by Mark Tufo
The first attack on the door armed the ‘special security’ measure he had Anthony install. The second, and much stronger attack, set off the security measure, removing Miller’s head from his body with a double shotgun blast set at head height from the eave of the house.
The figures running up to the house slowed their advance as they watched Miller’s head splatter. Sheriff Scott Evans had been close enough that he saw something—he couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but it was shaped like a person with glowing red eyes—turn and face the group. The eyes slowly faded from red to orange to yellow; then, the mist evaporated and blew away.
Ben Gregory stepped up to Miller’s bloody form and paused. “No sense checking for a pulse. There’s no head left.”
“Fuck me,” Bridger cursed. He turned to face Scott, “Now we’re square.”
Scott simply nodded. “Denise, set up the perimeter and call Doc. Tell him to rouse Murphey and his boys.”
“On it.” She stepped away and pulled her cell phone to make the call.
Eckerson’s limp became much more pronounced now that the adrenaline pumping through his body was gone. He looked to Justin. “Do you think it’s over now?”
“God, I hope so. But, just to be on the safe side, we ought to grab ALL of his Western collection and have Dr. Whynot do his thing.”
“Agreed,” Sanders said, shaking her head.
Ben turned back to the team and opened his mouth to say something, but decided not to. He decided that maybe it best to keep the entire conversation he had with Jana to himself. He glanced to the east and saw the sun breaking over the horizon and suddenly felt very, very tired. Leaning against the wall of the house, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Foo. He wasn’t really surprised when Ginger answered. “Hey, pretty lady, how’s it going at the graveyard?”
“We’re ready. Were you able to do any good at the Miller Ranch?”
Ben sighed into the phone. “It’s over. We’re packing up all of the stuff here and bringing it out there. Is Calvin still okay with redoing the ceremony?”
“He’s hoping we won’t have a repeat performance of earlier, but he’s as ready as he’ll ever be.”
“Okay, it may take a while. There’s a ton of crap out here. I just wanted to let you guys know what was up and that it would take a while.”
“That’s fine. Once we have everything set up here, I think I’m going to take a nap.”
“Oh, damn. You really are a tease, aren’t you?” Ben moaned.
Ginger laughed. “Shh. Don’t tell Jon.”
*****
Calvin, Jon and Eckerson took the longest, strongest pry bars they could possibly find and pried the capstone off Sheriff Tolbert’s grave. With the proper tools, the job was much easier. The three men propped the capstone up and braced it so that the grave was fully exposed. Calvin salted both James Tolbert and Mary O’ Dell. It was theorized that if Mary was pregnant, then a part of James still existed that was untouched by the elementals, the salt and the flames…so both corpses needed to be treated.
It was also theorized that if any of the ju-ju from the artifacts could have rubbed off on the other artifacts, there was no sense in taking chances. It would ALL be torched. Calvin didn’t care the cost, or the value or the expense, they weren’t taking any chances.
Jeff had stopped and got six one-gallon bottles of kerosene lamp fuel. Although harder to light, it burned hotter and longer, hopefully long enough to destroy the corpses entirely and destroy anything nonmetallic.
Calvin covered the bodies with salt and recited the Prayer of the Dead three times…just to be sure.
*****
Justin threw in the last of the artifacts and joined Eckerson on the porch of the church. Jeff handed him the coffee and the last doughnut. Scott sat in the shade of the porch as the midday sun blasted the area. Calvin poured the last gallon of kerosene on the pyre while reciting the Prayer of the Dead for the ninth time, then sprayed the pyre with the remnants of the charcoal lighter fluid. Quinn stood back and tossed a torch onto the heaping pile. The resulting >WHOOSH< and the heat coming from the flames made everyone present put a hand up to protect their face.
“As if it wasn’t hot enough already,” Scott said.
“No shit,” Ben muttered.
“What I wouldn’t give for a cold beer,” Jon said absently.
Eckerson and Zimmer gave him an odd look. “I thought you were Mr. Healthy Eating?” Jeff said.
