by Ivanna Roze
During the investigation Ash started trying to figure how the conversation would go with Arthur Little. How he'd explain that he absolutely did his job and didn't screw the whole job up.
Maybe, just a thought, the first thing he should try would be not to bring up the trouble he and Cora had gotten up to. Then, once that was done with, he could start trying to explain that the whole situation had been some kind of setup from the beginning.
He went up the mountain first. He was starting to run lower on money than he would like, down below a hundred dollars of advance money, but the horse was a necessary expense. The trip up the mountain was easy. Cold, windy.
But then, the whole town was. The whole place had the unnatural chill over it. Which meant, Ashton thought with a mix of frustration and optimism, that they were within a few miles.
Anything further out than that, the Sign would have trouble manifesting itself. So it meant that there were precious few places to look.
The town sat at the base of a mountain, the mountain where the silver vein had been found and was now being opened up into a mine where everyone seemed to work. It turned the town, every day, into the strange ghost town that he had walked into that first day.
Then, at night, there were too many people cramped into a town far too small to hold them all. He could have seen the man himself in a crowd and been able to do nothing. And that was if he was even able to see the man through the thick crowd.
Ash forced himself not to worry about it. There were other problems that he would have to deal with. Bigger problems.
He remembered the map that he'd glanced at as he walked into the surveyor's office. The focus hadn't been on the mountain itself, but the mine. It had the information he needed, but there was plenty of information he didn't need, and it was muddling things. If he had read it right, though…
The ground started to fall away into a harsh downward slope up ahead, leading into a little bowl. That was exactly what he was looking for. Ashton took the horse down, checking the load on his pistol again to help make sure.
Sure enough, he nodded. There it was. Right where he'd hoped it would be. Well, right where he had expected it, at least. Ashton pushed the pistol back into the leather holster, pulled it a little way free again. Even after he'd done it a dozen times, even a hundred times, there was still that doubt that he wouldn't snag on it, and he wanted to be extra sure this time that it wasn't sticking in.
There was nothing coming out of the darkness at him just yet, and that was a good sign at least. Now if only he could confirm that this wasn't just some homesteader out here, trying to find a place away from people for his goat ranch, then it would be sure.
No goats outside, that was sure enough. No tilled land waiting just a few more weeks to plant. No stable for horses. Just one big farmhouse. Must have been twenty, thirty rooms in the place. Enough space for Ashton and everyone he knew.
He wasn't going to live there, though, regardless of what he found. There was too much that he didn't want to give up back home. If it wasn't the place he was looking for, then someone else was already here, and if it was, then soon he would have too many bad memories of the place to let the luxurious space sway him.
As he pulled up, he found himself questioning. The place looked like nobody lived there. The windows were dark, some of them even boarded up. Then there was the fact, though, that Cora had just taken him to a place only a little smaller, a little colder than this.
He tested the pistol again in its holster as he pulled off the horse. It still came easily, built exactly right. Like everything he owned, less the jacket that he'd folded up and put into his saddlebag, unable to justify leaving it behind entirely.
When he went in, the first thing he noticed was the way that the amulet, hanging there on his chest, started to burn. He didn't like anything about this house, and now he had proof that something was going on here. Well, he could ignore that.
Ash didn't announce himself. It was past that, now. Instead, he went door-to-door. He could hear a voice that he was sure was Cora's, but it was a little ways down. She seemed calm, even relaxed. The first door took him into a bedroom.
It was furnished like a monastery. A bed, a table by the bed, a small hearth, and a whole lot of nothing else. The walls were bare.
Cora's voice got a little louder. She was excited or upset about something. Then a little louder. He could hear what she was saying, now, even through the distance.
"Momma?"
Lying in the bed was a skeleton, maybe a hundred years old. Maybe older, he thought grimly. He stepped into the next room. It was almost the same. The picture would repeat, he knew. The bodies would be different ages, some of them more recent. Others less.
But he knew what he was finding.
This wasn't a man with several wives. This was a creature, and his wives were long gone. He made his way to the open door, already knowing what he'd find there.
Cora had a chair behind her, but she wasn't sitting in it. Instead, she was trying to shake a woman awake who wasn't ever going to wake up again.
Twenty-Four
Cora let herself slump back into her chair, too tired for anything else. She knew she'd made a commotion, and it had brought the other women back in to see what had happened. No matter how many of them came in, no matter how much they cooed over her, it wasn't going to bring her mother back.
"It was just her time," one said softly.
"She told me the same thing," Cora said, sadly. She could feel her mother's presence, still there, as if she might get back up any minute.
All this time, and Cora had lost her. All this time, and they'd had a couple of short days to spend together. Then, as suddenly as the woman had come into her life, she'd been taken back out again. Just like when Cora was a little girl, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason for her mother leaving.
