As the man in the moon peeked through the nearby window, Hex looked at her. She was beautiful. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew that beneath her good looks lay a poisonous snake.

He had met her earlier in the afternoon outside Greeley’s Bank. He’d been bringing in the reeking corpse of George Harknett. The outlaw was strapped across his saddle, drawing shit-green flies. He needed to make a stop at Greeley’s to collect the $500 bounty on Harknett.

She’d been stepping out of the front door as he approached. And as he neared her, Hex knew that she’d gone out of her way to bump into him.

“Watch where you’re going!” she’d yelled at him. A few people in the dusty street turned to look at her. Hex grunted and made to step around her.

“You’re not even going to say excuse me?” she’d asked.

“No,” said Hex.

“Well then,” she’d said, “I shall show that I have more manners than a goat like you.” She extended her hand. “My name is Rose.”

Hex peered down at her hand. He noticed that the skin was as white as the underbelly of a snake. Long sensuous fingers ended in blood-red nails.

“Jonah,” he told her. He tipped his hat at her. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” emphasizing his words, “I’ve got money to collect.”

She sniffed at Harknett’s corpse, wrinkling her face.

“Are you a bounty hunter?” she asked.

Hex nodded. He knew that he was turning her on.

“I’d love to hear the story of how you caught this bandit,” she said. “Would you like to be my guest at supper this evening?”

He stifled a laugh. “I’d like that very much, miss.”

“Please,” she said. “Call me Rose.”

He saw her drink in his scarred features. Her lovely eyes, blue as Scandinavian melted ice, roamed over his face. She looked at his eye, bulging from his face like a hard-boiled egg, and at the jagged strip of flesh dripping over his mouth as he sneered at her.

“I love your smile,” she said, ignoring his disdain. She winked at him before striding across the street. “I look forward to eating” – she covered her mouth with her hand – “meeting you later this evening.”

And that was how he’d come to be in her bed.

He’d collected his money from Greeley’s and then, as the sun melted into the horizon, rode to her house on the outskirts of town.

With two bulges in his pants, one from the crumpled $500 and another from his sexual lust for Rose, he’d hitched his horse outside. He’d gingerly knocked on her front door. He wasn’t surprised to see her open it butt-ass naked.

“Is there anything else you’d like to eat before supper?” she asked him.

Hex didn’t say a word as he hefted her into his arms. He carried her through the house, heeding her directions to the bedroom. He flopped her onto the bed and began to shuck his duds.

Now, as she rode him like an unsaddled horse, Hex forgot about any worries he might have. His next bounty, looking for an outlaw named Ripper Towels, faded to the back of his mind.

That’s when the screams and shouts erupted from outside.

Hex tossed Rose aside as he sat up on the bed.

“What the hell’s that?” he muttered.

Rose took the sweaty bed-sheets and wrapped them around her nakedness. Her bare feet padded on the floor as she ran to the window.

“Oh my God,” she said.

Hex was right behind her. He peered out the window over her shoulder.

Three men, dressed in the white garbs of the Ku Klux Klan, rode their horses around a large oak in the front yard. In the middle of them, sitting astride a nervous horse, sat a large black man. A noose, winding down from one of the oak’s skeletal limbs, was wrapped around his neck.

Hex sucked in a deep breath. He knew the black man sentenced to death.

He strapped his gun-belt around his naked waist. He thumbed open the chamber of his .44 Frontier Colt, making sure it was loaded. And then he grabbed his sawn-off shotgun sitting in the corner.

“Where are you going like that?” asked Rose. Even in the midst of the horror outside, she stifled a giggle. “You look ridiculous.”

Hex glanced down at himself. Aside from the gun-belt, he was only dressed in his cowboy boots.

“Well,” he said, hefting the shotgun, “I’ve always heard that if you’re going to die, it’s best to die with your boots on.”

1862

“I’ll give you hell, you bastards!”

