May, 1935

  Tornado Joe felt a little on edge, standing in the tall grass. Mountain ridges shaped the horizon in all directions, alongside the noble forests along the slopes and in the valleys. The beauty of the Yellowstone National Park was lost on him that day, as his mind was elsewhere.

  Yellowstone, the Posse’s greatest treasure, was a hub for Six-Gun operations and research. It was sacred ground, and it was deemed neutral territory for all the disparate parties within the Posse. Even Oathbreakers respected the land. Yellowstone was one of the only places on Earth where Tornado Joe could stand across from men who had broken their Oath, as he did now, and not pull his pistol.

  The three men in front of him wore red bandanas around their necks. They were members of a riding party in the Dakotas, they called themselves Bakers Boys. Men who had thrown their hats in with the Traitor, Benoit, and broke away from Posse Doctrine in the 1920’s. Joe stood Resolute, as they did. Neutral territory or not, he was not about to be taken surprise by turncoats.

  “Joe, settle down.” Lou Cobb spoke without looking to him. He stood a step in front of him, the grass coming up to his knees. “It’ll be fine.”

  Also with them was a much older Gun, who looked to Joe like he was in his fifties. Mickey Higgs, a stern Ten of Hearts, stood firm in the grass to Joe’s right. His Resolve was calm and collected, the result of a few decades on the Trail.

  “Boys, I wanna thank you for coming out here today.” Lou’s tone was firm but warm, “I think we will have a nice peaceful deal here. Before we start, does anybody have any reservations about this parlay? Speak now, and be silent later.”

  “No.” One of the Oathbreakers responded, the one in front of the others. “No reservations.”

  Louey let the Wyoming wind carry the smell of fresh pine to his nose. He took a moment to breathe it in before continuing.

  “Our goal today is information. We are trying to locate a bastion of Yellow Cult activity, and we have reason to believe you can help us.”

  “You think we’re in with the Cult?” The Oathbreaker leader raised an eyebrow. He cocked his head to Joe, from who he could sense the tension mounting. “Hey, do something about that one, Cobb. Guys like him are too predictable. He’s fixin’ to draw any minute.”

  Lou made the slightest look to Mickey.

  Joe could tell from that response that this was delicate work, and his nerves were ruining it. He looked to Mickey, who shot him a glance of acknowledgement. Joe felt a gentle push from Mickey’s Resolve, calming his heartrate a bit. He blinked.

  Louey had told him that Mickey Higgs had an interesting Resolve technique involving the manipulation of emotional states. Suggestion, it was called. Mickey could color his target’s emotional state, to calm or excite them. Aside from being a personal friend of the Cobbs, Mickey was chosen to come along for this reason.

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Forgive him, he’s a Diamond. Don’t know better like us Hearts.” Lou shook his head, “And no, I don’t think that at all, Stormy. It’s your Reader, that one.” He pointed to the elderly Gun on the left, directly in front of Joe.

  “I have a book, it’s evil. I believe it may affect me if I try to read it, but I’m willing to bet it won’t affect him.”

  Lou reached slowly into his satchel, clearing his mind of any malicious intentions which may be interpreted by the Oathbreakers in their Resolute States. He pulled out the Gargadash, taken from the Cult church in Oklahoma. Holding it up, he could see the corrupting Yellow magic seeping off of it. He knew the Oathbreakers could to.

  “You’re willing to bet. Huh?” Stormy grimaced, “That wasn’t in the message, Cobb. You got the guts to spring this evil shit on us now.”

  “I clearly stated an unreadable text.” Logan tilted his head, “This is an unreadable text.”

  “You didn’t mention some cursed shit!” Stormy bared his teeth, stained brown from chewing tobacco.

  A man in plaid sat on the saddle of his horse observing from a few paces behind the three loyalist Six-Guns. Barrel chested and rough, the Plaidshirts age hadn’t rendered him weak at all. He had coarse hands, the hands a craftsman earned after decades of labor. The man knew it was best to remain silent during this part of the parlay.

  Logan shrugged, “Well, let me spell it out. I need this book read. You got a Reader. You need a Gunsmith. I got a Gunsmith. Are we doing this deal, or am I taking Cid home?”

  “That’s Cid the Tinker?” Stormy looked to the Plaidshirt behind Louey quizzically.

  Cid nodded to him, waving a calloused hand.

  “That’s the finest Gellerite gunsmith this side of the Mississippi, Storm.” Lou looked around, maintaining his confident tone. “He can go right back to Wichita. Not far by train.”

  Lou had the leverage from the start.

  “You rat son of a bitch…” Stormy grumbled. “And you’d just hand him over to us, your enemy?”

  “Look, I know the Baker’s Boys ain’t evil. We just… disagree on which boot to put on first. I go for the left, I know you go for the right. That’s all. Yeah, sometimes we clear leather over it, but if we can go our separate ways I’m ok with y’all having Cid. We will miss him. But this cult IS evil. I need your help to bring it down, Stormy.”

  Joe was amazed at Lou’s dialogue skills. He even had the Oathbreakers chuckling a bit over the boot comment. His tone was comfortable, but not flippant. Every time he joined Lou Cobb, he was more impressed by his talents.

  Stormy looked to the Reader for a long moment, a silent exchange between them indicated only through subtle nods. Such was the way with many who Six-Guns who rode together for years. They often didn’t need to speak at all. Stormy turned back to the loyalists.

  “Alright. I think this works. Hand over Cid and the book, I’ll have Tim read it, and send you what he finds.”

  “Not a great offer.” Lou shook his head.

  “Don’t wanna make a deal today?” Asked Stormy, eyebrow raised.

  “Not that deal, no.”

  “So how we doing this, Cobb?”

  Lou’s tone became darker. “The reader stays with us here at Yellowstone. Already got a room ready for him at the Northern compound. It’s nice, I got a few bottles of Rambler waiting. Its comfy. After he’s finished, he goes back. Cid will work for you for a three year period in exchange.”

  “Ten” Stormy leveled his gaze.

  “Five, but he comes back Independence Day, you get a little extra.”

  Stormy stepped forward slowly, boots crunching the crispy Yellowstone grass. He extended a tattooed hand, which Louey gripped firmly. A handshake sealed the deal by honor of the Guns, no matter their relationship to the Oath.

  “Deal.” Stormy smirked, “Damn good deal. You trying to make friends out of us, Cobb?”

  “Not at all.” The disgust was apparent on Lou’s voice. Now that he had made his deal, there was no need for niceties. Cid had already begun to move across their imaginary line to the Oathbreakers. He crossed the Reader as he made his move to the loyalists.

  “I was honest. I need help with this one. Don’t matter much to me where I get it.”