Nathan Segaris sat in a copse of trees and waited.
He'd been watching the west bluff that separated Carl Hew's grazing lands from those of the Blackfeet Indian reservation. Hew had about four-hundred head and if things went well, before morning, he'd be down about fifty.
Segaris grinned.
And it wasn't a pleasant sight: he had no teeth, just mottled gums.
There were several broken sections of fence along the west bluff that Hew and his men hadn't gotten around to repairing just yet. With a little help, these could be widened up nicely.
Segaris climbed back up on his brown and steered the gelding back down towards Wolf Creek. Tonight would be a good night. The others would meet him on around midnight and, with luck, they'd get those steer off of Hew's land and into the next valley by morning.
It was a plan.
Segaris grinned and lit a cigar.
It was after sundown by the time he made it back to his little place outside of town. He made himself a meal of corn cakes and what remained of the smoked ham from yesterday. It wasn't much, but it would suffice. And by this time next week, he'd have some real money for food.
He sat down and re-lit his cigar.
Life was grand, he thought, life was surely grand.
Outside, his horse whinnied.
He sat up. It was too early for the rest of the boys to show. He listened, cocking an ear. He could hear the wind out there, skirting the barn with the wail of widows.
Nothing else.
But Segaris was a careful man. He took his shotgun off the hook above the hearth, broke it open, and fed in two shells. If someone had come to pay a call, they'd best be wary.
The door rattled in its frame like someone had shaken it.
There was a scratching at it now. That and a hoarse, low breathing. Segaris stood up again and took aim, closing the distance to the door with a few light steps.
The door shook violently again and then exploded in with an icy gust of wind that carried a black, godless stink on it. Segaris was thrown to the floor. He came up shooting, not knowing what it was he was shooting at.
Then he saw.
"Sweet Jesus," he muttered.
His screams echoed into the night.