The Hen House

by Sharon Sala

  He had signed off on the wagon, and was on his way outside to find Eulis and give him the news, when a man he knew only as Cecil walked into the smelter office.

  Cecil saw Robert Lee and quickly took off his hat.

  “Hello there, Robert Lee. Sorry to hear about your boss. He was a right good man.”

  Robert Lee froze, staring at the man as if he’d lost his mind.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Cecil stared back in shock and then looked away.

  “Say, I’m sorry. I reckoned that you already knew.”

  Robert Lee grabbed him by the shoulders.

  “I said… what the hell are you talking about?”

  Cecil pulled out of Robert Lee’s grasp and took a quick step backward.

  “Eulis Potter was gunned down in his own yard this morning. The woman who works for them came into town to get the sheriff.”

  Robert Lee felt his blood run cold. He tried to form the words, but it seemed they just wouldn’t come. It wasn’t until Cecil started to walk away that he finally asked.

  “What about Letty? What about Mrs. Potter?”

  Cecil shrugged.

  “Can’t say what happened to her.”

  Robert Lee’s mind went blank. He walked out of the smelter office, got on his horse, and rode down Main Street, then headed up the road to their house. The road was too steep for his horse to run, but he wouldn’t let himself panic. Surely, if Letty had been a victim, Alice would have mentioned that, as well.

  When he finally got to the house and dismounted, his legs were shaking so hard he could barely stand up. He moved up the steps, took a deep breath and then walked in the front door without knocking, calling out Letty’s name as he went.

  Alice came running from the back of the house with her hand to her heart, fearing that the killer had returned. When she realized it was Robert Lee, she began to cry with relief.

  “Thank God that it’s you,” she said, and sobbed anew.

  “Is it true? Is Eulis dead?”

  “Yes, dear God, it was awful,” she said, and covered her face with her apron.

  Robert Lee grabbed her by the shoulders—his voice so tight with fear he could barely make himself heard.

  “Letty… did they shoot Letty, too?”

  Alice dropped her apron as she shook her head.

  “Lord no, but I thought they might. She threw herself on top of Eulis. I could tell he was gone, but I couldn’t get her off. She kept screaming and screaming and—”

  The thought of her anguish was like a knife to his heart.

  “Where is she?” he asked, looking up to the second floor. “Is she in her room?”

  Alice started crying again.

  “If only she was!” Alice said.

  Robert Lee frowned.

  “Then where is she?”

  “She went after him,” Alice said. “Made me pack up some food for her while she went to get the rifle. I tried to stop her, but she rode off like a madwoman.”

  Fear struck Robert Lee anew.

  “Sweet Jesus! Which way did she go?”

  Alice pointed into the trees at the back of the house.

  “The shots came from back there. She rode into the trees with T-Bone. I haven’t seen her since.”

  Robert Lee felt sick.

  “How long ago?”

  “Three or four hours, maybe more. I’ve lost track of time.”

  He swore softly, then strode out of the house, untied his horse, and mounted on the run. He saw the dark stain of blood in the earth as he circled the house, then looked past it to the sight of Letty’s tracks. He couldn’t allow himself to consider the dead when there was still a life that might be saved.

  ***

  George Mellin had been staking out the Potter house ever since his release from jail. The first time he’d seen his wife come out of the back door of the house, he thought he was dreaming. It wasn’t until he’d seen her several more times that he realized she was living there. He didn’t know how it had happened, but the fact that she was living in luxury in that big, fine house while he was forced to make cold camp alone in the woods, only added to his anger.

  He’d seen Letty Potter coming and going many times. It had given him a sense of power to know that he could kill her and be done with it at any time. But that didn’t seem like payback enough. If she died, then she wouldn’t suffer, and he wanted her to suffer.

  It had finally dawned on him that the best way to hurt Letty Potter was to take away the thing she loved best, which he knew was her man. He’d had to deal with their damned dog nosing around his camp, and more than once awakened to discover that the dog had carried something off. Thanks to that dog, he didn’t even have a hat anymore.

  He’d started to shoot the pup, and then realized he couldn’t shoot it without alerting the Potters to his presence. After that, he’d tried to catch it, but failed miserably. It would be a simple matter to slit its throat, but he hadn’t been able to get close enough to grab him.

  So, he’d watched the house for the perfect moment, waiting until both Eulis and Letty were outside at the same time, because he wanted the bitch to watch her husband die. He wanted her on her knees, the same way she’d done to him, and today, it had happened.

  He’d been up since before dawn. When he saw Eulis Potter emerge from the house and go toward the horse shed, he stood up. The dog knew he was out there, but he’d been in the vicinity for so long now that the dog took his presence for granted. For that reason, no alarm was sounded.

  He’d waited impatiently, willing Letty Potter to come out before her husband left for the mines. He’d been disappointed before, but something told him today was the day.

  When he saw her come out of the house and walk to the outhouse, it had been all he could do not to shout. At last he was going to get his revenge.

  He waited impatiently, his hands shaking as he kept the rifle to his shoulder. He watched her come out, and when she started toward the house and her man was still nowhere in sight, he began to panic.

