No one said anything the next morning, but all seemed to recognize that John T. was staking his claim to Pepper Hardy. Wesley smiled, Rascal nodded and Antonio spoke.
"It is good that you claimed her as yours, senor. As I would have done, if you hadn't." he smiled and leaned to kiss her.
John T. bristled, but it was a simple peck on the cheek and he couldn't be rude. Besides, Pepper didn't object.
They packed their gear, and a chill set in the air that was eerie.
The wind whistled through the brush, like a ghost about to claim them.
Pushing onward. They made tracks.
It was almost noon when they came upon a place. Desolate and vacant, the place looked worse than John T.'s. There was a horse out front, and they figured they could get information here.
Looking about there was little to appreciate of the home place. The horse stirred uneasy like at their intrusion.
"Easy boy," Rascal tried to calm him.
Something wasn't right here, and they all knew it before they dismounted.
Wesley tied his horse to the crooked hitching post. The quiet was so loud they all looked at each other. Wesley glanced about, "Rascal, check the barn…Antonio stay with the horses…John T. checks out back. Pepper you stay there…"
"Not on your life," she mumbled and jumped down.
But as she stepped up on the porch she saw the hole there and pointed.
As Wesley pulled his gun, and the others did too, Pepper went inside.
In seconds Pepper was screaming at the top of her lungs. Not just any kind of scream, but blood curdling screams that didn't stop. Rascal came from the barn, John T. came from the back, and Antonio dismounted. Pepper moved to the side of the porch and threw up.
"My God…what's happened?" Rascal called.
"Oh my God….no…." Pepper screamed.
John T. ran to take her in his arms, and shot Wesley a look of question.
Wesley was green around the mouth; it was plain that whatever was in there was powerfully bad.
Rascal moved to go inside, as Wesley just stood there, staring out, not talking, and just staring out.
"What happened?" John T. questioned as he held Pepper to him and she cried.
"He caught up with his Uncle…that's what…" Wesley scrunched his face up in a wad of frowns.
"How do you know it's him…?" John T. asked.
"I've never seen such a vile thing…" Pepper cried out.
John T. finally set her aside and went inside.
The smell was enough to gag him, but he had to see for himself. He moved into the middle of the room and saw it. Hanging from the rafters was what was left of J.I. Frank.
Other parts lay on the floor, in a huge pool of blood.
John T. came out slowly; he could hardly move himself from the sight.
The blood, and gore and horror of it filled him.
The stench was enough to drive anyone out of that house.
Wesley shook his head at John T. "We've got to put a stop to him soon…"
Antonio stared at them all. He dismounted.
"I wouldn't if I were you," Wesley advised him.
"I must see it…." Antonio frowned. "For myself, senor, what manner of man we hunt."
Wesley nodded.
Rascal moved towards Pepper. "You okay, kid?"
"She will be," John T.'s mouth firmed. "Wesley's right, we have to end this as soon as possible."
"Madre mia…"Antonio ran out his face pale, his stomach roiling. He made the sign of the cross and shook his head. "You are right senor, he must be stopped. At all costs. Until this moment I thought you exaggerated his meanness. That is why I had to see. Now I believe you are right. He has to be killed."
Wesley nodded and firmed his lips, then looked at them all. "That's a terrible thing to have to see in there. However, it's probably the worst you will see. This was Victor's only goal in life. Now he has none. He is lost, and we got to help him find his way. Put him down, and out of his own misery. Because you see…he's probably already realized that he has become what they were. And because he felt the pain of it and lived, he's barely hanging on now. He's a mad dog that has to be put down, and even Antonio must now see why…"
Antonio nodded, "Si…It is agreed."
"We'll take his Uncle into the nearest town…to the Sheriff and explain it all. Then we'll do what we came to do. Once they see this body, won't no one blame us for his death."
They all nodded.
Wesley told Pepper to stay out, while they gathered the body and wrapped him in an old dusty blanket on the floor. They loaded him on a horse and John T. doubled Pepper with him as they led the horse into the next settlement.
All eyes were on them as they made there way into town. Only two places were open a saloon and dry goods.
Wesley dismounted and went into the saloon.
The bartender stared at him. "What'll it be…?"
"You got a Sheriff in this town?" Wesley asked, eyeing the few occupants with mild interest.
"Nope…you got a problem?" the bartender asked.
"Yeah…we do…we got a body outside. Wanted to let the Sheriff know about it, and what happened."
"Ain't no Sheriff within miles 'cept at Mobetiee. Tascosa. I handle most everything that needs be," he said touching his shotgun behind the bar. "Who is it? Anyone I would know?"
"I doubt it. But I'd like you to have a look see." Wesley invited
"Was it self defense?" The bartender asked.
"No, it was murder, and Victor Frank is the man who did it. We're lookin' fer him. Ever heard tell of him?
"Nope…" the bartender threw his towel on his shoulder and came out from behind the bar, "Okay, let's have a look."
Wesley eyed him sharply for a minute. The man was tall, muscular and looked capable of taking care of any ornery hombres.
Wesley nodded,. "Then I want you to witness this, because we will need it."
The bartender wiped his hands and picked up his shotgun. "All right…lead the way."
