“What made him stop?” Bob asked, dismounting and frowning down at the boy. “Why didn’t he kill you?”
“He saw my badge,” Madison said, panting and swallowing hard. “He stopped when he saw my badge.”
“Da Governor told him to go after da fugitives,” Jeffery said. “He mus’ not be allowed to hurt no law men.”
They were all silent for a long time, trying to sort their thoughts and calm down.
“I suppose we should head back to town,” Bob finally said. “There’s nothing we can do out here right now. Maybe tomorrow we’ll come back and search for the money. . .”
Madison and Jeffery nodded. They didn’t want to stay there anymore than Bob did, and they too knew that there was nothing they could do – the bad guys were dead and justice had been served in a weird way. The knowledge didn’t make them feel better about the situation, but at least they knew the men who’d killed innocent people for money weren’t going to do it again.
They rode back to town in silence with Madison riding double with Bob – his horse had panicked and bolted during Houndtooth’s attack.
Chapter 17
The next morning, when the sun was shining its warming bright rays down on the Earth, Bob and Jeffery headed back out to the canyon to see what they could find. They figured Jeffery was safe, since he’d traveled all the way from the Governor’s office with the zombie bounty hunter, and Bob was safe since he was sporting a badge.
“What do you think we’ll find?” Bob asked when they were halfway there.
“Death,” Jeffery said, and Bob nodded in agreement.
They spotted vultures circling in the sky slightly north of where they knew they’d been in the canyon the previous night; Bob grew up playing in the canyons and there wasn’t much he didn’t know about them.
“What do you suppose that is?” Bob asked, pointing at the birds. “An animal, maybe?”
Jeffery shrugged, but didn’t say anything; he was back to his calm, quiet self.
“Let’s go check it out,” Bob said, redirecting his horse toward where the birds were circling further up the canyon.
Shrugging again, Jeffery followed the Sheriff.
When they reached the precipice and looked down into the ravine, they saw what the birds were so interested in.
Below lay the body of a man with his skull cracked open and blood running into his vacantly staring eyes and down his nose.
Jeffery crossed himself.
“Houndtooth?” Bob asked, raising an eyebrow in Jeffery’s direction.
Jeffery nodded and stared down at the bloody corpse.
“Now the big question is: should we take the body to town for burial? Or leave it here for the elements to claim?”
“I don’t know. . .” Jeffery said. “I does know dat I don’t want to touch him.”
Bob smirked. “Me neither, but we’ve got to do the right thing. If we don’t, we’re as bad as they are.”
“Couldn’t we pile rocks on top of him where he be?” Jeffery asked, cringing at the thought of transporting the dead man back to town.
“That’s a good idea,” Bob said. “Do you want to do it now? Or check out the cave and come back.”
“Better to does it now,” Jeffery said, squinting up at the sun, “before it gets too hot.”
Bob nodded, rode down into the canyon, and dismounted; Jeffery followed and did the same.
“At least he was nice enough to be killed where there are plenty of rock,” Bob joked, trying to break the morbid mood.
Jeffery, as usually, only nodded in agreement.
The piling on of rocks took the men two hours, and they were dripping sweat by the time they were done.
“That’s done,” Bob said, retrieving his canteen from his saddle bag, taking a big swing and handing it to Jeffery.
The big man drank a couple of huge gulps and handed it back.
“Let’s get this business over with,” Bob said, mounting his horse. “I want to get back to town. . .hopefully with the money.”
Jeffery mounted too and they were off.
Surprisingly, they found that they weren’t far from the cave – less than two miles. They figured maybe the man they’d buried in rocks had run when Houndtooth had attacked, but they weren’t sure because of the separation in the time when they’d heard gunshots. Eventually they came to the conclusion that he’d been outside – maybe on guard – and had encountered the zombie first.
When they dismounted in front of the cave, both men gagged at the stench of death in the air; it hadn’t been as bad with the single dead man out in the open, but the closed in, plentiful death was more pungent.
Bob unhooked the lantern he’d brought from his saddle and proceeded to light it.
They stood outside the cave for a minute, listening for any movement within.
All was silent except for their breathing and the slight restless movements of their horses.
With a resolute nod, Bob stepped forward through the mouth of the cave, holding the lantern high.
Blood splashed into his vision; it was the first thing he noticed because it coated everything – black and dried from the hot air.
“Good Lord!” Jeffery exclaimed, stepping into the cave and crossing himself yet again.
After the shock of the blood passed, Bob noticed other things: the glassy stares of the dead men; the three torn and tattered bodies lying at odd angles; the insane amount of flies swarming on and around the bodies; and lastly, the saddle bags stored in the far back corner that seemed to be untouched except for a few small spots of blood.
“I bet that’s the money,” Bob said, motioning to it.
He received no response from Jeffery, who was still shocked and mortified by the violent death painted vividly before him by an evil hand.
Stepping over and around the corpses, Bob knelt beside the abandoned saddle bags, setting the lantern on the cave floor beside him.
The diminished lighting seemed to snap Jeffery out of his trance and he noticed what Bob was doing.
“Do you think da money be there?” he asked.
