Chapter 1

He died, there was a blinding white light and then, he awoke again. James William Smith gasped and sat up, his vision blurry - the Essence Transfer had been completed.

James had been reborn ... again.

The first life had stopped when, in his old age, he had found a Genie in a lamp and made some wishes. The wishes had allowed him to live life over with all of the knowledge he had retained from his previous life, and with some added benefits to boot. He had then relived his life making everything better for his family, his extended family and himself. He had lived his “second life” to 102, making it a whole century before deciding it was time to move on.

Now, instead of dying and going to Heaven or Hell, he had been reborn again in a body of indeterminate age.

He was sat upright and stared up at the clear blue sky, watching intently as a cloud floated lazily by. He narrowed his eyes as he saw an eagle high above, searching for prey.

The eagle wheeled and turned, its movements concentrated. Knowing that it had located something and was focusing on it, James continued to watch. The eagle flew against the sun, its silhouette momentarily blotted out by the incandescent light. Then it tightened its circle and hung poised in the vast blue before it suddenly swooped down, crashing through the air like a lightning bolt and disappearing out of sight.

James continued to stare at the sky long after the eagle was gone. He tried to determine where in history he was. Somehow, he had taken a Quantum Leap from his previous body to this one.

James looked at his hands. He was a Caucasian male. His hands were younger; he couldn’t tell, from that alone, what age he was, but they were rugged - calloused and used to hard work - that much he could tell. He’d have to wait until he was in front of a mirror before he could even hazard a guess at his age.

He did look around though, at the landscape. His eyes adjusted as he took in the details; it was quite beautiful.

At a guess, he thought New Mexico Territory; spring had given way to summer with all the subtlety of a fist to the face. For a few weeks rain would fall complete with frequent rainbows and the land that would be bleached of color would put on a green cloak—in a good year even a show of wildflowers. It was a thing of beauty for weary human eyes to behold. But already the mantle of green was withering, showing the brown of the desert, its true face pained and painful.

James looked down at himself to see what he was wearing and frowned. He wore dust-colored pants which were torn at the knee. His chest was covered by nothing more than a light Henley which might have been white once. Above him, circling in the air now, were buzzards with their wings outstretched as they waited patiently for him to be their quick and easy meal.

He saw scraggly sujuaros and tumbleweeds roll past and smirked at the memory of basically every cowboy movie...

‘It’s a bit cliché but it would do in a pinch.’

At least he was on a track to somewhere ... he saw a long unnaturally wide strip of packed dirt running from one edge of nowhere to the other. The ‘road’ was hardly better than the bare ground between patches of rabbit bush and mesquite scattered on either side.

The sound of hooves drew his attention. There were multiple riders but he couldn’t tell how many. It turned out he didn’t have time to wonder.

As he turned his head, some riders entered his line of sight and immediately directed themselves toward James, circling around him as they neared. They stopped their horses. “They” were three bearded men—tough, hard-looking guys dressed in typical dark drab layers. Their clothes had a coating of dust on them as if they’d been riding for a while.

He contemplated them; they all looked similar.

Two of them were middle aged while one of them was older. The old guy appeared to be the man in charge; he wore a top hat and, oddly enough, James thought it made him look like an undertaker. Once the strangers had stopped, James saw a long black-haired scalp hanging from the old man’s saddle like a trophy. Another scalp hung from the saddle of one of the other horses, too.

He had already formed an opinion of them.

“Excuse me stranger,” the older man with the top hat said to James, “We’re riding toward Absolution. You know how far west we are?”

He didn’t know so he chose not to reply. Instead, he looked around at them silently, taking stock of the weapons they had and what they could provide for him.

James looked down and saw that he had bare feet ... that could present an issue if he had to walk.

“Maybe he’s a dummy, Pa,” one of the younger men said.

‘Pa?’ That meant they were family; top hat was the father and these two were his sons. Their similarities were distinctive.

“Some reason you don’t wanna answer my question, friend?”

“Could you tell me which way is Absolution?” James asked.

“Sure,” the man jerked his head in the general direction.

Good enough.

“Now about that question?”

James didn’t answer.

“Could be he broke out of the hoosegow” the other son said. “Might well be bounty money!”

“Could well be,” Pa stated with a nod. “Not your lucky day, stranger.”

Pa pulled out a short 12-gauge double barrelled shotgun from the holster on his horse and then dismounted. He walked over to James and nodded at the gun before tapping James’ shoulder with it.

“Stand up.”

James stood up. The man then tapped him with the barrel of the shotgun just above his heart.

“Turn around real slow,” the father said “and start walking.”

He didn’t move.

“I said start walkin’—.”

He tapped James again.

James slammed his fist into the man’s gut before pulling out a knife from his belt. He turned around and stabbed the first son’s groin. The man screamed in pain as James yanked the shotgun from the father and fired into Dear Old Dad’s chest.

The second son pulled out his gun and fired but James sensed the attack and dodged forward so the side attack missed. James grabbed another knife and threw it at the man, hitting him in the throat and slicing through his Adam’s apple. The man fell off his horse in his death throes.

He took a pistol from the father’s belt and walked over to the remaining son who had fallen down and was whimpering on the ground. He aimed.

“Wait!”

“I guess today’s not your lucky day, stranger,” and fired point-blank, coloring the rocks with the man’s brains. He studied the mess and then himself and sighed. He needed boots and some new clothing, weapons to, as they wouldn’t need them anymore.

