Gunslinger
A young rancher Jack Write sets out to Capital City to find his runaway sister. Not accustomed to the ways of the city, his father hands down a dark family secret to help him. A pair of cursed Colt 45s. A pair of ancient guns formed by evil, demanding blood, and death, sucking the soul from the owner who possesses the wicket weapons.
The young rancher finds trouble at every turn in a crazy world outside the quiet ranch life. Jack is running out of time to help his sister, and to keep his sanity intact. His pure, honest heart battles with the evil on his hips. The guns demand freedom to unleash havoc and chaos to satisfy their bottomless thirst for blood. Jack struggles with his sanity against the evil eating away at him.
Torn with the family’s dark secrets, Jack vowed to get his sister back at all costs. Join the young rancher as he struggles with inner turmoil and disaster at every turn.
Grasping to keep his soul intact, Jack leans on newfound friends to restore order and light in the City’s darkest corners.
Gunslinger
CHAPTER 1
DIG
The aged rancher leaned on the old wooden porch. Looking for clarity in the scorching afternoon sky. Knowing all along that this day would arrive. His time was over. The time for fresh blood was at hand. How much blood had he helped spill in the dirt? How many lives had he taken?
His killing days were over.
He could call upon the guns one more time. That he knew. He also knew he would not return from the madness if he drew blood again.
The power the guns held over him had given him infinite mortality over the years. Unimaginable power. The rancher had paid a great toll on his damaged soul to stop. He couldn't go back to them, not again. Another would need to weld them.
Through all these years, he never met a man or even a woman he felt could take over. The corrupt power of the guns demanded everything of the person who held them.
Time ticked away. He knew the one person who could hold them. The one person whose heart could contain them. At what price? It had taken everything the old rancher had ever been. Taken his own soul.
It needed doing.
He stood motionless in the afternoon shade of the porch, watching the dust roll behind the pickup truck approaching the farmhouse.
His wife of twenty years got out of the passenger side. Carrying groceries with a forced smile. His son had taken her to town to check on any fresh news and picked up supplies.
Jim's only son. Worn jeans. Grey t-shirt pushing to hold in the tough worked muscles only earned from honest hard farm work.
"No news, Jim. Nobody knew came on the last bus."
Jim did not look at his wife. Kept his eyes on his son, hidden under the rim of his worn hat.
"Go inside where it's cooler. I need to speak to Jack alone. I need to show him what's in the barn."
Mary, his wife of twenty years, stopped in her stride. Almost dropping the fresh jugs of milk. She knew what he meant by the ugliness in his face and the tone of his voice. Grabbed his arm in alarm. "Jim?"
"Go inside. I need to speak to the boy alone." Pushing away from the post and her arm.
"Follow me, Jack.". Not looking at him. Walked fast and without pause before he would lose his nerve. Leaving the coolness of the shade to enter the scorching hot sun towards the red barn.
They had a large cattle operation on this ranch. Over the years, Jim had expanded the operation. They owned just over four hundred head of cattle. Six full-time help. Jim had purchased nearby land to grow feed for the winter.
None of that mattered if you had no one to share it with. None of it.
Jack followed his dad into the dusty old red barn. They only used the barn for storage. Unused equipment to keep out of the elements. The ranch had two other metal storage workshops. They seldom used the red barn.
Jack was twenty-five. Lean and muscled. Worked hard on the farm. He was a quick learner. Good with his hands and his head. Enjoyed the farm life. Loved his family. Most of all, he was a God-loving Christian. Always giving and helping others out.
Walking into the old red barn felt good. The cooler air from the heat outside was comforting.
"What are we doing in here, Pop?"
"You heard nothing in town about your sister?"
Pausing, wishing he had better news for his father. His sister Audrey had run away with her best friend to Capital City, hoping to make it big as an actress. That's what the note had said. Folded neatly on the kitchen table the night she left. She had gone to stay with a friend in town for the weekend. It wasn't until the following Monday they realized the two had runoff.
His daughter and her best friend had left a note saying they were sorry but we're off to make it big in the Capital City.
They were both tired of the boring farm life. Young, beautiful, and full of talent. With stars in their eye's the two would make it big.
Jim's daughter had called Tuesday morning, letting them know they had made it to the city safely. Both had auditioned with big producers. Despite pleas from her parents, she would not return till she made it big. She would call with good news from the auditions.
That was three weeks ago. Neither had called.
"Nothing Pop. The Anderson’s haven't heard from Sarah either. Sorry, we were hoping someone in town might have heard something."
The rancher heard him but paid no attention. He continued staring at the wooden workbench in the far corner of the shop. It sat unused and dusty for years. The same spot it had stood for over fifty years.
"What is it, Pop? Do you want to get rid of that old bench? About time. It's taking up a lot of space for nothing."
