,” Drake demanded, pointing a finger at the concerned Isabel. “NOW!”
Instead of speaking, Isabel simply pointed at her painting that she had been working on. Drake slowly approached the portrait, pulling it off it’s easel and held it up to his face.
At first the painting seemed to be an entire slate painted dark blue. As if was the bottom of a dark river or the night sky. Swirls and splashes circling over the entire frame as if to illustrate mist and omens. To the viewer who was not looking for it’s hidden content, the painting was nothing more than perhaps a night sky. No moon or stars. However there was something more to it. It was as if the subject was hiding within the painting, hoping to not be discovered.
As Drake studied the portrait, he realized there was a small darker shape hidden in the middle of the painting. It was a man, his entire body as black as the night. The image was not so much a realistic portrait but an outline of the subject. The man had a large intimidating build, his head bent as if he was a mountain lion or a predator in the middle of the hunt. He held in both hands two revolvers, raised to shoot anything that dared to get in the way of the hunter that wielded them. He wore a large black hat, the hat a preacher would wear. The only facial feature the painting could reveal was the man’s eyes. Fiery hot, determined, vengeful, merciless eyes. The eyes that Drake Ness recognized instantly. Judging him, even now.
“No,” He hissed, still staring into the portrait, his eyes wide with fear. “No…no.”
Suddenly Drake let out an angry cry, slamming the painting down on his knee breaking the portrait in half. Isabel let out a cry of surprise and defeat as she watched Drake destroy her work.
“THAT SNAKE EYED, SLIPPERY DEVIL!” Drake roared, throwing the pieces to the ground and stomping down on the portrait’s face with his boot. “MAY YOU ROT IN HELL, YOU TOUNGLESS DEMON!”
“He’s a nutcase,” Attie hissed to her sister.
“Get Mr. Tin,” Isabel ordered, shoving Attie forward. “Hurry before he causes real trouble.”
Attie began to move towards her knife, her eyes watching the raving Drake Ness.
“He thinks he can catch me off guard like the last time. This time…I’ll be ready for him. He won’t get me…he won’t. I’LL KILL HIM FIRST!” Drake declared snatching up Attie’s knife from the tree stump before the tomboy could reach it. “MARK MY WORDS, I’LL KILL HIM!”
“Who will you kill?” Isabel asked, backing away from the cowboy. “Who is he? What has he done?”
“He’s the Silhouette,” Drake answered in a hoarse whisper, pointing the knife at the twins. “And he’s return to Overlook to hunt me down and kill me like an animal.”
With that, Drake threw Attie’s knife down at the torn painting, the blade piercing through the subject’s forehead. Attie and Isabel stared at Drake Ness in silence, unsure of what to do or say. Drake turned away from the discarded painting and began to walk towards his horse. His legs trembling, his breathing deep and slow. Drake mounted his horse without another word, and rode off leaving Attie and Isabel Lion without explanation.
…………………………………………………………………………………………….
The sun had already set as Drake Ness’s horse galloped furiously back to home. Drake had to get home as soon as possible. He had to make it before dark. Had to make it before The Silhouette began his nightly roaming.
Dear God, he found me! Drake’s mind screamed as his stead leapt over the fence surrounding the Lion’s property. His eyes darting back and forth searching every shadow, expecting his long time enemy to leap out and kill him.
“HEE-YAH! HEE-YAH!” Drake cried out, snapping the rope against his horses neck. The stead obediently began to run faster and faster.
The horse was traveling at it’s maximum speed, jumping over ditches, fences, and other obstacles. The beast’s breathing and grunts became more and more frequent. It was pushing itself to it’s limit. Exhustion and dehydration. The horse wanted to slow down to a trot but it’s master would not let it. Every second counted.
“HEE-YAH!” Drake cried out, snapping the strap again.
Drake couldn’t stay in Overlook. It wasn’t safe for him. Not with the Silhouette hunting him. He had to leave tonight. He’d get his money, his rifle, what food and water he could manage and abandon Overlook. He could try and escape to…to...where could he go?
If he showed his face back in Liberty Square, the citizens would hang him. He may have paid his time…but an angry mob would never forget. Besides, the Silhouette would simply follow him to the city and murder him there.
