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The Gunslinger’s Apprentice
Dusty feathers rustled in the wind as a vulture circled above the red canyon. Its Black Death shadow in the bright blue sky confirmed the rider’s suspicions. He sighed as he dismounted. He knew there would be a dead end around the corner and the two riders that had been on his trail for the past two days were too close now for him to set up an ambush. He would have to risk an open confrontation.
He traced the initials on his saddle before strapping the gun belt on. The weight of the revolvers on his person felt right. He felt complete again. They were also a big part of his reputation as a gunslinger. “Lightning Jack” was what most folks called him. To those that mattered he was just plain, old, Jack Horton. He pulled the brim of his black Stetson lower to shield his eyes from the scorching sun as he watched the two riders approach.
Born into a large family, Jack was mostly ignored as a child. His only saving grace was that he was a good shot with the Winchester when it came to protecting his father’s cattle from rustlers. About five months ago Bill Murphy, or “Evil Eye Murphy” as he was more widely known, came for the farm with his pack of raiders. It seemed that he was getting into the real estate business the wrong way. He was hired by a developer to convince certain families to sell their land to him and move on. Unfortunately Bill misunderstood what the job entailed and went about killing all the livestock and burning the buildings to the ground with the families still inside. With no one left the developer claimed the land for himself. If Jack hadn’t been getting his leg seen to by Redville’s doctor then he wouldn’t have been alive today.
Ever since he came home to seven shallow graves and a desolate patch of ash he had been hunting Murphy’s gang down and making his living as a gun for hire. Jack took a much-needed swig of water from his canteen before walking over to meet the pair. The desert had not been too favourable a place to travel in these last two days and the normally black leather clad rider looked like a red ghost. He patted his horse Thunder to reassure him that these riders were nothing to worry about.
The chestnut steeds walked calmly into the dead end canyon. Both men looked like they had lived out in the wilderness for some time. The younger one of the two had the scraps of a beard. Jack reckoned that he still had a ways to go before he became a man. The cold piercing eyes in both their faces made Jack think of them as father and son. The larger rider spoke.
“I take it you’re Lightning Jack?”
Jack nodded still trying to make out the faces of his pursuers. “I am. You with Murphy?”
Now it was the stranger’s turn to nod. “When it suits my purposes. I expected you to be a bit taller.”
“Maybe if you get off your horse you’ll find I’m plenty tall. Who’s the loud one?”
The silent partner looked to his riding buddy who shook his head. ‘They must be close if they can talk without speaking.’ The more talkative of the two jumped down and handed the reigns to the smaller rider.
“My name is John Cradle and this here is my son but he don’t concern you none. This here business is between you, me and the beauties by our sides.” John pulled his coat back slightly to reveal two silver revolvers with ivory handles. They gleamed in the sunlight. Jack admired the weapons. That name rang a bell with him though.
“You’re the Cradle? As in the legendary gunfighter that bandits’ moms warn them about at night. ‘Watch who you pick a fight with or Cradle will put you in your grave.’ That John Cradle?”
John gave an appreciative smile. He liked the recognition.
“Sure. I heard of you. What brings you to these parts though? I didn’t expect you to be running with a common bunch of thugs like Murphy’s lot. There must be a good reason. So why are you running with Bill’s crowd?”
Cradle dipped his head as if he were a little ashamed of being associated with the man in the same sentence. “Blood is the reason I’m with Bill. He’s my uncle on my mother’s side. It’s been a wild ride I can tell you. I’m not much of a pillage and burn kind of a guy. I let the morons handle that. It’s the warriors that I am after. I learned from my father that it was not right for a warrior to die sleeping so a couple of days before the big take over I call the best fighters out to die. Man, woman, child, I do not discriminate. All who wish to try get a chance but it is still me against them. As you can clearly see I have not been beaten. I did to them what I intend to do to you. I gave them an honourable death.”
Jack had never come across something like this man before. Out here in the wilderness it was kill or be killed. This man was different he believed in something. He didn’t kill for killings sake and he made sure it was a fair fight. To him death had a purpose and because of that he didn’t fear it. Suddenly Jack was not so sure of his chances anymore. He put on a brave front nonetheless, “That’s a nice little notion you have there. Problem is that nice gets you nothing but a dirt covered box in these parts.”
Cradle gave a little smile as if he expected the response. Jack’s blood was starting to boil. “You can wipe that smile off your face and all. I know it was you that killed my father. I saw the body and it was a clean shot, not something Bill’s usual thugs could manage.”
John looked at his son with an angry expression. The boy shrugged his shoulders in return and showed his father the palms of his hands. John’s expression changed from one of anger to one of understanding and pity. “My my it seems I underestimated your need for vengeance. You must have been very close to your father indeed. It will be an honour duelling with you. If its any consolation he wasn’t a bad man. Knew how to handle a gun. He even got a shot off before he stopped breathing. Not many have been able to do that.”
Jack’s jaw was set now. “Shall we do this then?”
John shook his head, “Not so fast. I want you to have a fitting death and there are certain traditions I follow. Your father understood. I’m sure you won’t begrudge me them either. You know a part of me actually regrets killing him.”
Horton’s throat suddenly became very dry again, “Get on with it. Name your terms.”
