Grace flushed and said, “Them Hollowers were in his pocket. Whatever they got, they damn well deserved.”
Jessie screwed up his face and balled his fists. “The mayor was as surprised as us when Enapay got beefed. Didn’t you see? Or were you too busy blowing everyone away with them cannons of yours? Or maybe you just didn’t want to see...”
Grace’s eyes narrowed. “Watch your tongue, Jessie. The Gunman was there. You saw him as clear as I did. Hiding out in the Hollow. The Hollowers brought this on themselves. Including your little bit and her pa.”
Rage and grief waged war inside Jessie, tempered by the little voice of doubt. Eventually, hurt and exhaustion fanned the flames of Jessie’s ire, and he pulled his lips back in a grimace. He thrust a finger against Grace’s chest and snarled, “He might have pulled the trigger on Enapay, but it was you who got Bess killed, Grace! It was you!”
Grace stepped forward and raised her hands. Jessie flinched, sure she was about to strike him. Instead she pulled him close. Jessie planted his hands against Grace’s shoulders in an effort to push her away, but her wiry strength and determined resolve was too much for the exhausted boy. He folded stiffly, into her arms, crying and thumping her shoulders with his fists. Grace held him until his cries turned into great, choking sobs, her arms firm around his trembling body. She ran her fingers through his matted hair and gently rocked him from side to side. “Shh, Jessie. Shh.”
Jessie remained stiff and unyielding in her arms for a long time as the smoke and the smell of the dead town wafted over them. The scent of death came strongest from Grace herself.
Overhead the first of the buzzards began to caw.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jessie refused to go to the funeral.
Tokota had asked him straight out if he would sit with them in the ceremonial circle after they’d laid Enapay’s body in the burial scaffolding. Jessie had looked the native man in the eye for a long time, then turned and walked away. After the initial horror of war started to fade, Jessie had locked away his anger toward Grace. As a consequence, Tokota bore the brunt of the lad’s outward ire. When Tokota offered to help bury Bess, Jessie had snarled, “Don’t you lay a single hand on her,” and that had been the end of that. Grace and Jessie had buried the apothecary’s daughter on a small hill that overlooked Whitestand Hollow. The wind blew easterly and took away the fetid stench of smoke and death. Neither Grace nor Jessie spoke. Jessie knew no words that would take away the pain.
As the Sioux cleared debris and bodies from the once-thriving little town, Tokota focused on their own dead. As leader of the Sioux people, Enapay’s funeral needed to be conducted with certain rites and rituals. With the bones of frontier civilization still visible—blackened husks of burnt buildings and bloody dirt roads—Tokota refused to guide Enapay’s soul into its next life from within the bone-yard of Whitestand Hollow. He spoke instead of having a ceremony in Wicate-blaye—the no man’s land of Buzzard’s Ford—when the moon was full, so both Sioux and Ba’cho could attend.
Jessie wanted none of it. Even Grace’s cajoling and threats of bodily harm hadn’t convinced him to attend. Instead, he stayed behind in the tipis in the deserted Sioux camp. He lay on a pile of furs, wrote in his journal, and wallowed in his misery. Every time his pencil scratched the name Bess, he felt a stab of pain and pang of guilt. She shouldn’t have died. So many of them shouldn’t have died.
Someone always dies, Jessie.
He threw the book across the tent. It smacked into the tough hide and slid down. He pressed his hands against his face and breathed deeply. After a few seconds, he glanced up, startled by a noise. He sat up on the furs, listened, and flinched as he heard it again. A soft nicker.
“Lord’s sake! If that’s you, Grace, come back to drag me to that funeral I’m gonna be mighty annoyed,” Jessie grumbled.
He clambered to his feet and frowned as a breeze tickled his bare buttocks. He hadn’t bothered buttoning the back-flap of his long johns. He fiddled with the button as he trotted to the tent flap.
“Grace, if that’s you, I said I ain’t going to no funeral!”
Jessie flung back the tent flap and peered into the darkness. He did a double take and his mouth fell open. Before the tent stood an ethereal white horse adorned with a glittering silver saddle. The horse turned and gazed at him and Jessie felt the world lurch beneath his feet. His mind screamed at him to get back inside, to get his Colt, to run—anything—but his body was like molasses in winter. He turned and stared straight into the cold face of the Darksome Gunman.
