“I still miss her,” I said aloud without really meaning to. Feeling my face redden with embarrassment, I stood up. “I’m going to go prep the inside of the wagon for some rest. Should we sleep in shifts, or do we think we’re solid out here?”
“Shifts isn’t a bad idea,” he said to me. “You go first. The moon is up, and I’m wide awake.”
I nodded and climbed up onto the driving bench of the wagon. I was about to step into the covered area when he spoke to me again.
“I miss mine, too, you know. There’s nothin’ wrong with missin’ your mom, Billy. Dead or alive.”
I nodded. “Thanks. Night.”
“Night.”
I crawled into the wagon bed and set out my bed roll in the open space. Laying down, I let my head wander to the information Zahara had given me and wondered if I’d be able to pull it off. Next to me was a crate of chains, steel nails, and different sized cuffs that I hoped would at least give me the chance to try. We’d know in forty-eight hours. It felt like a lifetime away and yet just around the corner.
I shuddered at the thought of failing and pushed it from my mind. I needed sleep to keep my optimism up. I closed my eyes and let myself drift off. Dick didn’t wake me until a few hours before sunrise, so while he slept, I got the horses fed and hitched. By the time I made food and coffee, he was awake. Stepping down from the wagon, the cry of a desert raven filled the air.
Looking up, I saw him perched on top of the wagon cover. “You again?”
“Just cause they all look alike doesn’t mean it’s the same crow you saw somewhere else,” Dick said, taking the coffee I handed him.
“That’s a raven, Dick. Learn your birds.”
He rolled his eyes at me and drank.
“Only four hours down. That can’t be good,” I said.
“I’m havin’ issues with sleep. After I eat somethin’, I’ll get a second mug of coffee down me, and I should be all right. We need to get movin’.”
Once we ate and filled Dick with coffee, we hit the road where he finally asked the question I knew was coming eventually. “You never told me who you found or what they said about my...condition.”
No, I had not. I was hoping to avoid that talk for a bit longer, but if I tried to evade now, it’d be obvious. “It’s a long story.”
“I think we’ve got the time.”
I sighed. “That we do. Well, it starts with a medicine man and ends with a witch.”
March, 1949
During World War I, Regulators became absorbed by England’s Secret Intelligence Service and renamed MI-4. After the war, that division signed a deal with the FBI so our agents could work in America more easily and assist with the Red Scare, which was not just about communism in America. Scáthach was busy causing trouble and we’d been called in to help. But that’s a story for another time.
By doing this, I was able to carry FBI credentials while in America. This was helpful on multiple fronts. It opened doors, but mostly it stopped us from ruffling feathers, so to speak. Local police and sheriffs in the United States don’t care too much for Federal muckity-mucks coming in and messing with their investigations, but they despise law enforcement from other countries even more. Hell, they barely even recognize SIS as law officers or give us any rights in America. Meaning the FBI papers Sheriff Ortiz had on me weren’t a total lie, just partially.
Trying to stay relaxed in his office, I said, “Look, I’m not here to get in your way of anythin’. I’m just goin’ to be in the area investigatin’ a few things and was told to stop here first.”
“Yes, I spoke to your boss.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You checked my references?”
“Of course I did, and he told me about your assignment. Do you have a picture of your missing agent?”
“I do.” I pulled out the picture of Agent Fletcher Calhoun and handed it to him. “Last we heard from him, he was in Lincoln County. He coulda just been passin’ through or he might’ve been lookin’ into somethin’ here. I have to poke around a bit and see. Does he look familiar to you at all?”
“He does. The name didn’t ring a bell for me since he introduced himself as a PI from New York. Went by the name, what was it, oh, Fletcher O’Conner.”
“That’s one of his aliases, so I’m not surprised. He might’ve been tryin’ to keep his federal ties out of it all. We get a lot of heat from local law enforcement, as you can guess.”
The sheriff nodded. “He said he was in town lookin’ for a man by the name of Blue-Jaw somethin’.”
