Fire Wind

by Guy S. Stanton III

  The first one had dispersed the attack on me, while the second had seemed interested with only the elimination of life.

  I pulled my second shirt on and sat staring into the flames in a debate over what to do. I thought about it and it came to mind that I should ride west. Previously though I’d planned on heading south.

  I didn’t want any part of what was going on. Tomorrow I’d head south and do my best to forget that this night had ever happened.

  Chapter Two

  Southbound

  The storm was gone in the morning and saddling up I headed Ted towards the south. I was about an hour into the ride when I felt the wind pick up dramatically.

  To my astonishment dust began to blow. Inches of rain had fallen overnight and yet I was riding into a turbulent storm of dust and flying debris!

  Tumbleweeds came flying through the gale with enough force to startle Ted into almost bucking me off. Regaining control I headed for the sheltering rise of some hills that were off to the west and immediately the storm winds abated.

  I looked about in consternation. It felt as if I was being played with!

  Anger began to mount and I turned Ted and spurred him on towards the south. The wind was back and with it the tumbleweeds. Ted spooked as one skipped up and hit him in the face and he spun too sharp for me to hold on and I fell from the saddle to land hard on the ground.

  The fall had hurt, but the burning in my arm was the worst. It was almost as if I’d been bitten by something.

  Scrambling backward from the coiled snake I drew my pistol and shot its head off. The brightly banded snake flopped about on the ground without its head and breathing hard I tore at my shirt sleeve.

  Pulling my shirt sleeve up revealed two fang pinprick impressions in my forearm that gave proof to the changes I felt even now taking place within my body. Oh God I was going to die!

  *****

  My eyes were going in and out of focus and my heart felt like it was coming out of my chest. I lay back on the sand as all the wind left and the day became hot and still.

  I could barely breathe. Of all the ways to go out this was the least of the ways I’d thought most likely. I think I would’ve preferred a bullet.

  Oddly my soon approaching mortality did not feel peaceful. I came very much to the conclusion that I’d rather go on living then to die right now.

  I should have gone west like the old man had indicated to do. Strangest of all then, as I faded from consciousness, was the image of the old man staring down at me on the ground.

  “Remember what I said about choices?” He asked.

  I nodded or at least I would have if I was still in control of my body.

  “You haven’t made very many good ones.”

  Hysterically I felt on the verge of laughter, but even that was too much for me right now. Good choices in comparison to my actions were complete opposites.

  “You can change.”

  “I’m going to hell and I know it.” I mumbled out and it was the last thing I was aware of other than the old man’s disapproving shake of his head at my words.

  Chapter Three

  Needed the Money

  Sand…………….

  Wind……………

  Heat……………

  Cold………………

  It was the cold I came aware of first. Feeling as stiff as a board I tried to move and managed to make it to my knees.

  I was as parched as a dry river creek bed, but glancing around I saw no sign of Ted. I looked about the moonlit landscape, but saw nothing that moved.

  I felt at my arm only to feel that it was swollen to almost twice its normal size. I shouldn’t be alive and yet I was.

  Gaining my feet under me I tottered uncertainly for a moment as I waited for the world to stop moving. Everything finally stopped moving and looking up I saw from the position of the moon where west should be. Locating a rocky spire in the distance I headed for it as a guide stone.

  I didn’t know what the big deal about heading west was, but I’d learned my lesson.

  I walked all night and as the next day’s dawn opened up behind me I topped out on a rise and saw a town situated in a valley below me. A town meant water and I headed for it with as much eagerness as my legs could manage, which wasn’t much.

  Heading for the buildings of the town all the colors of the world seemed to mix and fold over into madness. Dimly I felt myself falling forward as the dream of water was forgotten.

  *****

  My face smacked hard against something that was moving. I was moving.

  Gradually I became aware that the motion I was experiencing was that of a wagon. Then the feel of hands and being jostled around. Then water. That I remembered the most. The taste of water then nothing.

  *****

  I opened my eyes and then willing myself to move I sat up. Dizzily I held on to the side of the cot for a moment. Blinking my eyes I looked about the room. In startlement I saw that I was in a jailhouse!

  The cell doors were all open though. Still it was not a good feeling to awaken to.

  I swung my feet over the side of the cot and glanced at my arm. The swelling was down considerably and other than some leftover fogginess in my head I felt all right. Standing upright I stepped forward and eased the ajar cell door further open.

  I stepped out of the cell in expectation of being yelled at, but nothing happened. Making my way clear of the cell bay I stepped into the main office and a younger man looked up from a book and said, “Ahh my patient has awakened! Not only awakened but has risen! Truly fascinating. Here take a seat.” He finished with as he vacated his chair and set his book down on the lone desk in the room, which I took to be the marshal’s desk.

  Feeling the need to sit I took him up on the offer and sat down. Looking around I asked uncertainly, “Why am I in jail?”

  The man laughed, “Oh that! My doctor’s office is being built and so for now I’m using the jail as my practice. Edgar Farling is the name.” He finished with enthusiastically as he offered his hand to me.

  I took it and said, “Taran Collins.”

