Apocalyptic Fears II: Select Bestsellers: A Multi-Author Box Set

by Greg Dragon

  “Go on, get outta here,” Connor said with a laugh.

  Cora gave him a wink before sauntering off down the walk toward the hotel to return the breakfast basket to the cook who provided the sheriff’s meals.

  Connor walked up beside Amos and nudged him in the side. “Stop staring at my sister.”

  “Sorry,” Amos stuttered in embarrassment.

  The sheriff laughed. “I’m joking. If she wasn’t family, I’d probably watch, too. Ready to go get in some trouble?”

  Amos crammed his hat onto his head. “Yeah, boss. Let’s ride.”

  Chapter 5

  Charity woke up early on the day of her wedding. She had slept little the night before and felt it in her eyes and face. She yawned wide as she walked down the stairs. Her mother was already up and about, putting the finishing touches on the dresses for the wedding she was in charge of.

  She looked up from the intricate stitching and smiled at her daughter. “You better get going, dear. We don’t want you to be late for your own wedding.”

  The young woman smiled and hugged her mother. “No, we don’t. Try not to be too late either, please.”

  “I’ll do my best, dear. Now, scoot.”

  Charity met the other women at Victoire’s boutique. The attendant was waiting for her when she arrived and ushered her through the main room to a door on the left. A room she had never been in before was set up with chairs and mirrors. All of the chairs were filled except one. Several attendants fluttered about, applying makeup and hair before they slipped the bridal party into their dresses.

  “Come, come here, darling.” Victoire beckoned Charity over to the largest, most comfortable chair set in front of a beautiful vanity. “Sit, please.”

  Charity let herself be pulled about and prodded at while they curled her hair and turned her into a princess. As she watched herself in the mirror, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Her dreams were finally coming true. She was going to be married to the greatest man in the world and she would be the happiest girl to ever live. Even Catherine’s glaring countenance could do nothing to dampen her mood.

  When she was finally ready, the whole group was shuffled out the back door into a string of waiting carriages. Whether it was bad luck or awful planning, Charity found herself alone in a carriage with Catherine, her soon-to-be wicked mother-in-law.

  For several uncomfortable minutes, the only sound was the clop-clop of the horses’ hooves and the roar of the wheels on the cobblestone. Charity looked intently out the window at nothing in particular, trying her damnedest to avoid the deadly glare she was receiving from the bench across the way. Finally, Charity could take no more.

  “What?” she snapped as she glared at Catherine.

  The aging woman’s hard face broke into a grin, a deceptively sweet smile. “I just wanted to tell you that you look lovely, my dear.”

  Charity stared at her and waited for the other shoe to fall.

  Catherine looked her up and down. Her lip pulled up into a sneer as she spoke. “But you are still not good enough for my son, you know. You never have been and you never will be.”

  Charity clenched her teeth and flared her nostrils. Her small hands balled into fists. “David seems to think I am all he needs.”

  The older woman laughed. “David is stupid. He is a darling boy, but he is several eggs short of a full dozen.”

  Charity kept quiet and avoided Catherine’s stare. She couldn’t dispute that. He definitely wasn’t the smartest man she had ever known. But he was the sweetest, and he loved her, and for her, that was enough.

  Catherine leaned over and placed a hand on the bench next to Charity. “You think you’ve won, little girl, but you have no idea what kind of game you are playing. And you’re going to lose.”

  “I—“

  Catherine held up a hand. “No, I don’t want to hear it. I know your type.” She laughed. “I am your type. But I was smart enough to find a husband of my caliber. I didn’t prey on the weak-minded. Be careful, Charity. Your deviousness will come back to haunt you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  The carriage pulled up in front of the church and the door was opened by a footman. Catherine’s smile grew as she turned away from Charity’s baffled face and stepped out into the sun.

  The door closed behind her. Charity was to wait until the others were out and in the church before she exited the carriage. It gave her plenty of time to fret. The woman had something planned. She was sure of it. The tone of the woman’s voice was enough to tell her that.

