Grand Jose physicians needed skill to hold their own in a drawdown, and you’re damn tootin’ a black doctor had better have it.

  The Ana Tribe was a-marching up the road through a heap of dust. Wolf-like and human-like and ominous and unworldly as all Dunbar claimed; sure enough, their fur matched the dusk horizon. Rhythm from their rattles shook up my nerves.

  I dashed alongside Chip to the empty widespread road that stretched to them. Went out with the intention to shoot, but gusto of a young rider some feet upfront stopped us.

  This lone musket-carrying young man in a cowboy hat had parked his mustang, willing and ready to protect the town from the hellish parade.

  As Chip and I glared, fingers on triggers, Chip quipped, “Ready to acknowledge the corn about the reality of these shadow beasts?”

  I took a breath. “Better catch up with that boy and that horse. It’s us against them.”

  After we finished sprinting toward the cowboy, he peered down and saluted Chip. The contrast between his pimply, teenage-like face and fearless gaze confounded me. He said, “Fancy meeting you this way, Sheriff. I’m Seargent Dylan King, Diamond’s suitor.” Right away, he aimed his weapon toward the threat.

  Chip gave a look as if he bit a tart cherry but shrugged it off and cocked his shooter.

  “Not seen a dang thing like this in my born days,” Dylan said. “Hey, can we trust the black fella? Saw you wrestling him on the stagecoach.”

  “Charming guy,” I whispered to Chip with my gun still in firing position. “Ready to acknowledge the corn about the reality of your jealousy over this boy and Diamond?”

  Before he could answer, the tribe’s rattling rose to an unholy crescendo.

  Calamity Dyer came into view. Hoisted by the fiendish tribe, she sat triumphantly on a rocking chair. A pointed cap replaced the beret that I’d known her to wear. It’s as if she’d been crowned queen witch.

  The image of her simpering behind a black veil fixed itself into what felt like an eternal sunset. As night settled on the skyline, the beasts, which carried her, bulldozed by us. Our resolve to kill that sounded with our every missed shot didn’t deter them. The tribesmen turned with her into the General Store alleyway.

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  In the smoky smell and fog of gunpowder, an Ana leaped all the way to the roof of the Pharmacy where Diamond stood in sniper position.

  “Fuck,” Chip yelled. Dylan and Chip both fired amiss; it had gotten well beyond reach.

  The thing stalked around the balcony, then dove all the way over the Restaurant, into the General Store alley.

  “It missed Diamond,” I said. “Sure did miss her.”

  Before I could thank the heavens, beasts zoomed to us, feather boas and snouts all around. They snarled, showing fangs smeared with black sludge. They looked to be conjuring something from their bellies, but we didn’t wait to see. As soon as they paused, Chip took his shots. For a man known as the grappling sheriff, he made each bullet count. Six bangs; six savages down in the sand.

  I followed his demonstration and ended a couple of them myself. Dylan hunted down his share, those impetuous enough to stop for an attempt at conjuring unseemly belly magic within reach of his musket fire.

  About as quick as I could get a breath, the remaining tribe members twisted into something like two tornadoes.

  When whirlwinds subsided, no longer were there several of them, but now two gigantic four-legged beasts leaking black blood from human lips. Just as united as their voices, dozens of them came together to constitute these two ravenous creatures. One stayed in front, while the other soared behind.

  “Oh, you don’t know. I’m a bronco buster,” Dylan shouted, while galloping toward the one ahead, bombarding it with a series of explosions. Myself and Chip went for the one behind. Before either of us could get a round out, the beast—damn—

  The beast— he rolled into an Inn and nearby homes. His size and impact collapsed the structures down on the people inside.

  Good people on Promise Road lost in dust and rubble.

  “Goddamn,” I cried.

  “You sons of bitches.” Chip said, firing a round that couldn’t catch the speed of the targets.

  Both Anas dodged and roared, then sneezed fire together in an orchestrated effort. One ring blazed around us, and another around Dylan.

  “Out of ammunition,” Chip said.

  “Me too.” I gulped, as the beast’s hot, stinking breath came down, alongside an oily wet substance that it secreted. Chip and I dove apart.

  At the same time of that mucky dribble landing on the sand, a sniper bullet fell between the monster’s eyes. A multitude of voices wailed, then it tumbled to the ground. After the fire vanquished like a broken curse, masses of dead Ana tribesman lay on the road. “Diamond got them,” I said, exhaling a bittersweet breath.

  As soon as flames disappeared and a path opened, I hurried to the crushed Inn, tossed about broken wood, and felt pulses of people I dug out.

  Got nothing, one after another. Every single one of them killed.

  ***

  That’s the Inn I took residency in every time work brought me into town.

  The smiling Innkeeper, Sandy, would hand me coffee in the morning, her blush as red as her freckles. “All black, and I added whisky,” she would say in her country accent. The dignity she gave every customer—

  And I found her buried in some lumber. I slid her red hair back; she had no heartbeat left.

  Goddamn monsters.