"I'm not surprised about that. No on wants to go after him. He's a woman killer….a crazy man…" Wesley furnished a description.
"I'm sorry….truly, I'm sorry, Wesley, I know how you cared for the lady." John T. exclaimed, tossing the name repeatedly in his head as though he should know him. He silently noted the words Wesley used, woman killer. That sure rang a bell. So much so, it sent a cold chill through John T. Yeah, he knew what vengeance was. He knew it well.
"Cared for her. I loved her. Would have married her if Rascal hadn't. When I left the Rangers I came straight a long up here to warn Rascal about Frank. I warned him…and she is still dead. Now I gotta find the man and kill him. I have been after him since I left the Rangers. Close to catchin' him a couple of times."
John T. looked down at his dust-covered boots, the ones he never replaced. "What happened?"
"Don't matter I'm gonna kill the son of a…."
"We'll get him…." John T. nodded.
"You bet we will…" Wesley promised. "Let's go in the house and rustle up some grub those kids are starved and Rascal ain't worth shootin' right now."
After introducing John T., Rascal, and Wesley talked in low voices, John walked up to the dead lady to pay his respects. She was a beautiful lady, laid out in a purple dress. Then…he saw it. He did a double take, as though he couldn't quite believe it…her ring finger was gone. He blinked hard, maybe he wasn't seeing right. Her dress was all but covering it from him, so he reached gently to move the material away from her hand. What he feared stared blatantly back at him. It was gone…it had been hacked off. A nice clean cut, as though practiced. He stared disbelieving for a long minute or two. He blinked again, forcing himself to focus on that ring finger. There was no ring. The woman looked elegant. And his body began to shake. At first just a little, and then it racked.
Instantly he turned around and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Jesus, it's him!"
Tears ran down John T.'s face and he slumped to the floor in a heap. He sobbed so loud and so hard even the kids joined him. He covered his head and cried. The kids ran over to him, grabbed him as though he were part of their family, and cried right along with him. Rascal and Wesley stared down at him with their mouths open. For a minute they didn't move. Then they heard him mutter. "After all this time….he's still alive to do this…"
Wesley ran over to him followed quickly by Rascal, their expression confused and concerned for their friend. "John T., what is it? What's worryin' you boy?"
John T. looked up at him through tear stained eyes. He shook his head as though he still couldn't believe it. "This man you been lookin' for is….the one that killed my mother. He's the man I've been after all this time… The one I told you about the first day. Until this day I never had a name to put to the deed. We've got to stop him…"
Wesley frowned and then got on his knees with his friend, as though he wouldn't embarrass him by standing and thought to console him. Rascal followed. "I'm sorry boy, I didn't know. But don't you fret none, we'll get him. You and me…and maybe even Rascal here."
"You damned right we will. I want to know the whole bloody story…" John T. insisted, not bothering to wipe away the tears.
Wesley nodded. "I don't know it all, but there's someone who does. We'll go see him."
"Who?"
"An old Sheriff, he's the one that first arrested Victor Frank, and he's got the whole story. This time, we won't stop until it's done." Wesley assured John T.
John T. stood up, wiped his eyes, "Can we leave in the morning?"
"Nope, not tomorrow. We gotta bury Susannah tomorrow…right proper like and then we'll head out." Wesley instructed.
John T. nodded. "Now I want to know every thing you can tell me about what happened here." John T. looked at Rascal.
Rascal studied the floor a long time, his eyes full of tears, then he slowly nodded, "I'll tell you the best I can, son. But first let's rustle up some grub and get these kids fed and to bed, then I'll tell everything I know…"
John T. nodded, and wiped his eyes, then patted the boys on the head and smiled at the girl. The little girl still had hold of his hand. It was a tight hold, so tight he stared down into her face. She didn't seem to want to let go. John T. didn't mind either.
None of them were good cooks, but they knew how to make some cornbread and pour big heaps of sweet milk over it. The kids ate in silence, no one complained.