“Yeah, Seymour ‘Blue-Jaw’ Magoon. Did he explain why?”
“Somethin’ to do with some mob guys back in New York if I remember correctly.”
“Yep. Ya see, after a short stint in the can, Blue-Jaw took off and disappeared. We heard rumor he’d headed back out west, and Calhoun found evidence of him comin’ to New Mexico not that long ago, so he came out here to see if he could locate Blue-Jaw.”
“What for?”
“Just makin’ sure he isn’t dead and tryin’ to keep him safe. Word on the street out east is that there’s a hit out on him.”
This, of course, was complete and utter bullshit. Not the hit, that was legit. But the reason the MI-4 team was looking at him had nothing to do with that. It was because Blue-Jaw had gotten himself wrapped up with some werewolves working in the illegal gambling business and folks were dying or disappearing, and President Truman had asked us for help.
“Well, I got a great artist here. If you got a picture of Blue-Jaw, we can have drawings done of him and Agent Calhoun really quick and I can use them to ask around.”
“That’d be great.” I pulled out Magoon’s mug shot and handed it to the sheriff. “I’ll come on by tomorrow and get those back, if that’d be all right?”
“Sure thing.”
I paused a moment, then decided to ask for some help. “Problem is, I was plannin’ to stay at The Wortley Hotel if I was goin’ to be here overnight but—”
“That burned down in the thirties. No one’s had the inclination to fix it up,” the sheriff told me, looking at the two pictures in his hands.
“That’s too bad. I’m hungry and in need of lodging for the night. Any suggestions?”
“Got a few good places here where the grub’s worth more than they charge and a little bed and breakfast I send family to. I’ll give Lois a call and see if she can take ya in.”
“That’s mighty kind of ya. I’d appreciate it.”
“Not a problem.” He picked up the phone and dialed up the B&B. From what was said, it seemed I had a place to stay for the night. He was almost off the phone when he said, “Lois, did that private detective stay with you back in April?”
This got my attention, and I stared holes through the man until he said, “Mmm hmm...all righty then. Agent William Kidwell is comin’ on over there then. Put him up for me on the city’s account if you would. Tell him whatever he needs to know about that PI. Okay? I’ll send him your way in a little while. Yes ma’am, you too. Bye.” He hung up the phone and jotted something down on a piece of paper. Standing, he handed it to me. “This is the address. Know your way around well enough to find that?”
I looked down at the address. “Sure do.” Standing, I put my hand out to him. “Appreciate all your help, Sheriff.”
He shook my hand firmly. “Not a problem. I’ll walk ya out and introduce you to our artist.”
“Sounds right as rain, sir.”
Sheriff Ortiz led me back to the artist. He explained to the young man how I needed my pictures back the next day and then walked with me out to the lobby. to the lobby.
Looking at his watch, Sheriff Ortiz said, “Ya know what? It’s lunchtime and a beautiful day out. Come on, I’ll take ya on over for some lunch at the diner.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“We’ll take my car.”
“Really, ya don’t—”
“I do. You need to know about Las Cruces. Lois said you
r friend was headed there when he left her place.”
“I’ve been to Las Cruces before, Sheriff. I think I know—”
“No, you don’t. Take my word for it.” He pulled out his keys. “Come on. I’ll tell ya more when we’re away from here. It’s best you understand what you’ll be walkin’ into...ya need to know about Sheriff Alfonso Luchini Apodaca.”
We got in Ortiz’s car and headed on out, and it was evident by the way he was driving that we were going out of our way to make sure we weren’t followed. I commented on this, and all he said was, “I want to live to see tomorrow, Don’t you?”
I hadn’t understood his desperate need to explain this sheriff to me until now. However, now that I did, I wasn’t so sure my trip to New Mexico was going to be as simple as I’d thought. Especially if he was worried about being followed. This was not what it seemed.
March, 1878
Quark-quark, sang the desert scavenger.
“Is it just me or is that raven followin’ us?” I asked, chewing on my last bite of dinner.
