Reuben moaned for them to go away.
“Be not afraid,” Deacon said to the Children. “Remember my scent and know I am thy father now, returned to set the world to rights.”
Reuben blinked and rubbed his eyes. The faces of the wildlings morphed into strange shapes. They melted and stretched into those of wild beasts with saliva dripping from their fangs. He cried out and tried to cover his face.
Deacon adjusted Reuben’s crown of antlers and said, “Fear not, good king. These are thy subjects, filled only with love.”
Deacon stepped back to admire Reuben’s crowned form in the moonlight. He laid his finger against the side of his face in contemplation and added, “But then again, on the night of the bacchanal, love can be a wild, untamed thing.”
One of the creatures let out a screeching laugh.
Reuben saw the clawed feet of one of the naked creatures standing before him. Something rushed up behind him, and before he could scream, one of the things had leapt onto his back and sank its teeth into the meat of his neck.
The pain stirred him enough to break free of his daze and try to fight, but his efforts were quickly overwhelmed. They piled on top of him and beat him and clawed at him and bit into his flesh and tore out chunks of it with their teeth as he screamed and screamed, and eventually, one of the creatures bit deep enough into his throat that he felt its teeth sever something that shot a torrent of blood from the wound, and after that, he felt nothing at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Connor Sinclair opened his eyes and gasped. He sat up and realized he was in his own bed, tucked beneath his warmest blankets. This was his bedroom at Edna’s Prayer. He collapsed back again and laughed aloud with relief. When had they gotten home? he wondered. He could not recall the rest of the journey. It did not matter. He was home and he was in bed and they were out of the damned desert and that’s all he needed.
Outside, the sun was bright. He could hear the animals and the hands working them. The horse pen was full with riders breaking in a new stallion. The cattle were being corralled. Some of the men sang as they worked and others whistled in tune with them. It had been a long time since the ranch had been this full of activity, he thought.
From downstairs, he could smell Miss Rena’s cooking. There was hot coffee and freshly buttered biscuits. There were eggs and thick cuts of bacon frying in her favorite pan. Sausage links sizzled in another pan, so fat and full they threatened to burst through their casings. When he got downstairs, Connor told himself, he was going to eat all of it.
He could hear his father talking to his mother in the sitting room below. It sounded like one of the steers was being brought to slaughter and his mother did not think it was time yet.
“He’s old enough,” William said.
“No he isn’t,” Jesse said.
“Even if he isn’t, it’s not like we have another choice.”
“There is always another choice.”
Connor shifted to get out of bed and felt something slide against the bottoms of his bare feet. He froze as it slithered up toward his ankles.
It glided across the top of his shins, coming up past his thighs and stomach. He could see its long, thick body moving beneath the blanket and felt its weight settling on his chest. He gaped in horror as the head of the large speckled snake emerged from beneath the blanket and came within inches of his face.
The snake pulled itself into a coil and peered down at him with its narrow, slitted eyes. It flicked its black tongue toward him, the forked end vibrating in the air.
Connor’s voice was nothing more than a pinched cry. “Ma.”
The snake hissed and opened its mouth to reveal its hooked fangs dripping venom like saliva from a hungry dog.
Connor sucked in enough air to cry out, “Pa!”
The snake’s head weaved back and forth as it looked for a place to strike. He could feel its weight shifting. The muscles in its body coiled like a compressed spring, getting ready to release.
“Pa, help!” Connor moaned.
The snake reared back to bite when suddenly the bedroom door burst open and William Sinclair raced in. He was tall and muscular, with a firm, stubbled chin and thick dark hair.
“What’s wrong, son?”
“Help me,” Connor whispered.
William sat on the side of the bed, seemingly oblivious to the snake that was now hissing and turning back and forth between the two of them. “Help you with what?” he asked.
“Please, I need you,” Connor begged.
William ran his hand through his son’s hair. “You have to be strong now, Connor. For all of us.”
Connor’s mouth trembled. “I’m afraid.”
The desert wind howled as Hank Odell picked up his grandson’s trembling hand and held it firm. He laid his stump over it and said, “Connor? Son, can you hear me?”
“I can’t do it,” Connor moaned.
“Everything’s going to be all right, now. Grandpa Hank promises. You just hang in there, son. Everything is going to be just fine.”
“His fever should have broken by now,” Mirta Escalante said. She laid her hand against the side of Connor’s face and felt the immense heat radiating from his skin. “It’s getting worse.”
“We have to get him home,” Odell said. “He needs a doctor, bad.”
Mirta peered at the darkness laid out before them. “It is dangerous to travel at night. Especially through the woods.”
“I know it is,” Odell said. “That’s why I’m taking the wagon with Connor the rest of the way. You stay here and get some rest, then bring my horse in the morning when it’s safe. Meet us back at the ranch.”
“You cannot drive the wagon with one hand,” Mirta said.
“I’ll manage. Help me get him loaded. We can’t afford to wait another night. This boy’s going to die and I won’t just stand by and watch it happen.”
