“Barker. Just outside of Virginia City. It's a small settlement, but it's going to grow. Lord knows there's nothing here for either of us.”
“What am I going to do there? I can't have you taking care of me.” Hazel frowned knowing that was exactly what he planned to do. They were all the other had and he was very protective of her. The thought of moving frightened her, but so did the idea of him leaving her. She would be totally alone and she wasn't sure she could survive. Isaac had taught her to shoot, and how to hunt, but beyond that she wasn't sure how she would fair once the men in town found out she was alone. It wasn't unusual for a woman to live alone, but it wasn't advised. Not if she was smart.
“Whatever you want. This is a chance for us both to start over.” He grinned at her and she felt herself beginning to cave. It wasn't like she had a choice.
In the end she had agreed and it was then that Cyrus had told her that the only way to settle into Barker was through an invitation. There was a great deal of mystery surrounding the new settlement and if Hazel had known the full story it was doubtful that she would have ever followed her brother. Barker had originally been an Indian settlement. When the first wagon loads of settlers pulled up, the tribe leaders gave the settlement to them. What the natives hadn't told them was that the land was cursed. The settlers discovered that the following Spring when the entire town was destroyed by a darkness that came from the forest. The Indians had hid something from the settlers. Something valuable, and it would cost them.
The cost was that the Indians would be allowed to hunt the land and would have their own camp in the woods. They would also provide protection for the settlers from other Indian tribes and outlaws. This made it easy for the settlers to develop the land, and soon they were all prospering. Steam locomotives were linking more and more territories together and the land would be stolen by the white man anyway, so why not get something out of it? Each group was gaining what they wanted. This way it was done peacefully and in these violent times that was more than the Indians could ask for. They could live peaceably and even have land of their own. The important thing was that they were free of the curse.
The Indians believed that there was a spirit in the woods that had the visage of a demon. His head was adorned with pale gray scaly skin, the curled horns of a ram on either side of its misshapen skull. The belief was that if he was seen it was an omen of death and destruction, but if a sacrifice were offered it would bring wealth and prosperity to those that offered it. That was why the first settlers had all been killed. If the Indians had told the settlers this they would have laughed and dismissed the tribe as lunatics. Now? They had no choice but to believe. There was no name for this spirit, if there had been the Indians never shared it for fear that by saying it, they would conjure it.
The Spirit was now the white man's burden, and the only way to protect themselves was to offer up a sacrifice. In return the spirit protected them and kept them prospering. In the four years that Hazel had been there she had grown wealthy and Barker was free from war. The spirit had kept its promise and they were growing while other towns fell into disarray. She had done her part every spring and made sure that their sacrifice was led into the woods. What happened after that she didn't know. The screams were horrible. They sometimes came back to her in her dreams.
Hazel had asked why it was her job to lead the victim and was told that the saloon was the first place someone would stop. They all had parts, of course, but hers was the most important. No man could resist a pretty woman, and if you added that it was she who owned a saloon there was no way they would refuse. It was fool proof. She was sought out simply for her beauty, but as angry as she wanted to be she knew that it was also necessary. She had earned their respect and they would never let anyone harm her.
This time she was afraid that no one would come. If the legend were in fact true they would all die. The sacrifice would be the entire town. As Hazel gazed out the saloon window she couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. As she watched the dusty road she wondered who would be coming. What would this year's sacrifice be? It was never the same. Last year it had been a group of miners seeking gold, the year before that a man looking for farm work and feeling that he had been led to Barker. They had all been led there to die. There was nothing that would change that. No matter how she felt about it there were no other options. She loved her life in Barker and if she tried to interfere in any way she would be the one sacrificed- but not to the spirit.
The other alternative was to die. Hazel had seen what the hunting parties could do and she didn't want to die by their hands. This evening it would all be over and they would be free to live for a year without fear. Until then she just had to deal with it. She wouldn't think about offering herself to the hunters. She knew what they were capable of.
The Hunting parties were there to keep people from leaving Barker. If they left it was possible that they could warn others about their town, and if people talked, who knew what would happen. It was true that no one would believe them, but The Hunters ensured that it didn't happen. You were invited to Barker, but leaving was forbidden.
“You should stop asking questions. You want the wrong people to hear?” Cyrus had come into the saloon and she hadn't even heard him. She had been so deep in her thoughts that she wasn't even sure how long he had been there watching her.
“I'm scared, Cyrus. This isn't going to be like last time. I think something bad is going to happen.” Now that it was out she felt a little better. Not much, but a little anyway. Barker was an evil place and they were all guilty of allowing it to spread to each other. This secret would continue on, and there was no stopping it.
Cyrus laughed and gestured behind him. “Does anyone else look worried? Look around you, Hazel. No one else shares your feelings.”
