by Lana Gotham
“I reckon I could use a little adventure,” he said.
“But first thing is first. Do you think your sister could watch Jacoby? Until we return? The boy has been through a lot and he needs somewhere where he can lay low and be a kid for a bit.”
Tom smiled down at Jacoby. “Gosh, Sheriff. I am sure she can. Hell, when you have seven kids, what is one more little boy.”
Tom’s sister lived outside of town on a ranch with her husband and passel of youngins. I’d only met her a few times, but Tom talked about her all the time and how she was a great Mama and how proud she’d made him. I couldn’t imagine a safer place for Jacoby than running around with a bunch of kids while the female version of Tom made a fuss over him.
“Good. We will take him out there, then get a drink before heading to the mountain.”
Tom paled. “Red Soot Mountain? Now, I don’t know about that, Sheriff. I know you said adventure but—“
“But what are you, Tom? A chicken?” I knew it was wrong to manipulate my partner, but I didn’t have it in me to go alone. I was hungry and sleep deprived. I was liable to storm in and shoot everyone—which would work in theory. But Red Soot witches had a way of coming out on top. Back up never hurt.
“Naw, Sheriff. I reckon I ain’t a chicken.” He sighed. “Let’s get this youngster to Sheila’s house. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Cheryl before we headed out of town. I have a few things I need to say.”
I smiled. “Sure Tom. I don’t mind at all.”
Chapter 27
I filled Tom in on what we were doing and why, on our ride to his sister’s place to drop off Jacoby. Just as I’d hoped, the boy seemed relieved when we entered the small house. There were tykes running around everywhere, and the smell of brown sugar and vanilla made my stomach rumble. Wooden blocks and hand sewn dolls littered the floor, and Sheila, Tom’s sister, had stood smiling, jiggling a cooing baby on her hip.
I could practically see the stress leaving Jacoby. “This is what a house is supposed to look like,” he said. “I...I think I used to live somewhere like this. Maybe. I dream about it. Back before Pa—-I mean Malachi—found me.”
All it took was a little boy to come and grab Jacoby’s hand, and he was off. Before we left, he ran back to me and threw his arms around my waist. “Come back for me. I want to see me Pa—my real Pa—again.”
I promised him I would and it was a promise I intended to keep.
THE RUSTY NAIL WAS flooded with piano music when we entered. I raised my eyebrows and walked over to the musician.
Peeking up from beneath her huge church bonnet was Mrs. Clarice Camden—the Reverend’s wife. If she was shocked to see me, she hid it well. Her fingers never missed a note.
“Mrs. Camden! You are absolutely the last person I expected to see in here.”
She grinned. “Cheryl needed a piano player and I needed money. So here we are.”
“What does Reverend say about this?”
The stout, elderly lady pursed her lips. “I am eighty-two years old. I think I am old enough to do as I damn well please.”
I chuckled. “Good point.”
I left her playing Camptown Races, and joined Cheryl and Tom at the bar. Cheryl poured a glass of whiskey and slid it to my deputy. The two were whispering, and when I approached, stopped talking abruptly.
“What is with you two?” I asked.
Cheryl slid me a shot of whiskey. I tossed it back and signaled for another. Cheryl’s brows steepled. “Huh. I guess Tom is telling the truth, then, you two going to the mountain? I never see you drink like this.”
I downed my second and signaled for my third.
Not much scared me. Nothing at all, really. But magic was unpredictable. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t use it. It made me feel helpless. And feeling helpless was my biggest fear.
Whiskey took the edge off.
Cheryl shook her head. “No way. You really riding up to that mountain, then you are doing it at least half way sober.” She poured a glass of cloudy water and slammed it in front of me. “Drink up.”
I frowned, but she had a point.
“So. What is it you have planned, Alyssa. I know you aren’t charging into this situation without some sort of plan.”
The way she spoke told me that she knew that is exactly what I was doing.
“My plan,” I said, “Is to go to the mountain. Get back Jon’s soul. And shoot anyone who tries to stop me.” I remembered when I’d asked Jon his plan for getting back his son and he’d said basically the same thing. It had sounded crazy at the time—but now I understood. Nothing was going to stop me from saving Jon. Nothing. So plan or no, in my mind, I was going to succeed.
