by Catie Rhodes
The goat man laid the ugly little object on the road. He tapped it three times. The man-shaped root got to its feet. Oscar’s evil emanated from it. Somehow, the goat man had put Oscar’s soul in this little root.
Horror crept over me, cold and sneaky. The sight of that hideous, inhuman object taking on human form made my skin crawl. A scream filled my throat. But frozen like I was, there was no way to let it out.
The goat man gave the root holding Oscar’s soul a little shove. It ran for Oscar, scrambled up his horse’s legs, and disappeared into the suit of armor he wore. Armor clanked. Oscar went rigid, his body shaking. His posture tightened. A high whine came from him. I entertained a fantasy that he was dying. But then he relaxed into himself again.
He nudged his horse toward me and adjusted his grip on his sword. The goat man held up his hand in my direction. Energy surged through my limbs, flowing through my body until my teeth vibrated with it. The mantle plumped up and pushed against the scar tissue. The goat man dropped his hands. I tripped forward as he released me.
I snatched the pistol off the ground and ran at Oscar, firing. I’m pretty sure none of my shots hit the mark because Oscar didn’t react at all. The flapping of hundreds of birds wings came from within my head and around me. I opened my mouth, and a raven’s growling battle cry came from it.
A jolt of energy came from behind me. In my heightened, restored state, I could see Mysti’s signature on it. It dislodged Oscar from his horse.
I ran harder and leapt for Oscar. With one hand I grabbed onto the horns on his headdress. With the other, I grabbed the hilt of his sword. Oscar blasted an agonizing jolt of magic into me and threw me off him.
I called all the energy I had and sent a stream of it into him, hoping to shock him enough that I could get the sword and the headdress away from him.
Shelly appeared beside me. “For Cecil!”
Together we lunged at Oscar. I grabbed for the headdress, Shelly the sword. Gunfire began as Oscar’s huntsmen came to his aid. The headdress slipped. Some of its magic seeped into my fingers. A blood-thirsty rage filled me.
“It’s coming off.” I gave the headdress another yank.
“Retreat. Retreat.” Oscar’s voice echoed in the night.
The horn blew. Its force threw both Shelly and me backward. Oscar wheeled his horse around and ran for his life. Before the horn’s echo faded, Oscar and his horse blended into the night. The huntsmen followed, their hoofbeats mingling with the rolling thunder.
The headdress gone, my rage faded back to its normal low simmer. I picked myself up off the ground and looked around for the goat man and Black Silas. They could kill me, sure, but I was going to say what I had to say. Both seemed to be gone. Cowards.
I stomped back to Cecil’s body. Each step felt like a mile, and my chest ached as though I’d been kicked. My family surrounded me. We stood over our lost elder like crows do over one of their dead.
Black Silas appeared next to me. “Come with me.”
“My uncle’s dead. Fuck off, please.” I gave him a shove.
Suddenly, he was in my face, eyes blazing with something worse than fury, something more powerful than my paltry magic.
“Oh no, you don’t. I liked Cecil Gregg. He was a smart man. You’ll not disrespect his sacrifice out of silly human pride.” He gripped my arm with fingers like iron and dragged me away from my family. I pounded him with one fist, which he ignored. They seemed not to even see our struggle.
With a voice that stank of the grave, Black Silas spoke into my ear. “Cecil sacrificed himself so the Wanderer would grant you audience. I’m to explain the particulars of this meeting to you as a final favor to Cecil.” Black Silas gave me a hard shake.
I stopped hitting him and glared at him, my teeth bared. If I had even sort of believed I could kill Black Silas, I’d have tried. Cecil was gone. I wanted to spread the hurt.
Black Silas glared back. He was scarier than I’d ever be. “Are you ready to act like a woman of your station instead of a spoiled child?”
Heat rushed over my body and collected in my cheeks. I dropped my eyes from Black Silas’s and nodded.
“There’s a cavern at the place you’re staying,” he said. “Meet the Wanderer there at the devil’s hour. He’ll give you two items. Do not lose either. Your life depends on it.”