He swore he would never return to Skull Gulch to live a life of gang violence. Besides, with War and the Apocalypse gang after him and Roquor’s gang putting a price for Drake’s head, returning to Skull Deep would be as suicidal as going to Dead Canyon.
Perhaps he could join the Fort Spire Troops. He would be paid to join a regiment and fight off Skull Gulch bandits and the occasional Ancient raiding parties. Maybe the Fort Spire army could protect him from the Silhouette. Yes…maybe. The Silhouette may have been a bounty hunter, but his methods were far to brutal for the law to turn a blind eye. If the Silhouette stepped foot on Fort Spire, he would be shot on sight.
Merciful Jesus, how did the Silhouette track him down? He had barely been back in town for two days. And yet the Silhouette was spotted at Lion Ranch. The place where Drake just started working. This could not be a coincidence. The Dealer was right. The Silhouette would hunt Drake down till one of them was dead.
Drake glanced up at the sky. Night. The sun had completely disappeared. He was running out of time. Night time. The Silhouette would be roaming the Prairie Lands now. He had come out of his daily hiding to hunt scoundrels.
Drake could see his parent’s house off in the distant. He could make it. Run in, grab what was necessary, and leave everything else. Then ride. The Silhouette rarely travels by horse, if Drake could get a head start, he could make it to Fort Spire in eight hours by horseback. Four if he made it to the train station.
Drake’s horse slowed outside of the cowboy’s soon to be forgotten home. Drake climbed off his stead and approached the front entrance, reaching out a hand to unlock the bolted door. His hand stopped inches from the wood frame.
The door had been kicked open. Drake gently pushed the assaulted entrance open with a finger, his heart beating like a drum.
Dear God, Drake thought backing silently away from the door. He’s already here!
Drake debated abandoning his house, jumping back on his horse and riding off, leaving Overlook and the Silhouette behind. But Drake needed the provisions and liberty bonds stored in the house to make it to Fort Spire. Drake would also need his hunting rifle and extra revolver for the dangers of traveling across the Prairie Lands at night.
Drake Ness pulled his colt revolver out of his holster, took a deep breath and gently slid the front door open. As soon as he entered, Drake shot out his gun, sweeping his aim across the room, searching for any sign of his pursuer. His expert hunting eyes scanning the single room cabin for even the slightest trace.
Nothing.
Whether the Silhouette had searched the house and left earlier or if he was waiting outside, Drake couldn’t wait in the open to find out. He needed to leave as soon as possible. Drake Ness wasted no time, approaching the loose floor board that he hid his rifle, money, and any supplies he would need in case of an emergency such as this.
He carefully pulled the board out and reached into the compartment, careful to still have his revolver covering the door just in case. First, the rifle. Drake slid the large hunting rifle over his back. He placed his second revolver in it’s holster. Next, Drake gathered all 240 Liberty bonds he possessed and wrapped the money together with a piece of leather string, from there, he shoved the wade of paper into his hat, placing it back on his head. Drake pulled out his hunting knife, placing the fine blade in it’s sheath holster at Drake’s thigh. Caring two bags of dried food cans and bread in one arm, gun still raised in the other, Drake made his way back to his horse, securing the supplies to the horse’s saddle.
Drake paused, his mind racing, going over everything he had on him. Making sure he did not forget anything vital.
The hunting rifle’s ammunition.
He left the ammunition in the trunk back in the well. Drake was very much tempted to leave the ammunition behind, but he would need the extra rounds for traveling through the prairie at night. His two revolvers were well enough for a bandit or any roaming Ancient Tribe savages, but if he was to encounter a mountain lion or a grizzly…he’d be yanked off his horse and mauled to bits before he had a chance to fire a second shot. And with the stories of a giant hulking beast roaming about slaughtering other large predators like sheep…Drake needed to be well armed for any hellish creature.
Drake hurriedly marched to the old well, placing one of his guns in his holster in order to grab the well crank. As he wheeled up the bucket that supported the old trunk, Drake Ness was careful to still have his other revolver raised, his eyes searching through the darkness. Listening for any foreign noise amongst the cricket chirps and the low whistling of a breeze.