  “Ahh an Irish man! It must be the luck of the Irish behind your survival. Tell me did you see the snake that bit you?” He asked with keen interest all the while looking at my arm.

  I nodded and began describing the snake to him and then adding I said, “I’ve never seen such a brightly colored snake before.”

  “And that would be for good reason as they do not exist anywhere else other than for the surrounding area.”

  Inclining my head to the side I asked, “And how do you know that?”

  “Well in addition to being a doctor I dapple in the science of crypto zoology.”

  “What is crypto zoology?” I asked dumbly.

  Edgar waved his hand through the air and said, “It’s just a fancy name for looking for dead or extinct animals that one may think still have some members surviving to the present day.”

  “Oh I see.” I said, although I didn’t.

  A speculative gleam came into the man’s eyes, “What’s even more fascinating is that you are the first survivor of such a snake attack that I am aware of. Most people die within seconds.”

  I shrugged at the open question for answers that I saw in his eyes.

  “Yes, as I was saying from my analysis of this snake’s venom I have determined that its impact on the body unlike that of the venom of a rattlesnake is that of a paralysis of the nervous system rather than a poisoning of the blood.”

  “What you’re talking about is Greek to me.” I said shaking my head.

  My response seemed to garner even more interest on the doctor’s part, “Greek you say? You must be a well-traveled man and an educated one at that to know of the land of Greece.”

  “It’s just an expression.” I said looking away from him.

  “That may be. Tell me stranger, your people, extended family I mean by that, would they happen to hail from the Appalachian Mountains in the East?”


  Looking the man over closely I said, “They would. Why do you ask?”

  Edgar retreated from his interested verbal probing by saying, “Just a hunch given your last name.”

  “What about my last name?”

  Edgar had gotten up and opened the door to the jailhouse. Holding it open he gestured to the outside, “What say you to getting a bit of fresh air and something to eat?”

  I didn’t like him not answering my question, but the mention of food overwhelmed everything else. I got to my feet and headed for the door.

  Passing through it we began to make our way down the upraised boardwalk. A sudden sensation of nakedness had me feeling at my side for my gun.

  “It’s back at the jail. Do you need it?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” I said, but the truth was I felt naked without it.

  On the heels of the revelation of my lack of a gun I remembered that I no longer had my horse and without the saddle bags it bore I was stone flat broke.

  “I don’t have any money to pay you or buy food with.”

  Edgar waved my statement away, “No matter. The mystery of your survival is payment enough to satisfy my penchant need for discovery for many months to come.”

  The man made no sense and yet I liked the affable nature that he had about him. It didn’t sit well with not being able to pay my way though.

  Sitting down in the town’s café I found myself the source of attention of almost everyone in the room. I nodded to them and for the most part that seemed to invoke the response of receiving the same back from them and the return to their own business.

  The door of the café opened and a tall middle-aged man that had a presence largely brought about by his size of stature stepped in. Seeing Edgar and I he headed straight for our table and extended a big hand to me, “Welcome to Orlaca! I’m the blacksmith and when misfortune calls the undertaker of our small community.”

  I took the man’s hand and met his iron grip with all the strength I could muster of my own rightly figuring he was the type of man who liked to crunch others hands by way of asserting his dominance. It had been fine as a boy, but now I didn’t care for that game anymore.

  The man looked at me approvingly before releasing my hand and asking Edgar, “Mind if I join you?

  “No, have a seat Thaddeus. Taran Collins this is Thaddeus Smith.”

  I nodded cordially as the big man pulled up a chair and sat down. The atmosphere was getting a little close, as by nature I am a private individual, and the close proximity of others at the table was growing wearisome.

  A kindly looking woman arrived at the table with a rustle of skirts and began pouring cups of coffee, “Well now look what the doc drug in. Ya do look in the need of some fattening up. Just be a moment and I’ll be back with some fiddles to do the job of welcoming you back to the land of the living.” She said, as she gave me a good-natured smile before hurrying off.

  “That kind lady is the Widow O’Brien.” Thaddeus said before turning his eyes to me to size me up speculatively.

  “So Taran where are you headed for?” Thaddeus asked.

  Putting my coffee cup down I said, “No place in particular. Not anywhere for a while seeing as I lost my horse and have no money. Are there any jobs to be had in this town?”

  Edgar and Thaddeus shared a glance before Edgar said, “Well there is one I think you would be uniquely qualified for. You see we need a Marshal. What do you think?”

  “Aye what do you think?” Thaddeus commented boisterously as well.

  Looking between the two I asked in a measured out tone, “Why do you think I’m uniquely qualified for the job? You don’t know me.”

  “Ah Taran there be more ways of knowing what a man’s about then by what he says and the look about you is all of one that spells out confidence. Ya have the look of a man that can get the job done every time. Don’t you think so Doctor?”

  “Oh yes I do. A most intriguing man.”

  I looked between the two before asking, “Are there any other jobs?”

  “Well I could use some help in the mortuary business. Have you ever built coffins?”

  The food arrived and thankfully I was saved from having to answer that question. I’d never made a coffin, but I’d filled too many that at some point I’d lost count.

