A furious wind howled. Dust billowing around a figure riding on a horse. His head hung low, mask pulled over his mouth and nose as the horse trotted slowly. Then it began to rain, first off it came down like mud. The dust settled down as the rain continued to pour.

The figure continued his way through the high desert. The horse flared its nostrils, clearing out the dust. The figure patted his steed having it continue forward until they reached the town.

“A little further, bud,” he said, his voice scratchy, “Another hour or so,”

The horse shook its head and paused for a moment before reluctantly pushing forward when his rider patted him on the rear. The rain picked up as the pair pushed on. The leather jacket he wore once coated with dust, now deflecting water. It protected most of his body from the water.

The rest of the ride was uneventful as the storm passed. Lightning crackled and thunder howled as the rider entered the town. He found a stable and guided his steed in. After removing the saddle and his bags, he locked the door behind him. “Rest up,” he said before his making his way to the inn.

As he entered, a couple rose their heads to look at him. He removed his hat and bandana from his face. “Is that you, Arius?” spoke an old man as the rider stepped up to a coat rack and set his duster to dry.

“Professor, I’m surprised you’re still here. How long has it been?” Arius stepped up to the bar where a well-dressed older man was sitting with a glass of whiskey in hand. The barkeep brought out another glass and filled it for the young man, without Arius ever saying a word. “You didn’t have to,” he said before the old man dismissed the boy’s worry.

“Drink and have a seat.” he insisted as he took a sip of his own drink. It was clear by his rosy cheeks that he was several glasses in. “What brings you back to Ghost’s Chapel?”

“Why such a grim name for a town? What was it called before this story cropped up?” Arius asked himself before answering the Professor’s question, "Another tale brought me here, same as you, I suppose, professor." 

“More of those, eh? You’ve chased spirits and demons for how many years now?” The professor didn't confirm nor deny Arius' claim. A researcher of the occult and the paranormal, famous for debunking many a charlatan as well as finding, in his own experiences, undeniable proof of something beyond the mortal plane, he couldn't help himself whenever a new story reached his ears. 

“Since my folks died,” Arius guessed around 10 years or so, “I’m surprised you have continued to believe me for so long.” Most called him crazy, that so many days out in the sun and in the desert alone, drove this young man mad until they saw what he could see.

“Well, now you have your chance to prove to me you aren’t mad, that you aren’t some sort of raving lunatic wandering around the west, shooting at nothing,” The professor looked at the clock that ticked away. “This storm should break by midnight,” he rose from his seat and stumbled his way to the stairs, “Wake me when the clouds part,” The stairs creaked under his stumbling steps.

The boy nodded and finished his drink before asking for a room. The innkeeper took Arius’ things upstairs without him asking.

Then Arius caught the scent of alcohol, three men approached Arius from behind. Rather than go for his gun, his gnarled hand inched towards the knives in his coat. “Aren’t ya that mad brat people been sayin’ that howls in graveyards and conjures up demons?”

The boy nodded, “Yeah some rumors like that float around. Though, I don’t conjure demons. I send them back is all.”

“Sounds like witchcraft,” My eyes met a pair of bloodshot ones as he spoke that.

“No more witchcraft than what those padres in Rome do. ‘Cept, God doesn’t speak to me,” Arius paused, “These are the Godless lands after all. Men, women, children, spirits, and demons don’t follow laws and power.”

Arius heard three distinct clicks and slowly drew out three knives. His bright blue eyes caught the men flinching just before the door opened up again, and a star glistened in the gaslight. “Sheriff’s in town, boys. Put yer toys away and leave the kid alone.” A gruff voice spoke out before the three troublemakers stepped back.

“You oughta keep yer mouth shut, kid. Folks around still follow the Lord, even out here. This town is full of...sensitive bunches...like those three.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sheriff.”

The man stroked his mustache before looking Arius over. “I heard a stranger was in town. Didn’t think it was the kid that brought in a half-dead man, what is it now, 3 years ago?”

“Surprised you remember the face of a kid, who was only here for a day, sir.”

He mumbled something but Arius didn’t catch it. The superstitious lot settled down, at least for now, while the Sheriff spoke with Arius.

“Now, instead of reminiscing, why are you here, boy?”

Arius sighed, he hated explaining himself more than once. “Same reason as last time. Dealin’ with the dead or the damned, sometimes two in one, sir.”

Sheriff rolled his eyes, “This town was barely off its feet when you showed up then it took on this forsaken name,” he shot back a harsh, foul-smelling whiskey.

“No worries sir, once I handle everything. It will just be a story, passed down from your kids to their own...before being forgotten.”

“I just stopped you from gettin’ shot by those idiots over there. What makes you think you can handle some ghost story?”

“Because…” Arius from his seat as the moonlight began to peek through the clouds, “The dead tend to be easier than the living.” With that, the young man traveled upstairs and found the professor passed out. After a few splashes of water, the professor gathered his things and began to follow Arius towards the chapel sitting in the middle of town.