Mercy

by Richard Turner

No one except for Moses and Maclean slept during the long, cold night. Fear and unease gripped everyone else as they stared out at the mist-filled trees. Each noise in the woods was met by nervous hands reaching for their weapons. A fox looking for a bite ambled toward the fire just before dawn and was shot by Thomas, who didn't stop firing his pistol until he ran out of bullets.

  Cooper stood, and stretched his hands over his head. He looked over at the pastor and said, "Let's get some food cooking before we step off today."

  "You know I can do more than cook, Captain," replied Melancon.

  "Pastor, let's hope we don't need you to fire your shotgun or give any more prayers for the dead before we get back home."

  Hawkins walked out of the fog. "Sir, I've checked the perimeter. No one got in or out last night."

  "Thanks. After breakfast, I'd like you to organize a search party to look for any sign of Solomon and the other missing men."

  "I already have, sir. Thomas, myself and two of his men will head out as soon as we can see more than ten feet in front of our faces."

  Cooper smiled. "I should have known you'd be one step ahead of me."

  "One step, sir?"

  Stone said, "Captain Cooper, sorry to interrupt but it looks like Maclean is waking up."

  Cooper walked to his prisoner's side and got down on his haunches. "Maclean, I need you to truthfully answer a couple of questions."

  "Now why would I do that?" groused the murderer.

  "Because if you don't, I'll tell Thomas to leave you behind. With that festering wound of yours, how far do figure you could crawl before a gator decided to drag you into the swamp to eat?"

  Maclean spat on the ground. "What do you want to know?"

  "When we attacked your camp, were all of your men there with you?"

  "Yes."

  "I mean what I said, Maclean, I want the truth, or I'll leave out here to die."

  "Do you think I don't know my own men, Captain? Aside from Moses and me, they're all dead. You and your people shot them all."

  Cooper looked into his enemy's bloodshot eyes. "I lost five men yesterday. I need to know who else is out here."

  Maclean chuckled. "Looks like God ain't on your side this time, Yankee. I'd like to take credit for the deaths of yer men, but I already told you it ain't none of my people doing the killing."

  "Okay, I believe you. It's not your men. So who else lives out here who could be killing my men?"

  Maclean shrugged. "I have no idea. I never once came across anyone poking around our camp. Sure there's the odd trapper out here in the bayou, but I never once had trouble with any of them."

  "It's the swamp devil that's preying on you and your sinful men," said Moses. He smiled as if he knew a secret no one else did. "I heard the coloreds talking last night. They're scared . . . real scared. They say the beast of the swamp is out here in the bayou waiting to kill all of you when the sun goes down. And they're right. The devil is hiding behind every tree. I know because I've seen him with my own eyes, yes, sir, I have. Pray to God, Yankee, because you're going to die."

  It was first thing in the morning and Cooper was already growing tired of the boy's outbursts. He smiled at Rose. "Can you keep him quiet for the rest of the day?"

  Although tired, she held up her Bible and winked at him. "I'm sure I can."

  "Thanks," said Cooper as he stood up and walked over to the roaring fire. Stone, the pastor, and Owens were standing about warming their hands.

  "So what did Maclean tell you?" asked Stone.

  "He said all of his men, less Moses, are dead," replied Cooper.

  "I think he's telling the truth," said Owens. "I checked the bodies before they were laid to rest and identified each and every one as someone belonging to his gang. Unless he's recruited some new people that I don't know about, you killed 'em all."

  "How do we know you're telling us the truth?" asked Stone.

  "Because I have no desire to die out here with you. That's why."

  "How much farther is it to O'Doul's farm?" asked Cooper.

  "Until the sun comes up and I can get my bearings, Captain, I'm not sure."

  "Take a guess."

  "With Maclean slowing us down, it's probably still a full day's march from here."

  Stone asked, "Will we get there before nightfall?"

  "If your colored boys carrying Maclean can keep up with the rest of us, I don't see why not."

  Cooper saw a twitch in Stone's eye just before he lashed out and smashed his right fist into the side of Owens' face. The sheriff, stunned by the savage blow, staggered back before falling to the ground.

  "My men are carrying your dear cousin, Sheriff!" snarled Stone. "Perhaps you'd like to carry him on your back all the way home?"

  Owens reached for his pistol.

  Cooper drew his first and aimed it at Owens' head. "Easy does it, gents, this is getting exasperating. I suggest we save this discussion until we're back at the plantation. Until then, I need you both to behave like civilized gentlemen."

