Better Off Without Her (Book One of the Western Serial Killer series)

by Hestand, Rita

  All three men seemed to speculate on all this news.

  "Pa….knew all this…that's why he wanted to go easy on Victor. He figured no kid could dream up that much bad, and he had seen for himself the whelps, burns, and cuts on the poor kid's body. That was no lie, for sure. He reconciled himself that the boy had had enough torture. All he wanted to do was try to help him. Maybe even take him up north to one of them hospitals that might help him a little. But the townspeople weren't having none of that. They thought his daddy was an upstanding citizen and blamed Victor for it all. So Victor went to jail, for a while… It's too late now. Victor had become a monster himself. His mind was warped. He'd never lived a decent life, how could he know anything else? He's a monster, and he can't be turned back…." She cried holding her head in her hands. "You can't wipe stuff like that away from a memory. He never knew what good was. So gentlemen, it ain't his fault, but he is an animal. And more's the pity."

  Wesley held her against him and let her cry.

  "I'm sorry I put you through the tellin' of it, but it had to be. We had to know." Wesley tried to explain.

  She lifted her head, her hair veiling her face. "So, you still want to kill him?"

  Wesley eyed her for a long moment, "We have to….we ain't got any choice in the matter. The boys like a rabid dog, he can't help how he is, but he still needs puttin' down. When a dog goes rabid, you don't want to do what you have to do. Still, it's got to be done. There's no other way."

  She nodded. "Then I want to go with you…"

  "No…" shouted John T. getting to his feet. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you'll just slow us down…"

  Wesley seemed to consider her a moment. John T. stared at him and couldn't believe he might be considering it.

  "It might be just what we need." Wesley nodded.

  Rascal stood up, "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, he kills women, most of the time, and she's a woman. We might have to use her as bait, to draw him out of hiding…"

  "Bait…aw…now, Wesley, that's going too far." Rascal shook his head.

  John T. ground his teeth. "I can't believe you said that…"

  The girl nodded."He's right. You need me, and I want to be there. He killed my Pa, and I reckon he's got to die…for that and many others, but I want to see it with my own eyes before I'll rest easy about it again." She murmured. "I don't think any of us will ever rest easy again. But I gotta see it…"

  "Why?" John T. demanded.

  "Because the day my daddy went after him, he was feelin' so sorry for him…I just want to see him, see his face, and look into it. I gotta know why daddy felt that way. I gotta see it for myself."

  "Of course you do." Wesley said and patted her on the shoulder.

  Chapter Eight

  Almost everyone came by to pay their respects to Pepper's father that evening. The women brought loads of food. The men all stood around the body and talked of him being a brave man, and how it shouldn't have happened. John T. eyed them all, wondering how many had tried to help the Sheriff. If they'd tried.

  "Best Sheriff we ever had…" one man said.

  "None better…" someone else added.

  The women wept with her and tried to console Pepper. Pepper wept silently, but her heart was clearly in her face. The more everyone talked the more Pepper reacted. Not just about her father's death, but by the telling of the story.

  When everyone began leaving Wesley asked her a question.

  "Did you see what his Uncle looked like?"

  "No…I wasn't there…but Ralph over there, he saw him. He's the hotel's clerk."

  Wesley eyed the man. He edged over to the small crowd saying their farewells to the Sheriff. "Is your name Ralph?"

  "That'd be me…" a tall, thin man nodded in the crowd. He rubbed his mustache and came towards them.

  "I hear tell you seen his killer's Uncle." Wesley eyed the man up and down.

  "I had seen him…"

  "Can you give me a general description of him?" Wesley asked. "You see I'm an ex-ranger, and I'm going after him. Along with those two gentlemen over there."

  "Well let me see…" the man played at his mustache."He's tall, and big, real big, like Frank. Got a big scar runnin' down one cheek, the left, I think. Brown and gray hair, big mustache, big beer belly, and loud mouth." The man remembered as he scratched his chin. "That enough for you?"

  "That'll do just fine…" Wesley smiled and shook his hand. "Did you happen to hear where he was headed?"