I hung my head and let the tears drip from my chin. Black Silas grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him.
“Do whatever the Wanderer says, or all is lost.” With a breath of hot wind, Black Silas was gone. Engine revving, his old car backed up, and went back the way it had come, leaving me alone with my mourning family at the crossroads.
16
We put Cecil’s body in the bed of Kenny’s truck. It felt like an insult to a man I had considered great. Shelly, crying too hard to talk, climbed into the driver’s seat and motioned for me to ride with her. Shelly drove my dead great-uncle, one of the finest, kindest men I’d ever known, back to Boone’s Ghost Town the same way we would have a load of groceries.
The green neon still glowed on the sign leading into the attraction. Lights still shone from the dance hall. Music still blasted. People dressed like cowboys partied on. It was just another night to them, but everything had changed for my family and me.
Shelly steered the truck on past the dance hall, her face set and shiny with tear streaks. The three vehicles behind us, full of friends and family, made it seem like some kind of funeral procession.
“He deserves better than this.” She parked in front of Buckaroo Bunkhouse.
I nodded but otherwise couldn’t move. Regret stiffened my muscles and sat heavier on my shoulders than any weight I’d ever carried. Cecil was dead because of me. My mentor. My elder. My friend. I’d barely spoken to him over the past few days.
Cecil had taught me so much about embracing who I was. About what I could do if I wanted to. He’d accepted me when I needed someone to do that. Now he was gone. My life would never be the same.
If I’d understood Black Silas correctly, Cecil had sacrificed himself so the Wanderer would see me. Then he’d told me to do whatever the Wanderer said. This set up all kinds of freaky scenarios. What kind of being took life sacrifices in exchange for appointments?
Shelly’s voice, raw from crying, cut into my thoughts. “This was the last thing Papaw could do for you, and he was proud to do it.” She sobbed a few times but got control enough to speak again. “Papaw has known he was dying since the last hospital visit. They told him he had six months…maybe.”
That didn’t help my feelings. Cecil might have had only a few months left to live, but he’d died tonight because of me. I choked back my grief. Shelly pulled me into her arms. We clung to each other, sobbing. She hitched out the rest of what she wanted to say.
“He wanted to die a hero. On his own terms. Not in some damn hospital with tubes running out of him.” She took a shuddering breath, exhaled with a low moan, and let go of me.
“That what he told you before it all happened?” I took out my cigarettes and lit one, the smoke sour in my mouth. I deserved all things sour.
“He didn’t have to. We lived together almost as many years as you’ve been alive, honey.” She twisted to face me, dark eyes bleak and hard. “You want to know what he told me after he made you get out of the truck?”
I didn’t. Not really. Because it would make me feel even worse. But Shelly would tell me because she’d just lost her partner and needed to mourn.
“To take care of you. To make sure you fulfilled your destiny.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and sat staring at me.
The tears welled up, stinging my sinuses, and overflowed my eyes. They left cold trails down my cheeks and neck.
She took out her phone and checked the time. “You’ve only got a few hours until you meet the Wanderer. Before you do that, I’d like to…” She glanced toward the bed of the truck where Cecil’s mortal remains lay.
Bury Cecil. The unspoken words hung in the air.
I wouldn’t have been able to say them either. Shelly was right, though. We’d have to get Cecil out of the bed of this truck and bury him. That would take some arranging, and it would be up to me to smooth the way. Shelly seemed to read my thoughts.
“You’re our leader now, so get yourself together, come inside, and help us plan. Meanwhile, I’ll go comfort Cecil’s and my daughter.” Shelly opened the door and slid from the truck.
Jadine’s sobs drifted in. Shelly went to her daughter and held her. Dillon ran out of the bunkhouse. Shelly and Jadine showed her what was in the bed of the truck. Dillon began crying too.
“No, Papaw, no,” she said between sobs.
She and Jadine embraced and wept together. Both saw Cecil as I did, a father-figure, the world’s best coach on how to be an outlaw and never get caught. Shelly ushered them into Buckaroo Bunkhouse. I sat alone in the truck, smoking and letting the tears run their course. The door on my side opened.
