“Alright, you monkeys.”

  Logan Denton stood before the three young Six-Guns as the first light of the sun lit up the Eastern Horizon. It would have been a beautiful sight to Calvin’s eyes, the sunrise at this elevation, if he wasn’t standing before not one, but two torture masters of the Posse. Logan and Crickett both looked as rested as ever, even considering their lack of sleep. The group had been up into the late hours of the night telling stories of old times, but both older Six-Guns were unphased. For John, Calvin and Buster it was different. This was the least amount of sleep each one had gotten. It was about to become the most they would have in a long time, as promised.

  “Welcome to Hell.” Logan smirked, the fresh sunlight behind him casting his face into a silhouette. Only the Resolute gleam of his eyes could be seen.

  The sun had come up a little more by the time Elise emerged from her tree house, clad in a long grey night gown. She yawned, her blonde curls tangled, as she tried to process the mountain morning scene before her. The boys, her partner and his team, were all on the ground doing pushups. They were grunting as they struggled. This was late morning, and they had been at their exercises since dawn. She could see that they had already exerted themselves into exhaustion, but there was no sign of reprieve from their trainer, standing over them with his arms crossed.

  “The first thing a proper Six-Gun needs is total control of his own body. Anything less will get you killed!” Logan barked at them, “Faster now! More crisply! You stop and I’ll whoop you senseless!”

  All three of them huffed and groaned, faces red, sweating onto the grass. They were fully dressed, hats and all, just pushing away at the ground. Calvin looked to John, still pushing himself up and down. His eyes gave away the desperation of his struggle. Every muscle in his core, his legs, shoulders and arms were burning. He was in a state of pure pain and fatigue already, and the day had only just begun. Silently, his eyes asked John if this was worth it. John, similarly burnt out, returned the look. He did not take on his strong, confident demeanor. He was likewise asking if this was worth what it would get him. Buster looked between them, with juice still in the tank. Rodeo Clowns were hardy and tough, this had not taken him as close to his limit as it had his teammates.

  “Look at them go, Mavis. They’re already at it.” Elise leaned on the wood railing of the tree house.

  Mavis floated over to her with a pronounced yawn, wiping at her eyelashes. Her vision came into focus and she gasped. “Oh, you’re right! This is fun…”

  Her eyes traveled over the sweating rodeo clown, his form crisp and seemingly perpetual. She relished the tightening of his shoulders and arms as he pushed himself off the ground.

  “Down, girl.” Elise snickered. “It’s not even breakfast. You got problems.”

  Mavis flicked her hand, her body now draped in her normal attire, “That’s a good point, Elise. We oughta run down the breakfast situation.”

  “I agree.” Elise followed suit, her hair and outfit done perfectly with a simple hex. “What do the adults have for us?”

  She then turned to the Bootknife and shouted, “Hey old man! You got breakfast for a couple of hungry ladies? Huh?”

  “I don’t see any ladies!” Logan returned, “But I do have biscuits made up on the blacktop, with gravy. That’s a Six-Gun meal, think it’s up to royal standards?”

  Logan was in good spirits, having begun his special training program alongside the old sage. He had prepared enough food for the witches as well. Logan’s demeanor was sunny enough to offset his jab, to Elise, and she floated down to him without a fight.

  “I like it. But what do you have the guys doing?”

  “Well, it’s physical training. For a Six-Gun, a honed body is as important as a honed mind. They’ll be killed by anything with any magical power if they’re slouches. The two often go hand in hand anyhow. So I’m gonna beat them into a top form. They been at this since sunup.”

  “Damn. You’re a brutal teacher.” Elise shrugged, infinitely more interested in breakfast. “So what’s the deal with the biscuits and gravy?”

  “Over there with Crickett” Logan jabbed his thumb backward, “Leave some for the guys. It’s about time for their breakfast too. I’m glad you girls had a good sleep.”

  The sage Crickett was already digging into the biscuits and gravy with a fork and knife. His lanky form hunched over a makeshift table, he mowed down on breakfast. Uno sat next to him, uninterested in human food.

  “Hey, witches. Did you sleep good?” He tried to engage with them.

  “Great, in fact” Mavis smiled, “Even better knowing we were safe up here with you and the Guns. You’re cool!”

  The mushroom man rubbed his neck, “Oh, thank you… it was nothing.”

  “How come the old man has no partner witch?” Elise asked as she spooned white peppery gravy onto an open biscuit.

