Calvin jolted awake. His head jerked around as he caught his bearings. The light from the cave mouth cast this chamber in an eerie blue glow. He was drenched in sweat, and there was something in his hands. He looked down, still catching his breath. It was a rock, or what appeared to be one. Thick and heavy, the rock gleamed a little bit. He groaned as he pushed himself onto his feet, still holding the rock.

  As Calvin left the cave, still sweating, he could see all the warriors except for Degataga had left. John and Buster stood there, both of them holding rocks like his. He noticed now that these rocks were actually dull, unrefined pieces of metal. It made sense why they were so heavy. Calvin then noticed that long watchcoat, his mentor standing with them.

  “So, I can see you all passed the Trial.” The elder Gun looked between the three boys. His attitude had softened a bit. “Now, you’re proper guns. That oath you took, the kid schooling, none of it don’t mean shit until you go through the Trial.”

  He started to pace, eyes switching between them, “You ain’t no Gun till you show that thing you got the nuts for it. And you boys obviously got the nuts.” There was a hint of pride in his voice.

  He pulled out his card, showing the Queen of Hearts, “Now, y’all are worthy of introductions. My name is Logan Denton. The others call me the Bootknife. You will call me sir, or teacher, something respectful I don’t give a shit. It looks bad on all of us if you go around calling me Logan.”

  After he was done, the boys stood there in silence. Degataga coughed a bit. “Now is when you will introduce yourselves.”

  “Awkward.” Buster piped in quickly.

  John started. “I’m John Calhoun. I come from the Calhoun family of Six-Guns.”

  “Calhoun family? From Texas? What are you doing in the Smokies, son?” Logan lit up a cigarette.

  “I wanted to get away from my brothers. I’m the youngest of five, and I’m tired of being little Johnny.”

  Logan’s eyes darted back to him, “That’s your move, huh? You wanna blaze your own trail, be better than the other Calhoun boys.” He nodded as he took a long draw from his cigarette. “All right, we will see if you really got the gumption to make your name your own. Now you.” He nodded to Buster.

  Buster took an exaggerated step forward and stood straight. “Buster Haime, Order of the Harlequin.”

  “Howdy, rodeo clown.” Logan exhaled, “Your ancestors are watching, I take it?”

  “Just right!” Buster nodded. “I will take up the mantle as my Order will have it.” He spoke a rehearsed line.

  “That’s good. I have a lot of respect for rodeo clowns. Hopefully you can earn your makeup, boy.” He then looked to Cal, “Now you.”

  Cal looked a little confused, “You said you knew-“

  “Just go on and introduce yourself.” Logan waved a hand.

  “Alright. My name is Calvin Baird. I’m from Florida. I don’t know if I’m from a family, but my dad is a Six-Gun too.”

  “You ain’t.” Logan told him, “Billy Baird is an anomaly. Don’t think because you’re his son it means you have some inherent skills.”

  John raised an eyebrow. “He’s your dad? That guy is a legend in the Posse. You seem awful green for someone with a famous Six-Gun for a parent. Didn’t your dad tell you about any of this?”

  Rubbing his neck, Calvin frowned. “No. He never told me anything. He left a long time ago. I haven’t seen him in probably a decade now.”

  Both the other boys looked floored. John dropped the cool demeanor, and Buster nearly fell over.

  “You’re telling me you had no clue about the Posse at all, when your own father may be one of the greatest out there?” Buster sounded almost offended by this.

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  “See I thought my parents were bad…” John blinked.

  Calvin felt his gut sink a bit as the familiar notion snuck in. His father must just not care about him. As a child, he didn’t really get it. He never understood his mother’s sadness, he did always believe his Pa would come home. But he never did. His mother died alone and afraid, without the husband who could have easily protected her from the men who killed her. He had been permanently changed by the events of that night, and it seemed like his Pa didn’t care. He never came to check up on him, hug him and grieve the loss of his mother together. He never even wrote him a letter to see he couldn’t come down. He didn’t acknowledge him at all. Calvin thought about this more and more, the older he became. It was a bitter, shameful feeling which left Calvin wondering why he wasn’t even worth the trouble of telling him he didn’t want to see him.

