Silent Night

Snow blanketed the town of Redemption, casting a hush over the small streets as Christmas Eve settled into the night. The cold bit deep, seeping into bones and hearts, a reminder of how far Redemption was from the comforts of the world. But tonight, the little church glowed with candlelight, its steeple standing proud against the darkness as the townsfolk gathered to sing hymns and hold onto whatever scrap of peace they could find.

Sheriff Jed McClane watched from his office, his eyes drawn to his daughter, Lily, as she waited outside the church, bundled in a coat almost too big for her, her face shining with Christmas wonder. She’d asked him all week to come sing “Silent Night” with her. She didn’t ask for much, just her Papa standing with her on this one holy night.

But peace was always fragile in a place like Redemption.

A low rumble of hoofbeats cut through the quiet, and Jed’s heart went cold. He peered out, his stomach twisting as six riders thundered into town, guns strapped to their hips, faces shadowed by hats pulled low. He knew them even before he could make out their faces: the Montoya Gang, led by Pablo Montoya—a man known for killing without mercy, leaving only ruin in his wake.

They were headed straight for the bank, where Reverend Harlan had stored every penny Redemption had saved to build a schoolhouse. That gold was more than just money; it was hope, the chance at a better future. And Jed knew that if Montoya got his hands on it, Redemption would be just another ghost town come morning.

Jed’s grip tightened on his pistol as he looked once more at Lily, standing in the falling snow, clutching a little handmade ornament to her chest. He whispered a silent promise and stepped out into the night.

Jed moved through the shadows, his heart a solid weight, his breath fogging in the frigid air. Montoya had posted one of his men by the bank door—a lanky snake of a man named Eddie Slade. Slade was a talker, always with a smart mouth, and tonight he was grumbling about the cold, too busy mumbling to notice Jed creeping up behind him.

In one swift motion, Jed grabbed Eddie, pressing his pistol to the man’s temple, his voice low and cold. “Not a word.”

Eddie’s mouth opened in a strangled gasp, and Jed’s grip tightened. He moved fast, taking Eddie down with a solid blow to the head. Jed’s heart pounded as he dragged the body into the shadows, working quickly to bind Eddie’s hands with a spare length of rope he kept tied to his belt.

Jed then tied Eddie to his own horse, making sure the bindings were secure. With a quick smack on the horse’s flank, he sent it trotting off into the snowy darkness, Eddie’s unconscious body dragging along behind as they disappeared down the road. Jed allowed himself a grim smile before turning back to his work.

As Jed made his way to the saloon, he spotted another of Montoya’s men, Pete “The Bull” Jenkins, standing by the door with his arms crossed, a rifle slung across his back. Pete had a reputation for breaking bones, and Jed knew he couldn’t face him head-on.

He tossed a rock into a snowbank, sending a flurry into the air. Pete’s head whipped around, his hand moving to his gun, and Jed moved fast, his fist connecting with Pete’s jaw. But Pete was tough—tougher than Jed had counted on. With a roar, Pete swung a fist the size of a hammer, catching Jed in the ribs and knocking the air clean out of him.

Jed stumbled back, the world spinning, but Pete wasn’t done. He came at Jed with the force of a bull, slamming him against the cold ground, fists pummeling. Jed’s vision blurred as pain exploded through his body, his breath coming in ragged gasps, every movement like fire in his bruised muscles.

But Jed didn’t stop. He rolled away just in time, Pete’s boot grazing his shoulder, pain shooting down his arm. With a final surge, Jed swung up, his fist catching Pete under the chin. Pete fell, his body hitting the snow with a heavy thud.

After a quick look around, Jed wasted no time tying Pete’s hands together, securing him with the last bit of rope he had. He lashed Pete to his own horse and gave the animal a swift smack, sending it into a steady trot, dragging Pete’s unconscious form along the icy street and out of town.

Jed stood, aching and bruised but undeterred. Montoya had more men, and Lily was still waiting.

Jed pressed forward, his vision darkening as he reached the church, the pain in his side like fire with every breath. Inside, Montoya was barking orders, his voice cold and sharp as he eyed the townsfolk, lined up and cowering. Lily was in the front row, her face pale but brave, her tiny hands clutching her ornament.