The little girl looked up at John T. after a long silence. "Is…my ma comin' back?" She asked the question like a prayer, and as though John T. knew the answer to her question. Trust reflected in her eyes.
John T. licked his lips, trying to figure out how to answer that question to a child. With a lump in his throat he knew exactly how she felt. Years ago, he'd felt the same. And today he felt the same.
"Honey…your ma…why, she's gone to a great place. She's gone to heaven…" John T. tried to explain. Suddenly he remembered some of the things his mother had taught him to believe in and tried to smile at the little girl. His tears were barely dry on his own face as he studied the little girl. Her big blue eyes were full of tears, and her pigtails were coming loose, but she was beautiful.
"Where's heaven?" Sally suddenly asked.
"Come here," he pulled her to him and they walked to the door, where he peered out into the heavens. "It's way up there, in the sky and it's about as pretty a place as there is. There's no hurts, no sorrows, no sadness. That's where she is… And the angels sing all day."
Sally thought about that, then put her arm around John T. "Will she come back?" She stood at the open doorway staring up at the sky.
John T. shook his head slowly. "No honey…you wouldn't want her to come back…she's in a real special place."
"But I miss her…" Sally cried. "I miss my mommy…"
John T. sighed, "Sure you do." He picked her up in his arms and smiled again. "And someday…you'll see her again…"
"I will…?" The little girl asked, staring into John T.'s face with her mouth open in surprise.
"Someday a long time from now, you'll see her again…I'm sure of that." John T. promised and kissed the top of her head.
"Are you my Uncle, like Uncle Wesley?" the little girl asked putting her hand on his shoulder.
John T. smiled into the beautiful blue eyes, "I guess it would be okay to call me Uncle. I sure wouldn't mind…"
"Good…" she smiled finally and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then scampered away eager to tell her brothers about where her mother was.
When the kids finally settled in for the night, the three men sat about the fire, trying to ignore the woman in the casket. It was hard to ignore the dead though. All eyes turned toward her off and on as they spoke.
"Now tell me…what happened?" John T. demanded to know.
Rascal had to figure out how to tell them he guessed because he swallowed hard and took several deep breaths.
John T.'s eyes wandered around the small cabin, noting the female touches in the place, like the curtains hanging over the windows and the quilts by the fire. It was a simple cabin, but it felt so homey. He understood what kind of woman Susannah was just by the looks of the cabin and the sweetness of her children.
John T. glanced at the woman again, and realized why Wesley cared so much for her, she was a real lady.
Wesley kept glancing over at the body, but John T. was glued to the fireside now, ready for everything he could get out of Rascal.
"Bren told the story, at least a little of it. It was around noon, I guess, 'cause I was outside feedin' the stock. Bren, my boy must have let the fella inside the house. Either that or Jimmy did. Susannah wouldn't have opened the door to a stranger, besides, Wesley had already warned us about him bein' about, so she would have barred the door for sure."
Wesley shot Rascal a glance, "You told her?"
"Had to. She knew you were after somebody, and I figured if I did she might be a little more careful."
"Go on…" John T. urged. "Then what hap
pened."
"But Joel wouldn't have known any better. We couldn't tell the kids, they'd have been scared witless. Anyway, she hollered at Bren, that's when he commenced. I guess she hollered at him for lettin' a stranger in the house. It'd be in Bren's nature to let him in, help him in any way he could. Because Bren said the minute she hollered at him, the man seemed to go crazy. Just like that. Like that triggered him. Bren tried to stop him, bit him on the hand, kicked him in the shins, but it weren't enough. He choked her to death in seconds, I reckon. Bren seen it all. I reckon, 'cause he couldn't talk for an hour or more for the cryin'. The fella was about to leave when he turned to Bren and told him flat out…"You're better…"
"Off without her…" John T. finished.
"How'd you know that?" Rascal's eyes widened.
"That's what he told me years ago…I couldn't forget those words. I watched him kill her, watched him cut off her finger, just like Ms. Susannah's and then he turned to me, looked into my eyes, and said, "Your better off without her."
