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eBook Category: Alternate History
eBook Description: During the summer of 1834, a killer roamed the plains. One man attempts to track down this killer, known only as the disillusionist, and in the process he is given something from the killer that causes him to see his entire life--and his future--in a whole new light...

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Would That It Were, 2003
Fictionwise Release Date: February 2004

23 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [27 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [33 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [12 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [60 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [13 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [64 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [84 KB] , hiebook (KML) [59 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [39 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [11 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [14 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [42 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [22 KB]
Words: 4142
Reading time: 11-16 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

I was a day behind him, riding west as fast as my horse would allow. He held my future in his rotting, trembling hands, though neither of us knew it then.

Until my deputization just fifteen days ago, I had been flailing and floundering with the direction of my life like a tired man in deep water. I left Kentucky years ago, traveling to Orleans and Illinois, searching for something more from life, knowing I needed to do my part for my country. This nomadic life came hard on the heels of my defeat for the Illinois General Assembly, which in its turn followed the nightmare of the Black Hawk War. It was the summer of 1834, and I was twenty-five.

I rode west, followed hard by spirits. Everywhere I looked, I could still see their faces--not those of my political opponents, but those of the dying redskins. To be honest, I had no qualms about volunteering to help with the Indian troubles in my adopted state of Illinois. I was elected captain of my company, though we did little fighting, and my men reminded me to duck to avoid making such a large target. I would respond that, despite my height, I was too thin to hit.

The sudden appearance of Chief Black Hawk leading his hungry people across the Mississippi back to their ancestral lands near Rock Island to plant their corn created a panic. The Indians were driven by the militia into Wisconsin and slaughtered like wild animals. I could hear the gunshots in my head, as if my skull was empty and the bullets still reverberated inside it.

Since that battle, I'd been rootless. As spring drifted into summer, I again considered running again for the legislature. Part of me knew that if I brought in the killer with the strange nickname, I would have an easier time of being elected.

I pushed those prideful thoughts out of my head as I read about the him, spreading madness and death across the Great Plains: he would enter a town in the morning, plant posters at noon, and perform in the evening. By midnight he was gone again, leaving most of the townspeople dead in his wake.

I decided that my future in civil service could be put on hold until this madman could be stopped. I volunteered to bring in the disillusionist.