John T. nodded slowly. "Yeah…I guess your right. But Victor Frank must die…once and for all before he kills again."
Antonio nodded.
"Okay, Antonio, as long as you understand, you can go along. I'd like you to understand us, though. We are not cold-blooded killers, ourselves. It's just the only way. If a rabid dog gets near people he kills. So does Victor Frank."
Antonio nodded, but his smile never came back that night even when he bedded down.
Antonio saw the frown on Pepper and John T.'s face and he made his bedroll down for the night. "I cannot call him a friend when I heard of all the things he had done. I could not. So I would not call him a friend, I have met him and it is hard to imagine him the way Wesley described him to me. I felt compelled to seek you out and help if I could. In some way. I felt when I met him that this man had suffered greatly through life. It is sad. I felt he needed a friend."
Rascal stood to one side, his face a continuing mass of emotions.
"This is Rascal; Victor Frank killed his wife…" Wesley pointed his finger as they all huddled about the fire. Rascal nodded but did not shake his hand. Wesley frowned at his two friends.
Antonio seemed to understand. "It is difficult to hunt such a man."
"My father told me of his misfortunes, and in some ways I guess it is sad. But we here, have all suffered a loss because of him…" Pepper explained. "We don't have the time nor the inclination to feel too sorry for the man."
Antonio nodded.
Pepper fixed a good supper and Antonio sat right beside her as though he had every right to do so. John T. felt suddenly chastised. Deciding to keep his distance he joined Rascal. Although Pepper didn't smile nor even talk much, she did glance up at John T. a couple of times as Antonio kept her company.
Rascal seemed leery of the young Mexican too.
Rascal and John T. sat together watching the three of them talk about Victor and about their homes and families too.
Rascal saw the misery on John T.'s face and shook his head, "Don't let her see you looking all puppy-eyed at her. She's teasin' you with this new fella. It's for sure and certain you haven't said nothing permanent about how you feel. Maybe you better think on that a while son."
John T. scratched the stubble on his chin, "I ain't known her long enough…"
Rascal nodded, "This is true, but sometimes people share things in life that are so personal it sorta throws you into knowing that person better. Besides, women are a luxury and if you want a good one, you have to put your brand on 'em fast, 'cause they get taken fast."
John T. frowned and looked at Rascal. "I'm trying to decide how I feel about her. I jumped the gun a little about that dance hall girl. I don’t' want to be that hasty about Pepper. She's hard to read and I've got a job to do before I can even think of settling down…."
"Well, you got that right. Maybe it's best you don't do anything till we get this done." Rascal nodded. "Things could turn out kinda bad…"
"Don't start thinking that way Rascal…" John T. cautioned.
"I don't figure I’m going to come out of this alive…" Rascal began again. "Wesley don't want to hear that, but it's a feeling deep inside. I cain't get rid of it."
John T. raised his hand to him. "Rascal…..why do you keep saying that? And you’re the best gun hand here, so where does that leave the rest of us? Victor Frank is only one man, and he's not even a fast draw."
"Yep, you are right about that, John T. It ain't drawing on a man that's important; it's killing him without hesitation. As Wesley has been sayin' the man ain't right in the head. That makes it harder to kill him, in some ways. Besides, it's just a feeling. Susannah didn't hold with killin'. But if I don't make it….promise me, you and that little filly over there will take my kids and raise them like your own. It would set my mind at peace knowing they are taken care of." Rascal insisted.
"I told you I would…whether it's with her or not." John T. shook his head. "But we're all going to come out of this just fine, Rascal. You'll see."
"Promise me," Rascal looked at John T with a tear in his eyes that he wouldn't let fall.
"Okay, okay, I promise." John T. scolded.
"That sets my heart to gladness, I gotta tell you. Having kids can mean a powerful responsibility John T. A man needs to remember that. You and that little gal over there could make a right nice family, if you tried." Rascal chuckled. "Tell me somethin' John T.?"
"What?"
"What exactly do you think love is?"
"What?" John T. frowned. "What kind of question is that?"
