by Jon Sharpe
“Then the gossips’ll keep on whispering.”
“Let ’em whisper.”
“Then you’re saying you don’t know anything about these disappearances?”
Noah frowned. “You may hate me—and I suspect you do—but do you really believe I’d have something to do with people disappearing? Some kind of white slavery ring or something? Is that what you’ve got in mind?”
“It was a fair question.”
“And I gave you a fair answer.”
Noah stood up. Winced. “Damned arthritis.” He glared at Tom. “I’ve got spies everywhere, Tom. People may not like me much but they protect me. Because when they protect me, they protect themselves, their jobs, and this peaceable town and the future for their children. So they don’t appreciate anybody, including my own adopted son, tryin’ to snoop into the little privacy I have in life.”
“So you wouldn’t like it if I asked some more questions?”
Noah jabbed a finger at him. “I got you this job. You don’t remember that. But I did. And you know why I did? Because I figured you’d be good at it. And you are. You’re the smartest lawman we’ve ever had here. And from what I hear, you’re also fair. Even the people who don’t care for you say that. Say that you don’t play favorites. They also say you’re not mean, the way some lawmen are.”
Noah started walking to the door. “But you know what? Quick as you got that badge of yours, I could take it away. I could go over to a town council meeting and ask for a private session and then I’d lay out some charges against you—tell them that I hated to do this, you being my stepson and all—and you know what? You’d be out of a job within an hour. They’d find some law on the books that made you ineligible to be sheriff anymore. And you’d be out on your ass.”
“I take it that’s a threat?”
A look of frustration twisted Noah’s face. “All I’m saying, boy, is that you’re doing a good job. Most people like you. You could have a great future. But just let this island thing go. Forget about it. There’s sure a hell of a lot of other work to do, isn’t there? You can just quit wasting your time on rumors. Because there’s nothing to them.” He opened the door. It seemed impossible. The office got even hotter in the few seconds the scorching, dusty wind blew in. A look of reason on his face now. “There’s not one damned thing to those rumors, son. Not one damned thing.”
Noah left.
And now Tom knew for sure that something terrible was going on out there on Skeleton Key. Otherwise the old man wouldn’t have made such a fuss about it.
Liz took down the dagger that had been her husband’s pride. The blade was five inches long, the hilt burnished cooper with a cross carved on the handle. They’d bought it in St. Louis soon after they were married. It was said to have been blessed by the Pope in Italy, where it was crafted. Because of the blessing, the shopkeeper explained, no harm would come to anybody who carried it.
Richard always took it along when he knew that a situation was going to be risky. It had kept him safe. But the night he’d been killed, he’d had no reason to take it along. While he was looking into Skeleton Key, at that particular time he was just doing his regular work. No reason to think he’d be ambushed.
She pressed the dagger to her breast now, in sweet memory of her husband. Tom was so much like him. She was blessed that she’d found two such men in her life.
Now that she was home for the day, she began preparing for tonight. She’d wear brown butternuts and a black shirt. She’d cinch her hair back so that it wouldn’t get in the way. And she’d carry a handgun—and the dagger with the special blessing.
Even on Skeleton Key, the dagger would keep her alive. She was sure of it.
19
Fargo said, “Any caves on this island?”
“Two or three,” Nancy said. “But they aren’t very big. We thought of that, too. But the dogs would find us right away and kill us.”
Fargo smoked his cigarette. Aiming the smoke in a narrow stream at the rough hewn roof of the log cabin. “You ever notice any place in the forest where water backed up in a real small area?”
“Can’t think of any place offhand. Why?”
“Sometimes islands have underground passages that lead to the water. I got trapped in a place like this once before. This Apache I was with got us free that way.”
“I wish I could think of something like that.”
“And you never heard of any way of tricking those dogs?”
“Are you kidding? They couldn’t be tricked by anybody. They want to kill people. That’s all they think about. Even when they’re sort of lazing in their dog runs, the way they watch you—” She shook her head. “They’re the scariest things I’ve ever run up against, Fargo.”
Fargo was quiet for a time. She was probably right. Even if the dogs weren’t invincible, a man couldn’t outrun them. About all he could do was shoot them, which was hard to do if you didn’t have a gun.
The underground stream had been one idea. What were others? He wondered. He closed his eyes. Tried to picture the glimpse of the forest he’d gotten on his way in here.
He studied the mental picture carefully. The dock was out. So was any shoreline. And Nancy had ruled out caves as a place to hole up and avoid getting killed. If a man got lucky, he might be able to find the right kind of rock to crush a dog’s head with. The trouble with that was, even if you managed to ultimately kill the dog, the toll on the man would be considerable. Might lose an arm or a leg. He might kill the dog—and get himself killed in the process.
That left one possibility: the trees. There might be a way that you could find trees strong enough that you could cross them, one to another, at their very tops. It would take time, skill, and most of all luck. But right away you’d eliminate the danger of the dogs. And Noah and Burgade would have a hell of a time shooting you if you were up high enough and constantly moving among heavily leafed branches.
“What’re you thinking, Fargo?”
“Just running through ideas.”