We’d made good time that day and had camped about an hour past where I thought we’d stop for the night. Again, we were up against a mountain, but it was nice enough out that we’d set our bed rolls by the fire.
“No idea,” Dick replied, leaning back against a rock, a sheen of sweat covering his face and arms. He’d eaten for two and seemed green in the gut.
“You okay?” I pried.
“I hurt everywhere.”
“Stomach?”
“Only place that’s fine. I mean, I’m a bit hungry still, but if I’d eaten until full, you’d not have gotten any.”
Eyebrow raised, I handed him the last piece of bread and remnants of my bowl of stew. “How you fitting that all in? I mean, I know you’re a big guy, but this is a lot, even for you.”
He took the bread and bowl. “You sure?”
I waved him on. “Where does it hurt?”
He used the bread to mop up the last bits of my stew and ate it before answering me. “Everywhere else. Like growing pains...not that you had those...”
I laughed. “I thought I was the funny one. That was good, Brewer. That was good.”
He grinned and finished off my dinner.
Personally, I was surprised the big man could still stay jovial considering all that had and was about to happen. Looking up at the moon, almost full, I worried about many things. None of which was if I’d be hungry later, and that was a first.
Finishing with a resounding belch, Dick eased himself to lay down onto his sleeping mat. “That was fantastic. No idea where you learned to cook, Billy, but you missed your callin’.”
“I do love food,” I said, unsure how else to respond.
The throaty noise of the raven I’d asked Brewer about earlier filled the air again. This time, it sounded like a warning call.
Standing, I pulled my gun. “Who’s there?”
Silence replied with the sound of wind rippling the covering on the wagon. I reached my hearing out farther, like the witch had taught me. Now I heard it, the breathing of an animal. It could be wolf, coyote, mountain lion, or a cattle-herding dog, for that matter.
I toed Brewer’s boot with my own. “We have company.”
Brewer didn’t move an inch. “It’s a coyote. Not as close as ya think. Lay down and sleep. He’s just lookin’ for a calf.”
“How can you know that? Besides, I’m about the size of a calf, thank you very much, but probably not as tasty.”
A wide smile filled Brewer’s handsome face. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
I sighed at the bad pun.
Brewer opened one eye, still smiling like an idiot. “Short, get it?”
“Shut up, Dick.” I sat, gun still in hand.
He laughed heartily. Once it faded away, he said, seriously this time, “I know because I can smell him. I can hear his movements like you can. But I can tell how far away he is and in what direction.”
“How can you do that?”
“I’m not in pain before a full moon for no reason, Billy. I’m startin’ to change.”
“We’re going to stop that.”
“I don’t think that’s possible now.” Sitting up with much effort, Dick looked at me, the remaining firelight casting angular shadows on his face. “You have to make me a promise.”
“Um, okay...why?”
“Because if nothin’ else, Billy Bonney, you’re a man of your word. And I need that right now. It’s either your sworn promise or I’ll slice my wrists and bleed out by mornin’.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Why would you do something stupid like that?”
“Because I don’t want to lose my soul, become some demon!” he shouted, his frustration finally showing.
“Oh, do alert all to our location, please,” I complained.
“Between the small fire, dinner, and how much I’m sweatin’ right now, trust me, every animal knows we are here.”
I sighed. He was right. “Fine, what is the promise?”
“That you’ll kill me if I change into a demon.”
“Dick, that’s―”
“It’s goin’ to happen. I’m going to change into a wolf. If my soul goes, you kill me. Ya got that?” His blue eyes appeared almost silver in the dark as he leaned toward me, the intensity of his stare a palpable thing.
“Even if you can earn it back in time?”
“Even if. I don’t want her to own me for a second. Okay?” When I didn’t answer, he pressed. “Okay?!”
“Yeah, I got it. You have my word.”
He put his hand out, and we shook on it. Laying back down, he said, “And yeah, that damn raven has been followin’ us since we left the ranch.”
“Dammit.”