“Well howdy there, son. What are you doing out here all on your lonesome?”
Jessie jerked, but the Gunman’s hand shot out and wrapped around his throat. Terror knifed through Jessie’s stomach. The Darksome Gunman smiled and leaned closer.
“Why don’t we go find that little lady of yours?”
The beat of drums thrummed through Jessie’s bones as he approached the funeral ceremony. Sioux warriors, led by their medicine man, sang and danced around a roaring fire. Behind the dancers, a wider circle of native folk and Ba’cho stood solemn and silent. Grace, cradled in Kaga’s arms, watched the ceremony as flickering firelight played across her features. While they appeared relaxed and comfortable, Tokota beside them stood stiff and taut like a too-tight guitar string.
Jessie crept through the shadows beyond the bonfire and came up beside the wooden burial scaffold that held Enapay’s body. As firelight revealed him, his stomach shriveled at the thought he would soon bring chaos to the beautiful ceremony. Across the bonfire, Tokota’s dark gaze fell on Jessie, and he nudged Grace and pointed. Jessie felt her hawk-like gaze pierce him as she tensed and brushed Kaga’s arms away.
A pistol jabbed into Jessie’s back and he took a stumbling step forward. The presence behind him radiated menace, and terror clutched his bowels as he took another step. His eyes were fixed on Grace, and he knew the moment the Darksome Gunman emerged into the light behind him; Grace’s face blanched and her hands balled into fists.
Jessie took another step forward, and the dancers frowned and halted as he interrupted their path. The chanting ceased on a wailing high note that hung in the air. Silence pervaded for a handful of seconds, then the ceremony exploded into action. The native folk shouted and scrambled for weapons. Kaga hissed and started forward. On Grace’s other side, Tokota let loose an inarticulate growl and also started forward. Grace spun and faced them and grabbed an arm in each hand.
“No!” she shouted. “No! Stop! He’s got Jessie!”
Kaga pressed against Grace’s restraining hand. Tokota’s raven-black eyes narrowed and he gritted his teeth.
Grace shoved them both backward. “He’s got Jessie! He’ll kill him!”
Tokota bared his teeth and shouted in his native tongue. The warriors of the Sioux tribe glanced at Tokota, then turned to the Gunman, who slowly strolled into the middle of the ceremony with Jessie on the end of his revolver. The Sioux moved to circle the duo, but no one made a move against the fiend. The Ba’cho joined their ranks despite not having weapons.
Tokota glanced at Grace. “They will hold, but not for long.”
Grace nodded and started to turn away. Tokota’s hand shot out and he grabbed her arm. “Neither will I. I want that sica dead.”
Grace’s lips curled and she shook him off. She turned to the Darksome Gunman.
Jessie stood in the middle of the gathered native folk with one arm bent behind his back. He winced in pain—not because the Gunman twisted his arm, but because the man’s touch was ice cold. Jessie’s gaze fell on Grace, who slowly walked toward them, the imposing Kaga a step behind. Her hair spilled loose around her shoulders, and her head was held high. Firelight glittered in her eyes, and she walked at a slow and measured pace. Jessie didn’t know about the Darksome Gunman, but he was damn impressed by the sight of her. Despite being gripped by the most terrifying man he’d ever known, a smile crossed Jessie’s lips as he watched Grace come to do battle fo
r him. Her thumbs were casually hooked into her gun belt, but Jessie knew she could have those cannons out in a heartbeat if she chose.
“Think I have something of yours here, girl.”
Grace didn’t even blink. She continued walking until she was through the circle of native warriors. Jessie swallowed as her dark gaze drifted across his face. She gave him a quick wink, then turned back to the Gunman. Jessie’s heart flipped over at that wink, and warmth suffused his body.
“Let the boy go.”
Jessie could feel the smile on the face of the Gunman behind him. “Aw, c’mon now. Jessie and I have been having a crack time together. Just like your dogs here seem to be having a good time.”
The expressions on the native folk darkened, and muttered curses were slung about. Kaga pressed close against Grace’s back. “Why don’t you stop hiding behind a pup and let us show you a good time, heeyouhuu.”
“Didn’t I shoot you last time we met, dog? Want another bullet, is that it?”