“I will drive the wagon,” Mirta said. “We will get him home together.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Odell said. “You are staying here until morning. That’s an order.”
“I take orders from no man. Even old ones with one hand who I feel the slightest affection for.”
Odell nodded and said, “All right, then. You win. Let’s get him loaded and you can take the wagon.”
The two of them lifted Connor off the ground.
* * *
* * *
After dinner, Miss Rena and Jesse and their new hand, Perry Cooke, retired to the sitting room for coffee. Jesse took a sip and her head shot back at the strong taste of liquor mixed in with it. Rena smiled and said, “Good, ain’t it?”
“It sure is, Miss Rena,” Perry Cooke said. “Thanks again for letting me eat with y’all.”
“You just wait,” Rena said. “Once we get a bunch more hands around here, we won’t be able to seat everyone at the table, but that won’t stop me from cooking for them. No sir. Back when we had a full staff, I’d spend all day in the kitchen mixing up all sorts of surprises for the folk who worked here. We’d have everybody lined up with their plates from the kitchen all the way out the door and around the side of the house. Not one time did we ever lack enough to feed everyone and even offer seconds if they had room. Ain’t that right, Mrs. Jesse?”
“That’s true,” Jesse said. “We went through a lot of food.”
“I’m talking about chicken, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, corn, greens, corn bread, you name it. We ate like that every night.”
“Sounds amazing,” Cooke said.
“Well, you coming to work here is just the start of us getting back to that,” Rena said. “With a hand like you here, we’ll start fixing the place up and get some money coming in again. Then we’ll hire a few more hands. Now that we ain’t got to worry about that nasty old Mr. Granger breathing down our necks no more, it won’t be long befor
e we’re the biggest ranch in Elan Valley.” She looked at Jesse, who was absentmindedly stirring her coffee with a spoon. “Ain’t that right, Mrs. Jesse?”
Jesse looked up and said, “About what?”
“About us getting back on our feet and taking over this whole valley?”
Jesse managed a smile. “Of course.”
“See that?” Rena said to Perry Cooke. “You’re gonna like working here.”
“I already do,” Cooke said. “You folk are kind and decent and I’m glad to have found you.”
Miss Rena sipped her coffee and waved her hand for him to continue. “Go on.”
“I just mean, it’s not so easy for a working man anymore,” Cooke said. “Back when my pa was a ranch hand, he worked for the Tidwell family for forty years. That’s where I got my start. It was him who showed me how to be a hand. Then Mr. Tidwell got sick and had to pass the ranch down to his son. The only thing his son was interested in was making a fast dollar. Next thing I know, our pay got cut and hands started showing up less and less. Two-man jobs had to be done by one. That’s how my pa got killed.”
Rena touched her hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Perry.”
“Well, I reckon he was old and should have been paying more attention. Mr. Tidwell’s son was sorry too. He gave me ten dollars and told me to take a whole week off.”
Rena looked at Jesse, who sipped her coffee and shook her head.
“Anyway,” Cooke went on, “I stayed on. Then one day the ranch got sold to that fella Granger. A whole gang of gunmen and two of the biggest men you ever seen in your whole life came in and told us all to beat it. He didn’t even want the livestock. He just wanted to put our ranch out of business so there was less competition. Just like that, I was out of a job. I didn’t have no money. No place to live. No nothing.”
“Where on earth did you go?” Rena asked.
“Wound up in Honey Hook. I ain’t too proud of that. You all know about Honey Hook?”
“Only a little,” Jesse said. “We don’t go to that part of the valley if we can help it.”
“I’m sure that’s right,” Cooke said. “But that’s where I wound up. I think I might have stayed there to rot until I heard of you all looking for hands. Best day of my life was when I heard that Nelson Granger and all his people got killed. I’m sorry if that makes me sound bad, but it’s the truth. Were you all friends?”
“No,” Jesse said. “We weren’t friends.”
“Well, I’m glad,” Cooke said. “He wrecked everything out this way for a whole lot of good folk. I’m not sorry he’s dead.”
“We sure ain’t either,” Rena said. She picked up the coffeepot to refill his cup and Cooke covered it with his hand to decline.
“You make the best coffee I ever had, but I need to get some rest now,” Cooke said. “I want to get up at first light and get to work right away. If you all don’t mind, I’ll say good night.”
“Not at all, Mr. Cooke,” Jesse said. “You know something? I’m glad you’re here with us. I really mean that.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Cooke said. “I’m glad to be here with you all too.”
Rena stood up. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll go get your bed ready.”
“Actually, if you don’t mind,” Cooke said, “I’d prefer to sleep near the animals.”
“We’ve got plenty of room,” Rena said. “There’s an open room right next to mine.”
“I understand,” Cooke said. “But the animals will need to see me and smell me and get used to me if they’re going to trust me. If it’s all the same to both of you, I’ll sleep in the barn tonight so I can be near them.”
Rena looked at Jesse, who shrugged and said, “I appreciate your dedication, Mr. Cooke. We’ll call you in when breakfast is ready.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” Cooke said. “I hope I’ll have already been at it a few hours by then and have worked myself up a proper appetite.”
