By Lincoln Reed
After they stole my boots, they tied a necklace of dynamite around my throat.
Georgie, an unkempt prospector who stank like a skunk in a manure pile, knelt into the stream and lifted my pan, surveying its sandy contents as dawn glimmered orange in the fuming mist of Yellowstone hot springs.
“Well, lookah here, Tex.” Georgie picked out a golden nugget the size of a huckleberry. “Like that crazy professor figured. The mother lode. I reckon her veins are underneath this volcanic earth.”
“Was here first,” I pleaded, voice cracking, knees quivering. “You got no right—”
“Claim jumper’s what you is,” Tex said, floppy hat pulled over his scarred face, an eyepatch hugging his left eye. He poked a Colt 1851 Navy revolver into my ribs. “Bound them hands, Georgie. That’s it. Behind his back.”
The rope cinched my wrists and cut against my skin. I stood on the rocky earth in tattered socks next to a humble stream leading into a simmering hot spring.
Thieves! My pulse raced in righteous fury. Animals.
Steam rose from the soil as if the earth itself was boiling with rage. Evergreen hills observed in silent judgment as Tex aimed his Colt at my donkey, Cletus, my lone compatriot in the vast wilderness, my sole confidant, my only friend.
Fury bubbled within my gut. Mounting fear swelled like a torrential wave cresting, ready to crash. “God as my witness I’ll—”
A gun blast reverberated. Cletus toppled with a pained heehaw.
Tex spat tobacco with a spiteful sneer. “Too old to haul a blade of grass, that one.”
Time slowed, my vision blurring, tears welling in my eyes as the stoic landscape swallowed the decaying gunshot’s song.
Cletus! My dry tongue weighed heavy. My fists clenched. You’ll be avenged.
The hot spring hissed.
I’ll not rest…
A creeping sensation scuttled across my skin. Hairs raised. Sweat dribbled down my forehead. I glared at the prospectors. I’ll haunt you. All your days.
Blood thickened through my veins as anger clogged my laboring heart. My breath caught in my chest, lungs constricting in a pained wail of anguish.
Hellfire on you demons!
Tex unwound a long strand of fuse and backed away. After he and Georgie reached a safe distance, he motioned me toward the hot spring with his gun. “You’ll get your gold, Pilgrim. I hear heaven’s got entire streets of gold.”
A wind gust whistled in my ears, whispering as it swept through the valley, harmonizing with the incessant babbling of the creek. The entire vista seemed abuzz with anticipation. Trees stood like audience members basking in the macabre show.
Tex clicked the hammer back on his revolver and pulled the trigger. A ball of lead screamed, skimming the earth next to my big toe. I instinctively kicked my knees up. Sticks of dynamite bobbed against my chest.
The thieves laughed. “Jump, claim jumper! Dance!”
The hot spring hissed as if alive, teeming with apprehension.
“Get on, now.” Tex waved me forward. “Get go’n!”
My heartbeat echoed in my head like a drum announcing a death march.
I teetered on a stone, stumbling into the warm stream, water up to my ankles. My mind ached, ideas churning, plotting methods of escape. No matter how hard I clawed at the rope, I couldn’t untie my wrists. And if I ran, I wouldn’t evade Tex’s surefire aim.
I advanced with deliberate steps toward the spring, where a pool of steaming water glistened as blue as sapphire. Rocks cut against my feet as I swayed, trying to avoid falling or bumping the dynamite.
This… This is the end.
Fate settled on my shoulders, heavy with eternity’s impending verdict.
Give me justice. I glanced toward the ancient hills. Vengeance.
The scenic caldera responded with a gurgle from the hot spring. A sulfuric aroma filled the air like a stringent perfume. Steam clouded my vision as the broiling water burned through my feet, peeling away the skin with a heat so vicious, pain tore through my limbs like wildfire.
Tex flicked a match to a cigarette, took a long drag.
He lit the fuse.
Seconds later, water sprayed into the air, followed by red flames and molten rock. Fire engulfed me, twisting my bones, consuming me from a doorway beneath Yellowstone, morphing and snapping my frame with the binding poultice of ash and brimstone. A coat of fur decorated the lapping inferno coursing through my chest. Smoke wafted from my nostrils as fangs jutted through my extended jaw. Fingers sharpened into claws with nails like obsidian knives.
My guttural, menacing growl rumbled like boulders thundering down a mountain slope. When I emerged through the smoke, the cigarette tumbled from Tex’s slack jaw. A trickle of liquid stained Georgie’s pants.
I reared on hind legs as Tex gathered his wits, aimed his gun, and yanked the trigger. My fur absorbed each bullet, dissipating the projectiles like wisps of smoke.
Flames shot from my throat with a deafening roar. A geyser of fire poured from my mouth, engulfing Georgie, licking away his flesh.
Tex cursed. Reloaded his gun.
I sauntered on two paws, standing at full height, waving razor claws, spitting fire through bared teeth. The thieving prospector glared at me with trembling lips.
I devoured him whole, reducing the murderer to a pile of ash.
Afterward, I raced through the timber, leaving a trail of scorched bark and charred earth in my wake until the scent of Georgie returned. Rotten, corroded—another group of prospectors, miles away.
As the sun set, I plodded in their direction, hunting their putrid stench, my rage growing with each stride.
You vandals. Thieves.
I found their site hidden in an outcropping, campfires aglow.
All of them were gold miners. Prospectors. Vagrants.
Killers.
Like a bear from the pit of hell, I charged through the trees, disintegrating the fiends into chaff, an oath in my infernal snarl.
I will roam these lands.
Always searching, your scent in nose.
My jaws hungry for your sins.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Love your descriptions and word choice in this piece! Thank you for sharing!
Wow what a great twist on a western story! Beautifully written sentences! Thank you for sharing with us.
Such powerful descriptions! Awesome story!
Good one!