A FLASH OF deadly lightning splintered across the darkening clouds which draped across the lawless Apache Springs. The sound of battling gods up high in the hostile sky was like listening to the end of time. Hidden within the depths of the ever moving black clouds, blinding white hot eruptions rippled across the unholy heavens. The storm was not here yet, but it was heralding its approach.
As the rain grew stronger and started to ricochet off the high sided livery stable, it was as though unseen gods were playing drums upon the tin roof tops which surrounded the awesome figure who walked defiantly beneath the worsening storm.
Nothing, it appeared slowed the stride of the towering vigilante. Moon feared nothing and no one. The devilish lightning which forked across the sky was ignored by Moon as he continued on toward the massive building.
Uriah Moon moved silently toward the livery stable as the impending tempest shook the very ground which the bearded vigilante strode across.
He stared from beneath his wide hat brim at the imposing structure. The darker the sky became, the more haunting the livery stable appeared. The glowing light of its forge danced upon the tall barn doors as its crimson illumination beckoned the vigilante toward it.
Moon knew that the hard-working blacksmith never seemed to leave the massive confines of the livery. It was as though Gus Thorson was actually part of the large stable.
With the acrid scent of sulphur filling the remote settlement with its putrid aroma, the towering vigilante walked between the wide open barn doors into the livery stable. Moon had no sooner paused when a massive burst of electrical energy erupted in the darkening sky behind his wide shoulder’s. Yet unlike the burly blacksmith, Moon did not flinch. It was as though he did not even notice the flashing violent forks of lethal power and deafening noise which made the ground beneath his boots tremble.
The sweat soaked Thorson stared at the expressionless vigilante as though a demon had suddenly entered the livery stable. Moon continued to approach the startled liveryman and paused beside the hot forge. Steam rose from his damp jacket as the heat of the forge began to do its work.
Thorson frowned at his companion.
‘Are you human, Moon?’ the liveryman said as he stared at the unholy figure beside his glowing forge. ‘Don’t storms give you the jitters like other folks?’
‘Why should they?’ Moon drawled.
‘Lightning can be fatal,’ the blacksmith said as he meandered toward the forge.
‘Most things can be fatal, Gus,’ Moon smirked.
The muscular man sighed in frustration. He knew that there was something different about Moon. Something very different and he had yet to figure out what. Since first encountering the tall man who hid his features beneath a mane of long silver hair and an even longer white beard, the blacksmith had grown even more confused by the unpredictable vigilante.
Thorson was well aware that it was virtually impossible to win an argument with the thoughtful Moon. The blacksmith’s only consolation was that the astounding vigilante did not regard him as an enemy.
Moon’s enemies died really quickly.
Uriah Moon studied the far larger man.
His narrowed eyes looked at his refreshed mount in a stall close to the forge and then cast their attention at Thorson.
‘Get my horse ready, Gus,’ he muttered as his long fingers pulled a golden eagle from his vest pocket and tossed it at the blacksmith. ‘I’m moving on.’
Thorson looked surprised as he caught the coin and pushed it into his apron pocket. He turned his neck and looked at the expressionless man beside him. He scratched his thinning hair and squared up to Moon. He could not fathom why anyone would choose to leave town during such a growing storm.
‘Are you serious?’
‘I’m always serious, Gus,’ Moon answered. ‘Why?’
Still cautious of upsetting the deadly gunman, Thorson chose his words carefully. His wrinkled expression was pained as he watched the tall man beside his hot forge.
‘You’re actually gonna head out into this storm, Moon?’ he gasped. Thorson doubted the sanity of the decision but knew better than to question the daunting vigilante.
Moon narrowed his fierce eyes upon the sweating blacksmith and then rested his knuckles on his gun grips.
‘That’s my intension,’ he drawled threateningly. ‘What of it?’
Thorson moved closer to the man with steam rising off his jacket as the heat of the red hot coals dried the dampness off him.
‘But that storm is getting worse every damn minute and you’re figuring on riding out into it? Are you crazy?’ the blacksmith asked. ‘Lightning is dangerous.’
‘I know that,’ Moon said dryly as his ice blue eyes glanced at the coffee pot sitting upon the forge. ‘It don’t trouble me none.’
The blacksmith shook his head. He knew that he would never manage to change the mind of the mysterious vigilante no matter how much he tried.
‘If it was me I’d wait for the storm to pass,’ Thorson informed with a long sigh.
Thorson’s concern amused the vigilante.
‘The storm ain’t gonna pass quick enough, Gus,’ Moon said as stroked his beard and tightened up the leather lace looped around its middle. ‘It’s headed to the place that I’m going. If I delay, they might escape my wrath.’
‘Where’s you headed?’ the blacksmith asked.
‘There’s a forest this side of Tuscan,’ Moon said as he stared into the hypnotic glowing coals light. ‘The hombres I’m intending on capturing headed into that forest after they left Tuscan. They’re in there someplace and I intend catching them and making the bastards pay.’
The larger man waved his arms around like a windmill.
‘I’ve heard of that damn forest, Moon,’ he warned. ‘It ain’t a place to ride into willingly. Most folks never manage to escape from them trees once they’ve entered the forest.’
‘Most folks ain’t me,’ Moon stated bluntly.
‘Death stalks that forest, Moon,’ Thorson drying said.
The face of the haunting vigilante glared through the flickering crimson light of the forge. He could not understand the trepidation in the burly blacksmith’s voice.
‘Death and me are old friends, Gus,’ he stated. ‘He’s on every trail I ever take. So far he ain’t wanted my scalp on his belt. I know that one day that everything will change and then he’ll grab my hair and drag me down into Hell. Until then, I’ll just keep doing what I do best.’
The muscular blacksmith shrugged.
‘I just wish you’d wait until the worst of the storm has passed, that’s all,’ Thorson suggested like a caring father giving advice to his impetuous offspring. ‘There ain’t no hurry, is there?’
Moon nodded slowly.
‘Yep, there sure is a hurry,’ Moon produced a telegraph message which he had belatedly received from the telegraph office from his inside jacket pocket. He waved it under the large blacksmith’s nose. ‘I only just got this message from a friend in Tuscan. Like I told you, there are three hombres out there and I intend finding them.’
‘Do you know anything about that forest, Moon?’
‘Nope.’ The tall man watched as Thorson lifted the blackened coffee pot and hovered above the tin cups. ‘All I know is that I’m headed there and folks are gonna die.’
Clearing his throat, Thorson filled tin cups with coffee and thrust one into the hands of the vigilante. His expression hardened like freshly laid cement as he studied the infamous hunter of men. The mysterious Moon was like an open book and yet he was impossible to read. Whatever drove the strange vigilante it was a secret which the blacksmith doubted that even Moon himself did not truly understood.