Shadows At Dawn: Chapter 1
A novelette of duty, witchcraft and family
Tales Of The Frontier started with a novelette called Shadows At Dawn I published back in 2016 about two cowboys in a supernatural setting.
When I finished writing it, I remember feeling there was a hell of a lot more to the characters' stories. It inspired me to keep creating.
Here I’ll be publishing the chapters of Shadow At Dawn weekly and for ongoing lore and world-building, be sure to sign up to the Tales Of The Frontier newsletter.
Chapter 1: SORROW
When the noose was placed around the witch’s neck she didn’t laugh or cry for mercy. She stared with cold defiance at the crowd who’d gathered in the main square.
The silver manacles clasped to her wrists stopped her from casting any spells, though Rueben remained vigilant even as he tightened the rope. He doubted she would’ve tried anything, but he could feel Pa’s eyes on him so he furrowed his brow and looked sufficiently dour.
In truth, the case unsettled him. Not enough to prevent him from doing his duty, for the witch had already sealed her fate by killing the owner of the local saloon and the sheriff. But he couldn’t bring himself to meet the woman’s gaze as her face kept turning into Maddie’s.
They had the same honey blonde hair and with the morning sunlight flashing around him, Rueben couldn’t shake the comparison out of his head. He finished securing the rope and pulled down his hat so he didn’t have to look at the witch anymore.
The mayor of the town stepped up onto the creaky platform, hands pressed to the lapels of his crinkled suit jacket. He was a portly man and his bristy handlebar moustache did little to hide the fleshy jowls dangling from his chin. The mayor launched into a speech about the wickedness of the female spirit that Rueben barely listened to.
The heat and dust of the day made him feel uncomfortable and droplets of sweat ran down his neck. All he could think about was the possibility of Maddie swinging from a noose, of their boy Charlie growing up without a mother.
Rueben searched for Pa and found him glaring at the witch on the other side of the platform. The silver chain wrapped around his burly forearm glittered in sharp contrast to the dull black coat, trousers and dark shotgun chaps of his Quester uniform.
The yellow rowan tree crest sewn onto the breast pocket added a splash of colour. Gunmetal grey hair streaked from beneath his hat, matching the harsh blue-grey of his eyes. He was the most dedicated man Rueben had ever known, and the guilt burned like bile in his throat every time he tried to reconcile his lessons with what he felt in his heart.
“....Thanks to the brave efforts of young McNab honest townfolk can breathe a little easier.” The mayor droned on. “We must all be wary in these dark times, for the wicked walk amongst us. But the wicked shall fall before the righteous...”
The sermon continued until the mayor turned expectantly to Rueben to pass the sentence. He moved to the centre of the platform and forced himself to stare at the witch. She still hadn’t said anything. Her face contained the same frosty indifference that sucked the warmth out of the air.
Rueben kicked out the stool she’d been standing on and her legs flailed. The full weight of her body hung from the rope, strangling her slowly. The witch made hideous gasping noises, but Rueben didn’t see anymore because he was already striding away from the platform.
The crowd parted for him and he crossed the square, heading for the saloon called The Learned Mule. His chestnut mare was tied up to a post outside and he patted her flank. He opened up one of the saddlebags and rummaged around. Conscious that Pa hadn’t left the platform, he took out a spherical green witch bottle etched with ancient runes and put it into a coat pocket. He also unwound his chain from another bag.
Then, Rueben dug through his coin pouch and found the rusty copper coin Maddie had enchanted so she’d always know where he was. It was a small, inconspicuous thing that he closed his hand around and squeezed, taking comfort in the act. He pocketed the coin and rejoined Pa on the platform where they stood watch for the next thirty minutes as the witch choked.
All of it was for show of course, a spectacle to calm the fears of folk who’d had their wholesome small town lives tainted by evil. The real work started as soon as night fell.
The crowd died away bit by bit until no one remained in the square except Rueben and Pa. Together they loosened the rope and the witch dropped lifelessly onto the chipped wooden beams. Rueben tied his chain around her body to ensure she was bound, removed the manacles and attached them to his belt. Rueben hefted the witch over his shoulder and secured her to the back of his mare with extra ropes. They went to the mayor’s office, collected their payment and rode out of town with the noon sun beating down against them.
The Frontier stretched out into an arid wilderness of dry bushes, rocky outcrops and flat, open plains. Rueben rode beside Pa, hoping the sound of galloping hooves would be enough to deafen his troubled thoughts. Long silences were common, as Pa trusted him to do his job without needing to think about it and Pa never said anything unless it was important.
After a couple of hours they stopped to rest the horses in a gulch walled by conifers and ironwoods. A small creek flowed blue and clear and Rueben crouched to refill his cateen. Pa was staring at the trussed up witch, her body drooped and motionless.
“You took your time retrieving your chain,” Pa said, his voice rough and commanding.
Rueben put the top on his canteen and stood up. “I wanted to make sure I was prepared.” He took the witch bottle out of his pocket.
Pa scrutinised the bottle and his craggy face lost its severity. “Good lad. Make sure you put it to good use while I’m gone.”
