"That's true; do you think he's able to talk about it, yet?" Wesley eyed him sharply.
"I don't know, but I guess we have no choice in the matter."
"All right then, in the morning we'll talk to him first." Wesley watched as Rascal poured him another drink. "We'll be gentle as we can on the boy. You know that Rascal."
"To Susannah and findin' Victor Frank…" Wesley posed his glass in front of them.
The glasses clinked and the men downed the last of the whiskey.
"We better get a good night's sleep. We are gonna need it." John T. said as he set his glass on the table.
"That's for sure and certain son," Wesley nodded.
Rascal seemed to stay there in the kitchen a little longer and Wesley saw his face, a tear rolled down Rascal's cheek as he glanced around the small kitchen and shook his head. "I miss her already."
Wesley nodded, and put his arm around Rascal for a second, "So do I…this old house just don't seem the same…."
It was a long night, and Rascal slept in his bedroom with his kids and Wesley and John T. bunked in the kid's room. There was a lot of tossing and turning, but sleep wasn't a part of this night. It was a night of silent tears, of putting fears to rest and of finding the gut awful determination to kill this man.
* * *
"Bren, you know your Pa wouldn't ask this of you if it weren't important, don't you?" Wesley asked the young boy who stood staring with tears in his eyes looking from his father to Wesley.
"I know… but…I been trying hard not to cry, not to be a baby, to be a man….but it was all my fault." He cried openly unable to hold back the hurt of that day any longer.
"Woe now, no one's pointin' no finger at you, boy. This was one bad man and we need to catch him before he hurts anyone else. So you gotta help us. It's important that you remember everything you can. Anything you can. Your Ma…well, your Ma would want you to speak up and tell us. 'Cause this fella is mighty dangerous and can do this again, somewhere. Don't you see?"
The boy quieted and nodded, he swiped his eyes and firmed his lips, and his voice shook at first, and then steadied. "Okay…I'll tell you all I know."
The boy sat down because his knees would no longer hold him. He hunched over, but he firmed his lips and then looked up into his fathers red eyes. "He rode up from the hill, straight at me on that horse that the likes I never seen. He rode up on a Black stallion not an ordinary horse. That was plain to see. Solid black, like the devil hisself." The boy cried out. "Even the horse looked mean. But as ugly as the man was he seemed to smile at me and I thought…well, I thought he was all right. Mama always said a man that can smile can't be all bad."
"That's real helpful boy, go on…" John T. encouraged.
"I never seen a horse like that before, like I said. I guess that's why I started talking to him in the first place. He looked around the place. He spoke to me, had a real high-pitched voice. Never heard a human with such a high-pitched voice before. Kind of hurt to listen to him." The boy looked from one man to the other. "I couldn’t help it Pa….I couldn't help it, but I felt…sorry for him. I mean…his face…it was all scared and ugly, and his voice weren't like anyone I ever heard. I couldn't help it Pa, I felt sorry for him."
John T. nodded, "I know what you mean Bren. I guess I did too, the first time I met him."
"Anything else you remember about him?" Wesley encouraged. "Anything at all."
"Yeah... his pockets!"
"His pockets?" his father frowned at the boy. "What about them?"
"Well, his pockets were red, not red like the clothes were supposed to be, but like something had dripped all over his pockets or soaked clean through." The boy looked off as he remembered them. "When I first saw them I thought it peculiar, but wasn't my business." Then his face screwed up into a huge frown. "Before he left, I knew why they were red…"
His father couldn't make any sense out of this information.
John T. got on his knees and looked at the boy, his expression softened as though he understood and felt for the boy having to say anything about it. "Go on; tell us why you understood it."
"He…he…he put Ma's finger in his pocket when he cut it off…." The boy cried and wailed until his father took him in his arms to comfort him. "He choked her." The boy cried out as he pulled away from his father slowly to look into his face. "With one hand…he choked her, way up in the air. Then he pulled her around and cut her finger off, and stuck it in his pocket. He didn't look at her when she fell to the floor in a heap. Ma's eyes got all glassy and her mouth came open but nothing came out. I knew…I knew then…she was gone."
