Blood

Chapter 3: Idle hands are the devil's plaything

The next morning, Callahan awoke with the dawn, he debated doing as he usually did and leaving before the town started to also wake up and start their days, but this time he stopped to debate with himself. His stomach rumbled from hunger, and the pantry at home was starting to look empty, for just one day of work he could have something for dinner and he could save a trip back and forth, still not ready to try and sleep there with the demons in the shadowy corners. Hearing a rustling from the cellar, he shot up from the floor grabbing his ax as he stood, paranoia had been a constant plague he had to bear ever since he had watched his father fall dead and bleeding at his feet. It was like every dark nook and cranny, every shifting timber, every fast moving shadow, was another threat this time coming for him. He had convinced himself the day his father died that he would fight but in recent days he wasn’t able to believe it. The glare of that dark eyed man who had killed the only family he had left was seared into his brain like a brand, a scar that may never heal. When he closed his eyes he heard that dark eyed man's voice cackling in his ears and seen his face, what details he could remember of it that is, grinning at him with a sick inhuman smile that stretched from ear to ear as if it was just waiting for him to try something, pleading that he would be given an excuse to pull a trigger and send lead through Callahan’s chest. It was a horrible painful vision that he couldn’t outrun and couldn’t raise a heavy arm against. Lost in his thoughts for a moment, Callahan wasn’t paying attention when the hatch to the cellar opened and the preacher stepped out of it. Callahan panicked and stepped back, in the daylight the preacher looked different, softer even, he had the same sheepskin cloak but also wore a black hat and boots that made an already tall figure just a few inches taller. The preacher, both sensing and seeing Callahan’s sudden apprehension took a step further back and raised his hands up in a sign of peace 

“With your permission young Callahan, I would like to get an early start on my day” Callahan composed himself and let down his guard, holding the ax by his side instead of up and ready to use it “sorry preacher, just got startled is all” the preacher let his hands fall to his sides “no apology necessary, you seemed lost in thought and I did not intend to disturb you” after a few more back and forth apologies and rejections of said apologies, Callahan stashed his ax inside the altar not wanting to carry it through town throughout the day. Having only made it into town the day before the preacher didn’t have any of the resources he needed to start the repairs on the church or even to keep himself alive and follow through on their deal. The pair left the church, the curious townspeople watched the two of them unhitch the preacher's horse before Callahan led him to the stables on the other side of town. Callahan did his best to assure the preacher that the townspeople didn’t mean anything by their gawking, it was just always quite the event when a new person came into town. The preacher was already quite unbothered by the onlookers but appreciated the young cowboys' attempt at reassurance. As they walked the old draft horse to their destination, Callahan happened to ask what its name was. “He has no name,” said the preacher, “well you’ve had him for a long while now, a horse should have a name. I would call him Abendago” Callahan spoke in a very matter-of-fact voice, it was clear that he spoke like someone well beyond his years. “And why would that be the name you choose young Callahan?” the preacher asked. As they walked the rest of the way Callahan explained that his father had always wanted a draft horse just like that one, chestnut brown, and large and strong enough to work the fields. “Someday I’ll get us a horse boy, and we’ll call him Abendago” Callahan quoted, he didn’t know why his father had chosen that name but he liked the way it sounded. It was becoming quickly obvious to the preacher that Callahan was much more relaxed in the presence of the horse than away from it seemingly much more comfortable with animals than people, his horse had already taken to him and followed along behind him without resisting which was quite the novelty for this horse, once someone had tried to take him while the preacher was busy in a store and by the time he had made it out the old horse had nearly kicked him to death. When they reached the stables Callahan introduced the preacher to the stablemaster, he was a small wiry man named Alberich. It was quite the academic name for someone who made a living watching over and selling horses. When the preacher was asked for registration papers for the horse he was taken aback while looking at them “sir, I’ll need to know this horses name to stable it” Alberich was persistent in demanding a name, much to the preachers chagrin, and so he finally caved and after ten years it was time to name his horse. He looked down at Callahan and then over to Alberich “the horse's name shall be Abendago” said the preacher concealing the aggravated tone in his voice. Alberich quickly added it to the paperwork and handed it back to the preacher. Callahan gave the horse a quick pat goodbye and the two made their way from the stable towards the general store.