I turned, expecting to see Finn. It was Hannah.
“You’re out of time. Shelly needs you.” Her eyes were wet. She’d been crying for Cecil too.
I hopped out of the truck and caught up with Hannah, putting one hand on her back. “You did good back there. Kept them off us.”
“Papaw died anyway.” She walked with her head down.
“The worst part of it all is that he planned it. He traded what life he had left so the Wanderer would see me.” I grabbed Hannah’s arm, needing her sympathy.
Hannah stopped and faced me. “That’s some serious baggage to carry.”
“Think how awful it’ll be if I fuck it all up.” I swiped tears off my cheeks.
She grabbed me in a fierce hug, but didn’t assure me things would turn out okay. They didn’t. Not in the real world. I hugged her back.
Shelly’s voice rose inside the bunkhouse. “Don’t you say no to me, you little pin-headed turd.”
Uh oh. She’d gone full-on angry Yankee. I let go of Hannah. Both of us took off running.
I reached the bunkhouse first, slammed inside, the bright lights burning my eyes. My eyes adjusted just in time to see Brad pull Shelly out of an unfamiliar man’s face. The man and Shelly continued snarling at each other.
The man looked to be around sixty and had a wiry build with visible muscles in his arms. I had a bad feeling this was the man who owned this property. And now that Cecil was dead, whatever charity he’d felt he owed us had run out.
Brad stood between the man and Shelly. He saw me, and relief flooded his face. Poor guy. Brad and Mysti had both grown up in foster care, but Mysti was the tough one. Now he’d married into a family of outlaws.
I walked right up to Brad and stepped between him and the unfamiliar man. He and I stared each other down. Hadn’t someone told me this guy was a doctor? Griff and Mysti, yes. They’d told me Cecil got out of going to a hospital by bringing this guy into our troubles.
The man sure didn’t look like any doctor I’d ever seen. Unless we were talking about the kind who sold prescriptions out of a ratty mobile home. Hard, cold eyes gleamed back at me. The tattoos on his arms were punch tattoos, so old the ink had faded to a bluish green. They had the look of jailhouse tattoos. Old ones, from the days before prisoners started making tattoo guns out of old cassette players.
“What’s the problem?” I hoped I sounded like Cecil. He’d always asked questions like he could listen to the answer or shoot somebody dead.
“You can’t bring a dead body on my property.” The doctor’s spittle hit my face. It took everything I had to hold still.
“It’s already done. Let’s work on the solution.” I took my eyes off the doctor’s for a second and found Finn. I motioned for him.
My cousin, now my right-hand man, pushed his way forward and stood next to me. He crossed skinny arms over his equally bony chest. He wasn’t much tougher than me, but he talked a good game. Tanner, on the other hand, would have twisted this guy’s arm behind his back until he begged us to do whatever we wanted. But Tanner wasn’t here. I’d lost him, and now I had to do the best I could.
“Shelly, what are you and…” I didn’t know the guy’s name, so I just gestured at him.
“Daniel Boone. Doctor Daniel Boone,” the guy said, straight-faced. I tamped down my laughter.
“Shelly, what are y’all arguing about?” I stared at the doctor as I spoke, daring him to make a peep.
Shelly shoved Brad off her and stood next to me. “I want to bury Papaw in that graveyard right as you first enter Ghost Town property.”
“And I still say hell no.” Doctor Daniel Boone shook his head. “Some of those graves date back to the 1800s. Now I loved Cecil. But I need you people to get his carcass…”
I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. I brought one knee squarely and swiftly into his nuts. It wasn’t a hard hit, but in my experience any direct hit worked. Sure enough, Doc clutched his balls and bent his knees, face reddening.
I took slow breaths, the way I’d seen Cecil do in situations like this, and spoke in an even voice. “Don’t call Cecil a carcass. Okay?”
The doctor grunted and continued his junk-cupping squat.
Finn gripped the doctor under his arm and raised him. “My cousin asked you a question. Answer it, yes or no. Nodding is fine.”
The doctor nodded his head. Finn let him drop. We surrounded him and waited for him to catch his breath.