Rascal shook his head. He grimaced and shut his eyes for a minute. Tears stained them as he opened them. "Bren started yellin' as soon as he left and took a while to find me out in the pasture. I ran as fast as I could, but it was too late. She was already gone. But Bren…he just stood there watchin' and cryin' and I couldn't make him feel any better, no matter what I did."
"Did you see him, get a look at him?" John T. asked.
"No, he was gone. Bren saw him. He said he had the worst lookin' face he'd ever seen. He said…he kinda felt sorry for him." Rascal explained. "That's Bren though, he's got feelings fer people like that."
Wesley nodded now. "That's him alright."
"We'll be headin' out the day after the funeral," John T. announced without even looking at Wesley.
"I'd like to go along," Rascal said.
Wesley shook his head, "You cain't go. You gotta stay with those youngins. They need you now. What with their Ma gone…"
"I can get a woman to look after them…I want to go…" Rascal insisted. "Need to go…"
Wesley studied him a moment, "If you can find someone to take care of them, I reckon you can go."
The fire flickered and a spark flew up and popped in the air. It was a familiar sound but all three men jumped as though a ghost had come through the door. Wesley looked at Susannah one last time, his eyes full of tears, his head shaking. He couldn't speak, the lump in his throat hurt too much.
"Rascal, I ain't never said this before aloud…never intended to say it in front of you…but I loved her too…" Wesley cried out.
Rascal bent his head and joined his friend in front of the casket; he reached over and put an arm on Wesley shoulder. "I knowed it, Wesley. So did she. It was between us all these years, but she was a good woman, Wesley. She worried after you all the time. Cain't say I wasn't jealous a time or two, but she was a good woman, a good wife, and a wonderful mother."
"Amen."
"She sure didn't deserve this," John T. joined them. "No woman deserves this."
After a long silence Wesley's face grew even more serious. "This fella ain't right in the head. And the two of you gotta understand that right now. It's intolerable to understand. I gotta feelin' about that. What he does, it ain't natural. He just don't kill for the same reasons most killers do. We gotta go slow, get all the facts, not jump the gun. We got to get him, even if it means we ain't comin' back."
Sarah came to John T.'s mind just then. He loved her and he wanted to provide for her, but right now, he didn't see how that could happen. What ate at him was that he hadn't told her how he loved her. Until Frank was caught, he couldn't see anything but the man's death ahead of him.
Chapter Six
The preacher spoke but the rain seemed to drown his words from his lips. It was as though God himself were crying.
Not a day for burying the likes of her, Wesley thought. It didn't matter, the three somber faced men stood staring at the casket being lowered into ground, as the children crowded around, crying for their mother. Words of comfort just didn't come. How could they comfort the children, they couldn't understand it themselves. The creaking sound that the casket made seemed to haunt everyone. Then the thud when it hit the bottom of the hole.
The tall young preacher came to stand in front of Rascal, he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, shook his head and said, "God forgive for what I'm thinking this day….but I'm so sorry for you and your family Rascal."
Rascal nodded numbly.
Loneliness surrounded them.
The children clung to all three men as a few neighbors came to pay their respects. One woman stopped and offered to take care of the children, Rascal knew her well, as she lived on the hill just down the road from him. Rascal nodded. "Tomorrow I'd appreciate you lookin' after them Emma Mae until I return. I'll leave you some supplies to feed 'em and my milk cow."
"That'd be plenty…I'll look for them tomorrow then, and words can't tell ya how I feel just now, she was my friend…" the woman choked up and pulled a hankie from her pocket. She shook her head and walked away. Then suddenly she turned around and looked at the three of them, "You will get him…won't you?"
"We'll do our best…." Wesley replied.
"It's such a shame," another woman wailed. "What kind of man could do this…to a woman?"
"He ain't a man, he's a monster." Wesley cried as tears slipped silently down his cheek to blend with the rain.
"You get him…you hear…you get this…monster," The woman shouted and turned and left.