It didn’t matter whether or not Drake’s senses detected The Silhouette. Didn’t matter if he couldn’t hear or see the vengeful bounty hunter. Drake knew the Silhouette was out there. Watching Drake. Waiting for Drake to let his guard down and attack. But Drake would not give the Silhouette the chance. This time he knew what he was against.
Drake watched the old chest rise up from within the well. So close…all he needed to do…Drake threw open the trunk lid, unable to see it’s contents through the darkness. He hurriedly ran his hand through the trunk, feeling the sides and searching the bottom.
Where was it?
Drake couldn’t believe it. The rifle was missing. NO! Where was it?! In a fit of anger, Drake slammed the trunk down on the ground, cursing under his breath.
Could it have fallen out of the trunk and be at the bottom of the well? There could have been a hole in the chest and the ammunition could had fallen out. Were the bullets really worth wasting so much time?
Drake Ness let out a soft hiss of frustration. The well was only eight feet deep, and it had dried out. He could easily slide down the well, gather the fallen bullets and climb back out. Drake reached into his pocket, drawing out a small match.
He struck it against the old worn out trunk. The match burst into a bright flame, illuminating the Drake’s body with an orange glow.
Drake peered into the well, holding up his match, hoping to spot the ammunition packs. Only find staring into the eyes of the very man he was attempting to escape. Hidding in the well...waiting for Drake to fall into his trap. Drake opened his mouth to let out a cry only to emit a low gargling sound. The match went out as if extinguished by a ghost, plunging the two men into darkness.
No time to use his gun. No time to shout. No time to think. It was too late to react. The figure within the well shot up at Drake Ness as if fired out from a canon. The bounty hunter slammed into Drake with the strength of a bull, knocking the cowboy off his feet and into the air. As Drake was thrown back, his revolver slipped from his grip and out of sight. Drake slammed into the Earth, the breath knocked out of his bruised chest.
The figure pulled his feet out from his hiding spot. Silent as a panther. The figure slowly began to advance on Drake. Like a predator about to come in for the kill.
Drake’s hand instinctively reached down for his second revolver, drawing it and aiming at the shadow of a man. As Drake’s finger began to squeeze the trigger, the bounty hunter’s body tensed, his right hand reaching for something within his coat.
CRACK!
Drake let out a cry of pain as his gun was knocked out of his hands as if by an invisible force. Something hidden within the darkness. Something had struck his hand. For a moment, Drake thought he had shot in the hand…but it wasn’t a bullet wound.
Drake’s hand grasped around the bleeding knuckles of his other hand. He glanced up at the bounty hunter watching him deposit whatever weapon he used back into his coat as quickly as it appeared.
“You didn’t think you could escape Overlook without my notice,” The bounty hunter snarled, looming over Drake like a mountain. “Did you, filth?”
The figure was tall, solid build. Strong enough to break a man’s arm with one hand. He was dressed all in black, making it next to impossible to distinguish from the darkness that surrounded Drake and him.
The dark figure wore a black preacher’s coat and large preacher hat that covered his forehead and hair. The other half was hidden under a black bandana mask covering his jaw and nose. The only physical feature of the figure’s face visible from within the blazing eyes. Cold, terrible, furious eyes, blazing like fire. His presence filled any sane man with fear, and guilt.
The sacred judging preacher’s hat and coat combined with the black bandana and two revolvers of a bounty hunter or nameless lawman were an awe-inspiring. It had a paralyzing effect on the man cowering before him. Religious terror and the weighted presence of law and order.
"Drake Ness," The bounty hunter hissed, grasping Drake by the throat with one hand and lifted the man into the air. "Your judgment has come."
Drake grasped the figure's hand with both arms trying in vain to break free. The masked lawman drew a revolver from within his black coat and pressed the barrel of the weapon against Drake's forehead. Drake's eyes widened with fear. Death was at his door. God have mercy on his soul, for the Silhouette would not.
He was hunter of filth.
He was the bane of all outlaws.
He was the death of scoundrels.
He was the dark angel that stalked the night.
He was the one who struck fear in the hearts of the untouchables.
He was the shadow that no man could not escape.
He was The Silhouette, and he found Drake Ness.
< Message edited by Clown the Jester -- 1/15/2012 21:04:23 >
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