Cheryl crossed her arms over her corseted waist. Her long dark ringlets hung over her shoulders, bouncing as she heaved a sigh. “If you want to risk your own life then that is your business, but you are going to drag Tom in there, you need to be prepared.” She smiled at my deputy who turned the purple-red color of a beet.
I looked from Cheryl to Tom, then back to Cheryl. What was going on with those two?
Cheryl laid her hand on top of Tom’s. “I think you should go. You don’t have a choice, Sheriff. I’d do the same for the man I love.”
A smile blossomed across Tom’s face.
I pressed my lips together. So. Cheryl and Tom. Huh.
“You would?” Tom asked.
“I would,” Cheryl said. “So in order to make sure everything goes fine, I reckon I’ll be riding out with you.” She poured herself a shot then downed it. She grabbed her rifle from the back of the bar and slung it over her shoulder. “Of course, I’ll have to get somebody to watch this place. You want to see a riot in GloryLand? Try closing their bar.” Cheryl smiled. “And there is one thing you should know about me, Alyssa, and that is I do nothing without a plan.”
I know I should have tried to tell her she couldn’t go. She had no business risking her life to help me. But the truth was—I was glad for her help. Besides me, Cheryl with that rifle of hers, was probably the best shot in town. She was pragmatic and not prone to emotional decisions, not to mention she was as smart as a whip.
And she was right—we needed a plan. Luckily I knew just the person who could help us. “I have an idea,” I said. “I think I know someone who might know a thing or two about witches.”
Cheryl nodded. “I’ll get Martha to watch the place. I am sure she’ll rob me blind, but at least she’ll keep people from killing each other.”
Chapter 28
An hour later we were on a train heading to New Plymouth. It had been years since I’d seen my Pa. The last time had been at my mother’s funeral. He’d never fully forgiven me for not being the son he thought he deserved, and when I’d grown old enough to stop giving a shit what he thought—well that only made things between us stickier. After mother died, the distance only grew. I think the reason for our split was I reminded him of mother. Not that I could help it—nor did I want to. My dark hair and eyes, along with my dimples and upturned nose were the only things I had left of my mother.
Pa had no idea I was coming and I’d had no correspondence since Christmas, so I was hoping he lived in the same place. He’d surprised me after Mother’s death. He’d always been a cowboy in every since of the word—working as Sheriff of GloryLand City, and living on a ranch. When he’d begrudgingly handed the badge down to me, he and Mother had still kept up their ranch until her death. I’d figured he would have stayed put, but he’d sold his cattle and horses and moved two hours away (by train) to live in an apartment in the city. And New Plymouth was truly a city, not like the small settlement of New Duluth, which was on course with GloryLand. Barely a dot on a map.
Last time Pa had sent me a letter, he’d been working as a Black Jack dealer at a casino. I had his address memorized.
Tom and Cheryl followed me off the train and through the city. I knew for a fact Tom had never been to New Plymouth, and the rows and rows of buildings and never e
nding stream of people left him slack jawed and wide eyed.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Excuse me. Pardon me, sir,” he said every time he brushed against someone. People narrowed their eyes and recoiled as he apologized. “What a cute baby you got there, Ma’am,” he said, sticking his finger under an infant’s chin as the child’s mother passed by pushing a pram. The mother’s face twisted in concern and she slapped Tom across his cheeks, before hurrying away as fast as she could cut a path through the crowd.
“Seems to me city folk ain’t too nice,” Tom mumbled.
“Best to keep your hands to yourself, Deputy,” I said lightly. “You ain’t in GloryLand anymore.”
Cheryl’s expression was neutral and her gaze straight ahead. She walked with sure steps and stiff posture. I had no idea if she’d ever traveled to the city, but if she had, I was guessing it hadn’t been a good experience.
We pushed through town, and I navigated us by memory, only taking a wrong turn twice. We finally landed outside of the big green boarding house that bore my father’s street address.