  “No, no,” he muttered. “Come on, damn it. Get your lazy ass out of that shed.”

  Then Eulis appeared, leading his horse.

  At that point, George knew everything he’d planned was going to happen—now. He shifted the butt of the rifle firmly against his shoulder, squinting carefully as he looked down the sight. He couldn’t see Letty’s face, but he knew she was smiling. He could tell by the look on her husband’s face.

  When Eulis started toward her, he held his breath and tightened his grip on the trigger. One pull. That was all it would take, and yet he waited. Not yet. Not yet.

  When the rifle fired, George was almost as surprised as Eulis Potter looked. He saw the blood stain blossoming at the front of the man’s chest. For a few seconds, he was so taken with what he’d done that he didn’t move. But then Eulis didn’t fall, and in a fit of panic, he began to reload the rifle.

  Seconds later, he took aim again, but in his haste, missed the broad shape of Eulis’ chest and hit him in the arm. He reloaded again without conscious thought, and fired without taking aim. The third shot hit Eulis in the leg.

  After Potter fell, George lowered his rifle, and watched.

  Letty Potter was screaming. The pain in her voice was what he’d wanted to hear. For a few moments, he watched, taking great satisfaction in seeing her grief. It was the payback he’d promised himself she would get for whipping him in the street like a dog.

  It wasn’t until he’d seen Alice running out of the house that he’d come out of his trance. Alice’s vehemence in getting Letty to safety fostered the notion of shooting her, too, but then he changed his mind. He’d gotten out of jail once with no punishment. He didn’t relish staying around to test his luck a second time.

  While Alice was dragging Letty up the back steps, he turned and ran. His cold camp was a half mile down the backside of the mountain. He had nothing to his name but what he’d managed to steal after he’d be
en released, so it didn’t take long to pack it all up. There was an old man working a small mine about a quarter a mile further down the mountain. He had a horse. George needed a horse. It would be a simple enough matter to take it.

  TO THE DEATH

  If it hadn’t been for T-Bone, Letty might have ridden right past the place where the killer had staked them out. But when the dog suddenly stopped and began to run in small circles behind a thicket of undergrowth, she dismounted and knelt.

  There was a torn piece of a shirt caught in some thorns. She grabbed it and shoved it in her pocket. The soil behind the trees had been disturbed, where it appeared someone had been standing, as well as a large amount of footprints around the area. From the depth of the tracks behind the trees, it appeared the killer had been watching them for some time.

  She stood abruptly and looked toward the house. The skin crawled on the back of her neck when she realized there was a clear view of the back porch. That’s when she saw Eulis’ body. The killer hadn’t given him a chance.

  “Oh, Eulis.”

  She clutched her belly as a fresh wave of pain threatened to send her to her knees. It was the thought of catching the man responsible for this tragedy that kept her going. She gritted her teeth, rubbed the tears from her eyes, and began scanning the floor of the forest until she finally found his trail. As she looked up at the wall of trees before her, she couldn’t help wondering if he was somewhere nearby, watching her struggling with shock and with grief.

  T-Bone whined.

  She took the piece of shirt from her pocket that she’d found on the bush and held it under T-Bone’s nose.

  “Find him, boy! Find him!”

  T-Bone seemed to sense the urgency in her voice and took off with his nose to ground. What she didn’t know was the pup was following a well-traveled path that he’d taken every day into George Mellin’s camp.

  Letty mounted, following with an eye to the trail. There was no way to tell how long the killer had been gone, but she didn’t want to waste any daylight.

  Within fifteen minutes, she rode into someone’s cold camp, but it was empty. A shelter of sorts had been built from limbs and pine boughs, although no fires had been made. She found a rabbit snare, but no sign of fur or bones. There was also a long indentation in the earth beneath some trees, with pine boughs and leaves as a cushion. She kicked it in anger, sending pine needles and leaves flying. The bastard had slept here. When she found him, she promised herself that his next sleep would be permanent.

  After a thorough search of the area, it didn’t appear he had plans of coming back. When she found a new set of footprints leading farther down the mountain, she went back to her horse, mounted up, and whistled for T-Bone.

  The pup fell into step behind the horse. The density of trees lessened as they descended, and she soon began seeing signs of old, long-abandoned campsites, as well as a few abandoned mine shafts. She knew them as places where men had searched long ago, then given up on their dreams.

  The signs of habitation were a signal to her that she must be close to the base of the mountain. This intensified her eye to the underbrush, making sure she wasn’t riding into an ambush. T-Bone was running ahead of her now with his nose in the air, on the trail of something new.

  When she rode out of a stand of trees into a small clearing and saw an old man lying on the ground beside a small lean-to, she pulled her horse to a halt.

  Grabbing her rifle as she dismounted, she ran to where the old man was lying. There was a spilled bucket of grain near his right leg, and what appeared to be a half-eaten biscuit clutched in his left hand.

  Just for a second, she saw Eulis again, and as she did, her vision blurred. Swallowing back a sob, she felt for his pulse. There was none. Then she saw the crack in the back of his skull and the pool of blood beneath his body. His body was cold to the touch, and when she lifted his hand, it was beginning to feel stiff. The bodies of people who’d just died were still supple. She’d seen enough dead people in her time to know that several hours had passed since this man took his last breath. This meant her killer was, most likely, a good distance ahead.

