Deadtown and Other Tales of Horror Set in the Old West

by Carl Hose

  * * *

  The sun rose high and hot. Another scorcher in Hang ’Em High. Franklin rolled up his sleeves and started dragging crates of raw meat out behind the barn, where he was in the process of hanging strips of flesh over lengths of rope stretched between wooden posts he’d fashioned specifically for the job.

  It was a time-consuming process but worth it. Two special kinds of meat and his own blend of spices and seasonings, along with slow drying in the sun. That was the only way to do it. The best jerky west of the Mississippi didn’t just happen overnight. It took time, not to mention pride in your work, and by God, Franklin had plenty of both. . . .

  Downtown Sundown

  Frank Talbot rode into Sundown early morning on a Sunday. He dismounted outside the Bloody Mary Saloon, grabbed his Winchester, and went inside. The saloon was empty except for the barkeep, who looked at Frank with minimal interest as he went about polishing the bar counter.

  Frank gave a slight nod. “Kinda parched,” he said, leaning his rifle against the bar. “You wanna set me up with a bottle?”

  The barkeep reached under the bar and brought out a half-full bottle of rye. He set the bottle in front of Frank and went back to his task.

  “Not much trade on a holy day, I guess,” Frank said, trying to strike up a conversation.

  “Not much,” the barkeep responded in a flat, disinterested tone.

  “Guess God ain’t real good on the economy.”

  The barkeep shot Frank a look that said he wasn’t much for idle talk. Frank took the hint and concentrated on his bottle. He finished off two shots of the rye and laid money on the bar. “You keep the change,” he said, and after a slight pause, “Any suggestions where a man might find a meal and a room?”

  “Red Velvet Inn at the end of town. They serve food ’round the clock. Don’t get real busy ’til after dark. I was you, I’d take the meal and skip the room, though.”

  “That so?” Frank mused. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

  He picked up his Winchester and headed outside, stopping long enough on the porch to roll a smoke. His eyes moved along the opposite side of the street, taking in the buildings there—dry goods, a livery, and the law office.

  Frank dropped his horse at the livery and paid in advance. “Be leavin’ early in the mornin’,” he said. “Obliged if you’d have ’er ready then.”

  “I can do that,” the blacksmith said.

  Frank left the livery and headed in the general direction of the hotel. He tensed a little when he passed the law office. The law never took kindly to him. Not that Frank went out of his way to find trouble, but more often than not, trouble seemed to find him.

  The sheriff, a stocky long-haired fella, was sitting behind his desk when Frank gave a wide birth to the open door of the law office. Frank glanced in and gave a curt nod, but he didn’t let up his stride, and he sure as hell didn’t need to turn back to know the sheriff had stepped outside to look after him.

  “Hold up,” the sheriff called.

  Frank turned around slow, careful not to make any sudden moves the sheriff might mistake for a threat.

  The lawman approached Frank, stopping about a yard shy. “You ain’t from around here,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “That’s about the truth of it,” Frank replied.

  The sheriff gave him a long, hard look. “Might be wise if you kept on ridin’,” he said. “Sundown’s a right ugly place to be after dark.”

  Frank took a quick look around and sighed.

  “Reckon I seen worse,” he replied evenly.

  “I highly doubt that, son,” the sheriff said. “Heed my advice and get out while the gettin’s still good.”

  “I ’preciate the concern, Sheriff, but I think I’m gonna stick around ’til mornin’ leastways. Been ridin’ a long while.”

  The sheriff locked eyes with Frank for a long, challenging moment, then he relaxed and shrugged. “Suit yourself, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

  With that, he went back to his office, leaving Frank to continue on his way to the Red Velvet Inn.

  Except for an old woman who sat behind the check-in desk, the lobby of the hotel was deserted. That’s a witch woman, Frank thought. She had long, straight hair the color of silver, and her eyes were corroded with milky cataracts.

  “Like a room for the night,” Frank said, overlooking her sheer ugliness.

  “Be a dollar,” she said.

  “You tryin to rob me, woman?” he said.

