The Burden of Souls (Hawker's Drift Book 1)

by Andy Monk

  And with sentences they didn’t finish.

  “I don’t know,” the Doctor said bluntly, “it is the trauma to the head that concerns me most; she could be remaining unconscious because of the shock of what has happened to her, it could be because her brain has been injured. Her heart is strong, there is no blood in her lungs, she is breathing normally. All we can do is wait for her to recover I’m afraid.”

  “And pray,” Preacher Stone mumbled. He was sitting next to Kate, staring at his entwined fingers.

  “Of course,” Dr Rudi smiled thinly again.

  Kate and Ruthie looked terrible, pallid faced and bleary eyed, Ash doubted he looked much better. Preacher Stone, however, looked worse.

  He appeared, somehow, to have lost weight. He’d always looked marginally skeletal, now he seemed to be little more than paper skin stretched tightly over the bone. His eyes were restless and bloodshot; his remaining hair was grey lifeless straw while his bony hands shook slightly whenever they were not writhing together. It was his tongue that kept drawing Ash’s eye, however, when the preacher spoke, or occasionally when it flicked out to lick his dry cracked lips, it appeared to be bloated and discoloured, like a dead fish left in the sun to rot and blacken.

  Normally he might have enquired about the man’s health, but thoughts of Emily and what had been done to her filled his mind, pushing out all other concerns, leaving only room for despair and anger.

  “Well, if there is nothing more…” Dr Rudi announced edging towards the door “…I will call again in the morning.”

  Kate rose to show him out while Ash managed a nod. It didn’t seem the Doctor had actually been able to do anything for Emily; he could witter on about the injuries being superficial as much as he liked, the bruises on her face and body didn’t look superficial to Ash.

  Once the Doctor had left, Ash turned his gaze on Sheriff Shenan, “Have you anything more helpful to say?”

  The Sheriff came over to stand by Ash, his voice lowered so only he could hear, “We’ll find the bastard, trust me.”

  “You’d better find him before I do.”

  Shenan ran a hand over his remaining hair, “Don’t do anything rash.”

  “Rash?” He snorted, “I’d just like to be able to do something… anything.”

  Kate and Ruthie were standing up, followed, laboriously, by Preacher Stone, “We’re going to pray,” Kate said quietly, “with Emily.”

  Ash gave his wife a curt nod, but didn’t say anything as he watched Kate usher Ruthie upstairs, the Preacher followed, swaying slightly in their wake.

  “Is he drunk?” Ash asked.

  “Couldn’t smell anything… well not liquor anyhow.”

  Ash raised an eyebrow.

  “Just this sweet, syrupy smell… I don’t think he’s drunk.”

  It didn’t really matter if he was drunk anyhow; it wouldn’t make his prayers any more or less effective. Ash suspected God wasn’t paying the slightest attention.

  “I’d best be getting back to work…” the Sheriff said after a pause and edging towards the door.

  “This has happened before hasn’t it?” Ash asked suddenly, stopping the Sheriff in his tracks.

  “What has happened before?”

  “With girls, in this town?”

  “Pretty girls… things can happen anywhere. You know how some men are?”

  Ash nodded. He knew how men were; men talked, shit even he talked, about what they’d like to do to this woman or that woman, but there was a whole long road between the crap men shot at each other over a beer and what had happened to Emily. So sure, he knew how men were. Just not the kind of man who’d raped his daughter.

  “Still… this is a quiet town mostly. No trouble. But kids… stuff happens. Sometimes they just plain disappear, like Holly Schubert did and Clara Pierre and…”

  Shenan shuffled from one foot to the other, he looked like a man who wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, “Things happen, no rhyme or reason Ash.”

  “Yeah, things happen, but nobody really sees them, do they?” He jerked his head towards the window, “everyone yapping away about Emily out there, but in a few days no one will be talking. Everything will be forgotten.”

  “Everything will be forgotten,” Shenan put a hand on his arm, “…after we hang the bastard that did this.”

