The Red Valley Rebellion
Part One of The Red Valley War
A Cat in the Dust
The dust cloud rises against the burning sky.
Hazel Keating wipes his brow, fingers trembling as he watches the horizon. Riders. At least twenty of them. They move like a storm rolling in, their silhouettes sharp against the dying sun.
The Gaines boys.
He turns back toward Clearwater, where wagons creak under hastily packed belongings. The settlers—his people—move too slow, hands fumbling, shoulders tense. They don’t know the fight is already here.
And then he hears it. A small, pitiful sound beneath the wagon.
Hazel crouches, peering under the wheels. A kitten, no bigger than his palm, is huddled in the dust. Tiny ribs shudder with every breath. The poor thing must’ve been left behind in the rush.
Hazel sighs. No time.
He reaches out anyway, scooping the kitten into his calloused hands. It’s all bones and dust, but alive. The little creature presses its nose into his palm, desperate for warmth.
Maggie Walker watches from the meeting house steps, rifle already in hand. “You’re serious?”
Hazel tucks the kitten into his coat. “Ain’t its fault we made enemies.”
Blackjack Harper snorts from the doorway. “Hope it shoots straight.”
Hazel straightens. Back to work.
Inside the meeting house, the air is thick with sweat and bad news. Big Bill Tate leans against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. Maggie paces near the window, her rifle shifting in her grip. At the table, Blackjack turns a bullet between his fingers like he’s weighing a prayer.
Hazel doesn’t waste time. “They’re coming.”
Blackjack exhales. “How many?”
Hazel shakes his head. “Too many.”
Big Bill stands straight. “Then we make a stand.”
It’s a strong thought. A brave thought. But Hazel knows better.
“If we stay, we die.”
The words sit heavy in the room. No argument. They all knew this was coming. Eli saw it days ago, his fevered whispers the first real warning. Hazel had ignored him then. He doesn’t have that luxury now.
Maggie slings her rifle over her shoulder and steps toward the door. Blackjack loads his revolver with slow, steady hands.
Hazel sets his jaw. “We move fast,” he says. “Or we don’t move at all.”
The Flight to Red Valley
They ride into the dusk, the wind clawing at their backs, carrying smoke from what was once home.
Behind them, Clearwater is dying.
Hazel doesn’t look back.
The wagons groan under their weight. Some carry food, some ammunition, some nothing but the last remnants of lives left behind. Eli rides beside Hazel, swaying in his saddle. Too pale. Too quiet.
“They’re gonna follow,” Eli murmurs. His voice is thin, unraveling at the edges.
Hazel nods. “I know.”
Maggie pulls her horse alongside his. “You sure about this valley?”
“No.”
She huffs a quiet laugh. “Great.” But she doesn’t argue.
Because there’s nowhere else to go.
The land stretches empty ahead, the sky pressing down, the wind howling like something wounded.
They push west.
Toward Red Valley.
The place Eli dreamed about.
A place that might not even exist.
The Attack
The gunshot comes at dawn.
Hazel’s horse bucks as a bullet screams past his ear.
The Gaines boys are here.
The wagons lurch forward, wheels kicking up dirt. Women clutch rifles. Men throw glances back. A child wails.
Hazel doesn’t hesitate. He spins in the saddle, rifle snapping up.
One breath. One shot.
A man drops.
Another.
It’s not enough.
A settler topples from his wagon, screaming. Blood soaks the dirt. Hazel doesn’t even know his name.
“Keep moving!”
The pass is close. The only way through.
Big Bill takes a bullet to the ribs. He slumps but doesn’t fall. Grunts like a man swatting a fly. Hazel knows better—Bill’s running out of time.
Hazel’s jaw tightens. Not here. Not today.
The mouth of Red Valley looms ahead. Blackjack and Maggie are already there, taking cover behind the rocks.
Hazel jumps down, his boots slamming into the earth.
“Hold the line!”
The settlers turn. Take aim. Fire.
The Stand
The battle is short. And brutal.
Gaines’ men crash into the pass like a flood. But Hazel’s people fight like cornered wolves.
Maggie drops three before they even reach the wagons. Blackjack knifes a man in the gut and twists the blade deep.
Big Bill fights with blood running down his side. He yanks a man from his horse and crushes his skull against the rocks.
Then Gaines himself rides in.
The old man pulls his horse to a stop, calm as ever, like he already knows how this ends.
He looks at Hazel.
And smiles.
“You think this valley belongs to you?”
Hazel raises his rifle.
Fires.
Gaines slams backward. Hits the dirt hard. He laughs. “Woundwort is gonna kick your asses,” he says, as blood erupts from inside of his mouth and death claims him.
His men hesitate.
Then they scatter.
The dust settles.
Hazel’s breath comes in ragged gasps. His hands shake for the first time.
They won. Didn’t they?
For now.
But what does Lucius Woundwort have to do with any of this? He was supposed to be staying further west…
The Smallest Victory
The fire flickers, the flames dancing in the cold morning air. The riders haven’t moved. Neither has Hazel.
Somewhere in the shadows, Maggie readies her rifle. Blackjack shifts in place. Big Bill coughs wetly in his sleep.
Hazel exhales. His coat shifts against his chest, and he feels it—tiny, warm, steady.
The kitten is curled up inside his shirt, its small body rising and falling, undisturbed by the looming war. It stretches once, paws pressing against his ribs, then tucks itself deeper, purring.
Hazel closes his eyes.
The fight isn’t over.
But for one small thing, in one small moment—
Everything is at peace.
Epilogue: A New Threat
The answer comes before dawn.
A horn echoes through the valley—low, mournful.
Hazel jerks awake, knife already in hand.
The fire has burned down to embers.
Then he sees them.
Riders.
Not Gaines’ men. New ones.
They sit silent in the mist, rifles slung across their backs, faces unreadable. Their leader rides a black horse, coat hanging loose, dust-colored. Scarred hands grip the reins.
Lucius Woundwort.
A legend. A nightmare.
His gaze is cold, wolfish.
“You ain’t the first to run here,” Woundwort says. “And you won’t be the last to bleed here.”
Hazel says nothing.
Because he knows.
This wasn’t a victory.
It was just another mistake.
OMG, I don't think I took a breath the entire time I read that