Sundown

By John Watson

Nothing much ever happens in the wild west town of Sundown. Sheriff Otis Grady and his deputies keep the peace and show no mercy to those who dare to step out of line. Their reputation is legendary and about to be put to the test.

It all begins when a mysterious man named Renfield rolls into town in a wagon with three coffins loaded on the back. He is on his way to Tombstone to claim the bounty on the Lazarus brothers and needs a place to rest up for the night.

When darkness falls on Sundown, the truth about the Lazarus brothers is revealed. Can Sheriff Grady protect the citizens of his town when bullets no longer work?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crazy Ink
• Release date: Oct 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201036805

John Watson

John Watson is Professor of Electrical Engineering and Optical Engineering at the University of Aberdeen, Scotland, UK.

Book preview

John Watson

A picture containing text Description automatically generated

Nothing much ever happens in the wild west town of Sundown. Sheriff Otis Grady and his deputies keep the peace and show no mercy to those who dare to step out of line. Their reputation is legendary and about to be put to the test.

It all begins when a mysterious man named Renfield rolls into town in a wagon with three coffins loaded on back. He is on his way to Tombstone to claim the bounty on the Lazarus brothers and needs a place to rest up for the night.

When darkness falls on Sundown, the truth about the Lazarus brothers is revealed. Can Sheriff Grady protect the citizens of his town when bullets no longer work?

Dedication

For David and Vergie.

This is definitely not the cowboy book you wanted, but I hope you like it just the same.

Chapter 1

Plumes of black smoke rose into the air, trying in vain to block out the rays of the rising sun. Silas Jeffers coughed into the crook of his arm, tears streaming down his face and carving clean lines through the soot that coated his skin. Poking his head around the corner of one of the few buildings not engulfed in flame, Silas watched as the slender man closed up the back of his covered wagon and leered at the townsfolk tied to the back.

In all, twelve residents of Sierra Vista were shackled to the wagon, his mother and the man he loved among them. Silas wanted to pull himself away from his hiding spot and run to their rescue, but his father’s words bounced around in his head.

You’re soft, boy, and you ain’t no son of mine.

Clenching his fists, Silas stood and leaned against the side of the general store, the rough wood nicking his skin through his tattered undershirt. He poked his head around the side and watched as the slender man climbed onto the wagon, preparing to leave. There was no sign of the three other men that had arrived in Sierra Vista with him, the three men who had torn through the town, killing everything that moved.

The wind picked up, sending the smoke across the town’s main thoroughfare. Seeing his chance to move under cover of the shifting black mass, Silas bolted toward the blacksmith building operated by his father. As he ran, he expected to feel rough hands grab him and waited for the sharp teeth of the mysterious travelers to sink into the soft flesh of his neck. Neither happened, as Silas made it to the building unscathed, albeit struggling to breathe from the smoke he inhaled during his run.

Well, look who it is.

Silas jumped, the unexpected voice startling him. Pops? he asked, peering into the gloom.

You don’t get to call me that, you damned sissy.

Flinching at the insult, Silas moved toward the sound of the voice, finding his father slumped against the wall. The man looked like death warmed over, his face as pale as milk and getting lighter by the moment as blood oozed out of a pair of puncture wounds in his neck.

Where’s your mother?

Silas gulped, avoiding his father’s withering stare. They, um, they have her...tied to the wagon.

Ambrose Jeffers balled his fists and planted them into the red earth, trying to push himself up. He collapsed with a groan and coughed loudly, flecks of blood landing on his salt and pepper beard. Dammit, he muttered.

Silas stepped towards the stricken man, saying, Let me help you, Pops.

Don’t you touch me. I know where those filthy hands of yours have been. He coughed again and fell over on his side. Grab my holster off the wall. NOW.

You can’t fight them in your condition, plus, you saw what...

You think I don’t know that, boy? Grab my holster and put it on. Ambrose blinked slowly, the fire in his eyes dimming as his blood continued to flow.

I can’t.

You can, and you will. I don’t care if you die doing it, but you will get your mother away from those...those freaks.

The holster and the weapon within felt heavy in Silas’ hands but not as heavy as the guilt in his heart. He pulled out the gun, the porcelain grip cool to the touch. Silas thought back to better times when his father had tried to teach him to shoot. The lessons were more about turning him into a man, but they never seemed to take. The gun always felt unnatural in his hand, and his eye too often slipped from the target to the shirtless blacksmith’s assistant employed by his father. It was a look that did not go unnoticed or unpunished by Ambrose, but Silas could not fight nature. When the old man caught his boy and Calvin in a naked embrace, only his mother stopped Ambrose from killing them both. There were times when Silas wished that death had come.

I’m dying, boy. Promise me you’ll get your mother or die trying.

Silas stared meekly at his father, the pain he felt at watching him die catching him by surprise. He swallowed hard. I promise, Pops.

Ambrose nodded and closed his eyes. As Silas buckled up the holster, the old man coughed again and said, Burn this building down. It dies with me. With that, he was gone.

Buckling the holster around his waist, Silas slipped the Colt back into its slot and grabbed a lantern off the wall. Shadows flitted between the supporting beams as he tiptoed to the open doors. Peeking outside, he could see that sun rising above the Arizona mountains, its burning rays turning the earth a stunning shade of orange.

The creaking of the wagon’s wheels pulled his attention away from the splendor of daybreak. With one more glance back at his dead father, Silas slipped outside and moved stealthily along the building until he caught sight of the wagon moving slowly toward the outskirts of town.

Silas unholstered the gun and ran, crouching low and flinching as the heat from the rising sun and burning buildings licked at his exposed skin. He managed to get ahead of the wagon unseen and dropped behind a water-filled barrel, where he aimed the Colt at the slender man driving the wagon. He cocked the hammer and aimed, but before he could get a shot away, his hand began to tremble as though the gun weighed a ton.

The wagon slowly trundled past his hiding spot, close enough for Silas to hear the slender man whistling a tune. The high-pitched whistles sounded off key, sending goosebumps skittering across his flesh like roaches escaping the light.

Silas holstered the weapon with a moan and watched the captured townsfolk shuffle past. His mother and lover, Calvin, were side by side, bound together by thick ropes. He moved out from behind the barrel and in the direction of the wagon, which was picking up speed, but before he could get close,