Moe Jedd: Part Four. Flagg's Peak

On to Flagg's Peak.

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 At first glance it looked like a tall pile of rocks sitting in the middle of a small forest of various Cacti, there were organ pipe, saguaro, and cereus surrounding it, it wasn't until they rounded the top of the hill that they saw the small outhouse sitting out by itself that they realized that the structure was indeed man made, and when they saw the strange looking animal sitting alone twenty feet away they knew for certain that there was a Harvester nearby. Preacher rode around the back of the small building while Moe Jedd opted for the more direct approach, he got off the horse and approached the opened front door, when he looked inside he saw a dead body lying on the floor face down, and over in the corner was the Harvester bent over what Moe could only guess was the dead persons belongings. Outside, Preacher wondered to himself while he rode back around to the front of the building how would Moe Jedd react when he saw a live Harvester for the very first time, and as he rounded the corner of the front of the building he could hear the roar of Moe's army colts come to life, the body of the Harvester came flying out the front door turning to dust as it landed. Moe Jedd appeared in the doorway with both colts drawn, the smoke still rolling from the barrels. Moe turned to look at the animal as it walked toward them, he raised the Army colts once again and fired two rounds into it's skull, it slowly keeled to the side and fell to dust. he replaced the colts into his holsters and turned to face Preacher.

"Well, if there was someone living here there has to water nearby, I'm going to go find it, we'll bury that feller inside when I get back, this will give us some shelter for the night, and give the horse a chance to rest." 

He set out to find some water while Preacher unpacked the horse's for the night, once he found the spring some fifty yards away, he went back to the rock cabin where they found some wooden buckets to retrieve water with. They rested through the night with Moe Jedd sleeping off and on keeping an ear out for other Harvesters. They both woke before dawn and returned to the trail before sunrise. The sun began to pull up over the horizon as the sky began to glow gold and red, they came to within six miles of Flaggs Peak when Moe picked up the trail remnants of three different sets of horse tracks headed due west, the tracks were old, Moe figured them to be at least three weeks old, Preacher rode up behind him and dismounted.

"You think it's them Moe Jedd?"

Moe rose to his feet, staring off into the desert.

"These tracks are more than three weeks old, the winds coming out of Dry Gulch should have blown them away by now." Moe said.

Preacher looked down at the tracks.

"So why didn't they?"

"Because the tracks have turned almost glass like." Moe answered.

Moe climbed back up into his saddle and removed the field glasses from their leather case and began to lookout over the sands. there were no signs of movement save for the wind which was beginning to pick up. Moe Jedd put the field glasses back in their case, he turned to Preacher, there was a look of concern on his face. They would have to ride hard and fast across a part of the Desolation Sands called the Narrows, or they were going to get caught in the middle of a severe sandstorm, they pushed their animals almost to the point of dropping dead, when they'd reached the shelter of Blood Rock Canyon the sand was blowing so hard they couldn't see two feet in front of them, they took the animals into a natural rock cave above the creek bed that flowed down from the Timberlines. In the shelter between the narrow canyon walls they were spared from the worst of the sandstorm, the wind was still whipping through, but there wasn't as much sand so it was safe for the horses to drink from the creek. Meanwhile, both Moe and Preacher weren't convinced they were completely alone in the canyon, in fact Moe was more convinced that two riders going full out trying to outrun a Sandstorm had attracted the wrong kind of attention. Moe had his back up against the eastern wall of the cave while Preacher was across from him, both had their weapons drawn.  

The first shot ricocheted off the entrance of the cave, the second grazed preacher in the left thigh, Moe raised the army colts hesitating until the right time his first two shots tore through the chest of the first Harvester the second came walking through the sand and wind like death itself, it was the tallest one Preacher had seen to date, well over six foot tall, the flesh falling off its skull, it's long brown leather coat had blood stains all over it, it's first two shots tore chunks of stone and rock out of the cave wall, undeterred, Moe Jedd's next shot hit it right between the eyes, it reeled backward and let out a blood-curdling shriek, it turned to dust before its body hit the ground. Moe put the neckerchief over the bottom of his face and stepped out of the cave, the first one that he took out was lying on the ground, its body still intact, he turned to face Preacher.