"My God, son, I didn't know you seen that…." Rascal cried too.
"I couldn't help but see it Pa…he done it…right there in the kitchen…"
"Is there anything more…anything at all?" Wesley asked.
The boy pulled away from his father for a minute, wiped his eyes. He looked from his father to the other two men. "I didn't mean to do no wrong. He seemed nice to me. Gentle even."
John T. swallowed hard, "Yeah…I know exactly what you mean. Even as ugly as he was, he was gentle too…strangely gentle. I remember that face…tortured is what he looked."
The boy nodded. "Yeah…kinda felt sorry for him…"
Then he turned and glanced at them all…
"He thought Ma was mad at me, and that's what riled him in the first place, kinda like he was protecting me. And Ma was mad a little, 'cause….I let….him in."
"Your Ma weren't mad at you boy, surprised is all…" Rascal corrected and turned away to wipe his face. Rascal's hand rested on his boy's shoulder, as though letting him know he wasn't alone.
The boy stared at the men in front of him for a second then tears slid into his voice. "But I'll never forget what he said before he walked out."
Bren stood staring at John T., tears rolling down his cheek, as he spoke.
"Go on…tell it all, son…" Rascal choked.
"He said….I was…" tears streamed down his cheek, his face screwed up in misery." …better off without her…."
"Oh God," John T. turned away and couldn't look at any of them. The pain those words inflicted went deeper than John T. could stand. To hear it again after all these years, from a boy not much younger than he had been was more than he could tolerate. "If I ever hear those words again….."
John T. hit the doorframe with his fist busting a hole in it and looked away.
Wesley's jaw flexed.
Rascal shook his head and squeezed his son's shoulder. "Them's the words alright…"
Rascal went to his knees and took his son into his arms. "I'm proud of you Bren….as proud as a man can be of his son. What you done told us that was hard….hard as can be…No man could tell it, without a tear….but I'm proud you did, Bren."
"Yes sir…." Bren cried on his father's shoulder. Racking sobs, as though his world had ended. "I'd do anything to bring Ma back…anything…"
Chapter Seven
Next morning Rascal packed the kids in the wagon, and drove them over to the neighbor's house. He brought the milk cow and let the two boys put her in the barn. Emma Mae was on the porch waiting for them, and her eyes were red too, as though she hadn't slept much either. No woman in the valley would have slept that night.
"Don't worry none about them. I'll take good care of them. They'll be just like family…."
Rascal nodded, and shook her hand. "Words can't tell you…"
Emma waved her hankie, and turned away so he couldn't see the tears in her eyes.
Rascal kissed his kids, hard on the head, holding his tears until he was out of sight. He wasn't sure he'd ever see them again. That thought left a pain in his heart he couldn't tolerate. Losing his wife was hard, but losing his kids tore into him like a bear tearing his heart out.
Wesley and John T. stood on the porch at Rascal's waiting and watching the rain as it dripped off the roof of the porch. The dripping sound formed a music all its own. It was a sorry day and they all
loaded up, hitched up, and rode out with heavy hearts. Rascal had boarded the house up. He told Emma Mae "Just in case". She knew what he meant and caught her mouth to keep from screaming out.
He took one last look at his home and never looked back again.
Wesley led them in silence. His face set to grim. John T. didn't try to lighten the mood, for once. He wanted to stay focused. He thought briefly of Sarah and wondered when he might get back to her. He had made up his mind about her before he walked out of the saloon, and he hadn't changed it yet.
The rain slacked as the day worn on but the ground was soaked and camping was no pleasure but they had to eat, to nourish themselves and keep them going. It would be a long hunt, but they would hunt him down like a dog and kill him without a word. The decision was made. They weren't going to call him out, they weren't going to give him a chance, and they were going to gun him down, dead. If it meant prison, it meant prison. It had to be done.