  The door opened as Charity fretted. “Ma’am, it’s time to go.” The footman held out his hand. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She slipped her gloved hand into his and stepped out into the sun. A red carpet was laid from the carriage all the way across the sidewalk and into the church. A photographer was set up at the end with a camera at the ready. Several men in black suits lined the carpet, blocking pedestrians from crossing. The trilling sounds of the piano echoed out from the open doorway.

  The oohs and aahs from the women standing along the carpet waiting to pass were music to Charity’s ears. Two young girls in matching lilac dresses came down the steps and swept around behind her to pick up her train. They followed her up the carpet to the stairs where two dapper young men were holding the doors open. They bowed to her and she beamed at them.

  The wedding coordinator stopped her just inside, before she walked through the large doors into the nave. “Two minutes, miss.”

  Charity watched as the last of her bridesmaids, Melody, disappeared through the door. Catherine had talked her out of having her own sister in the wedding and she started fuming, but she pushed aside the anger as she caught a brief glimpse of the crowd inside. The pews were packed and there were people standing in the space behind them and along the walls. David was a favorite amongst the young ladies of New York City’s high society, and their nuptials had drawn quite the crowd. Charity bit back a grin. She was the envy of women everywhere for the moment. She was dressed in the finest gown she would ever wear, and she was about to marry the man of her dreams. It was the best feeling in the world, and Catherine couldn’t ruin her good mood no matter how hard she tried.

  The rest of the day swept by in a blur. Charity said her vows and became Mrs. David Banks. Then together they were bundled into a white open-topped carriage for the ride to Central Park. It was drawn by six snow white horses and roses lined the bridles and carriage. Dozens of tables had been arranged in the park around a central wooden dance floor laid over the grass in an open area. Charity danced until her feet hurt and drank champagne until her head swam, all with the biggest grin her aching cheeks could manage. By the time she and David entered the carriage that would take them to the hotel where they would spend their first night as a married couple, the moon had risen and a hundred lanterns were lit so the rest of the party-goers could keep dancing long into the night.

  Chapter 6

  Summer Rain crouched behind the log while Little Bear met with the spirit. She watched with horror as he twitched on the ground. She stared wide-eyed when he rose and walked into the woods toward North Wind. When the screams echoed across the clearing, she clapped her hands over her mouth and curled into a ball, hiding herself from sight. She remained huddled there behind the log for hours, waiting until the shouts and cries dwindled into a stark silence. The night stretched long and lonely. She waited for someone to come for her, to kill her or rescue her, but they never did. Gathering what little courage she had left, she pushed herself back to her knees and peered over the log.

  The fire had dwindled to mere coals, but it offered just enough light for her to see the carnage. Blood was splattered across the grass, but no bodies were visible from her position. Where was Little Bear? Where were the warriors? Leaning over the rock, she saw a black braid poking out from behind a large tree. She stood and crept toward it. Had the soldiers found them? Was that the screaming? She refused to think of the other option. Her hands shook and she took
deep breaths to calm herself. She wished she had a knife but none lay nearby.

  As she drew closer to the tree, feet became visible in the shadows. They were bent at impossible angles. It was not a good sign. She steeled herself against what she was about to find. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her.

  One of the warriors lay on the ground, his body twitching with the throes of death. North Wind crouched over him, tearing chunks of flesh from the dying man’s throat.

  Summer Rain clasped her hand to her mouth, but it was too late. A strangled scream escaped her lips and North Wind’s head jerked in her direction. The warrior’s face and chest were covered in blood. His eyes were a dull gray as he stared at her. He rose, still gnawing on the fleshy tendrils hanging from his mouth. As he took a step toward her, his eyes blazed with hunger. She matched his advance with a step backward. He took another, and so did she.

  “No, North Wind.” Little Bear’s voice came from behind her. “She is mine.”

