“Look here,” Sid said as he spread the horse’s jaws apart. Globs of snot and blood and mucus and white foam dripped from the horse’s mouth. Large bleeding sores covered its gums and four of its teeth were missing. The horse’s eyes were covered with a yellow haze and its breathing came in short and irregular bursts. “This ain’t right. This horse is dying.”
Trane looked at the horse and frowned. “That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard, Sid. That horse ain’t dying.”
Sid swallowed and released the horse’s head. “That’s what I’m telling ya. Maybe it’s got rabies or something, I don’t know. I ain’t ever seen anything like it. It’s got a fever and it puked up blood just a bit ago.” Sid pointed at a drying pool of blood a few feet away. Big green flies buzzed around the mess.
Trane spit dryly and looked at Sid. Damn if this didn’t beat all. If that bank money didn’t surface, the profit from these horses would be all he’d see from this whole affair. Still, he knew Sid wasn’t stupid enough to buy sick horses, no matter how much he threatened him. “What about the other three?”
“One of ‘em looks fine, but the other two look like they’re getting what this one has.” Sid pointed at John’s horse. “My guess is that this one will be dead by morning, the others in a couple days if they have the same thing.”
John’s horse abruptly shuddered and began to cough, struggling for breath. Sid grabbed for it, but the horse backed away, throwing its head from side to side. Blood blasted from its muzzle, splattering across the ground. Flies buzzed around, already smelling carrion. Sid backed toward Trane, unsure what to do.
“Well fuck me--I guess you’re right,” Trane said, amazed by what he was seeing.
“What should I do with ‘em?”
The horse reared up, its nostrils flaring wide. A second later it coughed and sneezed and sprayed Sid and Trane with blood and foam and phlegm. The horse shuddered and collapsed in a heap, its chest struggling to breathe. Blood seeped from its eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. A pile of bloody stool sat a few feet behind the horse.
“There’s only one thing to do,” Trane said as he pulled out his revolver. He shot the horse in the head and it fell to the ground. Blood and foam leaked from the gunshot wound.
“Now where’s my money?” Trane asked.
“I’ll buy the healthy one for fifty. If the other two live I’ll buy them too, but I can’t afford to buy them right now. I can’t buy a horse that’s going to die on me.”
Trane looked up and down the road. Two women stood across the street and an old man was slowly leading his wagon into town. He looked back at Sid. There was no way he could get at Sid right now, not with all the folks around. But he’d get even with this little prick, that much was certain. “Give me the fifty.”
Sid reached into his overalls and pulled out a small leather wallet and took out fifty dollars and handed it to Trane. Sid knew that he was probably in trouble, that Trane was pissed as hell at him, but there was no way he’d buy those horses.
“I’ll be back tomorrow in regards to those other two horses.” Trane glared at Sid. “For your sake they better be better. Understood?”
“Of course.”
“You’re a motherfucker, Sid. One big motherfucker.” Trane stuffed the money into his front pocket and turned and walked away from the livery. Sid waited until the sheriff was down the road before he turned to the dead horse. Sid walked over to it and bent down.
The horse’s muzzle was splattered with drying foam and mucus and blood. Sid grabbed a stick and used it to pry the horse’s mouth open. Its gums were lined with sores and at the back of its mouth was a large wound, like someone had reached back there with a knife and sliced out a large chunk of flesh. Sid dropped the stick and stood up. The real question was why this horse and the two others got sick, while the fourth horse didn’t. Since they were brought in together, it was safe to assume that they had been together for awhile. Long enough for whatever killed this one to spread around.
Sid walked over to a bucket of water, grabbed a handful of the lye soap that sat next to it, and washed his hands. After drying them on a clean towel, he walked over to the healthy horse.
It stood at the rear of the stable, eating some hay. Sid looked at its eyes and mouth. It looked perfectly healthy, which meant that whatever killed the other horse could be contained and that there was a chance that some horses would be immune to it. Still, three out of four horses getting sick wasn’t a good ratio--not good at all, especially if this spread to the other horses in town.
Sid returned to the outside of the livery and looked down at the dead horse. He wished he knew what was making it sick, but there wasn’t any time to investigate that right now. He had to get the infected body out of here and wait and see if the other horse was truly immune. He prayed that it was.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Seth Peeples sat at a dusty table in Jackson’s tavern, nursing a glass of murky water. Damn if he didn’t want a whiskey. But things were going all wrong and he had to keep a clear head, make sure he was ready for whatever was coming. He looked at the empty plate in front of him and debated whether or not to order some more bread. He drank some more of the water and decided against it.
The door to the tavern swung open and one of Seth’s coworkers, David Touhy, walked in. David was covered in sweat and dust. He walked over to Seth.
“Find anything?” Seth asked.
“Not a damn thing.” David sat down and looked at the bartender. “Get me a couple glasses of water.” Despite the fact that David was twenty years younger than Seth, he carried himself with the poise and maturity of a much older man, and that’s why Seth liked having him riding shotgun. When the shit hit the fan, David knew how to handle things. The bartender brought the glasses of water over.
“Thank ya,” David said as he guzzled both glasses of water, one after the other. The bartender nodded and returned to the bar.