  "Sure…he was tellin' everyone he was goin' home for the first time in years, north…just this side of Indian territory."

  The other men in the crowd glanced at Wesley, "You men goin' after that killer?"

  "We are…after the funeral."

  "Well, I shore hope you catch him….he killed the best whore in the territory."

  All the men laughed and moved about to leave. Pepper frowned; she obviously didn't appreciate their humor.

  John T. grimaced, as if it were a joke that he killed another woman.

  When everyone was gone, Wesley asked if they could bunk in the barn, Pepper nodded.

  She gave them extra blankets and a lantern and told them she'd leave the porch door open if they needed anything through the night.

  She had made up breads, coffee, and tea for their camping and nodded as they settled their horses in the stable and took their bedrolls down for the night.

  About midnight, they gathered at the house again and Wesley, Rascal, and John T. helped carry the body to the undertaker. As Pepper followed behind. One of the men from town came up to her he seemed to linger near her side. He came out of nowhere. John T. eyed him suspiciously, as though he had no right to be there.

  Pepper didn't seem to mind him being there though.

  "Miss Pepper, I'm truly sorry for your loss. We all are. Your Pa…he was a good man. A good Sheriff. And I know, this ain't the time nor place, but I'd be honored if you'd let me call upon you some time." The young man said as they marched swiftly behind her father's body.

  "That's sweet Calvin, real sweet, but I'm going to find my Pa's murderer first. We'll have to talk about that later…" Pepper said sweetly. "It might have been better if you'd said something while my Pa as alive about it."

  "You mean your going with those men…?" the man asked his gaze sweeping her then them.

  "I don't think I could catch him alone…" she still sounded sweet as syrup, John T. noticed as he continued to eavesdrop.

  Dressed in her black dress and veil, she looked very pretty and John T. found himself staring at her more than he wanted to admit. But even she ought to know where she belonged.

  "That's rather unseemly, Miss Pepper, if I do say so myself…" the young man cleared his throat. "You hardly know these men…"

  John T. was in agreement with this young man even though he would never admit it.

  Pepper stopped and the others stopped with her. "Calvin, I know Wesley Collins. My Pa spoke of him many times. So much so, I feel as though we're kin. Why that man's been a Texas Ranger. How dare you accuse him…"

  "Well…I didn't mean anything….I didn't know…"

  "That's my point, you didn't know…but I did. You think I'm crazy enough to go traipsing around this countryside with a complete stranger? I'm gonna find my Pa's killer, and I'll see him dead, then maybe I'll return, and maybe, I'll let you court me. That is if you apologize to Mr. Collins."

  Calvin turned beet red. "Sorry," he mumbled.

  Pepper stopped, her cheeks bloomed with a natural redness now, in the glow of the moonlight. "You want that man runnin' loose, maybe killin' someone else?" she asked.

  The young man seemed perplexed. "Well…no…of course not."

  "Then I have to go with them, you understand Calvin?" she asked her sweet voice tickling John T.'s insides. He hadn't known her but a day and already he was noticing things like her pouty mouth, and her beautiful long hair, hanging down her back in those little curls at the end. She was quite a woman, even though she w
as small.

  "No ma'am, it's not proper for a lady…"

  "Oh Calvin…I don't feel like arguin' the point with you. My Pa didn't get the job done, I'm gonna see it is. For his sake. Okay. I may not be the son he wanted, but I can at least see that this is finished proper."

  "But…that man's a woman killer, Miss Pepper…"

  "I'm well aware of that, Calvin. That's why I need these men, to protect me." She insisted.

  "Very well, if this is your last word on it, I won't be callin' upon you when you get back, though." Calvin rushed off in another direction.

  "Suit yourself," she mumbled.

  "He was talkin' good sense, you know?" John T. slowed to say just loud enough for her to hear.

  "I may not be welcome, Mr. John T. but I'm goin' whether you like it or not," Pepper said and went around him to open the door for them as they carried him inside.