Jesse smiled and said, “I hope so too.”
They watched Perry Cooke get up and head out the door to go to the barn. Rena watched him through the windows and said, “I think I love that man.”
Jesse laughed. “You love every man you see.”
“No, I’m serious,” Rena said. “This is true love.”
Jesse sipped her coffee and winced. Most of the alcohol was at the bottom of the mug. She drank it anyway. It made her feel warm. “Well, why don’t you go on and dim the lights there, True Love.”
Rena reached for the lamps and turned the stem to get them to dim. “You going to bed, Mrs. Jesse?”
“Not just yet,” Jesse said. “You got any more of that special coffee?”
Rena smiled. “You like that coffee, do you? It’s my granny’s recipe. Guaranteed to make you sleep real good.” She stifled a yawn after she refilled Jesse’s mug and said, “I think I’m going to turn in. I want to get up bright and early so I can show our new hand what kind of breakfast he can expect from now on.”
Jesse sipped her coffee and closed one eye at the strength of the liquor in it. “I’ll be lucky if I make it up the stairs to bed.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Rena said.
Jesse nodded. She set the cup aside as Rena cleaned up. “You know, if I sold the ranch, it wouldn’t mean you’d have to go live in a place like Honey Hook. You know that, don’t you?”
Rena laughed. “You selling this ranch is the least of my worries. You’d never do that.”
“Why’s that?” Jesse asked.
“Because you and Mr. William built this place with your own two hands. Your family is buried here. Their spirits look over you and keep you strong, even when you can’t feel it. Selling this place would be like selling a piece of your own soul. And for as long as you’re here, I’ll be right here with you, making sure it’s all run right. Then, when we get old, and Connor is ready to take it over and run it his way, me and you will go off someplace fun like San Francisco.”
“Is that right?” Jesse asked, with a laugh.
“It sure is,” Rena said. “A couple of pretty old ladies with money to spare. We’ll give all them young men hell.”
Jesse laughed. “Maybe we will,” she said. “Good night, Rena.”
“Good night, Mrs. Jesse.”
Jesse sipped her coffee in the dimly lit room as she listened to Rena tidy the kitchen and head upstairs to bed. She heard Rena’s footsteps in the hallway, then the sound of her bedroom door opening and closing, and finally she was alone.
It was quiet and it was calm. The sitting room was dark enough that she could see the lights in the barn go dark. Mr. Cooke was going to sleep. He would be a good hand, Jesse thought. She was glad to have him, regardless of whether she would sell the ranch or not.
She slid off her boots and her bare feet felt released against the cool floor. She raised her legs onto the couch and set them beneath her. The coffee was almost finished. It could hardly be called coffee anymore. At least half of the remaining cup was pure liquor. She drank it anyway and felt warm and tired and at peace. Whatever happened with the ranch, it would be the right thing, she decided. Soon Connor and her father would be home. They’d hire more hands and more help. At the very least, there would be more people at Edna’s Prayer and it would not be so goddamn depressing and lonely anymore.
Jesse set the empty cup aside and stood up to go to bed when she noticed someone at the gate.
Behind him came others holding torches that flickered in the evening wind. All of them were wearing some kind of robe, she realized. And all of them seemed to be staring directly at her through the window.
“What the hell,” Jesse whispered. She went to the window and peered through it to get a better view.
The man in the center of the group, whose horse stood in the center of her gate, seemed to be wearing some kind of mask that covered
most of his face.
“Rena?” Jesse called.
Rena opened her bedroom door. “What?”
The man raised his hand and pointed at Jesse through the window. The riders behind him came funneling past him on either side. More and more of them, Jesse realized, filling up her front yard with horses and torchlight.
Jesse backed away from the window.
“Get the guns,” she yelled.
“What’s that?” Rena called down from the top of the steps.
Jesse bolted up the stairs as fast as she could, shouting, “Get the guns!”
CHAPTER NINE
Perry Cooke had just turned out the light and gotten settled in his bedroll when he heard the sound of approaching horses. Strange for so many to be out this time of night, he thought.
He waited for the horses to go past, but instead they were approaching the house. He could hear them snorting as they breathed. He could hear the fastenings on their saddles and bridles rattle when they shook their heads.
Cooke sat up and hurried to put his clothes back on. The most likely explanation was that one of the horses had thrown a shoe, or one of the riders was so drunk he’d fallen from his saddle.
If the riders needed help, it was his job to assist them and send them on their way. If Jesse Sinclair came out the front door instead of her husband, every single rider would know that there was no husband. God help us all if that pretty little Miss Rena comes out with her, Cooke thought. A group of men out late at night could be problematic under the best conditions, especially if they were drinking. Under the worst conditions, well, he preferred not to think about that.
Either way, it was his first night on the job as the new hand and he wanted to make a good impression. He threw open the barn doors and came out smiling. “Evening, all! What seems to be the trouble?”
Cooke stopped at the sight of the men seated on the horses in front of him, especially the one with the mask. Cooke’s mouth opened but no more words came out.
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