“C’mon. You can ride with me and Paul,” Jessie mumbled and nudged Kaga.
The native man nodded and cast one last glance at the shack. Jessie mounted Paul and helped Kaga settle behind him. They followed Tokota, Ruby, and Boothe as they rode in Grace’s wake. They’d only gone a few paces before they came across a wooden signpost, freshly painted in stark white. In large red letters, it declared Worm Wood, 5 Miles.
Jessie scrutinized the sign as they went past, expecting it to burst into flame or collapse in pieces on the side of the road. It did nothing of the sort, and when he turned around and looked behind him, the signpost still sat in the hard earth and decreed its direction unfailingly. Jessie started to turn back to the road when he noticed the farmhouse. His throat tightened and he nudged Kaga. The native man turned and stared.
The shack was a crumbling ruin of broken boards and rotten wood. Weeds grew shin-high out front and had started to work their way inside through gaps in the boards. The roof was missing timber, and great black holes were illuminated by the bloated moon above. The shack itself was utterly black inside, as though it hadn’t been occupied in years.
Kaga turned and caught Jessie’s eye.
Jessie swung back and faced forward. As they trotted down the trail he realized the crickets and cicadas had fallen silent.
CHAPTER FORTY
By the time they rode into the outskirts of Worm Wood, clouds had rolled in and blotted out the moon. The clouds’ silver edges glimmered from time to time, but the pale luminosity that had bathed the land was gone, replaced with inky darkness that seemed to swallow up all light. Sullen torches dotted about gave off a smoky haze, and dour lanterns sputtered in windows, but nothing seemed to have the zeal required to chase away the gloom. They rode down the wide main street in a row, Tokota on the far right and Aaron Boothe far left. Their horses’ hooves beat in unison as they trotted, dull thuds that echoed off Worm Wood’s wooden buildings and double-story houses.
Jessie kept one hand pressed against the Colt as he rode. He gazed into the darkness and peered down alleys expecting something to leap out and drag him off his horse. He flinched as Lumière tossed her head and her bridle jingled. He caught Ruby’s gaze as she patted Lumière’s long white neck. Ruby smiled, but it was a tentative smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Jessie’s gaze slid back to the dark town, and he stiffened when he caught sight of a slinking shadow as it disappeared in a black alley.
“See that?” he whispered to Kaga behind him. “Thought I saw...something.” He felt the native man stir. Jessie eyed the shadows as they rode. He frowned. Maybe it had been a trick of the light. Maybe it was just a kid running home to a late supper.
Or maybe it was a demon who was, even now, watching them from the darkness.
He shivered as a string of goose flesh ran down his arms, and he faced forward. With a deliberate effort, he released his tense fingers from the Colt. No sense worrying about it. If it came to a fight he had more mighty folk on his side who could do a heck of a lot more damage than he could. Jessie breathed out and glanced sideways at Grace. She rode as she always did—relaxed, watchful, and cloaked in an aura of menace. She rode like the Horseman of Death.
Worm Wood’s dark veneer soon faded as they approached a lively saloon. The saloon’s frosted glass windows glowed orange, and light breached the night beneath the batwing doors. Raucous laughter and the clink of glass on glass spilled from the saloon. A piano jangled merrily inside, and a fiddle sang in accompaniment. Outside the saloon, folk milled. Jessie gawked at lovely women with enormous bustles, on the arms of well-dressed dandies. Grim cowboys in silver and black leaned and smoked and fingered their equalizers. A dwarf in a ten-gallon hat sat on the saloon steps and flicked a throwing knife into the air and caught it again. Jessie’s mouth gaped as he peered up at the top-floor windows and saw breathtaking beauties lean out and smile down at him. They called to him and tossed down rose petals. Jessie inhaled the scent of myrrh.
“Well now, this is my kinda town!” Aaron Boothe cawed as he winked up at the whores.
Ruby gazed around and sneered. “Mon dieu.”
“They ain’t human. None of them,” Grace said as she gazed at the dandies and dudes, the lasses and ladies of the night. She flicked the leather tongues off Justice and Mercy. “Stay sharp.”
The group reined in at a bare hitching post. Jessie squinted down at the post. It boasted carved bronze plaques set into the wood. He leaned over Paul’s neck and eyed the plaque closest to him.
