The Gunslingers: Ka-tet - Ch. 1
This is how an epic begins….
The Gunslingers: Ka-tet
Chapter 1 – Knifeman
The Gunslinger kicked his boots against the boardwalk steps, knocking small clouds of desert sand onto the worn planks. He gazed absently out into the desert from which had just walked. A storm was brewing, likely a big one, and it would be here soon. Fortunately, his business here would be brief, and he would be on his way again. The caves he saw in the cliffs a short distance away would provide adequate shelter to wait out the storm.
He turned and walked into the saloon. The place was only about half-full, and the din of conversation fell silent the moment the saloon doors slapped shut behind him. The men sitting around the tables glared at him, their faces stony and threatening. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be staying long.
He walked over to the bar and leaned against it, ignoring the stares of the other patrons boring into his back. He had anticipated their animosity – strangers in these parts were rare – but it didn’t mean he liked it. Every town was the same. Folks were scared, and scared people tended to be a might twitchy and do stupid things.
Scared people tended to end up dead.
The gunslinger knew that the six-shooters strapped to his hips only confirmed these people’s fears. It was irrelevant to them that he meant them no harm. But there was nothing to be done about it. He couldn’t afford to take them off, keep them hidden just to set these folks at ease. The pistols were as much a part of him as his own hands.
It was a simple fact that dangerous men roamed far and wide these days, taking what they wanted and killing for sport. These townsfolk were ill-equipped to deal with them, and they knew it. So every gunhand who strolled into town was instantly viewed with suspicion and mistrust. As far as they were concerned, he was just another miscreant out to take whatever he wanted and spill as much innocent blood as he needed to in the process. He understood their animosity, misplaced though it was. But it was the reason why he never stayed long in any one place.
“What’ll it be, stranger?” The bartender’s voice was cold, and the menacing tone did not escape the gunslinger’s notice.
“Whiskey,” the gunslinger replied. The bartender slapped a shotglass down in front of the gunslinger, pouring a finger of the amber liquid into it, and the gunslinger tipped it back, feeling the burn crawl down his dry throat.
“Sticking around long?” The implied threat was clear – either leave town or get carried out in a box.
The gunslinger shook his head. “Just passing through. I’m looking for someone.” He flipped a couple of silver coins onto the bar. “Appreciate the drink, say thankya. I’ll be on my way now.”
Tipping his hat to the suspicious patrons, who were still watching him intently, the gunslinger made his way to the door. He was just about to leave, his hand on the doors, when a call stopped him.
“Hile, Gunslinger!” He turned to see a young man, barely more than a kid, standing at the back of the room, a look of challenge on his face. He had hoped to avoid this confrontation, though he knew it to be necessary, and now here was this boy, ready to pick a fight. If he knew who it was he challenged, he might not be so hasty.
The kid took a couple of steps toward the center of the room, and the gunslinger saw the glint of metal. Not guns, as expected. Instead, the kid carried four knives, two strapped to each side. So he was a Knifeman. That was something rarely seen these days, less so in someone this young. He was either a natural with the blade, or his training had started early.
“Gunslinger!” the kid called again. “Are you really as fast as the stories say?”
The gunslinger’s response was to step back into the room, squarely facing the kid. He ignored the commotion of the saloon patrons scrambling to get out of the line of fire, his attention fixed on the young Knifeman.
“It doesn’t have to go down like this. No one has to get hurt.”
The kid grinned, but the gunslinger saw that there was fear hidden beneath that youthful arrogance. Not enough, perhaps, to make the kid withdraw his challenge, but enough that he might not be quite so sure about taking on a gunslinger. So be it.
“Your move, kid. But you won’t like the outcome.”
Quick as a flash, the kid’s arms crossed in front of him, his hands drawing one knife from the opposite hip and flinging them at the gunslinger. They tumbled toward the gunslinger with deadly speed, but in the next instant two pistols fired as one, and the knives fell with a clatter to the floor, now just two twisted pieces of metal. The gunslinger almost didn’t see the second set of knives already flying through the air at him. He dodged and fired simultaneously, shooting down one blade. The other nicked his shoulder before embedding itself in the doorframe behind him.
It was over in seconds, leaving the spectators of the duel gaping. Three ruined knives lay in the middle of the floor, and tendrils of smoke still drifted from the barrels of the gunslingers pistols.
The kid’s face registered first shock as he glanced at the gunslinger, then hardened into anger as his eyes found what was left of his knives. “You ruined my blades!”
The gunslinger holstered his guns. “I said you wouldn’t like the outcome. Besides, it was that or put a bullet through your heart.” The kid paled.
The gunslinger glanced at the people huddled against the wall and again noted the fear in their eyes. His display of gunmanship did nothing to endear himself to them, as he knew would be the case. It was time to leave, before someone really did get hurt.
He turned again and pushed through the doors and back out to the street. The wind had picked up, and blowing sand bit into his exposed skin. He would have to make it to the caves soon, before the storm reached its full fury. The duel inside has insured he wouldn’t be able to find refuge in town. He’d never survive the storm. The townsfolk would make sure of that.
“What’s your name, Gunslinger?”
He turned to see the kid running to catch up to him. Good. “My name is David. If you’re going to travel with me, we’d best get a move on.” He nodded toward the cloud of sand just appearing on the horizon. “That storm won’t wait for us to get to shelter.” They continued walking, an urgency in their step now.
The kid was quiet for a moment, then asked, “How did you know I wanted to come with you?”
“Because I came looking for you.” Seeing the kid’s surprised look, he added, “Oh, I didn’t know I was looking for you specifically. All I knew was that I would find someone I needed in this town – and you were the only one who followed me out.”
The kid mulled this over for a moment, then asked, “You got a last name, David?”
The gunslinger shook his head. “Someone stole that from me a long time ago.” And before he could ask another question: “You’re pretty fast with those knives, kid. How are you with a gun?”
The kid’s mouth twisted downward. “Not so good. All my training and experience has been with throwing knives.”
David nodded, expecting this answer. They were at the caves now, and none too soon, as the first of the storm’s grit began to strike their skin. “Well, soon as this storm blows over, we’ll begin your training. It’s no good for a Gunslinger to be without his guns.”
The kid looked surprised for only a moment, and then he grinned.