After looking at David for a moment, John asks, “Know where we can get more water?”
David turns in his saddle, this way, then that. After a moment, he pulls out a map from his saddle bag and consults it. “So, if our information is accurate, then the trail should take us close to my tribe’s encampment, here.” He holds the map up and shows it to John indicating a spot on it about fifty miles away from Ft. Supply.
John nods, confirming that should be correct.
“Unless they’ve dried up, we should hit some creeks about a day and a half ride north-northwest from here. It’s been about ten years since I’ve been here, so I can’t say for sure.”
John takes a deep breath, considering his words carefully. He turns back to Joey and asks, “Well, boss. Whatcha think? Should we follow the trail, or go toward water?”
She sits there a moment, considering. “Do both go in the same direction?” John nods. “Then we’ll worry about which one to follow, later. That is, if they split. I get the feeling that they won’t, though.”
John grins. “I was hoping you were going to say that. So, we have to conserve all the water we can until we can get some more. No more than a mouthful every couple of hours. No more than half a pail full every few hours for each horse.”
His words are met with skeptical expressions from just about everyone, except David. The young doctor just nods his approval.
Johns spreads his hands. “We may need to conserve even more, but I just hope we can find water quickly enough to not have to worry about it. Until then, we have to ration what we have.”
Everyone seems to accept what he’s saying, so he motions the group forward. Since the issue of water has been settled for the moment and there’s someone able to follow the trail, John allows his mind to wander. The struggles of the last week and more have made his thoughts turn dark. Darker than they have been since he accepted the Gift of Grace.
In his prayers each night, John has begged to know why Richard was able to do these things to such a godly couple as the Mallorys. Try though he might, he can’t seem to find a good reason for God to test Sean like He apparently is.
He promised both himself and God he would trust in His will, His plan, His timing, but all of this happening as it has been, is enough to frustrate John in his trust. He’s been reminding himself of that promise and of his decision at least hourly since this struggle started in truth.
He’s so lost in his internal battle for truth and patience, he almost misses noticing the flashes of some type of metal at the bottom of a wash, some distance away. Considering the scrub-trees on either side of the wash, it’s the perfect place for ambush.
Without alerting the entire party, he loosens his revolver in its holster and gives Joey a quick side-glance. His young friend noticed it as well. She looks over at John and nods as he puts a finger to his lips, indicating she shouldn’t alert anyone else to what they see.
He looks back at Josh and sees that the deputy appears to be almost oblivious. After momentarily considering whether to tell him or not, John catches his blood-brother’s attention and points toward the flashing. After a moment, Josh nods and loosens his revolver as well.
As the group approaches the wash from the south, Joey veers off to the west at a full gallop, drawing her revolver. Josh veers to the east, doing the same.
As the two riders take off, John draws his pistol, turns in his saddle and puts finger to his lips, requiring silence, forestalling any possible questions. The four riders ride on, wary of a trap.
Not twenty yards into the wash, ahead and to the west, John hears a shout and a couple of gunshots. Immediately after, to the east, John hears a couple of shouts, then a single shot followed by screams of pain.
The riders stop and wait with baited breath, trying to figure out what to do.
Josh appears at the top of the rise and gives a thumbs up.
John says, “You three ride over to him, I’m gonna go check on Joey.” Without waiting on a response, he rides at a hard gallop to where he heard the gunfire coming from.
As he approaches, he sees Joey standing next to her horse, staring at a body laying on the ground with a spreading pool of blood around the head. Hearing John approach, she turns, gun held at the ready. Her eyes are unfocused, face blank.
John reaches down and pulls back on the reins, having his horse slow to a stop. He holsters his revolver and holds his hands at chest height, showing they are empty.
She still stands there, watching impassively. John dismounts and approaches slowly. She cocks the hammer of her gun, still held at the ready and John stops. He holds his hands up over his head, in a sign of surrender and says in a soothing tone of voice, “Joey, it’s me, John. Joey, listen to me, please just put the gun down. He’s dead, you’re alright.”
She half turns and looks at the body, still keeping her gun held at John.
John takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. He doesn’t make a move or a sound as she turns to look at him again. “Joey, it’s me, your old friend, John. Sweetheart, you need to put the gun down. You don’t wanna shoot ‘ole John, now do ya?”
Slowly, her right arm lowers the gun as her left hand goes to her mouth in a gasp. Her eyes widen and her face drains of blood. “John?” she gasps. She releases the hammer and puts her gun back in the holster then turns to look at the body. “I . . .” She looks at John again. “. . . I didn’t have a choice.”
John approaches the young woman. “Joey, you did what you had to do. No one blames you. You did nothing wrong.” He reaches out and places a comforting hand on her shoulder.
She looks at the body again. “Do you think he might still be alive?”
“It was a killing shot, dear. You put the slug between his eyes. Death was instant. At least he didn’t suffer much. Just bang and gone.”
Her eyes go from the body to Shadow, then she turns to John. “I—I did—I didn’t have a choice, right?”
John points at the gun still in the body’s hand. “He drew down on you. It was kill or be killed. You did nothing wrong. He was laying in ambush, for all of us. Do you hear me? If you hadn’t killed him, he would have killed one or all of us.”