  Crickett laughed, chewing on his breakfast, “I’m from before the time of your partnership. None of you ladies can match the Resolve I put out anyhow.”

  “Is that really true? We are stronger than you think.” Elise huffed.

  “But not as strong as YOU think. I am a man who has studied magic for over eighty years. There are none among your ranks with my experience. Do not mistake my casual nature for ignorance, Lady of the Emerald Lake. You ain’t the first of your kind to test my patience.”

  Elise blinked, stunned by the audacity of the Sage. However, she had witnessed his power firsthand. She was not about to try him.

  Crickett continued, “Usually, you girls make pacts to hunt monsters and the like with our kind. I am no hunter anymore. I only study up here. So there’s no benefit to any Coven witch to make a pact with me. Make sense?”

  “Yeah, it makes sense alright.” Elise nodded, “Thanks, old sage.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Crickett snickered. “It’s still great that the youngins have you. Back in my day, we finished a job and just had to leave the Earth all messed up. Resolve is not a fix-all for magical problems. There’s a lot of hexes that your Covens can fix which I simply can’t. And I would know, I tried.”

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  Elise chewed on some biscuit as she listened. It was nice to hear about their partnership from that perspective. She had been taught a lot about Resolve, but one thing that was still unclear was the limitations of the system. Her partner was at the beginning of his journey, he hardly had any power at all. Logan was impressive, his magic far stronger than hers, but even he didn’t represent the upper level of their order. Here was a sage, by all rights one of the strongest of the Gunslingers she could be expected to come across, and even he conceded that his power was not enough to keep things together without the help of the Covens. That gave her a gust of confidence.

  “This is only the start of today’s activities.” Logan appeared to revel in his position, “We are gonna run up and down this mountain after some breakfast. You guys take five and get some food.”

  All three young Guns collapsed onto the dirt. Calvin lay with his arms out in front of him, looking to Buster.

  “Oh shit…” He panted, “My arms are screaming.”

  “Mine can’t even move. I’ve been disarmed.” The clown shot Calvin a smug grin.

  “I hate you.”

  Logan cut back in, holding a pocket watch. “Alright, five minutes. Get up, and get to running.”

  “But we didn’t even have any of the food!” Buster shifted to look up at him, “And I haven’t said good morning to Mavis yet.”

  “I gave you five minutes, cowpoke. Now start running, or I’ll whoop you like the dogs you are!” Logan’s voice took on a ferocious tone.

  John picked himself up, still trying to catch his breath. “Where…. Where to…”

  “That’s where he comes in.” Logan pointed to Uno, “You will follow Uno up and down the mountain.”

  The mushroom man stood up and walked over to them, his boots clacking on the rocks. Uno smiled at them.

  “OK, let’s begin.”

  Calvin could not believe the stress his body was in as he ran back up the mountain. The run down had been a steady jog, the three boys following Uno as he trot in winding patterns to avoid rocks or drops. It was taxing to come down, but it was downhill. Going back up was way different. His breaths came in large, hoarse gasps. His arms sounded the alarm with every movement and his legs felt like they would give out at any moment.

  He looked to the mushroom man in front of him. Uno had moved at a metronomic pace all the way down, and had not deviated on the way up. His legs and arms repeated movements crisply and cleanly, like some kind of automaton. It was uncanny, he never seemed to get tired or exert himself. He seemed just the same as when they started. Calvin pressed on, trying to will his legs to continue.

  “I think I’m gonna die…” Buster hustled up next to him. His arms were hanging as he ran. “I wanted breakfast.”

  Cal huffed, “I did too. We messed up.”

  “Hey, is John Boy ok? He hasn’t spoken at all since we started.”

  Cal looked to John, who was a few steps ahead of them. He pushed on, panting like a horse, but he was otherwise silent. Sweat darkened his shirt and dripped off his blonde hair. Calvin understood, he got the picture. This was what John had to do. He didn’t have a choice, just as he said.

  Calvin felt very far away from John in that moment. He and John were nothing alike, in terms of upbringing. This was a boy from a big house, with a big family. There was a lot on his shoulders. The weight of his name was immense, and John had been carrying that weight from a very young age. Of course he was determined, of course he would run up and down the mountain without a second thought. This was his lot in life as a Calhoun, with all its luxuries and all its horrors.

  “I think he’s fine.” Cal spoke in between breathes, “He’s still hurt, I bet. We gotta let him dig in and get to business.”

  “I hate this business.” The rodeo clown coughed.

