Reuben followed the man back outside and stood with him on the porch. “Who is it you’re looking for?”
“White-haired men called Ashford Sinclair and Lorenzo Escalante,” the man said. “Perhaps they go by different names now.”
“I know them both,” Reuben said. “They’re here in Elan Valley. Or rather, they were.”
“Do tell.”
“They were involved in some serious trouble not too far from here at a place called Granger Ranch. Whole lot of killing that, to be honest, I’m still trying to make sense of. I think your friends might have been killed there as well, though I haven’t seen their bodies to be sure.”
The man sighed and said, “That is most unfortunate. How I have prayed for years on end that I might lay eyes upon them once more.”
Reuben cocked his head toward him. “What are you? Some sort of preacher?”
The man tipped his head and rolled his hand. “I go by the old ways, and thus, the old names. Call me what thou wilt.”
Reuben felt a flood of relief. “Well, I should have known from all the robes and all. Phew.” He took off his hat to wipe his forehead. “It’s been one hell—heck—one heck of a crazy day, I don’t mind telling you.”
“I have no doubt, fair Sheriff,” the man in the mask said. “I thank thee for thy time. We shall take our leave.”
As the man in the mask walked down the steps, Reuben snapped his fingers and said, “You know, maybe you can help me out with something. I’ve been trying to get Jesse Sinclair and her son, Connor, to tell me what really happened with their old man over at Granger Ranch. I think that Escalante fella’s daughter is over there too. Only trouble is, none of them will talk to me. You think you might be able to go over there, as a preacher and all, and see if they’ll talk to you? I’d love to hear the truth about what happened just so I can put the investigation to rest.”
The man in the mask turned to face the sheriff.
“You know, if it’s not too much trouble, that is,” Reuben added.
“The families of Ashford Sinclair and Lorenzo Escalante are here?”
“Yes, sir,” Reuben said. “Right over in Edna’s Prayer, about a day’s ride west.”
The Red Priest’s eyes glittered beneath his mask. “Thou shalt feast with me at the bacchanal for this.”
“I look forward to it,” Reuben said. “I think.”
As the Red Priest turned to leave, Reuben called after him. “Hey, if you all are looking for a place to stay, I know a few hotel owners in Honey Hook who might have rooms enough to fit your group.”
“There is talk of those who dwell in your woods, who live like animals and eat raw human flesh,” the Red Priest said.
“Those are just stories,” Reuben said.
“I wish to see for myself.”
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I did not ask what thou thought.”
“It’s not exactly easy to get to,” Reuben said, “and once you get there, you’ll be on your own. No one will hear you call for help and no one will be able to find you. It will be like the trees have swallowed you whole.”
“The forest and I are old friends,” the Red Priest said. “Speak.”
PART TWO
MEALS FOR HUNGRY CHILDREN
CHAPTER SIX
Jesse Sinclair looked out from her bedroom window and saw that the fence posts needed mending. They’d needed mending for a while, but with everything that had happened in the last year, it was just one of those things a person lets slip by. Like the chicken coop that needed cleaning and the horse stalls that needed sweeping and the cattle pen that needed rewiring, and the list went on, like an ancient scroll that kept unraveling and never reached the end. And that was just the ranch list. There was a separate list for the things that needed tending to in the house.
At night, she stayed awake listening to a voice in her mind rattle off the things on the lists that needed to be done. It was the same voice that told her she’d never survive without William by her side and that it would be easier to just give up now.
It would take dozens of hired hands to make enough repairs even to sell Edna’s Prayer, let alone start operating again. Unfortunately, there wasn’t money to hire a single decent hand. She’d have to settle for someone desperate or dumb instead. That didn’t matter. Desperate and dumb was fine, as long as they were honest and hardworking.
She put the word out that she needed help and what she was willing to pay for it and no one had shown up for three straight days. She walked into the kitchen and saw Miss Rena at the stove cooking. “Morning, Miss Rena. Need a hand?”
“No, ma’am,” Miss Rena said. “You just sit yourself down and let me take care of everything.”
“Still no takers on our job posting, I see,” Jesse said.
“Well, I’ve got good news,” Rena said. “I prayed on it last night and I’m telling you, today is the day.”
Jesse waited for Miss Rena to finish pouring her coffee. “Let’s hope so.”
Miss Rena set the coffeepot on the stove and picked up a frying pan full of sizzling eggs. “That big white one’s not laying no eggs, still. All the others are pulling their weight except her.”
“I can’t say I blame her,” Jesse said. “State that coop’s in, I wouldn’t lay eggs in there either.”
“Well, I say if she don’t want to lay eggs, her time is up and we have ourselves a roasted chicken dinner this evening,” Rena said. “I used the last of the money to restock the pantry, so there’s enough ingredients for me to make some of them side dishes you love. It’s a good thing too, because there’s hardly anything left in the cellar except cobwebs and lantern oil. I’m glad Mr. William bought them big cans back when that man came through. Remember that?”
“I remember how mad I was that he spent so much money on so much lantern oil. He was always doing things like that. It used to drive me crazy.”
