Fire Wind

Book One

of
The Wind Drifters

Words of Action

Copyright © 2015 by Guy S. Stanton, III.

Published by Guy S. Stanton, III at
Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any
form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other
electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written
permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses
permitted by copyright law.

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the
author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used
for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living
or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or
locales is completely coincidental.

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Fire Wind

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Fire Wind
/ Guy S. Stanton, III. –
First Edition.

The Warrior Kind
Series

Book 1:
A Warrior’s Redemption

Book 2:
A Warrior’s Journey

Book 3:
A Warrior’s Legacy

Book 4:
A Warrior’s Return

Book 5:
A Warrior’s Revenge

The Agents for Good
Series

Book 1:
Agent with a History

Book 2:
Agent for a Cause

Book 3:
Agent out of Time

Book 4:
Agent in the Dark

Book 5:
Agent on the Run

Book 6:
Agent finds a Warrior

Water Wars
Series

Book 1:
Journey into the Deep

Book 2:
The Proverbial War

Book 2:
The Quest for Paradise

The Wind Drifters
Series

Book 1:
Fire Wind

Book 2:
Ice Wind

Book 3:
Hard Wind

Book 4:
Rift Wind

Book 5:
Drift Wind

Fire Prophets
Series

Book 1:
The Way

Book 2:
The Truth, Coming Soon

Book 2:
The Life, Coming Soon

The Kingdom

Fallen Ambitions

Dedicated to one of my

favorite authors of all time

Louis L’Amour.

Lightning flashed among the peaks and thunder
concussively rolled down the valley in a continuous echo of sound.
Staring out into the rain choked night, I smiled, this was my kind
of weather.

I’d always liked storms, even as a kid. Now
as I watched the storm crash about me it seemed as if each
lightning strike was in a war to outdo the one before. It was quite
the show.

My eyes drifted to an area where I’d seen
movement during one brief flash of lightning. With my full
attention I studied the dark area of the night from where I’d seen
the movement.

I waited for another flash of lightning, gun
already in hand.

The stark landscape lit up again and I saw
the source of movement better this time. It was an indian, a woman,
and she was dragging something.

The way she was headed she’d miss the spot
where I was holed up.

I glanced around the dry enclosure of
projecting boulders that I was nestled in. The half cave at the
back was barely enough for me and my horse, but it was dry. I
looked back out and with another flash of color I could see that it
was an old man that she drug along the ground.

They were nothing but trouble for the
asking.

The woman was about all done in. It wasn’t
much further after that thought that I saw her slip down to her
knees in the mud.

The despair in the forward slump of her
shoulders said it all.

I looked down. That wasn’t a good look to be
seeing on anyone. It almost made me feel………. feel something for an
indian.

I looked up again and saw more movement in
the rain, only this time it was a party of riders. I’d holstered my
gun at some point, but now I went to my gear on the ground and
pulled my rifle free.

Stepping back out to the stone overhang I
sighted down the barrel of the repeater on the lead rider coming up
on the still kneeling woman. It was hard to see and I waited for a
flash of light, but none seemed to come.

Then it flashed and I saw the riders converge
on the woman, who had given up all attempt to drag the old man any
further. She turned about on her feet in order to face her fate
head on at the hands of the cowboys, who were already hooting and
hollering in anticipation of what they thought was to come.

Indian or not, no woman deserved what was
coming. The night flashed as clear as daylight and I squeezed the
trigger.

The rifle bucked against my cheek and a rider
with a drawn handgun about to fire into the body of the old man on
the ground jerked and then fell out of the saddle. In consternation
the other three riders milled around in search of the threat that I
posed them.

Lightning flashed again and I fired. Flashed
again and I let off two more fast shots.

Another rider was down and the other two, one
of which clutched at his arm, had enough and took off. The woman
was looking around in startlement and with a sigh I stepped out
into the downpour and made my way towards the pair.

The woman looked on fearfully as I
approached, but I paid her no attention. Walking around I kicked at
the two men on the ground to ascertain if they were dead or not.
They were.

Two more to add to the growing list. Would
the list ever end?

Doubtful, as there were always more that
needed killing it seemed. I turned to the pair on the ground.

The woman knelt behind the head of an older
indian with the whitest hair that I’d ever seen on a man. Though he
was old he still possessed the athletic look of a much younger
man.

The appearance of vigor or not there was
little to be argued with a bullet wound through the leg. Kneeling
down I studied the wound more closely.

Peering under the strip of leather wrapped
around the man’s thigh I saw tree moss. That was curious.

Looking up to the old man I heard him say,
“Stops the blood and there’s no fever later.”

I blinked in surprise at the man’s perfect
usage of the English language. Very curious indeed.

