The Gunslinger: Chapter 1

As promised, this is the first chapter of my next book. I pray that you will enjoy the read and it will encourage you to pick up a free ebook copy once available or purchase the paperback edition. Currently, i am unable to sell signed copies directly at this time, but i will certainly sign your books once i have a PO Box confirmed. Thank you and enjoy the read!

Myself and Rand continued to ride on the ferryboat as we moved further into the Midwest. Rand continued to laugh and joke with his henchmen while I was writing in my red notebook. I didn’t know just how many men I killed during our last exploit, so I just wrote a dozen ticks in the back of it. To date, I had taken the lives of sixteen men. My heart weighed heavy upon this notion, causing me to regret each and every decision I had made over the past year. What kind of person would I be in another year if I continued to live this life? I shrugged off the despair and focused my attention on the drafts of stories I would type later. It didn’t work too well. Still, I focused on creating my detective, from his suave composure to his handsome outerwear. I had just about begun the outline of his story when Rand came into the room in the guts of the ship, a cigar in his mouth and his hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle.

     “An what ya doin in here, son?” He asked loudly, retrieving a glass for me. He filled it to the brim and handed the whiskey to me. “We gotta celebrate.” I took the glass reluctantly, the weight of the warm liquid in my hand.

     “Cheers!” I responded, finishing the drink with a massive gulp and placing the glass next to me before focusing my attention to my story once more. Confused, Rand took the chair opposite to me, looking at my notebook.

     “That the same one yuns got the last heist we been on?” I nodded, turning it around for him to see the paper.

     “I’ve been using it to organize my thoughts on stories,” I replied, watching his eyes dart all across the pages. “I was hoping to type it up once I had access to a typewriter.”

     “Sounds good,” Rand piped back, taking another sip from his whiskey before continuing again. “I gotta ask: why’d ya wanna write stories, anyhow?”

     “When I was a child, mother would read books to me, giving me inspiration from massive volumes from authors like Washington Irving, Herman Melville and Edgar Allan Poe. From them, I decided to try it out one day, to see if I could have the opportunity to leave a verse upon the world.”

     “Quite a speech,” Rand pestered, slapping a hand upon my shoulder. “I plan on readin yer stuff soon as I can. Never been much of a writer myself, but maybe yuns can help me, huh?”

     “Any ideas on what you want to write down?” He thought for a moment before speaking again.

     “I thoughta writin a memoir of sorts. Seen a lot in the Confederate Army, fought many a battle an went through a buncha problems in my life. Guess what I’m sayin is I wanna git my story written down.”

     “That sounds like an interesting idea,” I replied. “I would be curious what all you went through myself.”

     “Are ya? Well, I thank it’ll be a great way to git these memories outa my head.” For the first time I had known him, Rand seemed depressed, almost as if the shadows of the past were flickering in his eyes. I stayed silent as he continued to mettle over what was going on in his mind. Rand stared out the window, watching the plains of the Mid-West passing us by. Finally, Rand rose from his chair, moving to the opposite side of the room and finally began to speak once again.

     “I ain’t never been much in my life. Never knew my father, raised in an orphanage, fendin mostly for myself. Don’t know if it’ll be a story nobody’d wanna hear about.”

     “I would like to hear about it.” I looked at my father with new eyes, almost as if I had met him for the first time. He seemed rougher, a bit more sage-like, and...tired. I stood next to him as he slid down the side of the wall, taking a seat on the floor.

     “Ain’t never been too mucha talker bout my past. Hell, I always just thought it was somethin that wasn’t important. I always felt the past was in the past, so their ain’t no point talking bout it.” I slid down next to him and cleared my throat before I spoke again.

     “If you don’t want to talk about your demons, I promise I won’t pry. I just wanted to get to know you better, to know the story about my family.” Rand’s expression turned from a state of gloom to his usual composure, spastic with a bit of excitement.

     “Well, I can tell yuns all bout that bit. Only problem is: where’d ya wanna start on that one?” I laughed at this and was about to open my notebook and take some notes before we were alerted by the clap of thunder in the distance. We rushed to the window, noticing the massive rainclouds swimming over the distance. It wasn’t too long before we were engulfed within the raging downpour, the entire boat shaking as the water beneath forced it to tumble. I held onto the table, hoping that the bolts underneath would support the weight of my body. As the shaking of the craft became more and more tumultuous, I began to fear for the safety of everyone on board.

     “Will this boat hold up?” I asked, my voice shaking in terror.

     “Damn it, I hope so. We only gotta few more miles ta go.” I remained hopeful while we continued our adventure, praying earnestly we would reach our destination with ownership of our lives. I took a deep breath, and waited for the storm to pass. We would land in Kansas, returning with nearly twenty-thousand dollars between us.