  Summer Rain spun. The young shaman stood behind her, so close she could touch him. He was covered head to toe in blood, too. He stared at Summer Rain with bloody, black eye sockets. She tried to reverse again, but North Wind was there. His hands brushed her shoulders and she twitched away.

  Little Bear watched her as she edged around the warrior, trying for the safety of the trees. A smile broke across his gray face. “Run,” he hissed.

  Summer Rain’s heart froze in her chest. He sounded so different, so cruel. His voice wasn’t the voice of the kind young man she had known, the man she was going to marry. She stared at him for a second, a long, painful second. Then she spun as fast as she could and darted toward the trees.

  She made it two steps before fingers tangled themselves in her messy braids. She screamed as she was jerked backward. Her left foot caught on her right and she stumbled. But she didn’t fall. Little Bear held her upright by her hair and spun her around to face him. He yanked her head back, forcing her to look up at him from an awkward, uncomfortable position.

  “What happened to you?” she whispered.

  His grin grew. “I became a god.”

  She gasped as pieces of hair ripped from her head. “I don’t understand.”

  Little Bear jerked her head once, pulling a scream from her. “Of course you don’t. Not yet. But you will. I will make you a god, too. And we will be together, forever.”

  She fought against him, beating his face and chest with her tiny fists, scratching him with her sharp nails, but his strength was beyond anything she could have imagined. He pulled her to him, gripping her tight. Her screams echoed off the trees as his teeth tore through the flesh in her chest.

  Chapter 7

  “Are you sure this is a good idea, Sheriff?” Deputy Barnett’s hat twitched as he tried to look every which way at once. He held the reins so tight that his horse danced sideways every few steps as it fed off his nervous energy.

  Connor McClane glanced at the young man and fought back a smile. “It’s fine, Amos. We’re just here to talk. Nothing more, nothing less.” Despite his assurances, his eyes darted to the shotgun holstered on his saddle and he focused on the comforting weight of the twin Peacemakers on his belt. Cora was right. It wasn’t the smartest idea riding out to the Gaines’s ranch without backup, but he saw no other way around it. Arriving with a cavalry at his back would have put them on the defensive immediately and may have resulted in a shootout. He really did just want to talk, and he hoped they did, too.

  The wind whipped through the small canyon that led to the Gaines homestead. The sides were about twice the height of a man, great to hide on and still short enough to jump from when needed. It was the perfect place to set up an ambush. Connor had trouble with just such an issue before when he needed to bring Jed in for questioning on a stage coach robbery. It had almost cost him his life.

  Dust and dried brambles blew across their path. Amos coughed and pulled his bandana up over his nose and mouth.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Amos. The boys might not take too kindly to you tryin’ to look like one of them.” Connor grinned at his deputy, even as he himself longed to pull his own bandana around his face. He blinked rapidly to clear the dust from his eyes and lowered his head to let his hat take the brunt of the next dust swirl.

  “What’s talking gonna do anyway?” Amos relaxed just a smidge and one hand settled onto the gun at his side.

  Connor shifted in his seat and shrugged. “Not sure, to be honest. Mr. Richards has no proof o’ the crime, just his word. And the man’s a bit of a cheat himself. I wouldn’t trust him far as I could throw him. That’s why I want to talk to Jeremiah, give him the benefit of the doubt. You know the saying, ‘Innocent until proven guilty’ and all that.”

  Amos laughed. “The Gaines brothers were born guilty, sheriff. I’ve never once known them to be innocent of anything they were accused of. There was just a lack of evidence is all.”

  Connor smiled. “True, Amos, very true. But still, try not to ruffle any feathers just yet. Not unless we have to.”

