Crickett continued to throw pebbles at them for the next few hours. Calvin found himself slowly adapting to the Critical Moments, feeling more comfortable when they came. The three had some narrow misses, and Calvin was hit in the arm by one of the pebbles, but he was dodging them left and right. John too, felt more confident that afternoon than he ever had before.

  The sun began to set, dimming the bright colors of the Tennessee sky. Calvin plopped onto one of the overturned logs at camp, letting out a breath. He closed his eyes, feeling the mountain breeze. Part of him wanted to go Resolute, take in the peace and serenity of the evening, but he hardly had any Resolve left after holding it up so long. He was nearing his limit, not quite taking on a headache, but ready to stop. He decided to enjoy the evening air with his five senses instead.

  “I’m ready for bed!” Buster sat down next to Calvin. His clothes were a little dusty, and he looked roughed up, but he had on a big grin as usual. “I feel like I just ran two marathons.”

  Logan stepped over, “Oh we ain’t done yet, not even close.”

  “Oh, more pushups I hope!” Buster nudged Calvin.

  “Nope. High time you boys learned how to handle the pistols on your hips.”

  That immediately caught their attention. All three of them sat up a bit. Calvin tried to muster excitement, but he was too exhausted. He was more apathetic than anything else, at this point.

  “Sounds great.” He nodded, “But I don’t know how much left I have in the tank, Teach. Really, I don’t.”

  “Aw I suppose even wild animals get tired.” Logan spat onto the ground, “Well good thing I already thought about that. I got y’all some Six-Gun Diesel Fuel.”

  John’s eyes widened, catching Calvin’s attention. He definitely knew what Six-Gun Diesel Fuel was.

  “Do I even wanna ask?” Calvin sounded almost defeated.

  Logan gestured to a coffee pot propped up above the campfire. The three boys walked over to it, Logan lifting the lid. What waited for them was a slowly simmering pit of black liquid. It wasn’t dark brown, like normal coffee, it was entirely devoid of color. Were it not for the slight reflection of the firelight on the surface, and the bubbles along the edge of the pot, it wouldn’t have looked like liquid at all. It appeared as a void in the pot, a hole to some far-off place.

  “Not the Diesel…” John groaned.

  “So you’re familiar, I take it.” Logan snickered, “Yes the Diesel. We are going right on through the night. Very little time for sleep now.”

  “We will be up for days.” John too sounded defeated.

  “That’s the point. We are gonna power through this training, trust me.” Logan grinned wolfishly.

  The boys each took their tin cups and poured some of the liquid. Steam rose from the cup, delivering an earthen smell to Calvin’s nose.

  “Six-Gun Diesel Fuel is alchemical coffee, grown by the Plaids in an island in the Caribbean.” Logan told them, “They don’t even tell us how it’s made. It used to be called Khizi, But in recent years they just call it Diesel. This stuff is full of stimulants, it will strengthen your senses and bolster your Resolve. It’s great. I once hunted down an Arizona Devil Walker off this stuff. I had to stay awake for an entire week trying to bait it to strike. Diesel didn’t fail me.”

  Calvin looked back down, put the cup to his lips and tipped his head back. He gulped down the thick, bitter coffee. The sensation hit him almost immediately. He could feel all of his nerves surging, all the hairs on his arms and legs stood up straight. His body started to hum with life again. He started to shake a bit, breathing out. Everything became clearer, each blade of grass in the shrinking evening light, every smoky aroma from the fire, and the sound of every night bird’s call in the ridges around them. He had never felt this way, it was a total flow state.

  Calvin took a step back and collapsed onto a knee. He was struggling to process the world around him on the Diesel. Everything came in clearly, slowly, as if he was zooming past other automobiles on the highway. His hands and legs shook a bit as the headache completely subsided. He looked to John, who was stuck by a similar sensation. The two locked eyes, both looking wired from the Diesel.

  “You good?” John asked him, as if he himself was not looking so crazed.

  Calvin swallowed, “Holy moly, John… Have… you ever had it before?”

  “No, seen my brothers drink it. It’s damned vile.”

  “I think I know how the witches feel when they see my little, er, thingy.”

  “Your curse?” Buster put a hand on his back for balance, himself doubled over with the sensation. “I doubt they see your thingy, man.”

  Calvin couldn’t stifle even a chuckle as the laughter rise through his chest. He had to admit the joke was good, he needed it after the day he had. John and Buster both laughed with him. A genuine feeling of brotherhood came over Calvin, who had never had any siblings. He wondered if it was the coffee hitting him, but he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face if he tried. John too was grinning. This was the first time Cal had seen him smile since the incident with the Willerbee boy.

  Logan sipped some Diesel, a bittersweet feeling coming on as he observed his students. They reminded him yet again of his youth, something none of the young Guns he had flunked out could ever come close to. He wondered how things might have turned out if he had just given them a chance as well. Those kinds of thoughts were better left behind, he decided.

  “Alright.” Logan stepped forward, “You keep those pistols at your hips, loaded, but you don’t yet know how to use them properly. Kinda ironic, ain’t it?”