The woman cried out and pointed at something
over my shoulder. Turning I saw a group of at least twenty riders
backlit by a sudden flash of lightning on a rise not too far from
us.

Not good! Being out here in the open
especially not good!

Turning to the old man I hauled him forward
and slung him over my shoulder. Rising up I held onto him with one
arm only to stoop down in order to reach for my rifle still laying
on the ground.

The woman grabbed it up and handed it to me
and I took off at a run with her following close beside me. Bullets
began ricocheting off boulders all around us, even as I saw mud
kicked up into the air to either side of me, while being splattered
with it from behind.

The woman cried out and half turning I saw
her start to fall forward as her hands clutched at her hip. I
dropped the rifle and reaching forward I caught a hold of her
leather dress at the neck and drug her along after me.

The old man was starting to slip, but I’d
made it to the safety of the enclosure of boulders and dumping both
my burdens to the dry ground I ran back out into the dark for my
rifle. The only problem was that it was dark and about two inches
of mud covered the ground.

Lightning flashed and I saw the dull glint of
the rifle’s receiver half buried in mud. Dodging forward I grabbed
it up.

Straightening up I was driven backward to
land laid out in the mud with all the breath knocked out of me.
Desperation drove me to my feet and back into the safety of the
boulders, even as bullets smacked into the ground where I had just
been.

Wiping at the mud in my eyes I brought the
rifle up to sight down it on the horsemen fast approaching the
overhang with all guns blaring. I pulled the trigger, but the rifle
didn’t respond.

My hand felt at the receiver in the darkness
only to feel that it was all smashed up from where it had taken a
bullet meant for me. Cursing I threw the rifle aside and drawing my
handgun I took aim on the lead rider.

I almost dropped my gun though as a spinning
orb of light came out of nowhere to hover above the approaching
party of riders and pulse brightly. Light lit the night up as it
was given off by the glowing orb that flashed color more vibrant
than any lightning streak I’d ever seen.

The men’s horses went wild and I saw the
group of ashen faced riders take off in every direction as fast as
they could go. The spinning orb pulsed and then it was gone as
quickly as it had arrived.

The night was dark again and devoid of light
other than that which nature came by honestly. Feeling profoundly
shaken I made my way back into the overhang enclosure.

Numbly I holstered my gun and felt around for
the wood that I had set out to make a fire with earlier in the
afternoon. Finding the dry pieces I set the fire up and reaching
forward I felt at my saddle bags and pulled free a tin of
matches.

Striking the match off of a rough faced rock
I held it sheltered from the wind by the cup of my other hand
around it. I lit a small pile of dry pine fluff that I’d pulled
from a deadfall tree.

The fire came alive and I fed it until a
bright blaze illuminated the enclosure of the overhang. My horse
glanced curiously at me and then at the other two occupants of the
space.

The old man had pulled himself up against the
back wall of the cave and other than the look of restrained pain on
his face he appeared to be alert enough, but the woman was not so
good. She lay as I had dropped her.

Going to her I found where the bullet had
entered at the hip, but it hadn’t come out. I looked up to the old
man as I pulled my knife free. He said nothing as I cut into the
leather of her dress at the point of the bullet’s entry.

Blood was everywhere. Swallowing I looked at
all the blood for a moment not sure what to do.

I cut the dress a little more and when I did
my finger slid across something. Looking closer I felt again at an
upraised bit of flesh. It was the bullet.

It must’ve ricocheted off of her pelvis. It
needed to come out.

Glancing upward I gestured to my one
saddlebag, “Can you toss that here?”

The old man leaned to the side painfully and
grabbed up the saddlebag and tossed it to me. Catching it I pulled
one of my shirts from it and began to wipe at the blood.

I pulled out a bottle of whiskey that I kept
for special circumstances, mainly when I didn’t want to remember
anything. Pulling the cork free I took a gulp of the whiskey that
burned like fire and then I doused it all over the wound before me
liberally.

Thankfully she was unconscious and didn’t
move. I sure would’ve.

Pouring more whiskey onto the blade of my
knife I then extended it further towards the fire. With a poof of
fire the blade burned brightly for a moment before flaming out.

Bringing the knife up I held it by the blade
as I used only the lower portion of the foot-long Arkansas
toothpick to make a small slit in the woman’s flesh. More red blood
spilled out and I made another slit to form an x.

Pressing with the fingers of my one hand to
either side of the wound I squeezed even as I dug the tip of the
knife into the wound. I felt the bullet and levering the knife to
the side I watched the bullet pop free of the wound with a gush of
blood.

What was I going to pack the wound with?

My shirt was far from being clean even to
start with before all the blood that it was now caked with. The old
man was gesturing to a pouch that lay half under the woman.