April, 1935

  The bleakness of Oklahoma stretched out before Tornado Joe as he stepped out of the taxicab, onto the dust-covered street. He looked to the horizon and all was grey. The land of amber grain and lush green was only a memory in these times. Those memories of better days blew away on the wind, with the dust. They left only dirt and hardness behind.

  “It’s getting worse.” Lou Cobb stepped out of the other door.

  The taxi driver leaned out the window, earning the attention of the two Six-Guns. “You gunmen better be careful. It’s apt to be another storm come in this afternoon. You don’t wanna be in Seekson when it hits. Bad things happen in the dust here, fair warnin’ to you both.”

  “Bad things?” Lou shot him a look.

  “Yessir. This town belongs to the Yellowmen. They take people into the fields when it storms. Never see ‘em again. Kill ‘em, I reckon. Give ‘em to something yellow.”

  Lou turned back to Joe. The two exchanged a knowing look.

  Joe shot a smirk at the cabby. “Good to know. I hope we don’t get caught in the storm. Have a nice day, sir.”

  The cab driver shrank back into his car and rolled up the window. Joe stepped along the dirty main road with Lou as the taxi sped away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Rickety wooden buildings lined either side of the street.

  Seekson, Oklahoma was officially classified as a township, but the word ‘town’ conferred an expectation which Seekson did not measure up to. The set of ramshackle wooden buildings placed along the main road was hardly more than a gasoline stop for travelers. Just a few years ago, Seekson was a bustling place for the nearby farmers to sell their crops. No crops had grown in this part of the state for getting on two years, which left Seekson in the dust.

  “I’m already tired of this shit.” Joe futilely wiped the dirt from his poncho. “How’s a guy stay clean in these conditions?”

  “You just accept it, like these people here.” Lou gestured to the loose crowd of filthy townspeople who had come out of the buildings to gawk at the Six-Guns.

  A skinny man in tattered coveralls jeered at them. “Where’s your pretty witches, Six-Guns? Could show ‘em a good time…”

  Joe had to chuckle. “Not here, and you’re lucky for it. They hear talk like that and you might find some body parts missing.”

  The two gunslingers continued their slow, measured steps down the street. Winds blew their ponchos about. Lou’s gaze wandered to the sun-bleached and sandblasted wooden facades of a barbershop, an eatery, a shoe-maker, and a general store. All of these were defunct relics of prosperous times.

  “The Yellermen are gonna get you boys!” cackled an elderly man on a withering rocking chair outside the shoe-maker’s store. “You ain’t gonna see another sun-up, hehe!”

  Lou stopped. “The influence of the Yellow Cult is all over this place, Joe. Look to the buildings.”

  Tornado Joe fixed his eyes on the facades, noting intricate twisting patterns crudely carved into the wood. Some of these buildings appeared to be splashed in a yellow paint. Joe didn’t know as much about the Yellow Cult as his companion, but he was starting to see how its adherents marked their territory.

  Lou Cobb, the wizened elder of the two, felt he had to turn Joe’s attention away from the provocation. While he respected Joe enough to enlist him for this effort, he understood that Tornado Joe was a prime Diamond cardholder. He was always ready for a fight. Unleashing Joe at the right moment was most important to Louey.

  “Remember, we are here to learn about the cult. We can’t learn anything valuable if we torch everything.” Louey told him.

  “We can torch it after we get our information, though. Right?”

  “I’m afraid not. But I’m not opposed to a little threat neutralization.”

  Joe grinned, “I’ll take it. How bout a drink first.” He nodded to the building marked ‘Bar – Hot Meals.’

  “Sounds like a plan. All this grittiness really makes a guy thirsty.”

  The doors to the bar flew open, revealing the silhouettes of the two Six-Guns to the inside. They cast long shadows reaching deep into the bar. There were not many people patronizing the establishment at this time, so the bartender looked to them from where she stood.

  She was a homely young lady, with heavy eyes, taking a feather duster to the bar counter. Watching the two men come in, she couldn’t help but notice gleaming pistols on their hips. The constant torrent of dust had robbed the town of any luster, so these pistols were the shiniest things she had seen in a while.

  “Tyler, get the black label.” She told the little boy sitting on the bar. The boy hopped down and shuffled across the room as the two gunslingers made their way to the counter.

