“Well, Cal.” Teddy Rennick offered his hand, “I’ll see you when you got that gun on your hip. You and me will both be back in time for the Summer Solstice. You know what happens then…” He jabbed at Cal’s side with his elbow, shooting a mischievous look.

  Cal’s eyes shot aside, a smile spreading involuntarily.

  “Yeah you know!” Teddy broke into laughter.

  “What happens then?” Another voice took them by surprise.

  “Fuck!” Teddy jumped. He turned his head, glaring at their fellow student who had approached. He adjusted his hat. “You sneak up on me when I get my gun and I might accidentally shoot you, Eugene.”

  Eugene, a dark-skinned young Gun in their class, looked to him somberly. “I wouldn’t joke about that, man..”

  “You’re so serious!” Teddy grinned, “If looks could pull the trigger, you’d have shot me dead ten times!”

  Eugene, ever the straight arrow, didn’t find any humor in that sort of talk, “Alright, whatever, so what did you guys mean about the solstice?” He raised an eyebrow. “Something going on?”

  “Yes, actually!” Teddy plopped his elbow onto Eugene’s shoulder, jeering at him smugly, “But this kind of info will cost ya.”

  “The Solstice is when we go to make a pact with the Coven.” Cal cut through Teddy’s game.

  Eugene blinked, “I always wondered when we were supposed to make a pact. Miss Alice never told us.”

  “You gotta tease it out of the older Guns when they start drinkin’.” Teddy snickered. “A few shots of Rambler and they’ll tell you anything.”

  Rambler 119, the whiskey drink of choice for Six-Guns of the Smoky Mountain Sanctuary, was made by the Plaidshirts in Tennessee. They had a distillery tucked away in the woods. During Prohibition times, Rambler 119 had to be made in a mobile still which moved back and forth through the hills and woods to evade law enforcement. By Cal’s sixteenth birthday, in 1938, the distillery had planted its roots in East Tennessee. Six-Guns from all over the country came to Appalachia for some of the potent 119-proof liquor. It wasn’t just flavorful alcohol, the Plaidshirts made it specifically to help aid their Guns. A mix of meticulously selected plants were added to the mash, giving it useful alchemical properties. It helped Guns recuperate mentally from a fight when taken after the job was done. When drank in preparation for a hunt, it could improve concentration, leading to stronger and more stable resolve. Naturally, the alcohol removed some inhibitions, helping the Six-Gun think on his feet in hairy circumstances. It also loosened his tongue, as Teddy had discovered first-hand.

  “That 8 of Hearts, I think they call him Wings…” Teddy recalled, his jaw cocked, “He says that when a Gun turns sixteen, gets his pistol, he goes to a Coven during the next Solstice event. That’s when the witches pass their own trials, he says. We get to partner up then.”

  “Lots of Guns and their witches go steady..” Cal’s eyes gleamed with excitement, “Lots even end up together their whole lives. Louey and Madeline have kids together! Imagine having a pretty witch with you, and you get to spend all your life traveling together and going on hunts! Sounds like a dream, you ask me.”

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  As Calvin got older, he gained the poisonous knowledge of his situation. His mother, who had for years checked out of his life emotionally, was gone. His father, who left him for this life as a Gun, never once bothered to stop by and check up on his son’s progress. Cal wondered if he even knew he was also a member of Grady’s Posse. Lou Cobb, who had looked after him in his own way, had been away almost the entire time Calvin lived in the Smokies. Teddy and Eugene were fellows, decent friends on the same journey, but they were not family. At the end of the day Calvin Baird had nobody truly close to him. When he was a child, he had difficulty processing this concept, leaving him unconscious to it. With each passing year Calvin felt more and more isolated, more and more like he didn’t matter to anybody. The purpose and belonging that came with his new life as an aspiring Six-Gun had been the saving grace for Calvin. Despite his feelings, he was a member of something much bigger than him. There were Plaidshirts aplenty who helped him find his way, and Six-Guns who would show him what kind of man he was meant to be, what role he would play on the grand stage of life.

  That sinking feeling remained, however; it only seeped deeper into him as he developed into a young man. Girls started to look different in his eye, he found himself looking more and more at the Plaid-shirted women wrangling horses in the yards, or the ones in the workshops repairing chairs and crates. Though these were often much older women, and quite a few very masculine for the times, it didn’t matter. They were ladies all the same, they had all the equipment which came standard on every woman. Equipment which, as every day passed, became more and more interesting to Calvin Baird.

  In addition to the Plaidshirt women, there was an occasional witch on the grounds. Usually Green Coven witches, they followed around their Guns on the premises. There were those who worked in the laboratory too, developing new aids for the Six-Guns. Calvin saw them as the ultimate avatars of femininity. Their black attire playfully emphasized their features, fashion which had only recently punctured his consciousness, and their shining hair was always perfect to him. He knew it smelled delicious too, he caught the scent whenever one passed close. Most of all their eyes, each set the color of Lavender flowers, had enchanted him. He wondered what process resulted in this appearance in their eyes, some spell or incantation that turned them violet. Regardless, he found them addictive to look at. Unlike the working women in plaid, who dressed appropriately for their job, the witches took joy in maintaining a beautiful appearance. They weren’t just pretty either. Beneath the surface, he could see the shifting winds of their temper. Unbelievable power stirred restlessly within them, and Calvin couldn’t help being struck by the majesty of it. Green Coven witches had a way about them that shot straight into Cal’s chest, making him feel heavy and weak. The idea that he would partner up with one of these dream-like creatures made him both deeply excited and oppressively anxious.

  “Well, ain’t you just a mushy cow puncher…” Teddy snickered. He never let an opportunity to rib his friends pass by.

  “I’m gonna punch YOU!” Cal glared.

  “So wait,” Eugene tapped his chin, “The Solstice is when we make pacts with witches?”

  Teddy had his fists raised, dipping and jabbing at the air as he mocked a boxer facing Cal. “Yup, that’s what Wings says. Gotta turn sixteen first, though, get your wheel.”

  “I Suppose that makes sense. The Solstice is when they have the best magical sensitivity, right? Seems like a right time to make their choice.”

  “I think you’re thinkin’ too hard again, Eugene.” Teddy mock-punched Cal in the side.

  “Either way, you guys can go next month, then. You excited?”

  “Hell yeah I’m excited!” Teddy straightened out, “You ever seen them floatin’ round here? They’re God-damned beauties! Getting one assigned to you, talk about a jackpot!”

  “You really do have the worst mouth.” Cal looked at him flatly.