Ralph Compton Face of a Snake

by Bernard Schaffer

  Sinclair’s horse snorted and stomped, but he snapped its reins and shouted, “Come on!” The stallion took off running at the trees but managed to sidestep a wide oak just in time. As it did, a naked woman leapt out from behind the oak and latched onto Sinclair’s leg. He yanked his leg free and kicked her in the center of the chest with his boot.

  The stallion kept running, but Sinclair managed to turn his head in time to see one of the fiends latch onto Escalante. Another leapt on the back of Escalante’s horse to try to unseat him. He snapped the reins and kicked his horse to get it to run, but it only stamped its hooves and refused. Escalante smashed the butt of his shotgun into the jaw of the attacker behind him and tried to kick his leg free of the other one. The man would not let go. Escalante cursed and leveled his shotgun at the man’s head and fired.

  The gunshot boomed throughout the woods and sent flocks of birds fleeing into the sky. The rest of the fiends shrieked and leapt for Escalante and tried to take the shotgun. Escalante yanked it away and beat one of them in the forehead with the wooden stock. Then he spun the shotgun and smashed the double barrels into another’s jaw.

  Sinclair tried to turn the stallion around, but it bucked in place and tried to throw him. As he clung to the saddle horn, he saw Henry Odell ride up alongside Escalante and club one of the attackers with the stump of his right arm. When that didn’t work, he made a fist with his left hand and beat the lunatic about the head and shoulders. Instead of being deterred, the lunatic spun and snatched Odell’s arm with both his hands and bit down on his forearm so hard that Odell screamed. He flailed the man with his stump, but it was no use.

  Escalante spun in his saddle and jammed the barrel of his shotgun into the biting bastard’s chest. He pulled the trigger, but instead of a loud boom, nothing but tiny traces of smoke came out of the end of the barrel.

  The naked man still had his teeth sunk into Odell’s arm when the shotgun misfired. He looked upward at Escalante with blood dripping from his mouth and clumped in his beard and he grinned.

  Something clicked inside the shotgun and it suddenly emitted an eruption of flame and black smoke. The grinning man’s bloody teeth were still bared even as his jaw went slack around Odell’s arm and he fell backward into the grass. The delayed gunshot left his midsection a gaping red hole.

  Escalante’s and Odell’s horses caught scent of all the blood and panicked. It was all they could do to hold on as the horses ran blindly into the woods, barely dodging the trees in their way. One of the naked madmen jumped out in front of Odell’s horse and the horse ran him over, trampling his naked body with her weight and her hooves and leaving him writhing on the ground.

  The horses galloped past Sinclair in a blur. The rest of the naked maniacs came running too, with their arms raised and their teeth bared. Sinclair’s stallion had stopped bucking but was standing frozen in place. Sinclair kicked it in the side and shouted at it and cursed at it and finally it spun around and ran in the same direction as the other horses. When Sinclair looked back, the lunatics were gone.

  * * *

  * * *

  Once they’d gotten the horses to settle, they slowed but did not stop. Sinclair rode up next to Odell and said, “Let me see that arm.”

  Odell had wrapped it in a cloth and when he pulled it away from his arm, the fabric stuck to the wound. The flesh on his forearm was punctured by two sets of teeth marks.

  “Looks nasty,” Sinclair said. “Be a hell of a thing if we had to remove that one too, wouldn’t it?”

  “Very funny,” Odell said.

  Sinclair reached into his saddlebag for a bottle of whiskey and uncorked it. He took a swig, then held the bottle out for Odell and said, “Here. This will help with the pain.”

  “I told you, I don’t drink anymore. Anyway, it doesn’t hurt that—”

  Sinclair snatched Odell’s arm and doused the wound in whiskey.

  Odell cried out and struggled to get free, but Sinclair held fast and kept pouring. A mixture of blood and whiskey spilled over both of them until Sinclair let go and said, “You should be fine now. Put something over it.”

  “I had something over it, you imbecile!”

