“What’s this training supposed to be about?” John asked, a quizzical look on his face, “The gunsmith said our pistols wouldn’t be ready for a while, what are we out here for?”

  The three boys sat on an overturned tree, deep in the woods outside the Smoky Mountain Sanctuary. Logan the Bootknife had taken them out there. It had been a week since their trial. They now boarded together, in the spare rooms in Logan’s house. Logan wasn’t too happy about that, but he had his orders from Deadeye Rand. All three boys were now proper Six-Guns, missing only their pistols.

  Logan shot John a withering look, “Uh, no. Listen and listen good. I hate repeating myself.” He pulled out his flask and took a swig. “A Six-Gun’s first and only reliable weapon is his mind.”

  “Then why are we called Six-Guns and not Six-Brains?” Buster tapped his head.

  Logan pointed at him, flask still in hand, “You should be called No-Brains, now shut up and let me finish.”

  Calvin had to laugh a bit.

  “You will have your time with your pistol.” Logan took another swig, “Trust me, I’m gonna work you so hard with those pistols that you’ll never wanna clear leather again. But for now, we need to focus on what REALLY makes the Six-Gun. You guys are going to practice hunting down a target with little support. No pistols, no witches, just each other and your heads.”

  Calvin nodded. “So, what are we going to hunt? Some kind of ghoulie?”

  Logan reached in his coat and pulled out a silver case, flipping it open. It had five rolled Six-Gun cigars in it. “You will be hunting these.”

  Cal looked to John for some kind of interpretation. John shrugged, similarly at a loss.

  “I will smoke one of these cigars every two hours starting right now. It is your job to get your hands on one.” John pulled one from the case. “Doesn’t matter which one. You only need to get one.”

  He placed the cigar in his lips and flipped open a lighter, then slid the case back into a pocket in his coat. He closed his eyes, taking a long draw, then breathed the smoke out.

  “Clock’s ticking, boys.”

  The sounds of the woods seemed louder to Calvin, as nobody spoke. Birds sang their tunes in far off branches, and crickets kept up their call. He looked to Buster, who looked back at him.

  “You’re, uh, not gonna run or anything?” Buster asked his teacher.

  “Nope.” Logan stood still, enjoying his cigar, “I’m gonna hang out right here and have a few smokes.”

  “So that’s easy, right?” John stood up, stretching his arms. “We just bum rush him guys, its three on one. Two can hold and one grabs the cigar out of his mouth.

  “Worth a shot.” Calvin nodded, standing.

  Buster chuckled as he hopped up. “It’s K.I.S.S. Keep it Stupid Simple! Your lead, John Boy!”

  John nodded. He bolted towards Logan, Calvin and Buster going after him. Logan let out a huff of amusement. John reached for his arm, but Logan was quicker. With a fluid motion he took John’s wrist and hoisted it, landing a mean right hook to his stomach. John wheezed as the wind was knocked out of him. With Calvin close behind, Logan let go and slid his boot out in front of him. He was lightning quick, slamming Calvin into the nearby tree with significant measured force. With just Buster left, he gripped the clown by his red hat and yanked it down over his eyes, then threw his knee into Buster’s stomach. Buster went down, all three boys defeated in a few seconds. Logan stood over them, puffing his cigar. He appeared unmoved by the sight of them writhing on the ground.

  “You kids gotta do better than that. You suck eggs.” Logan chuckled.

  John stumbled to his feet, catching his breath. “Come on, guys. We can time it better.”

  “Surprise attack!” Buster pulled a long string of colorful handkerchiefs from his sleeve, swiping it in Logan’s face. The older Gun ducked and rammed his elbow into Buster’s side. His movements were efficient, never overextending.

  “Not bad! A distraction is probably a good idea.”

  Buster coughed, holding his side. “I bruise easy.” He squeaked out.

  John nodded to Calvin. Both entered a Resolute State, focusing on each other’s Resolve. They were able to see the changes in intent between them as colors shifting in the current of magical energy around them. Calvin intuited that this was what John’s nod actually meant, and now he was glad he had guessed correctly. As much as he didn’t care for John’s attitude, he had to admit they were on the same page.

