LLM Part 1 Chapter 1

Part I

1.

The Stonecast Town was named by the mason who founded the place when he accidentally discovered the rail tracks were passing the land of his. He bought the neighboring pieces and then cleared the valley of the trees to make the logs. He started off with the lumber yard and then expanded with the store and then the saloon. The last was needed for the cowboys were herding their cattle past the valley to the market place in the bigger town on the plains. The town grew from the few shops on a single street to fifty more on an expanded six streets in five years. The farms soon appeared and the local township had then a local sheriff to maintain the law and order. That growth stopped for over a year since even with the local law officer suffering no results, and the officer left the job. The town founders then formed a committee of enforcers but the town was suffering from a drain of inhabitants. The town was renamed the Stone Throw by then when the population dwindled to half its inhabitants.

“I can throw in the morning meals if you choose to extend for three more nights.” The hotelier had on his best smile while his right hand was pulling at the bowtie on the neck. He had on his best suit daily since the numbers on his hotel guests were dwindling. He was handling the guest that had booked in for one week then. The guest was a fine gentleman with a finer taste in the suit. It appeared to be handmade and the Stetson hat angled at the side gave him a handsome look.

“I doubt so.” The guest replied with a twitch to his upper limps where his pencil moustache gave out the masculine streak to the expression. “My cattle are passed here since last night. I …”

“I am sorry for your loss of the …I heard three of the cows.” The hotelier gave out his best of “I am sincerely sorry’ expression.

“Yes, it was but with a thousand of them I am sure I could spare a few. My bank account won’t feel the shortage.” The guest smiled back at the hotelier but the later smile had slumped into a slight frown.

“Thank you, Mr Smith.” The hotelier stepped back while reaching for the walking cane with the leaded cane top. “I do appreciate your stay here. I will have your charges taken care in the morning.”

“Good day, Mr Smith.” The hotelier then moved to the office behind the reception counter. Mr Smith then turned to move back up to the best suite in the hotel. He was paying good money for the best. It was the best of the better rooms with the wide bed and dresser with a deep bath tub. He had rejected the Mexican maid for the extra services although he tipped her well. The guest closed the door and then proceeded to remove the suede jacket before he removed his sweaty shirt. His upper body was a marvel to look at with the inkling of the tattoos over it. It was not any typical motifs but intricate designs of unknown origins.

“Kemo-sabe, am I to stay here for forever like being dead inside the ground? Or perhaps I am to find a spot to ink more on you?” Mr Smith looked towards the spot next to the bed. The figure was a bronzed hunk with bare chest and the bead chest plate.

“You could sleep on the bed. I did tell you the right side by the window.”

“Kemo-sabe, I can’t sleep there. I may ruin my posture and you won’t allow me to wear my moccasins on it.” The Native American rose up from the flooring. He then reached for the hand sewn blanket and slung it across the room onto the chair there. Mr Smith had then removed his shirt.

“Well, hang onto your pants I am sure the demons will be here.” The one named Mr Smith was named as Kemo-Sabe by the Native American. The man then reached for the towel to wipe the sweat off his chest. The tattoos on the body were swirling then as if it was alive.

“That made my day.” The Native American stepped to the door. He opened it and looked outside. “Can I go outside? I need to you know release myself. It’s the beans I guess.”

Without a word, the native sneaked off and leaving the tattooed guest alone. The figure alone in the room then reached for a fresh shirt from his duffle case. He saw then the gun belt that held his double guns with the twenty five holders for cartridges. The holster was held in place by an elongated slot sewn to the belt. The holsters were angled slightly forward for a faster draw. The holsters were hung low on the belt tab. He reached for it and held one of the cartridges there. It was not a typical cartridge for those were made from silver. It was the only material that will wound or kill the demons. Silver was considered a pure metal and demons when in ingested with it will react to it like poison. Whatever it may be, it kills demons.

“Shucks! Don’t tell me you are not dressed yet?” The native had appeared in the room then. “I am hungry.”

“Soon but I need to use the privy.” The tattooed man picked up the sweaty shirt. “I hope you did not dirty it.”

Me, Kemo-Sabe? You might want to check it out. I was not even near it at all. I have my own spot with the coyotes.”