  The route back up was a slog. Each bend around the boulders and trees had Calvin growing more and more impatient. The summer sun gave them a merciless helping of Tennessee heat. The buzzing of the bugs, calls of birds, and overwhelming sound of his own breathing filled his ears. He was wheezing, sputtering, and coughing. It was an oppressive sound, grating on his nerves. Calvin had become more aggravated at this torture than anything else. The sight of that damned mushroom man just chugging away, unphased, was bringing Cal to a boil.

  He had to stop seething and check himself. He had signed up for this, gladly, and it was only day one. Logan had been very clear that this was Hell, he hadn’t misled them at all. Cal found himself staring at John, trying to think of what he was feeling. It had to be hard for him, he thought, the pressure to succeed in October. Thinking of John pulled Calvin through the hellish trek up the mountain.

  When they reached the peak, Logan was up there reading from a letter. He sat on the tree stump. The witches were nowhere to be found. Calvin collapsed on the ground, wheezing. His vision was blurry, his head pounding. Buster ate it next to him, flopping onto his back. John stood, legs shaking, staring at Logan grimly.

  “Shit fire!” Logan bared his teeth, “There’s that Calhoun menace. I’m damned impressed.”

  John coughed a bit, looking briefly to Uno. “He’s amazing. I can’t believe that a person can be made from mushroom.”

  “Well, believe it.” Crickett said from his meditation spot. He sat cross-legged, with his hands folded in his lap. “Through Resolve, so much of nature can be unlocked.”

  “That’s your next lesson, boys.” Logan butt in. “You need to rest a bit, eat, and then you can sit with Crickett and train your Resolve. You did your physical training for the day.”

  “I can’t believe we made it.” Buster panted, “Where’s Mavis? I’m sure she’s mad I didn’t say hi.”

  “The girls are down the mountain. They have to study and practice too.” Logan waved a hand.

  Cal looked over to Buster, a little envy slipping in. The negative thoughts dispersed as a new curiosity overtook him.

  He sat up slowly, “Hey Buster. How come your face paint doesn’t run with all the sweat?”

  Calvin had noticed that Buster’s clown makeup, a dull white face paint from his chin to the top of his forehead, had not been degraded or eroded by the exertion and sweat. It looked almost like a tattoo, or a dye coating his skin. It didn’t seem caked on at all.

  The clown looked back to him, “Oh, I thought I might’ve mentioned it. We don’t use paint like our circus cousins. Rodeo Clowns have their paint applied with a hex. Gimme a second.”

  Buster tried for a moment to pick himself up, straining against the ground. He finally lifted himself onto his knees, which trembled with exhaustion.

  “Check it out.” He ran his hand slowly over his face, seeming to wipe the paint off. It was like an illusionist swiping his hand back and forth to reveal a hidden item.

  Calvin blinked, having never seen Buster without paint before. It was a little uncanny to see him as a normal guy. Even still, he was a good-looking young man with nice even features and tan skin. Buster swiped his hand back down and the face paint returned, almost exactly as it had been.

  “Well, you learn something new every day.” Cal slowly processed what he was seeing.

  “I do that little number when I want to face off against an opponent!” Buster still managed a joke. “Get it?”

  The boys all gathered around their teacher and took some bowls of beans. They devoured the mushy beans like ravenous creatures, not speaking between bites. Logan watched them with a soft smile, remembering his own youth on the trail with all its hasty, wordless meals.

  Cal felt the warm beans hit his gut like a brick, Logan was hardly a decent cook, but the young Gun didn’t care. The meal was worth it, it felt so good to rest and take in some food. His anger from before had melted and all was right in the world again, besides his aching body. The pain was dying down, however. It was a little unusual to him how easily he was recovering.

  John wiped his mouth, “You put something in this stuff.”

  “I did.” Logan sat back, “Gotta help y’all out a little bit, right?”

  “There’s really some kind of ingredient for everything.” The aspiring Calhoun looked down at what appeared to be a normal bowl of baked pinto beans.

  Logan rubbed his hand on his coat, “It’s more Alchemy, like the whiskey and cigars. It’s a tool that’s been used for thousands of years to progress humanity beyond its primitive form. Just so happens that we live in a country where the land has just about every kind of alchemical ingredient you could want in spades. It was men like Grady and Crickett over there who adapted this ancient knowledge for American use. I’m not gonna have you boys smoking and drinking, but I can put some stuff in the food.”