  Logan, also Resolute, raised his eyebrows. “That’s thinking with your noggins!”

  Calvin moved at the exact same time as John, both of them reaching for Logan’s cigar from different directions. The coordination was exact, leaving little room for a counter. Logan tilted his head and spit the cigar up into the air. The sudden, unexpected move threw both the boys off long enough for Logan to grab them and slam them into one another. They crumpled at his feet. Logan caught the cigar as it came down and brought it back to his mouth.

  “Great technique, thinking on the fly.” John puffed on the cigar. It was getting shorter each time he drew.

  “It is easy to think that we just hunt feral beasts which act like animals. That cannot be farther from the truth, boys. In your tenure as members of Grady’s Posse, you will find yourself standing against cunning entities way smarter than most people walking around. You must be ready for anything. The Six-Gun is adaptable, or he’s dead. Easy answer.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The boys continued to try to come at him like this for the next few hours, to no success. The sun had begun to sink beneath the mountain ridge, bathing the forest in darkness. The three young Guns panted, covered in sweat, sitting on the overturned tree again. They collectively sustained many bruises and cuts. Logan stood there, smoking his third cigar, unphased.

  “You guys are a little less than halfway out of time.” He told them, “Come on, wrap this up so we can go home and have something to eat.”

  “Wrap this up?!” Calvin looked at him with angry eyes, “You’re in charge here! You wrap it up!”

  “Not till y’all get a cigar. That’s the rule.” Logan sighed, “And in case you don’t understand how important this is, I’ll make it real for you. If you guys do NOT get one of the three remaining cigars, then I will have all three of you bumped from Six-Gun training. You will not be a Six-Gun, you will at best join the Plaids in support of the Posse.”

  “You can do that?” Calvin gasped

  “Oh yeah I can. I have done it probably ten times. I have flunked out many Six-Guns for failing to take my cigar. I haven’t had one single student pass this test.”

  John couldn’t keep the shock off his face. “What! So you’re just walking people off!”

  Logan looked between them. “If a Six-Gun can’t think on his feet, without his pistol, he is a liability. I would rather send you packing than send you to your death.”

  “I’m washed!” Buster cried, “I’ll have to perform in a circus like my cousin Thad! They’ll make me sweep up elephant poop!”

  “We’re getting a cigar.” John stood up again. He breathed in and entered a Resolute State. He did not indicate for Cal to follow.

  Logan watched on glibly as John came at him again. The Critical Moment came to the older gun, indicating a sweeping kick to his left leg. The intent was written in the currents. However, this was a ruse, a bait, one which Logan did not see as quickly as he should have. Instead, John went for the cigar, using the kicking intent as a feint. This was more of an advanced use of Resolve than Logan expected, one designed to mislead other beings which use Resolve or magics similar to it. Logan never expected for a child to perform a Resolve feint like that.

  He was quick enough to grab John’s arm, however. “Well, now that is actually out of the ordinary. You almost got me. But you failed to properly commit. So here goes.”

  The Bootknife took John’s arm in both hands and quickly dislocated it from the shoulder with a sharp crack. John’s eyes went wide as pain shot through him. He crumpled to his knees, trying to breathe through the pain.

  “A Resolve feint” Logan continued, “Leaning hard into an intention to do something when you actually plan to do something else. A form of spoofing your Resolve signature. You shouldn’t know how to do that, that’s not for newbies.”

  John was no longer paying attention to his teacher, holding his limp right arm. Despair painted on his Resolve, he screamed in agony.

  Logan remained where he stood. “Easy, easy. Focus through the pain.” His voice was a little softer.

  John coughed, breathing heavily. He tried to regain himself. Logan patted him a bit. “Come on, Calhoun boy, reset your arm. I’m not gonna do it for you.”

  Calvin looked to Buster and nodded. Buster, seemingly in tune with Cal, performed Comedy magic and pulled a live seagull from Hammerspace. The bird appeared in his hand, as if emerging from nothingness. This was Buster’s best distraction effort. He tossed it to Logan, who jolted back with the unexpected flapping. Calvin, having anticipated the act, scooped up John where he sat and bolted.