“Lantern oil don’t go bad and we still got a big old can of it left. Good thing too, since we don’t have the money for more of it,” Miss Rena said. “Every time I turn on the lights, I thank him for thinking so far ahead.”
Jesse picked up her coffee mug and sipped. It was hot and strong but felt good going down. “You know, I’m not ready to give up on that chicken just yet,” she said. “Let me think about it some more.”
Rena put eggs on both of their plates then brought out a bowl of biscuits. “There’s no butter.”
“That’s fine,” Jesse said. She broke up the biscuit in two and dipped it into the center of the egg’s yolk. She took a bite, then as she licked the yolk off her fingers she saw someone riding a horse down the path toward their house. “Someone’s coming,” she said.
Rena put her fork down and wiped at her hands and mouth with a napkin. “Who is it? A new ranch hand?”
“I’m not sure.” Jesse set her plate aside and got up to check that she hadn’t gotten any food on her shirt or skirt.
Rena started patting the back of her hair to make sure it was all pinned in place. “What’s he look like? Is he handsome?”
“What difference does that make?” Jesse asked. “I’m hiring a ranch hand, not someone to stand around for us to gawk at.”
“How do I look?”
“You look fine. Come on, let’s go meet him at the door.”
They stepped outside just as the horse slowed to a stop. The man in the saddle certainly didn’t look desperate, Jesse thought. That meant he was most certainly dumb. He was tall and lean and had bright blue eyes and curly black hair that came down past his neck. Beside her, Rena squirmed with delight and Jesse elbowed her in the side.
“Good morning,” Jesse said. “Are you here about the job?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Name’s Perry Cooke. I heard you all were looking for some help?”
“That we
are. There’s not much money to start off, but as we get going, you’ll see it in your wages,” Jesse said.
“Suits me,” he said. He looked around the ranch and took in the sight of the barns and animals roaming about in front of them. “This is a nice place you have here.”
“Well, it needs a lot of work,” Jesse said.
“Just a little tender care is all,” he said.
Rena squirmed again and Jesse whispered for her to stop it. She smiled at Cooke and said, “Hitch your horse and I’ll show you around.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cooke said.
Rena leaned forward to watch him maneuver his horse to the post and get down to tie it. She fanned her face and said, “I’m in love.”
“Would you quit it?” Jesse said.
“You want some coffee, sir?” Rena called out. “I just made it.”
“Why yes, I would,” Cooke said. He smiled at Rena and said, “I appreciate you offering it to me.”
Rena burst through the front door and took off running back into the kitchen to fetch it.
Jesse could not help but laugh. “Don’t mind her,” she said. “She’s just excited to see a fresh face around here for once.”
Cooke kept smiling, despite the confusion in his eyes. “Mind her about what, ma’am?”
So, dumb it is, Jesse thought. Long as he can mend a fence, it won’t matter one bit.
* * *
* * *
After they toured the property, Jesse brought Cooke to the sheds that were tucked in the corner, near the woods, as far from the house and animals as possible. “These are where we keep the supplies we don’t want anyone fooling with. Black powder. Rat poison. Hell, there might even be Chinese fireworks and crates of dynamite back here. I don’t know. My husband was always buying supplies and stuffing them back here so I didn’t see them. If there’s anything you need and you can’t find it, ask me and I’ll take a look. Chances are it’s locked away for a reason.”
As they turned to leave, Cooke cocked his head toward the hill across from the sheds where all of the trees and brush had been cleared away to make a well-trod path. “What’s up there?” he asked.
“My husband, William,” Jesse said. “And his mother, Edna, who we named this place after. Also, his father’s up there now too. We just buried him not too long ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cooke said.
“It’s fine,” Rena cut in. “He was old. We weren’t that attached to him anyway.”
“Well, I’m sure they’d all be mighty impressed with how you’ve kept the place up all by yourself,” Cooke said. “And, of course, you too, Miss Rena. I’m sure you’re part of the reason it’s so pretty around here.”
Rena beamed. She slid her arm through his and said, “Do you like chicken, Mr. Perry? I was just telling Mrs. Jesse that I was going to make a big fancy chicken dinner tonight, right before you showed up.”
“It’s been a long time since I had any kind of chicken dinner,” Cooke said.
“You better work yourself up an appetite, then, because when I cook, I cook enough for the whole US Cavalry, even if it’s just me and Mrs. Jesse. There’ll be biscuits and gravy and green beans and glazed carrots and you name it. You did say you were going to stay, didn’t you?” Rena asked.
He looked back at Jesse and said, “I’d like to, if that’s all right with you, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“Yes,” Jesse said. “I think you’ll do just fine here.”
Rena’s smile widened. She pulled Cooke toward the house and chattered on about what else she was going to cook for dinner. Jesse turned back toward the hill. It had been a while since she’d cleared off the gravesites. Maybe when there’s more time, she thought. After all, it was just a hill. The bodies buried there were nothing anymore except bones and rotting carcasses. It mattered not to them whether the grass was tall or short. It mattered not to them whether anyone came to visit. It mattered not to them whether the rest of the world knew they were there.
Jesse turned to follow Miss Rena and Perry Cooke back to the house and decided that together, the three of them would be able to see to whatever repairs were needed around Edna’s Prayer to get it up and running again. Then she would sell it.