“I’m glad they captured you.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m being selfish, I know. But the other men they kidnapped and brought here—you mentioned Daisy. All her brother could do was taunt Burgade, which wasn’t smart. Then he got dumb enough to try and race the dogs to the water. You’ve never seen anything uglier than what those dogs did to him.” She leaned across from her cot to his and kissed him on the mouth. “I’m sorry I said that I’m glad they captured you. I’m just glad we’ve got a man here finally who’s got some ideas.”
“Just because I’ve got the ideas doesn’t mean that they’ll work out.”
“Well, at least you’re not thinking of racing the dogs to the water.”
He frowned. “Poor bastard. He must’ve been pretty desperate.”
“He was more worried about his sister than he was himself. I’ll say that for him. That’s why he had to get off the island he told us—to save his sister before they found her and killed her.”
The new picture in his mind was the face of Ekert. The Trailsman owed Ekert a death—his own. And the same for Noah. How degenerate, how jaded, how perverted could you get—hunting your own species as sport. You didn’t even have the excuse of war. You were just having a good time. He owed Noah Tillman a death, too—and he was damned well going to pay off.
“I’m going to get a little more shut-eye,” he said. “Maybe by then they’ll be back and it’ll be our turn.”
“Maybe we can get Burgade’s rifle from him and blow his ugly face off.”
Fargo grinned. “You’re my kind of woman.”
They left late in the afternoon, Burgade, the dogs, and Nancy and Fargo. Burgade had given Nancy the key and she’d unshackled both herself and the Trailsman.
It was funny how serene the place was, Fargo thought, when you looked straight ahead and forgot about the rifle and dogs at your back. Most of the island was land that was untouched by white men. No timber had been chopped. No tre
nches dug. No shanties or shacks erected. Pure wild forest. And at this time of day, with the sun beginning to sink, there was a sense of completion, as if all the animals and birds were knocking off work after a hard day in the woods.
The illusion of tranquility was ended soon when Fargo heard Nancy curse. She pointed to a pile of bones just off the trail. Human bones long ago picked clean by various animals—whatever small pieces of meat the dogs had been too sated to eat themselves.
“Good old Burgade and his filthy dogs,” she said. She didn’t cringe from the sight. It obviously just reminded her all over again of how much she hated Burgade. She was a tough woman. No tears. Just rage. Fargo liked that.
Trees soared to the sky. Gnarled, clinging, tangled vegetation covered everything off the path they were traveling. The air was thick with the scents of wildflowers and mint leaves and loam. Butterflies and small birds of brilliant hues soared and dove in play. At a glance, there seemed to be a dozen places that looked like good spots to hide. But this was illusory. The dogs would find you instantly.
To the north were limestone cliffs, to the south a valley that stretched almost the entire width of the island. The valley was covered with a colorful variety of vegetation. What intrigued Fargo was how close its far perimeter was to the water. His eyes searched for trees. If you could elude the dogs by climbing a tree and then diving from a tree into the water.
But life was rarely that simple. No trees grew along this particular stretch of shoreline. You would still have the problem of trying to outrace the dogs to the water. And you’d lose.
When they reached a tiny clearing, Burgade planted his ass on a small boulder and said, “Go on ahead and look around all you want. I need to keep my strength for tonight. Noah always likes me to go along with him. I’ll send the dogs along to keep you company.”
The dogs.
Fargo wasn’t sure what cross-mixture of breeds they were exactly. They were the size of adult greyhounds but their coats were shiny black. Their eyes were a faintly ruby color. Easy to see why the sisters called them demons. Cold, silver spittle constantly dripped from their long snouts and the low rumble in their chest cavities was ceaseless. What struck Fargo most about the dogs was their lack of personality. Play had been trained out of them; and so had most other kinds of dog pleasures, including affection for humans. They were machines and nothing more, their behavior dictated by their trainer and master.
They set off without Burgade.
In the next forty-five minutes, Nancy showed him the caves she’d mentioned, the one possibility that just might be an underground stream, but wasn’t, and then a variety of places where they might lie in ambush and turn the tables on Noah and Burgade. The trouble again being the dogs. They might knock out or even kill Noah and Burgade with rocks but the animals would still be there.
He spent a third of their time near the shoreline inspecting the trees. Because the birches were so close together, they offered the fastest escape route. You could use two trees at the same time if you needed to, thereby insuring not only speed but relative safety from falling. The other trees he saw were too thick or too flimsy. What the birches lacked was the heavy leafing of some of the other trees. It wouldn’t be easy to hide at the top of them. But then, he decided, no matter which kind of tree they elected, the dogs could sniff them out, anyway. What they’d have to do was reach the top of the trees and then start climbing from tree top to tree top until they reached trees whose leaves would hide them adequately.
And then what? Fargo wondered. He hadn’t thought beyond finding a hiding place. But if they could put themselves in a place that would keep them away from the dogs, at least there’d been the hope of surviving the night. Maybe some turn of good luck, some unexpected opportunity might save them.
“You look sort of devious, Fargo,” Nancy joked.
“Just part of my personality,” he smiled. “Being devious.”