Uzeblikblik.
Fresh chills traveled up his spine. He looked down the length of the hitching post. Three more plaques. He tossed the reins to Kaga and slid out of the saddle. He wandered the length of the hitching post, his fingers trailing along the wood and over each bronze plaque.
Lumière.
Onyx.
Crowbait.
Jessie looked up and found Grace’s gaze on him. He blanched and said, “Guess we’re expected.”
Grace’s upper lip curled. She clambered down from Crowbait and tossed the reins to Kaga. As he set about hitching their horses to the post, Grace strode up to the saloon, Jessie hot on her heels. Grace stood beneath a sign that declared The Last Saloon and eyed the rogues and ruffians gathered outside. She eyeballed the dwarf, intent on his deft handiwork, and nudged him with the toe of her boot.
“You. I’m looking for a gunman. All dressed in black. Silver spurs. Mean dude.”
The dwarf didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her. He edged away and continued throwing his dagger and catching it again with a jerk of his thumb and forefinger. Grace’s lip hitched as she shook her head at the little man. She turned and peered down the porch at a dandy couple locked in an obscene embrace. Jessie came up beside her and goggled at the two. The dandy had the woman bent backward over the railing, one hand wrapped around the back of her head, his other hand rustling beneath her skirts. Grace trod the steps and approached the pair with Jessie a step behind her. He flushed as the sounds of passion overwhelmed him.
Grace reached out and shoved the dandy. He spun around and snarled. His eyes were red with slit black pupils. A forked tongue snaked from his mouth and he hissed like an agitated rattler. Jessie flinched and bumped into Tokota, who’d come up silently behind him.
The dandy’s woman sneered, and there was something distinctly wrong about her that put Jessie’s teeth on edge. Her eyes were jet black with no white around the edges.
Grace grabbed the dandy by the lapels and dragged him close.
The snarl slipped from his lips, and his red eyes widened in stunned surprise. “Get off!”
Grace glared at him. “Listen here, swanga. I’m looking for someone. A gunman. All dressed in black. Silver spurs on his boots. Know where he is?”
The demon man hissed and tried to pull away. Grace’s grip was brutal and his silken cravat tore.
“No! Let me go!” he whined.
Grace flashed her teeth in a snarl as she flung the man back into the arms of his woman. He stumbled and peered at her with disgruntled eyes. Grace turned away and faced the batwings.
Kaga came up close behind her and dropped a hand on her shoulder. “Inside?”
Grace’s lips pursed. “Mm.”
Jessie frowned as a guttural snarl caught his attention. He focused on the dusty street and drew a sharp breath. Two slinking chupacabras faced off over a bloated animal carcass. He grabbed Grace’s arm and they silently watched the two demon dogs snap at one another and feint for the carcass. One landed a savage bite on the other’s flank and lunged at the carcass while the other reeled backward. The chupacabra snagged the carcass in its elongated jaws and loped off down the street, the second dog bawling behind it.
Grace turned and regarded Jessie. Her expression softened slightly, and she ruffled the hair at the back of his head. “This is his game now, Jessie.”
Jessie swallowed. She was right. His game. His town. His rulebook.
Grace swaggered
to the batwings and pushed inside The Last Saloon.
Jessie wasn’t sure if it was the smell, the noise, or the heat of the place that hit him first. The saloon was a cacophony of sound. Laughter tattooed the din, tankards thumped on tables, boots stomped the hardwood floor, and above it all, the fiddle and piano kept up a steady jig. The place was stifling and muggy without the benefit of the late summer breeze that wafted outside. The sour aroma of bodies permeated the place, underscored by booze and stale tobacco.
And everywhere Jessie looked, he saw weird non-humans. Women who were too lovely, too extraordinary to be normal bar wenches or soiled doves floated about the upper levels. They put him in mind of Ina Maddox. Cowpokes sat at the bar and drank, and each and every one was off. One was too tall and too thin to be human. He wrapped six fingers around his mug of beer, and when he drank, his Adam’s apple bobbed down instead of up. In stunning contrast, the cowpoke next to him sat across two barstools and still had flab falling off the stools. He turned and squinted at the newcomers, and Jessie swore the man’s eyes were yellow. The third in the lineup at the bar was so shrouded with fabric Jessie couldn’t be sure he was a man at all. Only by the slight head tilt did the shrouded man indicate he was even alive.