  Ash shrugged off the Sheriff’s hand, “Until the next girl…”

  “What the fuck are you suggesting Ash?”

  What was he suggesting? He wasn’t entirely sure, but a lot of strange shit had gone down in this town since he’d come here and met Kate. Not often enough to panic people, but more often than it should. Ash had visited some rough towns before washing up in Hawker’s Drift, towns where guys got killed in bar fights, towns where whores got beaten and raped, towns where horses got stolen and shops got robbed. Bad shit, but normal bad shit. The kind of stuff that hardly ever happened here.

  No, in Hawker’s Drift it was young people, girls mostly, disappearing. Every now and then… and nobody ever talked about it.

  The Sheriff knew it too; Ash could see it in his eyes. He’d been in Hawker’s Drift a lot longer than Ash had, all his life as far as he knew. And Shenan wasn’t stupid either.

  “I’m not suggesting anything,” Ash said finally, “just saying what I’ve seen.”

  “This kind of shit happens all over, believe me. Hawker’s Drift hasn’t got any kinda monopoly on assholes and perverts. We’ll get the guy… and that’ll be the end of it,” the Sheriff put his hat back on before giving Ash a final nod, “if Emily comes round let us know, we’ll need to talk to her as soon as possible. One of my men will be outside for the time being.”

  “When,” Ash said quietly.

  “Sorry?”

  “When Emily comes round.”

  “Of course… that’s what I meant.” The Sheriff gave another awkward little nod before letting himself out.

  Ash watched him walk off down the street, the little knot of neighbours outside falling silent as he went by.

  Probably wondering why the Sheriff hasn’t arrested me yet.

  Ash snapped the curtains together. There were hours of daylight left, but he had no desire to see either sunshine or neighbours. The shadows were softer and more comforting.

  He stared across the empty room, nothing out of place, nothing missing, save the daylight, everything as it should be. Save for some monster sneaking in and half killing his beautiful little girl.

  He wanted to break something. Anything. He clutched his hands tightly together and brought them to his mouth. He must control himself. He mustn’t lash out. He mustn’t be stupid. Kate and Ruthie needed him. Emily would need him. He was the man. He was supposed to know what to do, be in control, look after and protect his girls.

  Something he’d failed miserably to do.

  Stupid fucking card game. Bunch of drunken fools bragging and talking shit. He didn’t even really enjoy it, not anymore anyway. It was just part of his routine. Something he did. Like clockwork.

  As anyone who knew him would know.

  He gently bit his fingers. Was it someone he knew? How would a stranger know he wouldn’t be home that night? If he had been he was damn sure he would have heard something. He was much easier to raise than the dead.

  How many people knew he wouldn’t be home that night? Dozens he guessed, probably more. It was hardly some big secret after all. He looked out on to the street again, at the little knots of gossips, well-wishers, gawpers, do-gooders and do-nothings. Was he out there? The bastard who had hurt his girl. Was he out there tutting and head-shaking with the others and all the while laughing inside?

  He fought down the urge to go and start questioning them.

  Instead, he walked slowly upstairs to Emily’s room. He knew his place was by her side, but it was the last place on Earth he wanted to be. It made him feel small and selfish, but he didn’t want to see his little girl bruised and broken.

  He didn’t want to see wh
at had been done to her, knowing there was nothing he could ever do to make it right. Even if he could get the bastard who’d hurt her alone in a room, even if he could break every bone in his worthless goddamn body, it would never be enough to give Emily back what she had lost. It wouldn’t even be enough to make him feel like a father again.

  Ash stood in the doorway, Kate was sitting by Emily’s bed holding their daughter’s hand, Preacher Stone behind her, bible still clutched in one hand, the other resting lightly upon his wife’s shoulder. Ruthie must have gone to her room; or rather Kate had sent her there.

  Emily was as he’d seen her last, eyes closed, breathing slowly, peacefully even, you might think if it wasn’t for her swollen lips and black eyes. He’d seen the welts on her body briefly; he never wanted to see them again.