  Owens lifted his hand away from his gun. "I'll do as you say, Captain, but only until we're out of the swamp, after that Stone and I are going to settle things man to man."

  "I accept," said Stone.

  Cooper shook his head and holstered his pistol before reaching down to help Owens up to his feet. "I don't know about you two, but I'm going to get something to eat."

  Sergeant Hawkins looked over his shoulder at Captain Cooper and gave him a quick wave before sliding down the muddy embankment and into the cold water. He grimaced as it flooded over and into his boots. With each step he took, the water got higher on his body until it was almost at his waist. Behind him waded Thomas and two of the farmhands. Hawkins had selected a tall tree in the distance as the first spot they would make for. Since no one had seen Solomon, they were walking in the direction Hawkins thought he heard his voice coming from the night before. Hawkins kept his eyes focused on the water. Aside from alligators, he knew the bayous of Louisiana were home to several venomous snakes. Luckily most weren't aggressive, but the thought of being bitten by one made him shudder.

  "What if we get to that there tree and don't done find Solomon?" Thomas asked.

  "We'll keep going until we can't see the captain and the rest of the group," replied Hawkins. "I don't want to lose sight of them-not in this swamp. It would be far too easy to get turned around and wander off in the wrong direction. We'd probably end up walking in circles for days without ever seeing another living soul."

  When they came to the bald cypress tree, Hawkins raised his hand. The men with him stopped and looked around, trying to see any sign of Solomon or the other missing men.

  "I don't see anything," said Thomas.

  "Me neither," replied Hawkins. "But I also don't want to give up the search."

  "What do you want to do?"

  "Leave one of your men here while the rest of us push on. When we can't see him anymore, we'll turn around and come back."

  Thomas turned around and waved a young man wearing a straw hat and carrying a machete to his side.

  Hawkins looked ahead and selected a tree with a long branch on it that looked like it was pointing at him for them to walk toward. He was about to place his hand on a log when he spotted a snapping turtle sitting there looking up at him. Hawkins gently knocked the turtle into the water with the butt of his carbine and watched it swim away.

  "Let's go," he said over his shoulder. As he took his first step, he sank deeper into the water. It was soon over his belt.

  "I can't go on," protested the young man with them. "I can't swim."

  "Okay, stay here with Lucius," said Thomas. "But keep a close eye on us in case we need help."

  With Thomas by his side, Hawkins walked through the water until they arrived at their next destination. The sound of buzzing flies combined with the nauseating smell of death told Hawkins they'd found something. He brought up his carbine and looked around. At first he didn't see it, then his eyes spotted a hand s
ticking out the water. The skin was porcelain white. Hawkins tapped Thomas on the shoulder and pointed. They trudged through the muck and found the rest of the body floating in the water.

  "It be Cyrus," said Thomas, looking down at the corpse. His voice quivered with fear.

  The foul smell escaping from the body almost made Hawkins gag. He brought up his kerchief to his mouth and bent down to examine the remains. His blood turned cold when Hawkins saw a deep cut from Cyrus' throat all the way to his groin. He pulled the body toward him and peeled back the skin. The man's innards had been removed leaving a bloody, empty cavity in his chest.

  "My God, what done happened to him?" asked Thomas.

  "I don't know," replied Hawkins as he lifted his head and looked around. "Can you see Solomon or Nathaniel?"

  "No."

  "Neither can I. I hate to say it but I don't think we're gonna find them out here. Come on, let's take Mister Eyre's body back to the others so he can be given a decent burial."

  The mood among the rest of the party when Hawkins returned was one of shock and anger. They were horrified at what had happened to Cyrus and were worried sick about the two other missing men. No one said it aloud, but they didn't expect to find either man alive.

  "Since we don't have a shovel with us," said Cooper to Hawkins, "get the men to gather up as many rocks as they can and we'll cover Cyrus' body with them.

  "I say we leave his body and get moving," said Owens. "Whoever did that could be still around waiting to attack us."

  "Yes, they could be," replied Cooper. "But we're not going to leave him for the animals to eat. We'll leave when I say so and not one second before. Since you're worried about people lurking in the shadows, might I suggest you keep watch while the rest of us bury Cyrus."

  Owens muttered something under his breath as he stepped back from Cooper. He turned to face the swamp, drew his pistol, and with his one good eye he stared out into wetlands.