  “You read my mind.” Tornado Joe leaned on the bar, shooting her a swarthy grin.

  Her cheeks flushed at the attention of the handsome cowboy-dressed man. Little Tyler brought her a bottle of whiskey with a black and silver label. She set the glasses down and poured two fingers in each. She then bowed her head. “Sirs.”

  Lou took the glass and swirled it around. There were a few little grits of sand at the bottom of the amber liquid. His eyes wandered to Tornado Joe, noticing a string tied around his neck with a spine attached. It was white like a bone, with a distinct point.

  “What’s that?” He poked at it.

  Joe batted his hand away, “That’s my new necklace Winny made for me. She had picked up on of the spines from the Skinwalker back in Richmond and put it on a good string. I like it. She calls it my Porcupine necklace, says that I’m prickly like a porcupine. Go figure.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Tell me,” He drank from the glass anyway, “How’s things with Winona? She seems like a sweetheart.”

  Joe nodded, “It’s tough sometimes. She’s… a lot. She is very territorial, she gets really angry at times and stays loving other times. She’s got a screw loose or something. I love her, but I wonder sometimes.”

  “Well,” Lou sighed, “They’re witches. They need to feel things, chase the magic they make in their hearts, is what they say. What do you wonder?”

  “I wonder if I have been love-hexed.” He shot a sharp glance towards Lou.

  The elder Gun didn’t return the look. He simply drank again. Clearing his throat, he spoke firmly, “And who told you they do that?”

  “Some of the guys, they talk about it sometimes.”

  “Well, they also talk about catching thirty-foot smallmouth in the lakes. Have you ever seen any real evidence of the ladies hexing us?”

  Joe rubbed his neck, “Nah, it ain’t like that…”

  “You know that such a thing would break our Pact. This is not a frivolous accusation, Joseph.”

  “I get you.” Joe stared at his glass, “I’m just thinking out loud.”

  Louey laughed, patting him firmly on the back. “Here’s what I’ll tell you, Tornado Joe. I have been married to Madeline for getting on 20 years. We have a daughter, my sunshine. My witch picked me up, a lonely broken boy, and I wake up a happy man every morning since. If I found out today that Maddy hexed me into loving her, I would thank her for it.”

  With a deep sigh, Joe rolled Louey’s words around in his head for a moment. He picked up his glass and downed some of the liquor. Winona’s love was a blessing, even if it took a lot of work to maintain. He thought of the time she had selected him. Winona had been the last of the girlies in the Green Coven that day, and Joe had been uncharacteristically late to the Solstice event. His teacher, who had only him for a pupil, hadn’t considered the witches to be a priority. Little Joe had to beg Billy Baird to let him go and make a pact before it was too late. He had even put on his best clothes. In the end he found Winona there all alone, still holding out for someone to pick. The look on her face as he approached was unforgettable, pure joy. Joe smiled wider, wishing she was here with them. He would kiss her if she was.

  “I guess I would too…” He shook his head. “How is your daughter anyhow? What’s she, ten now?”

  “Leanne turned eleven in January.” Lou nodded, “I wish I was there to celebrate her birthday.”

  Joe raised his eyebrow, “That’s right, you said a while ago you wanted to send her off to California.”

  “The Redwood Sanctuary. She wants to be a Six-Gun so bad. I just don’t have the heart to say no, she has Maddy’s pretty eyes. The guys over at Redwood say they are getting the hang of teaching Resolve to girls. I’m all for it, they’re good over there. She’s even been learning from some lady Guns.”

  “That’s great. California is away from all this shit.” Joe took another sip

  “What the dust? They get some of it.”

  “You know what I mean, Cobb.” Joe’s eyes were fixed on him.

  “Yes, I know what you mean.” Lou sighed, “And yes, California is far from the troubles we been having.”

  Joe snorted, “Troubles! It’s a damned war is what it is. Those traitors spit on Grady’s name.”

  “Quiet about that.” Lou nudged him as the bartender stepped over.

  “Excuse me…” The barkeep pursed her lips, “But are you two of them magic gunslingers?”

  “Yes.” Lou nodded, “We are two of them. That alright?”

  “Well, it’s just, this town. Misters, it’s gotten real bad since all the crops died. There’s Yellowmen everywhere.” Her eyes held the terror of the Yellow Cult.

  “Tell us about it. Tell us about the Yellowmen.”