  Kate briefly glanced in his direction; she seemed to look through him rather than at him, before returning her gaze to Emily.

  Ash moved next to the preacher, who smelt of stale sweat and something sickly sweet and unfamiliar that made Ash think of refuse rotting quietly in the swelter of a summer’s day.

  “Who would do such a thing?” Ash muttered to no one in particular, it was a question he’d been asking ever since he’d come home to find his distraught wife and Dr Rudi tending Emily. Sometimes the question was just ricocheting around his head, other times he spoke it aloud. Sometimes he didn’t know which it had been.

  The Preacher turned his cloudy distant eyes on him, so Ash was pretty sure that this time he must have spoken aloud.

  “A beast…” Preacher Stone said simply.

  “Yes…” Ash replied, for want of anything else to say.

  “A beast that takes the form of a man, a beast that walks upright and talks and dresses itself in the clothes of a man – but a beast nevertheless.”

  There was a certainty in the old man’s voice, like he knew exactly who had done this, though Ash recognised it well enough as a preacher’s rhetoric, he asked all the same.

  “Do you know who did this?”

  Preacher Stone fell silent, his eyes fixed upon Emily until he finally offered a reply that was so quiet that Ash barely heard it despite standing next to the man.

  “Only the beast and God know who did this… and God is not talking to me.”

  Ash bit down on his irritation, the last thing he wanted was vague twaddle that was neither a comfort nor a help. He guessed the old man was just trying to help, but the preacher seemed so distant and, almost, tormented, that he couldn’t be entirely sure what he was trying to do.

  “Emily!” Kate cried, suddenly leaning forward. At first Ash thought his wife was just trying to wake their daughter again, but his breath caught in his throat as her bruised eyes flickered open.

  “Mom…” Emily whispered, her voice little more than a strained whimper.

  Ash rushed to the opposite side of her bed and gently swept the hair away from his daughter’s face. He should comfort her; tell her everything was alright, that she was safe, that he was here to protect her now, and that nobody was ever going to hurt her again. He should tell her he loved her. He knew that was what he should say; instead he said something else.

  “Emily sweetheart… who hurt you?”

  “Ash…” Kate hissed “…later!”

  He stared at his wife. Later? Why later? Give the bastard who’d done this more time to get away. He didn’t think so. Ignoring his wife he pressed on.

  “I’m sorry honey, but do you remember what happened to you?”

  Emily swallowed and gave a rasping little cough before nodding faintly. Ash saw the tears welling in her eyes and his heart broke all over again.

  “Who was it sweetheart? Who did this?”

  She turned her head and looked up at him as she spoke he distantly heard the preacher give out a strangled little cry and he noticed that there was something wrong with Emily’s tongue as it flitted out to lick her lips before she spoke.

  It was black.

  But Ash let those things fall away, because Emily gave him a name. The name of the man he was going to kill…

  The Gunslinger

  “I thought you might have run out on me?”

  “I thought you’d agreed to keep your head down?”

  “I am…” Molly replied earnestly, “…I haven’t insulted anyone today.”

  They were at a corner table in Jack’s, a spot that was about as discreet as the saloon could offer without renting a room. He’d found Molly sitting alone at the table, he wasn’t sure if she’d plonked herself down there to wait for him or she’d just decided to get drunk. Whichever it had been, she’d managed to achieve both.

  “Turned over a new leaf?”

  Molly stuck out her tongue.

  It was a gesture that made her look like a little girl. Amos let his eyes drop to the beer he was cradling. Megan had used to do that too.

  “You find anything?” Molly asked after a moment’s silence, she was lounging casually in her chair, one arm hooked over the back while she twisted curls of red hair around her fingers. Amos, on the other hand, was sitting up ruler straight and trying not to catch her eye. He suspected she was being flirtatious; drink seemed to have that effect on her. Surprising really…

  “That damn grass gets everywhere when you sleep on it.”

  “I can imagine…” More hair twisting.