  Again, she began to look for the killer’s footprints, but it seemed he’d disappeared into thin air. It wasn’t until she began searching the other outbuildings that she realized the old man had owned a horse and it was gone. This changed everything. Now the killer was mounted, as well.

  After a few more minutes of trying to make sense of the tracks coming and going from the house, she found what appeared to be a fresh trail, moving west.

  So he wasn’t going to Denver City. She wasn’t familiar enough with the surrounding area to know what lay west of the burgeoning town except more mountains, but if she kept on going, she was bound to find out.

  For the first time since she’d ridden away from her home, she got scared. What if she lost the trail? A horse was a horse. How could she tell one’s trail from another? How would she ever live with herself again if she let a man get away with Eulis’ murder?

  Determined not to be defeated, she convinced herself that there was surely something she was missing, so she retraced her steps around the old man’s place. It wasn’t until she went back into the stable that she noticed a difference in the tracks. The horse was missing a shoe on the right front hoof.

  She grunted in satisfaction. That was what she’d needed to find. She wouldn’t look back at the old man—there was nothing she could do for him but try and find the person responsible for his death. She mounted up—ignoring the gut-wrenching pain in her chest—refusing to acknowledge that when this journey would be over, Eulis would not be waiting for her at the end.

  “Come on, T-Bone. Let’s go.”

  The dog barked as they disappeared into the trees.

  ***

  Robert Lee could tell by the deterioration of the tracks he’d been following, that he was at least three, maybe four hours behind Letty. As he’d ridden away from the house, he’d taken some comfort from the knowledge that the pup was with her. He would be some protection against animals or humans, but completely useless against a man with a gun.

  He found the stalker’s camp as easily as Letty had, and was somewhat surprised, then impressed, with her ability to track. She’d moved unerringly with the descending footprints on the back side of the mountain.

  Later, when he rode into the old man’s camp and found him dead and a horse obviously missing, he realized the stakes had gone higher. The killer was no longer on foot. But unlike Letty, he immediately caught the fact that the horse was missing a shoe. This would make it much easier to track, although the prints of Letty’s horse were now mixed with those of the killer. All he could do was follow and pray he didn’t get there too late.

  ***

  For hours, George rode with a cocky assurance, unaware he was being followed. He made no effort to hide his tracks, and once stopped for more than an hour to rest and to water the horse at a small creek. At that time, he dug into his stolen food and ate the piece of fried fatback that had been in a skillet on the old man’s stove, as well as some cold johnnycake. Later, as the horse was resting, he felt a pain in his belly and quickly took to the bushes, leaving a calling card of his own without bothering to bury it.

  After raiding the old man’s place, he was now in possession of a horse, food, and a bedroll. When night came, he would be sitting pretty. He still had some cold johnnycake and a couple of pieces of jerky, a large piece of flint for building fires, and a good-sized piece of uncooked fatback wrapped in a piece of thin, greasy cloth. He had a half-sack of dry beans, and about three pounds of cornmeal, as well as a spoon, and a couple of small pots, well-blackened from many outdoor fires. For a man who’d been without anything, he felt a great sense of well-being.

  It wasn’t until he saw how far the sun had moved into the west that he resumed his trek. Although he’d made good time since the shooting, he wanted to be farther away before he made camp for the night. He mounted up, eyed the sky once more, and
kicked the old horse in the flanks.

  Within three hours it was dark and George was sitting beside his campfire. A small pan of beans was simmering at the side of the fire. By morning they would be cooked through and through. He would be able to eat from the pot and then pack it up, saving the cold beans for travel.

  When he’d first made his escape, his intent had been to just keep riding west, but the farther he rode from Denver City, the more convinced he became that the smartest thing for him might be to backtrack and go home to Boston. At least there, he’d had a trade. He’d never liked fishing, or spending every waking hour out on the ocean, but right now, it seemed far more appealing than the past year he’d lived through.

  Later, with a belly full of johnnycake and jerky, he spread his bedroll by the fire, pulled the loaded rifle up close to his chest, and covered himself with the old man’s blankets. They smelled of wood smoke and body sweat, but it was more than he’d had last night. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

  ***

  Darkness came with Letty still in the saddle. The rage that had taken her this far was still burning strong and steady. Every uneven jolt of the horse’s hoof to ground was a pain she welcomed. She needed the pain to match her emotions. It was the balance she needed to stay focused. The luxury of grief would come later, when she watched Eulis’ killer die.

  The later it got, the more she debated with herself about making camp for the night. But when it became apparent that tonight there would be a full moon, she changed her mind. She couldn’t track in the dark, but she was going to take a chance that the killer wouldn’t change direction, and assuming if she kept going, eventually she would smell the smoke from his campfire.

  She rode on, ignoring the aches in her muscles, and the hungry growl from her belly. The thought of putting food in her mouth turned her stomach. She needed to stay focused on the task at hand. Stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant remembering, and remembering meant reliving the shock and the acceptance of death that she’d seen on Eulis’ sweet face.