15
Gaax
It didn’t take long for Dick to fall asleep. I, on the other hand, tossed and turned, the instructions the witch gave me swimming ‘round in my head. Eventually I slipped into slumber. Not long after, or so it felt, the loud quark-quark of our party-crashing raven woke me. I ignored it and rolled over. Again, it cried out, and again, I refused to move, my head sucked into a beautiful dream of a sensuous Mexican woman dancing with me in a large room with ceilings so high it couldn’t be a real building.
QUARK-QUARK! QUARK-QUARK!
The raven jumped onto my head and beat its wings, yanking me from the dream completely. Cursing, I swung at him and missed as he dove at something in the dark.
Pulling on my enhanced sight, I could see the coyote, big for his breed, pacing the side of our camp that wasn’t up against the mountain.
I slowly reached for my gun, whispering, “Dick? Are you awake?”
The big man didn’t do much more than snort and roll over, and the coyote leapt at him. I reached for my gun, but I was going to be too late.
QUARK-QUARK!
Out of the darkness, the raven flew at the beast, attacking its face with claws and beak. The coyote screamed in pain, swiping at the bird and knocking it to the ground. But before he could move another inch, I shot the beast in the head, learning suddenly that he was not a coyote.
The rush of soul power hit me, and I tottered backward, holding onto the wagon to stay upright. Head spinning, I watched as Brewer’s immense frame shot to a standing position in seconds, rifle spinning up from his side, rising into firing position out of nowhere. He pulled the trigger, blowing the wolf’s head off before he’d even had a chance to fall over and change back to his human form.
My ears rang for a moment as we both stood there, breathing hard. I listened for the second member of his hunting party but heard nothing. Not sure I trusted that, I slid my gun into my pocket and kept my hand close, saying to Brewer, “Well, Dick, that was overkill if I ever saw it.”
Dick turned, eyes glowing silver in the dark, aiming the rifle at me.
“Whoa...whatcha doing, big man?” When he didn’t reply, I said, “Dick! Put the damn gun down!”
Instead, he slowly a
dvanced on me, and I backed up along the wagon until I reached the end. Hands up, I said, “Richard Brewer, can you even hear me?”
The poor raven, somewhere in the dark, made a horrible noise, and it distracted Brewer enough that his eyes ticked to his left. Immediately, I grabbed the barrel of his 1873 Winchester, still a bit hot from the previous firing. Using my accelerated speed and strength, I yanked it toward me and shoved the barrel away from me, lining up the shoulder curve right where I wanted it. With one hard push, I rammed the butt of the gun into Brewer’s head. He let go of the rifle and dropped to the ground, where he promptly rolled over and snored.
I, too, fell to the ground, landing hard on my ass. “Sleep shooting? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? I hate you sometimes, Brewer. I really do.”
A growl, low and steady, sounded close, and I spun around as I pulled Brewer’s rifle into firing position to see a wolf twice the size of the other staring me down. I didn’t hesitate, because he wouldn’t either, and I fired. It hit him in the chest, but he kept running. I cocked the gun and fired again. The silver bullet hit the wolf in the face, and he dropped, sliding toward me on the ground, nose stopping two inches from my boot.
The eyes found mine, and again, I saw the human behind the wolf. I opened my mouth to ask him a question, but he died, and his soul hit me like six horses pulling a carriage ran me over. Once I was more aware, I crawled to my bed roll and located my honeycomb calcite. “Luminaire,” I said, and it lit from within, pooling light all around me, making it possible for me to find the raven in the dark, even with a swimming head. He wasn’t far from the first dead wolf, now a headless boy, no more than sixteen. My heart squeezed, and I turned away.
Sitting by the raven, I said, “Let’s see how badly injured you are.”
He quarked at me, trying to peck at my hand.
“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m goin’ to try and, well, heal you. I’ve only ever done this once, but I think I can replicate it. Least I can do for you savin’ my ass.”
As if understanding me, he stopped fighting and went silent. Carefully, I lifted him as the sun began to lighten the sky.
The Curse of Billy the Kid: Untold Legends Volume One Page 17