A MILLION STARS sparkled like precious diamonds above the remote town as the lone horseman spurred his mount on. The merciless desert sun had set and slowly the heavens were darkening with every beat of Uriah Moon’s heart. For the last ten miles it had become ever easier to locate the remote settlement of Apache Springs. The acrid aroma of civilization hung in the air and was easy to follow. The stronger the unholy smell got, the closer Moon knew he was to his destination.
The stench of decay which drifted on the unmoving desert air was not unusual for this section of land. Countless abandoned towns lay beneath a merciless sun and quietly rotted as new settlements sprung up wherever there was an ample supply of water. The sickening aroma of out-houses in sorrowful need of lime filled the flared nostrils of the drifter as he steered his flame faced gelding slowly toward the unmarked boundaries of Apache Springs.
Whatever drove Uriah Moon on his relentless crusade against those he deemed unfit to exist alongside ordinary folks, was known only to the vigilante himself. He never revealed his motives to anyone. To Moon there were only two kinds of people in this world. Those who were good and those who were bad. Regardless of whatever the color their skin was or what god or demon they worshipped, he would dispense his own brand of justice in his own deadly way.
Uriah Moon saw only the good and the bad.
Nothing else mattered to him. He saw himself as an avenging champion for all those who were incapable of defending themselves.
He had been riding constantly since he had left Mission Wells a few days earlier. His horse was used to the punishment its master would dish out. There was no intent cruelty in Moon but he simply did not understand that unlike himself, other creatures needed rest and time to recover.
For Moon never slept like other men.
He never required the rest that was vital for everyone else he encountered. It was something which was totally alien to him as he pressed on.
As his lathered up horse cleared a sandy rise his eyes finally spotted the settlement. A place that his nose had known was there for the previous couple of hours.
Uriah Moon eased back on his long leathers and stopped his mount. A cloud of dust rose up from the hoofs of the nervous horse as its master studied the town silently as he dropped from his saddle, removed one of his canteens from the saddle horn and moved to the nose of the animal.
Moon dropped his wide brimmed hat on the sand and then unscrewed the stopper from the canteen he cradled. Without taking his eyes off the distant Apache Wells, Moon emptied the canteens entire contents into the bowl of the Stetson.
The white haired drifter returned the empty canteen to the saddle horn and then awaited his horse as it hurriedly consumed the precious liquid. When the gelding had finished its drink, Moon scooped up his hat and returned it to his head. The droplets of water that remained inside the hat’s bowl felt good as they slowly traced down his face.
Moon then gripped the saddle horn and mounted in one well-practiced action. His own thirst remained unquenched and yet he did not seem to notice. His only thought was to locate the mysterious man that he knew only by name. Somewhere in that town a man named Morgan Bray dwelled and the vigilante was determined to find him and make him pay.
A burning fire raged in his guts.
Even though he had never encountered Bray before, Uriah Moon knew the outrages the man was said to have dished out against innocents. There was no hiding from Moon’s brand of justice. For Moon always tracked down those he sought and punished them accordingly.
There was no hiding from the relentless horseman.
His long fingers removed a tobacco pouch from his vest pocket and loosened its drawstring. He pulled a gummed paper from the pouch and curled it around his fingers and thumb.
As Moon sprinkled the fine tobacco powder onto the paper his eyes continued to stare out at the town ahead of him. Not one of the souls within Apache Springs suspected that their world would soon be changed forever.
When satisfied that he had loaded the paper with enough tobacco, Moon drew its drawstring with his teeth and returned the pouch to his vest pocket and raised the paper to his mouth as his fingers expertly rolled the paper into a hollow tube.
Uriah Moon ran his tongue along its gummed edge. In a well-practiced motion Moon rolled the paper and then placed it in the corner of his mouth.
Whatever this man felt or thought was a total mystery to all who had ever had the misfortune of meeting him. He counted the dozen or more structures ahead and observed the lay of the land as he produced a match and ran his thumbnail across its bright red top. Moon cupped the flame as it erupted and touched the tip of the twisted paper.
As his lungs filled with smoke he tossed the still flaming match at the sand and brooded at the sight before him. Smoke drifted from his nostrils like the warning signals of a mythical dragon.
He glanced down at the freshly painted wooden sign a few feet ahead of his gelding. The words declaring the settlement was Apache Springs confirmed what he already knew. This was where he had been told by Charlie Erle he would locate his prey and that caused him to almost smile.
Moon sucked in more smoke until his lungs were filled with the toxic blend of tobaccos and then flicked the smoldering remnant away before slowly allowing the smoke to gently filter through his gritted teeth.
‘So that’s Apache Springs,’ he hissed like a diamond back rattler as he gathered his reins back up in his claw like hands and jerked his mount back into action.
The horse responded immediately.
It trotted down the sandy rise and proceeded toward the quiet town. Moon looked around the expanse of land and noticed a solitary ranch house about two miles away from the settlement he was approaching. Its lights spilled out across the land before it. Then the bellowing of disgruntled steers drew his attention away from the ranch house. Moon did not see them at first but the longer he stared out into the darkness the keener eyesight became. The haunting image of a hundred or more steers moving in the light of the structures oil lamps confused Moon.
This did not seem to be anything like cattle country.
Uriah Moon returned his attention to the buildings ahead of his exhausted gelding. Apache Springs was now much closer as his mounts hoofs slowly ate up the ground beneath its hoofs. Moon could already hear the sound of its population growing as he neared the first of its buildings.
Darkness came quickly in these parts, he thought. Sometimes it came so quickly that it even surprised those who lived beneath the black velvet canopy that blanketed the entire sky. Moon looked up from his saddle at the stars that covered the heavens in their glory and then returned his icy stare to what lay ahead of him. At first glance Apache Springs seemed identical to numerous similar towns in this arid region.
