HELL IS COMIN’ TO CALL
After a few moments, Leach expressed what they were all thinking. “Don’t look like there’s nobody home but the little lady and the young’un. We’d best wait a few minutes more to make sure her old man ain’t settin’ by the fire.”
“Maybe he’s off ridin’ with that posse, lookin’ for us,” Snake said, amused by the thought.
“Yeah,” Roach said, grinning, “that’d be somethin’, wouldn’t it?” Turning to Leach, he urged, “Ain’t nobody else around. Let’s go on down and pay our respects.”
“Now don’t go off half-cocked till we see for sure there ain’t no rifle pointed at us,” Leach said. “We’ll just ride up nice and neighborly till we see what’s what.”
Even as he spoke, he knew his warning was probably wasted. Roach went crazy anytime his nostrils caught the scent of a woman. He had even ravaged an old woman a couple of days before—with her husband and three young’uns lying dead beside her . . .
DEVIL’S
KIN
Charles G. West
SIGNET
Published by New American Library, a division of
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First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,
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First Printing, January 2005
Copyright © Charles G. West, 2005
All rights reserved
ISBN: 978-1-101-66283-0
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For Ronda
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 1
“Lookee yonder, Leach.” Ernest Roach waited for his two companions to catch up. When Leach and Snake pulled up on either side of him, Roach pointed, directing their gaze toward the modest cabin at the foot of the hill.
Leach didn’t say anything for a moment or two while he looked the tiny homestead over. The cabin looked to be two or three years old. There was a small barn built off to one side, open on both ends, with a corral attached. “One horse and one mule,” he commented to himself.
“Damn! Look at that!” Roach broke into his thoughts, and Leach turned to follow the direction of Roach’s gaze. He immediately saw the cause of his companion’s excitement. A young woman emerged from the barn, walking briskly toward the cabin. A toddler trailed along behind, holding onto his mother’s skirt as she stepped around the larger puddles, trying to hurry to get out of the rain.
“One horse and one mule,” Leach repeated, this time loud enough for the others to hear.
“And one cow,” Snake interjected dryly, having noticed the animal’s head appear at the barn entrance.
All three were silent then, waiting to see if the man of the house would then appear. After a few moments, Leach expressed what they were all thinking. “Don’t look like there’s nobody home but the little lady and the young’un.” He removed his wide-brim hat and flung some of the water from it before replacing it on his head. “We’d best watch for a few minutes more to make sure her old man ain’t settin’ by the fire.”
“Hellfire,” Roach replied, anxious to get a closer look at the woman. “What if he is? We can take care of him right quick.”
“Maybe he’s off ridin’ with that posse, lookin’ for us,” Snake said, amused by the thought.
“Yeah,” Roach said, grinning at the half-breed, “that’d be somethin’, wouldn’t it?” Turning to Leach, he urged, “Ain’t nobody else around. Let’s go on down and pay our respects.”
Leach didn’t reply, having come to the same conclusion. He gave his horse a kick and started off through the poplars toward the foot of the hill. He didn’t speak until halfway down, when he reined up momentarily to issue some words of restraint. “Now don’t go off half cocked till we see for sure there ain’t no rifle pointed at us,” he said. “We’ll just ride up nice and neighborly till we see what’s what.” Even as he spoke, he knew his warning was probably wasted. Roach went crazy anytime his nostrils caught the scent of a woman. He had even ravaged an old woman a couple of days before—with her husband and three young’uns lying dead beside her.
* * *
Inside the cabin, Sarah removed her woolen shawl, and shook some of the water from it before draping it across the back of a chair near the fireplace. Using her skirt for a towel, she dried her son’s hair and face. Holding the child at arm’s length, she smiled at him. “You’d just as soon stay out there in the rain and splash around in the mud, wouldn’t you?” The child giggled as she playfully ruffled his hair. “You’re just like your father.” The comment caused her to pause and think of her husband. Jordan had only been gone for two days, but it seemed like a week. She tried never to let him know how frightened she was when he was away from the cabin. When she was growing up on her father’s farm, there had always been a lot of people around: her family, the hired hands, her mother’s maid. Now there were only the three of them, and sometimes she would not see anyone else for weeks at a time. The isolation never seemed to bother her husband. In fact, he thrived on it.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the horse nicker. Thinking that maybe Jordan was returning, she went to the door and looked out. What she saw immediately troubled her. Three men were filing down the slope, their yellow slickers glistening in the rain. She didn’t re
cognize any of them, and alarming thoughts sprang to mind at once. Just two days before, the Thompson family had been massacred. Sheriff Winston Moffett had sent his young deputy to fetch Jordan to join a posse to search for the murderers. Jordan had been reluctant to leave Sarah and Jonah alone, but felt he had an obligation to the community.