“Only one way to find out,” Bob said, opening the bag closest to him and quickly searching through it; not finding what he was looking for, he went on to the next, and the next, and the next. They all yielded nothing he was interested in. “It would have been too easy, I suppose. . .” He sighed, gripped the lantern handle, and stood. “Let’s get out of here – their dead eyes are unnerving me.”
Jeffery nodded; he didn’t even bother to ask about proper burial since he didn’t want to have to participate in it.
“What we goin’ to do now?” he asked, stepping outside to see Bob hooking the now extinguished lantern to his saddle. “Do you think Houndtooth took da money?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Bob said, mounting his horse. “I’m going to see the Governor.”
Jeffery put his hand on the neck of Bob’s horse.
“I don’t think dat’s a good idea. Is da money worth seein’ da zombie again?”
Bob shrugged. “I have to do the right thing for the citizens of the town. I can’t just stick my head in the sand and wait for the storm to pass. You know families risk losing their land if they don’t get their money back. I can’t have that on my soul when I stand before the almighty! I won’t be a coward no matter what the risk.”
“Do you wants me to goes with you?” Jeffery asked.
“No,” Bob said, shaking his head. “I need you to go back into town and tell Madison what’s going on.”
Jeffery nodded and stepped back, allowing Bob to guide his horse around before he spurred it into a run.
Jeffery watched the Sheriff ride off with a heavy felling in the pit of his stomach. Something told him that things wouldn’t go well at the capitol building.
Chapter 18
The next morning, Sheriff Bob reined his horse to a stop outside the capitol building. He dismounted, tied his horse to the railing, and marched up to the doo
r. He was exhausted and wavered on his feet as he stopped and reached for the doorknob. He prayed things would go well and he would be able to rest a bit before he had to head back to Bristleton, hopefully with the money.
The door opened easily and he stepped inside the somewhat cool interior. A man in a suit vest and white shit was sitting behind a desk in the lobby; he glanced up at the newcomer.
“What can I help you with, sir?” he asked, refocusing on the papers in front of him like he wasn’t too concerned with what the Sheriff might want.
“I’m Sheriff Bob Granger,” he said, forcing himself to stand up straight to his full height. “I’m here to see the Governor.”
“Ah,” the man said standing, finally tearing his eyes away from his task, “he’s been expecting you.”
Bob frowned, but nodded. He wondered why the Governor would be expecting him, but then he thought maybe he’d expected him because they had the money and knew he would come for it.
The man behind the desk led the way down a hall to the Governor’s office; Bob followed.
“What is it, Jacobs? I’m busy!” a voice boomed through the office door as soon as it was opened.
“Sir, Sheriff Bob Granger is here to see you,” Jacobs announced.
“Ah, in that case, send him right in.”
Bob stepped up to the door and entered the Governor’s office when Jacobs motioned for him to do so; his eyes traveled over the space in seconds, taking it all in with his trained lawman eyes. He couldn’t help but notice there was a dust-covered saddle bag sitting halfway under a chair in the corner.
“Your man – Jacobs – said you were expecting me?” Bob asked tentatively, not knowing how to proceed with the meeting.
“Yes,” the older man said, standing. “How rude of me. . . Let me introduce myself. I’m Governor Ishmael Cooper – welcome to my office. Won’t you sit down?”
Bob nodded and sat in one of the two plush chairs sitting in front of the desk; Cooper sat back down as well, in his chair behind the desk.
The room stewed in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes with the men staring at each other, trying to measure up the man they were about to deal with.
“You’ve been expecting me?” Bob asked again, hoping to get information before he asked rudely if the man had the town’s money.
The Governor cleared his throat.
“Well, yes, considering Houndtooth brought back the bag of money the men took from your town’s bank – I figured someone would come to collect it.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Bob said. “We found your method of help. . .strange, to say the least.”
“Oh?” the Governor asked, raising an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Voodoo zombies aren’t an everyday thing, and he was very violent,” Bob said; he noticed how the Governor went completely still and the light in his eyes changed when he’d said “Voodoo zombies.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Cooper said. “I think there has been some kind of misunderstanding.”
Bob frowned. “The man you sent – Houndtooth – was a violent, blood thirsty machine. My man Jeffery told me about Voodoo and how zombies are made by summoning demons from Hell to inhabit a corpse. He sure did look like an undead man with a demon raging within. You should see what he did to the outlaws!”
“Again, I must say, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cooper said, clearing his throat. “The money is there.” He pointed to the saddle bag Bob had spotted earlier. “You can take it with you for your citizens. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.”
Bob stood and retrieved the bag. He felt strange about the entire meeting and wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.
“Would you send Jacobs in on your way out?” Cooper asked as Bob opened the door to the hall.
“Sure,” Bob muttered.
He walked through the lobby and said, “The Governor wants you in his office,” to Jacobs as he exited the building. He didn’t even stop to see if the man heard him, and kept right on going until he was on his horse and out of town.
~
Jacobs rushed to the Governor’s office and went in without knocking.
“Houndtooth?” he asked, not even letting his boss speak.
Cooper grinned and nodded.
