Cowboys & Aliens: Bonus Story Page 2

THE BRAND - 1878

Serendipity was no ghost town, but it could do a decent impression of one. The red-haired woman felt eyes upon her, but could spot none of those watching her. She slid off her horse and tied it to the hitching post outside the Hart, Serendipity’s lone saloon.

Dan Williams peered out the window above the Hart’s entrance. He grimaced. It was her. Of course it was her. It was always her.

Over the last year, “Firebrand Dan” and his gang had robbed fourteen trains across three states. Thirty-two corpses marked his path, all with the telltale burns that had become Williams’ signature.

Somewhere along the way, the bounty hunter outside—Verity by name—picked up his scent. She pursued him relentlessly, picking off members of his gang until the three who remained abandoned him. Williams cursed them for their treachery.

He had no desire to kill a woman, but no real objection to it, either, especially when it came to this particular woman. If she didn’t watch it, she’d find out how he earned his nickname.

Cinnamon looked up from the bed, eyes wide.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice high and nervous, like a little girl’s.

“Ain’t nothin’,” said Dan. “Just shut up a minute.”

He heard movement and voices below. The woman was making her presence felt. Wouldn’t be long before she knew what room he was in. He stood and walked towards a chair on the far side of the bed where his clothes were piled.

Before he reached it, Cinnamon rolled out from under the sheets and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Whoever it is, they won’t find you,” she whispered. “The others won’t talk.”

He grunted.

“You don’t know this bitch.” A crash from the bar punctuated his words. He shrugged Cinnamon off, but she had her arms round him again before he’d taken another step.

“Come on, honey. Don’t be like this.”

Williams slapped her across the cheek with the back of his hand. She spun back, falling onto the bed.

“This woman’s been on my tail for months now. Never lettin’ me get any rest. She’s haunted me, you hear? Haunted me. It ends now!”

He ran his hands through his clothing once, then again, trying to control his growing panic.

“Looking for this?” said Cinnamon. Her voice wasn’t a little girl’s anymore. Now she spoke with the hard-edged tones of a lifelong whore. In her hand she held The Brand.

Beads of cold sweat broke out on Williams’ forehead. “Now hold on a second, darlin’. You don’t know what you got there. Just give it back and we’ll forget all about this.”

“Don’t think I’ll be doing that, Danny. Why don’t you put your pants on and we’ll go talk with your red-headed ghost about divvying up the price on your head.”

Williams didn’t move.

“Glaring at me ain’t gonna make this any easier, honey,” she said.

Scowling, Williams grabbed his pants. With a burst of speed, he spun around, falling to one knee. The pants snaked out and slapped Cinnamon’s arm, throwing her aim off as she pulled the Brand’s trigger.

Cinnamon was surprised to see no immediate effect from pulling the strange gun’s trigger, no explosion of light, no sound, no kick to speak of. Williams was on her before she could see the fire growing on the wall where the gun had been aimed.

THE PRESENT

“Firebrand Dan didn’t escape the fire,” said Shepherd. “But the item did. I never found out exactly how.”

“Very interesting,” said Dawn, whose tone indicated it was anything but. “But the item’s history is less important to me than its future. May we proceed?”

“Of course, of course,” said Shepherd. “It’s in the library. Follow me.” Leading her down a dimly lit hallway off the main foyer, he continued speaking. “After Williams lost the item, its history for the next several years becomes impossible to chronicle with any certainty. There are several fires it might have caused, but only one case in which it was actually seen.”

Dawn walked a couple paces behind Shepherd. His cane’s rhythmic tapping on the hardwood floors echoed slightly against the corridor’s burgundy walls.

“In 1904, an unidentified man and a woman named Charlene Thompson escaped the fourth floor of a burning hotel in Toronto. According to Thompson, they flew to the roof of the building across the street. She was quite clear in her description of how this was managed; the man used a gun-shaped object to lift them from the fire. He immediately fled the scene, pursued by a shadowy figure Thompson only glimpsed briefly.

“I’ve also heard tales of a magician working a few years after the San Francisco fire. Certain effects attributed to him might well have resulted from strategic, if frivolous, use of the item.

“It’s likely the item contributed to the 1930 Ohio State Penitentiary fire that killed 320 convicts. Impossible to prove, unfortunately.

“The next instance in which I’m sure it was used was a series of murders in 1930’s Chicago. A number of mobsters died, all with the telltale burns on front and back that earned Firebrand Dan his sobriquet. It would seem a hit man acquired the item and used it to perform his duties.”

“So it would seem,” said Dawn.