Fresh out of tricks, Eli listened while Bollace drew near. He kept his head down and hidden, until he saw waves bump against the edge of his tombstone.
"Y'know?" the Marshal called out, "I just realized I shouldn't be bothering with you boy. I've got your evidence and now I'll go after your female friend. Without her, you're rope anchor. Actually, you should thank me for rendering you a service. She's using you y'know-not surprising considering her ilk. Pinkertons will hang you every time."
Eli heard Bollace move away. If the Marshal killed Jade, then any hope of clearing his name was gone. Eli pounced from his hiding spot. Bollace was several feet away, pointing his gun straight at him. He was waiting for Eli, playing him for a fool.
Eli tried spinning away. The Colt exploded into thunder and smoke. Eli felt the bullet slam into his shoulder, knocking his feet and his world out from under him.
A rifle shot rang out.
Jade was there.
Bollace lurched forward as the bullet caught him between the shoulders. His eyes flared open, but he was already dead.
Eli collapsed in water made darker by his own blood.
***
It had been a couple of days since the Marshal died, during which time the storm had wandered off. Resting in his hotel room, Eli stared at Annie's ceiling. With his right arm strapped to his body, he was still weeks away from riding out of Carverstown. At least he wasn't dead, not yet.
"Feeling better?" Jade asked, entering the room.
"Good enough to ask some questions, if you don't mind obligin'?" Eli replied with his best Sunday face.
Jade nodded. "Fine, but only because I owe you for clearing up some of the mystery."
"You're a Pinkerton," Eli observed. "That's why Annie was harborin' you, and scared of you."
"That isn't a question," Jade rebuked.
"Alright then, what was in the ledger?" Eli asked.
"A wash of ink," Jade responded. "When I shot Bollace, he dropped the satchel in the water. That took care of whatever the rain left untouched."
"Then we'll never know why he was chasin' Jacob?" Eli groaned.
"Bollace did say he was blackmailing the Vanderbilts, so I think I know..."
"Wait a second?" Eli asked suspiciously. "You heard Bollace say that? You were there when he was spillin' his beans?"
Jade nodded unashamed.
"Why didn't you step in?"
"Because," Jade began, piercing Eli with her one eye, "you proved to me you couldn't read by your reaction to the engraved watch. I knew you were bluffing with Bollace; you weren't sure what was in the ledger. Truth be told, neither was I. If I wanted to get a confession out of Bollace, I needed it from his lips. I was planning on saving you, but I didn't figure you'd try and jump him first."
"Alright, I am maimed, but you did save my life, so I'm still beholden to you. You said you thought you knew why Bollace was blackmailin' the Vanderbilts, though. Somethin' about the Commodore?"
"We've suspected for some time that Cornelius 'The Commodore' Vanderbilt is still around."
"He isn't dead?" Eli asked.
"No, I mean he's still running the family business. That's what Bollace meant about skeleton out of the closet."
"That would be a big secret. Then, why were you after Bollace?"
"Because Bollace was after Jacob Mordecai. The Pinkertons were never in good with the Vanderbilts until Jacob came for our help. He said he'd trade secrets for our protection. A US Marshal-Bollace-received ten-thousand dollars from the Vanderbilts, but Jacob wasn't sure why. I was supposed to meet with Jacob when he uncovered the truth, but he never showed. Next thing I know, he's on a train heading west, leaving his possessions behind. I guess he found out about the Commodore, and the Vanderbilts, in turn, discovered he was dealing with us. Anyway, he runs all panicked with Bollace on his tail. Problem is, he takes an Iron Dragon train for the first half of the trip, which the Vanderbilts invested in. They keep track of him easily. At Fargo, Jacob smartens up after the marshal nearly ambushes him, and heads out on stagecoach. Problem was, I was always one step behind Bollace and two steps behind Jacob. I thought for sure I was going to lose them in this storm. Just blind luck that it all fell in my lap."
"So, what now?" Eli asked. Admittedly, he was worried she'd arrest him for robbery, but he was too weak to fight or escape. He resigned himself to her clemency "I head back east to report to my superiors."