She was just sick, and there was nothing to be done to stop it. That's what she said. But it felt wrong. Cora felt like she was being cheated. Maybe she was. It wasn't fair. What had she done to deserve this? What had her mother done to deserve it?
The women all around her gave her a warmth, though, that helped Cora to understand what her mother had gotten out of this family. They were so kind to each other, and so understanding. Every one of them seemed to so completely understand the loss that she was experiencing, even as they were telling her that nobody could understand what she was going through.
Cora let out a sad breath. A minute later, she heard something that she hadn't expected.
"Cora, come on."
It was Ashton's voice. She hadn't heard him come in. There was too much going on in the room. It was too busy, too crowded.
"I can't leave her here, Ashton."
"We'll give her a proper burial, then."
"It wouldn't be right."
What wasn't he understanding? Devil or not, Momma was his wife now. What kind of funeral would someone do without the whole family there? No kind, she knew. Nobody would do that.
The Devil hadn't been around in the past day or two. Momma didn't seem bothered by it. She said he was out, taking care of some things. They raised chickens, she said, and he was out selling the new chicks in town. No big deal, he did it every few months.
"Cora, you're not making any sense."
"Ladies, will you leave us alone a minute?"
The Devil's wives all gave her sad looks. One, the oldest, frowned a little, looking over at Ashton. "Is everything alright? If there's goin' to be trouble, then we'll keep you safe. We owe Carolyn that much, at least."
"No, I'm going to be perfectly alright," she said. "Isn't that right, Ashton?"
Ashton looked bewildered. "You're going to be fine, Cora. Once I get you out of here, we'll get you back home and you'll be completely fine. I promise. I'm sorry I lost you back there."
The women filed out of the room, but Cora knew that there would be at least one or two in the hall, listening in. It didn't much matter. They had let her know before th
at Ashton would come, and that it was only a matter of time. They knew who he was, they knew what he was.
He had his hands wide, and she stepped up and leaned into him, tears starting to flow again even when all she wanted to do was explain to Ashton why she couldn't leave. The past few days had been all she had hoped they would be, but she wanted just one more.
No, she thought. Not one more. She wanted many more. She wanted her mother back. Well, that wasn't going to happen, she knew. The woman that she had grown to know, grown to like, over the past few days was gone now. The light was out of her eyes.
"Come on. We'll give her a good burial out back."
"What about her family?"
"We'll take care of all of them, Cora. It'll be okay."
"You won't hurt them, will you?"
"No, Cora, I won't hurt them. There's only one thing I'm going to hurt. Nothing's going to hurt his wives, not any more."
Cora looked up at him, her face twisted in confusion. "You don't understand. He's not—"
Ashton looked into her eyes and pressed a kiss against her lips. "Come back to me."
Cora shivered at the kiss, and her fingers suddenly felt stiff, but she couldn't figure out why, and a moment later they were alright again. She flexed them anyways, just to be sure.
Ashton pulled her into a hug with one arm, but Cora didn't miss him reaching out to put the back of one hand gently on Momma's forehead. Then he wrapped her up tight.
"Come on."
He started to move toward the door.
"I'm not going. You're making a mistake, Ashton."
He turned back. She could see the frustration in his face, could see him holding back saying something.
"I've made plenty of mistakes in my life, Cora. I've got to go find a shovel."
"No. Stop." She forced herself to sound more confident than she felt.
Ash stopped, standing in the doorway. Either the women who she thought would be outside the door had gotten out of there by now, or he was ignoring them because he had expected them just like she had. "Stop and what?"
"I'm not leaving until you tell me you'll let him be. You don't understand, Ashton. It's not like you think it is."
He turned. She could see his face darkening, could see the frustration coursing through him right in the lines of his face. "I can't do that, Cora. I don't know what you're seeing that I ain't seeing, but even if you're right, this is bigger than you, me, however many women are in this place."
"I've met him, Ash."
"I know. That was him outside the stage, after it turned over."
"Then, and then we spoke after. He cares for all these women. He takes care of them. This far out, they wouldn't be able to do anything without him around."
"Cora—"
"No. If you're going to keep insisting, then just get out of here. I don't want to see you, and I don't want to be your excuse to ruin these women's lives."
"Cora, you don't know the first thing about my reasons for doing this."
"I guess I don't know you as well as I thought I did," she growled.
Ash didn't look back at her. "No, you didn't."
And then he was gone.
Twenty-Five
Ashton pressed his head against the wall. She wasn't listening, and she didn't have the first idea what she'd walked herself into. Now it was going to be on him to try to bring her out, but he wasn't seeing how he could convince her that she wasn't seeing reality.
Ashton had heard about this sort of thing before, in the most vague sense. People helping out Devils to perform all kinds of crazy things. He had always wondered why they would do something like that. Well, whatever she was seeing, he was watching that happen in front of his eyes.
