The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3)

by Michael Richan

  Winn laughed more. “Yes, I’ll go with you, Deem,” Winn said, trying to catch his breath. “Now I have to meet this woman. See if she’s a c-word.” He broke into laughter again.

  “You may laugh at my expense all you want,” Carma said, picking up her wine glass and taking a sip. “But when she’s being a c-word with you, you’ll see what I mean.”

  Winn began to laugh so hard he put his fork down and turned away from the others, holding his hand over his mouth as though he might spit out his food.

  Carma turned back to Deem, who shrugged her shoulders.

  “Men,” Carma said. “So easily amused.”

  “You don’t want to come with us to New Harmony, I take it?” Deem asked, Winn still trying to control his laughter on the other side of the table.

  “I would, but I’m so busy with Lyman right now,” Carma said. “His plans are on a tight timetable, and I have assignments.”

  “Can you tell us what it is you’re working on with him?” Deem asked.

  “Best not, dear,” Carma said. “That way, if you’re ever called into court, you won’t have to perjure yourself.”

  Not the answer I was expecting, Deem thought.

  “Have you heard from Awan recently?” Winn asked, still laughing a little.

  “He called and left me a message yesterday,” Carma replied. “He said he’s enjoying his trip. Mentioned something about the conference, but I didn’t pay attention to most of the details. This work with Lyman has me so distracted.”

  Deem finished her dinner and joined Winn in clearing the table for Carma, who protested that they didn’t need to help.

  “Really, really, I’ve got this,” Carma said, slapping at Winn’s hand as he attempted to pick up her plate. “You two get off to New Harmony before it gets too late. Batchelder probably retires before the sun sets.”

  “You’re sure?” Winn asked.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Carma replied. “Go.”

  Deem and Winn walked out to the front, past the hallway of pictures that showed scenes from the house’s history.

  “Who’s driving?” Deem asked as they opened the door and stepped down to the gravel driveway.

  “I’ll drive,” Winn said. “You’ve already hauled out to Fredonia and back today.”

  “You’ve still got that letter?” Deem asked.

  Winn slapped his ass, holding his hand over his back pocket. “Right here!” He gave Deem a wide smile.

  Deem rolled her eyes and got into his Jeep.

  Chapter Three

  “You’re an immoral degenerate, aren’t you son?” the old woman asked Winn as she sat across from him in her living room. Deem watched Winn’s face as he reacted with surprise.

  “Now, you,” the woman said, turning to Deem, “you’re one of the Lord’s pure vessels, aren’t you my dear? But you’re lost, pathetically drifting. Hold to the iron rod, child. ’Tis strong and bright and true.”

  Deem was at a loss for words, so she just stared back at the woman.

  “We’ve come to see if you…” Winn started, but the woman held up an old, gnarled hand for Winn to stop.

  “My house is not to be further soiled with the words of a debauched sodomite!” she said, silencing him.

  Winn turned to Deem, looking pissed. I guess we’re beginning to understand what Carma meant by c-word, Deem thought.

  “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, my dear?” the woman asked Deem. “My soul would do well to hear the musical strains of a virginal voice.”

  Deem began to turn red, a mixture of embarrassment and anger. She held up the envelope. “You sent this to a woman in Fredonia. She’s unconscious and can’t read it. Neither can her mother, so she asked us for help. We can’t read it either, not all of it. We were hoping you’d tell us what it says.”

  “Fredonia?” the woman replied. “Oh, yes, her. Poor soul. Very sick.”

  “Is this a diagnosis?” Deem asked. “What did you recommend to her? Tell us, and we’ll relay the information.”

  “Hand it to me, would you dear?” the woman asked.

  Deem rose from her seat and passed the envelope to the woman, who had introduced herself to them as Sister Batchelder.

  As she read the letter, the old woman mumbled. “Oh, yes… yes… I should have written that differently, I suppose.”

  “You say Lizzy is bad off?” Deem asked.

  “Very bad. Her soul is diseased. There’s nothing I can do on my own to cure her,” Batchelder replied.