"What're you tellin' them about me?"
"I'm letting you go. You provided the Pinkertons with leverage against the Vanderbilts; they don't know the ledger is useless. And, hauling your sorry carcass across the plains is not my job. Besides I saved you, and putting you in jail will get you killed."
Eli looked confused. Jade explained, "Don't matter what you know. If the Vanderbilts find out you had the ledger, what d'you think they're going to do to you?"
Eli nodded," I see your point."
"Good, because understand this. You died in that graveyard two nights ago. If you ever tell anyone what happened here, I'll find out about it, or the Vanderbilts will. Either case we both got powerful friends who'll fetch us your tongue. D'you understand?"
"I get ya," Eli said. "I'm walkin' dead."
Jade made her way to the door. "You're walking with the storms now Eli," she said as she left, "you're a shadow."
Eli sat there and pondered his options for as long as the sunlight blessed the Heavens. He always knew storms brought fiends with them, but he just never reckoned on their dress. As daylight faded, Eli thought about Marshal Bollace. Man made some frightful monsters long before demons cursed God's soil. Then, Eli kicked himself.
He forgot to ask Jade for her name.
Deep in a pine forest just south of Salisbury, North Carolina, at the entrance of a small cave, Dora Woodson paced anxiously back and forth. At each turn, her long, black skirt swirled, fanning the fire. Although she knew she was safe from all harm at the cave's entrance, something troubled her deeply, something she couldn't name.
"Be very, very careful, Dora," Granny Woodson's warning rang in her ears. "It's very dangerous. We're never safe from the ancient prejudices. Lynch-mobs hunt down Negroes here and kill them for the color of their skin. Imagine what they'd do to you, if they knew," the old woman had whispered in a voice filled with desperation. Sinking back on her pillows, her energy spent, the old woman had grabbed Dora's arm with her withered old hand and held it tightly, pulling the girl closer as she continued to whisper. "It would be just like Salem. They'd burn you in a minute!"
"I know, Granny, but don't worry about that. I'll be careful, I promise," Dora had reassured the old woman who was not her kinswoman at all but was the only mother the girl had ever known. Eighteen years earlier a baby girl had been left in an intricately woven, wicker basket on the doorstep of Granny Woodson's humble cottage at the edge of the dense pine forest. Naming the beautiful child, Dora, in a special ritual held at the cave, Granny Woodson, who was a wise woman, always firmly believed the girl had been sent to her for a special purpose.
"I'd go myself but I can't climb up to the cave anymore and that's where the Magic is," Granny Woodson still whispered. "Did I tell you that once you're at the entrance of the cave you'll be safe?"
"Yes, yes," Dora had answered a bit impatiently. "You've told me a dozen times that the cave and all the rocks around it are sacred. Once I'm there, I can't be harmed."
"I've stood on the ledge of the cave while hunters passed by, not more than 10 feet in front of me, and never knowing I was there." The old woman cackled at the memory. "The dogs saw me, though. They'd really cut a shine but the hunters would just scold the dogs and wander on. Once you're there, you're safe. Getting there and getting back here is where the danger is."
"I know, Granny," Dora reassured the old woman. "I also know that if I fail to perform the ritual the cave will lose its power."
The old woman smiled and nodded. "That's the most important thing, child. The Magic needs us as much as we need the
Magic. When we stop honoring the Magic, it disappears. When the Magic disappears our potions are useless."
"Don't worry, Granny, I'll come home with a big batch of the most powerful potion you've ever seen," Dora had cheerfully reassured the old woman with all the confidence of youth.
"We're going to need it, Dora, especially now that the horrible war just goes on and on. So many terrible injuries; so many tortured souls," Granny shuddered at her own thoughts. " To honor the Magic, though, we have to be sure that no one is ever turned away empty-handed. Blue or Gray it matters not to us so long as they believe in the Magic, even if they rarely ever admit it outside these walls."