  The Bootknife trot over to the clearing, his three boys following with newfound energy and concentration. Each one had their guns in leather holsters on their belts, even during their intense run up and down the mountain.

  Logan stopped and faced them again, “So we are called Six-Guns because of the six-shot revolver pistols we carry. They’re uniquely American inventions, a product of all the hardship and hatred of the American condition, just like us.”

  John stared at Logan as he spoke, finding he was able to better follow his teacher on the Diesel than without it.

  “That being said, we ought to use them right.” Logan continued, “So, Gunslinger Grady gathered the combined knowledge of the legends of his time, and developed what’s called the Viper School of Gunslinging. It is a special set of techniques which let the Sorcerer-Gunslinger connect completely to the pistol on his hip, and act with such quickness and precision that nobody can beat him. John and Buster, you’ve definitely heard of it.”

  Calvin looked to his compatriots, who both nodded.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “The Rodeo Clowns all talk about it.” Buster told him, “I was hoping we would get a good teacher like the Bootknife.”

  Logan brought his attention forward again, “Cal, I’m sure old Daddy Dearest ain’t told you shit about it, judging from what you appear to know and not know.”

  Cal pursed his lips, “Yeah, nothing. Sorry guys.”

  “Well you oughta know that Clubs like you are often really well versed in the Viper. The Southpaw doesn’t disappoint, Baird won our competition in ’34. Most of the time Clubs take the gold on speed and trick shots, so I’m confident you’ll catch on as quick as the others.” Logan waved a hand dismissively.

  “I know very little about it myself.” John looked to Calvin, “You’re not supposed to learn until you get a teacher like him. So we’re actually in the same boat, man.”

  “Alright shut up, you monkeys!” Shouted the Bootknife, “Listen. I can’t teach you all in one night I hope you get that. Today I want you to just pull out your pistols and clean them. On the stump over there, take them apart and clean them.”

  “What! No shooting?” Buster looked like he had been shot himself.

  “No shooting yet, you’re hardly qualified to hold the fucking things, ya know.”

  This earned groans of aggravation from all three of the younger Guns. An inquisitive Uno looked over, having ascended the mountain with a fresh supply of water and Elixir, among other items needed by the camp. He raised his eyebrow, genuinely curious about the pistol handling of the Posse. Crickett rarely, if ever, pulled his handgun. His study of Resolve had continued in peace for decades. Uno had never actually seen a Six-Gun in action with a pistol.

  The three made their way to the wide stump, Calvin finding it a suitable work surface. Logan drew his own pistol, a brilliant, gleaming work of Gellerite and Ceder wood. With a sharp flick of the hand he unloaded the cylinder, tossing six bullets into the air and snapping them up with his other hand. The motions were subtly complex, taking place within a second. Calvin couldn’t even follow how he did it. Logan then began disassembling the weapon. The boys watched him pull the tool rod located under the barrel. Every fastener in the weapon was secured using a bit pattern which resembled a six-pointed star. The end of the special tool rod was cast in this exact shape, allowing the pistol to be fully stripped in the field without any other tools.

  “Why the odd shape screws?” Calvin asked, following Logan’s steps with his own pistol.

  “It’s a Grady Star.” Logan replied, “The six-pointed star is the Grady Star, it’s a symbol for the philosophy of a complete Six-Gun.

  “Looks a little like the Star of David.”

  “Same shape, only it’s filled in. It means something way different. Guess I could give you donkeys a primer on the the Six Points.”

  The boys all stripped their pistols, fiddling in the dark with the screws. Logan watched them as they did. He had picked this time to start the pistol training because the low light world force them to memorize the steps and motions a little better, or so he believed. He had been forced to service his own pistol in complete darkness many times, it felt right to train this way.

  “The Six Points.” Logan puffed on a cigar as he looked over their labor, “These are the tenets Grady taught his Posse. Point One you boys should know pretty well, Body. You need to make sure your bodies can keep up in a fight. That’s why I got y’all working like the dogs you are.”

  “Oh great…” groaned the Rodeo Clown, “I love that…”

  Logan took a little screw from Buster’s dismantled pistol and tossed it into the grass, earning a look of horror from the Clown. In the waning daylight, it would be impossible to see.

  “Point Two, Eye.” He smirked, “Our eyes glow when we go Resolute, ever wondered about that? Resolve Sorcery has a lot to do with your eyes. To see the unseen, the Currents, and to be completely aware of the situation you’re in. Perception, in short. Case and point that screw. It’s made of Gellerite. If you go Resolute, you ought to be able to catch a bit of your Resolve still latent within the screw and find it in darkness.”

  Just as he said, Buster was able to locate the tiny fastener with Resolve. Still salty, he kept his comments to himself as he went back to work.

  “Point Three, Fortification.” Added Logan, “That’s simple. Inner Alchemy. With substances, we fortify our bodies, our minds, our Resolve. It is more than that though. Gellerite pistols are an example of Fortification, a substance which gives us an edge. Special pistol rounds with silver and such count too. But I’d say the Diesel is a great example. I’m sure you’re all still buzzed over it.”