  The horses rounded the last curve in the road and the small cliffs dropped off sharply on either side to reveal a wide open area nestled deep within the hills. Richard Gaines had stumbled across the canyon and accompanying meadow two generations ago, when Lonesome Ridge was still barely an outpost with just a dirt track running through the middle of it. He claimed it immediately, making his home in the safety of the valley. The town had been built up since then and now proudly claimed itself as one of the biggest towns in the area. That wasn’t saying much, but it had a saloon and a hotel, a post office, and even a railroad station. It was the perfect place for someone new to the frontier to make their home in relative comfort, and it was also the perfect place for a family of outlaws to make their living. New homesteads were popping up all over the land outside of Lonesome Ridge, and the Gaines family wasted no time helping themselves to whatever they felt they were due at the time.

  The little farm was almost as the sheriff remembered it. The small two-story cabin sat nearer to the entrance of the valley. A barn with room for four horses and two cows was behind it and to the right, accompanied by a large chicken coop that had seen better days. Several small fields grew along the cliff wall on the left, providing just enough food for the families who had lived there for nearly a hundred years.

  But things weren’t quite the same as when Connor was a boy. He frowned as he looked around. The fields were overgrown and crops had not been planted, probably for several years. Boards were falling off the barn and the chicken coop listed dangerously to one side. His eyes roved over to the house again. Weeds were doing battle with flowers trying to thrive along the front of the porch. One window was busted out and the rest were covered in dust. The fence between the barn and the house had holes in it big enough to let a bull through. No animals were visible in the enclosure or anywhere else. Connor used to visit the place frequently as a child and, despite their less than reputable nature, Ma and Pa Gaines always made sure their home was in top shape. They must have been rolling in their graves knowing it was in such a terrible state.

  “The place looks pretty run down.” Amos’s voice was right in his ear. The young deputy had pulled his horse so close to Connor’s that they were almost touching.

  Out of the corner of his eye, the sheriff glimpsed a small white fence built around an apple tree. Richard Gaines had planted the tree when his first son was born. Six crosses dotted the area inside. Two of them were newer than the rest and Connor felt a sadness grow in his chest.

  “Yep,” he said as he steered his horse toward the house. “The boys need a good woman around this place to keep them in line.”

  Even as he spoke, the door to the porch opened and a man stepped out. He was about Connor’s height, but more wiry. His dark hair wasn’t long, just to his chin, but what was there was dirty and matted. He carried a half empty bottle of whiskey in his hand and a big bunch of tobacco in his lower lip. He spat
on the porch when his eyes met the sheriff’s.

  Connor kept his disgust hidden and walked his horse right up to the porch. He pulled her to a stop just in front of the steps and leaned over to rest a forearm on the horn of his saddle. Then the sheriff stared at the outlaw in front of him, waiting.

  “McClane.” The man spoke and gave a small bob of his head. Grudging respect, which was more than Connor had hoped for. The man turned his attention to Amos. “Dog.” A small sneer tugged at the corner of his lips.

  The deputy bristled and his hand went to his gun. “Now you listen here, you—“

  Connor didn’t move and didn’t take his eyes off the man in front of him. “Barnett.”

  The deputy froze. His eyes darted between his boss and the outlaw. With the speed of molasses on a cold winter’s day, he pulled his fingers off his gun and settled back onto his horse. Connor gave him a small nod.

  “Jed,” he said, turning his attention back to the outlaw. “The place is looking mighty untidy. You boys fallen on hard times lately?”

  The man’s nose curled and he spat again. “Nawp. Doin’ just fine, sheriff. No need for frilly bullshit an’ whatnot when I can get all I need elsewhere. Ain’t worth workin’ m’self to the bone when I ain’t gotta.”

  Connor’s eyebrow twitched upward momentarily. “I see.” He paused and glanced around. A face was peering at him in the upper windows, but it darted away when he made eye contact. “Speaking of... where is Jeremiah these days?”

  For a very telling moment, Jed Gaines’s eyes darted to the side, then he spit some more. He leaned against the post at the top of the small flight of stairs and crossed his arms. Teeth as brown as cow dung stretched across his face when he smiled. “Yer guess is good as mine, sheriff.” The last word shot from his mouth with more force than the chew juice had.

  McClane was unmoved. “We just want to talk.” And to have a sip of that whiskey, Connor thought.