He walked out of the house and slammed the door. Her words reverberated in his head, "Who are you, the devil hisself?"
Who was the devil, he wondered?
He peered around the corner at the storm cellar. "You can come out now. Your Ma ain't gonna hurt you no more…"
The boy moved very slowly toward the storm cellar door. He peeked around the door at the man standing by his horse. "Where's my Ma?" the boy asked looking about, waiting for her to catch him out of the storm cellar.
"She's gone…" he eyed the boy "for good. She won't be hurtin' you no more…"
"You hurt my Ma?" The boy hollered. The boy's eyes grew big as saucers. He blinked hard and suddenly tears ran down his cheek.
Victor stared at the boy with surprise."You don't need her, boy." Then Victor Frank rode out of the yard, shaking his head. "You're better off without her," he murmured under his breath.
He heard the boy hollering for his mother. He heard the cry, the scream, and the door banging. He even heard the boy running after him for a mile or more, but finally dropping into the dry grass gasping.
Victor shook his head. Why didn't the children understand, they didn't need a woman yelling at them and making them do things they didn't want to do. He was saving them, and they'd learn that eventually. Children shouldn't be yelled at, hurt, or punished.
Each death affected him the same way, a silent void. The actual kill made for satisfaction. But once it was over, he felt nothing, he wondered if he should? After all, it was his good deed to the world. Shouldn't he feel something?
He looked over his shoulder, and saw the boy crying so far behind him. They always cried. He'd get over it. He had to see that people couldn't get away with mistreating the children.
No one followed but the boy. No one ever followed him.
He felt for the finger in his pocket and sighed. If he could have smiled, he would have. His good deed.
He prodded his horse onward. He didn't feel as good about it as he used to though. The kids cried so when they saw what he'd done to their mother's. He didn't understand. Why weren't they happy? It disturbed him that they were not happy.
Something was changing though, because for the first time he had looked at his victim before he killed them, and studied them like reading a map, from their face. And it came to mind that perhaps loneliness made her punish the child. He'd never contemplated a reason for their actions. He nodded. Loneliness was a powerful bad thing, Victor Frank knew that well. He'd been lonely all his life.
He pressed onward. If he could catch his uncle he might be content at last.
***
"Man this is the longest stretch of nothingness I ever seen…" Rascal mumbled as the sun rose to its peak and beat down upon them without regret. It was welcome after so many cold days.
John T. nodded, glancing at Pepper as he let Rascal catch up to him.
"Ain't seen a settlement, or a house in hours," Rascal added.
Then they heard something, something unfamiliar. It was a long wail of a cry. It came from the small clump of bushes and over growth just ahead.
Wesley signaled to everyone. He rode on ahead alone, his back stiff with anticipation, his arms pumping the rhythm of the horse. The others waited. The quiet alarmed them.
In a few minutes Wesley rode out of the brush with a boy on his horse.
As they all met up, they dismounted and looked at the boy who sat in the saddle with Wesley, his faced stained with dry tears, his eyes hazed with a protruding sadness, his shoulders sagging negatively.
"Hey now son, what's going on?" Rascal dismounted immediately taking hold of the boy and plastering his face with a smile.
"He killed her…"
Rascal's smile faded like the flicker of a candle going out.
"Whoa now, simmer down son, and tell us what happened. Who are you and where do you live?"
The boy wiped his sadness on his arm, and glanced at all of them as if seeing them for the first time. "I live up on the hill, over there. Me and my Ma…."
The boy's chin trembled but he pulled himself up to a proud stance.
"And your pa?" Rascal encouraged the boy's conversation.
"No sir,…just me and my Ma…Pa…why he was searchin' fer a better place to live, but…well, he never came back…." The boy said looking at the man who held him by the arms.
Rascal nodded, holding his inner thoughts in check. "Now can you tell us what happened?"
