Better Off Without Her (Book One of the Western Serial Killer series)

by Hestand, Rita

  "Yeah, sure I am…" she pretended her mouth wasn't turning a pale green.

  John T. nodded with new understanding, "We'll camp soon…"

  "Not on 'count of me, I hope." She protested.

  "You're tough honey, but not that tough." John T. smiled and moved along ahead of her before she could bite his head off.

  The ground was soggy where they camped and John T. felt restless, as they got closer to his home. Home, he closed his eyes to the word. It hadn't been home to him in a lot of years. He remembered his past with the hurt inside him he couldn't quite shake. How his mother had died at Victor's hand, how his Uncle had come to live with him for a while and how he'd left him there alone two years later. At twelve, John T. realized he was a man, and he hardened himself to the fact. He scratched out a way to eat every day, learned to use the worn out pistol his Uncle had left, and existed for the next few years on mighty lean living. He'd learned to fight hungry wolves at his door, and drifters who never meant well trying to take his place over. He'd killed his first man at 13. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. It was a hard life and once he left, he vowed never to come back. Yet, he was headed for it now and there was no turning back.

  Pepper fixed everyone supper and John T. sat off alone. Pepper joined him when Wesley and Rascal began talking about the past. She heard a lot of their stories before and was growing weary of their tall tales.

  "You're kinda quiet this evening." She looked at John T.

  "Guess I am…" he mused giving her the once over. Pepper was a pretty thing, her hair splaying over her shoulders innocently grabbing his attention. Her eyes penetrated him like dark orbs reaching for his soul.

  "Somethin' wrong?" she queried?

  "No…nothin'."

  "Why do you keep starin' at me like you never seen a girl before." She asked.

  His glanced drifted over her slowly, and he suddenly realized he liked looking at her. He liked her. This time she blushed.

  "I guess I haven't been around enough women to know my manners," he explained, trying not to notice how pretty she looked even bone tired as she was.

  "You got a girl John T., I mean someone you care about some where's?"

  "No…" he answered without looking at her. He thought of Sarah and smiled. She had taught him not to fall for girls too easily.

  "How come?"

  "I've only really known one girl, and she wasn't something I would want to talk to you about." John T. explained.

  Pepper nodded. "She was a whore…?" Pepper guessed it.

  John T. nodded.

  "Was she pretty?" Pepper's voice went softer.

  "Very…"

  "I'm sorry John T., wasn't my business…" Pepper sort of shook herself and got up to join the others. "But I'm truly sorry it didn't work out."

  "I'm not…" John T. pressed his lips together and watched Pepper the rest of the night. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. He made that promise.

  Sleep eluded him the next day and Wesley and Rascal noticed his usual routine seemed to have changed.

  "Somethin' eatin' you boy?" Wesley asked just a few minutes before John T.'s home site came into view.

  John T. couldn't hide what was in his gut from Wesley. He was like a father to him. He glanced at Wesley and nodded. "That place…maybe…"

  John T. grimaced as the home place came into view.

  "It's just a place, John T. Remember that. It's people that hurt you, not places."

  However, after Wesley glanced around though and realized quickly that this wasn't much of a home. It was so barren, so lifeless. He quickly realized that John T. came from a stark loneliness that few had ever experienced. Wesley nodded to him. "Could use a woman's touch…"

  ***

  John T. tried to smile. "It Needs a lot more than that."

  "It's not that bad!" Pepper piped in.

  "You see somethin' I don't?" John T. asked, craning his head at her.

  "Maybe…a woman always does when it comes to a place to live. Ain't much worse than my place when we first moved in. Pa wasn't much on fixin' things…"

  Since John T. sat the saddle as they all got down and went toward the front door, he stared about the place, his eyes unknowingly misting with memories of his loneliness. He'd have rather ridden on, but Wesley seemed to insist on stopping here. It opened a window to his past and he'd rather have kept it closed. Without knowing why he felt exposed.

  It was Pepper that came up to him though. She cocked her head and smiled up at him. "Come on…" she encouraged, "Let's build a fire and get warm."