"I only hit it in the chest, you got any rope left?" He shook his head no.

"Well, we're going to have to try something else then."

He gathered sagebrush and dried twigs and made a deathbed on the other side of the creek in a long hole in the side of the canyon wall, he drugged the Harvesters body across the creek and lay it on the dried sagebrush and twigs he lit a match out of the wind and ignited it, within minutes the Harvesters body was engulfed in flames. They watched from across the creek in the mouth of the cave as the blaze slowly turned the body to ash. Preacher's wound turned out to be nothing serious, the shot had barely grazed his thigh, just barely breaking the skin

.

"Do you reckon those two fellers were the ones we're looking for?"

"Naw, their animals left different tracks. Slackjaw and his boys are still out there somewhere. And if we're within five miles of him he'll be on our scent real soon." 

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Moe Jedd: Part Three... Stone Cold Dead.

Stone-cold Trail.

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 Although it wasn't rundown, O'Malley's wasn't a fancy saloon either, it was simply well maintained and well stocked with enough whiskey to wet the dry lips of any cowboy or trail bum that would stumble in. O'Malley saw him come through the doors and nodded him to the side of the bar, it was almost as if he was expecting him, Moe obliged the notion and leaned against the bar. O'Malley set up a bottle of whiskey with a glass, he poured Moe Jedd a drink.

"Figured you'd be headed this way, Moe, at least I was hoping that you would."

"Why is that O'Mall?"

"You heard about Cobb, Big John and Kyle getting themselves shot above Flat Nose, no doubt?"

"Yeah, Hetty told me."

"Did she tell you there was a witness?"

Moe Jedd's eye's narrowed.

"No, she left that part out."

"Jeb Coring was up in the rocks above the fresh water spring where they were shot lad, There were three, He was watching them, he saw Cobb, Kyle and the kid all three shot by the same guy, Jeb saw his face, half of it anyway."

"Half of it?"

"Yeah, Well, half of it was falling off of his skull, The other half looked like Slackjaw Hatton."

"Slackjaw's dead O'Mall' I saw him die."

O'Malley's face turned white.

"Kyle plugged him twice, and he didn't even slow down. He IS dead Moe, and them fella's with him too, no doubt, and you? you gotta kill him again. Look Moe, we've lived here our whole lives, we all know what lies between Heaven and Hell, and we all know whatever is in the Desolation Sands ain't of this earth m'boy, and we don't need the devil's kin riding hell all over this land."

Moe didn't answer. O'Mally motioned him toward the back room.

"You're going to be needing a bigger gun, Moe, I've got just the thing."

He pulled out a long rifle and laid it on the table.

"It's a 44-77 Caliber Sharps Buffalo gun, most barrels are 26 inches long, This one's a bit longer, rear sights, single shot cartridge, I got you two boxes of shells and a scabbard, it won't do you much good if you get in close. what kind of Pistols you carrying these days Moe?"

"44 caliber Army colts." He answered. 

"Yeah, those will take a fool's head off up close. And you're gonna have to take his head clean off."

He handed Moe Jedd a Leather case containing a set of field glasses, Moe nodded, He turned and opened the back door and they both walked out stopping at the southwest corner of the building, he turned to Moe Jedd.

"I can put you on their old trail, Moe, but it's probably gone cold by now."  O'Malley said.

Moe Jedd hoisted the Sharps over his shoulder and grabbed the scabbard, attaching it to his saddle. He pulled himself up on the horse, and turned to look down at O'Malley.

"A cold trail ain't gonna be no problem, O'Malley." He said.

"How are you gonna find them?"     

"They're dead O'Mall' all I gotta do is start at the beginning and follow the smell." Moe said.

"Well, They were up at Flaggs peak, and they were said to be heading west, that was what? A month or so ago? you could probably save yourself some time by skirting around the bottom of the western end of the Timberlines and when you come out you'll be coming out at the northwest corner of the Desolations, you should be able to pick up a better trail there. Just head due west from there, get behind them Moe, you don't want to be in front of these three. Godspeed my friend."

"Thank you, O'Malley, you're a good friend. Be seeing you again."