“This won’t take long at all,” I told my companions.
I hoped Pa was home. I didn’t have time to chase him around town—especially one I wasn’t familiar with.
We bounded up the stairs and hammered on the door. “Pa, it’s Alyssa. Let me in. Come on. We are in a hurry.”
The door creaked open, the chain still in place. I didn’t know what he was worried about—the old man was as invincible as I was.
His beady, green eyes peered at me from beneath his bushy, gray brows. “What are you doing here?” I could smell the whiskey on his breath from where I stood.
“It’s good to see you too, Pa. Now open up.” I pushed against the door.
The old man snorted, then eased it closed. I heard the rustle of the chain, and then Pa opened it wide to let us inside.
He stood to the side and let us enter. First me, and then Cheryl, and then Tom.
Tom tipped his hat to my father. “Sheriff,” he said.
Having grown up in GloryLand, of course Tom knew my Pa. Or at least knew of him.
“Tom,” Pa growled. “I see you’re still alive and kickin’. Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t put money on them odds.”
“Be nice, Pa.” I narrowed my eyes at my father. He’d strongly disagreed when I’d deputized Tom—saying the man was too dumb and would get us both killed. His opposition was the driving force behind me going through with it.
“Ma’am.” Pa dipped his head at Cheryl. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. My Missus has been gone for over seven years now and I wasn’t expecting company.”
Pa lived in a single room. There was a bed in one corner and wash basin in the other. There was a fire place and a window, and about five ash trays littering a scratched and dented coffee table that sat alone in the middle of the room. A spittoon stood next to the bed, splattered with brown spit from Pa’s bad aim.
The place was a pig sty. Mama would have rolled over in her grave. The home where I grew up wasn’t fancy, but it was clean. I would have never gotten away with leaving my room in this shape.
“Nice place,” I snarked.
“It serves its purpose,” Pa replied. He gestured to the room. “I’d offer you a place to sit, but as you can see, this ain’t a place fit for entertaining. If I’d have known you were coming, we could have met somewhere decent.”
“Bull shit. If you’d have known we were coming you’d have made an excuse not to see me. Or hid. Or simply not opened the door. Let’s be honest now, Pa.”
He stared daggers through my face. “What do you want Alyssa?”
“I need your help.”
Pa’s brows drew together on his wrinkled forehead. “You ain’t ever needed anyone’s help in your life.” He looked pointedly at Tom.
He didn’t know me at all or he would know how untrue of a statement that was. Maybe I was tough—but that didn’t mean I didn’t need help. There’d been more than once when Tom had picked off a gunman I’d missed. There’d been times when Cheryl had listened to me complain about the lack of respect I got and how I had to work three times as hard for the little I got—I’d needed her listening ear plenty of times. And more than anyone I’d needed Jon. Jon who’d kept me centered. Focused. Jon who’d made me feel loved, even when I was in denial about it.
Jon who was dying on a whore’s floor two town’s away and waiting on my return.
“Trust me when I tell you it wasn’t easy for me to come here, Pa. But I do need your help. Do you remember the time Mama brought home the witch?”
Pa recoiled. “Shoshana? Why would you say her name?” He spit on the floor. “Jesus, Alyssa. Of all the people to ask about—you bring up that abomination.”
“Ma helped her! They were friends! I remember her being kind to me.”
“Your mother couldn’t ever stand to see a hurting stray. She had a tender heart. Shoshana preyed on that.”
“What do you mean?”
Tom and Cheryl remained quiet, standing silent and still on the sidelines.
“I mean Lucille was never the same after Shoshana left. She was more outspoken—more prone to outbursts. And I...” His voice trailed off. Pa exhaled and suddenly he looked like an old man. A sad old man. His face was cut with deep wrinkles and his long gray hair was limp and oily. His paunch of a belly rolled over the waistband of his trousers and his shoulders slouched. He was a tired, sad, old man. Nothing more.
“After Shoshana left—my powers left too.”
I gasped. “No. But Pa...you never said anything...you were still the Sheriff.”