“You see any way to avoid getting killed tonight?”
“I’m working on it.”
“My sister and I always act like it never gets to us. Being on this island, I mean. We made a pact when we were kidnapped that we’d keep our spirits up. But now that I know we’re probably going to die tonight—”
He slid his arm around her. “Don’t think about it.”
“Is that how you handle it? Not being scared?”
“Who says I’m not scared? But I’m sure as hell not going to give up without a fight.”
She slid out from under his comforting arm. “There. That’s exactly what I needed. A little kick in the behind to get me going again. I’m mad—I’d like to tear Burgade apart with my hands—and I plan to stay mad.” She made fists, serious ones. Fargo had no doubt that she could throw a solid punch. “Now, tell me what’s going on in that devious mind of yours.”
“How are you at climbing trees?”
“Well, Steph and I were pretty much tomboys when we were growing up. We could outrun, out punch and out climb every boy in our little town. The ones who were our age, anyway. Why?”
“Because that’s what I’m working on.”
He gave her his theory about how climbing the trees would keep the dogs at bay for a while and might just give them time to figure out a way to kill Noah and Burgade.
“I like all this, Fargo. But you haven’t figured out what to do about the dogs yet. I mean, we get down from the tree. And there they are, waiting for us. Then what?”
“That’s the part I’m still working on.”
“Well,” she said, “you’d better work fast.”
20
The supper was downright delicious. Slices of beef, baked potato, green beans. Real restaurant repast. Even the dishes the meal was served on were of café quality.
“I told you they fed us well,” Stephanie said.
Burgade had left them all unshackled. He joked that it was the least he could do since they were going to be dead in a few hours.
They ate in an empty corner of the log cabin. Sitting on the floor.
“Maybe he put something in the food,” Aaron said.
“Like what?” Fargo asked.
“You know, some kind of herb or something that’ll slow us down tonight when we’re trying to escape my dear brother Noah and his dogs. I sure wouldn’t put it past him.”
They all looked at their food.
“Thanks, Aaron,” Nancy said. “I was actually enjoying this food until you said that.”
“Yeah, thanks Aaron,” her sister said in the same sarcastic tone.
“Well, we might as well enjoy it,” Fargo said, “being that we’ve all eaten at least half of our meals.”
Aaron frowned. “You know, my friend, your optimism could get me down. We’re probably less than three hours from our death and you’re making jokes.”
“Well, there won’t be any time for jokes after we die, Aaron. We might as well tell ’em now.”
Nancy, trying to alleviate the sudden tension, “Tell him about the trees, Fargo.”
“Yes, and while you’re at it, tell me about the birds and bees, too.” He laughed. “Sorry I got so cranky there, Fargo. All the times in my miserable life I thought I wanted to die but when I come right up against it—I really want to live. I’ve got a bad case of nerves.” He nodded to Nancy. “I hope our beautiful young companion means that you’ve got some foolproof escape plan.”
“If I had a foolproof escape plan, I’d already be gone,” Fargo said.
He went over his plan. He’d added a new angle since talking about it to Nancy. “Since we don’t have any weapons, we talked about pelting them with rocks. Maybe knocking them out.”
“Or killing the bastards,” Stephanie said.
“Right,” Fargo laughed, “or killing the bastards if you happen to be as bloodthirsty as Stephanie. But now I’ve added to the idea. What if we set them up for a trap. Maybe hitting them with rocks would work then.”
“How do we set up a trap?” Aaron said. “They’ve got the do
gs and the guns.”
“They give us a head start, I hear.”
“Fifteen minutes,” Stephanie said. “They’re so generous.”
“All right. So what if we try this?” Fargo said. “We know where the tree branches are thickest with leaves. What if I run on ahead of you three, pick out a tree, carry as many rocks as I can up with me, and then start firing at them as soon as they reach the tree.”
“What makes you think they’ll stop at that particular tree?” Aaron said.
“You’re going to lead them there. You’re going to make all the noise you can and they’re going to come after you. Then you start scrambling up the birches before they get to me. When they get there, they’ll be confused, wondering where you folks are. Then I hit them with the rocks.”
“They’ll kill you,” Nancy said.
“All they’ll have to do is point their rifles up there and start blasting away,” Stephanie said. “Even if they can’t see you, they’re bound to hit you eventually.”
“I appreciate your concern, ladies, but I don’t see that we have much choice.”
“You’re a braver man than I am,” Aaron said.
“That wouldn’t take a whole hell of a lot,” Nancy said.
“I’m a lot younger and spryer than Aaron here. If he was my age, I’m sure he’d do it. So let’s not go calling each other names.”
“I’m sorry, Aaron,” Nancy said. “That was a mean thing to say. I guess I’ve got a bad case of nerves, too.”
“Apology accepted. And I agree with you, Nancy. Even if I was Fargo’s age, I doubt I’d have the nerve for what he’s proposing.”
“I’m more than proposing it,” Fargo said. “I’m going to do it. And for what it’s worth, it’s not going to be all that simple for you, either. You’ve got to scramble up those trees before the dogs get a scent of you.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Stephanie said.