“What now?” Kaga asked softly.
Grace sniffed and strode through the saloon. The tinkle of the ivories halted on an uneasy tone and the fiddle wailed to a stop. Every eye in the place turned to Grace and her strange band. After a little while, the fiddler drew his bow across the strings and music started up once more. Grace stepped up to the bar with Jessie on one side and Kaga on the other. The bartender chewed a wad of tobacco and wiped the inside of a mug with a dirty rag. He eyed Grace, then cast his gaze over the others. Jessie frowned at the bartender. There was something unusual about him.
“What’ll it be?” he asked.
Grace drummed her fingers on the bar and gave the bartender a quick once over. “Looking for someone.”
The bartender shrugged and continued wiping out the mug.
“This would be a blatherskite, mean dude, all dressed in black. Spurs on his boots,” Grace said.
Another shrug from the bartender. “Sounds like half the folk who breeze in.”
Jessie’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the bartender. He didn’t have to look at Grace to know her jaw would be set in that obstinate way and she’d be getting hot under the collar.
Kaga cleared his throat. “This man wears a shirt the color of the sky when dusk turns to evening. As he walks, shadows cling to him and come along for the ride. You get the sense he’s laughing even when there is no smile on his face. If you have seen this man, you would remember him.” His voice was soft and his words made the bartender pause and pay attention.
The bartender lowered the mug. “Guess I ain’t seen him then. Folk ’round these parts are worth remembering, and plenty got mugs that’d scare the blazes out of you. But I cain’t rightly say I seen someone fitting that dude’s description.”
Like someone had struck a match in his brain, Jessie suddenly realized what it was about the bartender that struck him as odd—the man was ordinary. He was plain. He was human. In a town filled with the weird and wonderful, the bartender was as everyday as Jessie himself. He opened his mouth to comment on this when Grace leaned in to the bartender.
“Well, if you do see this dude, I’d appreciate the heads up.” She flipped him a gold coin and squinted until he nodded in agreement. She pushed off from the bar, turned around, and eyed the saloon for a long moment. When she was satisfied, she strode from the bar and marched to a large table occupied by three cowpokes playing a game of sharps. They looked up as Grace approached. One slipped out of his seat and beat a hasty retreat. The other two eyed Grace silently. Jessie and Kaga came up behind her with the rest of their group falling in behind them. The cowpokes surveyed the grim group, glanced at one another, then up and left the table.
Grace hooked one of the chairs with her boot and dragged it out from under the table. She sat down, casual and relaxed, and gestured at the remaining chairs. Kaga and Jessie sat beside her as Boothe, Tokota, and Ruby found places around the table. The soiled doves floating about the place hissed at Ruby. The Louisianan madame smiled sweetly in return. Jessie couldn’t help but grin at her cool response. Tokota sat rigidly on his chair with his Sharps rifle resting on the floor beside him. It would take a man soft in the head to mess with him. Aaron Boothe watched everything with shrewd, assessing eyes and a grin on his lips.
Jessie frowned at the last recruited Horseman. He didn’t like Boothe—that was no secret—but more disconcertingly, he didn’t trust the man. He’d accepted his fate far too easily and seemed oddly at peace with being branded a Justice of God.
Jessie’s attention was drawn from Boothe as Grace gathered up the cowpokes’ playing cards. She stacked them in a neat pile and jerked her head at the bar. “Tokota, go get us some bug juice.”
Tokota nodded. “Want me to ask anyone else about the Gunman?”
Grace sniffed. “Naw, won’t do no good. He’ll make himself known when he’s good and ready. Cain’t do nothing but wait now.”
Jessie felt the rightness of her words in his bones. As she’d said before, this was his game.
Tokota nodded and headed to the bar as Grace shuffled the playing cards and began to deal.
They had nothing else to do but practice.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Jessie grinned at Grace over his handful of picture cards. Her face was thunderous as she laid out her hand. It was obvious she knew she’d lost even before he lowered his cards.
“Tarnation, Jessie Beck! You cheating or what?”