"Is it that burnin' in the pit of your stomach that makes you so restless you can't stand? Or is it the feelin' that you can't live without them that makes you know? 'Cause I didn't hesitate a moment with Susannah. I knew with one kiss that she was for me. We'd knowed each other a week."
"A week?" John T. looked at Rascal.
"A week. I knew Wesley was sweet on her, but the way he moved, it'd be a couple of years before he got up the balls to ask her. And I figured she'd have said yes to him, if I'd waited that long."
"A week?" John T. repeated.
"Well, I was older than you, when I asked her to marry me. I'd already been through that rangy time in my life. I knowed she was ripe for the pickin' too. I didn't want to share her with nobody. Just like you. I didn't want someone takin' what I knew I wanted the minute I looked at her. We was wed nearly fifteen years, and I loved every minute of it. And the only thing that scares me about Victor Frank is that I'll think of her at that moment and not pull the trigger, 'til it's too late." Rascal sighed. "Now do ya understand why I feel I might not come out of this…?"
John T. stared as Rascal for a long moment. "Yeah….I guess I do."
"Hesitation gets you killed fast….remember that."
"Now Rascal, you've pulled on a lot of men, according to Wesley, and this one ain't any different. We done decided we've got to do it. So quit your frettin'. And, that little gal over there hasn't said a word about how she feels about me…" John T. fretted. "And the way she's flirtin' with that Antonio, I'm not sure how she feels. And I hate to tell Wesley this…but I'm not so sure we can count on Antonio."
"Aw…if Wesley says he's okay, then he's okay. You're just a mite jealous is all and not seein' things straight. That's the way women are. They like to keep you guessing, John T. But it's you that's got to tell her how you feel. "Till you do, she's just gonna keep playin' games. She's gotta know you ain't some stupid cowboy that will be here today and gone tomorrow. That there is a young lady, a nice young lady. She's gotta be treated that way too. If you love her…then you best tell her, and soon." Rascal glanced in her direction.
Pepper saw them looking her way more than once and raised her voice, "You two could join us you know."
"I'm turnin' in for the night," John T. huffed, and brought his saddle to the campfire, making his bed. Every move he made was with agitation. Pepper smiled to herself.
Rascal walked off shaking his head.
Wesley watched the two of them and just smiled.
Chapter Twelve
Victor dismounted and looked about the place. Not much had changed in all this time. The old home place was as desolate as ever. It was in need of paint, and the wood was peeling back from too much wind and rain. The front door creaked, the well chain dangled, naked of a bucket. A tumbleweed blew across the yard, almost knocking Victor down. A piece of the roof flapped in the wind. No, nothing had changed. It was as marred as his life. And voices played in his head as he neared the front porch. The windows were dingy and dirty, and nothing but a well-ridden horse tied to the crooked hitching post looked alive about the place.
Victor moved slowly about, his glance going over every inch of the place. He looped his rope about his shoulders.
He stomped up to the porch noisily. He shouldn't have done that, his foot went through the floor as a board gave way with his weight.
"Who's out there," A gruff loud voice with an anxious grind to it yell
ed.
Victor didn't answer. He recognized the sneering voice.
"Who's out there, I heard ya…." A big burly man came to the door and took a second look at Victor. His face wore years of drinking; his hair was slick from no washing, his clothes tattered and dirty. And an ugly hearted face stared blankly at Victor; his blood shot eyes ending his bushy brows at his nose.
"Why…you're the man that tried to kill me…." The old man hollered going back inside and fumbling for his gun.
He came back out and pointed it at Victor. Victor stood calmly in front of him, squaring himself. Victor finally nodded. His dark eyes piercing his Uncle.
"Well…who the hell are you?" the man asked, trying to figure it out himself.
Victor knew that if he opened his mouth, it would give him away, so he was silent.
His Uncle didn't recognize him.
The man stared into his face…"Who are you…you bastard. Answer or I'll blow your head off." The older man spit his tobacco at Victor's feet.
Victor took a step toward him. "You don't recognize me, you should…you help do this to me…"
The man's eyes bulged, his mouth flew open. "My God…Victor?"