  “Well, use something else now,” Sinclair said. He rode up to Escalante. His old partner was white in the face and had not spoken since they got away. “You all right?”

  “What were they?” Escalante asked. “Cannibals, you think?”

  “Who knows?” Sinclair said. “Just wild folk of the woods is all, I suppose.”

  “Of all the crazy things I’ve done in my life, all the different ways I thought I could have been killed, getting eaten by a bunch of naked lunatics in the woods was never one of them.”

  “I’d much rather be fighting Pinkertons than them—that’s for sure,” Sinclair said. He turned around in his saddle. “Did you know about these goddamn cannibals sitting here, waiting for us? That’d be typical of you, Henry. Knowing about a bunch of naked, flesh-eating lunatics and not warning us in advance.”

  “No, goddamn it! I’ve been through these woods before and never had any trouble.” Odell was sheet white and kept looking over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed. “They were just supposed to be stories.”

  “What stories?” Sinclair demanded.

  “Bogeyman stories! Nonsense you tell children to scare them into minding their elders or what you tell your sweethearts around the campfire to make them slide in real close against you. Foolish talk, that’s all it was supposed to be. I’d have never brought you both this way if I thought any of it was real. I swear on God.”

  Sinclair shook his fist and said, “Henry, you can either spit out what you heard or you can spit out your front teeth. Your choice.”

  Odell was too busy watching the woods behind them to worry about the threat. “Folks call them the Children of the Forest. Some claim they’re spirits sent here to protect the woods. Others say they’re the descendants of a mad preacher out in a town called Crowsfall. They got wiped out and their children supposedly fled into the forest and have lived out here like animals ever since. I swear to you both, I thought they weren’t real.”

  When Escalante heard the word “Crowsfall,” he made a small noise in his throat and his eyes widened.

  Sinclair squinted at Odell, waiting to see if he’d say any more. “That’s all you know?”

  “That’s all I know,” Odell said.

  “Keep the cloth on that wound,” Sinclair said. He turned back and saw that Escalante was staring at him in horror. “Quit it,” Sinclair muttered. “It wasn’t them. That’s not possible. Just forget it.”

  As they rode, Sinclair clapped Escalante on the shoulder and said, “Anyway, you did good with that scattergun back there. Shame we are out of shells now.”

  Escalante pulled out his canteen and took a long drink of water. He wiped his mouth and grimaced. He swallowed dryly and looked like he might be sick. He coughed into his hand, and his eyes turned red and he looked away. “It’s been a long time since I killed anyone, jefe.”

  “I know it has, old friend,” Sinclair said. “I know.”

  * * *

  * * *

  They emerged from the woods down a steep slope of green grass and bright-colored flowers. The grass was tall and swayed in front of them. It formed hills that rolled like waves in either direction. To the west, there was a stretch of mountains with rounded peaks that glowed from the sun descending behind them.

  “Any clue where we are?” Sinclair asked.

  “Not a one,” Odell said.

  “There’s just an hour or so of daylight left. I’m not inclined to go back into the woods and try to find our way, especially once it gets dark,” Escalante said. He patted his horse on the neck. “We’ll need to water these horses soon, though.”

  “I don’t see any streams,” Odell said.

  “This lo
oks like good pastureland,” Sinclair said. “Has to be a farm or a ranch around here somewhere. Let’s find it and see if we can’t impose ourselves on the owner for some water and whatever other supplies he has available.”

  Odell eyed Sinclair. “We can ask. But we will not be hurting anyone else. Just so you understand.”

  “That’s not what I said. Did I say that?” Sinclair asked Escalante.

  “No. But I know why Hank made that clear.”

  “You men have a misperception of me,” Sinclair said. “It’s unwarranted.”

  It was nightfall by the time they came to their first road. It ran east and west and the eastern portion looked like it headed back toward more woods. They went west.

  They found a length of old broken fence in what looked like soft, flat land. Sinclair squinted and said, “There’s a light way back in the distance.”

  “My eyes aren’t good enough to see that far anymore,” Odell said.

