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bristled with muscles like a circus strongman. Lead flew through the air as the guns rocked in Jed’s hands. Shooting as fast as he could to pump as many bullets into his opponent. Staggering, the werewolf nonetheless ignored the bullets showering its chest. It roared ready to end the gunslinger’s life and Jed bellowed while sending his last cartridge screaming into its maw. The werewolf dropped between his legs to the ground, dead.
    Jed groaned and breathed in relief. He kicked its open mouth away from him in disgust. The gunslinger went to his feet. The Kruger in his left hand raised. His wounded right arm hung by his side. Jed did not aim at the dead werewolf. He aimed at the new werewolf on the outskirts of the campfire’s light. By comparison to Adolf this one was much smaller.
    Like its brethren the werewolf had thick tuffs of fur around its head, shoulders, and groin. Its midsection was covered in thin fur, not as dark or long. Its teeth were bare and the yellow eyes thirsty for blood. Jed remained calm, his revolver unmoving. Hopefully, the werewolf did not count his shots, for Jed did and he knew his chambers were empty. Its yellow eyes locked onto his pale ones. One agonizing moment the gunslinger and beast stared. The werewolf stepped into the shadows and disappeared.
    After it had gone Jed did not move. He watched the shadows even as the blood flowed from his chest. Even as it dripped down his arm, wetting the handle of his Colt. Several minutes passed before the chestnut calmed down. The spent cartridges of his guns dropped to the ground. Jed picked out the bullets attached to his gun belt and loaded the chambers. Then he started patching himself up.

Chapter 4
     
    The train grinded to a long slow stop, the wheels braking hundreds of feet before the station. Sluggishly, it crossed the last feet, lining its passenger cart with the platform. With a final shudder, a gasp of steam, and the train fully stopped. Smoke billowed out from the engine, a black dark color. The windows in the cart were covered with curtains. One flashed opened and swiftly closed again.
    An old man, with a grandfatherly appearance, stepped out, scowling as the sun, already bright and harsh, blinded him. Carrying luggage in both hands, he reluctantly walked off the train, unable to cover his eyes. Another person followed, also holding bags and suitcases. A wagon was beside the platform, and they placed the bags on it.
    The third person off the train was a woman. She exited expanding an umbrella, shielding her from the sun. Blonde air bright as the sun was bundled up in a bun. Keeping care the sun did not pierce the umbrella, she needlessly told the men to be careful with the bags. She held her own purse. A black woman, stern and silent, followed her under the shade.
    The blonde woman waved to the man driving a parked carriage. “Hello, sheriff,” she said pleasantly.
    Carter removed his hat greeting, “Good day Ms. Cooper. Nadi.”
    The black woman made him nervous. Not for the color of her skin, but the beads and tribal necklaces around her neck and the bag that had plants poking their flowers out.
    The final person joined the others. Amongst them, he was the shortest and oldest. He had pronounced wrinkles and a round grumpy face. He did not have the demeanor of a grandfather. Kids shied from his piercing eyes, vibrant despite his age, and daring anyone to meet them. Few did. Balefully, he glared at the sun. The climate in the southwest ill-suited him. All of its harsh heat and dry lands. He missed the dark forests of home. Business forced him here. He would make do.
    Sheriff Carter anxiously approached. “Mister Douglas we have a problem.” Annoyed by the simple fact one existed, Douglas evenly awaited. Carter swallowed. “Ed Miller has been murdered.”
    Beth Cooper gasped in shock. She blurted, “When? How?”
    “Werewolf. Several days ago.”
    Douglas did not react. Save for a constant frown, his face was expressionless.