  It was only after Pastor Melancon had said a final prayer for Cyrus' soul did they continue their long slog through the bayou to O'Doul's farm. Owens once more was in the lead followed by Cooper, Rose, and Moses. Pastor Melancon, Thomas, and his men carried Maclean while Stone and Hawkins kept watch behind them.

  Toward noon, Cooper saw Owens stop in this tracks. He walked to his side and asked, "Why are we stopping?"

  The sheriff pointed at the pool of water at their feet. "I think the river must have switched direction sometime last winter and washed out the path I used to follow to get to O'Doul's."

  Cooper saw the trail they were following bend off sharply to the left. "Will this take us to the farm?"

  "I don't know. I've never walked it before. It may lead us there or it may take us deeper into the bayou."

  "Well, it's the only piece of dry land that I can see, so I say we take it and see where we end up."

  "It's your call, Captain. Just remember the swamp isn't too forgiving on people who get lost."

  Cooper could see no other alternative. Going back wasn't an option and splashing through the water up to their waists carrying a man on a stretcher wouldn't help them either. He looked at Owens and said, "Lead on, Sheriff, and whatever you do, don't get us lost. I'll pass the word that we're taking a different path to O'Doul's."

  Owens nodded and continued his slow but steady pace through the woods.

  They never stopped for lunch. Only a fifteen-minute break to rest their weary feet was all Cooper allowed. As the long, humid afternoon wore on, Cooper started to wonder if he had made the right call when they unexpectedly emerged out of the forest into a clearing. Directly in front of them was a small wooden shack with a stone chimney.

  "Is this the place?" Cooper asked Owens.

  The Sheriff shook his head. "No. I've never seen this home before."

  "I'll get Hawkins to hold up in the woods and look after everyone while you and I check it out. Perhaps the person living here knows a way out of here?"

  "I don't see any smoke coming from the chimney. The person living there may not be home."

  "Well, there's only one way to find out."

  Cooper and Owens walked toward the log cabin. As they got closer, they could see numerous animal traps lying on the porch of the home. A large alligator's skull was nailed to the door of the house. Several large animal pelts, most likely from black bears, were hung out to dry.

  "The man who lives here must be a trapper," said Owens.

  "Looks that way. Why don't you try calling to him before we get any closer?"

  "Hello, you in the house, my name is Sheriff Tom Owens from Williamstown. I need to talk to you."

  Silence answered them.

  Owens stepped a few paces closer. "Mister, you're not wanted by the law. I just need to talk to you."

  "I wonder if he's an old timer and only speaks French?" said Cooper.

  "Could be. I don't know a single word in French. Do you?"

  Cooper repeated the message in French. As before, there was no reply. "I guess we're going to have to open the door and see if there's anyone home."

  "After you, Captain," said Owens with a slight bow.

  Cooper walked to the closed front door and pushed it with his hand. It creaked open. Right away the smell of rotting flesh assaulted his nostrils. Cooper fought hard not to vomit. He placed his kerchief over his nose and mouth and pushed the door all the way open. On the floor lay a naked man's body with its head missing. Flies hung like a mist above the bloated corpse.

  "What the hell is going on out here?" said Owens, looking down at that the corpse.

  Cooper drew his pistol and walked inside, He was careful to avoid stepping anywhere near the dead trapper's body. He made his way to the fireplace and placed his hand on the ashes. "There's no warmth left in the cinders. I doubt it's been lit in days."

  Owens looked about for anything that could tell them who the dead man was. He picked up a faded picture in a wooden frame of a woman holding a child in her arms. There was writing on it, but it wasn't in English. Owens handed the picture to Cooper.

  "The dead man was definitely a Cajun. The writing is French," explained Cooper.

  "What does it say?"

  "To my dear Andre from your loving sister, Clarisse."

  "Is there a last name written on it?"

  Cooper shook his head. "I guess the best we're going to get is his first name. When we get back to town, you can ask around and see if anyone ever knew him or his sister."

  "That's doubtful. Folks back home like the Cajuns almost as much as they do the coloreds on account of them being Catholic. My father used to say the English never should have kicked the French out of Canada all them years ago."

  Cooper had seen enough. He stepped outside and took in a deep breath of fresh air. A shudder ran down his back when he thought of the decapitated body lying only feet away from him. Cooper stood on his toes and waved to Hawkins to bring the rest of the group to the house.

  "Now what?" asked Owens.

  "We'll bury the trapper and rest up here for the night. I doubt we could go much further before nightfall."

  "What if whoever or whatever killed the Cajun comes back?'

  "I'm tired of losing people. This time, I want to be waiting for him."

  17