Sipping the hot coffee, John T. stared at Wesley as he stared off into the distance. "How we gonna go about finding him, Wesley? I've been tryin' to get a lead on him for years. Nothin'."
"I been thinkin' 'bout it. I think we need to ride into Waco and talk to that Sheriff."
"You think he knows how we can find him?" John T. questioned.
"Nope, no more than we do, but he knows him better than we do. He used to live in the same town. He knows his history. He knows the whole story and until we hear for ourselves, we won't know how to outguess the man." Wesley said slowly as he bit down on a chew.
He offered some to John T. then Rascal. John T. didn't dip though and shook his head. Rascal helped himself and gave the pouch back to Wesley.
"You really want to hear to whole story? I mean…you figure it's important?" John T. asked.
"It's important. I told you both, this man ain't no average outlaw. Somehow we got to out figure him." Wesley shook his head. "And the only way to out figure a man like this, is to know what he's about."
Rascal shrugged. "If you think it's important to find out everything, then we'll do 'er."
"This ain't gonna be no picnic boys. More like huntin' an animal. And it's highly possible some of us, or even all of us might not come back."
"I got a feelin' I ain't gonna be comin' back," Rascal announced, the tears stuck in his eyes as though they refused to fall.
Wesley gave him a long hard look. "We'll not think that way Rascal. You got every reason in the world to come back. You got more reason than John T. and I. You got family. You got something' to come back to. A reason for livin'."
Rascal nodded, "I knowed that. But I'll get nervous and do the wrong thing. I always do. The reason I never joined up with the Rangers like you Wes. I don't always use my head."
"Well that could be to our advantage this time."
"We'll all get back," John T. tried to assure them.
"If' I don't, I want you fellers to see to my kids. I wouldn't trust no other persons on this earth to take care of them….understand?"
Wesley frowned. "Now quit your fool talk."
"Ain't fool talk. I gotta a feelin'. I've had it since I knew I was comin' with you boys. Just promise me…"
John T. stared at Rascal. "Rascal, I don't want to hear that talk either, but….I promise you if I make it, I'll see to them alright."
Wesley snarled at them both. "We'll all make it, if we use our heads."
John T. studied the men for a moment, then cleared his throat as he squat on the ground and poured more coffee. "If we're going to Waco, I got a stop I need to make there. Can we lay over a night there?"
Wesley eyed him curiously. "Shore…why not. So…who is she?"
"Didn't say it was a girl…" John T. felt himself blush.
"Didn't have to…"Wesley grinned.
"You gonna tell us about her, or will we have to find out for ourselves?" Wesley questioned with a grin.
"Her name's Sarah. She's the sweetest thing this side of the Mississippi." John T. grinned and blushed at the same time.
"Where'd you meet her?" Wesley asked not daring to look at John T.
"Don't matter where I met her, but that I met her." John T. affirmed.
"She's a dance hall girl…" Wesley shook his head. "I might have knowed you'd get tangled with one of them sooner or later. Ever saloon we been in they follow you around like you was somethin' special."
"Jealous?" John T. snickered.
"Nope, done had my heyday." Wesley croaked. "It ain't that she's a dance hall gal exactly, it's that you gotta be old enough and wise enough to judge 'em. Some's mighty fine, and others are out for what they can get. Usually they are honest about it, too. But every now and then you stumble on one that well…she don't rightly know what she wants, or who?"
Rascal watched the two men curiously. "So…tell us about her?"
"Nothing to tell, she's just pretty and sweet and I've decided I'm gonna marry her if I get this done right." John T. announced.
"Marry her?" Wesley faced him now. "How long you know'd this girl…?"
"Aw…it's not like your thinking. I was her first. And I told her not to let another man in her room until I came back."
"Boy…you're still wet behind the ears…." Wesley began when John T. grabbed his gun and pulled it on him.
"Stop it," John T. hissed. "She ain't like the rest. She's sweet and decent. I won't have you talking about her like she's some whore…."
"Well son…." Wesley began, but Rascal reached over and shook his head at Wesley. "Maybe we better stay out of his business, Wesley."