What if the spirit decided to reject their sacrifice? What then? Hazel didn't know and didn't want to think about it. The Indians had given up their cursed land and freed themselves from the spirit. Now it was their curse. Hazel watched her brother and silently cursed him for bringing her to Barker. Had he known about the spirit? The more she thought about it the more she realized it didn't matter. Even if he had known he still would have brought her there. They were all blinded by the spirit's protection and seemingly endless prosperity. Was she complaining about her life? The spirit had saved them all. Why did she now doubt its promise.
Hazel shoved the thoughts aside and tried to focus on something else. “Have you seen Pastor Roberts?” The one man who should have been against all this was usually in hiding the week before the sacrifice. A man of God who had his hands tied. She often wondered how he could allow such a thing to happen. He preached about evil and yet allowed it to feed off his own town.
“No, and no one else has either. He always disappears the week before the event.” Cyrus chuckled at the word. Saying it was an event made it seem less ominous than it was. It made it sound almost festive.
“I wonder what he does. It has to be hard on him.” It seemed odd that they would have a pastor when their town was inhabited by an evil spirit, but it also made sense. They needed to feel that what they were doing was justified and the presence of God had followed them to Barker. They weren't evil, and it wasn't like they were worshiping the spirit. God was supposed to forgive them of all their sins, and this was quite a big sin. Was there salvation for them? What about for herself? Hazel had given up on God a long time ago, way before coming to Barker.
“I reckon it is, but it's just the way things are. He knew what he was getting into. You can't help him. No one can.”
It was her turn to say something, anything, but she had nothing. She looked out onto the dusty street and saw the same people she always saw. No stranger had appeared. Someone will, she thought. They always did. They were led there by some inner voice or guidance. They always had the same look about them. It was a look of confusion, and worry. It was as if they somehow knew they were lost or maybe found. They all
had the same glazed over look in their eyes as they wandered down Main Street. It was the look of the condemned. They had no idea why they came to Barker, yet they came. Last year it had been a group of men who were looking to pan for gold. They never found it of course. What they found was death, and it even knew their name.
Those men were dirty and grungy. They were uncouth and violent as well. If anyone deserved to die it had been those three. Hazel remembered them coming into her saloon laughing loudly and talking about how rich they were going to be. She had served them and gave them the rooms they requested knowing that they were never going to sleep in them. Cyrus had fed them a line about the hills just beyond town and how there was mining for gold up there. He'd be glad to show them where it was if they were interested. Their eyes lit up at the mention of it. Of course they were interested. What fool wouldn't be? As they walked out into the gloomy afternoon it was Doc Brown who had remarked; “Dead men walking.” They were walking straight to their death and the entire town cheered. Even she had cheered because she knew that the town was safe. The spirit was once again fed and they were free.
She watched them head toward the woods and wondered what it was that they had seen right before they died. What did the spirit look like? She knew there was a clearing in the woods where the spirit fed. The Indians had warned them to stay away and they had. No one went into the clearing during the sacrifice. She had asked Cyrus if he had seen the clearing and he had just shaken his head in response. When the spirit struck it did it when no one was looking. Each year someone led them to that spot and they all said the same thing. It was an evil place and if you were smart you stayed away. No one needed to be there. It was the spirit's territory and they were just thankful for the chance to live in peace.
The strangers always came and each of them died. That was the whole story, and sure, there were pieces missing, but that was for the best. No matter what Hazel felt she knew that she was being silly. Cyrus was right. He always was. No matter what she thought or felt, this was just the way things were. There was nothing different. All she had to do was get through this day and everything would go back to normal in the morning. Hazel wished that she could somehow forget, but the more she thought about it the less it made sense. If they forgot wouldn't they become the sacrificed? She often wondered what their last thoughts were, and once they were consumed where did they go?
The pastor had talked a great deal about heaven and even hell, but when the spirit devoured you where did you go? Were you left wandering around the forest, or was there another place that existed beyond heaven and hell? That went beyond what the preacher had told them. There was only one God, but what if there were more? Was it possible that the God that they were following was the wrong one? Was there something written in stone that told them that this was the only God that existed? It didn't seem right, but she couldn't express these thoughts for fear of being called out and taken away by the hunters.
As she watched the crowd of people pass, she decided that this time she would follow the condemned as he or she marched to their death. Hazel wanted to see the spirit and watch as it killed. If it doesn't see me, I'm safe. Of course there were no guarantees that she would be safe, but she had to see. What if it does see you? There was no answer. Just thinking about it frightened her. It was quite possible that the spirit would smell her the way a wild animal smells its prey.
A new realization came to her as she idly wiped the bar down. If these people were in fact led to Barker to be fed to the spirit, then she would have to be safe. What if it senses you and comes after you? She had no idea, but she suddenly had to see the spirit. If it was a God, then why couldn't it be worshiped? She could build shrines to it and offer it prayers. This could be the God that wouldn't fail her. It had already given her more than the preacher's God did.
