Six Gun Fury: Blood in the Dust

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SIX GUN FURYBLOOD IN THE DUST

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CHAPTER 1: THE DOUBLE D RANCH

The wind was blowin' hard and hot as Milt Dale finished up for the day, dust and grime covering his clothes, his hat, his horse. The sun had just about baked he and the other Double D boys through today, so it was a welcome sight when that fat, blazing orange ball in the sky finally headed for the horizon.

It was September and unseasonably hot, the kind of day where the longhorns didn't much feel like movin'. The scorched prairie still had enough tallgrass in the north fields for the cows to feed, but the ranch's owner, one Preacher Daniels, was concerned about the beasts over-grazin'. Milt didn't listen too hard to his pious and righteous employer, and for all the black man's concern about enough grass to eat, he trusted his foreman.

Young Casey Lee Daws come up on Milt's flank as they rode back towards the ranch, grinnin' like a fool. Casey was wiry strong and good with a rope, but not so good at thinkin' things through or holdin' his tongue in certain company. On the other side rode Preacher's son, Ezra. The boy was more approachable than his father and had picked up ranchin' quick, but he had some of his old man's indignation but less idea of what to do with it.

The sun is almost down as the lit-up domiciles come into sight, Preacher's house and then the hands' dorm, which was more of a barn than anything. Casey spits and finally gets out why he's grinnin'.

"Y'all recall that whore up in Mason Hollow, with the freckles? She's a two dollar whore. Real class act."

When neither man answered right away, the young hand blurted it right out. "And guess who saved hisself two goddamned dollars this month?!"

Ezra rides easy beside Milt, and he doesn't look at Daws as he responds to him.

"Just make sure Preacher don't hear you talk like that, Casey. He'll run you right off the Double D, you know it."

Casey makes a noise like he's taken an arrow, but he's still smilin'.

"C'mon now, I'll keep it all quiet, Erza, now you know I will. I'm not some dope who can't keep this trap shut when he needs to! 'Sides, what I'm really askin' is if I can go into town with Mr. Milt here. I know we need lamp oil and salt, lead and cartridges and such. I just thought maybe I'd tag along. You know. With my two dollars."

"Well shit! Well all right, all right," Casey says with some excitement, nodding and grinning.

"I'll behave, Mr. Milt, you know I will! And I know old Preacher's all proper-like, god-fearin' 'an all that. I know."

As Dale looks at Ezra, trying to suss the younger Daniels's feelings on the matter, he sees that, as usual, the boy isn't too hard to read.

"You take him with, Milt, just keep an eye on him. Preacher'll hold you to account for him and his capers, you know that."

Daws flinches like he's been struck, playing at almost falling from his saddle.

"Hurtful words, Ezra! I'm gonna steer clear of the saloon and everything! I'm just goin' to help Mr. Milt with the supplies!" He then winks at his friend, adding, "And you know, make myself a two dollar deposit. Yup."

As they ride towards the barn and enjoy the smell of something cooking from the main house, Daniels catches Milt's eye.

"Let me know if you want a hand up there," he offers, and it's not one the boy should make easily. Mason's Hollow is a rough place, and isn't exactly the friendliest corner of the west to negroes or Indians. Some shady characters are known to move through town with some frequency, and quite a number of the locals aren't too happy with the Double D bein' run by Preacher Daniel and his clan.

Marshal Meriweather generally keeps a lid on things, but he ain't around as much as he needs to be. He has to cover a lot of ground in the Territory, and Mason's Hollow has grown significantly these last few years. So much so that the town's now elected their own Sheriff -- Waylon Clegg. The man's a menace as far as Milt is concerned, and his commission ain't worth the paper it's printed it on, but fact is he's now someone that now has to be navigated during these trips to town.

Ezra changes the subject.

"You heard the Federals opened up more land for homesteaders, up north of Broken Bluff?"

"S'right," the dark-skinned man says as they arrive at the barn and he dismounts.

As he leads his horse inside to look after it, Casey breaks in.

"So y'all Know what I heard 'bout that? Fuckin' Silas Van Doren is the one who went to the Federals to get more land opened up. For his ranch! He's gonna be pissed if Washington's just sendin' a bunch of new settlers!"

None of this was good news, neither the Kiowa getting displaced again or Van Doren's involvement. He'd already forced a re-survey of Preacher's ranch, trying to grab some of his pasture on the east side. The man was a land baron in the making, and didn't seem to care too much about laws and facts.

Dinner and evenin' chores come and go, and it's two hot days later when the trio of Double D hands fix to set out towards the town of Mason Hollow.

Ezra's mother fusses as the boy sits astride his horse, undeterred by her worrying. "Ezra now you hold your tongue when you need to! Mr. Dale, you've got to watch over my boy, please! Sometimes he doesn't know when to leave well enough alone!"

The young man sighs a little. "I'll be fine, ma. We'll all be fine. The Hollow's got a Sheriff now, I hear, so I expect it's calmed down a little."

"We'll look after him, Mrs. Daniels, you know we will!" Casey says ironically. "Your boy does got a big trap sometimes, but Mr. Milt here and I, we's up to the challenge! We'll have everything squared away, ma'am!"

Preacher is standing near Milt, ignoring most of the banter and his wife's concerns. "Good Lord go with and smile on you, Milt. Get business done quick, then get back here by dark if you can. Still got the two steers missing, and we're gonna need your help tomorrow to find them if they don't turn up today."

The older man's eyes drift to his son for a moment, then he adds, quieter, "And do be careful there with that new Sheriff. Clegg can be an unkind man at times, and you know he got no love for Indians, Chinese, or the black man. Nor for a white man who would work for one. Sometimes I wonder if that man knows the war's done."