The Silver Penance

All Hallow's Eve

He stood in a rocky crease overlooking an isolated home in the valley, a vantage point from which he could keep an eye on the convergence point. He was a careful hunter, so he pulled out a compass with a silver needle that had been blessed by a bishop. It still pointed in the direction of the home, and this was the fifth spot around the house that he had checked to make sure that it would happen there. Three to triangulate the location, and two more to be certain. All locations pointed to the building. The home of Anne Westen.

Every year on All Hallow's Eve, the dead find peace by making their exit from this world, an event called "The Hallowed Passing" by his peers. 

Should only have to worry about one bystander he thought. Good, but I still haven't found that soul eater. He internally sighed. One way to find it for certain he thought as he started in the direction of the cabin.

-

Three knocks and soon the door opened to reveal a semi-hunched old widow of a woman. Old Anne Westen. Although she was inside she wore a shawl, and still had on her daytime clothing even though the sun had set hours ago. "Hello?" she said feebly.

"Evening, ma'am, I'm Colton Billows, U.S. Marshall," he lied. "Was just on my way to El Paso to serve some papers when the sun set on me in open country. I don't mean to beg hospitality but-"

"-Nonsense!" she cut him off. "Listen, I may be old, but I still get around. I know a U.S. Marshall when I see one." She was waving a wrinkled, bony finger at him now. "You'll take my hospitality of my own free will and that's that! It's the least I can do for you brave fellows who patrol the wilderness for folks like us."

You don't know how right you are, ma'am, he thought to himself, smiling.

"Come on, young feller, let's get your wagon in the barn."

It was barely a barn, with too-wide set wooden planks and just enough space inside for the wagon-house and Cole's horse, Thunder. To his surprise, Anne helped him with all of the work, unbolting the wagon, unharnessing and feeding Thunder, She even forked some extra hay in the stall for the horse's bed while Cole cleaned his boots.

A sound came from the rafters, a low rumbling, and Cole drew his six-gun.

"Oh, there's Motley," said Old Anne.

A black cat revealed itself, meowed, and deftly leapt down to rub its face on the elderly woman's calf. "I thought maybe you had returned to where your home was, but I'm glad you decided to stay. It's going to be cold tonight. These old bones can tell these things." She scooped up the cat and gave it a small squeeze.

"His home?"

"I found him last week, all wet and shivering. Must have been put out by some ruffian." She noticed Cole's gun and gave him a sour look.

Cole flushed. "Sorry, ma'am. Bein' overly careful is part of the job description."

Not technically a lie, he thought, as he holstered his gun. One less I'll have to confess.

Many hands made short work and the two of them were soon in the warmth of the fireplace.

-

The conversation was casual, the hour was late, and the knock-out powder was effective. Cole carried Old Anne's unconscious body to his wagon outside and put her inside, lying comfortably on a padded bench. A winged woman inside the wagon scowled at him.

"Always saving, saving, saving people. If you let me eat her instead, you won't have to worry about her during the fight," A'va said with a smile. Cole said nothing and left the wagon, savoring A'va's pouting face as he ignored her vile remarks. Her contract wouldn't let her eat the old woman. Not without Cole's permission. Plus, the wagon was a Sanctuary, the soul eater wouldn't be able to get her in there.