  “I told you he was an asshole, kid.” Logan appeared unphased by the conversation. “Suck it up. Nobody’s throwing pity parties. You’re a Six-Gun now. So what’s your deal, then? Why do you wanna do any of this?”

  Calvin furrowed his brow, trying to think of an answer. A few moments of silence went by.

  “Awkward.” Buster couldn’t help himself.

  “Well I don’t know!” Calvin barked. “I mean, Louey brought me here when…” He was already too drained from his ordeal to go down that road, “Well, when I was a kid. I don’t know, I just decided to take the oath. I guess I wanted to meet my dad. But when we talked about it, it kinda seems dumb.”

  His voice wavered, “I don’t think he wants to meet me. So I guess I don’t really know why I wanna do this.”

  “That kind of attitude will get you killed, Calvin Baird.” Logan the Bootknife set his eyes on him intently, “The first psychic entity you meet will eat your mind alive. Good thing we got partner witches, or every lost little wandering Gun like you would be a Wendigo’s plaything. But your witch ain’t always gonna be able to protect you.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Calvin started to feel that anger bubble up in him, the kind which he had discovered within himself in the cave. Logan, in a Resolute State, could feel this shift. He could definitely see the frustration giving way to an inner darkness. While not the so admirable as other passions, Logan understood that this could be the driving force which would keep a Six-Gun alive. He decided to press it.

  “I want you to take a look at your shitty little life and make some sense of it, kid.” Logan responded, leaving Calvin a little dumbfounded.

  He continued. “Your father don’t want you. He thinks you’re worthless, obviously. Lou Cobb probably does care about you, but that don’t make you special. Guy is a saint, he cares about everyone. I don’t give a shit about you. You got nothing. They were gonna dispose of you, on account of that thing you got.” He pointed to Cal’s shoulder.

  Cal soaked in his words like a sponge. It hurt, he felt cut. If he hadn’t just been through the Trial, he might have started to cry. The anger took hold instead. He scowled at this man in the watchcoat, unable to bite back that thread of hatred.

  “I know you wanted to meet your dad, but not for the reason you might think. Look a little deeper, Calvin. You want to meet him as a powerful Six-Gun. A survivor. You wanna tell him to his face that he was wrong, that you are worth it. That’s what you want.”

  Logan stepped closer to him, staring him in the eye. He pointed to John “That’s a six gun, no doubt about it.” He then pointed to Buster. “That’s a rodeo clown.”

  He shoved his finger into Cal’s chest, speaking low. “But you are a survivor. You survived that night, and every day since. You survived the Trial. You will meet Billy Baird as a survivor.”

  Calvin just stood there. Every word he said fed his feelings. It felt good, great even, touching all the lonely nights he spent wondering what he would say to his dad. He was right, Cal could tell. Logan didn’t need Resolve to see that this was hitting the boy in the way he intended. He was just a teenager, of course this kind of thing would stick. Logan didn’t know if what he was doing was truly the best thing for his new pupil, but he knew it would keep him alive against the things in this world that wanted to eat him. Logan wished he could say that for every kid that passed the Trial, but this was not the case. He let off of him.

  “Alright. That’ll do. Guess what? You three deserve something to eat. Let’s hit the road.

  John blinked again. “Hey, uh, sir. What’s the deal with the rocks?” He held his up. They had all three been holding theirs.

  “I was hoping somebody would ask so I didn’t have to!” Buster grinned.

  “That’s your Gellerite.” Logan nodded. “We’re gonna take it to be forged into your pistol frames. Go on, go Rez and pump a little energy through it. You’ll see.”

  Gellerite, as Calvin had learned in class, was the material all the pistols the Posse used were made of. It was a seemingly mythical metal of unknown origin. Gellerite resonated with the magical energy associated with Resolve, which could be used to alter its properties and further connect the Six-Gun with his pistol. In a Resolute State, the Six-Gun could handle a Gellerite pistol many times faster and more accurately than one made from steel. Now Calvin understood how a Six-Gun got his hands on some of this stuff. It had to be given to him once he was deemed worthy.

  Calvin looked down at his hunk of Gellerite, trying to become Resolute. He found he couldn’t hold a Resolute State, his breathing becoming shaky. Logan had put him in a mood, he was having a hard time keeping a level head. He shook his head, deciding to leave it be.