“Where’s Saul?”
David wiped off his mouth. “He went a bit further out, wanted to see if he could pick up their trail.”
“I have a feeling we ain’t gonna find shit.”
“Think it was those damn Hualapai?”
“They never rob stages. They may be murderers of women and children, but they ain’t damn robbers. Besides, the army ran them off a couple years back.”
“You ever have a stage go missing before?”
“Once, about eight years back. A gang hit the stage as it was coming out of California and made off with a lot of money. One of ‘em ran off his mouth one night when he was drunk, so most of them boys were captured.”
David spit on the floor. “What happens to us if the stage ain’t found?”
“It ain’t our damn fault. We were hired to meet the stage here, and here we are.” Seth stood up. “I’m going to go talk to Trane and see what he has to say. If the stage hasn’t showed up by tonight, I’ll send a telegram.”
David nodded. “I’m going to get some grub. I’ll see ya later.”
#
Dust swirled around Seth as he walked down the street. The wind was picking up and dark clouds were building on the horizon, but the sun still blasted the town. Seth wiped the sweat off his face. He hated this town, always had. It was hot and dirty and the damn sheriff was a fat asshole. Trane was always hanging around when the stage changed hands, circling like a damn vulture. Seth knew that if any of them turned their backs for a second Trane would rob them blind. Hell, he’d probably kill them all if he thought he had a chance at getting away with it.
Seth reached the sheriff’s office and walked in. The inside smelled like burnt bacon and sweat and piss. His eyes adjusted to the light and he saw Trane sitting behind his desk, sleeping. Seth looked into the cells and saw two men lying facedown. They were both covered with bruises and cuts. As he walked over to the desk, Seth wondered why neither of them was fully dressed.
“Sheriff,” he said.
Trane’s breathing was heavy and labored
.
Seth snorted and clapped one hand down onto the desk. “Sheriff!”
Trane slowly opened his eyes. He glared at Seth. “What the hell you want, Seth?”
“The National hasn’t shown up. It should’ve been here by now.”
Trane coughed up some phlegm and sloshed it around in his mouth before swallowing it back down. Trane’s bottom lip was moist from the effort. “Maybe them boys got caught in that storm that’s brewing.”
“The storm is coming from the east. They’re coming from the west.”
Trane gave Seth a look as he slowly wrenched himself from his chair. “Well, then, this looks like quite the predicament, don’t it?”
“It would appear so.”
Trane stared at Seth. “So what do you want from me? Need me to form a search party?”
“Saul and David already went looking; if they can’t find the stage, it ain’t going to be found. I just need you to write a letter stating the time and date and that the stage never showed.”
“Lookin’ to cover your asses, eh?”
“Just following procedure.”
Trane laughed. “Yeah, right.” Trane walked over to the door of the office and looked out. The wind was picking up and the air was full of dust. “There a reward for that stage?”
“That’s for the bank to decide. I ain’t got anything to do with that.” Seth could see where this conversation was going. He fingered his revolver and thought about how nice it would be to shoot Trane in the back of the head. The town would probably throw him a parade, build a monument in his honor.
“A reward sure would be nice. This is a poor town, Seth. A little extra would go a long way.”
“I’m going to send a telegram later today and I’ll mention that some concerned citizens have asked about a reward.” Seth took a deep breath. “You going to give me that letter?”
Trane turned away from the door, a smile stretched across his face. “Of course I’ll get you that letter, it’s just that I’m not feeling so well right now. I’ll have it for you first thing in the morning. Will that work?”
“As long as it’s dated with today’s date.”
“Come by in the morning. And be sure to let me know if you hear anything about a reward.” Trane’s smile broadened. Even if those assholes in the cells didn’t talk, maybe he could turn them over for a reward. After all, if they survived the night he had planned for them and still didn’t talk, it would be time for him to cut his losses. That could be a good time to turn over the receipt. The money, however, would be staying with him.
“Thanks for your help, Sheriff.” Seth headed out the door.
“My pleasure,” Trane said. After Seth disappeared out the door, Trane walked over to the cells and looked down at Paul and John. Yep, he was going to get some money out of this. One way or another.
#
Seth slowly walked back toward the tavern. Damn that Trane. He knew the sheriff would work some angle, and from the looks of things it looked like that fat fuck wanted a reward, justified or not. Seth wondered if Trane might be in on the disappearance of the stage. Shit, maybe the whole town was in on it. He wished he would’ve taken a better look at those two fellows that were in the town’s jail, made sure they weren’t Danny or Bubba.
Seth reached the tavern and stopped. Saul and David sat on the bench outside, waiting for him.
“Well, what did fat ass have to say?” Saul asked. Saul was a huge man, well over seven feet tall, and his entire body was one rippling muscle. He was the meanest man Seth had ever known.
“Not much.” Seth glanced toward the tavern and saw the bartender standing at the window, watching him. “We need to talk. Let’s go back to our rooms.”
Saul and David stood and followed Seth down the street. Saul coughed a bit into his hand. His throat felt dry and scratchy. He hacked up some white phlegm and spit it out. It hit the dry road and quickly disappeared into the dirt.