She didn’t like it when Jordan was away, fearing the possibility of incidents like the one facing her now. Feeling her heart pounding in her chest, she went to the cupboard and took a single-action revolver from the top shelf. With the pistol in her skirt pocket, she returned to the door, little Jonah clinging to her leg.
* * *
“Mind your manners, boys,” Leach warned as the three men approached the house. Although the cabin door was opened only a crack, he could see the woman standing there watching them. With a gun in her hand if she’s got any sense, he thought. Slow walking their horses, the three rode up before the cabin, halting a few yards from the door. “Hello the cabin,” Leach called out. “Anybody home?” He glanced over at Roach and shot him a warning frown. Roach was fairly fidgeting with anticipation. “We’re ridin’ with the posse, lookin’ for them outlaws. We could sure use a cup of coffee if there’s any to spare.”
His words were far from reassuring to Sarah. She was tempted to simply make no reply, hoping they would then ride away. But she knew they had seen her peering out the crack of the door. Finally she responded, her voice trembling with fright, “I’m afraid we can’t ask you inside.” She hesitated, searching her mind for something that might persuade them to leave. “We’re sick. I think it may be the pox.”
Certain now that there was no one else inside but the woman and her child, Leach dismounted. Snake and Roach followed suit. “Ain’t no need for you to be concerned, ma’am. We’re just checkin’ on folks in this part of the valley, makin’ sure you’re all right.”
“We’re all right,” Sarah quickly replied. Then remembering what she had just said, she added, “We’re just sick is all. I’m sorry I can’t invite you in for coffee.”
“Is that a fact?” Leach responded. “Well, this looks like your lucky day. Roach here is a doctor. He’ll be glad to take a look atcha.” With a nod of his head, he motioned toward the cabin wall.
Roach understood. Grinning widely, he moved to a position to the right of the door and inched his way closer, while Leach continued to engage Sarah in conversation. With another silent motion, Leach directed Snake to move around to the back of the cabin. Then he took a couple of steps toward the door.
Certain now that the strangers meant to do her harm, Sarah took the pistol from her skirt pocket and cocked it. Her hand trembling, she held it before her. “I’m afraid I must ask you to leave,” she said as bravely as she could manage, but unable to keep her voice from quaking. “My husband should be here at any minute,” she added.
Seeing the barrel of the pistol now protruding a few inches through the partially opened door, Leach stopped. He gave Roach a nod. “Now look here, lady. There ain’t no call to point a gun at me. We just wanna get out of the rain for a while.”
“Please leave,” Sarah pleaded, her voice without all pretense of bravado, the hand holding the revolver trembling perceptively.
She had no sooner uttered the words than Roach suddenly grabbed the barrel of the weapon and wrenched it from her hand. Following Roach’s move, Leach quickly stepped forward and grabbed Sarah’s arm before she could slam the door. “Come on out here, missy, and let’s have a look atcha,” he crowed as he kicked the door open and hauled her violently out into the rain. With little Jonah clinging to her skirt and screaming with fright, she fell to her knees in the mud, reaching instinctively for her son. She drew the terrified child up close to her in a vain effort to protect him, knowing their fate was in the hands of God.
“Damn!” Roach exclaimed, fairly salivating in his anticipation and delighted with his prize. “She’s a real looker, ain’t she?” Without hesitating, he reached down and, grabbing her by the bodice of her dress, pulled the struggling woman to her feet. “I’m claiming the first ride on this little filly.” With a sharp rap across Jonah’s face to quiet the bawling youngster, he started to drag Sarah inside the cabin.
“The hell you say,” Leach said, catching him by the arm. After seeing Sarah up close, his desire was as fervent as that of the lustful Roach. “Who the hell said you had the right to have her first?”
Roach, his passion already overheating, tried to jerk his arm free of Leach’s grasp. But Leach held him firm. When Roach released his grip on Sarah’s bodice in an attempt to shove Leach away, Sarah saw her chance. She grabbed Jonah by the hand and ran for the corral. Locked in a shoving match, Leach and Roach didn’t realize she had taken flight before she had scrambled between the rails of the corral.
Having heard the commotion at the front door, Snake turned the corner of the cabin in time to see Sarah and the child running for the barn. Without hesitation, he raised his rifle and fired, putting two bullets in the fleeing woman’s back. Knocked down immediately, Sarah fell sprawling in the muddy slime of the soggy corral and lay still.
Roach was devastated. Arriving beside the body a moment or two behind the half-breed, he bemoaned the lost opportunity. “What the hell did you do that for?” Roach demanded.