Wesley brought him outside and pulled the horse carrying J.I. over to the alleyway so the entire town couldn't witness it... "This ain't a pretty site, but you gotta witness it fer me. This man was tortured to death. I want you to see what was done so you can witness fer me later, when we get the man that done it."
"Sure…" he said, but when Wesley pulled the blanket off and showed him what was done, the bartender turned green around the mouth himself. "Jesus, who did this…?"
Wesley studied the man for a minute. "A man named Victor Frank. You still never heard of him?"
"No…cain't say I have. Hope I don't run into him. What kind of man would…."
"A crazy one," Wesley answered. "And we're after him. He's killed many women and three men that we know of…we aim to stop him before it happens again. He's a tall man, good size, with a scared face…."
The bartender shook his head. "Ain't seen anyone like that. Well, I sure won't get in your way. And I'll be your witness."
"Good…now, you got anywhere's a man can be buried?"
The bartender scratched his head, absently he wrung his hands on his apron."I reckon we could take care of that much for ya."
"That'd be a great help as we can't carry this fella no longer." Wesley said.
"I'll get some help, gettin' this fella unloaded. But….you be sure and get this fella…ya hear?"
"We aim to…" Wesley nodded. "We'll be needing some lead and to fill our canteens."
"Take the canteens inside the bar, and the dry goods have lead."
"Fair enough, thanks…"
The bartender nodded, then ran down the street to fetch some help. He came back quickly with three men to help him unload the body.
Wesley went back to tell the others and they waited till the bartender took the corpse.
"Get our canteens filled, " Wesley nodded to Pepper. "Inside there." He motioned for the bar.
Pepper gathered the canteens and took them inside.
/> "We'll meet you over at the dry goods; we got to buy some lead."
Pepper nodded.
Everyone in the settlement came out of hiding to see the goings on. When the bartender told some of the men what happened everyone was watching them.
"We'll be in touch. You got a telegraph out here?"
"Yes sir, it's in the back of the saloon."
"I'll wire ya when I need your statement." Wesley said and they rode mounted quietly.
"You got a name to go with this here body?"
"He's a Frank, but we don't know his first name."
The bartender asked. "For his grave?"
"If we find out, we'll let you know…" Wesley nodded.
"Fair enough…"
Chapter Fourteen
Something inside Victor Frank seemed to have died. It left a hallow heart. He didn't feel a need to push onward. He didn't know where he was going or what he'd do when he got there. But this place called home was nothing to him. And he refused to stay here. He'd killed the last of his own lot and there was no place for him in this world now. He reckoned he belonged with the dead, and he silently wished someone would come along and put him out of his misery.
Knowing this, Victor rode on, with no real destination in mind. It didn't matter where he went, it would always be the same. His father and Uncle were dead and somehow it left a silent void inside him. He'd been driven to kill them. Now they were dead. What was he to do now? Nothing drove him. Nothingness stared him in the face. Alone against a world that did not understand him.
Lost, confused, and fighting a strange depression his horse guided him into the edges of Mobetiee. Another town. Another place, another hardship. He grimaced. People. Strangers.
However, Mobetiee was a noisy, boisterous town full of saloons and fast guns. Its streets were busy. Bullets flew heedless of where they landed. Victor moved about the town restlessly not knowing what he should do. Where could he go and live peacefully for the rest of his life? Where could he find solace?
Parched he went inside the saloon and ordered a beer. It was full of people, smoke, and spittoons full of vermin. Victor blinked from the smoke. His eyes watered. He hated the saloons as much as the people inside them. Women with paint on their faces, men who could barely stand up and an odor that reeked of trash.
He ordered a beer, threw out a coin he'd collected on the floor, from his Uncle, and drank his beer. Most everyone ignored him and that was okay with Victor.
What was a fella like him to do? No one understood him, no one cared. There was nothing to look forward to or backwards from. He was truly lost in a void of his own making. Regret niggled at the back of his mind. Should he have let his Uncle live? It never occurred to him before.
Like he had done so many times, he found a warm spot of ground and let his body slide down to the earth. But the earth wasn't warm and he pulled his thin jacket closer. He closed his eyes. Immediately visions of his deed came before him to haunt him. He cried out and someone on the street stopped to look at him. Rather than ask, they moved away from him. He watched people come and go for a long time.
The truth would not be stilled. Somehow, someway…he had loved his father and Uncle. He had come to love them because they were the only people who knew him and understood him. They had known why he wasn't educated, they knew why he couldn't carry on a conversation with people, they knew why his voice was so distorted. They knew why he was ignorant of the world. Now they were gone. Understanding was gone. Now he must make it around strangers on his own. How could he? Must he continue to copy and pretend. It was hard work . He wanted to rest and forget…but even sleep tortured him.
He'd become his father and Uncle now. The scum of the earth, he'd once thought.
And they had left him here, to manage on his own. Another misdeed unaccounted for.
He wandered about the town till dark. His misery seemed to swell up in him and make him sick. Hungry to find his soul.