“Are you kidding me? After the week we’ve had? You assholes have me hooked on coffee, doughnuts, and Red Bulls. My diet is screwed.”
Ginger sighed. “Hey. We aren’t being attacked.”
“Yay,” Ben deadpanned, unconvinced that it still couldn’t happen.
Scott lowered his face and shook his head. “You know…I watched the video. I even saw that…thing at Miller’s place. I still can’t wrap my mind around the events that took place here.”
Sanders patted his shoulder. “You can’t believe it? What am I supposed to tell DPS when I get back?”
Scott shook his head. “Whatever you want to tell them.” He sipped his coffee and looked around at his exhausted crew. “Mandatory three days off once this fire is out. Every one of you.”
“Just three days, huh?” Jeff said. “Hell, I figure with the overtime we’ve put in, we should have about two week’s coming.” He shot Scott a wry grin.
Scott gave him a pat on the back. “Ah, but you’re a salaried employee. A slave to the system.”
“Damn.” Jeff laughed. “And here I thought Lincoln freed the slaves.”
Scott’s phone rang and he looked at the caller ID before opening it. “It’s Denise.” She was still going through the crime scene at Miller’s Ranch. He answered the phone and Scott’s expression changed to one of disbelief. “What?” he asked rather loudly, getting everyone’s attention and sending a chill of fear through them. “Are you sure?” They all turned to him for an answer, but he simply held a finger up to hold them off. “Damn right I do. Snag it and bag it. Grab the will, too, enter it all into evidence.” He hung up the phone and stared off at the fire. “You are not going to believe what Denise just found in Miller’s house.”
“Leave us in suspense, boss,” Justin said lazily. “I’d rather wait for the movie.”
Scott smacked him in the back of the head. “She was looking through his ‘receipts’ for all of his crap that we’re burning. She said it was pretty obvious that most of it was either faked or taken from somebody else. Don’t ask me how she can tell, but that’s her job. Guess what she found?”
“Jimmy Hoffa?” Eckerson asked.
“I’ll chock that up to your being sleep deprived.” Scott shot Jeff a dirty look. “No, she found a handwritten will. It leaves everything to the housekeeper. It was dated the night of his death. But since Texas law doesn’t require a notary for holographic wills, it supersedes anything he may have had before. She gets everything.”
“No shit?” Justin sat up, intrigued. “Imagine that! Does she know?”
“I somehow doubt it,” Scott said. “She was scared shitless the entire night and wouldn’t come out of her room.” He turned to the rest of them, “But that ain’t the best part. She also found a letter written in his own hand, claiming responsibility for all the deaths that have occurred in Wood County since this whole shit storm started.”
“What?!” Sanders blurted. “There’s no way that moron could have done all this.”
“We know he didn’t do it!” Justin slumped again. “We all got tossed around by this damned…Casper the spastic ghost!”
“Regardless. It’s in his own hand, and he’s admitting to it.” Scott turned to Sanders. “You wanted something to tell DPS?”
Sheryn was shaking her head and backing away from him, “You expect me to lie to them?”
“Would you rather tell them the truth?”
She stood and stared at him, her mouth open, but the words were unable to form. “No,” she finally g
ot out.
Scott nodded. “I’d rather not tell the good people of this county that a damned ghost was running around killing people.” He stood up and looked at each of his people. “What do you say? Do we go with the easy way out this time?”
One by one they all nodded. Scott finally turned to Constable Gregory. “This won’t work without you, Ben. What do you say?”
Ben stared at the ground and sighed. “It would have made a helluva Stephen King movie. But you’re right. I’d rather the people of my district not be afraid to go out at night either.”
“So it’s settled. I’ll make sure that Denise is on board as well.”
“What about us?” Calvin asked cautiously. “I was hoping to publish based on this.”
Scott inhaled deeply and stretched his neck. “Doc, I can’t force you to not do something.” He shook his head and spread his arms wide. “We’re just country folk. If you feel like you need to do that, then…I guess do it.”
