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them sat Reverend Titus Willard.  
    “Be very still,” the Reverend whispered. “Do you hear them?”  
    Outside, the shuffling continued, slow and steady. It sounded like a dozen people were sliding their feet across the dirt.  
    “That is them,” the Reverend whispered. “Those are the Devil’s minions. You did not believe me, but here they are.”  
    The shuffling, and beyond it, just like in his dream, Clay heard faint whimpering.  
    The boy.  
    Of course it was the boy.  
    Tied up to that post at the end of the main street.  
    Clay tried moving again, wanting to break free of his restraints, jump to his feet, rush outside to save the boy. It was a bold ambition but one that would never happen. Even if he wasn’t tied up like this, he doubted his worn body would allow him to act quick enough to rescue the boy.  
    “For weeks,” the Reverend whispered, “they have been coming to our town. Every night it sounds like more join their army.”  
    That slow and steady shuffling.  
    “And every night we give them their sacrifice, and they leave the rest of the town alone. It is what the Lord demands we do for the time being, before he delivers us from this evil.”  
    That distant whimpering, sad and pathetic.  
    “After we sacrificed the children, we had no choice but to start with the women.”  
    The whimpering growing more frantic before becoming an unintelligible shouting.  
    “It was difficult for the men to accept at first—even more difficult than it was to accept about the children—but they eventually saw it was the Lord’s will.”  
    That unintelligible shouting becoming a tortuous screaming.  
    “Some of the women tried to flee. They had allowed us to sacrifice their children, but when the Lord deemed them worthy of sacrifice, they became scared.”  
    That tortuous screaming going on ... and on ... and on ... until it became gargled.  
    “We had to track those women down. Some of them put up quite a fight. A few we had no choice but to kill. It was a waste, but they needed to be taught a lesson.”  
    That gargled screaming dimming out like a dying candle.  
    “The others,” the Reverend whispered, “we brought back and had to lock up. And every night, we took one of them out just like your boy. We tied her to the post and waited for the demons to come.”  
    The gargled screaming dimming and dimming, that candle almost burnt out.  
    “Earlier this week we sacrificed the last woman. Except, of course, my precious wife. The Lord has given me permission to allow her to live.”  
    The gargled screaming had stopped but the shuffling continued, Clay now staring past the bars at the window, at the dark night.  
    “After a while, they will leave us. And then the sun will rise on a new day, and we will all thank the Lord that we survived the night.”  
    Reverend Titus Willard shifted on the bench.  
    “Just remember, I gave both of you gentlemen the chance to be a part of this town. I tried to show you mercy, but you wanted none of it. And now here we are.”  
    Clay closed his eyes and saw his daughter tied to that post, screaming.  
    “Tomorrow night one of you will be chosen for sacrifice. If I were you, I would make my peace with the Lord to ensure my soul does not burn in those eternal flames like the rest of those demons.”  
    Clay opened his eyes and stared past the bars into the dark. He heard the Reverend’s words, but he didn’t. All he could hear was the shuffling, that slow and steady and continuous shuffling, all those dozens—no, hundreds —of demons outside, searching for a new sacrifice.

 
     
     
     
     
    part two
                                       

    POSSE

 
     
     
     
    8.

    Sheriff Jeremiah Logan picked up the gold coin off the glass counter of Goodman’s Mercantile and turned it over in his fingers.  
    “They were here.”  
    Fred Bolton stepped up next to him. “How do you know?”  
    Logan held