Lou Cobb looked around Foreman Rand’s office, eyes traveling curiously over the trophies on the walls. The Deadeye was one to pull pieces from creatures he had shot. There were heads of various Corrupted animals, as well as the hats of three Guns who had broken their oaths and were brought to justice. His crowning piece was a small strip of brown fur stretched over a piece of leather in the shape of a diamond, denoting the previous suit associated with Rand, before his ascension to a Spade. It was framed, hung on the wall above Rand’s seat behind the desk.

  “What’s that one, again?” Lou asked, leaning back in the chair across from the desk.

  “Which one?” The Foreman was looking away, fixing two short glasses of whiskey. He poured each glass three fingers high and fished a large ice cube from a bucket to place in each.

  “The fur diamond on the wall, Rand.”

  Deadeye Rand turned to him, a glass in each hand. He offered Lou one of them, which he took. Stepping to his desk, Rand looked to the trophy. He sat down and sipped from his glass.

  Lou sipped his as well, smacking his lips. “Not Rambler?”

  “It’s Pitchard.” Rand cleared his throat, “From the boys out in Amarillo. This is their top shelf selection. I got a friend out there, thought you’d like to have some.”

  “When you’re right, you’re right.” Lou tilted his head back a bit, letting the flavors pass through his throat. “It’s good stuff.”

  “About that trophy, though. That’s fur from a Skunk Ape.” Rand looked at him again.

  Lou, having closed his eyes to enjoy the whiskey, opened them once again. At his age he thought nothing could surprise him, yet at this moment he felt a chill creep up his back.

  “You actually killed a Skunk Ape?”

  “I did.” Rand stared him down, “The Skunk Ape named Sahalartho. Down in Florida, near Okeechobee.”

  Louey leaned forward, even more shocked than before, “You fired your gun in the Everglades?”

  “Naw, naw… Not there. North side of Okeechobee. Sahalartho challenged me to what the Skunk Apes call the Blood Struggle.” Rand sighed, looking at his hands, “That was the toughest ordeal of my life. If I hadn’t kept my head, I could have lost my life at any moment. I have never had a fight like that since. I dropped him in the end, obviously. I’m here, so that’s how it went.”

  Rand snatched his glass and sipped again, “That’s when I got my Spade card. Now, did you just wanna get me tipsy, telling stories? Or did you come to see me for a reason, Cobb?”

  “Can’t two Guns hang loose on a Wednesday afternoon?” Lou sipped from his glass as well.

  Rand shook his head with a snort, “Look you know you’re welcome here anytime, but you tend to stay all business with me.”

  “It’s Calvin Baird.” Lou placed the glass on Rand’s desk, which was more a chunk of twisted mahogany than a traditional desk. Another trophy in itself. “He’s sixteen today.”

  The Foreman took a long sip from his glass, finishing off the liquid inside. Holding the glass to him, he set his eyes yet again on his brother Gun. A long moment of silence followed, the air pregnant with intent. The two were in a duel, which would result in no pistols drawn, but a duel, nonetheless. Rand licked his teeth.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Well… He is. Remind me of our agreement, Cobb.” He cocked his head to the left, his hat brim jutting to an aggressive slope.

  “We agreed that you would raise him here unharmed as a Six-Gun until he turns sixteen. Then you would decide how to deal with him.” Lou didn’t back down from the gaze of the Deadeye.

  “You were supposed to find some info on the Yellow Cult, figure out how to disarm the yellow time bomb in my Sanctuary.” Rand looked over to the head of an alligator hanging on the wall to his left. It was massive, the trophy of a hunt he had undertaken years ago. His eyes traced the cured leathery skin of the gator head, “What did you find out?”

  “Tornado Joe and I have been fighting this one out for years now. I have something for you.” Lou leaned on his knees, “The Cultists were taking children to load them with Yellow magic, like Cal. The goal was to create warlocks who could channel energy from the Yellow King directly and act as his hand in the world.”

  “So Baird’s son is like a vessel for the King in Yellow?” Rand shot him a cautious look.

  “I don’t think it’s quite like that. I think they have to be trained. We discovered the Bastion where the Cult keeps children. They raised and schooled them there, looked like; kinda like a Sanctuary. I think a person like Calvin needs to be properly trained to use Yellow magic.”

  Rand pursed his lips, “If you brought Tornado Joe with you, I’m surprised anybody was left alive to answer questions.”

  “No comment.”

  “And this is supposed to give me confidence that Calvin is not a threat to the Sanctuary?” The Deadeye shot him a quizzical look.

  “It’s like you said.” Lou didn’t break his stare, “I brought Tornado Joe. We torched the place. Nobody left. The Abilene Sanctuary has custody of the site, they keep Guns there just in case.”

  With a deep sigh, Rand closed his eyes. He opened them again, lowering them to his desk. “Sounds like you think I should keep Calvin Baird around. I planned to have him destroyed.”

  “Don’t.” Lou spoke with a sincerity Rand found rare among his peers. “Billy would want to meet him.”

  “He ain’t come down. I sent word that Cal was here the day he arrived.”

  “I know. Give him time.”

  “He’s had time. He ain’t coming.”

  “You don’t know that Rand.” Lou felt a little aggravation creep up on him.

  “Either way, who’s gonna take him on? Nobody has agreed to train him, and his day is today. We all planned to take him out, calmly and mercifully.”

  Lou’s eye twitched a little in disgust. Though he understood that Rand was only doing what was best for the Sanctuary, he couldn’t understand the callousness of this approach. He chalked it up to the difference between Diamonds and Hearts. Rand could see that Lou was particularly attached to the boy. He sighed again.

  “So, If I were to force somebody to train him, it has to be someone who can keep him from the Yellow Cult’s hands. Our trainers here are almost all eights, nines, or tens. Nobody who could hold their own in a fight against the magical elements of the Cult.”

  “You have one.” Lou told him, his voice firm.

  Rand, now turned away, waved a hand. “You know you can’t take him on. You ain’t a registered trainer, you’re supposed to be taking assignments.”

  “Not me. You have a face card trainer.”

  This stopped Rand. He placed a hand on his desk. The room was silent, as Rand preferred the serene calm of a quiet office to think and write. While the kaleidoscope of memories from hunts passed hunt up on the walls did not distract Rand, the mere buzzing of a fly could keep him from his work for hours. It was the nature of a man honed like a blade for combat. With neither gun speaking, the quiet fell over them like a blanket for a long moment.

  “So, you think the Bootknife could handle him, huh?”

  Lou nodded.

  “Are you aware I have tried with nearly ten sets of students? He sent them all packing. They either took other trainers or turned in their pistols.” Rand raised his head again.

  Lou scooted to the edge of his seat, “This kid is different. He has Resolve, Rand. He had it at only eleven years old! And he has heart too. He wants to be like his dad.”

  Rand sat listening to this in silence.

  Lou continued, “He IS like his dad. He’s just like Billy, restless, itching to grow. He’s Billy Baird’s son, Rand.”

  “Alright.” the Foreman raised a hand, “Alright. You got me in a corner. I will have the Bootknife take him. He has two other promising students, maybe adding Calvin in the mix will keep them from quitting, if he really is like Baird.” His voice lowered, “But if he goes off, succumbs to the Yellow King, the Bootknife will kill him. There’s no talking HIM out of it, you know that?”

  “I do.”

  “Good.” Rand shook his head, clearing the frustration, “Now, want another drink?”

  Lou grinned, “The Pitchard, yeah.”