  John T. swung down from the saddle and nodded. Wouldn't do any good thinkin' about the past. That was over and he had a different life now. Maybe not much better than before, but at least he was no longer alone, and he knew they would never understand the loneliness that came from this place.

  The same old boards creaked in the floor; the wind still crept in under the door. He glanced around at the curtain that still hung at the window, once beautiful blue gingham, now faded and worn. His Mama had made those curtains and they'd be rags before he'd take them down.

  Pepper glanced around with interest, and began righting all the wrongs of the place. John T. seemed fascinated that she was trying to make it nicer. He guessed she must have a big heart to worry about it so much.

  She didn't waste any time in rustling up some grub. She set the broken table as though it were a grand one and prepared some rabbit stew, as Rascal didn't hesitate to trap one from the homemade contraption that John T. had built as a boy. John T. shared a few of his misadventures as a boy here and showed them where he learned to shoot. The old stump was still full of lead that John T. had confiscated as a young boy.

  "Man, who were you mad at?" Wesley laughed.

  "Nobody, why?" John T. glanced at the stump.

  "From the looks of all that lead, I'd say you were mad at someone."

  "Boredom will do that to you, Wesley." John T. tried to chuckle, but it was a dull one at best.

  Rascal nodded, "It's hard to make a good life up here alright, especially without a woman…"

  Wesley twisted his head and glanced at John T.

  John T. couldn't help but ponder on his father, who had gone to war, leaving him and his mom there alone to face the elements. Although there was good cause to go to war, John T. couldn't escape the feeling of abandonment he'd felt. Leaving a woman and a child in this barren land was like sentencing them to a slow death. His father never came back from the war, and John T. figured he must have died. His mother had only spoke of him with pride though, when she talked of his father. He marveled at her strength. He had come to realize then, how a woman could make the man. The right woman.

  His glance slid to Pepper a time or two.

  By nightfall, the place took on a different look and John T. was a little shocked. Was having people around all it took to make it a home again? Had he hated being alone so long that he'd blamed the country for it? On the other hand, maybe he'd just grown up and realized that he wasn't alone any more, that was a good thing, he determined.

  Unloading their horses later, they made pallets on the floor and found an old kerosene lamp to use to cook by.

  John T. wandered out after supper and stared at the fruitless land.

  Pepper came up behind him. "Memories can eat you up John T.," she said quietly.

  John T. turned to look at her. "Yeah, I guess your right. It sure ain't much though. But it's all I got…"

  "Maybe it could be, with people around." Pepper encouraged.

  "You'd have to be out of your mind to want to live up here," John T. frowned.

  Pepper nodded, "Maybe…or maybe you just need the right person with you." She encouraged.

  John T. glanced at her, all of her and turned away before he embarrassed her.

  "What about your girl friend in the bar, maybe she'd like a chance at a home?" Pepper encouraged.

  "She ain't my girlfriend…" he slumped against an old lean to shed.


  "Are you sure about that…" Pepper asked. "Sometimes, when a man is mad he says things he don't mean."

  "How come you think you know men so well?" John T. asked, angry that she tried to second guess everything.

  He came closer to her, close enough to see the beauty in her expression, close enough to smell the faint scent of roses, and his mind momentarily escaped.

  "You want to apply for the job?" he asked staring into her eyes.

  She quickly reddened and began moving away; "Oh…I didn't mean anything…John T." she was slightly flustered.

  John T. came closer again, his finger running down her cheek that was rosy red, "You're pretty when you're all flustered…"

  "I'm not flustered." she snapped and backed away.

  "Then why you runnin'…" he smiled.

  "I-I gotta go make sure I put the fire out under the coffee…it'll boil away…" she insisted.

  He smiled, and this time she tried to smile back.

  "G-goodnight…John T." she whispered.

  "Night…Pepper." He whispered under his breath.