Wesley closed his mouth, looked at Rascal, and shook his head. "Okay…I'll butt out of it. Just don't come runnin' to me when she runs off with all your money…."
John T. nodded. "I won't."
The subject was closed and no man spoke of it again that night.
Sleeping in the rain was miserable work. Their slickers over their blankets, and hats on their heads didn't help much. Exhaustion claimed them quickly. John T. dreamed of Sarah and their future, Wesley found himself dreaming of some kind of life with Lorna, and Rascal just hurt from losing Susannah.
***
Three days later, they rode into Waco, muddy, tired, and not smelling too good.
"We'll give this kid here time to do his romancin' then we'll head out for Hardy's place." Wesley announced as they tied their horses to the hitch post.
"Good, I could use a cold one about now," Rascal smiled.
"Alright, you comin' in, cowboy?" Wesley looked at John T. with a smirk.
"Not just yet, I'm gonna get a bath, then I'll be in." John T. announced.
"See ya," Wesley nodded and they turned and went into the saloon.
John T. headed for the barbershop. He opened the door to a big man with a pair of scissors in his hand. "Got a hot bath anywhere in this town?"
"Sure, out back, two bits." The barber gave him a quick once over.
John T. threw the money on the counter and nodded, then headed towards the back of the building.
Two dance hall girls were standing waiting on a customer to get up and out of the barrel of water. John T. stood watching. They saw him and smiled.
"What's your pleasure honey?" one of them asked.
"A bath right now…thanks…" John T. couldn't stop his embarrassment.
After a relaxing bath and sweet smelling liquors, he headed for the saloon.
He spotted her the moment he peered through the doorway. She was alone in corner playing cards. He moved toward her without even thinking of his partners and how they might be watching him.
Sarah spotted him just as he stopped at her table. She looked at his hands, then up at him.
"Hello cowboy," she murmured, as though all the breath had left her.
"Sarah," he tipped his hat.
"I didn't think you'd be back," she whispered, the corners of her mouth turned down.
"But I am…"
She smiled now and nodded to the chair, "Want a beer?"
"Nope
, just want you," he said boldly.
"John T….!" she laughed softly.
He extended his hand to hers, squeezing lightly. "Wanna go up stairs?"
She stared at him hard, and then smiled again. "I thought you'd never ask…"
Taking her by the hand he led her up the stairs. He waited till she unlocked the door, and opened it. As soon as they were inside, he took her into his arms, kissed her as though she were a well, and couldn't get enough.
"I swear John T. you sweep a girl plum off her feet," she murmured as he shrugged his shirt from his pants and began to undress her as quickly as he possibly could. When her dress hit the floor, his boots joined it. By the time she undid her corset he had slid his pants down and thrown his shirt over the end of the bed rail.
Without waiting another second, he picked her up and settled her nicely into the bed, careful to turn the covers back. She wiggled out of her pantaloons and giggled. He smiled and threw his hat over the other side of the bed. He joined her quickly, his hot body molding to hers. He was on fire for her and she could barely breath he was kissing her so much. When her breasts rose against him in protest, he leaned his head down and took one into his mouth, and sighed aloud.
"Hmm…what a pillow…"
"John T.," she whimpered.
"Aw…Sarah honey, I have lots to tell you, and little time to do it, but first I want you…is that okay with you?" he asked looking up at her smiling face.
"It's wonderful, 'cause I'm kinda hungry for you too." she laughed.
He moved to enter her and she sighed with complete abandon. "Oh John T. You are so wonderful, so good. No one is as good as you…"
"No one," he stopped. "How many have there been…" He looked down at her, his manhood still deep inside her.
"Only a few, I had to do it to keep the bartender from firing me. But none of them was as good as you, honey. I swear." She smiled, still enjoying the rough thrusts he made.
"I told you to lock the door and not let anyone in," he stared down into her face.
"I'm a whore…what do you expect?" she stopped smiling.
Better Off Without Her (Book One of the Western Serial Killer series) Page 9