When he did, he glared at us. “That’s a historic cemetery. I don’t want you putting an unmarked grave in there.”
I squatted down in front of him. “The farther away from this place we go with Cecil, the more chance the po-po’s going to catch us. If we say we were here…and we will be forced to do just that…”
I threw a pointed glance at the tattoos. The doctor flushed. Exactly the reaction I’d hoped for. He didn’t want a close encounter with law enforcement any more than we did.
Shelly spoke into my ear. “Cecil loved the Texas Hill Country. Being buried in a place like this, one with history, is exactly what he’d have wanted.”
The doctor muttered again about an unmarked grave. I reared back my foot and raised my eyebrows. He waved one hand to let me know he understood.
I smiled. “I think the best solution is for us to bury Cecil in your cemetery here. It’s what he’d have wanted. You’ll need to go close your juke joint…”
“Now wait a minute.” The doctor pulled himself to a standing position. “I started out helping an old, sick friend. Now you’re closing down my business. That’s how I make money.”
I felt for the guy. I really did. But we couldn’t take Cecil to a mortuary. They had to make reports, and we didn’t need questions from law enforcement. Cecil’s death would be too hard to explain.
“This is going to happen.” I took a step forward. The doctor flinched. I bit back a smile, ashamed of myself. “You can consider this your final favor to an old friend, or you can make us beat the Jesus out of you.”
The doctor’s shoulders rounded. A darkness spread through me. This was the first thing I’d done as my family’s new leader, and it made me feel dirty inside. Had Cecil ever felt this way? I wished we’d talked more about situations like this. Too late now.
Doctor Daniel Boone held out one hand for me to help him up. I nodded for Finn to do it. The good doctor brushed himself off.
“There’s an equipment shed across the property. Shovels and shit in there.” The doctor spoke in a breathless voice. His nuts must have still hurt. Good.
“Fine. Brad can drive…” I didn’t want to say Cecil’s body. “Brad can drive the truck over to the cemetery.” I tossed him the keys.
We left the bunkhouse and walked to the equipment shed. The doctor went inside and flipped on the light. He pointed at a row of shovels hung on the wall. “This is all the shovels I’ve got.”
A farm tractor sat at the back of the shed. I pointed at it. “Got any attachments that’ll dig a grave, Doctor Boone?”
The doctor turned around a
nd studied me. I hoped he didn’t decide he wanted to fight.
“I insist that people who coerce me into digging an illegal grave call me Dr. Danny. Nice to meet you.” He stuck his hand out for me to shake.
“Peri Jean Mace.” I shook with him.
“I know. Cecil spent all day bragging about you.” He climbed up in the tractor’s seat. “Now let’s bury that stubborn old bastard.”
Things went fast after that. Dr. Danny got the tractor out of the equipment shed and hooked it up to a small backhoe. A few of us grabbed shovels and followed the tractor to the cemetery. Dr. Danny drove the tractor inside and directed Brad to pull the truck over to a grassy, vacant area near the back fence. We closed the gates again and stood in the darkness.
Dr. Danny took out his phone. “I guess I’ve put it off as long as possible.”
He made a call and said, “Helene, I need you to shut things down.” A pause. “I don’t care if it is Halloween Eve.” A longer pause. “I don’t care if we’re making more than we did all summer. Shut it down, and shut it down now.” He hung up on her talking and put the phone in his pocket.
Helene must have been good at following orders. Within ten minutes, a female voice came over the loudspeaker system. “I’m sorry to break up the party, folks, but we just discovered a safety issue.”
A rumble went up. Helene waited until they quieted.
“No cause for alarm. No danger right now. But we do need to vacate the premises for your safety.” Her cheerful voice had an angry edge. “Please come back and see us another time. We’ll have this fixed by tomorrow night.” Then she muttered, “I hope.”
Car and truck engines started. Backup lights flashed. Pretty soon, a convoy of headlights rolled out of Boone’s Ghost Town. They drove right past the darkened cemetery, unaware of our presence. Dr. Danny watched them go with a sick expression on his face.