   

He rode along the bottom ridges of the mountains and as it turned out O'Malley had given him sound advice, for a completely different reason. He was still eight miles from the northwest corner of the Desolation Sands when he felt the air turn colder, winter had come early to the upper elevations of  the Timberline's and more than likely if he had taken another overland route he would have frozen to death before breaching the summit. He rode through most of the night, the full moon offering him more than enough light, by the time the sky became slightly paled in color, he found himself once again on the cliffs edge that overlooked the Desolation Sands, as the light slowly spread across the vast desert, soft hues of green and gold began to take shape. It almost looked peaceful, but underneath it all he knew all too well that it was a ruthless unforgiving place, He rested for over an hour in the rocks above the valley before riding down the rocky trail into the Desolation Sands. He had put a full mile behind him as the sun began to rise at his back, in the distance he began to see patches of various cactus appear, he turned along the trail and there against a large rock was a body.

He got off the horse to see if it was someone that he knew. The name carved on the handle of the dusty rifle read property of Buzzard Jim, he had been dead for a while given the stench he had probably baking in the sun for at least three days, what the vultures didn't eat was left to rot. He slowly stood up, his attention now fixed on something in the distance. He could hear a voice softly echoing from across the sand, he pulled himself back up in the saddle and headed in the direction of the voice. It slowly became louder until he could see a figure in the distance cursing out loud. He was of a man of medium build perhaps five foot eight or nine, He wore a long black coat, and he spoke in a raspy thick southern accent. He didn't even hear Moe come up behind him as he busied himself with digging a hole. Off to his left, he saw a pair of boots lying in the dirt. Moe rode up to them, there lying on the ground was a decaying corpse, with straggly brown hair, black clothes and a pair of shiny silver pistols that he didn't recognize strapped to his hips. Moe silently watched him as the man stopped digging and joined him near the corpse.

"Foul smelling beasts aren't they, though?" He asked.

Moe turned to look at the strange new face, his feeling of disgust slowly rising in the pit of his stomach.

"What in the hell is that thing anyway?" Moe asked.

"That my friend is what they call a Harvester, least that's what I call them.  A denizen of Hell, walking this earthly plane, sent directly by the devil himself, to spread death and plague upon this earth. Soul Harvester. But it ain't just any souls that they're after, only the worst of the worst will do."

He turned to face Moe Jedd and extended his hand.

"Oh, do forgive me, I didn't mean to be rude. I am Gabriel Bishop. But you may call me Preacher."

"Preacher?"

"Yes. I once even had my own church not more than twenty miles from this very spot, until a couple of these heathens burnt it to the ground."

He looked Moe Jedd up and down, slowly pulling the gloves from his hands.

"Well then, now you know who I am, so who pray tell are you?" He asked.

"My name is Jedd, Moe Jedd, I believe I'm tracking some of his friends." He said, nodding toward the corpse. 

"How many... Exactly?" 

"I hear tell there's three of em. one of them used to be a saddle buddy of mine. Until he got himself shot dead during a bank robbery gone bad."

"Well now, that could be a problem."

"Why's that?"

"The most I've ever seen in one place is two, three means it's a hunting team, they're looking for someone in particular." Preacher said.

Moe Jedd took a deep breath.

"Well, I reckon that would be me."

"You? Moe Jedd?"

"These three things, killed a friend of mine and some of his friends, right below Flaggs Peak, wrote my name on a rock... in his blood."

"Well now... That's sounds personal. You ever kill one of these things Moe Jedd?"

"Nope, don't reckon I ever even seen one til now." He answered 

"Well, I've been at this for over a year and a half now, and I've killed three dozen or so. You won't find them on the mountains, they don't appear to like the cold much, but the Desolation Sands? They're crawling with them. This here is a big desert, two thousand square miles of rock and sand. Here, help put him in the hole."

Moe Jedd helped Preacher put the body in the hole, Moe found it curious that he had bound the body with arms at its side with rope. They threw it in the hole face down, and Preacher began shoveling dirt back in on top of it.

"What's the idea, you tying the body up?" He asked.