The Darksome Gunman’s voice was genial and smooth as though he were courting a comely lass, not threatening to blow someone away. Kaga’s expression darkened and he surged forward. Grace held him back with a snarl. Jessie was jiggled by the Gunman’s silent laughter, and he felt like he was a low card in a game of poker being used to draw out an ace. Jessie frowned at the metaphor that sprang to mind. He recalled Cottonmouth’s words, he plays an ace-high game, son... Be the better player...
The Gunman was taunting them. He wanted them to get angry.
Grace flicked the leather tongue off her right holster and drew Justice. She held the cannon beside her thigh. “Gonna tell you once more, you sonuvabitch. Let Jessie go.”
“Or what? You gonna shoot me?”
Grace’s lip curled. “Let him go and find out.”
For a split second the grip on Jessie’s arm tightened, then before he could prepare, he was shoved hard. He went down into the dirt. He scrabbled over onto his butt and looked up at the Darksome Gunman. The man didn’t even grace him with a glance; his gaze was fixed on Grace. A smile played on his lips. An ace-high smile. Jessie frowned and shifted backward, hissing as gravel scored his butt cheek. He glanced over his shoulder. Grace had her pearl-handled revolver aimed at the Gunman’s heart.
“Grace! Wait!” Jessie cried. He flicked his gaze back to the Darksome Gunman and noticed the man’s chilly stare was on him. The smile was gone from his lips.
Jessie turned back to Grace. “Grace, he wants you to shoot! Don’t play his game!”
Grace’s gaze flicked from the Gunman to Jessie.
The Darksome Gunman’s face twisted in anger. “Little cuss.”
Jessie’s lips widened into a grin. “He wants a shootout. He wants more blood spilled.”
Grace frowned at Jessie. “I’m inclined to give him what he wants, Jessie.”
“No! How many more people have to die?” Jessie said, twisting around to look at her.
The Darksome Gunman drew his silver revolver and sighed. “Gotta give you a reason to shoot, do I?” He casually waved his gun at the circled natives and pulled the trigger. The gun boomed and one of the Sioux dropped to the dirt.
“No!” Tokota and Kaga cried. Grace grunted and fired Justice at the same time as half a dozen Sioux flung spears and loosed arrows. Screams rang and folk all over the circle staggered and fell, some struck by spears, other punctured with arrows. One Ba’cho warrior, who stood directly behind the Gunman, fell with a bullet in his chest.
Thick silence followed the pitched screaming as those assembled tried to figure out what happened.
The Darksome Gunman, who hadn’t moved a muscle, wore a smug grin across his lips. “I told you back in Sandycrag Creek, you ain’t ready to fight me, girl. Not yet.”
“What in the blue fuck are you?” Grace whispered in horror.
The Darksome Gunman swaggered toward her. He completely ignored Jessie, who scrabbled back from the Gunman’s jingling boots. Kaga and Tokota stepped up beside Grace and snarled at the Gunman. His grin widened and he flicked his wrists. Tokota and Kaga went flying through the air in opposite directions. Tokota crashed heavily into a group of Sioux and Kaga crumpled on the ground. Grace glanced at them, then turned to the Gunman. He pressed against her and raised a hand to her face. He traced a long strand of blond hair that hung next to her cheek. His stony gaze was locked on hers and he smiled.
“Mm, it’s unseemly to have favorites I know, but you’ve always been mine. Oh, the others have their uses and I can’t deny my cherie is an ace in the hole, but you... You’re just special, Grace. Fearless.”
Grace cuffed his arm away then cracked her fist across his jaw. The Darksome Gunman’s head snapped back. Jessie gasped as the Gunman blinked, smiled, and turned to look at Grace again.
“See? Fearless,” he said. He lunged at Grace and grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of her neck. Grace gasped and clawed his hand. The Gunman pulled her in close. Jessie leaped up and threw himself at the Darksome Gunman. The Gunman effortlessly shoved him away. Grace twisted and grunted, but the Gunman’s grip was too tight, too strong.
“Make no mistake, though. I made you. I can also break you.” He twisted his hand tighter in her hair until she cried out, then he shoved her to the ground.