Jacobs exited, walked to the end of the hall, unbolted and then opened a door onto a dark flight of stairs that led to the basement; the undead bounty hunter marched up the steps without any prompting and went down the hall and into the Governor’s office.
After shutting the door to the basement, Jacobs went back to his desk.
Less than ten minutes later, Houndtooth walked through the lobby and out the door.
Chapter 19
Bob was so tired that he almost fell asleep in the saddle three times in less than a mile. With an aggravated sigh, he decided he should stop and make camp, even though it was only midday; he chose the spot where he normally camped – by a small stream – when he was in the area.
He had no more than gotten his horse unsaddled and his bedroll laid out, than he heard a shot ring out close behind him.
He whipped out his gun and spun around to see a man fall ten yards from him.
Confused and disoriented from fatigue, he looked around the area and spotted Jeffery and Madison a little ways off; Jeffery waved his rifle in greeting.
Bob raised his hand in acknowledgment and staggered toward the man who’d been shot. To his shock, he realized it was Houndtooth.
He readied his gun and prepared to shoot the zombie, should he rise and attack.
“It’s okay!” Madison yelled, riding his horse hard toward the Sheriff. “Jeffery shot him in the head.” He finished speaking as he reined his horse beside Bob. “Shooting them in the head is supposed to kill them, or so he says.”
“He was after me?” Bob asked, pointing at the downed zombie with his gun. “Why was he after me?”
Madison shook his head. “I don’t know. What did you say to the Governor?”
The dots connected in Bob’s brain and he realized mentioning that he knew about the voodoo zombie to Copper had been a bad idea. He’d sent out his bounty hunter to silence him.
Jeffery nodded as he rode up at a more sedate pace, satisfied with his shot.
“I think you need to get some rest,” Madison said, dismounting and wrapping his arm around the Sheriff’s waist to help hold him up. “How long do you think it will be before the Governor figures out his puppet is finally, really dead?” He looked at Jeffery, hoping for a definitive answer.
Jeffery shrugged.
Bob tried to speak again and passed out instead.
“We better let the Sheriff rest, and then we’ll decide what to do,” Madison said with a sigh.
Being the larger man, Jeffery carried Bob over to his quickly made camp and laid him on his bedroll.
They waited, keeping vigil over Bob through the rest of the day and the night.
Chapter 20
The Governor was suffering from a severe headache, and insisted something had gone wrong with Houndtooth. The pains had started in the early afternoon, not long after the bounty hunter had been sent on his mission to kill Sheriff Bob and anyone else who knew about Houndtooth. But, they waited for his return with the heads of his victims – the Governor’s special request to this particular mission. He never showed and the Governor became more and more uneasy.
Finally, as darkness swallowed the world in night, Jacobs was charged with going after Houndtooth to find out what had happened to him. He was reluctant. He hated the zombie bounty hunter, fearing him with his entire being. He was always scared that the Governor would become displeased with him and he would become a victim of the carnage he’d seen unleashed on many unsuspecting people.
Jacobs shivered as he went out into the night. He’d donned a coat to ward off the chill, but it didn’t stop the shivering that came from within him. He didn’t want to find Houndtooth. He wanted the creature to be d
ead…again.
As he rode out of town, he thought back over his decision long ago to help the Governor. It had all started when he’d been ambitious about politics, right out of school. Ishmael Cooper was just a Mayor then; he’d needed a campaign manager to help his climb to greater things and positions in the world. The west was young and needed men to guide and shape its laws as settlements and towns stared popping up everywhere. Most were lawless altogether, and needed tamed. Cooper had dreamed of change, civilization, and the prospects of power that could come from these fledgling communities. Jacobs knew it would be hard…that life would be hard away from all the amenities he’d grown up with in a wealthy family, but he too had ideals and dreams. Those ideals and dreams led him to follow Cooper. They worked together for years, making good headway. It wasn’t until Cooper’s wife had suddenly become ill and quickly died of the illness, that things changed. Governor Cooper started learning about “strange” practices, which lead to an obsession with the occult. Things spiraled out of control from there.
The Governor took long and extensive vacations, and learned things from old slaves. Jacobs didn’t like it and only had the nerve to voice his opinion once. That had been the day Houndtooth appeared. Jacobs didn’t have the courage to ask where the bounty hunter had come from, but he knew something wasn’t right. He said something, and the Governor made it clear that he was either with them or against them. Ever since, he’d blindly done what he was told in the efforts of self-preservation.
Now, here he was, once again doing the Governor’s bidding against his better judgment. He hoped he wouldn’t end up dead.
The hard-packed, dirt road was lit by only the wane moonlight. The only noises Jacobs could hear were the sounds of a distant owl, his breathing, and the sounds his horse made as it trudged along. He was sure the beast could feel his trepidation, as it was more tentative and skittish than normal.
He traveled for miles without seeing or hearing anything new, and was thinking about turning back when he saw the flickering light of a small fire in the distance. At first, he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him and kept moving forward. When the fire didn’t change position and he could tell he was getting closer, Jacobs finally believed it to be a reality. He slowed his horse, and left the road to investigate the fire.
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