  He put the money on the counter anyway. She replaced the cash with a key. “Room faces the street,” she said. “Just the way ya like, am I right?”

  “Yes, ma’am, just the way I like ‘em.”

  He started across the lobby but didn’t get far before the smell of bacon hit him full force. The dining hall was nearly deserted, he noted, but it wasn’t company he needed. His belly rumbled like thunder. He took a booth facing the street. A pale, skinny girl came out to take his order, skittish as a newborn colt.

  “Set me up with strong coffee to start,” Frank told her. “Follow that up with a stack of flapjacks, some bacon, maybe a bowl of sweet oats.”

  She scribbled his order and hurried away.

  Frank rolled a smoke and looked outside, noting the lack of activity. He watched a couple old timers slip into the saloon and saw three woman walking down the sidewalk dressed in their Sunday best, but that was the extent of it.

  He couldn’t have been more grateful when the food arrived. He paid the girl a little extra and watched her hurry off again. Odd as her behavior was, it was none of Frank’s concern. What concerned him was the chow. He hadn’t eaten a good meal in more than a week, and this one was shaping up to do nicely. Strong coffee, flapjacks drowning in maple syrup, crisp bacon, and oats that leaned heavy on the sugar and cream. There wasn’t a lot more a man could ask for.

  He had a smoke after his meal, which was custom, then went upstairs to his room. He hung his gun belt on the bedpost, leaned his rifle against the wall beside the bed, then took off his hat and dropped it on the nightstand. Satisfied everything was in place, he stretched out, still fully clothed, and shut his eyes.

  Sleep always came easy but light for Frank. He never went too deep into it. Staying alert was another custom, even in rest mode. A man never knew what might come up at any given moment. It was his way of thinking that kept Frank alive.

  When the doorknob rattled, he bolted up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and slid the Colt from its holster. It was all a series of moves that came natural to him. He moved quickly to the door, gave the knob a sharp turn, and pulled hard. The door flew open and the pale, skinny girl from downstairs tumbled into the room, falling face down on the floor.

  “What the hell you doin’ outside my door?” Frank asked.

  She was on her knees, looking up at him, and he could tell by her wide-eyed look that she was real scared. “I-I need your help,” she stammered. “I need you to get me away from here.”

  “You don’t like your job?”

  “Not away from the inn. Away from Sundown.”

  “Do me a favor and get off your knees,” Frank said. “I hate when a woman begs. It ain’t becomin’.”

  She got up. Frank closed the door and holstered his gun.

  “How ’bout you take a seat and tell me what you’re goin’ on about,” he said, eager to get to the bottom of things.

  She sat on the edge of the bed. Frank dragged a chair across the floor, turned it backward, and straddled it. He took out the makings and began rolling a cigarette with the precision of someone who’d done it numerous times before, then he struck a match, lit the smoke, and tossed the match over his shoulder.

  “Speak to me,” he said, finally giving the girl his attention.

  She took a deep breath. She was scared, no two ways about it. When she finally spoke, her words were thin and shaky.

  “You ever heard of vampires?” she asked.

  Frank chuckled. “
Sure, I know the tales,” he said.

  “Not just tales, mister. Sundown’s full of ’em.”

  Frank eyed her suspiciously. “Look, I didn’t catch your name . . .”

  “Jenny.”

  “Jenny, I hate to break this to ya, but vampires ain’t real. I can see somethin’s got ya real edgy, but it ain’t bloodsuckers.”

  “Oh, they’re real alright, mister. As real as you ’n’ me, and they’re all around us. Did you notice there aren’t many people out and about?”

  “Yeah, matter of fact, I did.” Frank allowed.

  “That’s how it is in the daytime. There ain’t many of us left that don’t drink blood. Those that do only come out when the sun goes down.”

  “The vampires?” Frank reckoned.

  “That’s right, the vampires,” she said. “Silus—he’s the head vampire—and all the folks that used to be normal around here, they’ll feed on the rest of us and then move on to another town.”

  “If you’re so fired up worried about these vampires, why ain’t you left already? What’s keepin’ you from lightin’ outta here durin’ the day?”