The boy looked at him, and the others, "A man…rode up into the yard, threw open the door to the cellar…and wanted to know why I was there." the boy shouted his words rising like a growing tide. "I told him….I told him why I was there. I shouldn't have told him…but…I didn't know." The boy's voice grew. "And then he went and he killed her…all on account she put me in the cellar. Why'd he do it…why?"
"I don't know son. Maybe, in some strange way, he thought he was helping you. So go on, what did he look like?" Wesley asked as he squatted down beside Rascal and the boy.
The boy shrugged, "I don't recall much…"
The boy blinked as though he'd forgotten exactly what happened. Or maybe he blanked from him memory. "I shouldn't have cried. I didn't like that old cellar. It's awful dark" His eyes got bigger and fear mounted in his voice. "It's dark in there and there are plenty of spiders and stuff there. Ma knew I hated that cellar. But I knew I'd done wrong too. So I went."
"Did he say anything to you?" John T. probed. "Did you get a look at him at all?"
"I don't know…" the boy said, hesitating at that question. "I cain't remember him good. All I know is he was ugly, and big. That's all. Tall too."
"Why were you in the cellar?" Pepper's voice was soft, concern reaching out to the boy.
"I played hooky from school…Ma didn't like that. She used to say education was important. That without it you become a no-account."
Pepper nodded, "Well, I suppose she was right about that, but why'd you play hooky if you knew better in the first place."
"'Cause the fishin' was good that day, it had rained the day before and the fish always bite after a rain…least that's what my Pa used to say. I sure wanted some catfish fer supper."
"Then what happened, son?" Rascal encouraged.
"He told me to wait there, and then the next thing I know he was comin' out of the house. His boots, they made the most gosh awful sound. Like his spurs were draggin' or something. He said she wouldn't bother me any more…."
"How long ago?"
The boy stared at them and frowned, "Yesterday afternoon'…I run after him…but I couldn't catch him."
"You alone…now?" Pepper asked coming towards the boy.
"I….reckon…" the boy wailed as though he'd just thought of that and was startled by it.
"Put him on the back with you Pepper, we'll take him to the nearest town…" Wesley mounted. "Lets' get moving, we can't let this happen again…"
"We're movin' on into Indian territory I reckon. They pretty much control this area. Seen a few trailin' us back a ways…" John T. nodded.
"Yeah, I seen 'em too. Are they peaceable up here?" Rascal asked.
"Some are, some aren't. I don't reckon they mean us no harm or we wouldn't be alive now. Most been moved more than once to the reservations, but they don't stay. Not long. I reckon if we don't 'cause no trouble, there won't be any." John T. scanned the horizons.
Everyone nodded.
"There's a burial ground on up a ways, we'll have to take the long way around that, or there will be trouble…" John T. announced.
Wesley and Pepper rode up to them then, "Burial grounds, you say?"
"Yeah, another ten miles or so. We'll have to make tracks around it, or we'll have every Indian this side of Texas down our throats. They're kinda touchy about that…" John T. smiled slowly.
"You think we should ration the water, I ain't seen a hole fer miles," Wesley asked.
"We got a well…." The boy mumbled.
Pepper turned to look at him, "What'd you
say."
"We got a well…" he glanced up at her shyly.
"A well, huh? All right boy, you, and Pepper lead the way. We'll go bury your Ma, and pack us some water, then head for the nearest settlement." Wesley instructed.
"Which way" Pepper asked the boy, taking out a bandana and pulling her hair back with it.
"Just up the hill a ways…I don't know how far I run yesterday…I tried to catch him but I couldn't. I guess I fell asleep in the corn patch, I don't remember much else."
"Well, sounds like you need a little rest. Are you hungry?" John T. smiled over at the boy.
"I sure am hungry…my Ma…she was fixin' supper…when…."his words drifted off.
"I expect I can rustle us up some food…while we are here." Pepper announced.