Turning to study his son's expression. "Yeah, I do." without smiling, sweat beating on his face, turning his collar dark with sweat.
Jack fought with the old bench. Grunting, fighting, cursing under his breath as the bench gave way to his persuasiveness. His back muscles overtaking the stubborn, rotting bench. Jim stood in the shadows watching his son fight with the old dusty wood.
Jack did not see the sweat dripping down his dad's face and back. Nor did he see his dad's hands shaking...
"That's far enough." Jim tossed a long metal shovel to his son.
"Start digging. You will know how deep when you hit metal."
Jack snatched up the shovel. Looked worried at his dad. Jim had always been a fair talker. Not a chatterbox. The way he spoke now sounded almost frightened, distant.
Obeying his dad, he dug into the hard clay. If something was buried here, it had been a long time ago. Jack knew every inch of this farm. This bench had always been here, rotting in the shadows.
Again, he fought the rough dirt with his shovel, one stab at a time. Sweat creased his face and arms, cracking through the old dirt.
"What's down here Pop?"
"Keep digging."
Twenty shovels and a foot deeper, jack hit metal. A sick sting echoed in the deep hole. Jack looked up at his dad. Jim had taken a few steps back. Afraid of what waited in the hole. Scared to drag up the past. To uncover the evil that lay buried.
Jack jumped out of the hole he dug. Whipped his brow. Gathered his breath. Tossing the shovel aside.
"What the hell is going on, dad? What's down there?"
Jim ignored his son, shaking hands and legs, about to give way, peering down into the new hole. Jim heard his heart pounding in his ears.
"The closest thing to a living demon," Jim whispered to himself.
Jim turned to grab a support beam and hurled violently. Jack rushed to grab his dad. Jim collapsed in the dust, grabbing his stomach. He threw up till his stomach emptied dry. Dizziness swayed in his head. Sweat ran down his white face.
"Dad, let's get you inside." Grabbing his dad’s shoulder.
Twisting to meet his son’s concerned eyes. "How much do you love your sister?"
Shocked, stiffening his back at the statement. Insulted for his dad knew the answer. "I love all of us. I would do anything for her. Anything for this family."
"You need to go to Capital City and find her. Bring her home."
Jim wanted to go himself. The moment they found out his precious Audrey had left. Jim had forbidden him. He was not about to lose both of his children. After finally being able to have children, he could not lose either of them. After years of taking lives, life had finally given him a chance to live quietly.
The guns were weapons of death. Unlimited power. They had forged a bond with Jim's soul that gave him immortality. The cost of living so long had sucked every ounce of humanity in him. On the run, wanted by everyone. He had buried the guns once and for all. Drifting from town to town for years afterward. Left for dead till a sweet junior student nurse had found him clinging to life in the streets.
Looking away from his son to the hole. "You won't make it in Capital City on your own. The city is corrupt, it traps the people in chains of addictions. You are too good a person. They will eat you alive."
"I can take care of myself." Feeling the anger rise in the back of his neck.
Jim looked at his son dead in the eyes. Sweat glistening his chalky face.
"You need what's in the box. Only way. It will show you the way. You have a strong heart. The box will also show you the brute animal I was before you and your mom."
"I'm strong enough to go look for my sister."
Trembling with a sickly smile. "I'm sorry. I truly am. Go open the box."
Jack stood up slowly. Leaving a broken old man on the dusty floor. "I don't know you". He thought to himself. The strong rancher that had raised him to be as tough and stronger than any other man lay fallen apart in the dirt. Jim raised him to be tough yet gentle and kind. A whole man.
Jack tossed the heavy chained steel box out of the hole. "I will need a torch to open this dumb thing."
"Pull it apart with your hands. If what is inside is meant to be, they will let you in."
“They?” Whipping the sweat and dirt out of his face, running his dirty hands over the old steel. Heavy thick links welded into the heavy riveted box. Jack scanned the box for a weak spot. None to be found.
"Pull it apart, like a loaf of bread."
His dad had gone mad. Nothing would let him into this box. Not without a lot of aggravation and a heavy blow-torch. What could be in here that could help him get his sister back?
The steel no longer felt cool, it was soft and warm. Tingling in his fingers. He wasn't afraid, or scared. Somehow, whatever was inside belonged to him. He felt it always had, calling to him.
He never heard his dad yelling at him. Only a need to open the box. Take what was his. Jack's muscles swelled. Griping the links, grunting with brute strength. The steel split with a shrieking, tearing sound. Metal scratching on metal.
Stumbling back. Jim watched in agony as his son gazed down into the box. Reaching in, Jack ran his hands over the cold weapons. His hands gently brushed off the dust.
Jack looked up at his dad with cold unblinking eye's "I understand Jim. All of it. They are a part of me now. They belong to me. Mine. I'm leaving to go get my sister."
“God help us all." mumbled Jim.