  He watched her go inside. Then something in his heart turned upside down. He'd never felt such a feeling before, not over a woman. Especially a woman he hadn't even kissed before. He sure would have liked to have kissed her. He wondered if she'd like it or not?

  ***

  The next morning, they were fixing to head out, loading their stuff back on their horses. Pepper stopped long enough to pick some flowers behind the house. John T. went looking for her. She seemed to feel right at home here, and he didn't understand that. However, when he caught up to her she was stooped over, but still as a mouse. It didn't take long to see what was wrong. A rattler was coiled and about to strike. Just a few feet away.

  Sweat ran down Pepper's face, and she didn't dare move. She knew that one move and it could be her last.

  "Easy honey," John T. called, his voice cajoling her as he drew his gun and shot the head off the rattler. Blood splattered.

  Pepper nearly fell and John T. went to her side, holding her close and closing his eyes saying a silent prayer of thank yous.

  It happened so fast, neither of them realized it at first, but they were hugging and then his lips came down firmly on hers. And Pepper clung to him helpless. He never kissed a girl that didn't know how to kiss, but Pepper was stunned into immobility.

  Slowly his mouth moved against hers, and in a heated rush, her lips melted against his and then slowly began to move like an unanswered question. His breathed hard, as she clung to him for support. He'd never tasted a woman so sweet. A woman who didn't know what she was doing to him.

  She didn't know how to kiss, but somehow this kiss was better than any he'd ever had. He'd never known a girl to melt into him like that. Softness wasn't part of him, but it shocked him, and made him want more. It brought out a slight groan, when Wesley and Rascal rounded the corner.

  "Why'd you do that." she gasped as he pulled away too slow.

  "'Cause you scared the hell out of me, I guess…" John T. answered and stalked back to the other side of the house before the men started teasing him about it. "Or maybe…because I've been wantin' to for a while…." He smiled.

  Wesley smiled at Pepper. "Next time, make him ask permission…."

  Pepper smiled shyly.

  Chapter Ten

  Victor had ridden for miles without seeing anything; the land was stark and unwelcoming, and a whole lot of nothing. Then suddenly he came upon a lone house, sitting on a hill. It looked bare and lonely. There were no trees to shade the yards. The barn was dilapidated. The fences needed mending. Yet Victor seldom noticed these kinds of things. Most places he had been in his life, this was the case. The place belonged in the barren countryside.

  He studied the place for a long moment. He hadn't expected to see a homestead in the middle of nowhere. He wondered if he should stop. He knew the answer to that, but something propelled him to ride nearer. It'd be better if he rode on, he needed to catch his uncle, but he could use a good meal. He didn't want to stop, he knew he shouldn't but something made him ride closer still. Perhaps some inner need to be closer to people than he was. To understand what he didn't understand about them.

  His horse slowed to a stop when he didn't see anyone about. He moved slower now into the yard. The wind picked up. No one came out. The water bucket sat on the edge of the well, the chain swinging in the breeze, making an eerie sound. A barn door flapped a couple of times. Nothing seemed to move, it looked abandoned. A door blew open, and banged.

  Then he heard the muffled cry, and he whirled around. One because it was so faint he wasn't sure it was a cry, and two, it had to be from a child. He got off his horse. Almost peeling himself from the saddle he'd sat so long. It was a faint cry, but he kept hearing it. He followed the sound to a storm cellar and threw open the door as though he had every right to explore. There in the corner of darkness he saw a small boy. The boy was sitting on a pickle barrel, and crying. He looked up at Victor, but didn't say anything.

  The boy was red faced. His hair was uncombed, his clothes tattered, his feet bare.

  "Hey there little fella. What are you doin' in here?" Victor reached a hand out to him to pull him into the light.

  The boy didn't budge. He couldn't have been over six or seven. Dressed in tattered clothes, the boy looked too lean, reminding him of the days he'd been starved. "I cain't come out. My Ma put me here because I didn't go to school today. I played hooky and went fishing. So I gotta stay until she says I can come out. I went fishin' 'cause today's a good day; they're a bitin' and thought I'd bring some home for supper."

