A Fistful of Horror - Tales Of Terror From The Old West (13 page)

Pa brought us to Red Rock from Ohio when he took a job as the town preacher and we spent all the money we had on buying the house.

A righteous man, Pa had big dreams for Red Rock but he couldn’t turn his back on evil when he saw it and made a lot of enemies by speaking out.

Righteous men didn’t live long in Red Rock. Pa was shot in the back leaving the church.

Sheriff Wilson was a practical man and didn’t do much about catching Pa’s killer. It was no secret who was responsible.

Billy Hanson, the spoiled, arrogant, only son of Ralph Hanson, the richest cattle rancher in the county bragged about it openly.

Mr. Hanson beat Billy within an inch of his life but let it be known he’d kill anyone who tried to arrest his boy and ordered Billy to stay away from us. Since Billy was mortally afraid of his Pa he did.

Ma turned the junk room upstairs into a bedroom, renting it out by the week and the front room downstairs into a dining room.

Since the murders, those who paid for a room didn’t stay more than a night or two before they heard the rumours about the dead who wouldn’t stay dead and ate human flesh and high tailed it to the next town. The last two weeks, the room upstairs was empty even though we lowered the rent.

Half the time, the tables in the dining room with the red and white checkered tablecloths Ma made were empty. The town was turning into a ghost town right before our eyes and we were not only scared but feeling the pinch.

I sighed as I stared out the window at the pouring rain and felt sorry for myself. I knew I shouldn’t act like a baby because there was no money for a present. If I was lucky, Ma would make me a chocolate cake.

It was because I was staring out the window instead of doing chores that I was the first to see Cole Brannigan ride into town.

“Victoria Rose,” I told you to put the napkins and silverware out,” Ma sighed. “Just because it’s your birthday, is no reason to slack off.”

“A stranger just rode into town. He’s stopping at the Sheriff’s office.”

Ma joined me at the window.

“It’s no business of ours,” she said grimly, moving way. “Set the tables.”

As I finished up, there was a knock on the door. When I opened it, Sheriff Wilson stood beside the stranger.

When they stepped in, stamped the mud off their boots and took off their hats, they dripped at least a gallon of water onto the mat.

Ma came out to see who had arrived wiping her hands on her apron. When she saw Sheriff Wilson she pressed her lips tight and wouldn’t look him in the eye but she was polite.

“Good evening, Sheriff.”

“Ma’am.”

“Tonight we have meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green peas with onions and apple crumb pie. Victoria can show you to your seats.”

“We’re not here to just to eat though your food is mighty good,” he added but Ma still didn’t smile.

Sheriff Wilson wasn’t bad looking and he liked Ma. If she gave him any encouragement he would have asked her to marry him but Ma couldn’t forgive him for not going after Pa’s killer. I felt the same.

He sighed. “This here is Cole Brannigan. He’s going to look into the…” he glanced at me, “the troubles we’ve been having lately and he needs a place to stay. I told him you had a room to rent and he’s prepared to pay whatever you ask.”

I studied the stranger. Muscular with a barrel chest he looked like a man who spent a lot of time outdoors. He had prominent cheekbones, an aquiline nose, his skin was dark and had a copper colour to it as if he might have some Indian blood in him.

Mr. Brannigan had a hard face that gave little away but it was his eyes that were really strange. They were a pale yellow with a dark red colour around the pupils. I never saw eyes like that in any man, Indian or white.

He caught me staring at him and smiled. It was a nice smile and I smiled back.

“The room comes with meals. No drinking on the premises and no women,” Ma said firmly.

“No ma’am. I’ll take it for a month.” He reached into his pocket and took out a handful of bills.

It was more than we’d seen in a long time and for a second Ma was so relieved she didn’t say anything so I piped up. “I’ll show Mr. Brannigan to his room,” and led him upstairs.

The room was small but Ma made it cheerful with a yellow and blue quilt and a rag rug. There were cheap prints on the walls, a basin and pitcher on a side table and an old, walnut bureau with a mirror that wasn’t so distorted, a man couldn’t shave.

“There’s an extra blanket in the bottom drawer.” I picked up the white pitcher decorated with yellow daisies. “I’ll get you some hot water to wash with.”

“Appreciate it,” Brannigan said and I left.

When I returned and knocked he opened the door blocking the entrance…

“Thanks,” he said taking the pitcher from me.

I glanced inside, sensing he didn’t want me to see what was there.

I spotted a soft, doe skin pouch decorated with colourful beadwork and fringe on the bed along with knives and sticks of sage. On the bureau was a needle and beside it, several vials of bright green liquid.

“Are you part Indian?” I blurted out before he could shut the door.

He studied me. “You afraid of Indians?”

“Nope.”

“That’s good.”

You don’t look like a Comanche,” I added. The Comanche inhabited the territory around Red Rock until Quadi Parker surrendered a year ago and the tribe was moved to Fort Sill, Oklahoma.

“I’m Navaho on my mother’s side.”

He tried to shut the door again but I’m persistent.

“Supper’s in ten minutes. Are you here to kill the monsters?”

He smiled. “See you at supper.”

He shut the door and I went back downstairs to help Ma in the kitchen.

***

Sheriff Wilson joined Mr. Brannigan for supper. They were our only customers.

I was refilling their coffees when Ralph Hanson and his foreman, Dale Emerson walked in. I was surprised. Mr. Hanson knew we hated his guts for perverting the course of justice in Pa’s murder.

Mr. Hanson and Dale dragged over two chairs and joined Brannigan and the Sheriff.

“Two more coffees and some of your Ma’s pie,” Mr. Hanson said without looking at me.

I glared at him until he turned his ice blue eyes on me.

