Xaverick's eyes fluttered open to the harsh light of the new day. His head pounded like a drum, and the silence was a stark contrast to Betty's usual hungry screams. He groaned, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, his body protesting every movement. The events of the night before crashed down on him like a collapsing mine, and he realized with a start that Betty was really gone. The words "Fuck you Blackwood" echoed in his mind, a refrain of anger that had become his mantra. He stumbled into the main room of the cabin, his legs wobbly from the whiskey and grief. The sight of her empty pen brought a fresh wave of pain, and he had to brace himself against the wall to keep from falling.
"Why..." he whispered, his voice cracking like a whip in the stillness. The wall seemed to absorb his tears, the planks of wood drinking in his pain like a parched desert. Each drop that fell was a silent accusation, a question to the gods that had abandoned him in his time of need. "Why did you take her?" But suddenly, the front door flew open with a powerful gust of wind, sending dust and debris spiraling through the cabin like a tornado of torment. Xaverick jolted, his heart racing faster than a runaway stagecoach. The sound was like a gunshot, shattering the silence into a million shards of fear. He stumbled towards the door, his hand reaching for the gun he kept on the side table, his mind racing with the horrors that could be waiting outside.
As the dust cleared, he saw it-a giant dust cloud, the size of a small mountain range, heading straight towards his cabin. It was an angry beast, churning and writhing with the fury of the desert's heart. Xaverick's eyes widened in terror as he realized what it meant. A sandstorm. One of the worst kinds to hit the town in years. "Shit," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper. He had to act fast. Stumbling to the pen, he called out to his remaining animals, his voice hoarse from his night of despair. "Come on, girls, we've got to get inside!" The chickens clucked nervously, sensing the impending doom, while the horses whinnied in fear.
With the storm barreling down on them, Xaverick knew there was no time to waste. He worked with the same desperate efficiency that had kept him alive in the harsh desert. He herded the animals into the safety of the barn, their eyes wide with panic. The goats, usually stubborn, followed him without a fuss, their instincts telling them that he was their safest bet. Once the barn door was secured, Xaverick took a deep breath, the dust stinging his eyes and the grit of it coating his throat. He knew he couldn't just sit there and wait out the storm. The town needed him. They were his people, and Betty was just the latest in a long line of souls that had been claimed by the harshness of this unforgiving land.
The wind outside grew louder, like a horde of demons descending upon them. Xaverick wiped his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the dust. He had to get to the saloon, to check on the others and help where he could. His boots crunched on the dry earth as he sprinted towards town, his hand shielding his face from the onslaught of sand. The usually bustling streets of Dustbowl were deserted, the buildings huddled together like terrified children. The saloon's sign swung violently, its wooden boards groaning a mournful tune. Xaverick pushed the swinging doors open with all his might, the wind trying to rip them from his grip. Inside, the townsfolk huddled around tables, their eyes wide with fear and anticipation.
"Xaverick, are you alright?" a familiar voice called out. It was Sheriff Jenkins, his face lined with worry and his hat clutched in his hands. "I'm fine," Xaverick said, though his voice was as raw as a fresh wound. "But we can't stay here." The storm raged outside, the windows of the saloon rattling in their frames like the bones of the damned. The townsfolk looked to him, their faces a canvas of fear. "We've got to get everyone to my barn. It's the sturdiest building in town." Without waiting for a response, Xaverick turned and began ushering people out into the maelstrom. The wind tore at their clothes, the sand scouring their skin like a million tiny knives. They staggered and stumbled, their eyes squinted against the onslaught, as Xaverick led them through the dusty streets to the safety of his property.
As everyone was settling in the barn, the animals already inside seemingly calmer with the influx of people, Xaverick noticed something peculiar. Two figures huddled in the corner, their clothes whipping around them like dark ghosts in the storm. His heart skipped a beat as the dust cleared enough to reveal the faces of Dorian's maids, their wide eyes filled with terror and something else—relief at the sight of him. "You okay, girls?" he asked, his voice gruff but filled with genuine concern. They nodded, their eyes wide and frightened. "Thank you, Mr. Xaverick," one of them managed to murmur, her voice barely audible over the howling wind.
Xaverick's thoughts drifted back to the building's construction. His pops had been a stubborn man, insisting on using concrete and bricks despite the town's preference for the cheaper and faster wooden structures. The barn had been his pops' pride and joy, a bastion of his belief in resilience and preparation. It had been built to withstand anything the desert threw at it—bandits, storms, and even the occasional supernatural disturbance that the townsfolk whispered about in hushed tones. As the townsfolk settled in, Xaverick scanned the faces, his eyes lingering on the spot where Dorian's maids had been standing just moments ago. They were gone. His heart raced as he scoured the barn, his mind reeling with questions. "Wait," he mumbled, his hand unconsciously reaching for his gun, the weight of it comforting. "Where's Dorian?"
He called out over the din of the storm, his voice a shout lost in the wind's fury. "Has anyone seen Dorian Blackwood?" The question hung in the air, unanswered. The townsfolk huddled closer together, their eyes darting around nervously. Xaverick's concern grew into a knot in his stomach.
to be continued....