Dora had carefully made her way deep into the forest, making certain no one followed. When she'd climbed the steep path to the cave and set her booted foot on the ledge, she had nearly laughed out loud with relief. Her relief was short-lived, however. EVen before she started the fire, she was filled with a sense of foreboding, something she'd never experienced before in all the times she'd come to the cave with Granny Woodson.
It's just because I'm alone for the first time, she thought, trying to reassure herself as she completed the first stage of the ritual. Now, with the fire burning brightly and the kettle bubbling rapidly, she paced warily, wishing she could talk to Granny.
"Here I am, child!" Granny's voice came from the wispy steam rising from the kettle. "Don't be afraid, Dora. You've summoned me and that means your Magic is very powerful-far more powerful than mine ever was."
Dora peered into the steam, listening intently, knowing this was the last time she'd ever hear Granny's voice.
"Listen, child! I've come to tell you that a man will appear to you here, but he is not a man. Use the potion. Use the potion!" Granny's voice trailed off and the steam from the kettle was carried away by a gentle breeze.
"Granny, don't go!" Tears streamed down Dora's face as she called out, but an emptiness in her heart told her that Granny was gone forever from the mortal plane.
"Hello up there!" A masculine voice called out, startling Dora. Blinking her tears away, she stood stock still, hoping whoever it was calling out like that was calling to a companion who'd accompanied him into the forest, not to her.
"I'm calling to you," the voice rang out again, answering her as if he'd read her mind. "May I come up and share your kettle?"
Before Dora could answer, the man started up the steep path. Certain the Magic barrier would stop him, Dora simply watched, not attempting to discourage him. Now she could see that he was a Rebel soldier, tall and handsome and very well-groomed. When he placed a booted foot on the cave's ledge, Dora realized the Magic had failed. Terrified, she stepped backward to the cave's entrance, hoping the Magic was stronger there.
He's not a man, Dora could hear Granny's warning.
"You're very lovely," the soldier spoke, but his tone was menacing as he stepped toward her, almost filling the cave's entrance with his broad shoulders.
Dora ducked and nimbly bypassed him, quickly making her way to the kettle.
"I appreciate a little fight in a woman, but don't make me hurt you," the soldier's voice was thick with lust, leaving no doubt as to his intentions.
"Please don't do this," Dora heard herself begging. Firelight glinted off a small dagger in the soldier's hand as he advanced toward her. "Help me!" Dora called out, stepping backward, nearly tipping the kettle over but managing to grab the big ladle from the kettle.
"By the Great Shidon," the soldier suddenly called out in surprise as he began dodging and dancing about on the ledge as if he were being pummeled by an invisible force. Dora watched in amazement as the ladle slipped from her grip and floated toward the soldier's head where it tipped, spilling droplets on his head and shoulders. The soldier sank to his knees then writhed helplessly on the stone ledge.
"No! No! Oh, please help me," he called out and Dora understood him even though she knew he'd made no sound. Dora's initial response to his pitiful cries was to try to help him, but Granny's warning rang in her head: "He's not a man. Use the potion." Racing over to where the ladle still hovered, Dora grabbed it and quickly returned to the kettle. Flinging ladle-full after ladle-full of the potion at the soldier, she watched closely as the Magic did its work.
Soon the soldier's cries were no longer comprehensible, although they seemed to have the ordered pattern of a language. He writhed and wriggled while soundlessly beaming his language telepathically. Dora continued to watch in horrified amazement as the handsome soldier became a giant lizard-like thing with rough, warty skin. She hardly had time to be terrified by the ugly creature before it melted into a dark, purplish puddle that flowed across the rock ledge and into the fire. The fire flamed up for a moment before dying back to glowing embers.
Badly shaken and at a loss to explain much of what had just occurred, Dora nevertheless completed the ritual Granny had carefully taught her. Finally storing the kettle and most of the potion deep in the cave, she left the site before sunrise with a full flask of the new potion. As she warily made her way back to Granny Woodson's cottage her heart was filled with a deeper reverence than ever for the Magic that had saved her that night. Little did she know that far more than one individual had been saved that night when the ancient Magic of the feminine sphere had triumphed over an evil, shape-shifting menace. Dora would become a wise woman whose advice and potions were sought out, albeit secretly, for years to come by the great and the humble. She never failed to serve the latter as faithfully as she did the former, for in so doing the Magic was honored and perpetuated. As wise as she was, however, even Dora would have been amazed to know where the journey had begun for the giant lizard-like creature whose existence had ended on a rocky ledge in a North Carolina pine forest in 1864.