  “Surely you wrote more than that,” Deem said. “Even I could make out some of the words. You were suggesting something.”

  “I wrote of two options,” the woman replied. “One, she could kill herself before the disease cripples her soul any further. That would arrest it.”

  “Doesn’t seem like a good option,” Winn said.

  “Be silent, fiend of perversion!” Batchelder spat at Winn, who shrunk back in his chair from the angry woman.

  “What was the second option?” Deem asked Batchelder, wanting to speed things up.

  “The disease she has is very rare,” the woman replied. “I’ve seen it only once before. It was cured by callum. So that’s why I offered the first option, killing herself. A lot easier.”

  “Callum?” Deem asked. “What is that?”

  “A substance so rare, it’s only been found in one place around here, as far as I know,” Batchelder replied. “And getting to it is nearly impossible.”

  “Where?” Deem asked.

  “Plague Canyon,” the woman answered. “Ever heard of it?”

  Deem wracked her memory. She came up blank.

  “No, I expect you wouldn’t,” Batchelder said. “No one’s been in that canyon in a hundred years, and no one will be going in anytime soon. So best you go back to Fredonia and tell her about killing herself.”

  “I can’t do that,” Deem said. “I can’t tell someone to commit suicide.”

  “It’ll be so much better for her if she does,” Batchelder replied. “If the disease continues, she’ll have no hope in the afterlife.”

  Deem looked up at Winn to see what he thought.

  “Don’t turn to the sodomite for answers,” Batchelder said quietly to Deem. “His mind is twisted and infected by perversion.”

  I’ve got to get out of here, Deem thought. Carma was right, this woman is a c-word.

  “Where is Plague Canyon?” Deem asked.

  “Over the Arizona border,” Batchelder said. “East of Joe Blake Hill. You know that area?”

  “A little,” Deem said. “I live in Mesquite.”

  “Ah, then maybe you know my hero, Cliven.”

  “Cliven?” Deem asked. “Cliven Bundy? The rancher?”

  “Plague Canyon and most of its surroundings are on land owned by Willie Hinton,” Batchelder said. “It’s been in his family for over a hundred years, since way back when Hurricane was settled. He’s been ranching on nearby federal land nearly as long, and he’s got himself a little standoff with the federal government right now, same as Cliven. His property is patrolled by freedom fighters on horseback, all armed and ready to defend the ranch from trespassers and federal interlopers. So getting to the canyon is extremely difficult; if the rough terrain doesn’t stop you, the guns will. I haven’t heard of anyone trying in years.”

  Same last name as me, Deem thought. I wonder if I’m related to him.

  “Do you know where in the canyon we could find the callum?” Deem asked.

  “The old story is that there’s ancient Indian ruins in that canyon. Anasazi. Willie doesn’t ever let anyone in, so it’s never been formally discovered by white folk. Do you remember up in Range Creek a while back? Wilcox sold his family land to the state, and they discovered all those ruins on it, preserved from looters because Wilcox never let anyone in?”

  “I recall hearing about that,” Deem said. “The state bought it so they could protect it.”

  “This land with Willie Hinton is the same thing,
” Batchelder said. “No one has the faintest clue that there are ruins in that canyon, because Hinton doesn’t let anyone near the place. It’s been untouched since 1905.”

  “Surely someone has seen them,” Deem said. “That’s wide open land. People hike it.”

  “Not Hinton’s land,” Batchelder replied. “He shoots trespassers. Seems like someone gets shot there every few years, and it’s enough to scare others away. The canyon itself is hard to get to. There’s only one way in, and it faces the federal land that they’re patrolling. I’ve only heard of one other person making it in there to come back out alive. He said the place was so haunted, he’d never return.”

  “He went in to get callum?” Deem asked.

  “Yes, he brought some out to save his father from a slender infection,” Batchelder said. “It worked.”

  “What is callum, exactly?” Deem asked.

  “I have no idea,” the woman replied. “Never seen the stuff myself. I only know it comes from there, and nowhere else.”

  “If we were to get some callum,” Deem said, “it would cure Lizzy? In Fredonia?”