  Escalante leaned forward in his saddle. “I think I can make out a house. Let’s go see.”

  “Take it slow, gentlemen,” Odell said. “Three strangers creeping up unannounced on a home in the middle of nowhere is bound to cause some alarm.”

  “Henry, you wave to them as we ride up,” Sinclair said. “Let them see we’re unarmed.”

  They stayed outside of the edge of the property until they found the rest of the fence line. It was rotted and missing lengths of wood in more places than it had it. There was a high wooden archway over the main entrance with a weathered sign that read wolfe ranch. The three of them rode under the sign and made their way toward the house.

  The smell of charred wood and smoke lingered in the air. It smelled like burned hickory and straw. The house at the end of the trail was of a good size, but all the windows were dark, and it was not yet eight o’clock. The light they had seen from the road came from a lantern that swung from a hook on the porch’s ceiling. Beneath it, they could see a man sitting in a rocking chair. He rocked back and forth but did not stir or call out to them as they approached.

  Along the right side of the trail stood the remains of a large barn. Fire had reduced it to nothing more than cinders and large blackened beams set inside a mountain of ash. Around the barn had been a fenced-in pasture, but there were no animals to be seen.

  They rode close enough to the porch to get a better look at the man in the rocking chair. There was a white bandage wrapped around his head and his eyes were closed in sleep. He cradled a bottle in his lap with both hands.

  “Sir?” Henry Odell called out. “Pardon me, sir. Are you Mr. Wolfe?”

  Wolfe cocked one eye open at them. “I am. Who’re you?”

  “Just some weary travelers, sir,” Odell said. “We came through the woods and got ourselves rather lost, I’m afraid. Our horses need water. Can you direct us toward some?”

  Wolfe smacked his lips together, then squeezed his eyes shut and opened them wide again. He looked the three of them over. “You was in the woods?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Trough’s around the side of the house. Welcome to it. Slurp it all up. No horses here no more.”

  “What happened to your barn?” Sinclair asked.

  Wolfe raised the bottle and chugged from it until the liquor inside bubbled. He swayed in his chair when he set the bottle back in his lap and raised a finger toward his barn. “Feller told me he wanted to buy my property. I told the feller hell no. Not for sale. He came back again and said I’s going to sell one way or the other.”

  Sinclair and Odell looked at each other. “Was this Nelson Granger by any chance?” Odell asked.

  “No, no, no,” Wolfe said. “His name was Nelson Something. Nelson Granger.” Wolfe’s eyes closed again.

  “We’re looking for Granger’s ranch. How far away is it?” Sinclair said.

  Wolfe’s eyes narrowed. “You associate with him?”

  “No, sir,” Sinclair said and he spit over the side of his saddle. “It ain’t a social call.”

  “Granger’s ranch is at least two days’ ride or more,” Wolfe said. He pointed east. “That way.”

  Sinclair thanked him and went to turn his horse toward the trough, but Odell stayed put. He called out, “Did Granger burn down your barn when you wouldn’t sell, Mr. Wolfe?”

  “Son of a bitch came here with a small army. Twenty men plus him and them two other fellers. The big ones. They rode up right where you are in the dead of night and said either I sell or they was gonna kill all my cattle and burn down my house and my barn. I grabbed my shotgun and said get off my property. I commence to coming down the steps here to chase ’em off and one of them giants cracked me upside the head.”

  Odell frowned. “Did you say ‘giant’?”

  “Yeah. Granger’s got two of ’em. Look just like one another. You ever seen a giant before?”

  “If you have any left of whatever you were drinking that night, I’d like to try some,” Sinclair said. “Maybe I’ll see giants too.”

  “I did see! They were so big, they couldn’t ride no horse. They had special carriages they stood on that had to be pulled by a team of mules.”

  “All right, we believe you,” Odell said. “There were giants. Was it the giants that burned down your barn after one of them hit you?”

  “No,” Wolfe said. He touched the side of his head and winced in pain. “I sat up and everything was spinning.”

