For the lips of a strange woman drop as an honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil: But her end is bitter as wormwood, sharp as a two-edged sword.
-Proverbs 5: 3-4
When they arrived back in Dusthaven, Cole, Owley and Kane took Josie straight to the jail. Tawakoni was sitting at the sheriff’s desk, studying an elaborate jigsaw puzzle that Hank had been assembling when Cole had first come there. It was now about two-thirds complete. Tawakoni and Hank were discussing its exquisite craftsmanship, and Hank was telling Tawakoni where he had bought it back east.
After Kane shoved her into the office, Josie's face lit up while Hank's face darkened in anger. "Why, Hank Whitaker as I live and breathe.” She sashayed toward him, hips swaying, almost as if she were at a square dance. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Josie Vise,” Hank rumbled. “Always a pleasure.” He didn’t look like it was really a pleasure, though. It looked to Cole more like pain.
"Used to be,” Josie fairly purred, putting a hand on his shoulder, “before you joined the law. I remember you were always up for a good time." Hank seemed to be struggling to keep his expression neutral. Josie’s voice was smooth, bordering on sweet. And yet, there was definitely some sort of threat in it. It was a question: would Hank fall for it? She’d made it clear that she knew Hank had changed. But did he? Or would he be tempted? “You look good,” she said.
Hank looked her over. He made no comments about her outfit, or the fact she was wearing a gun belt. He noted that she was pale, sweating, and trembling and looked borderline malnourished. “You don’t. Have you actually been taking Hollister’s snake oil?”
Kane handed Hank the small bottle he had taken from her. Hank’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “Yeah, that’s it, all right.” He frowned in disgust. Her eyes instantly fastened raptly on the bottle. They moved as it moved, back and forth.
“You give me that bottle, Hank Whitaker. You give it to me now!” Josie said. She lunged towards him, so fast that Kane nearly couldn’t grab her before she got to Hank. Hank reflexively dropped the bottle, and it shattered on the floor, filling the air with a sour, acrid vinegary odor. The odor spread through the air, into their noses and clothing, making them all gag. Josie shrieked and pulled herself from Kane’s grip, trying futilely to get any of the liquid from the bottle before it soaked into the wood floor.
“Damn you!” she screamed in frustration. “Damn you all to hell!”
“I’d put her in the lockup,” said Hank, “But…” he indicated the door to the jail cell, which was broken off the hinges. “Your friend Mr. McGraw had a little gift from Hollister too. Didn’t notice that one until after he drank it. He busted out of here like a bull. Come to think of it, after he took it, he kinda looked like a bull. Me and White Feather both shot him, but it didn’t even slow him down.” Tawakoni nodded along.
“Well, that’s just dandy,” said Kane. “Now what do we do with her?”
“You let me go, before Hollister gets here, that’s what!” Josie stood up again, placing hands on hips and confronting the much taller Kane.
“Don’t think so, sweetheart.” Kane said in return.
“She claims she’s Hollister’s wife,” Cole shrugged. Hank snorted derisively.
“Hollister wouldn’t marry a soiled dove like her,” he said.
“Kane thinks they’ll come after her, though,” said Cole.
“Almost certainly,” said Hank. “Several of the gang don’t have the same discerning taste as he does.”
A commotion began to be raised outside. Hank walked to the office’s barred window and looked out. “Right on schedule,” he muttered. Cole looked out, to see several dark figures on horseback surrounding a heavy buckboard with something on the back shrouded in a tarp. He recognized the young prize fighter from Red Rock Gulch seated on the front of the wagon, and beside him the figure of “Doctor Ezekiel” from the medicine show. With a thrill of anticipation, he realized that his opportunity for revenge had presented itself.
Hollister stepped down from the wagon, a mad light reflected in his eyes from the kerosene lamps that hung on its sides. “Dusthaven,” he shouted. “You listen, and you listen good. “Your town is mine now! You answer to me.” Pulling the tarp from the wagon, he revealed the form of a huge Gatling gun mounted on the back. His men climbed onto the back to the wagon and began preparing the gun to fire. “Or else!”
“Or else what, Doc? Don’t you remember what we did to you last time you came around here?” Reverend Elias walked out of the darkness, holding a blazing torch. It looked like he had brought most of the town with him; men, women, and even a few older boys stepped out of the darkness at his back. “You take that monstrosity on out of here and don’t you come back.”