Calvin looked at Quinn who shook her head. He checked Ginger who simply averted her eyes. He sighed heavily and stood to face Scott. “Well…maybe if I have to use the data…we can simply reference the case number and not the exact location.”
“That would be much appreciated.” Scott extended his hand. Calvin took it, but he felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as if his third doctorate was slipping away from him with this agreement.
*****
Three days later, Deputy Jon Foo stood beside the Little Hope Baptist Church with a shotgun at the ready and watched as the county road crews brought in loads of fill dirt for the open graves. As another county employee used a Bobcat front end loader to navigate between the narrow lanes between graves, prisoners from the block stood by with shovels and rakes to smooth the soil and spread it evenly. Deputy Eckerson sat horseback and watched while other inmates ran Weed-Eaters and push mowers, cleaning up the area around the cemetery.
The first order of business was pushing the giant capstone back over the grave of Sheriff James ‘Two Guns’ Tolbert and his fiancée. Their bodies were properly cremated in the fire and the Old West memorabilia was all but turned to ash. There was now a solid chunk of what most might call pigmetal in the bottom of the vault, but it was still considered a grave, so it would be sealed and buried, the stone set straight and cleaned.
Jon turned when the large RV honked its air horn. He motioned to Eckerson who urged his horse over to fill in the gap between where Jon was standing while Foo went to say goodbye.
Ginger threw open the door to the RV and stood waiting for him, her eyes rimmed with tears. “It’s that time, big boy,” she said, her voice breaking.
“I wish you’d stay.” He pulled her into his arms.
“Me? In this one-horse town?” she joked, nodding toward Jeff on his nag. “Not my style, sweet cheeks.” She leaned down and kissed him. “You could always come out to LA?”
“I’m a country boy. Besides, what would I do out there?”
“We have criminals on the coast, too ya know. Probably a lot more than you have here. They could use a good cop.”
He chuckled and pulled her tighter into his arms. “You coming back?”
“Fall break. I promise.”
He nodded and tried really hard not to get misty. “I’m going to miss you like crazy.”
“I’m not going to say I love you,” she said, choking up.
“That’s okay. I’m not going to say I love you even more.” He pulled her tight and kissed her deeply.
“You two stop before I start crying,” Quinn said from inside. “I swear, I’m about to punt her right in that tight little ass of hers and drive off without her.”
“Like hell you are!” Calvin shouted from further inside. “I love you, but you can’t drive for shit.”
And the fighting began…
Ginger laughed through her tears and pushed herself away from Jon. “Fall break, Officer Friendly.”
“I’ll be here. I promise.” He had to wipe at his eyes.
“It’s a date.” She backed her way up the steps and into the RV. Jon pulled the door shut and patted it twice. He stepped back and watched it drive off down the dusty road through the ghost town and he prayed that nothing happened between then and fall break that changed her mind.
He turned and marched back to his duty. Jeff kept the horse steady as Jon approached. “You okay?”
“Nope.”
“Okay then.” Eckerson reined the horse around and took it back to the rear of the church.
The county employees and the prisoners worked throughout the day, restoring the cemetery to its pristine glory. When the day was done, the headstones and markers had all been scrubbed clean and reset, the graves all filled in, their tops rounded so that the soil could settle and flatten over time and the grass cut and manicured to that each grave was easily identifiable.
When the county crews left and the wagon came to pick up the prisoner work detail, Jeff took the horse back through one last time and double checked everything. As he sat atop the Quarter horse and stared out at the scene, he felt, perhaps now, James ‘Two Guns’ Tolbert could finally rest.
Epilogue
Maria Santiago walked through HER home and sighed. Today was the day. She could feel it. After she prepared her breakfast, she washed the dishes and put them away. She took a nice, long, hot shower and dressed in her Sunday finest.
She went to her ornate dresser that was once Mr. Miller’s and pulled out the little box that held the gift that had been left for her in her tiny room. It was so beautiful…she could hardly take her eyes off of it. In fact, she was afraid to wear it for fear that she might break it. But today was different. Today, she would wear it.