Jonah Hex pressed down the trigger on the Gatlin gun. Bullets, hot and deadly, rained from its muzzle. They spat out of the weapon like angry hornets as they mowed down the approaching Union soldiers.

“Kill em all!” screamed Buck Clark. Clark rode around the wagon on which Jonah was perched. He raised his sword, gleaming in the hot sun, above his head and charged into the fray.

Hex kept the gun blazing until it clicked on empty. Then he jumped down from the wagon. He unhitched his mount tied to it and hauled himself into the saddle. He smashed his spurs into the horse’s side and tore into the battle unfolding before him.

On this hot day in August 1862, Union and Confederate troops had come to kill each other. Both armies suffered from their lack of water. And it was here, on this small bit of farmland in Kentucky, that they met. There was a muddy waterhole separating the rolling hills and a cornfield. It was here that death reined.

Jonah raced through the throng of Yankee troops. His sword, once gleaming silvery bright beneath the boiling sun, was now stained with dripping blood.

In the distance, he saw a rebel soldier in hand-to-hand combat with a Yankee. Their rifles, tipped with deadly bayonets, were clashed. Jonah raced towards them. He raised his silvery sword above his head and, with a terrifying yell, sliced it through the tepid air. The blade cut through the Union soldier’s neck, throwing his decapitated skull into the thick dust gathering around their feet.

The rebel nodded quiet thanks, and then charged into the fray. Seconds later, he was cut down by Union fire that burst through his belly. Jonah watched as he lay on the ground, attempting to push his guts back into his belly, as the young boy slowly died.

As he wheeled his horse around, Jonah saw Buck in the distance. He was riding through the throng of Union troops, swinging his sword madly as he sliced through the bluecoats.

And then there was the roar of cannon fire. A heavy cannonball, cutting through the air black-and-thick with cordite smoke, smashed through Buck’s body. Jonah could see through the hole in Buck’s chest before he slid from his saddle.

More cannon fire cut through the Confederate troops. Heads were blown from bodies and soldiers, their arms and legs savagely ripped from their bodies, lay dying and screaming for their mothers that would never come.

Jonah wheeled his horse around. A Union soldier thrust his bayonet deep into the animal’s body. It snorted a dusty howl as the wound spurted hot blood from its flank.

Hex sliced downward with his sword. The silver blade cut through the Yankee’s chest, burying itself deep. As the young man died, Jonah tried to wrench his sword free. But it appeared to be stuck within the soldier’s ribcage. He wrestled with it, destroying more of the dead boy’s innards.

Finally, his weapon free, Hex stumbled to the ground as his horse died.

He lay there on the dusty ground, attempting to gather his bearings as the battle raged around him. And then, emerging from the black smoke of more cannon fire, a Union soldier ran at him. Hex could see the sun glinting off the bayonet lunging straight at his heart.

As the soldier loomed above him like a vulture prepared to feed, a large black shadow fell from behind him. Large black hands gripped the man’s neck and, with a savage tear, twisted his head around on his shoulders.

Hex stared up at the ugly black man. Seed warts covered the man’s face. But his muscles were strong as they gripped Jonah beneath the armpits and dragged him into the safety of the cornfield.

Jonah lay there for a long moment. He sucked hot air into his lungs as he stared at the black man.

“You saved my life,” he managed to mutter. “I owe you one.”

“Name’s Amos,” said the black man. He looked around him, making sure that no more soldiers were charging him. “And you don’t owe me shit.”

“Like hell I don’t,” said Jonah. He looked into the dark pits of Amos’s eyes. “I won’t forget this.”

“And I’ll never forget that I helped a damned rebel,” said Amos. “If I didn’t have such a strong heart,” he thumped his chest with a fist, “your ass would be dead, now.”

“Where’d you come from, anyway?”

“I work over at Sawyer’s Farm,” said Amos, jerking his head towards the farmhouse in the distance. “Plenty of times I’ve cut down this cornfield. I never thought you warring boys would do the job for me.”