Snake shrugged as he stared down at the woman’s body, her young son crying at her side as he vainly begged his mother to wake up. “She was trying to run” was Snake’s simple explanation.
The absolute senselessness of the killing infuriated Roach. “Why, you dumb son-of-a-bitchin’ half-breed, you ain’t got no more sense than that. . . .”
“Maybe I shoot you,” the stoic half-breed said in reply, gazing at his partner with steady lifeless eyes.
“Well, that would just about fix things up proper, wouldn’t it?” Leach stood gazing down at the dead woman, her son now wailing in terror. “Somebody shut that young’un up.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Snake swung his rifle, catching the unsuspecting child beside his temple with the barrel. The force of the blow knocked Jonah several feet away, where he then lay as still as his mother.
“Well, I reckon you shut him up all right,” Roach said sarcastically, still frustrated by the somber half-breed’s lack of constraint.
“What was you aimin’ to do?” Snake replied coldly. “Take him to raise?”
“It’s done now,” Leach said, stepping between the two. “Let’s see what we can find and get the hell outta here.”
Snake turned and went into the barn while Roach remained standing over the body. “That’s just a damn shame,” he complained. “That damn Injun just ruined all our fun.” He squatted on his heels and pulled Sarah’s skirt up.
“You aimin’ to jump on a dead woman?” Leach wanted to know.
“Hell no,” Roach at once retorted. “I’m just lookin’ at what I missed. Damn”—he sighed in frustration—“she was a pretty thing.”
Leach shrugged, figuring they had wasted enough time. “They all look pretty much alike with their clothes off. Let’s get going.”
Just then, Snake came out of the barn, carrying a shotgun. Holding it up, he said, “This is what she was runnin’ for—found it hid in the hay rack.” He walked over to the horse to get a closer look. “Pretty good horse,” he decided. “Wanna take it with us?”
Leach hesitated for a moment before answering, “Nah, I reckon not. If we happen to run into that posse, we don’t wanna be riding with this feller’s horse.” He turned and started for the cabin. Behind him, Snake removed a couple of rails from the fence and chased the livestock out. Leach didn’t bother to ask the half-breed why. Snake just did whimsical things.
They found little of real value in the tiny cabin. They took what food they could find, as well as Sarah’s pistol and a box of cartridges. Snake strapped the shotgun on his horse. “I reckon that’s about it,” Leach commented as he stepped up in the saddle. Snake took a piece of wood from the fireplace and, using it as a
torch, touched off a fire in the middle of the cabin, piling on curtains and furniture to give it fuel.
Already mounted, Roach shook his head. “Now what the hell is he doing that for?”
Leach shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s the Injun in him, I reckon.”
* * *
Jordan Gray stood transfixed, staring vacantly at the lifeless bodies of his wife and son. Oblivious to the cold, steady rain that beat down upon his face, he felt as helpless as he ever had in his entire life. Stunned, his brain refused to function for what seemed an eternity, until finally, drained of all energy, he dropped to his knees in the muddy corral. Tears streamed down his rough cheeks as he gently lifted his wife’s face from the wet mud and held her head with one hand while he struggled out of his coat. Laying her head carefully upon the coat, he paused a moment to wipe the filth away from her cheek before moving several yards away to gather up the body of his son.
Jordan had never been one to waste time wondering about the why of things. Unlike her husband, Sarah Gray had always held a certain fascination for why things happened the way they did. She had often sat out under the stars at night, trying to imagine what part she and her little family had to play in God’s great plan for all the creatures of his universe. In contrast, Jordan never gave things like that much thought. He seriously doubted that a grand plan even existed. All his life, since being orphaned at age ten, he had known only one religion that produced any definable results, and that was hard work. And to feed and clothe his family required practicing that religion from sunup to past dark in the fields he had cleared. He never let his mind dwell upon whether or not his lot in life was fair. It was all he had ever known, and if he thought about it at all, it was just to be grateful that he had a strong back to do the work.
For the past four years, he had had a reason to work even harder. The only miracle he had ever known in his life was when Sarah accepted his proposal of marriage, and never a day passed that he had not marveled at the wonder of it. One year to the day after they exchanged vows, Jonah was born. Sarah had wanted to name their son after her father in hopes of appeasing the old man somewhat for going against his wishes and marrying one of his hired hands. At least, that was what Jordan supposed. Jonah Wheeler had begrudgingly offered forty acres of his farm as a wedding present, but Jordan had politely refused, preferring to start a new life with indebtedness to no man. Sarah cheerfully supported her husband’s pride, and bade her mother and father goodbye as she and Jordan rode off to find land of their own. It had been a hard four years, but they had been the only happy years of Jordan Gray’s life. Hardly a day had passed during that time when he did not marvel at his good fortune. Sarah was his life.
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