  "But you can go tomorrow, cain't you?" Victor asked. "To school?"

  "I guess," he shrugged. "I'll have to, or Ma…she'll whip the tar out of me…"

  "Well, then you come on out of there…they ought not to do this…"

  "Nope…I cain't come out 'til my Ma says I can…" the boy curled his lip with a mutinous expression.

  "Well….where is she?" Victor demanded.

  "In the house…she's cookin' supper…I reckon." The boy replied, not paying the man much attention.

  "All right…you stay here, you here now?"

  "You best move along, Ma's not in a good temper right now…besides, I ain't goin' nowhere…"

  Victor left the door open so the boy wouldn't be in the dark, and strutted toward the house with a purpose. His boots made a loud thump against the dry dirt yard. It seemed it was almost like a duty to right the wrongs, and Victor felt some strange sense of gladness being able to help someone in the world. He would not tolerate punishing a child. They had no right. The boy could go to school tomorrow. There was always tomorrows.

  His footsteps rang heavy on the porch and he went towards the door. He banged on it, shaking it mightily, but no one came to answer.

  He smelled food cooking and knew there was someone inside.

  "That you Tommy." the woman yelled from inside moments later. Her voice was gruff and full of anger. "I told you to stay…." Her words drowned as she spotted Victor Frank coming towards her with an ominous face. The door banged behind him. Victor stared at the woman.

  She was scrawny, her graying black hair was long and hung down her back, and her blue black eyes frowned at him, as if he was all manner of monster.

  "Who are you? What do you want? Get out of my house. Who do you think you are? You ain't welcome here. I said get out…did you hear me?" T/he woman demanded, backing up as she spoke. She lifted a spatula in her hand as a warning. Her hair flew as she moved, and her eyes were wide with fear.

  This woman seemed different. She was afraid of him, but there was something else in her eyes, something akin to his father…evil!

  Victor looked her up and down. She had a frown on her face and Victor understood frowns. It meant unhappiness. It meant loneliness. Where was her husband? The husbands were never around leaving only the women and children. No account mothers and fathers. The kids didn't need them.

  He
stared at her a long time. He saw something in her face that reminded him of himself and a strange sense of compassion hit him. This woman had never known happiness either. He read it on her face. Her anger festered. Just like him. It was like looking into a pond of water and seeing yourself for what you were. For a moment, he almost walked away from her, but it was his duty to take care of the children of this world. They didn't need punishing.

  The woman seemed too stubborn to move or speak. Afraid or cautious, he didn't know which.

  He marveled at the difference in size, she was tiny, but had the grit of a bear in her eye and yet her loneliness measured his. He could see it in her face, like a shiny lake…a reflection.

  "Are you the devil hisself?" She screamed, her voice screeching so hard it hurt his ears.

  Without so much as a word, he grabbed her by the neck with one hand, lifted her high into the air, and strangled her with a quick squeeze. She gasped. It was over in a matter of seconds. He felt her flesh eating into his hand as he squeezed the life out of her. The feel of it, delighted him. He was powerful in that moment of kill. Her eyes bulged, and she slumped against his arm. It was so easy to kill a woman. So very easy. It seemed to Victor that the female race was a waste in this world.

  "You ought not to do that to the child…he could've gone tomorrow…." Victor explained as though there was a need, as though she could still hear him.

  However, as he brought her down, she fell onto the floor in a heap. He looked down at her with disgust. "When they gonna learn not to treat the children that way…they ought not to do that."

  He lifted the hand that lay at his feet, and without a word he cut the ring finger off and stuffed it in his pocket. He twirled the finger around for a moment, enjoying its warmth. He gave her one last glance and turned to walk away. Blood dripped everywhere, drizzling all over the floor, making a trail. He'd heard the sound of her bone snap, like so many times and the relief flooded him at the sound. The deed was done. His good deed. He wiped the blade of his knife on the body. He shook his head at the dead woman. He felt nothing as he stared at her. Nothing at all. Not pity, no remorse.