  “Oh, I would expect so,” Batchelder replied. “She’d only need to inhale a little of it. It’s miraculous, really. But so hard to get.”

  Deem stood, anxious to leave. “Thank you for your time,” Deem said. She walked toward the door.

  “It was nice to meet you, my dear,” Batchelder said. “Return anytime, but please don’t darken my door with degenerate companions. I try to keep a pure house, worthy of a visit from the Lord.”

  “He’s my friend,” Deem said as she stepped out the door, Winn following her. “I don’t think the Lord would turn him away. You’ve been pretty rude to him.”

  “Think how unthoughtful you’ve been, bringing such filth into my home,” Batchelder said. “I overlooked it only to help your ill friend, and because of your virginal sweetness, my dear. Perhaps your dalliance in apostasy has eroded your sense of proper judgment. Why don’t you go talk to your bishop? Repent, and get yourself back on the proper path.”

  Deem turned from the woman. They walked back to Winn’s Jeep, parked in a dirt driveway thirty feet from the house.

  “Carma was right,” Winn said, unlocking the car.

  “No, she wasn’t,” Deem said, opening the car door and hopping inside. “She’s no c-word. She’s a total cunt.” She slammed the door.

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  “How deliciously mysterious!” Carma said. “The Hintons settled Hurricane. You’re a Hinton, aren’t you Deem?”

  They were resting in the comfortable chairs of Carma’s sitting room, with its large glass windows that looked out over the back yard and the small hill that rose behind the house. The view always calmed Deem.

  “That’s me,” she replied. “A Hinton since I was born.”

  “Batchelder sure was a piece of work,” Winn said.

  “Doubt me at your peril!” Carma replied. “You laughed at me, but I was right, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes,” Winn answered. “I think Deem called her a ‘total c-word’.” Winn gave Deem a wink.

  “She kept saying I was virginal,” Deem said. “How does she know?”

  “Batchelder thinks she knows everything,” Carma replied. “One of her irritating qualities, among many.”

  “Well, since she thought I was a virgin, she answered all my questions,” Deem said.

  “Yes, and what intriguing answers you got!” Carma said. “This mysterious canyon sounds enthralling but a little terrifying. I assume the two of you will sneak in?”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Winn replied.

  “We don’t even know what callum is, or what it looks like,” Deem said. “We could sneak in, but how would we know what to collect?”

  “Two separate issues,” Winn replied. “We’ll have to figure out how to get into the place regardless. I say we go there tomorrow morning and determine the lay of the land. We can work on the callum later.”

  “Alright but… how dare you speak!” Deem said laughing, raising her hand to mock Batchelder. “Be silent, you filthy sodomite!” Winn broke up with her.

  “Oh, she didn’t!” Carma said, raising a hand to cover her mouth , a horrified look on her face. “Tell me she didn’t!”

  “She called him every name in the book,” Deem said, reaching for a throw and wrapping it around herself. “Wouldn’t let him talk at all. Told me not to bring him back.”

  “Oh, I am so dreadfully embarrassed!” Carma said.

  “It’s not your fault, Carma,” Winn said. “You warned us about her.”

  “I’ve never liked her, you know,” Carma replied. “No, not on my best day! So self-righteous, like so many of them around here. If there’s one thing I cannot abide, it’s self-righteousness!” She stood. “I have a delicious pineapple upside-down cake, would either of you like a piece?”

  “I would love some,” Deem said. “Can I help?”

  “No, you stay right there, you look like a bug in a rug,” Carma answered. “Winn?”

  “I’ll pass, thank you,” Winn said. Carma stepped out of the room.

  “Sneak in?” Deem asked.

  “Yeah, why not?” Winn replied.

  “It just seems like we’re searching in the dark, not knowing what we’re looking for.”

  “We gotta go with what we know,” Winn replied. “And the worst that can happen is we’ll see some ruins no one else has seen. That’ll be fun regardless.”

  “If we don’t get shot,” Deem said.

  “I’ll bring my gun.”

  “No, you won’t. I’m not going to get in the middle of a shoot-’em-up between you and some crazy government fundamentalist.”