  The town followed her procession the next day to the cemetery where a preacher said some pretty words over her father's grave. Pepper trembled slightly as they prayed. Wesley put his arm around her to steady her.

  People stopped off and spoke kindly of her father to her, but despite all her bravery, when they began to shovel the dirt over her father's grave, tears slipped down quietly on her cheek, and she muttered softly. "I'll get him Pa. I'll end this…"

  John T. heard her, and his mouth barely curled up. He liked her. Yes sir, he did like her, but she didn't belong with them. It was man's work, and she should know it. This man was very dangerous and she didn't need to be in the middle of it.

  Wesley almost had to pick her up and carry her to the house; she didn't want to leave the cemetery. As brave as she had been, the finality of it seemed to hit her hard and she didn't want to budge.

  "What happened to your Ma, girl?" Wesley asked in a whisper as they walked slowly back to her house.

  "She died of the yellow fever a few years back." Pepper muttered miserably.

  "Then you are alone now?" Wesley asked.

  "I guess I am…"

  John T. heard and frowned at them, for nothing would he admit it pulled at his own heartstrings. Rascal saved the day by stepping up to her close,

  "No you ain't. You got us…"

  Wesley nodded. Then Pepper looked at John T. and with lingering regret he nodded.

  ***

  "Wesley, you done lost your mind. Takin' a girl along on a trip like this. It ain't right. She could get hurt…" John T. argued the next morning before she joined them.

  "She's got as much right as you do, to be there, her Pa died didn't he? She's got more spunk and spice than most I've come across. She'll do just fine. I'll take care of her," Wesley vowed as he packed his horse with Pepper's biscuits and coffee to take on the trail.

  Pepper came out of the house with her supplies and geared up her horse. She was wear a riding skirt and shirt with vest and a black hat that shaded her from the hot sun. She was about to mount when Rascal came up to her and helped her up, "Don't go coddlin' her." John T. snapped.

  "She's a woman, and she'll be treated like one," Rascal vowed shooting John T. a quick scowl. "John T. I hate to remind you, but we'll use our manners and we'll treat this little lady with all the respect she deserves. This ain't gonna be an easy trip, boy, and you need to let the air out."

  Pepper shot John T. a quick frown. "I don't need no special treatment, gentlemen."

  "You won't get any from me." John T. acknowledged.

  "Don't think I ask you!" She snapped and whipped her horse about.

  As she took the lead, Wesley turned his horse so he could speak to John T., "What's got you so all riled up? You kinda like that little gal, don't you."

  "This ain't gonna be some picnic social." John T. Grumbled. "She'll slow us down…"

  "Looks to me like you're the one slowin' down." Wesley chuckled as he galloped to catch up to Pepper.

  "How do we know which way to head?" John T. caught up to him.

  "She said he lit out after his Uncle who was headed north…" Wesley shook his head. "Weren't you listenin'? The man last night said the same, so I reckon we're headed to your part of the country again."

  "That's true enough…." John T.'s words sorta muttered at the wind.

  "Yeah, it is…." Wesley nodded.

  ***

  He'd almost had him; Victor rubbed his jaw where his Uncle had hit him. He'd been so close he could smell his blood. However, almost wasn't good enough. He wouldn't rest until he found Uncle J.I.

  The laughter still echoed in his head. Victor stretched himself in the saddle. Trying to force the ebbs of laughter from his mind, he focused on the country and wondered if he might ever run into Del Lavaga again. He'd liked that kid. He liked all kids. Kids never did any wrong, just grown ups. Grown ups like his Uncle. He'd get him.

  He hated traveling through this country, it seemed the country, and Victor felt the same, lonely, hopeless, and mean spirited. He never thought of himself as being mean, but he guessed somewhere along the line he'd turned that way. It couldn't be helped with a Pa and Uncle as sorry as they were. He'd taught his Pa, now he would teach his Uncle once and for all. He'd kill him, slowly; laughing all the time he was doing it.

  Naw…he wouldn't laugh. He had no reason to laugh. However, once it was done, he could rest, that much he knew. He could finally rest.