Owley’s eyes were wide as he grabbed Josie’s arm and started to haul her toward the door. Kane looked like he’d just swallowed a scorpion. “What the hell are you DOING?” he hissed. Owley didn’t stop.
“We need to give her back to them. Maybe they’ll go away,” he said.
“Like hell we will!” Kane shouted. Owley pulled his pistol, hand shaking as he raised it in Kane’s face.
“You need to think real hard about what you’re doing, son.” Hank said. Cole got the impression that the grizzled lawman could probably draw and fire his gun before Owley even thought of pulling the trigger. Owley seemed to have it too, because he swallowed hard, but did not lower his gun.
“White Feather,” he said. “Help me get her out there. That’s an order.”
Tawakoni’s Colt .45 came up, aimed at Owely’s head instead. “You don’t pay me any more, ‘boss’. The railroad fired you. And me, as far as that goes.”
Outside, Hollister turned and shouted toward the sheriff’s office. “Hank Whitaker! I know you’re in there. Come out or we’ll start blasting!” He gestured at the Gatling gun.
Owley dropped his gun, and moved back toward the cell. Josie moved back with him. Outside, the fight began in earnest as the townsfolk trained their own guns on Hollister and his companions. Hollister actually looked happy as he saw the town arrayed against him. He laughed.
“Boys,” he said. Several of his companions produced bottles and quaffed them. Screaming and writhing, their bodies began to change and grow - becoming at once larger and more primitive, they roared and launched themselves into the crowd. Others threw off dusters and serapes to reveal that they were, like Geneviève, patchwork men. Townsfolk screamed and gasped as they too surged into the darkness.
A man standing on the wagon blew a strange whistle, and was answered by the eerie howls of coyotes. Yet they didn’t sound quite right. And the Gatling gun crew began strafing the main street, the bullets carving a path toward the sheriff’s office at the end of the street.
Out of the hills came the strangest pack of coyotes Cole had ever seen - they all looked like the one that had attacked Tawakoni’s horse at the canyon. They tore into the settlers and miners from behind as the townsfolk began returning fire.
“We need to get out there,” said Kane. He and Cole dived for the door as the air was alive with Gatling gun fire. And in the midst of the chaos stood Hollister, laughing maniacally. Cole and Kane crawled toward him, trying to avoid the mouth of the Gatling gun. Cole wondered why the gun crew weren’t firing at them, when suddenly something yanked him from his feet.
Looking down, he stared into the face of what remained of Mad Dog McGraw. While McGraw had never been handsome, he now looked as though the madness within was given form on his face - almost more ape or perhaps a lion than human. A small trickle of drool escaped the monstrosity’s lips as it shook Cole and roared. Its breath was even uglier than its face.
Kane started to raise his pistol, but Cole cried “Get Hollister!” as he saw Tawakoni sneaking up behind the creature. Before the monster noticed the Indian, he had buried his bowie knife in its ribs. The creature backhanded him, sending him flying into the side of a building. The building buckled from the force.
But no one had ever accused Cole of being gutless. The feral McGraw turned his head back to Cole, just in time for Cole to shove his six gun in its mouth and pull the trigger. The thing yelped, and dropped him as he fired another bullet at close range directly into its eye. The creature yowled and toppled over. Cole watched, fascinated and horrified, as it slowly shrank back into Mad Dog McGraw again, now quite dead.
He noticed that at some point during his fight with the monster, the Gatling gun had stopped firing. Cole turned, and headed toward where he’d last seen Hollister, his desire for vengeance allowing him no time to pay attention to the carnage around him.
Hollister and Kane were on the Gatling gun wagon, Hollister with his hands raised as Kane trained his Colt Peacemaker on him. “Geneviève Star?” Hollister grinned. “Oh, yes. I remember her. Such spirit. She should be honored, you know. I made her into the perfect woman. The best of all women. Wasn’t it glorious?”
“It was sick, you demented bastard!” Kane held the gun on him, but he still didn’t fire.
“I can make you better too, Weston. You saw what I did with those others. The strength, the power. I’m sure I can make it prettier for you, given a little practice. It’s all about my patented snake oil, you see…”
Disgusted, Cole raised his pistol and fired, shooting the doctor in the back like the dog that he truly was. Choking, he dropped to his knees, looking at his own blood on his hands. “No more snake oil from you.” Cole said darkly. Then he turned and walked away.