"Well you shoot them in the head, the body turns to dust right away, you shoot them in the chest they don't die right off, unless you shoot them more than once, when they do die, tie the arms to the side bury them, face down, they seem to stay nice and dead that way. The first couple that I killed dug themselves up, and I had to kill them again. Like anything else, it's a learning process."

Preacher finished burying the body and put the shovel across the back of his saddle. Moe Jedd watched him curiously as his mounted the Appaloosa. He started to ride away but stopped and turned in his saddle to face Moe.

"Are you coming then Moe Jedd?" He asked. 

The curious look on his face had not left him since he'd first met the man he now knew as Preacher.

"Where are we going?"

"I think a good place to start as any would be Flaggs Peak."

They turned away from the sun and begun to ride across Desolation Sands, Flaggs Peak was still thirteen miles out. 

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Moe Jedd... Part Two. Bore's Tusk.

Back Jumpers.

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It took them a lot longer with Moe, longer than it did with many others, at least. Most of the Harvesters prey were just common scoundrels of the lowest sort and were as easy to find as night and day, but Moe Jedd proved to be craftier and more elusive than most. They would track him across the highest mountains, to the lowest valleys, across the great plains and through the hottest deserts on any continent. Moe Jedd was just cut different, he'd been shot, time and time again, left for dead countless times, and then as though through the will of some dark god he would appear yet again to wreak havoc on all those who dare try him. In spite of his current condition Slackjaw Hatton knew that Moe was not cut from the same cloth as normal men, and when the time would come for him to stand face to face with him Slackjaw knew that he could ride with all hell at his back and Moe Jedd would still find a way to cut him down. Still, he would not relent. He and his minions would follow the trail of Moe Jedd right on through until winter would come.

Thursday, October 28th 1869, 10:00 am.

He rode for five days straight through Desolation Sands, considered by most normal folks a death ride across a literal wasteland. And yet Moe Jedd had done it several times and knew what it took to survive in the unforgiving wilderness. He lived on Barrel Cactus innards, knew where to find water, and cooked and ate lizard and rattlesnake meat, as he rode he kept the sun in front of him, there was a single rider on his heels, Moe wasn't wanted so he took him for a scrounge who was looking for easy prey and when he got within range his aim was to kill Moe and steal his gear. He rode around a crest of rocks and hid his animal, letting the rider close the distance, The scrounge had his rifle drawn when he rose over the rocks, he opened fire and there was no one there. Moe had flanked him to his right and the first shot from his Army colt ripped his belly open and took him clean off his saddle, he landed in the hot sand with a gaping hole in his side, he tried to sit up while trying to hold his guts in, Moe's second shot ripped a second hole in his stomach, he could almost smell the stench of his own fresh gushing blood cooking in the desert sun, Moe's third shot took half of his head off. He calmly walked over to the scrounge's horse and grabbed the reins, it didn't offer resistance, he walked back over to the body leading the horse along, Moe took all the guns and checked his pockets there were a few coins and not much else, He stared down at the now lifeless body of the scrounger.

"See what you did? You went and turned ME into a scrounger. Damn back jumpers." 

He returned to his own animal and tethered the scrounger's to his saddle and headed to a part of rocky peak called Flat rock there was shade and a small fresh water pool there, and a place to build a fire, Moe decided to rest there for the night. He would wipe both animals down with cool water and let them free to drink in the fresh water pool while he went through the scrounger's saddlebags, where he found another bag full of coins a tobacco pouch, some jerky, and a bag of oats that he would feed to the animals.  He decided that the rifle was worth saving, the two Schofield pistols would need some cleaning, but he could more than likely trade them for dried goods, the animal was well-kept so it would be useful. He would trade the guns after a good cleaning at the next trading post, and maybe the horse as well.  He made a fire in the rocks and slept off and on during the night uncontested.  The next morning, he loaded both animals back up and filled two canteens with fresh water. and when he rode out the other side of Desolation Sands he rode up into the higher elevations, before eight o'clock he rounded the upper peak of the Timberline mountains and could see nestled amongst tall pine trees was the tiny dusty mountain settlement of Bore's Tusk. 