  Calvin found himself agreeing with the Bootknife. He was wired, his focus clean and hands steady.

  “Point Four; Gunmanship. The Viper, I explained that earlier. That’s a no-brainer. We are gonna get you all shooting proper. Point Five is Rite. Like the Rite of Release, these are our hand signs which align our Resolve Pathways to allow us to access and manipulate our energy better. Crickett will teach you about this.”

  “And Point Six?” Cal scratched at his neck.

  “Point Six is Technique. Resolute Technique, Resolve Spells, whatever people call them these days. These are manifestations of your Resolve which result in changes to the world around you and shifts in the Currents. We don’t have time to get into that before October. Most Guns don’t learn a proper spell by your age anyhow, except heritage guns like Cobb who get it passed down.”

  All three trainees took in the information in quiet. John hadn’t been schooled on this yet, he wondered why his father never told him. A creeping thought broke his concentration as he remembered asking his dad about Resolve years ago. His father had told him that there was no sense teaching him much of anything until he passed the Trial. Knowing now what that entailed, John retroactively interpreted the comment with a grim fatalism.

  “Body, Eye, Fortification, Gunmanship, Rite, Technique. These are the Six Points, they make up the six points of a Grady Star.” Continued Logan, “But there’s a secret seventh, something a bit different. We now know Grady struggled with the idea of teaching this Seventh Point to his Posse. He didn’t know if he wanted us to actually put it into practice. Can’t hurt for me to tell you what it is.”

  “Drinking!” Chimed Buster, “You do a lot of that.”

  “I also do a lot of beating clowns. Should I add that to the list?” The Bootknife glared, “Now listen up! The unofficial Seventh Point is the Heavenly Pillar. This is like a technique, but more devastating in every way. The Heavenly Pillars are the many techniques which hold up the heavens, in the words of the Eastern Masters. Think of it as the ultimate manifestation of a Six-Gun’s Resolve. They take a lifetime of study and manifestation to learn. There’s only three recorded cases of a member of our Posse EVER employing a Heavenly Pillar.”

  “St. Louis.” John blurted. He knew a little bit about the topic, from his father’s many discussions in the reading room with his friends.

  The Bootknife shot him a look which froze him on the spot. He opened his mouth a little, as if to speak, but closed it again. There were no more lectures on the topic for the team.

  Night fell over the mountain like a blanket of darkness, bringing with it the two witches. They were surrounded by bright fireflies who appeared to follow them, lighting their way. Elise floated over to John, leaning over his shoulder. Calvin looked over to her, admiring her stark, tired eyes in silence.

  “What’re you doing, there?”

  John didn’t look back, focusing on his pistol. “Taking apart he gun and cleaning it up.”

  “But you never even shot it yet. Does it need to be cleaned?”

  Logan butt in, pushing a rag through the barrel with the tool rod. “It doesn’t matter if it’s dirty or not. Cleaning the pistol is an act of meditation and discipline for a Six-Gun. We are the guns, cleaning them is cleaning ourselves.”

  “Doesn’t make much sense to me.” Elise rolled her eyes, “But you guys do what you’re gonna do. I’m going to bed.”

  “Thanks for your permission.” John grumbled, “We’ll carry on, my Princess.”

  “Great! Now that’s how you should address me.” She fluffed her hair with her hands, “But next time drop the sarcasm. See you later!”

  The two witches floated off to their tree house. John could hear them giggling.

  “My princess!” Mavis’s voice was barely audible.

  John shook his head a bit. “They all like that, Logan?”

  “No, not at all. Most of them are more like Mavis. Course they all got a temper, in my experience. Some of them are just more mouthy like Elise.”

  “Where’s your partner witch?” John looked up.

  Logan snickered, now puffing a cigar, “Been meaning to ask me that a while, I take it?”

  “We gotta know.” Buster had expertly assembled his gun a few times over by now, to Calvin’s shock.

  “I don’t really wanna go into details. Let’s just say she and I were close before, but some stuff happened and she released me from my Pact.”

  “That coven witch said something about St. Louis.” Buster added, deftly disassembling his gun. “Did that have something to do with it?”

  “Enough.” Logan’s tone changed sharply. “Any of you fucking ingrates mentions St. Louis to me again and I’ll smack you into next week.”

  The four Guns continued to disassemble, clean, and assemble their pistols well into the early hours of the morning. Nobody spoke another word four hours. Uno watched on until he couldn’t stay up anymore and went to his tent. Calvin didn’t feel tired, even though his hands were shaking from the exertion. He still had so much energy from the Diesel.

  “Alright, monkeys.” Logan stood up, slotting all six rounds into the open cylinder and swinging it shut in one motion. He swiped at it once it was in place, listening to the healthy rattle of the mechanism. “Pushups, let’s go.”

  The boys groaned and got down on the ground. The cycle of the day’s training had begun again, without a wink of sleep.