Chapter 6

  The ride from Blood Moon Ranch started in silence. Elias led the way, following deer trails and abandoned mining roads.

  "Where exactly are we headed?" Silas asked as they climbed a rocky switchback.

  "Old silver mine." Elias guided his horse around a fallen tree. "You want to fight werewolves, you need the right tools."

  "More silver bullets."

  "First lesson, never assume you got enough ammunition." Elias paused to let his horse blow. "Second lesson, know how to make more when you run out."

  The trail climbed through switchbacks toward a natural bowl where the trees thinned.

  "How'd you find this place?" Silas asked as they approached the mine.

  "Hunting."

  The mine entrance was against the hillside. Wooden supports creaked in the wind. Rusted equipment lay scattered around the entrance, ore carts, picks, coils of rope that had rotted through.

  Elias rode past the mine shaft toward a stone building.

  "Smelting house," he said, dismounting. "Where they used to separate silver from rock."

  Silas tied Whisper and followed Elias inside. The original stone furnace still dominated one wall. Elias had patched the bellows with leather and rope, rigged up new chimney stones where the old ones had cracked. Workbenches lined the walls, covered with tools.

  "You got this old thing working?" Silas asked, examining the patched-together setup and the arrangement of crucibles, molds, and tongs. His eyes lingered on the silver ingots.

  "Took some doing. Miners left the basics behind." Elias began selecting materials from his supplies. "Found more silver deeper in the tunnels."

  "How much silver does it take?" Silas asked, examining the stacked ingots.

  "More than you'd think. Less than it used to." Elias hefted one of the ingots. "Pure as I can make it."

  "Help me get this forge lit," Elias said. "Takes time to get hot enough, but it'll give us the heat we need."

  They worked together building the fire in the old furnace. The patched bellows worked well enough.

  "You ever work a forge before?" Elias asked, watching Silas handle the bellows.

  "Some. Well, my father was a cavalry farrier before he died. Taught me the basics when I was young, you know? Never thought I'd be... I mean, using it to fight devils and all." Silas worked the bellows. "How hot?" Silas asked.

  "Hot enough to melt silver clean." Elias adjusted the airflow. "Too cool and the metal won't flow right. Too hot and it burns off."

  "How did you learn this?" Silas asked, watching Elias arrange the crucibles.

  "Had to teach myself. Wasn't much choice after…"

  Caroline laughing as she danced on the porch. Her green dress swaying in the evening breeze. A wedding gift from her mother. Green cotton she saved for special occasions. Sunday dinners. The rare times they had visitors.

  "Dance with me, Eli," she'd say when the sun set behind the mountains.

  And he would. Awkward as a schoolboy but happy to hold her close.

  Emma demanding stories about his days as a lawman. Eyes wide. She'd curl up against his side by the fireplace.

  "Tell us about the bank robbers, Papa," Emma would say. "Tell us how you caught them."

  And he would. Stories of justice served and wrongs made right. How he'd tracked the Thomas gang for three weeks. How he'd talked a boy out of his first robbery. How he'd faced down five armed men by himself.

  Lily presenting him with drawings of the family. Stick figures with enormous smiles. She'd spend hours at the kitchen table. Tongue poking out in concentration. Every picture the same. Four figures holding hands in front of a house. Yellow sun overhead.

  "That's you, Papa," she'd say, pointing to the tallest figure. "And that's Mama. And that's Emma. And that's me."

  "It's beautiful, little one."

  "I'm gonna be an artist when I grow up. Or maybe a moon-catcher."

  "What's a moon-catcher?"

  "Someone who catches the moon and keeps it safe."

  "Papa, will you teach me to shoot?" Emma had asked one evening. Holding up her wooden rifle. "This one's fun enough for pretend, but I want to learn the real thing."

  "When you're older," Caroline had said from the kitchen, but she was smiling. She'd been kneading bread dough. Flour on her hands and apron.

  "I'm already twelve," Emma protested. "That's practically grown."

  Lily looked up from her wooden horse. "Can I learn too?"

  "You're six," Emma said. "You have to wait."

  "No fair." Lily stamped her foot. Making her curls bounce.

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  "Maybe next year," he'd told Emma. "When your hands are bigger."

  She'd accepted that. Though she kept practicing with her wooden rifle. Said it was getting her ready. Caroline would watch from the kitchen window. Shaking her head but smiling.

  "That girl's got your stubborn streak," she'd tell him.

  "Wonder where she got that from."

  "You all right?" Silas asked.

  Elias realized he'd been staring into the forge flames for several minutes. The crucibles were hot enough now.

  "Fine." He pulled on leather gloves and began setting up the bullet molds. "Let me show you how this works."

  "My father used to say the forge brings back memories, you know? Something about the heat and the glow. Makes a man think of... well, think of home,” Silas said.

  Elias paused in his work. "Sounds right."

  "He was a good man. Deserved better than he got." Silas trailed off, arranging the molds. "I reckon some folks are just meant to be together, you know? Before they get taken."

  Elias nodded.

  "Pure silver's tricky," he said, placing the ingot in a crucible. "Too many impurities and the bullets fall apart." He adjusted the forge temperature. "Got to find the balance."

  They fell into a working rhythm.

  "Steady hands," he said, watching Silas work. "You'll do."

  "Well, I reckon I'm learning from... I mean, you know what you're doing." Silas paused in his work.