* * *
* * *
The tracks led out of the woods toward a main road. They were easy to follow. Such a large group, with no care for covering their trail. Edwin Folsom could have followed them anywhere in the country. A sign placed on the side of the road read elan valley. The tracks went past the sign toward a wooden building that was too small to be a house or a school but too large to be the tax collector or land development office. The wooden boards that formed it were weathered and gray. Its roof needed new shingles. The windows were crusted with dirt and yellowed with age. As he got closer, he saw there were iron bars on all the windows.
Folsom stopped his horse in front of the hitching post and got down. He tied his horse, then looked down at his badge. He wet his thumb on his tongue and wiped its metal surface to clean it off, then adjusted his gun belt and went up the steps.
* * *
* * *
Inside the sheriff’s office, Elliot Reuben Jr. sat at his desk, sleepily rubbing his eyes. The prisoners were still in their bunks, but they were awake and talking loudly. “What’s for breakfast, Sheriff?” Cody Canada asked. “I’d like some coffee, some biscuits and gravy, a whole heap of eggs, bacon, some sausage, and grits. How about you, Blackjack? You want grits?”
“No,” McGinty said. “I don’t like them.”
“You hear that, Sheriff?” Canada asked. “No grits for Mr. McGinty. How about some chopped-up potatoes and onions, Blackjack? You want them instead?”
“That’d be mighty fine,” McGinty said.
“You got all that, Sheriff? Grits for me, no grits for Blackjack. He wants some chopped-up taters and onions. Dang. Now that I started talking about them, I want some too.” Canada touched his stomach and said, “You all hear that growling? We need some food, Sheriff. How about it?”
Reuben continued rubbing his eyes. He felt a yawn coming on and put his hand over his mouth to cover it.
“You too sleepy to follow your orders to feed us, Sheriff? That’s fine,” Canada said. “Just let us out and we’ll go get the food ourselves and come back. Ain’t that right, we’ll come back, Blackjack?”
McGinty grunted and folded his hands behind his head to lie back down on the cot. The sound of someone opening the office door made him sit up instead.
Edwin Folsom stood in the doorway and surveyed the office, taking note of both the prisoners in the cells and the weary-looking sheriff at the desk. The prisoners looked rested and strong. They were hard men, Folsom thought.
The sheriff looked weary and had a soft face. Folsom took off his hat and said, “Good morning.”
Reuben let his hands fall against the desk and he blinked several times as he tried to focus on Folsom. “Can I help you?”
“I am Officer Edwin Folsom, from Oklahoma, here on official business.”
Reuben’s eyebrows raised. “You? You’re here on official business?”
“Yes, sir,” Folsom said.
“As a police officer?” Reuben asked.
Both Cody Canada and Blackjack McGinty got up from their bunks and leaned against the cell bars to get a better look at Folsom. “Would you look at this, Blackjack?” Canada asked. “First, I thought it was some kind of Mexican, but it ain’t. You know what this is?”
“I believe it’s an Indian lawman,” McGinty said.
“Since when do they give Indians badges?” Canada asked. “Know what I think, Sheriff? I think he’s an impostor. I bet this Indian killed a real lawman and now he’s in here wearing his badge, trying to pull the wool over your eyes. Tell you what, Sheriff. Put that Indian in here with me for a little while and I’
ll get the truth out of him.”
Folsom’s eyes met Canada’s and the prisoner stood up on his toes and gripped the cell bars with both hands. “You like that idea, Indian? You do, don’t you. Come on over here, boy. Come on. Don’t be scared.”
“Better watch your hair with this one, Sheriff,” McGinty said. “He’s liable to take it.”
“That’s enough,” Reuben said. He took a deep breath as he regarded Folsom, making note of the gun and knife dangling from his belt, and the words inscribed on his badge. “What are you doing in Elan Valley?”
“That’s right,” Canada said. “What you doing so far from home, boy?”
“I am looking for a girl who was taken from our reservation,” Folsom said. “It is Indian business and my investigation has led me to this place.”
“Do you know who took her?” Reuben asked.
“I do,” Folsom said. “There was a man in a robe, riding a horse. He was with many others, all wearing robes. The man who took her calls himself a holy man and he wears a mask of flame. Tell me, have you had any unusual visitors lately?”
“No,” Reuben said. His eyes shifted toward the prisoners, but neither of them moved or gave any indication of what they knew. Blackjack McGinty tilted his head forward and spit on the floor. Reuben leaned back in his chair and said, “You said this was a man wearing a mask who was riding with many others?”
“Yes,” Folsom said. “Have they been here?”
“Is this man you’re looking for a white man, by any chance?”
Folsom took his time answering. The prisoners were both staring at him. “Yes, Sheriff. I believe he is. Have you seen him?”
“Well now,” Reuben said. “See, that’s going to be a little bit of a problem.”
“How so?” Folsom asked.
Cody Canada sneered at him between the bars. “Don’t you know the law, boy?”
“Indians ain’t allowed to interfere with white men for not no reason,” McGinty said. “Not even Indians wearing badges.”
Hell Snake Page 9