“You’re not coming with me?”
“The High Quester’s called a Summit in Black Rock.”
Rueben nodded. A Summit was something that couldn’t be overlooked, though he wondered why Pa had kept quiet about it.
“It have anything to do with the Cartwrights?” Rueben asked.
“It’s always about the fucking Cartwrights,” Pa spat into the earth. “I want information from that bitch before you finish her. See if she knows anything that can put us in the right direction. Join me in Black Rock when you’re done.”
Pa climbed up onto his horse and tried to take hold of the reins. His hands quivered and he let go as if scorched by some unseen presence. He closed his eyes, opening and flexing his palms slowly.
“Pa!” Rueben moved to get the special salve from his pack.
“I’m fine,” Pa stopped him dead with a tone that brooked no argument. “I’m fine.”
He grabbed the reins and snapped them with a resounding crack. Rueben watched him until he was little more than a dark speck against the endless prairies.
Rueben rode south, passing through gullies and racing over barley fields tinted gold. He came to rest beneath a hill called Witching Hollow surrounded by a ring of pine trees. He set the witch down in the middle of the clearing and waited for the light to fade.
The enchanted coin in his pocket felt as heavy as his heart, but it didn’t stop him from taking it out and twirling it between his fingers. Pa’s orders echoed in his head, pulling him north towards Black Rock, but the coin beckoned him further south to the Evernight Marsh where Maddie and Charlie were waiting for him.
He had to believe they would see each other again, that once he took care of this final thing for Pa that he’d go to them and they’d leave this life behind.
The scent of pine leaves brushed over Rueben, smelling just as Maddie did on the first day they met. It clung to her like a fog as she’d dragged him, half-dead, out of the woods and away from the wolves old Agnus Cartwright had sicced on his trail.
Rueben opened his eyes to darkness. The evening had crept in, painting the sky a deep purple. A faint wind rolled across the clearing, buffeting around the witch. The wind became stronger, whipping up a small vortex of dandelion seeds and scattering them into the breeze.
It turned into the sound of shallow breathing, slow and hollow at first, getting louder by the second. Then, a single, sharp gasp reverberated around the clearing and the witch returned to life.
She coughed and spluttered, as if she’d been pulled violently from the the bottom of a lake. Rueben moved closer, confident his chain would stop her shedding her skin and fleeing.
He thought about leading with the ‘foul creature, reveal thy wicked intentions’ speech, but he was in a hurry and he’d never been one for pomp and ceremony.
“We both know you ain’t going nowhere so you might as well answer my questions.”
The witch’s breathing calmed. She lifted her head and snorted.
“Not you again. Can’t you blackcoats just let me be. Or does it make you feel powerful to watch a helpless woman suffer?”
“Cut the shit and tell me what you know about the Cartwright clan.”
The witch shuffled her body, trying to stretch as much as the chain would allow. “Hard as it is to believe, not all of us are in league with each other. The Cartwrights are no kin of mine.”
Her answer surprised him, mostly because she was being cooperative. Witches he’d interrogated in the past had tried all sorts of tricks and misdirection. The witch must have sensed his hesitation because she was smiling condescendingly. She looked less like Maddie in the dark, her hair wasn’t as lustrous, her face too narrow.
“If that surprises you then you’re even dumber than I thought,” the witch said. “All you men are alike. You believe you have the right to take anything without consequence.”
Rueben heard a bitterness in her voice that ate away at what little patience he had left to spare. The anger flared up before he could stop it. “A murderer is not going to preach to me about fucking consequence! You killed two innocent men and now you’ll answer for your crimes.”
The witch laughed, but there was an empty quality to it. She forced herself to sit up, the links of the chain rattling around her.
“Innocent. No one is innocent. I’ve practiced my craft in isolation for years, never harming a soul. I came into town to stock up on medicinal supplies and paid for a room in the saloon. The owner took a fancy to me and when I said I wasn’t interested he came to my room in the middle of the night. That animal...forced himself on me and I defended myself. When that self-righteous sheriff found me he drew his gun and I did what I had to do.”
She was loud enough that her words filled the clearing, smothering the rage inside of Rueben that was quickly being replaced by a profound sense of disquiet.
The witch’s glare was as hard and unforgiving as it’d been in the square - it was challenging him, daring him to say something to justify himself. But Rueben was silent and the absence of noise stretched across the clearing until the witch spoke again.
“Go ahead. Finish what you started this morning. Feel like an honourable man.”
Rueben grasped his witch bottle and muttered an incantation. The runes glowed, creating an eerie blue light that flashed in a miasma of colour.
The witch’s features contorted in pain and the light became more intense, gleaming as brilliantly as a star. Rueben continued chanting until a white smog burst from the witch’s mouth, her essence being forcibly pulled from her body. It was absorbed into the bottle and the light faded, plunging the hill side into blackness.
Rueben put the bottle into his pocket and removed his chain from the withered husk lying in the grass. He returned to his mare and raced away from the Witching Hollow, wanting to put as much distance between himself and a life that no longer made sense.