The trio reached the small hotel on the edge of Jackson and slowly walked through the lobby and up to Seth’s room. Seth waited until David and Saul were inside before he entered as well, closing the door behind him.
“I take it you didn’t find anything?” Seth said to Saul.
“Not a damn thing. That stage didn’t get within thirty miles of town.”
Seth shook his head. “Trane asked about a reward and there was a couple guys in his jail. They were beat up pretty bad.”
“Think they might have something to do with this?” David asked.
“I don’t know. Trane seemed awfully interested in a reward, though.”
“That fatso is probably in on it,” Saul said.
“It wouldn’t surprise me. Shit, I’m starting to think the whole town is in on it. That stage carries a lot of money, more than enough to spread around.” Seth walked over to the window and looked out. The clouds were closing in; there was going to be a hell of a storm. “We’re going to have to watch our backs,” he said.
“You going to send a telegram?”
“I’ll send it in the morning. I asked Trane for a letter and he said he’d have it for me tomorrow. I should’ve pushed him on the issue, but if he’s in on it I didn’t want to make it seem like I was suspicious of him.”
“What will the bank do when it gets the letter?” David asked.
“They’ll probably tell us to stay here and they’ll send out a couple of those Pinkerton fellas.” Seth turned away from the window and sat down. “That could get ugly, depending on who they send.”
“I had to deal with Pinkerton once,” Saul said, “back when I was working for the railroad. They’re some mean sons ‘a bitches. You don’t tell them what they want to hear and they start breaking bones.”
“After Trane gets me the letter in the morning, I’m going to have the mayor sign it. That’ll go a long way in smoothing things over with the bank.”
Off in the distance thunder rumbled.
#
Trane looked outside through the window at the rear of his office. Further out in the desert, lightning flared and rain was visible, drifting gray sheets that moved through the air like a wave. As soon as it got dark he’d shut and lock the door and go to work. The sounds of the storm would drown out any screams or cries for help. This was working out better than he had hoped.
Trane heard a muffled cough and turned around. Doug Lintz, Jackson’s mayor, stood in the doorway. He looked at Trane and walked into the office. Lintz was a slight man, maybe five and a half feet tall, but in his younger days he was known as one hell of a fighter. Even Trane would think twice before mixing it up with him.
“Hey there, Doug,” Trane said as he moved behind his desk and sat down. “What brings you around these parts?”
“I heard that you brought in a couple fellas this afternoon.” Lintz looked at the cells. “Some citizens expressed concern about what was going on, so I thought I’d come over and see what’s what.”
“It’s good to hear folks care what’s going on.”
“Yep. So what’s with these two? Word is you brought them in from somewhere out of town.”
“They were out at Jerry’s ranch causing trouble. Hit one of the whores and then tried to steal a horse.”
“Uh-huh.” Lintz walked over the cell. “I also heard that the National stage never showed up last night. I imagine those two don’t know anything about that, do they?”
“Not that I’m aware of. They were dressed like that when I arrested them, so I doubt they were equipped to be messing with a stage.”
“You working with them National boys to find that stage?”
“Yessir, Seth came by this afternoon. Said he was going to send a telegram.” Trane wanted to get up and lead Lintz away from the cells; he didn’t want him seeing those boys too close. If he saw the whip marks or cuts, he’d get suspicious for sure. But there was no way to get the mayor out of here without drawing more attention to the situation. Trane cursed to himself and sat still, trying to look calm and collected.
“That’s good, that’s good.” Lintz looked at Trane. “I just want to make sure everyone knows that Jackson is a law-abiding town.”
“No one would ever question that,” Trane said. He felt himself getting pissed off but he fought the feeling; the last thing he needed was to get into a fight with the mayor. If he was lucky enough to get away without a solid ass-kicking he’d be run out of town for sure. Trane knew that he wasn’t the most popular fella in town, especially compared to Lintz.
Lintz walked toward the door. “Looks like there’s one hell of a storm brewing.” He looked back at Trane. “If you need help with anything, let me know.”
“Will do.”
“Good evening, Sheriff.” Lintz stepped out into the night.
Trane opened and closed a fist and he felt his face grow red. He wrestled his way out of his chair and walked over to the cells. Those boys were going to pay dearly for the trouble they were causing. He’d make damn sure of that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Darkness came quickly that evening, the sun erased by black clouds. Thunder popped and rolled, and lightning flared across the sky like an electric veil.
Sid’s house was a small and filthy one-room shack that held a stove, an old dresser, and a straw-stuffed mattress. It was a few feet behind the livery, hidden from the road and the view of most people. A simple trench behind the shack served as his latrine, with Sid covering his own shit with that of the horses and other animals he serviced. A cold lantern lit the shack.
Sid sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, white pain shooting through his head. His eyes bulged in their sockets and incredible pressure was building within his ears. Sid opened his eyes and looked across the room. Everything looked unfocused and his vision would disappear for a few seconds and then return. Sid coughed and blood splashed across his chest. He looked down at the blood. It didn’t look normal; it was too thick. Sid wiped his hand across his mouth. His hand was covered with blood and flecks of white. A wave of dizziness washed through him and he nearly fell off the bed.
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