The camp on Crickett’s mountain buzzed as the students gathered around their teachers. Fading daylight danced though shaking tree coverage over the Bootknife, casting shapes onto his black watchcoat.

  “You gotta be kidding me.” Logan stood tall, hands on his hips, “You really wanna go off to the Dance? What about training?”

  “It’s only one day.” Mavis pleaded, “We need to go. Please Mr. Bootknife! I’ll get my dad to write us a note!”

  Logan gave her a flat look. “Mavis, with all due respect your dad is an Eight of Diamonds. He ain’t got a ton of weight to throw around here.”

  “My dad is super cool!” She huffed.

  Logan sighed, “Look, I like Isaac, I think he’s cool too. But he hasn’t done this kind of training, Mavis. It takes dedication. I told the boys their behinds would belong to me until Hallows Eve.”

  The others in the group stood behind Mavis. John figured her calm, sweet approach would work best on their teacher. He was promptly reminded that the Bootknife was a heartless hard-ass who couldn’t care less about anything but his goals.

  “Logan, we’ve been working our asses off. I bet I can show you we are far enough ahead to take the day off.” John stepped forward.

  “Oh you got some nuts on you huh?” Logan grunted, “Boy I will smack your ass into the last century if you think your shit don’t stink. You hear me?”

  “I think you’re all talk.” John channeled his Calhoun confidence, speaking with conviction. “You and me, if I can prove I’m doing good you let us go to the dance. Deal?”

  Having seen Logan fight in brutal fashion, John knew he stood no chance. The point wasn’t to win, for him, it was to show he was serious about the topic. At least, John hoped that Logan would see things that way before twisting him into a pretzel.

  Logan couldn’t fight a smirk. He liked to see his boys come into some gumption. “Why you trying to go anyhow? I pegged you as the last guy to up and go romantic. That’s for Buster and Calvin. And one of them don’t even got a date to the fuckin’ thing.”

  Cal leveled a flat look at him. He felt like he didn’t deserve the stray. It was true, he didn’t have a date. There wasn’t a witch who would go with him. He had tried to keep himself blissfully ignorant of that fact. The Bootknife was too sharp to let that one slide.

  ‘Suck it up. Suck it up. Suck it up’ He thought.

  “You sound scared.” John had decided on antagonism, “Why don’t you just say yes? Afraid of a Calhoun?”

  Meanwhile, Team Smallmouth approached their teacher over the idea.

  “Hey teach, can we hit the dance on Saturday? Maybe make up for it on Sunday?” Teddy stepped forward.

  “Sure thing.” Smallmouth smiled, “Ya’ll been working so hard, you deserve it! I’ll go too, might ask Miss Adelie if she wants to take a smelly fisherman to the Barn Fire.”

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  The witches giggled a bit, thinking of the athletic ranch hand Plaidshirt called Miss Adelie. On more than one occasion, they had caught Smallmouth tending to his horse Tremor, when he really didn’t need to, and asking advice of the woman in plaid.

  “She likes you for sure.” Wendy grinned, “Trust us, Mr. Smallmouth, we can tell she would like to dance with you.”

  “Aw thank you, girls.” He snickered, “I might have time to carve her something neat. Lot of good wood laying around out here.”

  Calvin couldn’t help but notice the difference between the two elder guns. An odd thought struck him. He wondered if Smallmouth completed his paperwork on time. He had to snicker at the idea. His attention was brought back as Logan hit John with a mean right hook to the jaw. This sent the boy down onto his rear, groaning in pain.

  “There’s a world where I might be afraid of a Calhoun.” Logan rubbed his knuckles, “But it sure as shit ain’t you.”

  John glared at him from the ground, holding his cheek.

  The Bootknife shook his head, “That being said, you did muster the guts to step to me. I can respect that. Besides, I could really use an extra night of cards at Mulligan’s. Alright, you can go to the dance, take the whole damned weekend off!”

  This was, in fact, John’s plan. On the ground, John cursed himself silently for forgetting his teacher’s affinity for physical violence. Of course he wouldn’t let John’s comments slide for free. The youngest of the Calhoun’s supposed the juice was worth the squeeze, anyway.

  “Yeah!” Buster raised his hands, “I can’t wait to set the barn on fire!”

  Logan’s eyes gleamed, a wolfish grin spreading across his face, “But on Monday, we hit this shit hard. You’ll wish you hadn’t provoked me…”

  “My dad is cool…” Mavis grumbled.

  Logan watched as Calvin picked John up. The group collectively celebrated, sharing their excitement for the event. Joined by Team Smallmouth, they went about discussing what they might wear and how they might dance. Smallmouth stepped beside him.

  “I heard you talking to them boys.” He let out a snicker, “Not scared of the little twosies huh?”

  “Yeah.” He smirked, “That’ll be the day.”

  “You hunted down the turncoats a long time, ever found a Six-Gun you WERE afraid of?” Smallmouth raised an eyebrow, looking to his colleague with genuine interest. The boys and girls were all trotting off to celebrate.

  Logan crossed his arms, “In all my time, I have only ever really been scared of two Six-Guns. The Traitor, Benoit, and the man who killed him.”

  Smallmouth narrowed his gaze. Logan had been at St. Louis, there was only one person he could be talking about. In Logan’s dark eyes, Smallmouth could almost see the reflection of that monster as Logan had seen him in St. Louis that day. Those brilliant blue delta eyes, gleaming with malice, that toothy grin streaked in blood; Smallmouth knew exactly who Logan meant.

  “Now you’re training up his son.”

  “Yeah, and I kind of like the kid too.” Logan shook himself free of the memories, “He’s got heart, got a fire. I can work with that.”

  “You ain’t scared to smack him around, not worried you’ll catch the business end of the Southpaw?”

  “You kidding? Baird don’t seem to give a single fuck about that kid. It’s tragic. But I do. So I’ll smack him around enough and maybe he’ll survive out there.” Logan returned his steely gaze to the boys.

  “You don’t have to be a hard ass ALL the time, you know?” Smallmouth watched them alongside Logan. “You could go to the Barn Fire too.”

  “Out of the question.”

  Smallmouth chuckled, “Can’t get a date? I’m not surprised.”

  “I’m not dating anyone. I had one chance to date. I blew it.” Logan stated flatly, unconcerned with the idea.

  “You know, I read somewhere that Penguins mate with only one mate for life. I oughta call you the Penguin.” Smallmouth chuckled.

  “Call me that, and you’ll find out quick why everyone else calls me the Bootknife.” Logan snickered.

  “Fair enough, Logan.” Smallmouth path his shoulder, “But you know, nobody’s stopping you from going to see her again. She’s not dead or anything.”

  Logan remained silent as Smallmouth walked away from him. Watching his boys, he thought a little about that idea. Logan elected to go and sit down. The jury was out on seeing the woman he had once called his lover again.