Yet the seasoned vigilante knew only too well that each and every one of the remote settlements were very different from one another. There were places he had visited in the previous few months which were so peaceful it unnerved the lethal Moon. Then there were other towns where the opposite ruled the roost and it seemed that everyone had a gun and would happily use it.
Which of the vastly differing towns would Apache Springs be, he pondered as his horse took a few muscular steps and entered the outskirts of the town. Moon glanced around him as he silently negotiated the narrow side streets and alleys. There were many people still moving around the town but the majority of the activity was taking place along the main thoroughfare.
Moon steered his flame-faced mount out of the shadows of an alleyway and into the main street. The darkness had provided the stranger with a temporary shield of protection on his entry into Apache Springs but the wide main street was steadily getting brighter as lantern light spilled from store fronts and cascaded across its sandy surface.
Uriah Moon held his long leathers high in an attempt to disguise his full beard from scrutiny and eyed an old man slowly lighting to streets lanterns who appeared to be keeping pace with his gelding.
This was a dangerous situation, he thought. At any time someone might recognize his distinctive appearance and start blasting at him with revenge burning in their hearts. Uriah Moon had slain many folks in his time and knew that every one of them had kinfolk. Kinfolk who were often more dangerous than those Moon had executed.
The temperature was falling rapidly but Moon did not appear to notice. His mind was thinking of only one thing and that was surviving the ride along the main street. His eyes continued to dart from one passing person to the next in expectation of any of them drawing their guns and firing at him.
Over the years Moon had dispatched death more times than he could remember yet it meant nothing to the cold-hearted drifter for he considered himself to be judge, jury and executioner.
He went and did what even the law shied away from.
Yet nobody had ever discovered why.
Uriah Moon was a puzzlement. A seemingly emotionless character who stood roughly six feet tall and sported two seven inch barreled Peacemakers cradled in high holsters. Unlike many men in the ever expanding west, Moon knew how to use his weaponry better than most.
So far Moon had never faced anyone who had proven to be faster on the draw than himself. This had led to many who had heard of the strange Uriah Moon, to believe that the vigilante had sold his soul to the Devil.
The horseman continued his slow progress through the lantern lit street and studied every single structure carefully in case he might need such knowledge during the following hours.
Nothing escaped his intense blue eyes. It was as though every little detail was permanently branded into his memory for future use.
Apart from his vivid blue eyes there was little else to see of his features. His long prematurely white mane of hair and his thick snow colored beard hid almost everything else from scrutiny. Nobody had ever managed to work out how old Moon actually was.
If there had ever been any color in his hair, it was long gone and yet the agile drifter moved like someone who was far younger than his white hair implied.
They say that everyone has a past and yet Uriah Moon even defied this common fact. Until five years earlier it seemed that the deadly gunsmith had not existed at all.
He seemed to have appeared from nowhere in his present, distinctive form. Fully grown and utterly lethal. What or whoever Uriah Moon actually appeared to be, all anyone knew about him for certain was that he was a merciless killing machine.
He was a law unto himself. A man that most had heard of but few had ever encountered.
With every stride of the gelding, Moon could feel the curious eyes of the townsfolk burning into him. The lantern light grew brighter as it stretched from one side of the street to the other. His narrowed eyes watched as he finally passed the old man who was still lighting the street lanterns.
A dozen or more store fronts illuminated as the remote settlement prepared for night. A few riders rode at pace passed Moon’s lathered up horse and only stopped as they reached the saloons and entered their crowded interiors.
Most of the noise which echoed around the settlement was coming from the pair of saloons set to either side of the main street. Like so many similar towns, Apache Springs seemed to be coming alive as night fell.
Moon stared through his long silver mane at the two saloons set on opposite sides of the street. The familiar sound of tinny pianos drifting out from their open swing doors made the vigilante relax slightly.
His arrival seemed to have gone mostly unnoticed, Moon thought as he steered his mount passed the saloons. He studied the townsfolk who were milling around with calculating eyes knowing that there were still enough shadows to disguise his distinctive appearance.
Uriah Moon had noticed one thing upon entering Apache Springs. Like many of the settlements in this arid terrain, there was no law to be seen. His tightened eyes had searched in vain for any hint of a sheriff’s office, but as he rode toward the end of the street, he began to realize this was a lawless settlement.
That suited Moon just fine.
Sheriffs and other brands of star packers tended to get in the way of the intrepid vigilante. Reaching the end of the main street, Moon stopped his gelding and looped a long leg over the neck of horse before sliding to the ground. It was a lot darker at the furthest end of the meandering street.
There were no street lanterns on high poles in this section of town. That suited Moon for it made it far easier for him to move around without instantly being recognized.
Moon tossed the long leathers over the closest hitching rail and then secured it in one swift action. As he tightened the leathers his expression hardened as he moved around the horse and then stepped up on to the boardwalk.
Uriah Moon gave the street his full attention as he rested a hand upon a wooden upright thoughtfully. There was at least a score of folks moving around the street and none of them appeared to be aware of his presence in the town.
Moon’s tightened eyes watched the few females scurrying to and from the stores before heading back to their homes whilst the menfolk seemed more interested in the saloons with their lantern light spilling out across the street.
Yet the cold-blooded drifter remained disinterested in any of the people he had so far witnessed in Apache Springs. He moved his attention to the structures behind his broad back as one by one their oil lamps were lit. Orange light crept from each of the windows along the boardwalk.
The structure set about twelve feet away from where Moon had paused had a shingle hanging from a metal chain in the porch roof. As it gently swayed in the evening breeze, Moon could read the solitary word painted upon its surface.
‘Hotel.’ He read aloud as he turned his frame and started to move toward the shingle.