  The food before me disappeared and with it came the growing realization that I’d like to continue eating.

  “How much does the Marshal’s job pay?”

  “Forty bucks a month. You get free meals and any on the job expenses are covered.” Thaddeus said helpfully.

  Glancing between the two I asked, “On the job expenses?”

  “Yeah things like bullets and the such.”

  I nodded and stared at my empty plate for a moment before saying, “Okay I’ll do it.”

  Thaddeus reached forward with a beaming smile and slapped my back. He then stood up and addressed the café at large, “Everyone may I introduce to you your new sheriff, Taran Collins.”

  There were some halfhearted nods and waves of acknowledgment, which I returned just as weakly.

  Thaddeus pulled a watch from his pocket and exclaimed, “I’m late! I’ll see you later Marshal. Edgar are you coming?”

  Edgar nodded and the two hurriedly left the café.

  I watched the two make their way down the boardwalk quickly in the direction of the hill that I could see at the one end of the town. It seemed every Western town sported its own Boot Hill.

  The Widow O’Brien was back with more coffee that she filled my cup up with and I asked, “Where are those two off to in such a hurry?”

  “Oh there’s to be a funeral today.”

  I glanced from the pair of men to her, “Who died?”

  Her mouth quirked to the one side slightly as she said, “Twould be the former Marshal, whose job you’ve just taken over. Would you be wanting more to eat now?”

  “No, I’m not hungry.”

  She nodded and I rose to leave. Giving me a look she asked, “You do have a gun now don’t you?”

  “Yes ma’am and I think I’d better be getting back to it.”

  “Aye I think that would be good.” She said with a nod.

  As I opened the door of the café she called out, “I do hope you take a liking to your new job. You seem of the decent sort and we’ve had a hard time keeping a man of the law about.”

  I let the door fall shut behind me and hurriedly I took off down the boardwalk. Reaching the jail I looked for the gun I was rarely without and spying my belt slung on the back of a chair I relaxed.

  Pulling my gun free I checked it over and spun the cylinder. Looking out at the street side window of the jail I couldn’t but help wonder how I had allowed myself to be swindled into accepting this job.

  I had went willingly and the truth was I needed the money and coffin making wasn’t to my liking. I holstered my gun and slung my belt on. Instantly I felt better.

  Chapter Four

  Clean-up Begun

  The door jingled as it closed behind me. The man I took to be the shop owner looked up from the paperwork laying before him on the counter.

  As I advanced into the room he pushed his glasses up on his nose and regarded me more closely. His gaze had a way of taking everything in and I immediately felt respect for the man far separate from the diminutive physical presentation he presented the world with.

  He couldn’t be much past five feet tall and other than his balding head he had nothing else distinguishable about him except for the intelligence of his eyes.

  “Can I help you sir?”

  “I need a few things.”

  The man’s eyes took in my appearance again and a slight smile reached his thin lips as he said, “Yes, I can see that.”

  Tilting his head to the side he asked, “You’re the man they brought in that survived the snakebite aren’t you?”

  I nodded.

  He closed the ledger before him with a snap and said, “Well let’s see then, I
think a change of clothes are in order and perhaps some new boots and………”

  I held up a hand forestalling him from going further, “I don’t have money to pay for anything, but I’ve just been hired on as the Marshal. I’m told the position in addition to my wage of forty dollars a month comes along with on the job expenses. I need some bullets and I would like a knife. Can I look at your selection?”

  “Certainly! They’re right over there.” He said pointing to a display case.

  “Thank you. I’ll be back next month to buy what else I need.” I said, as I went over to the case in question.

  The shop owner moved busily about the store as I debated over what knife to get. I’d lost my Arkansas toothpick and I was sorely tempted to get the biggest knife in the case, but the workmanship of it was shoddy and I couldn’t bring myself to replace the best knife I’d ever owned with something so inferior.

  It wasn’t practical either. As a Marshal it would be for the best to have a knife that was more discrete so I chose a long slim boot knife.

  I tapped on the glass and the shop owner came over. He nodded approvingly and slipped the knife out of the case and then pulled free another knife as well.

  The second knife was quite small and of a curious design. Its blade was little bigger than an arrow head and it had a rounded ball of a handle too short to grip a hold of with the entire hand.

  The shop owner pulled it free of its tiny sheath and demonstrated its application. He made a fist. The rounded ball of the handle was within his palm, but the blade of the knife stuck out between his fisted middle two fingers.

  Nice! That would make quite the punch.

  I took both knives and headed to the main counter in order to collect my bullets. I came to a stop as I took in the folded pile of clothes, the pair of new boots, and various other items all set out on the counter.

  I started to protest, but the shop owner preempted me by saying, “Can’t be having our new Marshal not looking his best now can we?”

  It really hadn’t been a question.

  I studied him as he bagged up the items for me. “You’re taking quite the risk on me being around for a while seeing as how your last Marshal is being put under today.”

  He looked at me again with his implacable gaze and said, “I’ll take the risk. The names Angus McLean and it’s been a pleasure to meet you Marshal.”