“Go on, Victoria,” Sheriff Wilson said gently. “It’s business.” I sucked my teeth and dragged my feet but did as he bid.

Ralph Hanson was over six feet and his fair hair was sprinkled with silver. Unlike his son, if he shot you, it would be face to face…

Dale was easy going, loyal and shrugged off his boss’ tendency to deliver sarcastic quips. In return, he was the only man Mr. Hanson would listen to when advice went contrary to his own. Whenever Dale came into town, he would stop to tell a joke but since the troubles began, I hadn’t seen much of him.

Delivering the pies and coffee, I could sense the tension at the table. “Anything else,” I asked.

“You can go,” Dale said shortly without a smile or anything. His abrupt dismissal upset me. I thought we were friends. I made my face blank so he wouldn’t see I was hurt.

As I walked past Mr. Hansen, I heard him say, “You took your time getting here Brannigan.”

I didn’t rush right out. Ma said I had big ears and I do.

“I had some business to take care of in El Paso but I’m here now,” Brannigan replied.

“You tell me why you think you can do what none of the rest of us can?” Mr. Hanson demanded.

I shamelessly plastered myself against the wall right outside the dining room and listened.

“Once this disease takes hold it can wipe out an entire town. I can stop it.”

“How? You’re not a doctor,” Dale pointed out dryly.

“In its early stages the illness can look like a disease and it can be spread by contact with an infected person but it’s not strictly speaking a disease at all.”

“What kind of double talk bull is that?” Hanson snapped.

“Dark magic is at the root of the troubles in Red Rock.”

“Magic’s for ignorant savages,” Mr. Hanson said in that sarcastic way he had that could shrivel a man’s soul. I felt embarrassed for Mr. Brannigan.

“That don’t make it less real,” Brannigan said unruffled. I’m not lying when I say it will continue until the town and surrounding area is filled with the walking dead.”

There was silence until the Sheriff asked, “How do we stop it?”

“You don’t. I do.”

“Listen here Brannigan we’re paying you a hell of a lot of money. We’ve got a right to know how you’re going to do it,” Mr. Hanson said coldly.

“I work alone and have my own methods.”

“Mr. Hanson just wants to help. Hell, all of us do,” Dale interjected.

“The missing people and those infected either work for or have business with the Hansen ranch which is telling.”

“What the hell are you saying?” Mr. Hansen sputtered.

“Somebody’s got a grudge against you.”

“That’s crazy. It’s a damn plague.”

“I heard you had a son.”

“I’m not proud of him but Billy’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Mr. Hanson sent him to Sweetwater to buy a horse but he’s due back tonight.”

“If I were you, I’d send him far away.”

I didn’t get to hear the rest. The floor squeaked in back of me and I felt a sharp pain as Ma’s hand grabbed my ear and dragged me away.

“Ow!”

“Victoria Rose, how many times have I told you not to listen at doors,” Ma whispered furious. “If you want something to do, you can clean the stove, scrub the kitchen floor and tomorrow you can beat all the rugs.

“Ma!” I whined as we entered the big, black and white kitchen and she handed me a scrub brush with stiff bristles. “It’s not fair. It’s my birthday.”

Ma smiled. “When you finish cleaning and blackening the stove you can have a glass of milk and a piece of chocolate cake.”

The cake was good but after all the chores I went to bed exhausted and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I was jolted awake in the middle of the night wondering what had startled me. I heard the sound of the front door rattling. I got out of bed and walked over to the window pulling it up. It squeaked. Cold air rushed in and I shivered.

The dark, misshapen form below moved. It’s body stretched and changed into a coyote. Glancing up, its red eyes glowed in the dark, and snarled before taking off.

I slammed the window shut, ran back to bed and pulled the covers over me. Shutting my eyes tight, I told myself I was dreaming. It was a while before I finally dozed off.

In the morning the sun was shining and I smelled coffee and bacon. Brushing my hair and washing my face, I told myself I was just all nerved up by what I heard the night before and dashing into the kitchen gave Ma a hug.

She hugged me back but she hadn’t forgotten about my punishment. “The rugs are waiting. Start with the hall ones. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

I sighed. I knew unlike Pa, Ma wouldn’t relent, so I set to it.

Ma called me in to breakfast a half hour later. She served Mr. Brannigan herself after I returned to beat the rugs out back.

When I stopped to wipe the sweat and grit off my face I sensed someone in back of me and whipped around to find Brannigan watching me.

“I assume when you stood outside the dining room last night, you heard what we were discussing.”

“Some” I admitted, embarrassed, thinking he must have heard Ma dragging me away.

“It’s too dangerous for you and your Ma to stay here.”

“All we got is this house.”

“A house is just a thing. It can be replaced.”

When I didn’t reply he sighed, “Tell me about the Hanson’s.”

“Mr. Hanson is the most powerful man in Red Rock. Most folks resent him only they’re too afraid to say so.”

“What about his son?”

“Billy should burn in Hell. He killed my Pa.”

“And Dale Emerson?”

“He’s okay.”

“It must be hard to work for a man like Mr. Hanson.”

“They get along.”

“Any particular person resent Mr. Hanson more than another?”

“If a rancher can’t meet his payments, Mr. Hanson buys him out but he gives him a fair price,” I added reluctantly, “only nobody likes to lose their home. He’s a lot richer since the Comanche left.”

“How so?”

“He was first to lay claim to the best land even before it went on sale. People felt he used his influence to get a special deal with the government.”

“I understand the Indian attacks were pretty severe around here.”

“Red Rock was wiped out once.”

“I noticed a big scar on Mr. Emerson’s neck. Was that from an Indian attack?”

“Dale came down with double pneumonia. He was in a coma for three days. Doc had to open his throat so he could breathe. Nobody thought he’d pull through. Doc said it was a miracle.”