The home place looked deserted, as a sprained door swung open and shut from the wind, the chain from the well bucket banged against its post. John T. shuddered, but rode on up into the yard.
The boy hopped down quickly from Pepper's horse and ran towards the house, but as he got closer he slowed down as though his feet were thinking for him. He turned and looked at them, and stopped. "She's in there…." He gulped back a sob.
John T., Wesley, and Rascal nodded and started in.
As they brought his mother out, Pepper took the boy around the corner of the house and distracted him by gathering the clothes off the line. She told him he'd need to pack a bag of his stuff and they would take him into the next town. The boy nodded.
"You got any kin in town?" she asked.
"Nope, but old Pop that runs the dry goods store, he knows me and I could probably stay with him a while…." The boy said his eyes drifting toward the front yard and the pile of dirt that was slowly building. Pepper knew he had heard the shovels.
"Good we'll talk to him, then." Pepper agreed. "So, what do they call you?"
"Michael…Michael Hayden….what do they call you?"
"Pepper, Pepper Hardy."
"That's a strange name…" the boy shook hands with her.
"I never thought of it, I guess it is…" Pepper laughed.
While the men buried the lady, Pepper cleaned up the kitchen and began making some cornbread and stirred the beans over the fire. "This is still warm; I reckon we can eat it."
"We got steaks cut up in the icehouse." Michael said. "Want me to go fetch us some?"
"That would be great," Pepper smiled. "And be careful."
Pepper busied herself and before long had a decent meal on the table. She peeked out the kitchen window and saw Michael staring at the newly made grave. She hollered his name and he turned and came running.
The woman had some nice china, and Pepper set a grand table for them as they all came in hot and sweaty.
"Ya'll wash up and come to the table, it's nearly ready." She instructed.
Michael had helped her find some pickles in the pantry and fresh canned corn and it was a meal to behold.
But as they would have dug into the food, the boy bowed his head; he glanced up at them and shook his head, "We gotta give thanks…Mama taught me to give thanks…."
Rascal nodded, "He's right…we should."
Everyone bowed their heads.
"Michael says there's a store man in town that might take him in." Pepper explained as she passed the food around the table a few minutes later.
"That would be good. Is he married?"
"Yes sir….Ma Struthers is a nice lady, and they don't have no kids…."
"We'll talk to them, son. See what we can arrange." Wesley nodded. "Man this is shore good, girl."
"The beans and cornbread are especially good." Pepper smiled at Michael.
Michael looked around the house and realized that his mother wasn't going to be here any longer and tears welled in his eyes. Talk of him living with anyone else made him quieter. Worry crawled upon his forehead.
"Don't fret Michael. We'll see you are taken care of." Pepper promised in a whisper.
The boy looked up at her with eyes that almost talked for him. "I don't mind leavin' here. Me and Ma, we hated it here, but this is as far as Pa got us west, so this is where we stayed. But there ain't no people around for miles and it gets a mite lonely. Ma, she was lonely after Pa left. She never smiled again that I can remember. I tried to make her smile, but she wouldn't. I asked her once if she thought Pa was dead…and she never said…she just stared outside for the longest time, like he might walk in any minute."
John T. reared his head and his heart went out to Michael. He certainly knew that feeling.
"How long's your Pa been gone, boy?" Wesley asked.
"I'd just turned four when he left."
They all glanced at each other. "You never got no word on the matter?"
"No sir…."
"We can look into that fer ya kid."
"I'd like that…I'd like that a lot."
There was only one sizeable bed, and all the men agreed that Pepper should have it. The men made pallets on the floor. Michael brought out all the quilts.
"Is there anything special you'd like to take with you, Michael?" Pepper asked as she looked around the house.
The boy seemed to think about that a minute. "Ma's horse, and wagon, and these quilts are ones she made herself. I'd like to keep mine and sell the others. Ma was right good with a needle."
"Then we'll take them all." Pepper rubbed his head.