  “I’m bringing it, Deem. For rattlesnakes, if nothing else.”

  Deem sighed. There was no changing Winn’s mind about guns. Even if she got him to cave in and promise not to bring it, she knew he’d just hide it from her and bring it anyway.

  “Tell me if you think this is moist enough,” Carma said as she returned to the room and handed Deem a plate with a fork. “It’s a splendid recipe from my cousin Jenny, who used to live in Illinois. The poor dear died from being run through by a bull’s horn. I think it is the sweetest version of pineapple upside-down cake I’ve ever tasted, but you be the judge.”

  Deem tried a forkful and nodded. “It’s very sweet.”

  “Do you like it?” Carma asked. “Tell me you like it or I shall whisk it away.”

  “Of course she likes it,” Winn replied. “She loves sweet things.”

  “Let her answer for herself, Winn,” Carma said.

  “I like it,” Deem said. “It’s really good.”

  “There, you see?” Carma said. “Another convert to Jenny’s cake. I won’t tell you the secret ingredient because you’d spit it out.”

  Deem stopped chewing. Winn snickered. Carma noticed.

  “It’s nothing bad,” Carma said. “Don’t worry.”

  “I need to be getting back to Moapa,” Winn said, “if we’re going to find Plague Canyon tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh, nonsense, you’ll stay here,” Carma said. “It’s daft to drive all the way back to Nevada just to turn around and come back here.”

  “Alright, if you insist,” Winn said.

  “I do insist,” Carma replied. “You can always stay here, young man. I love having manly energy in the house. Keeps the place on edge.”

  Chapter Four

  “Carma and Lyman are up to something,” Deem said as she rode with Winn the next morning. The sun hadn’t crested in the east, but there was enough light to drive without the lights on. They were headed down a county road southwest from Hurricane, into areas where few people ever went.

  “Have you figured out what, yet?” Winn asked.

  “I don’t know, she hasn’t given me any details,” Deem replied. “Can’t be a total secret because she knows I know something is going on. That’s why she couldn’t go out to Fredonia herself yesterday. She
said she was busy with Lyman.”

  “When I got to her place yesterday to get the address for you, she was running around like a chicken with her head cut off, constantly going up and down the stairs to the basement.”

  “Yeah, something’s up. It worries me a little. Remember her talking about fuses a while back?”

  “Yeah. And you Mormons like to blow things up, so it’s disconcerting.”

  “Blow things up?” Deem asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Mark Hoffman?” Winn replied. “The pipe bombs in Salt Lake? The salamander thing?”

  Deem scrunched up her face. “Huh?”

  “You don’t know your own history,” Winn said. “Typical.”

  “There’s a lot of anti-Mormon crap out there,” Deem replied. “Don’t believe everything you read.”

  “The fact that Mark Hoffman killed two people with bombs and is sitting at Point of the Mountain right now, in jail for life, isn’t made up,” Winn said. “It’s a fact. He’s actually there, for real.”

  “Well, I don’t see what that has to do with this,” Deem replied.

  “I’m just saying Mormons can get pretty violent,” Winn said. “You know all the weird shit the pligs do.”

  “Yeah,” Deem replied. “I’ll give you that.”

  “And Carma and Lyman are from a different era, when things were a lot less civilized.”

  “Things aren’t that civilized now,” Deem said, thinking of seeing Claude, murdered in his home.

  “Carma and Lyman could well be making a bomb,” Winn said. “Why else would you need fuse?”

  “Should I pry?” Deem asked. “Poke around? Try to find out?”

  Winn pondered her question. “I wish Awan were here. He’d know if we should.”

  “Can you call him?” Deem asked.

  “I’ll try.”

  They drove for miles, the small county road taking them deeper and deeper into the red rock and sand, and when the sun finally rose, they had descended into a small valley that had a long narrow expanse of green running down the left side, and a steep cliff to the right.

  “That’s got to be it,” Deem said, staring down at the topographic map in her lap, and back up at the cliffs on the right. “That’s the back side of Plague Canyon. The entrance is around those cliffs about a mile.”