They call him Mad Dog Bill. He kills men for the fun of watching them die. He came to town looking for the Kid. He had two six guns and a lever action Henry strapped to his back. He wanted a challenge. He came to kill the Kid. In town, as the sun rose to the midday Mad Dog called out the Kid the only way he knew how. With led. Over his shoulder came a man. A western god. Tall and lean in a tan duster and black day rider hat. The Knuckle-Smash Kid was an icon of the west. With his trusty Joleen at his side no man could defeat him. Mad Dog thought he could use the sun to his advantage. He made sure it was at his back. He said to the Kid, “I am going to make my.” The kid interrupted him with hot led. Mad Dog Bill was now Mad Dog Dead.
Candice closed the book and held it to her chest. She was on her way to meet the Kid and tell his story. She left her boring life as a typesetter back in Baltimore, Maryland so she could be a real writer. But even more than that, she wanted to be with the Knuckle-Smash Kid. These stories started around six years ago. She would read each one from cover to cover. Each story was more violent, more seductive than the last. The Kid was everything the men back in Baltimore weren’t. She would go there write his story and then throw herself at him hoping he would make her a woman. She was twenty years old and on an adventure of a lifetime.
Welcome to Reality
Welcome to knuckle-Smash. The town was founded about twenty years ago by a man named Ilyas Teller. Old Ilyas wanted a waystation for the wagon trains going west. He knew that this place would be easier to tap into an aquafer with a well. The equipment be brought to the territory would later be used by many to bring water to the region. Old Ilyas founded the town that was to be named Teller Town, but a miscommunication between him and his daughter changed the name from Teller to Knuckle-Smash. The story is that he was telling her this long story about the drilling for water. She was asking him questions so she could send the information to the territory’s government and then off to Washington. She had interrupted him asking for the name. He was talking about how the drill busted up his knuckles. In an angry tone he said, “this was a Knuckle Smasher.” And the name stuck.
During this time, a writer was going from small town to even smaller town writing about what he saw. He liked the stories Old Ilyas told. He could talk a man to death then talk the corpse to rot. The writer wanted to move on until Ilyas got around to the gold. Now anyone who knows this area knows there is no gold. Maybe some silver, some opal and topaz but no gold. All the writer heard was gold. Within three years the population went from twenty to thirteen hundred with most looking for gold. As the stories died down so did the population. We are now at about a seven hundred or so. Most of the population is based around the wagon train service as well as a small but persistent opal and topaz business. The last two are mostly done by the local Indian Nation the Hopi.
It’s a quiet town slowly being beautified for a discerning traveler who want a little better than the cow towns along the trail. Much of this is to attract the train service which is rumored to be coming soon. The board walks and dirt streets are being replaced with cobblestone and brick. Much of the old adobe structures are being replaced by brick buildings. A large gazebo is being built in the middle of the town in what is to become a town square filled with shops and hotels. This will include a special shop for the Hopi’s works and trades. Chief Apenimon of the Hopi wanted a place where is people could do business away from their homes.
I guess at this point I should introduce myself. My name is Edward Warren. I am the sheriff of Knuckle-Smash. My job is to keep the peace. It is very easy. Most people want to go about their day-to-day lives with as little trouble as possible. As a town built on the idea of catering to travelers most want it to be a place of safety and security. The saloons close at around ten at night. Public drunkenness is discouraged as well as public prostitution. There is prostitution it just happens behind the closed doors of Misses Jane’s house. We outlawed the carrying of handguns in town. People from out of town need to either check their gun in at the sheriff’s office or a local hotel. To help enforce this law I also don’t carry a gun. I keep a lever action Henry in my saddlebag but my old Colt Navy is locked up. It’s an old cap and ball revolver. I have a new revolver on order, but it could take a few years.
These stories will be based in the old west and an attempt at a modern western (later on).
PDFs are on new Story PDF page
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