There were all in all four buildings, it was just more or less nothing but a place to get a drink maybe shelter and supplies before travelers would press on with their journeys, Bore's Tusk was little more than a saloon, a tack and livery stable a trading post and stage station. There was no sherrif and no law to be had but what they made for themselves. He rode in mid-morning, quickly attracting unwanted stares. Although Moe had been there before, most folks that passed through didn't recognize him. He sat tall in the saddle, his blonde hair was long dirty and shaggy, with the two Army Colts strapped to his hips, Moe Jedd held the appearance of a menacing man, broad shouldered muscular and strong, he was quite the imposing figure. He kept the scrounger's animal in tow and pulled rein in front of Madam's Daiquiris Big Tooth saloon, Moe climbed down from the saddle and tethered both horses to the hitching post. When he came walking through the double swinging doors the older woman behind the bar's face lit up, Hetty Grainger was well-kept with slightly graying black hair, which she kept up in a bun. She was a pretty woman with kind eyes, but the shotgun she kept behind the bar hidden from view allowed her to get nasty whenever the need should arise. 

"Why, as I live and breathe, Moe Jedd." She smiled.

He walked up to the bar and placed three coins on the counter, she pulled a small glass from the shelf along with a half full bottle of Whiskey, she uncorked it and pour him a glass, while eying him curiously.

"I've been hearing things about you, Moe." She said.

"Like what things Hetty?" He asked flatly before taking a drink.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice softly falling into a guarded whisper. her sparkly hazel eyes danced around the room nervously.

"I hear tell, there's some feller's lookin for you Moe, real nasty fellers. Over near Flat Nose I hear, on the other side of the desert. Sherrif of Flat Nose Abe Rosen and three of his deputies found the bodies of Kyle Cole, John Booth and Cobb Farris up in the rocky hills at Flagg's Peak, and there was some young feller riding with them, he got himself expired too. Somebody done wrote your name on a big flat rock in Cobb Farris's blood. Sherrif Rosen figures since you and Cobb used to ride together and all, they would be comin for you next."

Moe Jedd shrugged his shoulders.

"Hell Hetty, I reckon there's always somebody lookin for me, I'll probably be meetin up with them sooner or later, Let em look I ain't hidin nowhere." He finished his whiskey and she poured him another.

"Damn Moe, no offense, but you look like you could use a bath, and a shave too."

"Yep, I've been ridin for a bit, probably got enough trail dust on me to make my own sand dune. I'll be headin over to Henry's tradin post next, maybe get me some dried beans and a chunk of dried bacon. maybe a bar of soap, I got some things to trade, and then I'll be headin up to the Hot Springs near Marmett, I reckon I'll be able to scrounge me up a rabbit or two while I'm there."  

"There's some wild hog up there too this time of year." she added.

He took another shot of whiskey and nodded to Hetty Grainger, and turned to leave when she called to him a last time.

"Moe?"

He turned to face her.

"You reckon them three fellers will come this far north to look for you?" She asked.

"I guess we'll find out together, Hetty."

He went into the trading post and was met at the door by the proprietor Henry Wilcom, who agreed to take the guns and extra horse off of his hands. He traded for some dried beans and rice, lard, salted pork, potatoes and a bar of soap and two clean towels which he would keep rolled up in his bedding along with a change of clothes and a pack of matches. Henry who really liked Moe even gave him a couple dollars extra, due to the extra large size of his saddlebags Moe was able to carry a little bit of everything, He loaded up his supplies and set out for the Marmett hot springs. Marmett was a deserted old mining camp that sat a bit higher up in the Timberline's where the edge of the snow would fall, there were two broken down old buildings up there that nobody used anymore, one of them was good enough to keep the cold nights at bay and it even had a wood stove, a place to sleep and a table. He arrived at Marmutt just before dusk after he unpacked his gear he had just enough light left to gather some water from a nearby stream and enough wood to start a fire in the old stove before he would bed down for the night. Through the night full of thinking about the death of his old friend Cobb Farris and the wonderings about the who's and why's of who would do such a thing and why. His sleep would be slightly troubled. In the morning on his way to the hot springs he found a nest and shot a prairie chicken, he bathed in the hot springs dried himself and changed his clothes before heading back to the mining shack to shave and prepare his breakfast.

