Wild Western: The Legend of Johnny Smokers #2

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Johnny looked to his left and saw the first wolf he had tackled, bleeding from the head, hoisting itself back up onto the porch. He heard two more growls from his right, and the two near Maria were climbing back up also, one holding its shoulder, the other holding it’s gut. They all wore the same beadwork around their necks. He snapped the half loaded barrel back into the pistol and pointed a gun in each direction. The wolves growled a little louder and suddenly a voice from the yard yelled, “NO!”

Spinning quickly, Johnny swung his guns towards the voice as it said, “He’s mine.” The voice walked calmly through the dust storm, and took the form of a man as it got closer. An Indian actually, with long black hair, a duster, a knife sheathed on one hip, and a gun holstered near his ankle. He was smoking a cigarette, and he wore the same necklace as these creatures around him. The dust storm died abruptly.

Just then, Johnny heard a growl at his back, and felt hot breath on his ear. The wolf from the cabin, still standing? He forgot the man in the yard as he turned slowly towards the creature, its teeth only inches from his face. He instinctively shuffled one foot to attempt to back away, and the beast lashed out, slamming a backhand into Johnny’s chest that sent him flying out into the yard. He landed on his back, his head at the stranger’s feet, looking up into his face. When he realized he had not let go of his guns, he pointed them up at the man.

The Indian did not look impressed. “Do you know why I carry this knife on my hip instead of the gun, stranger?”

‘Stranger?’ thought Johnny. They did all of this, and they don’t even know who I am? Johnny breathed hard and shook with rage. Through gritted teeth, he responded, “Deathwish?”

The man bent down so his face was inches from the barrels, smiled, and said, “To make it a fair challenge.” Johnny went to pull a trigger, but the Indian moved faster, snatching the guns from his hands and tossing them aside.

Then one of the wolves leapt from the porch. The Indian reacted instantly. He whipped the gleaming blade from its sheath, caught the wolf in the belly as it came down, and then slammed him into the ground. Straddling the creature, the Indian ripped the knife from his belly, held the bloody blade to the wolf’s throat and yelled, “I told you: he is mine!” He then slashed the wolf’s throat, tearing the necklace from its neck in the process. The wolf died instantly. The other wolves howled as the Indian wiped the blade in the beast’s fur. He stood, returned the blade to the sheath on his hip, turned towards the other wolves on the porch and roared, “HE’S MINE!” The wolves all stooped and whined, ears laid back on their heads as they backed up and tried to hide behind each other. The Indian’s eyes narrowed, and then he pointed at Maria and said, “But I don’t want her.”

The wolves perked back up at that, and Johnny screamed as they fell upon her. The Indian watched the wolves impassively as Johnny rolled back-and-forth on the ground, sobbing for his wife. The Indian looked on the white man with disgust as he lay face down in the dirt, crying over his woman. He strode over, grabbed Johnny by the hair and jerked his head upwards as he said, “Time to die, boy.”

Johnny came up with his guns in his hands, which he had rolled over on while the Indian wasn’t looking. “I don’t think so,” he raged, as he jammed a gun into the Indian’s face.

The Indian smiled. “Why? Because you have a gun? I’ve already shown you I can take it before you pull the trigger.”

Johnny backed away a step, gun still pointing at the Indian, and he said, “No, not because I have a gun. Because you want me for something.” He backed away out of arm’s reach, but still didn’t feel safe, despite the guns.

The Indian smiled like he could sense Johnny’s fear. “Yes I do,” he stated, as he took a step forward. “I want you for sport,” and then he turned into a wolf and advanced on Johnny who was now backing up rapidly. Johnny was in a full backwards run when the wolf leapt at him, and he was surprised when he heard a loud neigh and Graycloud slammed into the wolf at a full run.

The wolf snarled and slashed at the horse’s neck as he fell to the ground. Graycloud reared up and came down on the wolf with his front hooves, causing him to howl in pain. He reared up again, and Johnny shot the wolf a few times, which caused the horse to turn away. Johnny wondered why he hadn’t shot before, but wasted no time running to his horse and swinging into the saddle. “Go, Graycloud!” The Appaloosa chafed at the rein brushing the claw marks on its neck, but it took off at a run.

Behind them, Johnny heard, “You’re mine! You’rrre miiine! YOU’RE MIIINNNNEE!” and then he felt a hot pain in his left shoulder as the Indian’s knife found its mark, and he tumbled roughly from the saddle, digging the blade in further as he rolled.

The Indian wolf smiled, but before he could advance, an arrow pierced his leg, and he howled. More arrows zipped through the air and the other wolves howled too, as the arrows found back, shoulder, and heart. The one hit in the heart fell dead. More arrows hit the porch columns, the cabin, and the Indian wolf, now just an Indian again, took another in the arm. He snarled when he was hit, and it still sounded like a wolf. He looked at the two remaining wolves, and they all bolted for the woods on the far side of the field.

Johnny watched all of this from where he lay in the road as he faded to unconsciousness. Just before passing out, he saw more Indians advancing on him, and he felt no relief. Maria’s brothers, he thought, and then everything went black.

Story and characters owned by Chris Bishop, copyright 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022.

Thanks for stopping in! :^D

Thanks for reading.

@cbishop: Indian werewolves, seems you're reading my brain

@batkevin74: Well, these first four issues were my entry for CCC 24. The Indian figure of Coyote seemed like a good source for werewolves though, so that's how I came to this. :)

@cbishop: Maybe I stole from your brain then....bugger

@batkevin74: It's possible you picked it up subliminally- it happens. Really though, we probably both got similar ideas from movies, twisted by our love of comics. lol

In the WW universe most werewolves are Native American. In that community whites are considered the minority which is something I'll touch upon in Moonsick.

@dngn4774: This story well predates WW, but it fits well with it. I'm not planning to muck anything up too badly. ;)

I can't help but hear the bad Indian guys voice as Freddy Kruger.

Similar yell, yes, but that's not what his voice sounds like in my head. ;)

Some intense surprises in this one. I didn't expect the horse to join the fight. I also didn't expect the wolves to begin to fight amongst themselves.

One moment was awkward to me - when the Indian is disgusted. It feels like to shift into his point of view for a moment, when otherwise the point of view was Johnny's. Maybe "disgust written on his face" would say the same thing and keep it external?

Thanks!

@wim_garnet: Hm, I hadn't really intended for it all to be from Johnny's perspective. I'll have to take a look at that. Thanks.

Take that ya pesky varmit!

@batkevin74: Dang! That pic almost perfectly fits the scene where the werewolf leaps off the porch at Smokers.