"You married Ms. Pepper?" Michael asked as watched her fold the extra quilts.
"No…why?"
"You're awful pretty…if I was older…I'd marry you."
"Thank you Michael…" Pepper laughed.
The next morning after gathering everything Michael decided to keep they headed toward the settlement.
The settlement was just that, a settlement, no town, just one store where everyone tended to business and a few houses about.
They wasted no time approaching Pop about the boy.
"Is there a way you can take him in? He doesn't have anyone…" Pepper stated.
"Well…" the old man glanced at the boy and then up the stairs at his wife who was smiling and nodding. "I reckon we could."
"Good. He spoke very highly of you." Pepper added.
"Michael is a good boy, never causes a moments worry. We'd be glad to have him here."
Pepper smiled. "He's brought a few things, some he wants to sell, and others he wants to keep. He has a good horse and wagon outside, they are his."
"That's fine, Michael, we'll take good care of them for you."
"Only…" Michael pulled on Pepper's jacket, "this is for you, Miss Pepper."
It was a lovely quilt, soft and colorful. Pepper thanked Michael and was about to go when he stopped her with one question. "You will get him, won't you?"
"I promise…" John T. was watching everything from the doorway.
"Would you stop back by and let me know?" he asked.
John T. eyed the boy then broke into a wide grin. "We will…"
"Thanks." he nodded and turned back to Pop and watched them leave through the window.
Chapter Eleven
John T. watched Pepper's movements and everything inside him lit like a fire. He kept tying to ignore her, but the more he tried to the more he couldn't take his eyes off her. Not only had she been a trooper on this trip through hell, but also her courage hadn't failed her either. It was a brand new kind of hunger and he knew he'd have to simmer it, because they were not out here for anything other than Victor Frank.
He could tell by the looks Pepper had given him all morning that she was stunned too at the fire between them. She'd didn't have to tell him she was a lady though, he knew it instinctively.
Being in heat for a woman in the middle of a cold desert while looking for one of the most dangerous men in the west, was not the time nor the place, but the fire was there no matter, and it festered within him at the most inconvenient times.
His determination to protect Pepper was ten times stronger now. And he knew she could end up in more
danger than any of them. He wished silently that Wesley hadn't brought her along.
Along the silent trail were bones of cows, and even a few people. Some were new deaths; others had been there for a decade or more. They'd stopped a time or two to bury them, and put a makeshift cross up with no name. Silently they all wondered what kind of stories these people could have told had they lived. Remnants of a wagon train passing made them even sadder. One set of bones was clearly that of a baby and Pepper became emotional at seeing it.
It seemed pointless, but they were human bones and they couldn't leave them like that. After all, there were no names to mark the graves with, but at least they all felt better knowing they tried to set things right. It all seemed to go with the territory; this dry desolate land took lives like a twister, fast and furious. It was famous for dry watering holes.
However, nothing prepared them for the shock when John T. happened to look down and saw it. His eyes flamed. He rubbed them, thinking it some kind of mirage. He stopped, threw himself off his horse, and stooped down to pick it up. When he realized that it could have been his mother's, he threw it down in the dirt with disgust and pain so deep he almost yelled aloud.
"My God…" he gasped and turned away with disbelief.
Wesley doubled back to see what was going on, "What's wrong?"
John T. couldn't talk…he just nodded to the dirt.
Wesley jumped down to examine it, and then grimaced. Even he couldn't speak for a few minutes.
Rascal joined them, and when Wesley handed him the remains of a finger, Rascal chunked it as far as he could see. Bile rose in their bellies. No one could talk. They tried to hide their own grief and disgust.
"Well…we're on the right trail…at least." Wesley nodded his voice sounding hollow.
Pepper joined them and after looking from one to another asked what was wrong.
None of them could tell her.
Nevertheless, as they rode, they noticed more of the same, and bit back a curse word or two.
Better Off Without Her (Book One of the Western Serial Killer series) Page 14