  “Elijah and his bunch. There’s six of ’em, mister, and they stay alive because they keep watch for Silus while him and the rest sleep.”

  “That a fact? Where are they now, Elijah and his friends?”

  “Most likely ridin’ the outskirts of town, makin’ sure nobody tries to get away. If they catch you tryin’ to escape, they turn you over to Silus, and he takes special pleasure in killin’ anybody that tries to get away.”

  “Don’t know as I cotton to all this bloodsucker business, but I’ll tell ya what I’ll do. You stay here and let nose around. Never let it be said that Frank Talbott turned away a lady in distress, even if she was half nuts. Don’t open the door to nobody. I’ll knock two times, wait, then three more. You’ll know it’s me.”

  He hooked his gun belt around his waist, grabbed his hat and rifle, and headed downstairs. The old woman behind the desk was asleep. Frank ignored her, crossing the lobby with long, firm strides.

  “They’re gonna get ya if ya ain’t careful,” the old woman croaked.

  “What’s that?” Frank asked, turning to look at the old woman.

  He was sure he hadn’t imagined the old woman speaking, but her eyes were closed, and she was snoring loud as a steam engine.

  Frank shrugged it off and went outside, wincing as the heat of the sun smacked him in the face. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust, then he headed for the sheriff’s office.

  The sheriff was at his desk when Frank barged in. He was drinking coffee and puffing a fat stogie, not the least surprised to Frank.

  “See you didn’t heed my warnin’,” he said.

  “You left a little somethin’ out, Sheriff,” Frank shot back.

  “What might that be?”

  “The bloodsuckin’ things livin’ in your town.”

  “Not sure what mean,” the sheriff said. He fixed Frank with a mock-curious look. “You sayin’ we got vampires in Sundown?”

  “I believe that’s what I’m sayin’,” Frank said.

  The sheriff grinned. “Place is crawlin’ with ’em.”

  “What about Elijah and his bunch? Why ain’t you done somethin’ about ’em? You just lettin’ those boys run rough shod over you?”

  “What is it you expect me to do?” the sheriff asked.

  “Your job,” Frank said. “You are the law.”

  “This badge don’t mean shit. Silus is law around here.”

  “You spineless . . .”

  Frank’s arm shot out across the desk. He got hold of the sheriff by the shirt and jerked him half out of his seat, jamming his Colt under his chin.

  “Works like this, feller,” Frank said through clenched teeth. “You’re gonna help me round up Elijah and his boys—kill ’em if we need to—then we’re gonna get your sorry ass, and anybody else who’s human, outta this godforsaken town before the bloodsuckers wake up for breakfast. Any questions?”

  The sheriff was sweating like a whore in church. He nodded his head real slow like, suddenly realizing Frank wasn’t someone to be toyed with.

  When Frank let him go, the sheriff dropped back in his chair with a sigh of relief. He smoothed his shirt and straightened his shoulders. “It ain’t gonna work, but I’ll be more than happy to give you a hand, seein’ as how you asked so nice.”

  “Real good decision,” Frank said. “And don’t think about turnin’ stupid on me, or it ain’t the bloodsuckers you’ll need to worry about.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” the sheriff said.

  He went to his gun cabinet, took out a Winchester, and stuffed his pockets with extra rounds, watching Frank the whole time.

  “You know where to find Elijah?” Frank asked.

  “Same place as always. Patrolling the outskirts. It’s what they do”

  “That’s good,” Frank said. “We’re about to put a stick up their asses.”

  * * *

  Three of Elijah’s men were sitting just outside the north end of town, drinking whiskey and playing cards. Frank and the sheriff got the drop on them. One of three made the mistake of reaching for his gun. Frank blew a hole in his head, convincing the other two they were better off with their hands in the air.

  “You with us or against us?” Frank asked conversationally.

  “We ain’t helpin’ ya,” responded the shorter of the two. “Even with that gun on us, you ain’t as dangerous as Silus, and when he gets hold of ya, I’m gonna laugh while he sucks the blood right ou—”

  Frank’s Colt belched and the fat man dropped.

