Desert Rain

The Preacher

His name was Doug Dan Taylor and he had just robbed the union bank at the town of Little Whisky. It had been a daring robbery and there had been several fatalities that day. To Doug Dan Taylor, killing people meant nothing to him. It was his way of life and it was the same for the men who followed him, Mad Mexican Garcia Del Toro, tall Texan Bad Bill Forrester and psychotic former law man, Max Maver’s. The robbery had not gone too well because of the intervention of the sheriff and his deputy. In the ensuring shootout, several people at the union bank had been killed in the crossfire. Doug and his gang had barely got out with their lives, but the main thing to Doug was the loot they escaped with.

There was a huge bounty out for the gang as already they had established a reputation across some of the neighbouring towns in Texas. They had not quite reached immortal status as legends of the wild west, but Doug did not care. They had already stolen enough money to set themselves up for a lifetime. They were not the best looking but with the money they had, they knew they could have any woman they wanted. Doug was a short man with a weeks growth of stubble. His clothes were dusty and his teeth grimy. He had not washed for weeks, and his face was lined and hardened. His eye’s blazed the intensity of an insane man. Bill was the tallest of the gang, well built with a long brown dusty coat to match. Like Doug, his face was lined with stubble. Garcia was the shortest, with long dark greasy hair, a dirty thin white jumper and grey bottoms. He carried three shoulder straps filled with shotgun shells and his favourite weapon, a sawn off shotgun, was sheathed in a holder by the camp fire. Max Mayer’s was the man whose looks seemed innocent to any man, but underneath this innocent façade was a cold and ruthless killer. His face was dirty and lined with stubble and his clothing was torn. Once deputy lawman, he grew tired of law and order and had decided to forge his own path as an outlaw.

Camped ten miles from the town of Little Whisky, all four of them celebrated under a clear pale moon, dancing around a large camp fire that crackled with fierce intensity. Little sparks came out from the tip of the fire like a dozen lit up flies, dancing in a formation as if attracted to the fire itself. Scattered around the fire was a few empty bottles of whisky. Doug and his gang of three had drunk themselves into a stupor to a point where they were oblivious to the tall dark shape watching them from the shadows.

Garcia took out his gun as he sung to the top of his voice, firing off a few shots in the air. Bill Foster followed suit, screaming out into the night, his mind filled with thoughts of riche, whisky and women, a life beyond the one he was accustomed to. Doug was about to draw out his gun and fire off into the night, when he saw the shape hiding in the shadows. The singing soon died out and all four of them saw the shape step out of the darkness to reveal a tall young man. He was dressed completely in black and had a white collar which gave him the appearance of a church minister. His hair was jet black, yet his skin was a pale white just like the moon itself. Doug instantly drew out his gun and pointed it at the stranger in front of them. The other three followed instantly yet the stranger did not seem fazed by fact that he had four guns pointed at him by four men who would kill him without a moments hesitation.

“Who are you?” snarled Doug Dan Taylor.

The tall man spread his arms out wide, his palms outstretched, a gesture as if to tell them he meant no harm. “I am a friend, just passing by,” he said in a soft and kind voice.

“You got a lot of guts stepping into our space,” growled Mayers. He fired off a shot at the strangers foot. The bullet missed it by inches, but he had intended it as a warning. “Can you dance boy?” he howled.

“I assure you I come in peace,” the man told them.

“Then what you doing out here preacher?” demanded Doug. He rubbed his eye’s to clear out the web of drunkenness that was clouding his vision.