“Before we get too emotional,” said Hex, fanning the smoke away from his eyes, “and you end up trying to corn-hole me, it’s time to get back to the fighting.”

Amos picked up Hex’s sword. He wiped the blood away on his torn pants. The silver blade glistened brightly in the sunlight.

“I’ll take this in exchange for your life,” said Amos. Then he lifted the sword high above his head, charging off into the battle and leaving Hex behind. He screamed as he began to tear through the Union soldiers.

For a moment, Hex mourned the loss of his sword.

“Hi ho silver away,” he muttered, and then he followed Amos into the thick belly of combat.

_____

“What are you doing out here in your nakedness, sir?” The Klansman wheeled his horse around, directing it at Jonah Hex. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Amos, who was futilely struggling at the rope burning into his neck and wrists. “You’re no better than this savage!”

“Don’t tell me what I am,” said Hex. He snarled at the Klansman. “I know damn well who I am.”

Behind Hex, Rose ran into the yard. She was now draped in a flimsy nightgown that left little to the imagination.

“Rose!” cried the Klansman. He jerked off his white hood, revealing himself at the banker, Greeley. “Get your behind back in the house! You have no business out here.”

“Daddy!” screamed Rose. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“This savage came into the bank, today,” said Greeley. “He’s damned well interested in buying your farm.”

“Well,” said Rose, “it’s not for sale.”

“That’s beside the point,” said Greeley. “I’ll be damned if some savage if going to walk into a white man’s bank.” He looked over his shoulder at Amos and spat. “We’re here to teach this boy a lesson.”

“You’re best to just ride off,” said Hex, “before there’s any more trouble.”

“And you!” said Greeley. “Who do you think you are to be spending time with my daughter? You should be ashamed of yourself exposing your nakedness to the world and the fear of God!”

“God forgives,” said Jonah. He pulled the trigger on his sawn-off shotgun. The blast smashed Greeley in the face. Bones, brains, and broken teeth flew into the air as Greeley fell from his horse. His mount took off, dragging his corpse into the bush. “I don’t.”

“Daddy,” moaned Rose. She shot a deadly glance at Jonah. She pointed a finger at him. “Kill the bastard!”

As Jonah made to pull his .44 Frontier Colt, the horse holding Amos jerked forward. Hex watched the man be jerked into the air. Amos’s legs jerked as the noose bit into his flesh.

Jonah aimed a shot at the rope. It burst open and dropped Amos to the ground.

“You’ll die for helping that savage,” said one of the Klansman as he pointed his rifle at Jonah.

But Hex was faster. He aimed his .44 at the Klansman and pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped into the man’s chest, exploding his heart.

The Klansman’s mount ran into the other’s horse. Wheeling it around to get a clear shot at Hex, the final Klansman felt the bullet as it rammed between his eyes.

“You’re the Devil,” muttered Rose.

“Maybe I am,” said Hex. Shadows masked his face. His eyes peered out in slits. “You wanted me dead.”

“I didn’t know what I was saying,” said Rose. She took a step backward. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re damned right you’re sorry,” said Hex. He pointed his gun at her and fired. The bullet tore into her gut. Rose crumpled to the ground, crying. He walked over to her. “That stomach wound won’t kill you instantly,” he said. “You’re going to be in pain for a few hours before it takes your life.”

He left Rose where she was, screaming into the night.

Hex walked over to Amos. He stared into the wart-disfigured looks of the black man. He bent down and ran a hand over Amos’s broken neck.

“Well,” said Hex. “It looks like you got what you wanted.” He stuck his hand out and gently closed Amos’s eyes. “You ended up buying the farm.”

_____

Next Issue: A savage stagecoach attack leads Jonah Hex to an isolated church under siege from a band of outlaws. Trapped inside the church, which holds its own dark secret, only God and his .44 Frontier Colt can help Jonah escape.