Gunpowder, Magic, and Lead

Chapter 2 The Diabolist

Oren Knox holstered his six shooters. The lithe shadow had ducked into some trees up ahead and his eyesight wasn't as good as it used to be, even in the daytime, much less at night. He felt around on the ground for his walking staff and found it. The staff felt cold to the touch but the rough surface wasn't so polished it wouldn't offer him a way to prop himself back up into a standing position. The old wound in his leg gave him fits, especially on cold nights like this, but he had learned to ignore it, mostly. He put the staff under his right arm and rubbed his cold hands together, blowing on them to get the circulation going again. He reached into his duster overcoat and produced his leather gloves. After carefully pulling on each glove in turn, he grasped his staff and moved through the snow toward the trees where the shadow had gone.

The crisp air was laden with moisture and, sure enough, after he took a few more steps the snow began to fall. He tightened his duster as he traipsed onward. At the tree line, he whispered a few arcane phrases and the diminutive footprints in the snow began to glow a dim, light green. He followed them to a clearing where they disappeared. He carefully surveyed the ground and found wagon tracks, most likely a buckboard wagon. The snow was quickly filling the tracks and erasing them; there wasn't much time to follow them far. It didn't matter, he could see they were traveling for town. They would most likely stop for the night at the saloon and inn to get out of the weather. Oren decided he would return to his cabin and return on horseback at first light.

The snow still fell and the clouds obscured the sun as Oren made his way along the trail, by memory, to town. The cold, wet white stuff wasn't so deep yet as to impede his progress but it was just deep enough to cover up tracks and trails. Only the absence of brush and his keen sense of direction guided him in the correct direction.

The sun was bright enough to break through the canopy of clouds, straight up above, as he arrived at the only saloon in town. He stopped and stared at the building for a long while, contemplating, before he rode a block over to the stables to secure his horse. He trudged through the snow and frozen mud to the saloon. In the past, he had taken to drinking too often and now, in his later years, he found he had to moderate himself. He didn't like what he became after too much of the bottle, but in moderation, he was fine.

Oren removed his leather glove from his right hand and clinched his fist to stop the tremor. A shot of whiskey will fix this. He thought. The double, swinging doors to the saloon swished open as a big man with almost unbearable body odor exited in front of him. the man nodded his head with a grunt, a common greeting in these parts. Oren nodded back and then entered the saloon.

As was his custom when entering a new establishment, he began his survey of the room. One door leading out into the kitchen and possibly the rear of the saloon at the right end of the bar, a set of stairs on the left leading up to a balcony and he inn rooms beyond, nine tables scattered throughout the room, two of which had several men smoking cigars and playing cards. Sitting at one of the tables was three men he recognized as hired men, probably here for the same reason he was. He found his way to the bar all the while seeking the reactions of the patrons to his arrival. No one seemed to care or even notice him, as far as he could tell, not even the three hired men.

"What's your pleasure, stranger?" The barman asked.

"Whiskey, straight up."

The barman set out a shot glass and poured it full of rot gut. Oren downed the shot and winced at the burn. "Another." He said.

The barman tilted the bottle and Oren put his hand over the shot glass to stop him. "The good stuff."

The barman reluctantly corked the bottle and reached under the bar, producing a fancy, clear glass container. He uncorked it and poured the shot. Oren downed it. The burn was absent and the taste was smooth and mellow with a hint of vanilla.