Blood on the Red Mesa

Sheriff Silas Boone rode slowly along the trail at the base of Red Mesa, the sun dipping behind the cliffs, setting the desert ablaze in red and orange. Dust brushed around his boots and spurs, and his horse sneezed.

Boone’s hand gripped the worn leather of his belt, fingers brushing the small Bible tucked there. The Bible was ripped with tears on every corner but every page was still intact. On the other side lay his revolver, but his hand always rested on the book instead of the firearm.

He recited a prayer, silently

“Lord, guide my eyes and steady my hand. Protect your people from whatever waits in the dark corners of this town.”

Ahead, the remains of a cow were sprawled out on the dirt, hide torn, insides gone. Kneeling, Silas traced the strange footprints around the carcass—long, narrow, almost human. The tread was too wide for a man, and too deliberate for an animal.

A shout called out from the eerie observation.

“Sheriff! You need to come quick!”

Adeline Woolf, coat flapping in the wind, ran toward him. “The storm… it blew something behind the saloon,” she panted. “Come quick!”

Silas hurried over in curiosity.

Partially buried in the dust lay a human foot, pale and battered.

Silas swallowed hard. “It’s not just livestock anymore. It’s taking human life. And whatever’s out there… it’s clever. Dangerous.”

He glanced at Red Mesa’s rigid hills. In the dim light, he thought he saw a pale, ragged figure flit between the rocks, hunched, watching. Silas drew a deep breath, whispering another prayer,

“Lord, give me courage. Whatever’s out there, let Your light pierce this darkness.”

Adeline placed a hand on his arm. “Sheriff… be careful. Pray with me if you need strength.”

Silas nodded. “We’ll face this together. God will guide our steps.”

Back in Adeline’s saloon, the heavy doors creaked shut behind them, cutting off the wind and dust. Above their heads, an antler chandelier swayed slightly from a dark timber beam. Thick beeswax tapers flickered atop its sharp branches, casting moving ghostly figures across the walls and floor.

The bar, scarred with decades of knife marks and spilled drinks, caught glints of firelight that made it appear almost blood-red. Tables and chairs leaned uneven, their corners distressed.

“Come inside,” she said quietly, “ I made some fresh lemonade.” her voice steady despite the dust storm brewing.

Silas’s eyes scanned the room, catching movement in the flickering candlelight. Every creak of the floorboards, and sway of the chandelier, seemed to warn of something lurking just beyond sight. He carried the Bible at his chest, inhaling deeply. Something’s not right.

“It’s watching us” he says from behind the bar.

“Who?” She questioned in fright.

“I don’t know. But I feel it. And it’s here.”

Adeline nodded, not understanding but didn’t need to. She learned a long time ago that the need to understand everything was control out of reach here in Red Mesa. She trusted Boones judgment and instincts. They’ve never lead her wrong yet. Lighting a few extra candles, a soft halo hovered over, remembering that faith could pierce even the darkest of night, as it had done for them before.

Later the next day, the three—Silas, Adeline, and Jedidiah Carver, a young scout and trusted assistant of Boone, followed the trail up the winding cliffs of Red Mesa. The wind tarried loud. Strange noises of snapping rocks, guttural rasping, faint screams howled from hidden caves.

They found evidence of the creature’s intelligence and malice, half-eaten cattle, torn scraps of cloth, and human remains partially hidden under rocks. A human finger crunched under Adeline’s boot. Jumping back, she squealed.

As they moved closer, the walls bore scratches and crude symbols etched in dried blood.

Silas whispered again, “It’s watching us”

A pale, emaciated figure darted between dark corners. Silas’s pulse quickened. “It’s no beast,” he muttered.

Jedidiah questioned, “what is it Sheriff?!”

“This is human… but tormented. I believe, the creature resides.”

Adeline’s hand gripped her throat softly. “We pray together. He’s still a child of God, even in this darkness.”

She whispers behind Silas’ ear.

Deep in the cave, the creature crouched, pale and ragged, with deep gashes marking his arms and torso and blood dripping from self-inflicted wounds. His eyes, wild and frantic, locked on Silas.

“Mercy… please… mercy…” he rasped.

Silas knelt a few feet away, Bible in hand. “You are not beyond God’s mercy,” he said. “Even here”

The man fell to his knees, sobbing. “I…

“I… I see Him,” the creature gasped.

Adeline whispered, “See who?”

Jedidiah placed a careful arm infront of them knowing as the man was still dangerously off kilter and that this might be his tactic to lure in humans to trust him. Trickery to nurture his desire for cannibalism.

But something stirred in the creature. The creature trembled violently, wracked by fear and guilt. Slowly, terror in his eyes widened.

“I see HIM… in you,” the creature froze.

His teeth clacking against eachother.

“Nothing is beyond His forgiveness,” Silas replied firmly.

Silas raised the Bible like a shield of faith and prayed aloud, voice steady over the blood-ripe cave,

“Lord, cast out the darkness. Free this soul. Let Your light pierce every shadow. Deliver him from evil, and give us courage to stand in Your truth.”

The cave seemed to vibrate with force. The man screamed—a long, tortured sound—then went still. His eyes, once wild, now glimmered with humanity, hope, and recognition.

Silence moved over Red Mesa. Then came thunderous pounding, crunching through the cliffs. Dust rattled down the stone as smaller rocks blew in.

Adeline’s eyes widened. “Do you hear that? The cattle… or the herd?

Silas turned toward Jedidiah, “Did we round them up this morning?”

They stepped out of the cave, sand whipping their faces. Across the valley, a flood of swine—hundreds of them—came running down the slopes, hooves stomping the ground.

The herd surged like a living river, red dust spiraling into the twilight sky.