The man lowered the gun and studied him for a long minute. His big bushy eyebrows nearly came together in a frown. It was those brows that made Victor think him the devil himself when he was young. Then slowly, the man's eyes widened with something near fear.
"I thought you was dead?"
"I am…we both are…" Victor exclaimed.
"Aw now, ain't no call to be angry, boy. We's family." The man put the gun down to his side.
"Look at me…you and my daddy did this to me…" Victor cried out like a child. He twisted his head with disgust and tears rolled down his cheek. The hurt and pain screwed up his face and made him turn red. Tears were something Victor hadn't experienced in years, but the old voices and the foul words hitting him squarely in the face, made him remember too much.
"Aw now…don't take on so. Yor still alive…ain't ya….?" The man grunted as he turned to go into the house again. "Come on in the house…I'll fix you some coffee."
Victor swiped his eyes like a kid, with the back of his hand and followed the old man in. Forcing his emotions under control, he took his rope from his shoulder, swung it, and looped it over his Uncle before he knew what was happening. The old man stumbled, and half turned to look at him, "What'ya doin', you crazy fool…"
Victor didn't answer. But those words echoed in his brain all the while he cinched the rope tighter.
"What are you doin' boy? Now listen here…this ain't funny." The man said, twisting and turning and trying to get loose.
"Nope…it ain't." Victor nodded and pulled the rope tight around his Uncle's midriff.
His Uncle tried to pull the gun around but he lost his grip and the gun fell to the floor with a thud.
Victor took it and tossed it as far as he could see out the front door. "You won't be needing that no more." He affirmed as he turned to face his angry Uncle.
"You let me go boy, if know what's good for you, you let me go."
Victor Frank cinched the rope on him and opened his mouth with what was trying to be a smile. "I aim to kill you…real slow…like ya did me, long ago…"
"You ain't dead…look at yourself boy. You ain't dead…." The man's eyes were wild with fear now.
Big eyes, with bushy evil eyebrows that nearly came together. Victor had seen those brows in a thousands nights of nightmares. Hate curled around his heart.
Victor felt no fear with this man now. Not anymore. He had him. He finally had him.
He pulled him inside the room.
"W-what you gonna do boy…"
"Uncle J.I. I'm gonna kill you…." Victor said in his screechiest voice.
"Now listen here…you untie me and we'll forget this happened. Why…we's family. I'm probably the last of yor family. You cain't kill me…" the old man hollered.
"Don't worry Uncle J.I. I’m gonna kill you real slow…So you know yor dyin'." Victor Frank felt an emotion swelling in him. And he wasn't sure what it was. It had been too long, but it came out in little squeaks.
"You quit laughin' at me…" the old man threatened.
Victor twisted his head at the word, "Laughing?"
"You's a mockin' me like I done you. I know…."
"You remember?" Victor twisted his head again and again the smile tried to form on his face, but it was too painful.
"I do, boy…and I'm a right sorry about how me and yor daddy treated ya. I've had years to think on it, and it weren't right. No sir, it weren't. It weren't right at all…I know that now. Yor daddy was a mean man…yes sir it was his entire fault…."
Victor shook his head. "Daddy's dead…"
The old man swallowed. "You killed him?"
Victor nodded.
"Did you shoot him?"
Victor shook his head.
"Look…" there was a desperate sound in the old man's voice now and Victor recognized it. Fear stunk worse than any dead animal he'd ever smelled. He sounded almost like the women he killed. "I got a little money. You can have it. And this place…you can have it too. Jest let me ride out of here…okay…?"
Victor shook his head…"Nope…"
"Okay, okay….you want to hurt me…you want to see me cry…beg…what?"
"I want to see you die…" Victor replied quietly.
"Well…shoot me then…" the old man grumbled.
"Too quick. You got ta suffer…like me…you got to look like me…sound like me…die like I did way back then…you might as well a killed me…and you know it. I been good fer nothin' all my life. All because of you and my rotten ole daddy. But there's an end to evil, and it will end here."