By late morning he was dining on fresh prairie chicken, and eggs he collected from the nest, and for the first time in many months, Moe Jedd was starting to once again feel human. As he sat in front of the mining shack his thoughts once again returned to the fate of Cobb Farris, Cobb was smart, he always knew the angles ahead of time, it would take someone special to get up on him the way Hetty said. He would spend two more days and nights in the shack plotting and preparing for his next move. Two days after arriving he packed his provisions and decided that the best idea would be to ride overland across the Timberline's south before the deep snow had a chance at settling in, and then heading due west. If he rode steady he could be at Flagg's peak above Flat Nose in just under a week. And as he rounded  the top of the last peak of the Timberline's He stopped for the night in a hollowed out cave on a lower shelf, started a small fire and allowed his animal to rest, Flaggs Peak was still a day and a half out to the west. Come morning he would take the time to clean both of his weapons, and take stock of his ammunition, deciding that he had a abundant supply, he reloaded both Army Colts before returning to the saddle the next morning and heading west, He would stop one more time between The Timberline's and Flagg's Peak at O'Malley's, a saloon in Bullwark Station another Stagecoach watering hole along the way. He made it and rode in the next day just before high noon.

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Moe Jedd: Desolation Devils. (Part One)

 

Wayward West

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They’d been up one pile of rock after another, run through endless miles of sand and sagebrush. From east to west, through desert, through every washed out, dried up river bed, across the top of every snow capped mountain peak in North America. They had started out with twelve men and, one by one the three riders that had been following them every step of the way, had slowly whittled them down to three. John Booth was the last to fall. Half ways up Flagg’s Peak, the lead rider took him out of the saddle from almost 500 yards out, one shot landed clean, right through the back of his throat, Booth was dead before his body hit the ground. Alarmed, Kyle Cole spun around in his saddle just in time to see his throat explode into a brilliant cloud of red liquid as he fell forward onto the sand and dirt. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sun and could barely make out the three silhouettes on horseback in the valley behind them. He removed the spy glass from his saddlebag as Cobb Farris appeared at his side. He looked through the glass at the blurry images before handing it to him.

"Take a good gander at the lead rider, Cobb, tell me who it looks like."

He took the glass and raised it to his eye, before shooting a nervous glance back at Kyle Cole.

"I don't know, can't see his face, but he does feel familiar."

"The way he sits in that saddle, he kinda looks like Slackjaw." Kyle offered.

"That ain't possible Kyle, he's been dead for over ten years now, I watched him die myself dead is dead, ain't no coming back from that."

"Yeah, well, the way that lead rider took out Booth? He kinda shoots like him, too."  

Cobb Farris raised the glass back to his eye. a soft whistle escaped his dry sun parched lips

"Yeah, he does kinda feel familiar, though."

 “Well, whoever they are, They ain’t gonna quit until we’re all dead, Cobb. they may be Bounty Hunters, You sure that you and Hollis ain’t wanted for anything?” Kyle asked.

Cobb Farris’s bony fingers scratched at his thick black beard as his blue eyes danced nervously back and forth between Kyle Cole and the three riders down in the valley.

“Stole a horse once, that was years ago. Killed a fella or two, already put in my time for that though, Hollis? He came with his folks from back east. Mama’s a teacher, daddy’s a merchant. He ain’t never had the gut to break no laws.”

He handed the glass back to Kyle Cole.

He was fidgeting in the saddle, his level of discomfort slowly growing as he watched the three riders in the distance through the spy glass. He looked up at the sun and then at his two partners, Jeffrey Hollis and Cobb Farris. Hollis appeared at his side.

“Still back there are they Kyle?” he asked.

He turned in his saddle to face him, casting suspicious glances between him and Cobb.

“They’re down in the valley, climbing the rocks in these hills is gonna slow us down some. They’re gonna make up ground on us before we get to the other side.”

He collapsed the spy glass and secured it in his saddlebag. And turned to the rocky trail leading up farther up toward the hilltop.

“We’d best keep moving, I don’t reckon that they’re gonna let up anytime soon.”