The Darksome Gunman spun on his heel and clicked his fingers. His white steed came trotting through the darkness beside the huddling Sioux and Ba’cho. He swung into the saddle and turned as Jessie, Kaga, and Tokota came to Grace’s side. Her face was flushed and ugly. The Darksome Gunman smiled. “I’ll see you in Temerity, girl. Louisiana way. Don’t be late. It’s gonna be quite a show.”
He yanked the reins and his horse broke into a furious gallop. The Sioux screamed war cries and flung spears and shot arrows after him.
The darkness beyond the ceremonial fires swallowed him up, and not a single weapon hit its mark.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jessie studied the flames as Grace and Kaga quietly spoke. They were seated on the ground in Grace’s tent. Grace scowled at the flames, and when Kaga reached over and touched her arm she didn’t respond. Jessie knew he shouldn’t feel a pang of satisfaction at seeing Kaga’s affection brushed off, but he did. It was Kaga’s last night in his human form before surrendering to the month-long cycle of his wolf form. Despite this, he and Grace had yet to retreat to the soft furs behind the buffalo hide. After the meeting with the Darksome Gunman, Grace seemed preoccupied to the point of obsession. Lovemaking was apparently the last thing on her mind.
“Question is, do we continue to dance to his tune and make tracks for this burg down the bayou? This...Temerity?” Grace had asked the question a dozen times before. She, Kaga, and Jessie had discussed it this way and that, and none of them had come up with an answer that sat well. Kaga sighed and looked into the flames. They flickered in his black eyes and gave away none of his thoughts. Jessie turned to Grace who puffed her cheroot and glared into the campfire coals.
A scratching sound came from the tent flap. “Hau?”
Grace looked up. “C’mon in.”
Tokota pushed back the tent flap and entered. He strode to the fire and eyed the three impassively. When Grace gestured to the ground, he shook his head. “The trackers have returned. A night and a day they have been searching and have found no trace of him.”
Grace snorted. She’d said it was futile to hunt him down, but Tokota had been adamant. The Darksome Gunman had committed a sacrilegious act by interrupting Enapay’s funeral. Tokota made it clear that he wanted the fiend’s head in recompense.
“Well then, seems we got no choice but to go to this one-horse town down Lou’siana way,” Grace said, eyeing Tokota as she spoke.
His craggy face wrinkled as he frowned. “I have been asked to be Oyate Wakaskeyuze. To take Enapay’s place and lead our people in the resurrection of Wakte-ku.”
Grace didn’t answer. She watched Tokota as he sucked his lower lip in thought. Finally, he raised his dark eyes and met h
ers. “I cannot stay. I will come with you to Temerity and hunt the Darksome Gunman.”
Grace nodded. Kaga looked down at the fire, his expression unfathomable.
“It’s because of Enapay, ain’t it? Why you gotta get out of here,” Jessie said softly.
Tokota’s dark eyes swept over Jessie and his jaw clenched. “My reasons are my own.”
Jessie nodded and lowered his gaze. Grace climbed to her feet and wandered across the tent to Tokota. She brushed his arm and drew him to the tent flap. Jessie watched as they moved out of earshot and spoke in low voices. He frowned and turned to Kaga. “What do you think? He on the level?”
Kaga frowned. “If you are asking whether he is sincere in his desire to hunt the Darksome Gunman, yes. If you are asking whether we can trust him, I don’t know. I will place my faith in Grace.”
Jessie bit his lip as Kaga gazed at Grace with adoring eyes. “You trust her that much?”
Kaga turned to Jessie and his eyebrows rose. “Of course. You do not?” There was incredulity in his tone and Jessie slid his gaze back to the fire.
“It’s just... She led that war party, Kaga. Against white folk. Innocent folk.”
Kaga’s lips thinned. “Some were innocent, Jessie. Some were not.”
Jessie scowled. “You believe they was in cahoots with the Darksome Gunman?”
Kaga shrugged. “I believe the folk of Whitestand Hollow did not need to be in ‘cahoots’ with one such as the Darksome Gunman to be guilty of wrong-doing.”
Jessie’s brows dropped into a dramatic vee. “So that means folk like Bess and her pa gotta die? Just because the big bugs decided to make a town where a bunch of old Injuns used to live?”
“Not used to live. The Sioux were still living there when they were displaced by the Whitestand Hollow folk. They started this war. Tokota and Grace merely ended it.”
Guns of Perdition Page 12