"Now look, you ain't thinkin' good. The law will get ya…."
Victor shrugged. "Don't matter…"
"Ain't ya scared of dyin'?" the old man hollered, his mouth drooling with tobacco and his eyes bulging.
"Nope…done died a long time ago…told ya so."
"Now…wait a minute…" The old man seemed to be thinking of more to say, but Victor was having none of it. He was checking the beams and rafters. And in a short while he had one that would hold and threw the other end of the rope up.
J.I. tried to find something to hang on to, but there was nothing in the room but a dilapidated table. Victor stood on it to get the rope around the beam. Then he rigged it so he could string him by the feet, upside down and look at him.
"Don't do this boy. I’m the only one who knows what you been through…don't you see…"
Victor shrugged. "Don't matter."
"I could help ya…"
"Nope…Too late for you or me…"
"What are ya gonna do to me…" The old man wailed miserably as Victor hauled him up off the floor. J. I. hung there in the middle of the room, helpless. Helpless and at last afraid.
"Same things ya did ta me…."
"No…no…please…."
"And I’m gonna laugh…like you did…" Victor made as strange sound.
A silent tear ran down Victor's cheek, as some emotion clouded his thinking for a few minutes. All of this brought back the pain and the suffering. The memories were fresh now.
He didn't want to remember. But there was no release, he was home, and he had his Uncle where he wanted him.
"You buzzard, you'll pay if I get down from here…" the old man promised. The beam squeaked a little as he swung about.
"You ain't gonna get down from here…." Victor vowed.
"Look, my throats parched can I have a drink…?"
"Nope…I ain't feedin' ya nor givin' ya nothin' to drink…'cept maybe a rat…Member how you use to say rats were good? Raw too…" Victor threatened, his knife wielding at his Uncle's throat. He pierced him there, till the blood spurted. He watched the knife go into his skin and the fresh spurt of blood trickle over it and his fingers. "And you can drink the blood if you're thirsty. Member?"
"It was yor daddy's fault
, not mine…"
Victor looked sharply at him, "If you'd of rode out and never come back, I wouldn't be doin' this. But ya helped him do this to me. Take a good look at my face….listen to my voice; check out my hand for fingers. Afore I'm done, yor gonna look a lot more like me and sound like me too."
"You can't do this…you ain't mean enough…"
"I done it to Pa, I'll do it to you…"
Coins fell out of his jacket pocket and made music on the floor. Then a small pocketknife fell out. Victor picked it up, and checked it for sharpness.
"Why don't you just shoot me…?"
Victor shook his head, "Ya gotta suffer….that's why."
"Alright then, get on with it."
"Ain't in no hurry. Want ya ta worry and fret a little, ya always said I should fret over what you and Pa were gonna do to me next. So you fret. I'm thirsty. I need a drink."
"Can you give me slug of whiskey….?"
"Nope…"
"Water, then…"
"Nope…ya done forget how ya did me, ain't ya? I begged for water…for food, for relief."
Victor went out side to the well, and made a makeshift bucket for water, then drew it up. He took his time taking a drink. He glanced around and a strange peace fell over him suddenly. He was home…and a tear fell down his cheek, silently. He knew he should feel something more for the place, but it wasn't there. It was a giant void. The fact that there was nothing there made him sad. All his adult life he'd watched other people, heard them speak of home, as though it were a grand place, as though they couldn't wait to get back to it. But home didn't mean that to Victor. It was an empty, dirty, ugly place, full of nothing but memories he'd tried to bury deep inside of him, so they wouldn't hurt him.
He made a trap to catch some supper and waited. It didn't take long. He had a rabbit. He left the bait out to catch something for his Uncle.
He skinned the rabbit and took it inside, and put it over the fireplace on a spit to cook. He'd learned to cook by hanging there in the living room just like his Uncle and watching them. Now his Uncle was watching him. He glanced at his Uncle like a side of beef that wasn't quite done. His face was pale now and he was sweating fiercely.
Better Off Without Her (Book One of the Western Serial Killer series) Page 16