She slipped on her shawl and a dark sunhat and her favorite riding boots and she went out to the garage. Mr. Miller had left her so many vehicles, but her favorite was the Lincoln Navigator. She knew now why he had always chosen it over the others. It sat higher than the cars, and it rode so smooth over the rough county roads.
She started the truck and drove slowly through the countryside, enjoying the view and the weather. It was still early in the day and the sun had yet to make the day too hot to enjoy. She reflected back on the past few days. She remembered her shock of finding out that Mr. Miller had left her his belongings and she was frightened. She knew that he had no family. No extended family either…he was alone in this world.
She had felt sad for him for so long; yet, here she was now. She had been his family and never knew it. But it wasn’t truly him that did this, was it? She smiled as she thought about it…she was convinced it was her friend that smelled of honeysuckle.
The first thing she did when his estate was legally made hers was give the horse ranch to her son. He loved the horses so much, and the house there is big enough for him to fill with many grandchildren. At least, she hoped so.
She continued to drive, dreaming of what she could do with Miller’s fortune, the family in Mexico that she could help, the people here in Wood County…the things were endless. She could build a shelter, or a hospital, or help poor children to go to colleges or…just so much. You can’t take it with you, can you? Ask Mr. Miller, he would tell you. If he could.
She pulled the Lincoln onto the bumpy dirt road and slowed the truck way down, driving slower as she looked at the buildings in the old ghost town. She had been meaning to come out here for days now, but wanted to wait until all of the work was done on the graves. She wanted to see it cleaned up and after the graves were filled in.
She drove through the ghost town and pulled past the buildings to the far side of the town. When the Little Hope Baptist Church came into view, she pulled the truck to the front and stopped. She sat in the truck and stared out at the little grave yard, a smile crossing her face. She had to get out and see for herself.
Shutting off the ignition, she stepped from the truck and already the heat was building. She put the sun hat on and removed her shawl. She left the sunglasses on though as s
he walked through the graveyard. It looked so pretty out here. They had really done a beautiful job of cleaning it up and making it look nice. They had even repaired the little wrought-iron fence around the perimeter of the yard.
She stepped around the fence and to the porch of the church. Being careful of soft spots, she stepped to the edge and down into the graveyard. She walked through the graveyard and touched a few of the markers. They looked really good once they were cleaned up and reset straight.
She sighed and finally looked to the rear of the church. No matter how much she hated what was coming, she knew she needed to do it. She turned and walked to the back of the church. As she approached the grave of Sheriff Tolbert and his fiancée Mary O’ Dell, she paused and felt a tightness in her chest. She saw the marker proclaiming their names and their everlasting love, their dates of birth and the date of their murder and the tears began to flow.
“It wasn’t fair,” she cried as she stood at the foot of the restored grave. “It just wasn’t fair.”
Maria stood silently for a very long time, the shade of the rear porch slowly creeping away as the sun climbed higher into the sky. Maria knelt at the grave and said a prayer for the young couple, made the sign of the cross then pulled her gift from her collar. She kissed it and with a gloved hand dug a shallow hole in the fresh earth of the newly restored grave.
She gave one last longing stare at the cameo broach before she placed it into the soil of the grave and pushed the earth back over the top. “Goodbye, Mary,” she whispered. “Your presence will be missed.”
She turned a tear streaked face to the sky and whispered, “I hope you can finally find peace now.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Heath Stallcup was born in Salinas, California and relocated to Tupelo, Oklahoma in his tween years. He joined the US Navy and was stationed in Charleston, SC and Bangor, WA shortly after junior college. After his second tour he attended East Central University where he obtained BS degrees in Biology and Chemistry. He then served ten years with the State of Oklahoma as a Compliance and Enforcement Officer while moonlighting nights and weekends with his local Sheriff’s Office. He still lives in the small township of Tupelo, Oklahoma with his wife and three of his seven children. He steals time to write between household duties, going to ballgames, being a grandfather to five and being the pet of numerous animals that have taken over his home. You can visit him at heathstallcup.com, Twitter: @HeathStallcup, LinkedIn or at Facebook.com for news of his upcoming releases.