  “The church, they started talkin’ about their Yellow King in there. I ain’t heard of no king. I don’t understand what’s so great about the color Yellow, neither. They took over the church, askin’ everyone to join. We call ‘em Yellowmen, on account of they like to wear yellow.”

  “Did people join the church… become Yellowmen?” Louey kept a gentle tone with her.

  “Most of the town joined up, started praying to the Yellow King. Then Geld came.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow, “Geld?”

  She nodded, “Geld, he’s an angel from the Yellow King. I ain’t never seen him, but he talks to Paster Whitman. The Pastor says Geld can help us, but he needs stuff in exchange. They bring people to Geld. I don’t know what happens to them.” She started to tremble. “I’m afraid, Gradymen. I think we need help…”

  “That’s why we came here, miss.” Louey pat her arm, “You’re brave to tell us this stuff. I want you to lock up, I’m gonna see about this Geld.”

  The barkeep nodded. “You can have the drinks for free, misters. Please, I’m scared they’ll come get me and Tyler.”

  Louey gave her a smile and turned from the bar counter. Joe was already at the door, silent. He let a card-carrying Heart talk to the people. Joe was far more concerned with the hunt. The thick boots clunked on the dusty floorboards, spurs tinkling in an otherwise quiet barroom.

  Stepping out into the sunlit street, Joe turned to Louey. “I think I get it. You took on Baird’s kid cause you miss Leanne.” He snickered. “Classic.”

  “I wouldn’t say I took him on.” Louey followed him out into the road. “He still lives in the bunkhouse. I just see him sometimes, help him. I didn’t adopt him.”

  Joe shook his head, “Madeline didn’t have anything to say about that? You’d think she would want an orphan to have somebody.”

  “The mark, Joe. Madeline can hardly stand to be near him. This is for the best. He’s a tough kid, he will pull through while we find a way to remove the mark. Then maybe he can stay with me and Madeline. Though, I been waiting for Billy to come and get him.” Louey sighed, “I don’t know why he’s not coming to help us with this. Bet he’d have already figured it all out.”

  “That’s easy.” Joe snorted, “I could’ve told you why.”

  “Enlighten me, Tornado Joe.” The elder Gun shot him a glance.

  Looking down, Joe studied the dust blowing around his boots, “The mark of some unknowable being could mean a lot of power, a lot of potential. It’s not in Baird’s nature to toss that stuff away. He’d wanna see where it goes, what can be made of it. He might even want to provoke it.”

  The two stood in silence for a moment.

  Joe lifted his gaze again to meet Louey, “Baird isn’t the right man for the job, if the job is to clear away the kid’s mark.”

  It was then that Lou noticed the wall of dust approaching on the Western horizon. Dust storms like these could be seen from miles away, and they often moved very slow. The sight of them left a slow crawling dread in Louey’s chest. He hated to look upon it. The church was to the East, he preferred to put his back to the coming storm.

  “Listen, Joe.” Louey reached into his satchel, “I think we may be dealing with something a little heftier than a few cultists. Let’s load these up into our wheels.”

  He withdrew a paper box marked with a lotus flower, tied up with a string. The brown paper proudly displayed the words ‘.458 Comet – Lotus – Pigeon Forge TN.’

  Joe raised an eyebrow, “Lotus Rounds? You ain’t playing around.”

  The Lotus Round was a particularly malicious invention of the Plaidshirt gunsmiths, aimed at severing the magical pathways in the body while destroying the flesh. The projectile was milled with divots designed to make it fan out when it impacted. The flowering impact damaged a large area of tissue, and the ‘pedals’ of the Lotus Round often scattered with the force, covering an even larger area. Furthermore, the projectile of the Lotus Round was constructed with Mercury in the fragments. Among the many metals which were destructive to the magical current, Mercury had the right balance of effectiveness and ease of procurement for the Posse. There were better substances for the task, but Mercury never underperformed within the Lotus Round.

  Both Guns ejected the standard jacketed ‘Beefeater’ Comet Rounds in their pistols and slotted in the Lotus rounds. Lou kissed one of the brass-cased rounds before sliding it into the cylinder, a superstitious practice he inherited from the Cobbs before him. Both of them loaded the rest of the rounds into rings along their gun belts.

  “I’d hate to be on the other end of those.” Joe slid the pistol into its holster.