Josh’s voice rings out, “John? Marshal Blackwolf? You alright?”
John calls back, “Yeah, deputy. We’re fine. Give us a minute.”
Joey looks at the body and in a very small voice says, “I was in a posse before. I took a shot and someone died. It could have been someone else’s bullet that did him in, but I always assumed that it was mine. This time, there’s no question. I did THIS! ME!”
John turns her to look at him. He looks her square in the eye. “Listen to me, Joey. You HAD NO CHOICE! He tried to kill you. He was going to kill us all, given the chance. Do you hear me? You did NOTHING wrong!”
She squirms a bit in his grasp. Each of his words hit her like a hammer blow. She looks back at the body, then at John, then back at the body.
John releases the young woman, then goes over to the body to inspect it.
The dead man has a purse full of gold on him and a belt rig with a holster. John checks the man’s vest and pulls out a piece of paper, but decides to look at it later. He checks the rest of the man’s pockets. He doesn’t find anything else of interest, but decides to sit there a moment longer, hoping Joey will be able to snap out of her break a little more. He looks over his shoulder at the young woman and sees her trying to surreptitiously watch John while adjusting the saddle on Shadow.
John turns back toward the body and grins to himself. He’s glad she is with it enough that she’s trying to be subtle at least.
John holds his hand out over the body and says a quiet prayer over it. He figures the man is standing before the Ultimate Judge by now, but even if his prayer doesn’t do anything for the man’s soul, at least John is able to forgive him for making one of the posse kill him.
As he mutters a quiet amen, he stands and looks at Joey. “I know I should have asked you this before, but wer
e you hit? Not bleeding anywhere, are you?”
She pats herself in several different places, then shakes her head. “Nope. No blood.”
John smiles grimly, then nods. “Okay. If you’ve composed yourself enough, I think we need to get back to the group. Josh captured a prisoner. We need to question him.”
Joey takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, then shakes herself all over, much like a wet dog shaking itself dry. After a moment, she looks at John and nods. “Alright, let’s go.” Then steps up and mounts Shadow.
John looks at her for a moment assessing her mood, nods and mounts his horse.
The trip back to rejoin the party only takes a few minutes and is made in silence. John gets the feeling that Joey appreciates his giving her the courtesy of being alone with her own thoughts. Several times during the return, he glances over at her and sees that she’s riding on with a grim expression. As the two riders approach the rest of the party, John sees they’re all dismounted, standing curiously close together.
When the riders get close enough to the rest of their group, they rein in and dismount their horses. As they lead their horses the last few feet, John sees the group is gathered around a man with his hands bound up behind his back and feet tied, on the ground, looking around in a daze.
John looks at Josh pouring his question into his expression.
Josh looks at Joey curiously, then at John and shakes his head. “He hasn’t said anything at all.”
John looks at the man for a moment, picks him up to stand and asks, “What’s your name?”
Then man looks at him blankly.
“Who sent you?” John demands.
The man just blinks.
“Do you understand that if you don’t answer our questions, we will kill you?”
The man’s expression turns to fear as he looks around to those gathered around, then back at John and blinks again.
“Can you understand my words?”
Another blink.
He asks the same question in Cherokee, Kiowa, Arapaho, Cheyenne, Apache and Spanish. After each one, the man still doesn’t say anything. He just stands there and almost randomly blinks.
Finally, John gets tired of asking and looks at David. “Think he’s deaf and dumb?”
David looks at the prisoner, then moves around him to behind his back and whispers, “I’m going to hit you hard enough to knock you out.” He acts like he’s going to punch the man, but the man dodges the punch.
David stands up and shakes his head. “Nope. He’s able to understand our words, he’s just choosing to not answer.”
The man turns his head to look at David with a look of pure hatred on his face.
Smiling, John steps up to the prisoner and casually backhands the man. The blow was hard enough to knock the man to the ground. John looks down at the back of his hand sees the redness start to spread.
Doing that felt way too good. Knowing what kind of man he was before, John gets a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Is he returning to his old ways?
John turns and looks at Joey. The look of revulsion on her face at the unexpected violence makes John feels sympathy for her. First, she without a doubt kills a man and now she’s witnessing violence on a scale no one should have to. He turns to look at Josh. “Deputy, this may be a bit rough for everyone to watch. Would you mind taking everyone out of sight for awhile?”
Josh looks at John, who barely nods toward Joey and nods. “Alright, guys. Show’s over. C’mon over here for a bit.”
Everyone but Sean follows him.
John looks at the young man curiously.
“I t’hink I wanna watch whatcha do ta tha an’mal.” The look in the young man’s eye is pure blood thirst.
John levels a look at his friend for a moment and sees a reflection of the man he once was. He feels sorry for Sean. This is only going to feed his hunger for revenge. He takes a deep breath, slowly releases it, then nods. He looks down at the prisoner still laying on the ground. “So, this is how it’s going to go down. I will ask you a question. If I don’t like your answer, or it’s not appropriate to the question, I will hurt you. Eventually, you’re going to answer the questions, or I will kill you in the most painful way possible. Do you understand?”