Then he heard it. It was a sound unfamiliar to him. He searched the sound out. It was sitting on top of a building. He didn't know what it was ringing for, but he followed it nonetheless. It was so loud. Victor reached to cover his ears. He'd never heard such a noise, although it wasn't a bad noise, it was so loud.
He pushed open the huge oak doors of the adobe building and went inside.
This building was different from any he'd been in. There were colors in the windows, and a figure on a cross timbre stared at him from the middle of the room. The figure was handsome, and barely clothed, with thorns on his head, blood running down his face. Victor stared at it for a long time. Never had he seen such a thing. The man had been tortured. Victor understood that. This man had suffered as he had.
His mouth hung open as he stared at each new thing.
A man in long robes came up to him.
"May I help you?" The man's voice was gentle and he smiled at Victor in an honest way.
Victor stared at the gold necklace around the man's neck, and the strange symbol at the end of it. The man wore plain robes. Victor wondered at this manner of dress. He was a short but very round man, with a face as mild as a woman's. He carried a book in his hand and he welcomed Victor to the house of the Lord.
"Where am I?" Victor cried. "And who is the Lord?"
"This is St. Mathews Church of the Living Christ." The priest said. "All are welcome in this church. I'm a priest and I will help you."
"Church? What is a church?"
The priest looked at him strangely. "It is a tragedy you do not know sir. However, I will explain it all, if you will sit with me. Come and sit…listen and learn my friend, for we are all children of God. This is the house of God. Where you can pray without anyone bothering you, my son."
"Pray…I don't understand…What does that mean?"
"I will endeavor to explain it all to you sir…come…"
Victor followed him to a pew up front. He stared with blank unmoving eyes at the statues, His mind in darkness.
"Who is God…?" Victor's voice rose shrilly.
His sterile spirit stirred the priest to action. The priest smiled and took his hand in his. "My son, you have come to the right place."
They sat in a pew as the priest began to tell him all about who God was. Victor listened with muted ears. His brain lurked in a lonely corner. The thing this man said were strange to him, he knew nothing of a God.
The priest smiled and began telling Victor about his God and his Christ and the beautiful virgin Mary. But Victor was confused and didn't understand what he was saying. He'd never heard of such things. What was sin? What did it mean? Why hadn't he ever heard of this before? Even his father and Uncle had never mentioned such to him. Religion, beliefs, what were they?
The priest seemed to take his time telling him about the story of Christ and about sins and God and salvation. Victor listened but his head seemed to swim.
"Have you sinned my son?" The priest waited for his answer.
"What is sin?" Victor asked innocently, like a child.
The priest seemed to realize his work was cut out for him. "If you will come everyday, I will explain it all to you. But it takes time to understand…"
Victor looked at the statues again.
"Have you broken God's commandments?" the priest chuckled, as though Victor knew what he was talking about.
"What are commandments?" Victor shrugged.
"Have you taken the Lord's name in vain?"
"I dunno." Victor muttered.
"Have you worshiped other Gods?"
Victor shook his head. He didn't know what a God was.
"Have you stolen…?"
Victor shrugged…"Stolen what?"
"Anything, my son…"
"Naw…I ain't took nothing that weren't mine. Except off the dead."
"Good my son…" But then Priest paused and stared at him for a long moment.
"Have you murdered?" the priest asked and was about to ask the next question when Victor's eyes rounded on him.
&nb
sp; "Kilt? Yeah…I have…were it wrong?"
"Yes my son, very wrong…thou shalt not kill…" the priest's eyebrows drew together. "I will pray for you my son."
"Don't matter," Victor shrugged again. "They deserved it, they were bad. They wanted to hurt the children…" Victor stood up and eyed the priest.
The priest nodded at first. Trying to understand Victor's plight. "But killing is a sin, it is wrong, my son. And I will pray for your forgiveness…"
The priest made the sign of the cross and got down on his knee., "I will pray for you now, my son."
Victor felt helplessly lost, grabbed his own hair at the roots, and pulled, and then he ran out into the street again. "No more…I can't hear no more…it don't make no sense to me…"
What was that place? What did it mean? What was salvation? Why should he pray? And how did one pray? He did not understand…
Killing was a sin, it was wrong? But what about the children? What about his father, his Uncle, they needed killing. Didn't the priest understand that?
He was standing outside the church when three young boys came up to the priest who had run after Victor.
"You took the candles from the church last Sunday, did you not?" the priest was asking one of the boys. When he realized he could not catch Victor. Victor hid within earshot.
"Yes, father, we did. But we meant to put them back." One of the boys was saying, as he pushed his dark hair back from his face. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they spoke with the priest and asked forgiveness. The priest blatantly refused to forgive them. Victor did not understand. Hadn't he just spoken of forgiveness?
"But you didn't, did you…?" The priest rebuked them.
"No father…" One boy hung his head in embarrassed silence.
"Where are the candles now?" The priest insisted.
A trace of shame flittered over their faces. "We burned them…they made light for us to eat by…so we burned them padre." One of the boys said.
"Do you not have kerosene for your lanterns?"
Shame made them swallow hard, and look away. "No Padre, that's why we took the candles, God has so much, we have so little."
Better Off Without Her (Book One of the Western Serial Killer series) Page 18