The woman's body had been no colder than Cora's, even in that chill. Ash had to hope that counted for something. If that was her mother, and he was willing to accept that Cora would know her own mother, then he could afford a few days. What he couldn't afford was to rely on his own knowledge. He hadn't even finished training when Peters died. The old man kept his pupils close, even when they were finished with their apprenticeship, but he had never felt like one of the boys. Not really.
He ground his teeth together. He'd have to get back on that horse and make his way back to Salt Lake City. He had to catch a train to New Orleans, and he had to do it in a hurry.
She might not die before he could get back, but that didn't mean that he could leave it as long as he pleased.
The way down the mountain was faster than the way up, but Ashton's patience was gone. He didn't have time to waste going down the damn mountain. He traced the quickest route down that he could find, and then set the horse double-quick and pointed himself in the direction of Salt Lake City.
Daylight was burning. He pulled up into the train station with the sun going down, and the ticket-seller closing up the booth as he rode up. The platform was empty.
"When's the next train to New Orleans?"
"You'd get on a train to Chicago and then head south," the man said, continuing to close up. "And it's not until ten in the morning."
Ashton held off the desire to curse. "Thank you, sir."
He'd have to wait. No other choice, really.
Ash laid himself out on one of the benches. What were they going to do—roust him? A hat over his eyes and he let himself slip slowly off to sleep.
Ashton never remembered his dreams. He preferred it that way. It was easier that way, so even though he could remember just about anything he wanted to, he didn't remember his dreams.
He woke himself, his body icy-cold in spite of the warming spring weather, twenty minutes before six. The sun still wasn't up, but he pushed himself up straight and headed straight for the nearest place that had lamps lit. He needed a cup of coffee to cool his nerves.
The wait was too long. If he'd had his preference, then he would have known someone in town, and the two of them would have dragged Cora out of the building. But it was dangerous to do that kind of thing right inside the Devil's own territory alone, and he didn't know anyone.
The closest he knew were the two in New Orleans, so that was where he was going. The telegraph office charged him two quarters to send the message along that he would be coming to fetch them. Samson and Hewitt would have to leave their post, but they'd understand that the minute he arrived. Until then, they were going to have to wait. But at least he could let them know they were waiting for something.
Ashton settled back into the bench. There was going to be a long wait ahead of him, and he didn't like it, but that wasn't going to make the Chicago-bound train get there any sooner. He had lost the magazine in the train fire, and though he could remember every page, going over it again in his head didn't feel right.
Nor, he thought, did picking up another. He needed to focus, couldn't afford any sort of distraction.
He took in a deep breath, looked at the clock in the middle of town to confirm his mental timekeeping and make sure that he had plenty of time.
He was losing it. There was a time and a place for nerves. Nobody could get around them. Not even, if he was to be believed, King Peters himself. Doing the job they did meant pushing through that. It meant making sure that they didn't let their nerves control them. That was exactly what he wasn't doing right now, and if he didn't get it under control by the time that they were back in Utah, it was going to get him killed no matter how much backup he brought.
It was the cool head that had kept him alive through so many scrapes before. Without it, he was going to lose a hell of a lot more than reputation. He'd lose the girl, he'd lose the thing that killed King Peters, and he'd lose his life on top of all of it.
The train pulled into the station two hours later, and he stepped onto it carrying a magazine he'd already finished reading and a bag full of hunters' tools, a pistol at his hip, and the knowledge that between three of them, whatever had Cora in its grasp, she was going to be alright.
Now he just had to wait a couple of days to make
the transfer at Chicago, and then another day or so before he'd be in New Orleans, and hope that somehow things didn't get a whole hell of a lot worse while he was gone.
Something told him to be prepared for anything when he got back to Utah.
Twenty-Six
Cora was either getting used to the feeling of the cold, as if she were inoculated somehow, or the protection runes had started to really effect her, because when the Devil took her outside, she couldn't feel it any more. They all went, together, carrying her mother out. But she was the first among them. It was, after all, her mother.
Cora took the duty with a great deal of pride, but inside she wondered if maybe they hadn't underestimated her mother's relationship with her.
For years, Cora had never understood why she left. She still didn't, but now she understood at least why she had stayed gone. What she had found out in the West wasn't something that you could find back home, not even with your two children who both missed you. That still stung, and she still doubted whether or not she had any more right to carry the woman to her final resting place than the others, if their relationship was still so weak, so strained.
But they had all insisted, the Devil himself no less than the others. She was Carolyn's daughter, and that was enough by itself to warrant her carrying her mother. Symbolic, they said, as if it was her who had to most bear the weight of the woman's death.
Cora didn't know about that. Nobody in the house was anything less than upset about her mother's death. But she would accept that argument, at the very least. If not because she agreed, but just because she couldn't bring herself to hurt their feelings.
The ceremony itself was quiet and solemn, with each of them saying a few words. Cora tried hard to listen, but the tears wouldn't stop coming, and when it came her time to speak, she stepped up to the grave and just sobbed into her hands.