***
The Oshudeins were aware of an obscure planet whose inhabitants called it Earth, but they never concerned themselves with such primitive places. Earthlings were not even vaguely aware of Oshudei.
Smafi was the son of a Grand Duke, and not coincidentally, one of the worst of an otherwise peaceful race. He stared in open-mouthed astonishment at the ugly creature lying on a dais in the middle of the otherwise bare room. The platform was covered with a smooth, gleaming white material, the very sight of which sent prickles over Smafi's rough skin. The creature stirred and Smafi looked on in horror as it stared at him with big, blue eyes, the exact color of fresh Oshudein excrement.
"She's all yours," the burly guard spoke in a voice filled with pity for the first time in all the months he'd been guarding Smafi. "Get on with it. I don't have all day and she doesn't either, for that matter. Her ship leaves at the dawning of the second sun."
"You've got to be kidding," Smafi protested. "I'm not touching that thing. I had no idea she'd be so disgusting."
"Then it's the wormhole for you. C'mon." The guard yanked the chain attached to Smafi's iron collar.
"It's not fair!" Smafi protested.
"It seems fair considering your crime, lover-boy."
"You call it fair that I either have to mate with this horrible creature or be tossed into that unstable wormhole?"
"Maybe the wormhole will simply toss you back. I've seen it happen maybe a half a dozen times. The prisoners just pop right back here and we have to let them go because they've served their sentence."
"What about the others? The ones who don't come back immediately?"
"Who knows? We push 'em in and never see 'em again."
Smafi shuddered. "Have mercy, man," he begged.
"Mercy? There's a joke! You wouldn't be in this fix if you'd shown the governor's daughter a little mercy."
"She asked for it," Smafi growled, "parading herself around in those slick, leather garments, revealing her bulging thighs, and giving me the come-on through her eye-slits. She was really something else. In all my conquests, I've never seen a female with so many tender little warts just begging to be nibbled."
"I hear she was begging for mercy before you were through with her. She died
in agony from all the wounds you inflicted. "
"I'd never have harmed her if she'd cooperated."
"You mean, if she'd yielded, you'd have merely raped her, robbing her of her virginity and disgracing her for life, but you wouldn't have used your dagger on her? What a real prince you are!"
"You're twisting my words, just like that prosecutor. She was nothing but a haughty tease. She got what she deserved."
"And I'm here to make sure you get the sentence the court handed down, you remorseless bastard. Make your choice now and be done with it. Are you going to mate with this creature and accompany her to her home planet, or is it the wormhole for you?"
Smafi turned to stare at the creature again. "How do you know it's female?"
"See the two mounds on her upper body? Those are marks of her femininity. Somehow she derives sexual pleasure from those mounds and then, later, when her young are born, they feed from them."
"That's disgusting," Smafi snarled. "And what's that mess of yellow stuff on her head?"
"That disgusting stuff is an extraordinary mark of beauty to her race precisely because it's that pale yellow color. Also, her long, slender limbs are coveted among her own kind."
"Scrawny, you mean. Pitifully scrawny and ugly and not a wart on her. How do you know so much about her?"
"It's all over the galactinet. It's buzzing with the news of our very fortuitous contact with her planet."
"Fortuitous my purple prick! Not for me! They told me I'd be going to a place where all the males had been decimated by a virus, making it sound like paradise, literally. But they conveniently forgot to describe the females. By the Great Shidon, I think I know why their males disappeared. I'd rather die than face one of these things at feeding time every day!"
"They're not all as beautiful as she is," the guard chortled. "According to the information on the net, she's considered a great beauty on her home planet."
Deadlands: For a Few Dead Guys More Page 11