“What would I say? I had a reputation to uphold. And with my little girl becoming Sheriff in my footsteps, I couldn’t have people thinking that there was a way to rob us of our birthright. What if someone wanted to hurt you bad enough to make a deal with a witch?” His voice rose with each word and I could see the truthful panic in his eyes. He meant every word.
“So you can be—”
“I can be hurt. Just like anyone else. And it is all because of that witch, Shoshana. You never trust a witch, Alyssa. It won’t end well.”
Tom and Cheryl still didn’t speak, but I could tell Tom’s ears had pricked up. He was only about eight years older than me, and like most little boys he’d grown up with a healthy dose of hero worship for the Sheriff, I knew he was amazed at what he was hearing. Hell, I was amazed at what we were hearing.
“How, Pa? How could a witch take your power?”
“It all started when we got that good for nothing devil woman in the house. Your mama nursed her back to health. After a few weeks she regained her health and was preparing to leave.
Just before heading on her way, she gave your mama a box and told her if she ever needed anything to open it. That there is a stone inside and to contact her, all you have to do is burn the stone. Well, I don’t know if you remember this, but that was the year your Mama had broken her leg. She healed right fine eventually, but it had freaked me out something terrible. I was worried she wouldn’t be able to walk, or worse, get the infection.”
Pa sighed. “So I’d stepped in and told Shoshana that as payment for her stay in my home, I had a request. I told her that I wanted your mama to be as invincible as me. That I wanted for her to possess all the power I possessed. I’d hoped we would grow old and healthy together. Instead, though, over the course of the next year, my power slowly drained until it was all gone. She made me and your mama equals alright—but not in the way I’d meant. By the time it was done I was powerless. And you can see how invincible your Ma was. She was taken from the fever just like anyone else.” His face hardened and he again spit on the floor. “Never trust a witch, Alyssa.”
My eyes widened at the revelation. So Pa hadn’t had power in a long while. I knew at some point he’d seemed to change—but I could never put my finger on exactly when. “But...did you ever use the stone to summon her and try to get your power back?”
“No. I learned my l
esson. I hope you’ll learn from it, too.” He turned at looked at Tom and Cheryl. “I hope all of you will learn from it. Leave here and never deal with a witch. Whatever it is you think you need, I can promise you that you don’t.”
I shook my head. “No. That isn’t an option. I know dealings with the devils ain’t ever ideal—but Jon’s eternity is at stake.”
One of Pa’s brows raised. “What do you mean?”
I filled him in on Jon and the witches and Jacoby and all of it. Pa had always had a soft spot for Jon. Jon was quiet and powerful—two things Pa admired.
He said nothing when I finished my story, only turned and opened and old wardrobe. He shuffled around inside until he pulled out a teakwood box. It was covered in dust and more ornate than anything else in the tiny boarding room. It was carved with symbols and runes and was darkened with age.
“Here. I ain’t exactly sure what you can expect. All I know is to burn the stone. But Alyssa, not here. I am done with witches. I hope things work out for Jon—he is a good man—but I can’t have no more witchcraft in my life.” He looked at me sadly. “I was supposed to spend forever with your mama. That was why I asked for what I did. I lost my powers, and eventually your mama, too.”
He held out the box and I took it as if it were a prized treasure, because in a way that is exactly what it was.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. Without spending any more time than was absolutely necessary, we left. Jon’s soul depended on it.
Chapter 29
We took the train back to GloryLand to leave from there, since New Plymouth was in the opposite direction of where I needed to be. The moon was high in the sky and I clasped the box as we rode into the desert. Since we didn’t know what to expect, as soon as we were far enough from town, we would build the fire and see what happened.
To be on the safe side, we rode for a good hour into the desert toward the mountain before dismounting and starting a campfire. Once it was blazing with blue heat, I opened the box. The stone inside was unremarkable. It was gray and smooth and could have been a stone from any creek bed. For a moment I considered if that is all it was, that we’d been the victims of a trick, either by Pa or by the witch, Shoshana. I knew that witches were often deceiving. Things that seemed ordinary seldom were. Things that seemed magical often weren’t. So, without another thought, I tossed the stone into the fire.