He went through the horses’ saddlebags first, finding some beef jerky and hardtack; they were the only things there that interested him. He ate as he moved from horse to horse collecting canteens and any other food he could find. He then emptied their pockets of any money and took the most decent saddle bag to use for his newly collected wealth.

One of them was wearing leather stovepipe chaps and jeans that looked almost new. He pulled those off, removed his own torn trousers and tried on his new pants. They fit quite well. He stripped the jacket vest and shirt off one body, threw away his own ruined shirt and finished putting on his new wardrobe. The dark vest was a nice touch, he thought. He almost tossed the coat aside because the day was already too hot, but decided against chucking it, you never know when you might need it, so he stuffed it into a bedroll just in case it could come in handy.

Next was getting some boots: it looked like one of the sons wore the right size so he pulled them off the corpse and put them on. They were a little tight but they would do in.

When he was done, James searched the men for weapons. He found revolvers, ammo, and knives.

He looked at the revolvers. There were two Remingtons and Colts, a Farroute, Smith & Wesson, and a Joslyn. James favored the Colts. He lifted one to his ear, put it on half cock, and spun the cylinder like he was trying to win the big money on Wheel of Fortune and listened to see how well the cylinder divots fit with the cylinder lock. He tested all of the revolvers; the Colts seemed to be the best ones. The Colt grips felt easy and well-balanced in his hand.

He was able to tell a lot from the guns, how new the guns were and what timeline he was in as well. He knew that Samuel Colt didn’t get his U.S. patent until sometime during 1836. So that placed him, either during 1836 or after, so he had a rough timeline of when and where he was.

He took a minute to look at the gun belts. Once again, the father had the best one. James put it on. Once it was secure, he spun both guns around in his hands and holstered them

It was feeling like a regular weapon shop. He found and took the father’s throwing knives. There was a skinning knife which was razor sharp. And a carbine. He opened the carbine up and saw it was fully loaded.

Lastly, James needed a ride. There were three ready and waiting horses, so he turned to them and took in the details so he could decide which one he’d be riding. One of them had a bedroll on the back and was a blue Roan horse with a long black tail and mane - the tail whipped around as he walked over to the horse and looked at the scalps with disgust; he quickly pulled them off and chucked them on the father’s carcass. The vultures that were circling could have those as well.

He took the saddles off the other two horses and sent them trotting off - let them be free he thought with a smile then he went to his new horse and hoisted himself up onto the seat sighed and looked at the road.

Absolution...

He smiled and touched the horse with his spurs. It set off at an easy lope, a pace his body didn’t find unbearable.

As he rode a tune came to mind that he whistled:

James rode into town.

When he got there, he located a hitching post near the sheriff’s office and tied his horse up and went to find the lawman. As he approached, he saw the man sitting there with a hat on his head snoring away. The sheriff’s badge was glinting in the sunlight that streamed through the window, giving it a halo-like effect.

James knocked on the door.

The man snorted and looked up “What?”

“I’m sorry to bother you” James said. “But I was wondering if you could help me?”

“I can try.”

“Is there a way in town to make a quick buck?”

“Sure” the man shrugged. “You could try gambling.”

“Don’t have enough money for that” James admitted with a frown.

“Okay, well there is one other way.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah” he looked at the wall and nodded at a wanted poster. “He’s in town. He’s probably at the bar getting his dick wet, so if you want to go take him out - dead or alive, preferably dead if you catch my meaning - it’ll get you a nice easy thousand dollars.”

“Much obliged” James pulled the top of his hat down in a nod but the sheriff was already snoring.

James took the poster and went to the bar. He stepped in and the music stopped while the pianist eyed him before carrying on. James went to the bar and looked around but did not spot the man in question.

So he went upstairs where he heard giggling come from one of the rooms. He walked to the door and, standing to the side, knocked on it. He watched while bullets tore through the cheap wood. He smiled when no more came, then kicked the door in and saw that the man was already at the window.

James’ reflexes kicked in. He pulled his gun, cocked it, and fired. It was a lucky shot, hitting the fleeing fugitive square in the neck. The man fell to his death, though if the ground hadn’t done the job, it’s likely the damage from the bullet would’ve.

He smiled and said mostly to himself “Still got it.”

He flipped the gun around in his hand and holstered it.

In the room was a bathtub and a brunette with big tits.

“Hi” she smiled.

“Hi.”

“Want me to” she made a sucking motion.

“Wouldn’t mind.”

“Why don’t you take them clothes off so I can wash you and take care of that for you.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

When he was washed and she was fucked he took a minute to stand in front of the mirror and examine his new body.

His eyes were strikingly blue and they glinted like sapphire. His hair was a dark blonde that had a ruffled look to it. He was muscular with a slightly toned chest - no six-pack though.

He was going to have to work on that.

His chest and back however looked ravaged with a kind of tattooing of past battles; there were lacerations that remained from previous conflicts. This, in itself, told a story as he traced the scars from knife fights, bullet wounds from gun fights, and even what might look like an animal bite of some kind.

He also needed to know where exactly he was he knew he was in a town called Absolution but that didn’t tell him anything about the timeline he turned to the woman on the bed.

“Where am I?”

“In a room with me” she said.

He rolled his eyes “I meant location wise.”

“Absolution.”

“In?”

“Texas?”

America...

Okay that helped “what year is it?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Received a bump on the head.”

‘Ah, ‘ she nodded as thought that made complete sense. She told him that the year was 1867.

‘Wow... ‘

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”