by Eric Baker
“I know you have something to do with this.” Eli’s voice was gruff, choked with anger and grief. “When I find out what, you’ll pay.”
Jackson felt the heat rise in his own face. He didn’t know how the man had survived, and yet here he stood, accusing him of being a part of it all. And yet… Jackson steeled his nerve. Time to leave.
“I look forward to hearing from you, Sheriff.” Jackson nodded at Daisy, then turned around and walked away.
Eli balled up his fists and took a step forward toward the retreating Mayor. But he was stopped by a hand on his arm. Looking at the hand, he followed the arm to Daisy.
She smiled up at him, a wonderful and concerned smile, even if it was tinged with fatigue and dust. Eli forced himself to let go of the need to confront Jackson. Plenty of time for that later. Especially now that he had an idea where to start. Railroads and mines.
Daisy was still looking up at him, giving him time to sort out his thoughts. After a moment, she could see he had set aside the demons, at least for the time being.
Eli let out a deep sigh. He reached up to his hat, running his hand through his hair as he looked around at all the activity. They’d have time to rest later.
“Daisy, would you mind getting a few of the women coordinated and get some food, blankets, and stuff together? Grab a few men and set up at the hotel, if it’s still standing.” Eli looked at her, obviously worn out. But the job was necessary. “We’ll finish up here, then we’ll most likely all be in desperate need of cleaning and feeding.”
“You got it, Sheriff. I’ll save you a seat.” Daisy smiled at him, then leaned over and planted a quick kiss on his cheek before turning away and calling out to the women.
Eli stood in surprise and watched her leave. He could still feel the heat of her lips. Maybe he would take her to the next dance if they…
“That was new.”
The voice behind him startled Eli enough to make him jump as he turned around. Josh busted out laughing.
“You best be more careful, Sheriff. A zombie could sneak up and kiss you.”
Eli rolled his eyes in exasperation. As he did, he paused as his gaze caught something in the distance. He squinted hard, using his hand to block the sunlight coming in from the side.
“Sheriff? Something wrong?” Josh turned to look in the same direction.
Eli was silent for a minute. The shadow that had caught his eye was gone. Even in the heat of the morning sun, a familiar chill ran down his back.
“Nothing, I guess.” Praying, hoping, that it was nothing, he turned and looked back toward town. Incredibly, it had only been a day since death had walked into the town of Dire.
“Let’s get back to work.”
EPILOGUE
Outside of town, a weary and worn looking figure made its way up a hillside following an equally weary and worn hound dog. The morning sun shone behind them, causing the man’s face to appear almost black. Panting hard, the dog’s tongue was hanging out, completely dry. Shadows stretched out before both figures, stumbling and weaving in time with their movements.
A small party of Sioux Indians on their ponies watched as the man came close to falling multiple times, yet somehow remained on his feet. Gradually, both man and animal got closer. The Indians watched the approach with the same disinterest they had shown watching the spectacle in the town corral far below.
The closer the man got, the more the braves could make out about the man. Dressed in dirty, handmade clothing, they could hear his soft, rapid breathing. Then, just as quick, he made no noise at all save for his feet shuffling the dirt.
At about ten feet away, the dog broke into a quick trot, stopping next to the horses and collapsing to the ground. He stared up at the braves, giving them his best puppy-dog eyes. The man had paused at the action of the dog, and then he also looked up. His blood-red, dilated eyes gazed hungrily at them. The hands came up, and the man leaned forward, intent to spend his last bit of energy in an attack.
An arrow shaft appeared, sticking out of the front and back of the man’s head, through the left eye. The man paused his forward motion, and his hands dropped to his sides. His face went slack, and his right eye dimmed.
Watching the man for a moment, the Indians turned their ponies around and cantered away. The dog looked back and forth, then followed the horses. The man remained still for a few seconds, then slowly fell forward, flat on his face. A puff of dust blew out from all sides, and then there was silence.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, I have to thank my family. I honestly have to say that a loving family is my greatest joy.
I’m so thankful for my wife, Allison, who has always been there, supporting and believing in me. Thank you as well to my parents, who brought me up to be who I am now, and to my wife’s parents, who gave me the love of my life. And, of course, my kids, that I can’t imagine a life without. You are my inspiration!
And thank you to all the many readers who have provided feedback and support. This book (and those to come) would never have been written without you.
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
Eric Baker is a published songwriter, professional musician and singer, author, husband, and father.
In the field of music, he has written, performed, and recorded nearly every style of music imaginable (and some unimaginable). If you’re in the Atlanta, GA, area, please check out Virtual Adrenaline Recording Studio, or go online to www.virtualadrenaline.com. Ask for Ronnie Winstead, owner, engineer, and guitar wizard extraordinaire!
As an author, Eric's goal is to get people to think about and search for the truth, in their own lives and the world around them. And while fiction isn’t itself the truth, it can lead to revelations if we only allow it.
A proud veteran of the US Army, Eric and his family live near Atlanta, GA.
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