Jed moved through the side of the church, slipping in through a back door, his steps silent as he crept through the shadows. He had only one chance to end this.

He raised his pistol and fired, taking down the first outlaw. He heard shots whiz past him from the front of the room.

Montoya!

Jed ducked.

The second outlaw spun around, his gun aimed, but Jed moved faster, ducking as the bullet whizzed past his head. He fired back, his shot finding its mark. Blood sprayed across the wooden floor, but Jed didn’t stop, his heart pounding as he moved through the smoke and chaos, his focus unbreakable.

When the gunfire faded, only Montoya was left, his eyes filled with cold fury. He raised his pistol and aimed it at Jed’s heaving chest. “You’re empty.”

“So are you,” Jed replied, though he didn’t really know if it was true.

Montoya didn’t flinch.

“You think you’re a hero?” Montoya sneered, his voice low, dripping with hate. “You thought you could take me down? You’re just throwing your life away tonight. A complete and total waste.”

Jed’s jaw clenched as he held Montoya’s gaze. “Maybe. Or maybe some things are just worth dying for.”

Montoya laughed, a harsh, broken sound. He took a step forward. “You know, Sheriff. It’s not too late. You could walk out of here right now and never look back, and I’ll let ya live. You and your little girl.”

Jed ignored him. “No, Pablo. One of us is gonna die tonight.”

Montoya sneered. “You’re being stupid. But you’re a real cowboy. I’ll give you that much. Yessir, a real honest-to-goodness vaquero,” he said mockingly.

Jed smiled. “Yippee-Kiyay!”

Montoya smiled.

“I made my little girl a promise tonight,” Jed said. “I told her I would sing ‘Silent Night’ for her. So I’m gonna do that, and then we’re gonna finish this.”

Montoya nodded and gestured as if yielding the stage, gun still in his hand, but moved to his side.

Jed looked toward Lily and locked eyes with her, tears forming in his own eyes while they streamed freely down hers. He sang with all of the love and sincerity he could muster as he prepared himself for what came next.

“Silent night, holy night

All is calm, all is bright

Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child

Holy Infant so tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly peace

Sleep in heavenly peace.”

The moment he sang the final note of the first verse, both men sprang into action at once.

Montoya raised his pistol and fired! Time seemed to freeze. Jed heard the shot ring out. He heard the click of the empty gun from the second shot that never fired. He felt the impact of the lone bullet as it dug into the flesh of his left shoulder. He felt it exit him and heard it bury itself in the wall behind him. He felt it all, but it did not stop his momentum as he pulled the bowie knife from his belt and plunged it, with all of his remaining strength, deep into Montoya’s chest.

They fell together, locked in a deadly embrace, Jed’s weight pressing the knife deeper as they hit the ground. Jed gripped the knife tighter, twisting it still deeper, his own body shaking with the effort, his breath ragged as he watched the life drain from Montoya’s eyes.

Montoya’s struggles slowed, his breaths turning shallow, his face pale and slack. His eyes, once filled with cold malice, faded, the spark of life snuffed out as Jed held him down, refusing to let go until it was over.

Finally, Montoya went still, his body heavy and lifeless. Jed lay on top of him, his own vision darkening, his body spent, every muscle screaming in pain. But he’d done it. He’d won.

With a shuddering breath, he pushed himself up, his vision swimming as he looked around. The townsfolk were staring, their faces a mix of awe and gratitude, but all Jed could see was Lily, her small face streaked with tears, her eyes wide and filled with a fierce, quiet pride.

She ran to him, her little arms wrapping around his waist, and he knelt, pulling her close, his own tears mixing with the blood and sweat on his face.

“Merry Christmas, Papa,” she whispered, her voice trembling but strong.

Jed managed a smile, his heart full, as he held her tight. “Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

Reverend Harlan stepped forward, his voice rough as he began to sing the second and third verses of “Silent Night,” his voice joined by the others, one by one, their voices filling the church with a warmth that eased the ache in Jed’s body, bringing a kind of peace that felt like salvation.