Chapter 5

It seemed ta me that those Nigger soldiers was doin' right well fer themselves, but a few could git themselves killed ifen I didn't chip in with a contribution of my own. The most obvious way I could help was ta take out them Comanche war chiefs. Without the war chiefs, the rest of the Injuns would stop the fight 'til they could get another one or two elected. They might even give up the fight as not bein' worth the effort. Well, I could see two war chiefs, an' they looked like my best bet ta make a solid contribution toward breakin' up this nonsense.

Both chiefs was well out of accurate range for a pistol, but the bullet would kill at that distance ifen I could hit what I aimed at. Therefore, as a further experiment toward seein' what I could do with controllin' a bullet, I decided ta start out with the pistol an' switch ta my Winchester ifen I had ta. I didn't want ta make a big show out of my experiment, so I dismounted afore tryin' ta shoot.

I drew my pistol an' aimed at the first war chief. I fired an' he dropped from his hoss. I was goin' fer my "trade mark" shot fer the heart, an' I guess that was what I hit. The other chief was lookin' around ta see where the bullet had come from, but I popped him, too, afore he could settle on me. Damn! One shot, one bullet, one dead Injun! Shit, a body couldn't ask fer more than that.

Of course, the Comanches didn't stop fightin' immediately. They had ta see that the war chiefs was down afore they would react. A minute or two later, though, was enough time fer one of the braves ta notice that they was down. One of 'em let out a big yell an' rode ta see what had happened. Several others turned ta see what the yell was all about. When they did, they turned, too, an' rode in a bunch ta investigate the demise of the war chiefs.

I thought I would add a little spice ta the discussion by shootin' a few more of the Injuns when they got closer ta the war chiefs. This time, I went fer head-shots, since they was a bit more spectacular, what with blood an' brains sprayin' every which way. Them Injuns really got excited when heads started exploding. I was so far away that they didn't immediately associate me with the carnage, so they must of figured that the demons was after them. The rest of them Injuns took off in all directions when they seen what was goin' on. Some of 'em may still be runnin' ta this day!

I thought I'd have a little fun, so I never rode up ta the Army detachment. I figured I let them dream up an explanation fer what happened. That ought ta be a whole lot more fun than hearin' from me what really happened. I was sure that the officer in charge would come up with a suitably mundane explanation that everybody could believe instead of the miracle that I just performed.

By the way, my hunch or urge must of been associated with this incident, 'cause it left me at this point, an' it was a couple of days afore I felt another one.

I was just outside the little town of Hopper Creek when I suddenly felt a push ta git my ass ta movin' right smartly. I rode inta town, an' the urge wouldn't let up. The trouble was, I couldn't git a fix on what I should do. The town was so tiny that they only had one saloon, an' I went inside, for lack of any other ideas.

I ordered a Mexican beer an' sat down at a table ta enjoy it while I waited fer some more information on what I should do. As was now my habit, I cooled my beer an' leaned back in my chair ta enjoy it. I didn't git a mug ta go along with my beer, soz I was drinkin' it from the bottle. I raised it ta take a swig when a bullet shattered the glass, an' I heard a voice in my head, "Ya Son of a Bitch, ya ain't so powerful as ya thought ya was!"

I didn't know what ta think, but that didn't keep me from divin' under the table an' scannin' around tryin' ta git a fix on the source of the voice. Shit, a whole flock of thoughts flashed through my mind, but, mostly, I wondered why somebody would take a shot at me, an' I wondered who it could be. Whoever it was sure had a good shield up blockin' me from spottin' him.

I ain't never felt the need for that kind of shield for myself, but it seemed like I was gonna need one. Whoever it was, it had ta be a man. I could tell that from the way his voice "sounded." I wondered what the hell was goin' on, 'cause he could have killed me ifen he had wanted ta. About all I knew fer sure was that the shot had come from outside the saloon. The reason was that nobody inside the saloon had reacted ta the sound of a gunshot, an' that could not possibly have been kept a secret inside a building. Even a .22 caliber gun would have made a hell of a racket inside the saloon.

That meant that the shooter must of been able ta see me, 'cause the only way I knew of ta guide a bullet was ta be able ta see the target. It looked like I better check that little assumption out pretty damned quick.

The other real important question was whether or not I had a real enemy at least as powerful as me. It's a cinch that he was just tryin' ta scare me an' not kill me, but was that just ta make me worry afore he killed me. The other possibility was that he was havin' some fun at my expense. Callin' me an SOB was not a strong enough of an insult ta be taken too seriously, so that really didn't make me too mad.

No matter what his intention, he certainly got my attention, an' I was now goin' ta be a lot more careful in my actions. One thin' was fer damned sure: I had ta find him, an' I had ta do it as soon as possible! As a potential enemy, he was too dangerous ta ignore, but, as a potential friend, he was too valuable ta ignore.

My urge, now, was ta leave town an' head north. I don't know why, but I had a hunch that the mysterious stranger had headed in that direction. As I rode out of town, I had half my mind workin' on comin' up with a way ta shield myself from discovery an' the other half workin' on tryin' ta find my nemesis. Hell, I was probably too distracted ta do a decent job with either one!

I was about two miles north of Hopper Creek when I suddenly got a blast of recognition. The man I was chasin' was only about 100 yards in front of me, an' he didn't know that I was this close. I must of got a shield ta workin' without realizin' it; otherwise, he would have spotted me. Also, I must of got a probe or sense constructed ta help me find him without knowin' how I did it. Both thin's was a great boon from my point of view, but I didn't know how he would feel about it.

Well, I wasn't gonna ride inta what might be a fatal trap, soz I pulled off ta the side of the road an' dismounted. I figured ta approach on foot soz he would be less likely ta spot me. Ifen I stayed in the woods, I would be harder ta spot, too.

I didn't want ta kill the man 'til I knew more about him, but I also didn't want ta take any stupid chances. I used all of my woodland skills ta approach my man, friend or enemy, an' hoped that I would not be detected. I had moved in a bit of an arc so that I would come up behind him, hopin' ta catch him by surprise. Just in case, I drew my gun afore I said anything.

"Are ya lookin' fer me?" I had spoken out loud instead of usin' mind-talk as an added way ta catch him by surprise. It must have worked, 'cause he nearly jumped out of his skin at my first word.

"Yes, I am. Please don't shoot until ya've heard me out. I don't want ta die any more than ya do, soz I'm hopin' that ya will talk ta me."

"OK, turn around, but keep yer hands away from yer guns. My name is Jack Hazard. What's yers?"