Jessie chuckled and scooped up the handful of coins on the table. Grace might be the best shot he’d ever seen, the most brazen rider he’d ever come across, the most hardened drinker he’d ever known, but she couldn’t play poker to save herself. Her face gave away her cards so readily she may as well have held them face forward. She was all hot excitement when she held good cards and disgusted disgruntlement when she was dealt a low hand. Jessie himself wasn’t particularly great at the game, but he knew how to read Grace, so beating her was sure as a gun.
They sat opposite one another, alone at the table and close to being the sole occupants in the entire saloon.
As the night deepened, the patrons of The Last Saloon had drifted away, off to whatever nightly pursuits creatures such as they engaged in. After a ham-fisted attempt at seduction, Ruby had thrown a tankard of beer into Aaron Boothe’s face and flounced off to her rented room. Boothe, dripping wet and red-faced, had meandered up to the bar and involved himself in some heavy drinking. He was presently lying on the countertop, asleep in a pool of his own drool. Tokota and Kaga had ventured outside to check on the horses. Jessie wondered how long, once they hit the night air outside, they’d remain in each other’s company; Tokota still hadn’t warmed to the shape-shifter, despite Kaga’s attempts to befriend the dour native.
When Jessie announced he felt like retiring to his room, Grace had casually asked him to remain in the saloon and play a hand or two of sharps. Jessie had searched her deep, brown eyes and saw something present there that had nothing to do with a desire to play poker. She genuinely wanted him to stay by her side. Jessie could no more have disappointed her than cut off his own arm. So, they sat and played. And Jessie mused.
“Grace?”
She looked up as she shuffled the cards.
“You ain’t said much about...Well, you know. This whole Horseman hash.”
Grace’s quick fingers peeled cards from the deck and flicked them on the table. She didn’t answer. Instead, she picked up the cards, fanned them in her hand and gazed at them intently. “What’s to say?”
Jessie frowned. “Ain’t you funkified by it all?”
Grace shrugged.
“Criminy, Grace! You just found out you’re the Horseman of Death! That don’t fuss you none?”
Grace lowered the cards. “
Jessie, I watched my folk get beefed by the Darksome Gunman when I was younger than you. I rode the trails tracking demons and fiends, hunting tiktiks and skin-walkers, putting down chupacabras and ghouls. I’ve seen things that can fly that oughtn’t be able to. I’ve seen things that can flay a man alive using just their minds. I’ve seen things that’d turn your hair white, and I’m supposed to be streaky by being branded the Horseman of Death? P’shaw.”
Jessie’s brows furrowed. “But you do believe it, don’t you?”
Grace scrutinized Jessie. “Do I believe the Gunman brought Tokota, Ruby, Boothe, and me together for a reason? Sure. Do I believe we’re all some biblical bad eggs straight out of some preacher’s Black Book?”
She left the question hanging between them. Perhaps she hoped Jessie would fill in the unspoken answer—it’s all ballyhoo.
He didn’t give her the answer she was looking for. “Then why do you think he brought you all together?”
Grace shrugged. She eyed the cards in her hand. “I don’t pretend to know the mind of that bunko steerer. Whatever game he got going on, it ain’t privy to the likes of us.”
“So why not just ask me?”
Jessie and Grace snapped to attention and spun in their chairs. The Darksome Gunman ambled across the saloon floor toward them. Grace started to rise from her seat even as she went for the equalizers at her hips. Jessie shoved his chair backward and tried to stand. A sudden heaviness overcame him and forced him into his chair. He looked at Grace as she sank back into her seat too. Her face was beet-red as she struggled to rise. It was no good. The Darksome Gunman had them pinned to their chairs like bugs on a windowsill. He moseyed up to them with a genial smile on his lips. His eyes were shadowed beneath his hat brim.
“Sonuvabitch,” Grace said as she struggled to free herself.
The Darksome Gunman took a seat between them and casually joined them at the table. He swept up the playing cards in his gloved hands and gathered them together. Jessie watched, near hypnotized, as he shuffled them one-handed and set the playing cards dancing and twirling in his fingers in a dazzling display of dexterity. Grace’s jaw clenched and the veins in her neck stood against her skin.
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