After a few had paid their respects, the three men and children stood there staring at the hole in the ground as the gravediggers began to throw mud on the casket. It didn't seem right to cover someone with mud. The thudding sound made them all cringe. A chapter in Rascal and Wesley life lay under that mud, a closed chapter.
"Susannah?" John T. stared at the hole and shook his head slowly; Rascal looked up at him and waited for his words of comfort. "I swear on my mother's grave, I'll get the man that did this…"
Wesley and Rascal picked up the two smallest kids and Rascal reached for the third when his son ran and grabbed John T's hand. When his father's head turned in question he explained."I think someone better hold his hand too, Pa." Bren said.
Wesley and Rascal nodded.
John T. looked grimly down into the youngster's face. "Thanks…"
Some of the women brought food by the place for Rascal and his family, leaving it in the kitchen for them. Food was the last thing on their minds that tormenting night. There were no words to comfort them, so the people didn't stay. When the rain stopped the wind picked up adding a lonely concert to the night.
John T. glanced over at Wesley as the last child was put to bed that evening. They had clung to them so; it was hard making them go away from them, for there was solace in numbers. Rascal prayed with them, told them he loved them, and started to leave.
"Pa, please come back to us….alive…" Bren whispered so no one else could hear.
"I'll do my best, son, I'll do my best. Now don't you fret, leave it in the hands of the Lord. That's what your Ma would say…"
"Yes sir…"
In the other room Wesley and John T. sat staring out the dark window. The wooden shutters rattled so badly John T. got up and closed them. The wind continued to sieve through the cracks. Like a lonesome whistler.
"Got any ideas on how we're going to go about this?" John T. glanced at Wesley.
Wesley nodded slowly, his fist barely pounding on the table.
Rascal got out the whiskey and poured them all a drink, "I hope so."
"It ain't gonna be easy, I can tell you that now. For some reason the law hadn't been too hot on his trail. I don't know why, maybe because he's crazy and they're scared of a crazy man. But we've got to find him, before it happens again."
"So where do we start?" John T. demanded to know as he fingered his whiskey glass.
"There's things you don't know about him, John T." Wesley began. "Thi
ngs I haven't got the guts to tell you about him. And things I don't rightly know for sure. But we'll have to find out."
"What things, can't you tell us?"
"I know some, yes…" Wesley paused looking around the room.
"Are you gonna tell us?" John T wanted to know.
"Not yet." Wesley sighed. "It's better left for later. We need to survive this night and get through it. We don't need more nightmares. Victor Frank is a story all by himself."
When the two men stared at him he explained. "Okay, I can see you two aren't gonna be satisfied until you hear it. Look I'm as anxious as anyone to put an end to him, but you have to keep things in their place. Tonight is just not the night to talk of such. Not for me any how, and I'm sure not for Rascal. There is so much to know, so much to tell, but I know one thing….lawmen aren't going to go after this man. I've waited for a while now, and even when I did manage to drag his name into a conversation with the law, it was quickly put on the back burner. There's reasons of course. He's not right with the world. It ain't as though he's a gunman that needs teaching a lesson. He's no fast draw that we have to get. He's more a half-witted monster. The law don't know how to handle men like that. They don't even want him in their jails. There is no place for him, not out here. People like him; they gotta be killed that's all. So when we do find him, we got to kill him. We got to agree on that, right now. No matter what happens. That understood. Shoot to kill, not wound. Don't think about it, just do it. So…the way I see it, it's up to us. The three of us. What we have to do, is question your neighbors Rascal, about whether he was seen in this area. If so what he was ridin', how he looked. What kind of gun he wears, stuff like that. The more we know, the easier it will be when we do find him." Wesley gulped his whiskey in one swallow, and motioned for more. "There's a retired Sheriff, lives in Waco, we'll talk to him, it seems he knows the whole story and can put us straight. But what we have to do is find him. And that won't be easy."
"My kid could probably tell you most of what you need," Rascal said after a long silence. "I just sorta hate to ask him…it's a lot to ask of the boy."
Better Off Without Her (Book One of the Western Serial Killer series) Page 8