  Farther on in the forest, Calvin knelt down next to John. Buster stood by, frowning as he watched John suffer the dislocated shoulder. John gasped and wheezed; he had never been injured like this before. He began to sweat.

  “Ok… uh, I think I saw one of the Plaids do this once…” Calvin was hesitant to put hands on him. He looked to Buster for an answer.

  The rodeo clown rolled his eyes, “You sweet summer child…” He came over and gripped John’s arm with one hand. He placed his other hand on John’s shoulder and jerked the arm up. With a solid pop the arm snapped into its socket. Calvin cringed at the sound, reeling back a bit.

  John howled at the sudden movement. As the pain slowly subsided, he cooed. “Fuck, ok guys…”

  “What?” Buster asked, now a step back from him.

  “I dont know how we can get him. I just need a minute.” John panted, holding his arm.

  The forest breeze rustled the leaves around them. Calvin listened in silence, amazed at John’s resilience after the physical trauma. Focus came to him at odd times, and he found he couldn’t keep his mind off of the leaves tumbling from tree branches. The windy days of summer brought the forest to life. Calvin breathed in, trying to steady himself. That all-familiar temper peeked its head.

  “Why can’t we take a stupid cigar?” Calvin clenched his hand into a fist. “How the Hell is he so fast?”

  “That’s Resolve for you.” John looked up at him, “Six-Guns use Resolve to do all kinds of supernatural things. But first and foremost it gives us the focus to see things coming at us. I didn’t realize that our teacher would go this hard, but you should know this.”

  “My dad never taught me.” Calvin lowered his eyes, embarrassed. There was still so much about the Posse he didn’t know. Moments like these always made him feel stupid. Buster could see it on his face. He was rummaging around in his left sleeve, with his right hand.

  “Hey, Calvino.” He pulled out a wrapped piece of bubblegum and offered it to John, still looking up. “I’m sorry about your dad, man. I never got a chance to say. There’s no reason to leave a kid behind.”

  John took the gum. “Herbal?” He asked.

  “Pain suppressants, I think.” Buster grinned at him, “Or laxatives. I forgot.”

  That pulled a chuckle from Calvin’s chest. John unwrapped it, studying it for a moment before ultimately popping it into his mouth. He stood up and chewed.

  “Well I don’t care.” John looked Calvin straight in the eye. “We all got problems. If you can’t get over your dad, you’ll die. That’s what the Bootknife says, and he’s right. Just take it on the chin, suck it up. That’s what I do. I won’t complain about my brothers to you, and you don’t complain about your dad to me. Deal?”

  John offered him a hand, still staring at him. Calvin couldn’t help but feel a little bit of that anger bubbling. He knew deep down nobody truly cared, but hearing it so bluntly made it sting too much to be ignored. He didn’t want to shake John’s hand, acknowledge his hard attitude. For a brief moment he felt that great resentment hidden within him aimed at John, its chamber loaded and hammer back. He didn’t shake.

  “Are we teammates, John?” Calvin asked, returning his glare. “We got each other?”

  John answered without hesitation, “Yes. I absolutely got you, as much as I can. The Posse made the three of us a team. You wouldn’t be my first pick, but so be it. We are teammates to the end.”

  John unknowingly channeled some of the legendary Calhoun charisma. Calvin was struck by his confident confirmation. It defused his resentment, for now. He took John’s hand.

  “I don’t like you at all, John, but it’s at deal. I don’t mean to make things about my dad, and I won’t anymore. It’s just us on this team.”

  This put a smirk on John’s face. “That’s how I feel too. So how are we gonna get that cigar?”

  “So I think this last try made something crystal clear.” Buster grinned, “This isn’t about the cigar. This is a fight.”

  Both John and Calvin nodded, grave looks on their faces.

  “So we hit hard. Strike fast, try to land blows.” John looked to Calvin

  Cal nodded, “Force his hand to counter, and go for the cigar.”

  “How do we ambush him if he can use Resolve to see us?” Buster raised a painted eyebrow.

  “I think I know.” Cal looked between them, “Teacher mentioned something earlier that might help us.”