  The last small town before he hit Young Territory. Came into sight and Victor reined his horse to stare down into the dim lights coming from the saloon, no doubt. He'd have him a beer, and then get back to huntin'.

  He sauntered into the saloon, and tried to act like everyone else. He had to copy people that was the trouble. For he didn't know how to act around ordinary people. He just copied things they did, things they said, that's how he got along. So far it had worked for him.

  Dry mouthed he waltzed up to bar and ordered a beer. The bartender took one look at him and started to move away. Obviously thinking twice about it, he put out a glass and moved away.

  Victor swallowed the beer in two gulps and banged his glass against the counter for more.

  The bartender returned and put laid another beer in front of him. Victor nodded and threw the last of his coins in his pocket out on the bar...

  A drunken cowboy bumped into him and Victor sloshed his beer on the man.

  "Sorry." Victor mumbled.

  "You ought to be, you big ugly oaf. Where's the hell did you come from?" the drunk man asked.

  "Up the road a bit…." Victor replied and turned away. He understood drunks; his father was the best of them. It seemed when he drank he was even meaner, if that were possible. Now he could rest easy. His Pa was dead and that made him happy. Now to get his Uncle and maybe then….

  The drunk pulled him around by the arm. "Hey now, lookie here what we got here in this here saloon boys. It's the ugliest man alive…"

  One of the saloon girls eased up between them. "Oh now, Harvey, leave this man alone. He hadn't done nothin'."

  "You want him Maudie?" the drunk asked laughing as he swung her against Victor.

  His breath reeked of rotgut beer and his teeth stained to a dull yellow.

  Victor moved to get out of the way, but the woman got closer. She smelled nice and Victor wondered about what it was that made her that way. She smelled like a flower he once smelled. "Why not…" she laughed too now. "Maybe I can show him what a good time is…"

  Her glance slid up and down Victor.

  "Ooh…Maudie…you show him then…" the drunk laughed, and pulled on Victor's arm till he turned around. "Go on up the stairs with Maudie, she'll show you what for Mister."

  The woman they called Maudie grabbed him by the arm and led him up the stairs quietly.

  As they reached the top she whispered for his ears only, "Look, the bartender don't like fightin' 'cause he's got a brand new mirror over the bar. So, if it's all the same to you. You go about yourself now, here…"

  Victor stared at her for a moment, his curiosity overwhelmed by someone who would ca
re about him, or even what the bartender wanted. He'd learned that painted women were whores and that they used their body to make money. He just didn't understand what they used their bodies for. His father and Uncle had gone to town many nights and talked of the whores they had had. But they never told him what they had. So Victor didn't know. There was so much about people he didn't understand. It was too confusing being around people. He'd rather be alone, riding the range, looking for his Uncle. He'd wanted a beer so badly, he had to stop.

  She stared at him a moment and something in her face softened on him, "Well…look…if you want…I can give you…a little…"

  Victor didn't understand. What could a woman give him?

  "C'mon, my room's this way…" she took his hand and led him down the hallway.

  Victor didn't want to go with her. He wanted to leave but she unlocked her door and led him inside. Victor stood inside the room and stared. He didn't know what she wanted. He felt suddenly very trapped and confused.

  "Well, don't just stand there, take off your clothes," she barked as she began to undo her own.

  Victor's eyes widened, when the last stitch she had on fell to the floor and she reached out to him. Fear came up like bile from his stomach as he stared at the woman. Fear of the unknown. What was she doin'?

  "What's wrong with you, ain't you never been with a woman before?" she yelled.

  Was she making fun of him? He didn't like that. He didn't like that at all. He stared at her long and hard, wanting to leave and yet, not knowing exactly how.

  Some strange rage griped him. She was scolding him, and he hadn't done anything. Why did women always scold? The longer he stood there, the louder she got.

  Suddenly Victor reached for her neck, instinctively he felt the slight rush it gave him and he picked her up in the air, and strangled her with his bare hands. He hadn't meant to kill her, just put her away from him, and make her shut up. That was all. He watched as her eyes went glassy, she hadn't even screamed.