  “I bet it was,” Sinclair muttered.

  “That’s when one of Granger’s men brought my sweet Daisy in from the pasture.” Wolfe’s eyes grew watery and his voice cinched up in this throat. “I watched them do it. They walked her up and all she was doing was looking at me with them big brown eyes full of nothing but trust and love. ‘Is this your prize cow?’ that Granger asked me. I told him it was and please leave her be. ‘She’s a beauty,’ he said. Then one of them giants seized Daisy by the head with his bare hands. He beared down and started to squeeze real hard and I could see his face turn red and he was squeezing until his whole body shook. Daisy let out this horrible scream and kicked and thrashed, but he wouldn’t let go. He just—he just wouldn’t let go of her.”

  Wolfe wiped his eyes and took another drink. “I heard her skull crack. Loudest sound you ever heard. Granger’s men all cheered. The giant let go of Daisy and she fell dead on the ground. Her head was caved in. Blood was coming out of her nose and mouth. The poor thing died in terrible pain and all I could do was just sit there and watch.”

  “That’s despicable,” Odell said.

  “Granger said if I didn’t sell they were going to go in the house and bring my wife and children out next. So I sold.”

  “You sold and they burned your barn down anyway?” Escalante asked.

  “They took all the cattle and horses and burned the barn. Granger said that because he’s a gentleman, he’d give me a few extra days to get my affairs in order. He said I better be gone soon, though, because if he comes back this way and I’m still here, he’ll burn the house down with me and my family still in it.”

  “Where are your wife and children now?” Odell asked.

  “I sent them away for safety. I just wanted one more night here,” Wolfe said.

  “My God,” Odell whispered.

  Sinclair smirked. “So where’s old Daisy the prize cow now?”

  “What?” Wolfe asked.

  “You said she got her head cracked. Where did that happen?”

  “Like I said, they were right about where you were.”

  Sinclair tried to see if there was any blood on the grass. It was too dark to tell. “And what did you do with her after they left? Big old cow had to be, what, seventeen hundred pounds or more? That’s a lot of beef to haul. Where’d you take her?”

  Wolfe looked confused. His head turned right and left as he searched the valley behind him. “I—I d
ragged her with my horse over to that pasture yonder and buried her. Right there. No, wait. It was over there. You casting doubts on my story, sir? You want to go inspect the burial mound and have me dig her up for you, you smug son of a bitch?”

  “No, sir. I was just wondering how you accomplished such a thing, that’s all,” Sinclair said. “One more thing. You wouldn’t be interested in selling that shotgun you told us about by any chance, would you?”

  “Those men took it,” Wolfe said.

  “How about shells for it. Got any of those we can purchase?”

  “No. They were all loaded in the gun. Wish I’d had a chance to fire it that night, by God,” Wolfe said.

  As the others maneuvered around the side of the house toward the trough, Odell said, “Thank you for letting us water our horses, Mr. Wolfe. I truly am sorry for what happened to you.”

  Wolfe grunted and went back to his drink.

  They went around the side of the house and dismounted to let their horses drink. “How big does a man have to be to crack a cow’s skull like that?” Escalante whispered.

  Sinclair let out a laugh and said, “Lorenzo, don’t tell me you believe one word of that old coot’s hogwash. That fool was so drunk, he probably saw unicorns and dragons that night too.”

  Odell disagreed. “I’ve heard tell of circus freaks tall enough, they stood eye to eye with the elephants. And they were strong enough to bend steel with their bare hands.”

  “You’re right,” Escalante said. “I’ve read about such men in the papers. Perhaps Granger found two of them.”

  “Or perhaps you’re both idiots listening to the ramblings of a fool who just lost everything he had in this world. Perhaps he’s telling us a story to make himself feel better about not standing up for himself and you’re sitting there listening to it like some scared little schoolgirl,” Sinclair said.

  Sinclair waited until his horse raised its head from the trough and had finished drinking. Then he hoisted himself into the saddle and headed back toward the road.