It offered prosperity and safety. While the Christians were still waiting for their God to appear the spirit already had. This was a God to love and fear. It didn't have a Bible to guide them or prayers that needed to be said before every movement. The spirit wasn't jealous, nor did it require anything other than a sacrifice. It wasn't like the spirit itself was asking them for anything, unlike their God, who demanded more than it gave. This would be the perfect opportunity to either prove or disprove that a God existed. All she had to do now was wait. The die was cast, and as she tried to keep herself busy, she couldn't help but wonder when this person would show up. The anxiety made her nervous, but the thing that she never thought of was that the spirit could have been working on her. It was quite possible that she was the sacrifice.
Hazel became so busy that she failed to see a tall gaunt man walk into the saloon. He was wearing a battered derby sat upon his sweaty head and faded black wool pants. Completing the ensemble was a walnut colored gun belt. His face was deeply tanned and unremarkable save for the old Dutch style beard. He smiled at her and Hazel felt her heart skip a beat.
“Well, hello stranger.” Hazel smiled back and she knew that this man was the one the spirit wanted. She could see it in his eyes. They were glassed over and he looked around the saloon as if he were looking for someone, or something.
“I reckon you don't get many strangers around these parts.” His voice had a deep southern drawl that Hazel had become accustomed to.
“You're right. What brings you to Barker?” She poured him a beer and her eyes watched the bat wing doors open as Cyrus walked in with a knowing smirk that said: “I told you so.”
“Just passin' through ma'am. I was on my way to Virginia City and saw this fine place and wanted to stop in. I figured the horse could use a rest.”
“Where you from?” Hazel asked politely. This was how the dance began. Soon he would be lead to the woods where he would die, just like the others.
“Everywhere,” He laughed politely and shrugged his shoulders. “I'm just a tumbleweed. Drifting from town to town until I find my home.”
“How will you know when you find it? What happens if you never find it?”
The stranger thought for a minute. “I don't know. I guess I'll just know, and if I don't, I reckon I'll die under the stars.”
If you only knew, she had an urge to tell him that he would do just that. She wondered if he had any idea that he was here for a reason. He was chosen. That in itself made him special, and for just a second she envied him. How many people could say that they were chosen for anything? Sure, he was chosen to die, but still, it was important. He was chosen, and no matter what he said or did his life would be worth something to the residents of Barker. He was giving himself up for the greater good. That was a beautiful thing.
It was all about destiny. No matter what he did or wanted to achieve in life he would have still become a drifter and all roads would have led him to Barker. The Bible talked a great deal about purpose and how everyone had one. There was nothing you could do change your fate. No matter how much this man planned or tried to achieve, the end result would have always been the same. There was nothing he could do to stop, or even change it. He was totally and unequivocally fucked.
“Sounds almost romantic. You're a man who knows what he wants. Not many do.” Hazel heard her name called and saw that her poker players needed more drinks. She filled a tray and walked toward them thankful that they were minding their manners. Of course they are, they know better than to start a fight today. Tomorrow everything would be back to normal and it wouldn't surprise Hazel if there wasn't a shooting tomorrow.
That was how differences were settled. If you were slow on the draw the fight was over. You couldn't fight if you were dead. When she turned back toward the bar the stranger was being led out by Cyrus. He wasn't being forced, which would have been dangerous. If Cyrus had been forced to draw his gun there was no telling what could happen. Of course nothing ever went wrong. It was as if they were all following a script that they had never read.
Hazel turned to Kitty and thought of something to say that would make her absence less conspicuous. Sweat trickled be
tween her breasts and armpits. “Kitty? You want to watch the bar for a bit? I'm going to get some air.” Outside, Hazel looked for Cyrus and saw him heading away from downtown and toward the woods. The sun sank behind white fluffy clouds, and the wind, which had been still all day suddenly sprang up in a strong gust that lifted the bottom dress, exposing her black boots. If she had been wearing a hat it would been flying up Main street. She looked around to make sure that no one was watching and saw that those who were out were too busy hitching up horses and loading their orders onto covered wagons.
As she got closer to the edge of the woods she almost had to sprint to keep up with them. They were walking faster as they got closer to the clearing. A well worn path ran straight through the center of the clearing and then branched off as it wandered back toward the tree line. One path led to a small stream while the other led deeper into the woods. Not many people aside from hunters ventured here. The trees were so thick that the sun rarely shone there. Hazel nearly lost her footing as she worked her way around exposed tree roots and loose dirt. This deep only the sounds of whippoorwill and cicada broke apart the silence.
She tried to map out landmarks so that when she came back she wouldn't get lost. There was a large mossy boulder that she could sit on when she came back through. She wasn't exactly sure where the clearing was, but as she struggled to control her breathing she could hear the men talking. Cyrus's hat bobbed rhythmically as he walked. “Sure is pretty out here.” This was the stranger. His voice was even, and unlike Hazel, he didn't appear to be breathing hard at all.
“You just need to watch out for the Apache. They still own some of the land. We try and live as peacefully with them as we can, but they don't like intruders.”
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