  The silver turned liquid. Elias tested it with an iron rod. "When it moves like water, it's ready. Too thick and it won't fill the molds right."

  Working together, they poured the first bullets. Solid silver, gleaming as they cooled. Silas picked up a finished round, hefting its weight.

  The silver caught the firelight. Elias blinked, and suddenly he wasn't in the smelting house anymore.

  Caroline's voice: "It wasn't your fault, Eli. You couldn't have known."

  It was my fault. I should've been there. Should've stayed home instead of riding to town.

  Caroline's voice whispered in his ear: "The children were so excited about your return. Emma had been practicing with her wooden rifle. Lily was making you a drawing."

  Stop. They're gone.

  Silas was staring at him. "Mr. Granger? Are you all right?"

  Elias found himself standing in the middle of the smelting house, hands clenched into fists.

  "I'm fine." He returned to the work. "Point is, Marshal, this is what it takes."

  He continued pouring bullets, one by one.

  "How'd you figure that out?" Silas asked.

  Elias was quiet for a moment. "Hard way."

  He set down the tongs and looked at the growing row of silver bullets. "After I buried them, took me three days to pick up their trail. Found where they had come from. Where they'd gone."

  "You tracked them?"

  "One of them. Split off from the group." Elias adjusted the forge's damper.

  Silas waited.

  "Found it holed up in a cave. Big bastard..." Elias tested the silver's temperature again. "One of them. Had to be."

  His hands stilled on the iron rod.

  "Went in with my rifle. Emptied every round I had into it."

  "What happened?"

  "Thing laughed at me. Actually laughed." Elias's jaw tightened. "Each shot just made it more amused."

  He could still see those eyes. Still hear that wet, rumbling sound. The werewolf had circled him in that cave like a cat with a mouse.

  "When it finally came for me, I was empty. It knocked me down like I was nothing." Elias poured another bullet, watching the silver fill the mold. "Got its teeth in my shoulder."

  "What changed?"

  "Desperation." Elias moved to the next bullet. "Was reaching for anything. Knife, rock, didn't matter. Hand found Caroline's cross in my pocket. Thing saw me moving and clamped down harder. So I stabbed it into its eye."

  Silas leaned forward. "And?"

  "Damn thing screamed like I'd set it on fire. Let go. Stumbled back, clawing at its face. Blood pouring from the wound. Real blood, not the black stuff that came from bullet holes." Elias finished another silver round. "Ran off howling into the forest."

  "So you knew it was the cross."

  "Knew something worked different. Question was why." Elias pulled off his gloves. "Religious blessing or the silver itself."

  "When did you figure it out?"

  "Had another cross at home. Silver one from Caroline's grandmother. Tried it on the next werewolf I tracked." Elias turned back to the ammunition. "Thing died screaming. Knew it was the silver after that."

  "That's when you started making silver bullets."

  "Started experimenting. Found that pure silver worked best." Elias turned back to the cooling ammunition. "Took months to get the technique right. Getting this old forge working was part of that."

  They worked in silence after that. Elias showed Silas how to handle the hot crucible. How to test the silver's consistency.

  "File off any rough spots once they cool," Elias said, demonstrating with a small metal file. "Rough bullet won't fly straight."

  "These are lighter than regular bullets," Silas observed. "But they sure do... well, they gleam something fierce."

  "Different weight than lead. Takes getting used to." He examined the finished round. "Changes everything else."

  "How many do you figure we'll need?"

  "More than we got. Always need more." Elias loaded one of the bullets into his rifle. Worked the action. "But this'll get us started."

  They finished as the sun touched the western peaks. Boxes of silver bullets. Properly weighted and balanced.

  "Tomorrow we start the real training," Elias said as they packed up the ammunition and tools.

  Silas checked his weapons, the new silver bullets secure in his pocket. "Thank you. For all this. For... well, for sharing what you know."

  Elias nodded. "You'll earn it."

  "There's something else we need to do first."

  Elias paused, studying the young marshal's face. "What?"

  "Deputy Ellis was Pike's partner. She's been working these cases for two years, has all his files." Silas met Elias's eyes. "She knows more about their patterns than anyone except you. And she's got evidence that could help us understand what Pike discovered before they killed him."

  "Don't need a deputy getting in the way."

  "She's not getting in the way. Pike trusted her with everything he knew. She's helped Pike document the recent attacks, seen what these things do. If anyone deserves to know what you've learned about how to fight them, it's her."

  Elias was quiet for a long moment. “What’s in those files?”

  "Jane shared Pike's files with me. He had theories, maps, and witness statements." Silas paused. "Honestly, I didn’t get to look at it all. Something in those files got him killed."

  “Pack kills a lot of people, what makes you think they killed him?”

  “Well, I’ve seen them now. But...” Silas pulls out his journal and opens it. “Town doctor showed me her autopsy report on him. This look familiar?” He handed Elias the journal.

  These are werewolf claw marks. “She found these on Pike?”

  “Yes and she couldn’t identify what caused them. We both know what did that.”

  Elias nodded. “Where was he attacked?”

  “In Dry gulch.”

  They don’t do that often.

  Elias mounted his horse. "One conversation and I look at those files. Then we get back to your training."

  "Understood."

  As they rode toward Dry Gulch, Elias looked back at Silas. The boy may be right. I need to look into this.