The full moon would offer them enough light to travel on through most of the night putting more distance between them and the mysterious riders lapping at their heels, when they had risen over the second mountain peak the sun was beginning to rise, that was when Kyle Cole once again removed the glass and turned in his saddle to check on the riders trailing behind them, he raised the glass and looked down at the advancing riders.

"Damn, they closed more than half the distance, only now there's only two of them." Kyle said.

"What?"

Cobb reached for the glass, Kyle Cole handed it to him.

"Shit, Kyle, where do you reckon that other feller lit out to?"

Kyle Cole considered the question carefully.

"Well there ain't nothing but rocks on our right, there ain't no animal making it through there, so my best guess is he's off to the left of us somewhere. not sure where, though." 

"Yeah? so for all we know he could be anywhere, just waiting on us to just wander into his sights." 

"What are you thinking, Cobb?"

"There's a fresh water spring in them rocks down there in the valley, if we can make it that far we refill our canteen's and split up, why make it easy for them? about twenty miles over that range to the right of us, there's a deserted mining camp up there near Pinewood, it's called Polecat, we can meet up there and regroup."

Kyle Cole wasn't convinced. 

"Twenty miles? That's quite a ways off when you got three cold-blooded killers crawling up your back, I don't know, Cobb."

Cobb collapsed the glass and handed it back to Kyle Cole.

"Alright Kyle, you got a better plan? let's hear it."

Jeffrey Hollis appeared.

"Hey I saw something flash in those rocks off to our left, like the sunlight bounced off something, whatever we're gonna do boys, we best be getting to it quick."

"Get to the spring, we refill our canteens and split up from there." Cobb said.

Kill Shot

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They rode down the hill pushing caution and any thoughts of the riders from their minds, they managed to reach the fresh water spring just before ten o'clock in the morning. one by one they got off of the animals and headed down to the spring Jeffrey Hollis swung his leg over the side of his horse and was getting his canteen when Kyle Cole and Cobb Farris first heard the shot ring out, the next thing they saw was Jeffrey Hollis's brains exploding out the back side of his skull, they both dismounted, as the third rider appeared in the trail ahead of them on foot, it was the first time they got clean look at him, he was tall and lean, well over 6 foot, long dirty hair with two six shooters drawn, one in each hand the oddest thing he wore a long black coat with hood over his head concealing his face.  As he slowly approached, both Kyle Cole and Cobb Farris took cover and began firing at him. Kyle's first two shots hit him clean in the leg, and they didn't even slow him down, he raised the pistols and fired off two shots of his own, the hit Kyle clean in the chest, the second got him between the eyes. He turned to Cobb who had retreated toward the rocks, he once again raised the pistol aiming for his leg, Cobb heard the shot ring out and looked down just in time to see his right knee explode into bone fragments, blood and muscle tissue. he let out a painful scream as he fell to the ground, the menacing stranger slowly approaching.

He dropped his only pistol when he felt his knee explode, the unbearable pain ringing in his ears. he reached for the pistol until he suddenly felt a new pain as a boot pressed down on his hand, stopping it in mid-motion. as he looked up at the stranger, he could clearly see the right side of his face for the first time, his worst fears materializing before his very eyes.

"Sl- Slackjaw? Nooo, You can't be here... I watched you die! Noo, you can't be here. I... I thought you died..." 

He could clearly see then as he raised his left hand, under the glove, he could see, it was a mixture of rotting flesh dried blood and bone. He grabbed the hood and slowly pulled it away, revealing more exposed bone. his rotting skin hung off the side of his face, the side of his cheek was ripped away, exposing his black and brown teeth. he leaned forward looking down at Cobb Farris, in a gurgling hissing voice he replied.

"I Did."

He once again raised the pistol, training it on the head of Cobb Farris."

"Wherrrre Isss Moe Jedd?"

"Haven't seen him in two years or so." Cobb drew in a deep breath. "You want Moe? Go find him yourself, you Sonofabitch."

He squeezed the trigger and curiously watched as Cobb Farris's head exploded. the other two riders appeared and stopped at the beginning of the trail, his horse trailing behind, he pulled himself up in the saddle, he looked at his two companions.

"Wessst... Moe Jedd is West." 

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