The man looks at John and just blinks.
John sighs and, dreading what he’s about to have to do, picks the man up by the hair. As the man is halfway standing, John punches him as hard as he can in the kidney.
The man grunts in pain, but still doesn’t say anything.
John’s more impressed at the man’s stubbornness than he would care to admit. He feels sympathy for the man, knowing what he’s about to go through.
Once John can get the man settled back on his feet, he asks, “What’s your name?”
No answer.
John moves around to stand in front of the man and slams his boot heel down on top of the prisoner’s foot hard enough he can feel the delicate bones in the man’s arch snap like twigs. The man cries out in pain, but gives no other reaction to what’s happening.
John fights the feeling of revulsion at his joy of being able to express this level of violence on another human being. To hide his discomfort, he demands, “Who sent you?”
The man stands straight and just stares ahead.
John sighs, then punches the man in the same kidney as before.
Again, the man cries out but says nothing.
“Do you know who you were attacking?”
Still nothing.
John wonders how the man is able to take this and just stand there. He draws his pistol, points it at the man’s chest and sees the man has no reaction to it. He crosses to behind the prisoner, lifts the man’s hand, then slams the butt of it onto the middle of the man’s right forearm, breaking it in at least one place, most likely shattering the bones completely.
The man’s screams take a full five minutes to die down, even then, he stands there whimpering with tears streaming down his face.
John looks at the horizon, noting the setting sun. He looks at Sean and sees the look of joy in the young man’s fierce gaze. John sighs and holsters his gun, tired of playing this game. Quietly, he says to the man, “I am Deputy U.S. Marshal John Cardwell and I am placing you under arrest for the attempted murder of several lawmen and civilians.”
At hearing John’s name, the man’s face lights up in recognition. Immediately, he clamps his mouth shut and several light moans emanate from behind his closed lips.
At hearing a sound behind him, John turns to see the rest of the party approaching. As they approach, Josh demands, “Just what in the devil are you doing to him?”
John’s eyes narrow. “Trying to force him to talk. Still no luck. Think we should try later.”
He hears a shuffling sound and a grunt come from behind him. Without thinking about it, John pulls his pistol and turns. He sees the prisoner approaching with a knife in his upraised left hand, close enough to attack.
Out of instinct, John shoots the man directly in the heart. The prisoner falls to the ground, laying there in a spreading pool of blood. John leans down and hears the man making a sound like a chuckle.
Voice thick and heavy, the dying man says, “Richard sends his best.” With a shudder, the man’s body relaxes back to the ground, lifeless.
John recoils in revulsion. He stands up and looks first at Sean, who is getting up from the ground, brushing himself off. Then at Joey, whose expression is pure horror. Then he looks at Josh. His blood-brother’s expression would best be described as incredulous. David and Rebekah’s expressions are identical. Disgust.
He turns back to Sean and asks curiously, “What happened?”
Sean looks at him with a dazed expression and shakes his head. “One secon’ yer turnin, tha next, ya done shod’em.” He thumps the side of his head with the heel of his palm. “Beyon’ t’hat, I cannae say.”
David turns and leaves, returning shortly, leading an unfamiliar horse. As he gets close eno
ugh his words can be heard, he says, “They have horses picketed in the next wash over. There’s barrels of water that the horses are drinking from, so I think they should be okay for us to drink from.”
Hearing that relaxes a knot in John’s chest.
Chapter 30
Jake adjusts the saddle strap for Ranger. He’s glad for the chance to do something with his hands while his mind wanders about the heavens.
He’d been expecting John to question the man, but was shocked when he arrived back at the scene to discover their recalcitrant prisoner with several spreading bruises and what seems to be numerous bones broken.
When John calmly shot the man down, Jake almost hit his blood-brother, then he saw the knife in the man’s hand. He’s still not sure he believes John’s having accepted the Gift of Grace, but there’s definitely something different about the man’s bearing that is now somewhat, unsettling.
Before their reunion, he was always able to guess how his brother would react, before it happened. Now? Who knows? There seems to be an unknown factor at work here. It’s like introducing an element of Christianity to his brother’s personality makes him chaotic. If someone were to ask before, he would just say John would do what he thought was required without thought or reservation, even if it meant an obscene level of violence. Now, he seems more thoughtful, more deliberate. If he commits to an act of violence, it feels like the man is not acting out of instinct, but has made a specific decision to do exactly what he does. His acts of violence seem to be much more . . . obscene.
Jake watches as John searches the dead man’s pockets for any identification, anything of interest.
Jake’s never been one to shirk looking for information, but the way John is riffling through the man’s clothes makes Jake feel dirty. Finally, unable to stand it anymore, he says in a gruff tone, “Have some respect for the dead already, man.”
John pulls something out of the man’s pocket, looks up and shakes his head. “That’s what happens every time you deal with anything to do with Richard. Every act is defiling you. Every single time, I’ve had any dealings with him, it’s left me wanting to scrub all of my skin off. Trust me, it’s not just you.” He looks down at what he’s holding in his hand.
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