  The last man was nervous now. “Look, I ain’t fixin’ to die here. You can walk right on by me. I ain’t gonna do nothin’.”

  “Where’s Elijah?” Frank asked.

  The sharp edge in his tone made it clear he meant to get an answer.

  “I don’t know,” the outlaw said.

  Frank pointed his gun at the man’s forehead. A bead of sweat formed on the side of the his head and began a slow trek down his weather-beaten cheek. “I swear I don’t know,” he said. “I’d tell ya if I did.”

  “Well, now, feller, I just don’t know that I believe that,” Frank replied, then he slammed the butt of his gun against the man’s head.

  “What now?” the sheriff asked.

  “Now we find Elijah,” Frank said.

  “You ain’t got far to go,” Elijah said.

  Frank and the sheriff turned around slow.

  “Damn,” Frank muttered. “This is a real pickle.”

  There were four men total. Frank picked Elijah out right away and fixed him with a hard look.

  “Drop your weapons real slow,” Elijah said. “You breathe heavy and my boys drop you where you stand.”

  Frank let his gun fall to the ground. The sheriff followed suit.

  “Looks like you hurt some of my boys. I don’t like that, but unfortunately for me, I gotta let ya be.” The last part he directed at Frank. “I brung a message from Silus. Tonight, downtown Sundown. Be there.”

  Elijah signaled his men to lower their rifles. “Don’t think about shootin’ us in the back,” he warned. “We got that little girlfriend of yours put away, and if the three of us don’t get back to town, can’t say what might happen to her, but you can bet it’ll be none too pretty.”

  Frank’s jaw twitched as the outlaws rode away, but other than that, he showed no sign of the anger seething just below his surface.

  “It’s over for you now,” the sheriff said. “Me too, I figger. Silus ain’t gonna like the fact I sided with you.”

  “It ain’t over yet,” Frank said, climbing onto his horse. “Not ’til the fat lady sings, and I ain’t seen a fat lady yet.”

  The sheriff looked at Frank like he was completely out of his mind, but he climbed on his horse anyway, and the two headed toward Sundown.

  * * *

  “You wait here,” Frank told the sheriff, who sti
ll seemed to think Frank was out of his mind for even getting involved.

  They were outside the Red Velvet Inn.

  “What the hell ya gonna do in there?” the sheriff asked.

  “Just keep a sharp eye. Any sign of trouble, fire a shot, I’ll come runnin’.”

  The sheriff looked uneasy but nodded in agreement. Frank went into the hotel, making a beeline for the stairs leading up to his room.

  The old woman behind the desk said, “You ain’t gonna find her. They done come and took her away.” This time she was awake. “Come here,” she said in such a way that Frank couldn’t very well refuse.

  The old woman leaned close to him¾closer than he would’ve liked under other circumstances. Her milky eyes seemed incapable of sight, but she fixed him with her intense gaze just the same. “You listen to me, boy,” she said. “You listen real good, pay close attention, maybe you’ll save a life or two. If you don’t heed my advice, Silus’ll kill you in less than thirty seconds. Unless, of course, he wants you to suffer, which is most likely what he aims to make happen.”

  “I’m listenin’,” Frank said.

  “You need holy silver. The church outside town, in the floor behind the pulpit. There’s a silver cross there. Fetch it. That’s the only way to kill Silus. If you kill Silus, the rest of them bloodsuckers die right along with him.”

  “A silver cross, floor behind the pulpit?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  He started to turn away. The old woman’s bony hand snapped out and her fingers clutched his wrist. Her grip was stronger than Frank would have imagined it to be.

  “Avenge me, boy,” she said.

  “Avenge you?”

  “He’s my fault. I brought ’im into this world. You help me see him out.”

  “You’re his momma?”

  She nodded. “Sorry as I am to say it.”

  “Well, I guess, ma’am, I’ll refrain from callin’ him a son of a bitch.”

  The old woman scoffed. “You call ’im anything ya want, just make sure ya call ’im dead before the night disappears.”

  She released her grip on him. He tipped his hat and left. The sheriff was still waiting, but he was pacing like a cougar and happy to see Frank.