Cradle took his hat off and dusted it a bit before fixing it firmly back on. He carefully took one of his revolvers from its holster. Jack tensed, keeping one hand near his gun, waiting for a trick. John ignored him and handed the gun over with reverence.
“This is Tucana. It is one of the finest guns in existence and is only fit to be handled by the greatest of warriors. This gun, along with its twin, has slain many fine warriors in its time. It was originally a general’s gun that was claimed as spoils of war by a Comanche chief. He had the gun blessed by the tribe’s shaman ensuring that its mark would always be true in the right hands. My grandfather fought in a great battle and killed the chieftain in a duel similar to what you and I are going to do. With his dying words the chieftain told my grandfather a great secret.
A warrior’s paradise awaits whomever is killed by this gun. Have you ever heard of Lagueno? From the bewildered look on your face I see you haven’t. Needless to say it is a place I would like to find myself someday, but that day will only come when I am slain by the gun that killed my forefathers in battle. I have fought to keep these guns in my family and I hope my son will earn them someday as well when I am gone. That is why I ask that you use this when we duel. I will have the other gun of the set, Sukal. They are both equally blessed so it is really a win win situation. Will you do this for me?”
Jack now wondered if he was talking to a whack job or if he was getting into something bigger then he could have imagined. In a place like this he was betting on the first. “I accept but I want your boy out of the way. I do not want him shooting me when my focus is on the fight.”
John waved his hand dismissing the idea. “The boy follows the same principles as me. He will not disturb us.”
“All right then.” Jack stored one of his revolvers in his saddlebag. He hefted the sacred gun in his left hand. It felt good. He smoothly slid it into the left holster. It felt as if it had always belonged there. He smiled actually looking forward to the fight just to see how she handled. “Twenty paces?”
John nodded. “That’s fine with me.”
Jack squared up to him. “You ready to meet your father?”
Cradle wore a stony expression as he met Jack’s gaze. “More than you will ever know.”
“Start walking then.” Jack called up to the boy “If you’re going to stick around then make yourself useful and count.”
The boy got the horses out of the way and counted, watching as the two carefully tread the paths of their destinies in the sand. “Nineteen, twenty. TURN.” Both men turned to face each other, arms at their sides, fingers itching and twitching every now and then. Beads of sweat trickled down their faces as they stared at each other. Their intense gazes scrutinising every movement, watching for the tell tale signs of who was ready to make the first move. A fly buzzed around Jack’s ear. He hardly noticed it. Both men dared not move a muscle as they fought on the mental plain. The vulture flew nearer and gave out an ugly call. John gave the briefest of glances in its direction.
“BANG.” The loud, sharp crack of the shot echoed far across the red land. Jack became taller in John’s eyes as he sank to his knees. He had pulled Sukal out of the holster and the trigger was half pulled but it was Tucana’s voice that had sung the loudest that day. Her cold metal kiss pierced John’s heart. She was calling him home. Home to Lagueno. Darkness took him and his dead eyes lay open as he fell to the desert floor with a small smile on his face.
Jack walked over to Cradle and closed them. He solemnly took Sukal from John’s hand. His skin was already cooling. A shadow fell across the body. It was the boy. “My name is Jacob. Under my traditions I am now in your service. I humbly request that you give my father a proper burial and take me as your pupil.”
Jack was taken aback at what had just been said. “Look kid. I ain’t a preacher, teacher and I sure as hell ain’t no baby sitter.”
The boy just looked at him. Jack was no saint but he had some degree of honour. He sighed. “You keep out of my way. We’ll bury him but I’m not saying anything for him. After he’s underground we’ll see where we go from there.”
The boy nodded. In exchange I promise not to kill you.”
Jack laughed despite the situation “You have a sense of humour kid. That’s a start at least. Come on lets get this done.” The boy produced a shovel and gave it to the gunslinger. An idea suddenly came to Jack. “It was you that buried my father wasn’t it?” The boy said nothing. “It was a shallow grave. I dug him up to see for myself. I couldn’t believe he was dead. I thank you for burying him.”
They kept digging in silence. After a while Jack asked the question that had been hovering in the air the moment they had started digging. “Ain’t you sad?”
The boy looked confused, “Why should I be sad? My father is in paradise. He is having a much better time then us.” Jack said nothing more until Cradle was in his grave.
The sky was ablaze as the two rode off. Jack looked over at the kid. Jacob rode with his head high and no sign of emotion on his stony face. He would make a great warrior, maybe even the best someday. “It’s not going to be easy kid. This path you have chosen.”
Jacob wore a serious look on his face. “I have shed my tears for this life. My only purpose now is to shepherd honourable warriors into the afterlife. I have much to learn I know, but I also know that I am ready to follow in my father’s footprints.”
Silence dominated the rest of their journey into town. Jack started to realise that maybe there was something more to this life then revenge. He knew he would need something to hold onto after he had killed the rest of Evil Eye Murphy’s brood and since he knew he couldn’t cut it as a farmer he would have to keep living as a hired gun. Maybe learning the spiritual ways of the gunslinger from the kid and teaching the physical ways of gunplay to the kid would keep him going. As the stars started to shine in the pitch black sky Jack felt something that he hadn’t known in a long time. Hope.
