Chapter 1
The heavy wool of Caleb’s dark trench coat rasped against the parched dirt of the dusty street as he shifted his weight. The relentless sun beat down on the abandoned settlement, baking the rotting wood of the Lucky Star Saloon until the pine sap boiled. He kept his eyes fixed on the two identical five-year-old girls standing before him in their tattered, dirt-caked yellow dresses. Their bare feet were bruised and calloused from miles of harsh terrain. Between them, they clutched a single, stale piece of gray bread like it was a sacred artifact.
Caleb swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. He kept his voice low, measured, refusing to startle them.
“Where are your mother and father?” he asked softly, his gaze sweeping the empty boardwalks for any sign of life.
The taller of the two sisters, the one with matted brown hair clinging to her damp forehead, tightened her grip on her sister's shoulder. She looked down at the dirt, her small jaw clenching with a defensive stubbornness that felt far too heavy for her years.
“We don't got none,” the girl muttered, her voice barely louder than the desert wind.
Caleb frowned, his hand instinctively drifting toward the brim of his black cowboy hat to shield his eyes from the glare.
“Everyone's got someone, little one. Tell me the truth. Where do you sleep when the sun goes down?”
The little girl raised her chin, her eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp defiance that caught him off guard.
“Somewhere,” she whispered, her tone chillingly final.
Beside her, the smaller sister finally lifted her head. Her eyes were wide, wet with unsphed tears, and she pointed a trembling, dirt-smudged finger directly at the swinging batwing doors of the Lucky Star Saloon behind Caleb.
“Underneath,” the younger one blurted out, her voice cracking. “In the dark where the whispering man lives.”
Caleb froze. The wind died down completely, leaving an unnatural silence hanging over the dead street. He slowly turned his head to stare at the weathered saloon.
“There’s nobody in that saloon, kid,” Caleb said, standing up slowly and brushing the dust from his knees. “The town cleared out three winters ago. It’s a ghost town.”
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The older sister shook her head violently, stepping in front of her sibling as if to protect her from his disbelief.
“He’s down there right now,” she hissed, her eyes locking onto his with terrifying clarity. “And he’s wearing your dead brother's boots.”