  Definitely flirtatious.

  “Three days of nothing much; I rode around the perimeter of the Mayor’s ranch, checked out the surrounding farms in every direction.”

  “And?”

  “The Mayor has a very big ranch.”

  “Worth sleeping on the ground for that?”

  Amos shrugged, “You never know what you might find.”

  He’d found precisely nothing, or at least nothing that meant much. He’d stayed beyond the barbed wire that stretched around the perimeter, it would have been easy enough to get through the fence on foot, it was just a couple of strings of wire running from post to post; fine for keeping cattle in, but not a sufficient obstacle to deter a snooper, but he’d chosen to remain outside this time.

  The buildings had only really been visible close to the road; disappearing from view as he’d followed the fence around. They’d been nothing else to see but grass, cows and a couple of distant water pumps.

  It had taken him the best part of two days to circle the ranch and he hadn’t seen another living soul.

  The second night he’d settled on a spot close enough to see the ranch buildings, but far enough away from the road not to have been visible as he sat in the grass while his unsaddled horse might have been mistaken for one of the ranch’s out grazing. As far as he could tell nobody had seen him.

  He’d sat quietly, watched the sunlight fade and the colour bleed from the day till the only light to be seen was from the stars, cold tiny diamonds sown across a black velvet sky and from the ranch itself.

  There had been a lot of light from the ranch.

  The Mayor must burn a ton of lantern oil, at times so much light seemed to be spilling out of the ranch it momentarily appeared to reach up towards the stars themselves in a pale translucent column, before fading away to darkness. The buildings didn’t appear any brighter than one would expect, the light seemed to be coming from beyond the structures he could see, a courtyard or another building masked from view.

  No sounds carried from the ranch other than the occasional bellow of a cow. The light was eerie, faint but quite discernible, sometimes it seemed to twist about itself, although he wasn’t sure whether or not that was just his imagination as it never lasted for long and could disappear altogether for hours at a time.

  Part of him was tempted to sneak under the wire and find out exactly where that light was coming from. Instead, he’d sat and hugged his knees uneasily. He could feel a sense of foreboding rolling out from the ranch, as faint and ephemeral as the column of light, but equally wrong.

  There was something on that ranch best left alone.

  He�
�d slept little that night and had left as the first hint of dawn turned the eastern horizon from black to dark blue. He had no idea what it meant and whether or not it had anything to do with Tom’s death, but he didn’t intend to say anything about it to Molly. She probably thought him strange enough as it was. He’d spent another night on the grass after searching further east, but had found nothing.

  His eyes slid past Molly as he noticed Cece picking her way across the saloon.

  Talking of strange.

  Was it just a coincidence that she’d turned up outside the Mayor’s ranch? And just what had he seen when they’d touched? He needed to speak to her again. Or get as far away from her as possible. He hadn’t decided which yet.

  “Amos!” Cece called and waved, a bright smile lighting her face. He nodded in return before turning back to find Molly peering at him.

  “New friend?” She asked, perhaps a touch frostily.

  “Not particularly.”

  Molly sipped her whiskey, held the glass to her lips for a second then tipped the rest back in one shot, “She’s got a great set of lungs…”

  “She was out by the Mayor’s ranch.”

  “That must have been a surprise.”

  “The Mayor’s been keeping an eye on her too. You have anything in common?”

  Molly frowned and stared at Cece before her green eyes flicked back towards Amos, “Most of the men in here want to sleep with both of us?”

  “I doubt that’s it.”

  Molly smiled, “Except for you of course.”

  Amos shifted in his seat.

  “Unless you’ve changed your mind?” Molly played with her hair some more. Amos squirmed some more.

  “Molly…”

  “I think I have another suitor, by the way.”

  “Suitor?”

  “Mr Furnedge.”

  “The lawyer?”

  “Uh-huh. His wife died.”

  “So?”

  “He’s expecting to inherit some money, it was all hers apparently.”

  “And he’s willing to pay off your debts?”