It was an hour to sunset, his time preferred before Father’s cairn and wonder on that unfathomable wheel.
Asked he: ‘What manner of factoring did you ever do up there, Father?’
He smoked the pipe brought by The Rattler, savored the sweet tobacky from the stump before the tower door. Little patches of snow remained in the shade of the north facing trees. This little place of mind and peace above the drear grove that once upon a time set him on a furious trail, seemed like a heaven to him, what Heaven would be if it were made for people like he.
He turned and looked up across the saddle to the Medicine Wheel and determined to have a walk up there to speak to Father.
The path was easy and gentle and he ambled slowly, not being much for drawing breath any more, determined to have this last smoke of tobacky with Father before his cairn.
His chest burned before he had made the center of the saddle.
Mumbled he: “So be it. I ain’ gonna turn from Father’s place.”
On he teetered, not getting much air into his lungs, holding the pipe down by his side, already deciding that the sky would smoke the last of The Rattler’s tobacco.
He coughed and blood spattered upon the stony saddle trail.
Mused he: ‘Don’t that beat all hell.’
…
It was named Don Station, the furthest post of The Order towards New Spain. To the west stretched the Kansas Plain, central range of the Comanche. The Comanche Territory separated Awes South from Awes West, making Colorado an orphan province under the Priory of Montana, more like to get supplies from New Spain than from New England, a bastion of English Christendom what had to fend for itself ten months of the year. Something in Sergeant Noose tempted him to seek there...
To the east spanned Awes South, protected by The Knights of Saint George—mostly by their rangers.
To the north spanned Awes West pretty much left fallow by the thin-ranked Knights Trace.
To the south spread New Spain. As he manned the bastion with The Knight Slake’s own looking glass, as that terrible man busied himself with a Comanche girl while the priest was saying mass, he spotted a rider.
It was a lone rider coming hard across the rolling plain, staying clear of the creek and the cottonwoods as if something lurked there.
“I’ll be durned—a Don in full brassy kit!”
Don Station was so-named for the fact that it was here that The Order and the Spanish Dons parlayed, and even rodeoed on occasion. This fellow had arrows in one leg and was listing in the saddle. Noose rang the sentry bell and swung down onto the gate pony while Joey Boy and Negro Jack swung open the gate. There was a feint dust cloud following the flagging Don.
Noose kicked heels to the gate pony and inventoried his irons: 2 flints, 2 wheel, Old Issue and a saddle gun.
“O’ Slake Knight, in case there more then six, I’d appreciate you reeling that trouser snake on home...”
That Comanche arrow he took in the left chest rescuing that damned dumbass Don, always burned when he smoked or breathed ice air…
….
As the sky spun above Medicine Wheel Mountain and blood bubbled up to his lips and the old arrow wound burned like the Devil’s own bum, Old Noose, recently mistaken for a sorcerer, gave way to every care, stopped trying to breathe and smiled up into the cool mountain sky, hoping he would see Father’s star there.
…
This ends the open posting of Sorcerer! Or The Acts of Awes West
The remainder of the novel shall be posted on Substack and includes:
Scalp Taker
Scene 15 of The Acts of Awes West
Love Maker
Scene 16 of The Acts of Awes West
Sword Breaker
Scene 17 of The Acts of Awes West
Slave Maker
Scene 18 of The Acts of Awes West
Light Giver
The Final Scene of The Acts of Awes West
Epilogue
End Note on The Medicine Wheel Mountain Codex
